next.
Josiah
A t first Jack didn’t hear the distant cough and splutter of a rather old, badly made engine. His eyes were shut tight as he waited helplessly for the cold steel to slice through his neck. At least it would be quick, he thought. But nothing happened. In fact, the street was strangely silent after the onslaught of the Taiping attack – except for one thing. The noise of the engine was getting closer. Jack dared to open one eye and then look up. A strange-looking vehicle – like an open-topped vintage car – puttered to a halt just beyond the remains of the barricade. The throng of Taiping warriors stood to attention as a portly gentleman clambered down from the jalopy and bustled towards them. He had wisps of grey hair that covered a balding head and his fat, round face was very red. He looked completely out of place in the dusty Shanghai street where the Chinese Taiping cavalry had just fought a bloody engagement with the British King’s Royal Dragoons. He scurried through the large hole in the barricade to where Jack, Angus, Captain Fleming and the other captives were still lined up. The strange new arrival looked just like an English country vicar. He wore simple black robes and a white dog collar. As he bustled towards them, Jack felt the rough hands that held him slowly ease their grip.
The vicar went straight up to the Taiping officer and bellowed directly into his face. If Jack had not been so terrified, it wouldhave seemed funny: a portly English vicar, completely unarmed, dressing down a great Taiping warrior about twice his height, who wore great swathes of leather and chain armour and had a deadly sword in his belt and a rifle strapped to his back. The warrior bowed his head in shame and the other men looked at their feet nervously as the vicar railed at them. He stopped shouting and scurried over to Jack, Angus and Captain Fleming. Jack felt himself hauled to his feet and with the deft slice of a knife his hands were released from their bonds. The others were similarly released, and Jack risked a glance at Angus. His friend winked back, and Jack sighed inwardly with relief that, for the moment, they were both in one piece.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, I am so dreadfully sorry, a most terrible misunderstanding…” The vicar clicked his fingers and issued an order in Mandarin. Immediately bowls of water were proffered to the captives. Jack sucked his down gratefully. His heart was still racing, but the water tasted good and he sensed a dawning elation from his narrow escape.
“I’m afraid they do get carried away sometimes…” the vicar continued.
Fleming thrust out a hand. “Captain Fleming, Royal Dragoons… thank you for saving us, sir, and who might you be?”
“Delighted Captain,” the vicar twittered, “my name is Backhouse. Reverend Josiah Backhouse. I am, er, special advisor to General Li Xiucheng of the Taiping army… and,” Backhouse added apologetically, “I’m afraid, gentlemen, that you will have to come with us.”
The captain’s whiskers twitched. “Sir, may I remind you thatI am a captain in the Royal Dragoons. You shall release us now !”
The vicar looked embarrassed by Fleming’s brave outburst and he peered at his feet. “I’m sorry, Captain, but that will simply not be possible. I’m afraid you are now prisoners of war,” he turned to Jack and Angus, “all of you.”
“You are aware, sir,” Fleming continued, “that there is a major British force in Shanghai evacuating our civilians from the British Concession, and there are seventeen thousand British and French troops under James Hope Grant sailing north together to confront the Imperial emperor, as we speak? Once they have dealt with him, I have no doubt they can come and deal with you and your Taiping rebel friends. Her Majesty’s government does not take the kidnapping of its subjects lightly… whether by Chinese Taiping rebels or Chinese Imperialists.”
“Quite so, quite so, Captain,”
Josiah
A t first Jack didn’t hear the distant cough and splutter of a rather old, badly made engine. His eyes were shut tight as he waited helplessly for the cold steel to slice through his neck. At least it would be quick, he thought. But nothing happened. In fact, the street was strangely silent after the onslaught of the Taiping attack – except for one thing. The noise of the engine was getting closer. Jack dared to open one eye and then look up. A strange-looking vehicle – like an open-topped vintage car – puttered to a halt just beyond the remains of the barricade. The throng of Taiping warriors stood to attention as a portly gentleman clambered down from the jalopy and bustled towards them. He had wisps of grey hair that covered a balding head and his fat, round face was very red. He looked completely out of place in the dusty Shanghai street where the Chinese Taiping cavalry had just fought a bloody engagement with the British King’s Royal Dragoons. He scurried through the large hole in the barricade to where Jack, Angus, Captain Fleming and the other captives were still lined up. The strange new arrival looked just like an English country vicar. He wore simple black robes and a white dog collar. As he bustled towards them, Jack felt the rough hands that held him slowly ease their grip.
The vicar went straight up to the Taiping officer and bellowed directly into his face. If Jack had not been so terrified, it wouldhave seemed funny: a portly English vicar, completely unarmed, dressing down a great Taiping warrior about twice his height, who wore great swathes of leather and chain armour and had a deadly sword in his belt and a rifle strapped to his back. The warrior bowed his head in shame and the other men looked at their feet nervously as the vicar railed at them. He stopped shouting and scurried over to Jack, Angus and Captain Fleming. Jack felt himself hauled to his feet and with the deft slice of a knife his hands were released from their bonds. The others were similarly released, and Jack risked a glance at Angus. His friend winked back, and Jack sighed inwardly with relief that, for the moment, they were both in one piece.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, I am so dreadfully sorry, a most terrible misunderstanding…” The vicar clicked his fingers and issued an order in Mandarin. Immediately bowls of water were proffered to the captives. Jack sucked his down gratefully. His heart was still racing, but the water tasted good and he sensed a dawning elation from his narrow escape.
“I’m afraid they do get carried away sometimes…” the vicar continued.
Fleming thrust out a hand. “Captain Fleming, Royal Dragoons… thank you for saving us, sir, and who might you be?”
“Delighted Captain,” the vicar twittered, “my name is Backhouse. Reverend Josiah Backhouse. I am, er, special advisor to General Li Xiucheng of the Taiping army… and,” Backhouse added apologetically, “I’m afraid, gentlemen, that you will have to come with us.”
The captain’s whiskers twitched. “Sir, may I remind you thatI am a captain in the Royal Dragoons. You shall release us now !”
The vicar looked embarrassed by Fleming’s brave outburst and he peered at his feet. “I’m sorry, Captain, but that will simply not be possible. I’m afraid you are now prisoners of war,” he turned to Jack and Angus, “all of you.”
“You are aware, sir,” Fleming continued, “that there is a major British force in Shanghai evacuating our civilians from the British Concession, and there are seventeen thousand British and French troops under James Hope Grant sailing north together to confront the Imperial emperor, as we speak? Once they have dealt with him, I have no doubt they can come and deal with you and your Taiping rebel friends. Her Majesty’s government does not take the kidnapping of its subjects lightly… whether by Chinese Taiping rebels or Chinese Imperialists.”
“Quite so, quite so, Captain,”
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