Day of Rebellion (6 page)

J
ack swung round. As if from nowhere a horseman was careering headlong down the street. He was heading straight for Jack, with a lance in his right hand. Jack could see he was about to be skewered, but he was frozen to the spot. Again he heard Angus scream out his name… but it sounded oddly distant, as if he was underwater. Jack saw the horse’s mouth foaming and the contorted face of the lancer as he let out a hideous battle cry, but he still couldn’t move. Then, quite suddenly, the horseman lurched sideways and thrown from his saddle, landed awkwardly on the dusty road. The horse reared up, its forelegs kicking out centimetres from Jack’s head, then it turned and cantered back up the street. Jack was still too stunned to move.

“Get back down here, if you want to live!” A voice shouted.

Then Angus was beside him bundling him forward and he finally snapped out of his trance. A man dressed in a cavalry uniform with a red jacket and dark trousers was running towards them from the makeshift barricade further down the street. He had a huge handlebar moustache and wore a large white pith helmet. Both the hat and uniform had seen better days.

“Hurry!” he shouted.

As they ran for the barricade, Jack noticed the man’s rifle.

“Captain James Fleming. Dragoon Guards,” the soldier thrust
out a grubby hand. “Pleased to meet you, but how on earth do you come to be here? Haven’t you heard? The whole Taiping rebel army is marching on Shanghai and the city is evacuating…”

The boys didn’t have the breath to respond.

“Climb over that section there and get yourselves undercover, we’re expecting the rest of this horde any minute… and I warn you – they’re a hideous lot.”

As they clambered over the barricade they discovered that a number of troops had taken up position behind and actually
inside
it. Most wore uniforms similar to Captain Fleming’s. There were British but also some Sikh soldiers from India, as well as one or two Chinese. Jack noticed two machine-gun posts built into the barricade. It was odd but, just like some of the things they had seen in the shop, the guns looked quite modern.

Captain Fleming was standing high up on the barricade.

“Here they come!” he bellowed.

Looking through a gap in the barricade Jack could see that the Taiping cavalry charge had started. In seconds, the Taiping were racing straight at them in a maelstrom of thundering hooves, dust and metal.

“Hold your fire…” Fleming shouted, his voice steady, but a single shot rang out from a panicked soldier behind the barricade.

“Hold your damned fire!” Fleming raged.

Jack could see the eyes of the horsemen and feel the vibration of hooves through the ground. They were only a few metres away now. He closed his eyes and tried to dig himself deeper into the barricade.

“Fire!” Fleming boomed.

The whole place erupted. There was a cacophony of rifle and machine-gun fire; Jack thought his eardrums might burst.

“Cease fire!” Fleming bellowed.

The gunfire stopped and Jack looked out onto the street. The Taiping cavalry charge had been halted in its tracks and all that was left was a mass of dead and dying men and horses lying in the dust.

“Jones, Sutcliffe – get out there and finish ’em off. Rest of you – reload – there’re more… don’t you worry about that. These Taiping – there’s no end to the blighters.”

Fleming jumped down from his position on top of the barricade.

“Sorry about that gentlemen… looks like you’ve got yourself caught up in the middle of a pitched battle. ’Fraid we’re not going to be able to hold out here much longer. We’ll have to retreat back to the main defence line.” Fleming looked at them with a beady eye as he reloaded his pistol. “Anyway, what’s your story?”

“We got separated from our family, er, our father is a… trader… er… we’re heading to the waterfront.” Jack tried to sound convincing.

“You’re from the British concession? Well, you’re in the wrong part of town. It’s lucky you bumped into us. We’ve got ammunition to fight off one more attack and then we need to regroup. I’ll give it two or three more days before Shanghai is completely overrun. The Taiping rebels have got limitless men, it seems…. and they’re well armed… got some modern weapons too… though sometimes they like to do things the
old-fashioned
way,” he cast his eye out on to the street at the heaped corpses of men and horses. “Such a waste, but I’m not complaining – it’s us or them.”

The captain was interrupted by one of his men, yelling down from the top of the barricade. “Cap’n – they’re coming again – even more!”

