La S?ur Agnes—Exeat—Nha-Nam again—Picking up the threads—Bo-ha—Preparations for the campaign—With General Voyron's column—An error in the art of war—A big butcher's bill—Collapse of the rebellion—Stamping out the embers.
The town of Quang-Yen, capital of the province of the same name, is situated about 10 miles to the south-east of Ha?phong, and close to the sea. Thanks to its position on a series of small hills, it is swept by the sea-breeze, and enjoys a well-merited reputation for its healthy climate.
A fine hospital was erected here by the French in 1888; this has since been enlarged, and now affords accommodation for three hundred patients.
On my arrival I was placed in one of the big fever wards, each of which contained twenty-four beds, and the comfort and quiet of my new quarters, the skill and care of the doctors and[Pg 249] Sisters, and the pure air of the region, soon produced most beneficial results.
The attacks of malaria decreased in frequency and intensity, and my strength augmented each day.
There was something delightfully fresh and reposeful in the sensation of finding oneself again in a comfortable bed, between spotless sheets; and the vista of the long room, with its polished wood floor, the neat cots of black-enamelled iron and shining brass, the white mosquito-curtains and the sound of the crackling log-fire, which burned in the open hearth during the early cool of the November mornings, reminded one of the cleanliness and ease of Europe—of home. It was pleasant, too, to watch the Sisters as they glided from bed to bed, attending with untiring patience and gentleness to the wants of the sufferers. It was both pathetic and droll to see one of these good women as, with the tender care of a mother, she washed the face and hands of some big and bearded Legionary who was too debilitated to do anything for himself, but who kept his eyes open, notwithstanding their smarting, so as not to lose a single movement of[Pg 250] his ministering angel; continually expressing his thanks the while, at the risk of receiving a mouthful of soap and water. Neither could one watch without emotion a Sister who had to deal with a patient who had lost all desire for food, as was often the case with victims to persistent fever. Insisting on the sufferer partaking of a cup of beef-tea, she would administer it spoonful by spoonful, accompanying each of these with gentle words of encouragement, so that the rough mercenary could not do otherwise than gulp down the helpings—trying, meanwhile, to look pleasant and grateful. There was a little chapel attached to the hospital, wherein a Spanish missionary from a neighbouring village of Roman Catholic converts officiated; and when the men were convalescent and able to get about, they would manifest their gratitude to, and respect for, their nurses by attending mass on Sundays, notwithstanding the fact that many of them were Protestants, and that most of them possessed little or no religion at all under ordinary circumstances. The Sister who attended to me was a small and cheerful little person, who seemed to be about at all hours of the[Pg 251] day and night, and her activity and ceaseless surveillance were the terror of the native servants who worked in the ward. She was a merry soul, who never missed an occasion for drawing a laugh from her patients. Should I hesitate and grimace before swallowing my dose of quinine—it was administered in solution in those days—she would assure me that to connaisseurs its taste was as agreeable as that of fin champagne, and declare that it was only a question of time and habit for me to be able to appreciate its delicate flavour.
I owe much to this Sister for the care and attention she gave me during my stay in Quang-Yen hospital—these were, of course, equally bestowed on all the sufferers under her charge—and it was my good fortune, five years later, to meet her under entirely different circumstances, when I recalled myself to her memory and expressed my gratitude. To-day, as I write, there comes back to me a vision of the ward at night, when, having fallen asleep after blinking at the reflection of the firelight on the polished parquet and brass knobs on the bedposts of the neighbouring cots, a gentle[Pg 252] touch would awaken me from my first slumber, and I could see, under the white cornette, the smiling face of my nurse—en religion, S?ur Agnes—as, after lifting the mosquito-curtain, she presented to my lips a small glass containing the nightly dose of the bitter drug, while she whispered: "Tenez, mon petit St Jean—Voici votre grog."
After attending to the wants of each, and seeing that all are comfortable, S?ur Agnes would kneel down in the ward, and, with bent head and clasped hands, repeat in a soft but distinct voice the prayers for the night. Every soldier who was able to sit up in bed would do so, and nearly all those who could, murmured with her the Lord's Prayer, each in his own language. Probably most of them did so simply to please the patient religieuse, who soothed their sufferings and attended to their needs; but, be that as it may, there existed no regulation which obliged them so to do, therefore their action was spontaneous and impressive.
