The slaughter that ensued was largely obscured by dust and smoke but Neel and Jodu still had a vivid sense of what was unfolding, because of the increasing number of bodies in the water. Yet the full horror of it only became clear when shoals of charred and blackened bodies began to drift into the channel.
Not one of the British ships, so far as they could see, had suffered the slightest damage.
The speed with which it happened was as astounding as the one-sidedness of the destruction. The assault started at 9 a.m. by Neel’s watch; by 11 a.m. British flags were flying on both sides of the channel, atop Chuenpee as well as Tytock. The only remaining threat to the British was a squadron of war-junks commanded by Admiral Guan Tiaifei.
The junks had come under withering fire early in the operation. Outmatched, the squadron had retreated to a defensive position, at the edge of the bay that separated Chuenpee from Humen. Between them and the channel lay a sandbar — an impassable obstacle for the larger British vessels but not for those with a shallower draught.
The British fleet ignored the junks while they were occupied in the twin assault on Chuenpee and Tytock. Only when the forts had been stormed did the warships turn their attention to Admiral Guan’s squadron: a number of armed cutters went swarming in for the kill.
But before the cutters could close in they were nosed aside by the gleaming iron hull of the Nemesis. Speeding past the boats the steamer went straight into the shallows until finally her cutwater bit into the sandbar. Then, with a fearsome shrieking sound a volley of projectiles took flight from her foredeck — these, Neel realized, were the weapons that Zhong Lou-si had asked about: Congreve rockets, the prototypes of which had been invented in Bangalore. Arcing through the air, the rockets arrowed into the junks, with devastating effect. One of them hit a gunpowder magazine and a junk exploded with a deafening roar. Then it was as if a tide of fire had engulfed the creek: the entire Chinese squadron seemed to be ablaze.
Now gongs began to ring on the Cambridge, summoning the crew to their battle-stations. The entire outer tier of the Tiger’s Mouth defences was now in British hands so it seemed inevitable that the victorious warships would proceed to attack the next set of fortifications — the batteries of Humen and North Wantung Island, where the Cambridge was stationed.
But then came a surprise. Instead of advancing, the British warships pulled back to Chuenpee, to evacuate the men who had gone ashore a few hours earlier.
Evidently the attack had been postponed till the next day.
*
In the evening, after making sure that the sepoys and their followers were properly settled below deck, Kesri met with Captain Mee, to review the day’s action. The captain had suffered a slight wound: his upper arm had been grazed by a musket-ball and he was wearing a poultice, with his elbow in a sling and his raggy jacket hanging off his shoulder.
‘Sorry about your wound, sir,’ said Kesri.
‘Are you?’ The captain grinned. ‘I’m not. It’ll earn me a few weeks’ leave in Macau.’
The tally of casualties on the British side, said the captain, was thirty-eight wounded, with no fatalities. On the Chinese side the toll was estimated to be about six hundred killed and many more wounded. Thirty-eight heavy guns had been seized and spiked in Chuenpee; twenty-five on Tytock. Along with the guns found on the junks and elsewhere, the total number of cannon destroyed amounted to one hundred and seventy-three.
‘Our men did well today, havildar — Major Pratt was full of praise for them.’
‘Really, sir?’
Kesri knew that Captain Mee had long been hoping to have his name included in dispatches. ‘Any mention of you, sir, by the commander-sah’b?’
The captain shook his head. ‘No, havildar — not a word.’
‘Maybe tomorrow, sir?’ said Kesri. ‘There will be another action, no?’
‘I wouldn’t count on it, havildar,’ said Captain Mee. ‘I’m told the Plenipot is under pressure to call off the offensive. I believe a letter has been dispatched to the Chinese commanders explaining the procedures for surrender. I wouldn’t be surprised if we were sent back to our camps so that the higher-ups can go on with their endless buck-bucking.’
This sent a chilly pang of disappointment through Kesri. Now that a full-scale attack had been launched he had hoped that the campaign would at last be brought to a speedy conclusion.
But sure enough, the next morning, a boat with a white flag was seen heading over from Humen to the Plenipotentiary’s flagship.
Shortly afterwards Kesri learnt that the offensive had been called off and the Bengal Volunteers were to return to Saw Chow.
*
Through the night the Cambridge was swept by news and rumours. As the magnitude of the disaster sank in, emotions rose to an extreme pitch, with the Chinese officers and crewmen alternating between rage and numb despair.
When word spread of the role that ‘black aliens’ had played in the carnage at Chuenpee the attitude of the Chinese sailors began to change: the camaraderie that had developed between them and the lascars abruptly evaporated and a new coldness took its place. It was as if Neel, Jodu and the others were somehow responsible for the actions of the sepoys.
The fact that nothing was said openly only made matters worse. Neel was relieved when Compton lapsed into an accusatory outburst: Why, Neel, why? Why are your countrymen killing our people when there is no enmity between us?
But Compton, said Neel, why do you associate us with the sepoys? We are not all the same. Jodu and I could not be sepoys even if we wanted. And why would we want to be sepoys? The truth is that they have killed more people in Yindu than anywhere else.
The one piece of good news that night was that Admiral Guan was still alive — he was feared to have died when the war-junks were attacked. But it turned out that he had managed to escape to Humen.
In the small hours an order was received from the admiral’s command post instructing the Cambridge to move to a new position as soon as possible. Accordingly, when the sky began to lighten, the Cambridge moved away from the island of North Wantung, to the far bank of the channel, where there was another gun-emplacement. There they began to prepare for the impending attack.
At dawn, when three British frigates were seen to be moving up the channel the crew of the Cambridge were sent to their posts. But then, inexplicably, the frigates turned back.
It was not till later in the day that they learnt that negotiations had been re-opened; a team of mandarins was again parleying with the British Plenipotentiary.
Soon it became evident that the British had an additional reason for calling off their attack: no sooner had the talks begun than the ship that was carrying Lancelot Dent’s cargo began to move. Crossing the Tiger’s Mouth, the vessel sailed off in the direction of Hong Kong.
Everyone understood then that the merchant Dent was behind the stoppage in the fighting: he was the mohk hau haak sau — the ‘black hand behind the scene’. He had clearly paid huge cumshaws to the British commanders in order to ensure the safety of his cargo.
You see, said Compton bitterly. This is what happens when merchants and traders begin to run wars — hundreds of lives depend on bribes.
That evening Compton made a trip across the channel, to visit Humen. He came back with momentous news: Governor-General Qishan had capitulated; he had consented to many of the invaders’ demands, including the handing over of a sum of six million silver dollars, as compensation for confiscated opium. He had also agreed to give the British the base they had long been clamouring for: the island of Hong Kong — known as ‘Red Incense Burner Hill’ in Chinese official documents.