Detachment Royal Engineers (British and Chinese sappers), under Lieutenant Rundle, R.E. Maxim Gun Detachment, 22nd Bombay Infantry, under Jemadar Lalla Rawat. Signallers, 3rd Madras Light Infantry, under Captain Sharpe. Section of Indian Field Hospital, under Captain Woolley, I.M.S. With the mobility of Indian troops the column embarked within a few hours after the receipt of orders on a flotilla of steam launches, which were to convey us along the coast to Deep Bay, and thence up the Samchun River to the threatened point on the frontier. Stores, tents, and a few mules to carry the Maxim and ammunition, as well as to supplement coolie transport, were towed in junks. Our tiny vessels loaded down with their living freight, the sepoys excited at the prospect of a fight, we steam away from Kowloon and out through the crowded harbour. We pass a number of torpedo‐boat destroyers and a small fleet of obsolete gunboats rusting in inglorious ease. To our right, with its huge cylindrical oil‐tanks standing up like giant drums and its docks containing an American man‐o’‐war, lies the crowded Chinese quarter of Yaumati. Above it towers the long chain of hills, their dark sides marked with the white streak of the new road that crosses their summit into the Hinterland. On the left is Hong Kong, the Peak with the windows of its houses flashing in the sun, the city at its feet in shadow. We pass the long, straggling Stonecutter’s Island, with the solid granite walls of its abandoned prison, the tree‐clad hills and the sharp outlines of forts. In among an archipelago of islands, large and small, we steam; and ahead of us lies the narrow channel of the Cap‐sui‐moon Pass between Lantau and the lesser islet of Mah Wan. On the latter are the buildings of the Customs station—the Imperial Maritime Customs of China. High hills on islands and mainland tower above us on every side. The lofty peak of Tai‐mo‐shan stands up in the brilliant sunlight. The coast is grim with rugged cliffs or gay with the grassy slopes of hills running down to the white fringe of beach. Bluff headlands, black, glistening rocks on which the foam‐flecked waves break incessantly, dark caverns, and tiny bays line the shore. A lumbering junk, with high, square stern and rounded bows—on which are painted large eyes, that the ship may see her way—bears down upon us with huge mat sails and its lolling crew gazing over the side in wonderment at the fierce, dark soldiers. A small sampan dances over the waves, two muscular women pushing at the long oars and the inevitable children seated on its narrow deck.