When the Sister had left the room, after bidding a general "good-night" to its occupants, it was very seldom that any conversation would[Pg 253] take place. It seemed as if the majority of the men were anxious to court sleep while still under the impression left them by the saintly, self-sacrificing woman to whom they had just listened, desiring, perhaps, that it should bring to them dreams of those they loved, but of whom they never spoke. Now and again a new patient, proud of his cynicism, would scoff at his comrades, curse them for knock-kneed calotins, or go so far as to laugh aloud, or even whistle a ribald regimental ditty, during the evening prayer. They never did this twice, however, for a straight-spoken, though perhaps somewhat lurid, warning from their room-mates always sufficed to quell any desire for persistence in this breach of the etiquette of the ward. Had it been otherwise, it is certain that their suppression would have been both rapid and awesome.
On the 12th December I was called before the Repatriation Committee (Conseil de Rapatriement), the members of which—three doctors—seeing the progress I had made, decided to keep me in the hospital for another fortnight, at the end of which period, if no relapse had occurred, I could return to my corps. It is hardly[Pg 254] necessary to state that this decision was very agreeable to me, for I had feared that these officers would order my return to Algeria; and once assured of the realisation of my desires, I improved rapidly in health and strength. Sometimes, when I suspected a slight attack of fever, I "faked" my temperature, lest the doctor who examined my "chart" each day should take another view of my case, and send me up again before the Committee. I trust, however, that this confession of my fault will bring with it forgiveness for the trick played upon my kind and trusting nurse.
During my stay at Quang-Yen I saw that the majority of the patients were men from the Infanterie de Marine. These regiments passed into the domain of the Minister of War in 1901, and are now known as L'Infanterie Coloniale. I was very surprised at their youthfulness and evident want of stamina. This corps was originally formed, like our Royal Marines, for service afloat. Since 1860 their place on board the men-of-war has been taken by sailors (fusiliers marins) who undergo a special course of training in musketry and infantry drill; and the[Pg 255] Infanterie de Marine was formed into twelve regiments, which now garrison the naval ports on the French coast, the principal towns in the Colonies, and take part in all expeditions overseas. Before the reorganisation of the army, carried out after the Franco-German War, the men of this fine corps had won a grand reputation for courage and endurance, and the defence of the village of Bazeilles by a brigade of French marines against a division of Bavarian troops, in 1870, will ever remain one of the finest pages in the history of the struggle. General conscription and the short service system have done much to reduce the fighting value of these regiments, which were formerly composed of men who had been submitted to a most searching medical examination, and consequently stood a good chance of resisting the insalubrious climate of the Colonies, and who volunteered for a long period with the flag. To-day, the majority of these troops are town-bred, beardless boys, of from eighteen to twenty years of age, who are in these regiments because they have been unfortunate enough to draw a low number from the conscription-urn. Like all France's sons, they are brave and enthusiastic,[Pg 256] but owing to their youth, inexperience and hurried and incomplete military training they have sometimes proved victims to sudden panic, and their but half-formed constitutions and still growing physique make them prompt sufferers to malady, fatigue and discouragement during the hardships of a tropical campaign. Several French authorities on military matters have expressed the opinion that the Government would do well to employ more seasoned material for their colonial garrisons and expeditions, and reserve these brave youths for the future battlefields of Europe, whereon may be decided the destiny of their fatherland.
Those of us who were able to get about attended the midnight mass on Christmas Eve, and the little chapel, with its interior prettily decorated by the willing efforts of the convalescent soldiers, was full to overflowing; and, though probably the thoughts of the majority present wandered away to the homeland, we joined vigorously in the joyful anthem, "Noel! Noel! Voici le Redempteur!" to the visible satisfaction of the beaming, buxom s?ur supérieure and the smiling Sisters. On the[Pg 257] 30th I found myself "Exeat"—i.e., discharged from the hospital as cured—on the deck of a little river steamer which was churning her way through the red, muddy waters of the Cua-Cam, past miles of mangrove swamp, towards Ha?phong.