“Gawd. Already?” Captain Fleming’s face was set in grim determination. “They’re gluttons for punishment, this lot. Fanatics. You gents keep down here. We’ll fight then off and then we’ll be retreating… we’ll get you to safety, don’t worry about that.”

But as Fleming stepped back to the barricade, a violent explosion came from behind them, and a powerful shockwave hit them like an express train. Jack was propelled backwards and landed awkwardly amid a cloud of dust. He spluttered and raised his head, peering through the swirling dust. The line of shops on the opposite side of the street had completely collapsed. They were now just a smoking heap of bricks and masonry. Jack pulled himself to his feet, dazed and shaken, but OK. Then he spotted Angus lying on the road next to him. He had caught the full force of the blast and his face was white with dust and plaster. Blood was oozing from a wound on his forehead, but he looked like he was still breathing – just. There were people rushing around, shouting and pointing, but all Jack could hear was the deafening ringing in his ears. He bent down to help Angus, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a huge dark shape lurching towards them, over the rubble created by the collapsed shops. It crawled forward and then stopped.
Jack couldn’t believe what he was seeing; it was an absolute monster. A battle tank, the usual caterpillar tracks, turret and main gun – yet unlike any tank Jack had ever seen. It was painted with an extraordinary black and red livery and had Chinese writing scrawled all over its sides. Two enormous flags billowed from the turret. Suddenly, a forward machine gun on the tank opened up and bullets ripped into the rear of the barricade. Then the muzzle of the tank’s massive main gun flashed and a shell buried itself in the barricade, which erupted in a storm of flying splinters and shards. At the same time the Taiping tank had attacked through the rear of the barricade, a second
head-on
cavalry charge was co-ordinated to the front. It took Fleming and his men completely by surprise. Jack watched in horror as the Taiping warriors began clambering over the barricade. The defenders were powerless to stop them, and Fleming’s attempt at an orderly retreat quickly turned into a rout. The soldiers were fleeing down the street away from the wrecked barricade. Jack grabbed Angus’s arm and urged him to his feet. Angus groaned.

“My head…”

“It’s just a scratch, come on, we need to get out of here…”

But Jack was too late. A swarthy arm encircled his midriff and he felt himself lifted from the ground. He was then plonked a few metres away and forced onto his knees. Jack looked up at his assailant – a huge Chinese Taiping warrior. The warrior nodded over at Captain Fleming and several of the soldiers who had also been captured by the marauders. Like Jack, they were kneeling, and they were banging their heads on the ground – kowtowing. Jack looked back up at the warrior, not quite
understanding what they were doing and why. The warrior jammed the butt of his sword into Jack’s ribcage. It was excruciatingly painful. The warrior grasped Jack’s hair and banged his head into the ground repeatedly. Just like the action of Fleming and the other soldiers, it seemed Jack was to keep banging his head into the ground until someone told him to stop. The warrior moved to do the same to Angus, who was still a little dazed and confused from the explosion.

The Taiping rebels now had full control of the barricade and the tank was starting to rip it apart to open up the street. Soon there was a pathway through for the horses and a posse set off in pursuit of the fleeing defenders. Jack, Angus, Fleming and the other captives were hauled up from the ground and pushed roughly into a line across the street. They were surrounded by Taiping warriors, but there was one who was clearly in charge. He was shouting something in Mandarin. Jack suddenly felt his hands wrenched behind his back and tied by a cord. Ahead, a Taiping cavalryman dismounted and approached – he was even larger than Jack’s assailant. He held an enormous broad-bladed cleaver loosely in one hand. He walked round the back of the soldier next to Jack as the officer issued another command. From the corner of his eye, Jack saw the cavalryman grasp his neighbour by the hair and push him forward. The cleaver glinted momentarily in the sunlight and then wheeled downwards onto the man’s exposed neck. The head rolled away from the body. Jack retched with horror at the sight, but then he felt a hand grasp his own hair.

He was next.

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 would
have 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 that
I 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,” the vicar waved his hand dismissively. “I am aware of the diplomatic situation, but I am afraid that you are now in my care…” He gestured at the Taiping cavalry around them. “I certainly don’t want to hand you over to our friends here… they can be a little
unpredictable
…” He looked over at the detached head that rested in the street – some distance from its body. “As you have already witnessed.”

