THE GOLDEN VASES
“So it’s Chinaside, eh, Peter?” exclaimed Major Annesley, tossing aside
the evening paper with latest Naval Appointments. “A rather good
station, I believe, though I haven’t been to the Far East myself.
‘Fraid you won’t be here for your twenty-first birthday.”
“‘Fraid not, pater,” agreed his son, although he hadn’t the faintest
notion why such a stress should be laid upon his absence from home.
Nearly five years had passed since Peter Annesley’s one-sided interview
with Li Fan. In point of fact, the circumstances had almost faded from
his mind. They had been five strenuous and adventurous years. It had
been Peter’s ambition to enter the Royal Navy through the recognised
channel–Dartmouth College. He had failed in the entrance examination.
That was a bitter pill. As an alternative, he was sent on board a
training-ship for the Mercantile Marine.
Here another chance to attain his ambition presented itself. The
Admiralty offer two direct appointments per annum to be competed for
amongst the Mercantile cadets. Peter, improved vastly both physically
and educationally during his period of training, was one of the
successful candidates, and at the age of twenty, having served the
customary time as midshipman, he found that he had been promoted to
sub-lieutenant and appointed to H.M.S. _Hermione_, protected light
cruiser of 9700 tons, which had lately relieved the _Proberis_ on the
China Station.
“In that case,” resumed Major Annesley, “I’ll take the opportunity of
anticipating the day upon which you legally come of age, by letting you
into a family secret. You’ve heard me mention my grandfather, Colonel
Richard Annesley, late of the 49th Regiment?”
“I have,” replied the Sub, his interest aroused. “Bit of a tough nut
in his way, wasn’t he?”
“We Annesleys all are inclined that way,” rejoined his father, with a
grim smile. “But to proceed. The event to which I am about to refer
took place in 1841. In that year we had a little war with China. To
be brief–I’ll let you read the lengthy dispatch at your leisure–Dick
Annesley, then a lieutenant, took part in the landing at Tao-Lung,
after the _Nemesis_ and other British warships had smashed up a
numerically superior Chinese fleet. Apparently the naval scrap was an
easy business, in spite of the fact that the Chinese employed
fire-ships; but the land operations were not altogether a joy-ride.
“However, during the advance–it was over open ground composed of
paddy-fields–the 49th were strongly opposed, but before the day they
had captured a strongly-fortified village after a hand-to-hand fight.
It was here that your great-grandfather and another officer named
Purvis saved the life of a mandarin, for the 49th, owing to having
discovered the mutilated body of one of their comrades, were giving no
quarter.
“The mandarin was, I take it, grateful. At any rate, he presented
Annesley and Purvis each with a gold vase, which he had succeeded in
concealing when the village was looted. Apart from the intrinsic value
of these vases they were of great antiquity, and even in those days
were estimated to be worth £8000 apiece.
“Then arose a difficulty. There had been issued a short order against
individual looting, although the authorities did not draw the line at
wholesale looting, provided the spoils were placed at the disposal of
the British Government. That meant that if a Tommy annexed even a roll
of silk from a captured building he was guilty of looting; but if
thousands of yards of the same material were taken and placed on board
one of Her Majesty’s ships, then that was a perfectly legitimate act
from an official point of view.
“In this case the two lieutenants had been given these valuable vases.
Naturally they wanted to get them safely home. But the question arose:
How were they to convince their Commanding Officer of the genuineness
of the gift? The mandarin had been sent to the base. They didn’t even
know his name. They couldn’t continue the advance with their company
and lug the vases about with them; if they sent their prizes back to
the ship, even if men could be spared for that task, there was a
considerable risk that the precious objects would be ‘mislaid.’
“Finally they decided to bury the vases. This they did secretly in the
midst of a paddy-field. First they took bearings with a compass. Your
great-grandfather lays particular stress upon the fact that while so
doing they laid aside their swords and pistols lest the metal should
affect the sensitive magnetic needle. Speaking from memory, although I
feel fairly confident on the matter, they found that a turret on the
extreme eastern part of the wall of Tao-Lung bore N. 10° E. distant
about two miles, and an isolated pagoda to the west of the fort bore N.
0° W.; but you’ll find it set down in black and white, Peter, in Dick
Annesley’s own hand-writing, although the black has by this time turned
to a rusty brown.
“At this spot they dug a deep hole and buried the two vases, after
protecting them in wrappings cut from a tent. Next morning at
_réveillé_ the advance was resumed; but as has frequently happened in
our little wars, the strength of the enemy was greatly underrated.
“A sudden storm swept down upon the troops. Their flint-locks–this
was about the time when the flint-lock musket was being superseded by
the percussion rifle–were rendered useless by the wet. Two companies
of the 49th were cut off. All they could do was to form square and use
their bayonets, which were at a disadvantage against the long spears of
the Chinese. In addition, the latter were armed with weapons
resembling shepherds’ crooks attached to long bamboos. With these,
several unfortunate men of the 49th were pulled over and immediately
dispatched with swords. During this affray, Lieutenant Purvis was
killed, and Dick Annesley received a spear-thrust that nearly cost him
his life.
“At this critical juncture relief came in the shape of two companies of
Royal Marines, whose percussion muskets were practically unaffected by
the terrific downpour. Your great-grandfather was carried back to the
base in an insensible condition. When he recovered consciousness he
found himself on board H.M.S. _Wellesley_ on passage to Hong-Kong.
During the rest of his military career he was never nearer China than
Bengal. Consequently he had no opportunity of retrieving his buried
treasure. Neither did your grandfather, who, although with close on
forty years’ sea-service, never saw the Pacific. I hadn’t any luck in
that direction. Now is your opportunity. Presuming the treasure is
still where Dick Annesley hid it, it’s up to you, Peter, to try and
recover it as a family heirloom.”
“I’ll have a thundering good shot at it,” declared Peter.
A week later he left Tilbury in the P. & O. s.s. _Naldera_ for
Singapore.
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