The weather was bright, dry and cold—a typical winter's day of this part of the world—and the pure, crisp air, reminding me of home, seemed delightfully invigorating after the stifling, damp heat of the past summer months. At Ha?phong I boarded another boat, which landed me in Phulang-Thuong the next morning.
Here I found signs of the coming campaign, for several little river-steamers were discharging their cargoes of stores, ammunition and material, and hundreds of coolies were employed in transporting the goods to the big Government go-downs in the little town, where they were stored for the time being. From here large quantities of flour, tinned beef and other stores were forwarded to Nha-Nam and Bo-Ha, these forts in turn serving as bases, from which the different columns were revictualed. On my arrival, I reported at the office of the garrison major, expecting to receive orders to leave by the first opportunity[Pg 258] for Nha-Nam, via Cao-Thuong—that is, by the same route which our detachment, just landed from the Bien-Hoa, had taken eight months previously—but information was given me by one of the military secretaries to the effect that I would have to wait a few days, pending the formation of a convoy which was to proceed in sampans, up the Song-Thuong river, to Bo-Ha, and that I would form one of the escort, to be composed of several Legionaries and a few tirailleurs.
As Bo-Ha is only about 7 miles from Nha-Nam, entailing a march of hardly two hours, and a journey in a native boat would be a new and desirable experience to me, I did not regret the delay this unexpected development was likely to create. I had not long to wait, however, for three days later our little fleet of twenty-five sampans, four of them occupied by the escort, glided away at three in the afternoon on its voyage up the river.
sampan
A SAMPAN ON THE RIVER NEAR PHULANG-THUONG.
These sampans are about 20 feet long, and in form somewhat resemble a house-boat, though they are smaller and possess finer lines than the floating villas one meets with on the reaches of[Pg 259] our English rivers during the summer months. The little house, or cabin, which is placed amidships in each of these boats, is usually about 6 feet by 5, and is so low that one can only sit or lie down inside it. Forward of this cabin is a deck from which two natives work the long sweeps of hardwood. These boatmen row in a standing position, with their faces towards the bow of the boat. Aft of the cabin is a strip of deck about 3 feet long, and from that the stern rises up in much the same way as one sees them pictured in the old prints of ships in the time of the Armada. Upon this deck stands another boatman, who handles a long oar which trails behind, and with this he both rows and steers. These boats draw very little water—2 feet at the utmost, and that only when they are fully laden.
The evening was a beautiful one, so that I made the most of the journey, and lay for several hours, my loaded rifle beside me, enjoying the varied spectacle which was quite new to me. In the boat, besides myself and the three boatmen, were three tirailleurs, but these gave me no trouble, for, having consumed a big saucepanful[Pg 260] of rice, they fell asleep on the deck, the cabin being nearly filled with tin cases, each containing thirty kilos of flour. The sleepers lay close together to obtain more warmth, for the nights were chilly at this season.
The river at this part was from 80 to a 100 yards wide; its water was very clear, and ran over a sandy bottom, studded here and there with large rocks, and between steep banks, from 20 to 25 feet high.
Along either side ran groves of tall bamboos, which seemed to salute us with a graceful nod as we glided by. Sometimes there was a break, and an old pagoda, with a quaintly-curved roof of red-brown tiles, came into view. Now the river would run through a few miles of forest and jungle, offering no sign of occupation by man. Enormous trees rose superbly from the banks of the stream, and their massive branches extended for many feet over its waters, on which their foliage threw a pleasant and picturesque shadow. From these great limbs hung numerous flexible creepers, some of them starred with orchid-like blooms of white and yellow hue. Many of these streamers swayed gently to and[Pg 261] fro before the light breeze, while others, having grown down into the glassy waters, were held still in their cool embrace.
Our journey between these walls of verdure, the forms and tints of which were ever changing, was one of the most delightful of experiences, the charm whereof is still fresh in my memory. When night came down and blotted out all colour and outline, I turned on to my back and watched the stars as they came out one by one. For an hour or so I lay open-eyed, yet dreaming, till the monotonous chant of our boatman, with its ever-recurring chorus of "Oh! Yah! Mōt-Ha?-Ba!" finally lulled me into a profound slumber. Our convoy reached Bo-Ha in safety the following morning at nine.