Jack, Angus and the captain were marched to the vicar’s strange vintage car and they clambered into some cramped seats in the back as their fellow captives stared after them bemused.

“Don’t worry,” Backhouse assured them. “Your companions will not be harmed.”

He poked the driver, and the car’s rough engine burst into life.

“We’re still perfecting the design, but I hope you find it
comfortable, gentlemen.” They rumbled their way back down the street, escorted by a contingent of the Taiping horsemen. As the car trundled on, all Jack could think about was what chance they would have of intercepting his father when he arrived in three days time. It wasn’t looking good.

“Where are you taking us?” the captain pressed.

“Please, Captain Fleming, we will be there soon enough.” Josiah turned back to them from the front passenger seat, dabbing the sweat on his podgy face with a handkerchief, “First you must introduce me to your young friends.” He looked at Jack and then at Angus, his eyes lingering on Jack who returned the stare uneasily.

“I say young man, don’t I recognise you from somewhere?”

“I don’t think so – I’ve never seen you before.” Jack thought fast. “Er, we have spent most of our lives outside England.”

This seemed to satisfy Backhouse who turned away with a shrug. Jack, however, thought it really odd that this
strange-looking
country vicar, completely out of place in the dust and heat of a Shanghai street in late summer, might somehow think they had met before.

“How did you two come to find yourselves manning a barricade in a city under siege?” Josiah asked.

“Our father… he’s a trader,” Jack lied. “We got lost in the confusion… the captain here saved our lives… we got split up during your attack. My father is expecting to meet us at the waterfront… we need to go back. You need to let us go.”

“I am very sorry to hear about that. But there is no chance I can release you.”

“These young men must be reunited with their family, Backhouse…” the captain began.

“Now Captain, please. I am afraid there is no question of reuniting anyone for the moment. The city will still be very dangerous but I promise that all of you will be returned in due course.” Backhouse said brightly. Then his tone changed and he muttered under his breath, “Assuming we get co-operation from the British government.”

This was too much for the captain. “You call yourself a man of God, Backhouse, yet here you are in league with these Taiping barbarians,” he burst out.

Josiah’s red face turned a little redder. “Captain, your comments are uninformed – like those of so many of our English countrymen. The Taiping are hardly barbarians. They are our Christian brothers, fighting a holy and just civil war against the corrupt and decadent Imperialist Qing dynasty.”

But as Jack peered from the back of the strange car which lumbered its way through the outskirts of Shanghai, he did not see much that could be described as holy or just. Everywhere he looked there was devastation from the Taiping assault on the city. Smoke plumes rose from burned-out huts and houses, and at points along the road bodies were piled up high. Taiping were everywhere – squads of infantry marching at the double into Shanghai, cavalry patrolling the streets, and, occasionally, armed wagons.

“Look at all this,” Fleming said, “the misery of war… and all aided by you Backhouse – a supposed
Christian
. At home in London, they say you are a traitor.”

“Thank you for your opinions,” Backhouse said, his voice sounding strained, for the first time. “I would ask, simply, that you to keep them to yourself if you want to retain my
co-operation
; but just so you know, the hypocrisy of my English brethren never fails to astonish me…”

The captain fell silent.

After an hour or so, they crested a low rise in the road. Jack’s head had nodded onto Angus’s shoulder, but now Angus nudged him. The site before them made Jack’s jaw drop. Stretching for miles into the hazy distance were tents and bivouacs, set out in orderly rows, swarming with Taiping troops in red coats and conical white straw hats. They had reached the Taiping army encampment outside Shanghai. As they drew close, Jack started to distinguish between different parts of the camp. Alongside the cavalry and infantry was an enclosure of parked up tanks – each one just like the monster that had surprised them back at the barricade. Next to this, there was an encampment of artillery – though the guns were unlike any Jack had seen before. They were painted with slogans and emblazoned with all manner of extravagant decorations and motifs. Along the central axis of the camp, was the most extraordinary sight of all. A series of monster steam engines parked up one next to the other. Jack had seen pictures of old-fashioned steam engines once used for road works and on farms – and these machines were similar. They were great iron and bronze contraptions which belched black smoke and steam. Some had massive bulldozer attachments on the front and others had fortified turrets, with evil-looking
guns sticking out of them. Jack remembered the little Shanghai hardware shop where he and Angus had seen different technologies somehow co-existing – it was the same here, in the Taiping army camp. The uniforms, flags and regalia could have been medieval, as were the lances and great cleavers that the infantry and cavalry carried. But other used technologies much more modern – steam-powered engines and crude petrol-driven machines, artillery and firearms that looked as if they belonged in a more modern age. Everything was mixed up.

