We could hear that he was having trouble—he was firing very heavily—and directly the Skipper and his little lot had got across safely, we saw his people begin leaving the house and falling back down the slope. We saw them turning and firing back, and retiring by alternate companies, and natives were swarming round the house and among the trees at the top of the ridge. We knew that they must be having a pretty warm time of it.
Those fellows who had crept round their rear began firing at them too; but one of their companies simply charged down at them, broke right through, and, opening out to left and right, swept them on one side. They were the _Omaha’s_ men. We could tell that by the peculiar noise they made and by their uniform. Langham was able to let rip into the Chinese as they sprinted out of reach of the Yankee bayonets, and hurried them along "pretty considerable", as Parkinson told me afterwards, we were also able to stop the people swarming down that ridge after him, and gave him time to bring along his Maxim and Colt guns, and to extricate himself from rather an awkward position. He made a wide sweep, so as not to mask our fire, and came across; but I saw that he had to carry four or five men, who had been knocked over in the open, and they delayed him much.
That is always the rotten part of a retreat, especially when fighting semi-barbarous natives. One dare not leave the wounded behind, and each one who cannot walk requires two able-bodied men to carry him.
From where "B.-T." and I were standing, I should think that we could see at least seven hundred Chinamen, and away on the left, we could see any number more hurrying: from the town.
"Buck up, old chap! Don’t look so blooming bored!" and I slapped him on the back. "We’ll have our work cut out in the next half-hour, when we are doing rearguard."
"Keep your beastly fists to yourself," he growled.
Old "Blucher" had bounded back to the Captain directly our Maxim had begun firing.
"Old Lest" and his little lot were in the rear of our hill—at the bottom of it—waiting for Parkinson to go on past them, farther back. We saw Parkinson drop his wounded people and sweep past and away towards two small rising bits of ground, about four hundred yards in the rear, and the Skipper, picking up his wounded, followed slowly.