This fort was constructed and garrisoned in 1889, at the request of a rich and influential native chief, lord of an important village, called Dao-Quan. This native was formerly a leader of a group of bandits, and, before the invasion of the country by the French, had ravaged the Yen-Thé and defied the mandarins in Bac-Ninh. After the capture of that citadel by the troops under General de Négrier, he was wise enough[Pg 262] to throw in his lot with the invaders, and with his irregulars he fought side by side with his new allies against the old régime. In recognition of his services to the French cause, the Government confirmed his right to administer the district he had settled in, and made him a knight of the Legion of Honour. During the years that followed the occupation of the country by the French, he remained faithful to the cause he had adopted, and refused to have anything to do with the mandarins at the court at Hué, who were, in secret, partisans of the exiled Ham-Nghi, notwithstanding many overtures and rich promises made to him. During the operations in the Yen-Thé he rendered valuable service to the military authorities by supplying coolies to the different columns, and by making use of the armed irregulars, whom he maintained at his own expense, to guard the lines of communication. After the campaign was terminated he successfully negotiated the surrender of several influential minor chieftains, who, thanks to his efforts, came in and delivered up their arms.
We left Bo-Ha at two in the afternoon, our[Pg 263] little troop consisting of a sergeant, three Legionaries, who were bound for Nha-Nam, with ten tirailleurs and a native corporal from the garrison we had left, the latter having been lent to strengthen our effective.
When we had marched for about half an hour and had crossed the Song-So?, a little stream which runs into the Song-Thuong a few miles below Bo-Ha, we perceived, a hundred yards ahead of us, a small detachment, consisting of six tirailleurs, led by a European mounted on a native pony. I was one of the first to catch sight of them, for at the time I was in charge of the vanguard, which was composed of two natives. When we were close enough to get a good look at them, my surprise was great on recognising in the cavalier my friend Lipthay. When our mutual greetings and congratulations were over, he told me that he was out surveying the route with a view to determining the best positions for the poles of a telegraph line about to be established between Nha-Nam and the fort we had just left.
"I have done enough for to-day," said my chum, "and can easily finish the job in a couple[Pg 264] of hours to-morrow morning. I will go and report to the sergeant, and come back to Nha-Nam with you."
A few minutes later he was riding beside me as I walked, and I was asking him many questions concerning all that had happened since I left, and as to when the operations were likely to begin; for now that he was on the District staff I knew he was likely to be well informed on these subjects.
"Well, things have been pretty lively during the last two months," he answered. "Captain Plessier has been keeping the company at Nha-Nam busy with reconnaissances and ambuscades, but there has been no serious engagement since the little affair at Long-Thuong, at which you were present. We made a grand coup at the beginning of last month, though, for we succeeded in finding a position rendering the enemy's big fort visible; a position on which it will not be difficult to place a battery of fieldguns, able to wish a better 'bonjour' to our rebel friends than those little toy pop-guns of the mountain artillery. What a pity old De-Nam is dead! He would have been so surprised[Pg 265] when the first 90-millimètre shells came with a flop and a bang right into his secret lair; and from quite an unexpected quarter, too. Why——"
"Bon Dieu! mon ami," I interrupted, "have pity on me and go slow. Do you mean to say the old chief is dead?"
"Dead as C?sar," answered my friend. "He was poisoned in October by some Chinese who came down from the north to sell arms and ammunition. They were his guests, and killed him because he won back all the money he had paid them at bacquang (a native game called fan-tan in Chinese). So the spies who came to Tha?-Nguyen told us. Dans tous les cas, he is dead, and was buried inside the big fort with great state; and De-Tam, his former lieutenant, is now commander-in-chief."
"But do you really mean to say that there is such a position as you have described?" I asked, for from my experience of the manner in which the rebels concealed their forts, such a thing seemed quite impossible.