Angus was mesmerised by the range of weaponry, but Jack caught Backhouse’s eye as he surveyed the scene. He had a look of pride on his face.

“I will admit my Taiping friends have got some strange ideas, on both Christian doctrine and on government,” he said. “But you can’t fault their energy and organisation. And this army…” He turned to the captain and said, “The British government would be quaking in its boots if they could see it.”

Fleming grunted.

“We are nearly there.” Backhouse said something to the driver and pointed. “You will be taken to a holding tent – normal procedure – there will be refreshments, so please try and make yourselves comfortable. I will come back for you shortly.”

With this, Backhouse stepped down from the jalopy and scurried off. Jack, Angus and Fleming were escorted to a nearby marquee which was enclosed in a wooden stockade.

“Prison,” the captain said matter-of-factly.

But once inside the tent, they were offered tea and food; there was even water to wash themselves.

“You have heard of him, captain?” asked Jack. “I mean Backhouse – you seemed to know of him. You said he was known in England as a traitor?”

“You haven’t heard of Josiah Backhouse? Where have you been my lad? Yes, he’s famous; infamous more like. And he’s a traitor indeed. I couldn’t believe it was him.”

“We are away most of the time… with our father,” Angus chipped in, pleased with himself for having picked up on Jack’s story.

“Well, Backhouse is a British missionary… but he’s more than that, much more,” the captain sipped his tea from a bowl. “Not quite how my mother makes it… but I have to say that tastes good.” He looked around at the inside of the tent and groaned with frustration, “Can’t believe I’ve got myself captured…”

“What do you mean, he’s a traitor?” Jack tried to bring Fleming back to Backhouse.

“Aye, well… Backhouse was high up in the CPS… you know with all the Science Lords.”

“CPS?”

The Captain looked at Jack oddly. “You really have missed out on your education, haven’t you, my lad? CPS stands for ‘Cambridge Philosophical Society’ – they are a very powerful group of men. They advise the British government.” He put a hand up to his mouth and whispered conspiratorially, “Some say they pretty much
are
the British government…”

“Oh?”

“Charles Babbage is the President of the CPS – has been for
thirty years.” The captain saw the confused look on Jack’s face, “Now don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Babbage? Inventor of the Difference Engine, the internal combustion engine, harnessing electrical energy, new weapons for the army and navy and of course, manned flight…”

“What? You’ve got planes as well?” Angus blurted out, then held a guilty hand to his mouth, which failed to disguise his astonishment.

The captain frowned, “You two… I mean, have you never been in the real world?”

“It’s complicated…” Angus said.

Jack frowned and tried to move the captain on, “The CPS – are they the source of all these inventions – the weapons, steam engines, cars, electricity…? When, er, when did it start, I mean, when did they start inventing all these things?”

The captain’s brow furrowed. “It started when I was a nipper. Now my father always used to say that in the old days Babbage was considered a bit of a joke – an eccentric. Ordinary folk didn’t like him much, but then, in the 1830s all that changed. He, and his fellow scientists in the CPS, started to produce inventions, designs, machines… the most incredible scientific advances… they changed the world. It all started at the Trinity Conference…”

“What was that?” blurted Angus.

“Oh, it was a very significant event. March 31st 1836, in the Wren Library at Trinity College in Cambridge. It was the first CPS conference, when Babbage first announced some of the most amazing inventions that the CPS had created. All the top brass were there – it took the world by storm.”

“Do you remember it?” said Jack.

“Yes – well I’m too young to
remember
it – but my father talks about it to this day and about the rumours that started circulating soon after. Some people thought the inventions were magic… or witchcraft even. All I can say is had Babbage and the other members of the CPS been anything other than British – it would have been the end of the British Empire and probably the end of us, because the scientific and military advances were profound.”