Next morning we awoke to find the ship at anchor. “Taku at last,” was the cry; and, pyjama clad, we rushed on deck. To see what? Where _was_ Taku? All around a heaving, troubled waste of muddy sea, bearing on its bosom the ponderous shapes of warships—British, French, Russian, German, Austrian, Italian, Japanese. Close by, a fleet of merchantmen flying the red ensign, the horizontal stripes of the “Vaterland,” or the red ball on white ground of the marvellous little islands that claim to be the England of the Far East. Tugs and lighters were making for a German transport, the decks of which were crowded with soldiers. But of land not a sign. For the roadstead of Taku is so shallow that no ship of any considerable draught can approach the shore, and we were then ten miles out from the coast. Passengers and cargo must be taken ashore in tugs and lighters. Only those who have seen the place can appreciate the difficulties under which the transport officers of the various armies laboured in landing men, horses, guns, and the necessary vast stores of every description. And Captain Elderton, Royal Indian Marine, well deserved the D.S.O. which rewarded him for the excellent work he performed at the beginning of the campaign; when, having successfully conveyed our expedition ashore, he was able to lend invaluable assistance to the troops of many of the Allies. The bar at the mouth of the Peiho River, which flows into the sea at Taku, can only be crossed at high tide; so we were forced to remain on board until the afternoon. Then, embarking on a launch that had come out to meet us, we steamed in to the land through a rough and tumbling sea. As we drew near, the low‐lying shore rose into view. On each side of the entrance to the Peiho ran long lines of solid earthworks—the famous Taku Forts. Taken in reverse and bombarded by the gunboats lying in the river, gallantly assaulted by landing parties from the Allied Fleets, which, owing to the shallowness of the water, could lend no other assistance, they fell after a desperate struggle, and now from their ramparts flew the flags of the conquering nations. Here paced an Italian sentry, there a Russian soldier leaned on a quick‐firing Krupp gun; for the forts were armed with the most modern ordnance. The red coat of a British marine or the white clothing of a group of Japanese artillerymen lent a few specks of bright colour to the dingy earthworks.