"Most certainly," replied Lipthay. "I was on it, cher ami. But I had better tell you the tale from the beginning, for you matter-of-fact[Pg 266] Englishmen are like St Thomas, and require palpable facts." He slipped his feet out of the stirrups, so that his long legs dangled comfortably, and, after shifting the carbine slung across his back into an easy position, began his tale.
"Towards the end of November, Linh-Nghi, the informer, was sent on to us at Tha?-Nguyen. You know the man, probably?" I nodded an affirmative, and he continued: "Et bien, Lieutenant Deleuze, chief of our Intelligence Department, used to pass hours at a time with him; took him to his house, and never lost sight of the fellow for a week. Deleuze speaks the vernacular like a native—pity there are so few like him—and the pair were soon like corps et chemise. I knew there was something brewing, and was not surprised when, on the 2nd December, orders were issued for a reconnaissance en force to proceed to Nha-Nam the following day. One company of the Legion and one of tirailleurs—a column 350 strong—and, of course, Deleuze and Linh-Nghi, were with them; so was I. Major Berard himself was in command. We slept a night at Nha-Nam, and went on to Bo-Ha the next day, after taking[Pg 267] with us the mountain-gun from the former fort. At Bo-Ha we rested, and the following morning left by a path which runs to the north-west and passes through two ruined villages, Cho-Kai and Long-Ngo, which were burnt by Colonel Frey's column in January last."
"Why, you must have been due north of where the enemy's new positions are supposed to be!" I exclaimed.
"So you would think," said my friend; "but in reality we were due west. When we had got to a point about a kilomètre beyond where Cho-Kai used to be, the enemy's scouts, stationed on the hills to our left, signalled our advance by firing their rifles. Upon this the column left the path and made a general demonstration to the south-east. Our men got in touch with the enemy, and kept them occupied for a couple of hours by feinting an attack en règle. Lieutenant Deleuze and I took Linh-Nghi with us, and slipped quietly away to the west of the path. For an hour we scrambled along through the long grass, Nghi acting as guide. Then we went off to the north, walking all the time in the valleys, and keeping[Pg 268] to the jungle so as to escape all chance of observation. At last we reached the foot of a hill somewhat taller than the surrounding ones—it was about 800 feet high—which had neither a bush nor a tree on its steep sides, but was covered all over with high, yellow grass. Nghi whispered that we must go cautiously to the top, so up we crawled on our hands and knees and lay flat on our stomachs when we reached the summit. Then we crept along until the opposite crest was gained. We had all brought big native hats with us, which we were careful to wear. When I looked down I was surprised to see that the path to Bo-Ha ran round the foot of this hill, and our column might have come here with ease, had it not been that this would have given the enemy some idea of what we were looking for. The view was a splendid one. First about 500 mètres of tall grass and jungle, then a kilomètre of forest which ran down to the Song-So?, for we could catch here and there the gleam of its waters; beyond this a mass of hills thickly wooded, then more hills covered with grass, and beyond, bright green blotches of cultivated land.
[Pg 269]
"The weather was so clear that I caught sight of the flag at Nha-Nam, though it was quite 12 kilomètres away, and I pointed it out to Deleuze. Linh-Nghi stretched out his hand towards the forest, and, indicating a spot close to a bend in the little river, exclaimed excitedly: 'Look! look!' As I turned to him it seemed to me that his face was drawn and yellow, and his eyes were much brighter than usual. I could see nothing in the direction he pointed to but trees; but the lieutenant, after looking through his field-glasses for more than a minute, suddenly exclaimed: 'Sapristi! oui—I see roofs!' I turned to ask Nghi a question, but refrained from speaking, for he lay with his head on his arms, his face to the earth. He was sobbing like a child, and his heaving shoulders betokened the depth of his emotion."
"Poor devil!" I interrupted.
