had been suddenly abandoned by our men.  We had surrendered, without striking a blow, a quarter of our ground!  I remember that I was only mildly interested at this; everything was so bouleverse and curious that a little more could not matter.  It was like in a dream.  Tramping back, the Austrian sailors crowded into the French Legation and all round their lines and threw themselves down.  One man was so drunk from lack of sleep that he tumbled on the ground and could not be made to move again.  Everybody kicked him, but he was dead-finished and could be counted out.  This was beginning our warfare cheerfully.

On top of the Austrians a lot of volunteers came in at a double, very angry, and cursing the Austrians for a retreat which was only discovered by them by chance.  Like so many units in war-time, these volunteers had been forgotten along a line of positions which could have been held for days.  Nobody could give any explanation excepting that Captain T——­, the Austrian commander, said that he was not going to sacrifice his men and risk being cut off, when there was nobody in command over the whole area.  T——­ was very excited, and did not seem to realise one thing of immense importance—­that half our northeastern defences have been surrendered without a shot being fired.

At the big French barricades facing north an angry altercation soon began between the French and Austrian commanders.  The French line of barricades was but the third line of defence here, and only the streets had been fortified, not the houses; but by the Austrian retreat it had become the first, and the worn-out French sailors would have hastily to do more weary fatigue-work carting more materials to strengthen this contact point.  I remember I began to get interested in the discussion, when I found that there was an unfortified alley leading right into the rear of this.  It would be easy at night-time to rush the whole line.

Meanwhile nobody knew what was going to happen.  All the Ministers, their wives and belongings, and the secretaries and nondescripts had disappeared into the British Legation, and the sailors and the volunteers became more and more bitter with rage.  A number of young Englishmen belonging to the Customs volunteers began telling the French and Austrian sailors that we had been trahis, in order to make them swear louder.  I know that it was becoming funny, because it was so absurd when ... bang-ping, bang-ping, came three or four scattered shots from far down the street beyond the Austrian Legation.  It was just where Tung Fu-hsiang’s men had passed.  That stopped us talking, and as I took a wad of waste out of the end of my rifle I looked at my watch—­3.49 exactly, or eleven minutes too soon.  I ran forward, pushing home the top cartridge on my clip, but I was too late. “A quatre-cents metres,” L——­, the French commander, called, and then a volley was loosed off down that long dusty street—­our first volley of the siege.