"Yes—poor devil," repeated Lipthay; then he continued: "Deleuze passed me his glasses, and after careful searching I caught glimpses of brown thatched roofs between the trees. These belonged to the houses within the big fortified village which has been in existence for three[Pg 270] years at least. It is situated in the dense forest at a point where the Song-So? forms a loop. So well is it concealed that had not Linh-Nghi been with us, I am convinced we should have failed to make it out. After a few minutes our native friend got the better of his emotion, and he started giving more explanations to the lieutenant concerning the position. While he was doing so I got out my peigne (a military surveying compass), sighted the flag at Nha-Nam, and got a bearing; then I obtained an angle on the Nu?-Dot—you know, the hill to the south-west of Nha-Nam, where they have fixed up a heliographic station. Time was getting on, and there was a danger of being sighted at any moment, so we crawled down the way we had come, hurried back to the column and reported. I fancy the Major was very glad to see us again, and I am sure he must have been pleased with the information Deleuze gave him.
"The troops were called in, and the column formed up on the path and marched back to Bo-Ha. I don't think the enemy had an inkling of what we were after, and they were probably disappointed at not having succeeded in drawing[Pg 271] our troops on into the forest, where they could have adopted their favourite tactics.
"Comments were rife among our men, for they had counted on an engagement, and, as they expressed it: 'On a arrêté la danse au moment où les violons étaient accordés.' As we were marching away I heard one fellow say: 'Bon Dieu! bon Dieu! I don't believe the old fossil knows himself what we did go out for. They might just as well have sent a few recruits from the biff (the line regiments). Why, for three long hours we did nothing but waste our ammunition on half a dozen skinny natives who were dodging about among the trees.' Quel malheur! If they had known the result obtained, they would have sung another song; but it must be kept secret, of course, until the campaign is opened, and that will not be before the beginning of March."
"Rather late, isn't it?" I asked.
"Well, you see, it will be fine and cold then," answered my friend; "and with the information we now possess I don't think the expedition ought to last more than a fortnight." He now gave me more details concerning the defensive organisation of the rebels.
[Pg 272]
Besides the big fortified village already mentioned, about 4 miles to the north of Hou-Thué (demolished by Colonel Frey's column a year before), there were numerous positions, forts and entrenchments built to defend the paths leading to it. All these obstacles were accumulated to the south and east of the main position, from which it was evident that the rebels were confident that all future attacks would come from the same direction as the preceding ones.
De-Tam possessed a force of about two thousand men, twelve hundred of whom were armed with breech loading rifles of various patterns.
It was also probable that this chief was aware that the French would commence operations against him, as soon as the weather was cool enough to allow of large bodies of European troops being moved about the country, and that in consequence he had come to some understanding with the powerful leaders of the Chinese bands in North and West Tonquin, so as to secure their assistance in case of need. Of these, the two most important were Ba-Ky and[Pg 273] Luong-Tam-Ky, who occupied vast tracts of mountainous country to the north of the Yen-Thé, into which the French had, as yet, made no serious effort to penetrate. Both of these brigand chieftains had established their domination in these districts some time before the arrival of the Western foreigners in Tonquin.
Colonel—now General—Frey in his admirable work on the subject, compares them to the feudal lords of the Middle Ages, since they administered the territory occupied as a fief, all the inhabitants being subjected to regular taxation, wisely calculated so as not to excite discontent, and their authority was undisputed. These two leaders could dispose of from two to three thousand Chinese, armed with rifles, part of which force they would certainly be willing to place at the service of De-Tam on the payment of a stipulated sum of money. In fact, this is what actually did happen. Ba-Ky and Luong-Tam-Ky submitted to French rule in 1895, but their territory has not been occupied by the troops, for two very good reasons: first, because the district is so poor that the expense entailed would hardly be justifiable, and also owing to[Pg 274] the fact that the region is so unhealthy that Europeans cannot remain there any length of time without falling victims to fever and dysentery.
When we reached Nha-Nam, I received a hearty greeting from my comrades, some of whom, owing to my prolonged absence, were under the impression that I had also fallen a victim to the Cho-Trang fever, as they called it. It was comforting to find myself back in my former quarters, to fall once more into the jargon of the corps and take part in the daily routine of the garrison.
Two days later Lipthay left for Tha?-Nguyen with Lieutenant Deleuze. I saw this smart intelligence officer. He was a small, brown-faced, wiry man, whose most remarkable trait was the quiet, low toned voice in which he spoke to those under him. The men told wild tales concerning his wonderful knowledge of the language and customs of the ............