The tug ran alongside the “Algerine,” and the work of trans-shipment was quickly over. Ammunition boxes were opened up, bandoliers and pouches filled, food was served out, and then men were billeted to sleep in different parts of the upper deck. By the time this work had been finished, the night had fallen, and half an hour afterwards the pipe went “Hands up anchor.” The “Algerine” weighed, and moved a few hundred yards up the river to take her preconcerted position. This simple move no doubt had a great effect on the issue of the engagement, as far as the “Algerine” was concerned, for the Chinese had doubtless trained their guns on her when she was in her former position, and they must have known her range to a few yards. She was the van ship in the line, with the “Iltis,” “Gilyak,” “Koreetz,” “Bobre,” and “Lion” astern of her, in the order named. At this time, however, the “Iltis” and “Lion” had not taken up their positions; and as there was some chance of them being torpedoed by the four Chinese destroyers as they moved down the river, the captain of the “Algerine” directed the captains of our two destroyers to move up the river and seize them at 1.30 a.m. As the pre-arranged hour for starting the bombardment was 2 a.m., and as there were few who felt sleepily inclined, the spare hours were given up to discussing whether the Chinese would accept the ultimatum and run, or whether the allies would find themselves engaged in a few hours’ time. This was decided in a most abrupt manner, for at 12.50, or one hour and ten minutes before the allies were going to start, a shell shrieked over the “Algerine” in unpleasant proximity to her topmasts. This was followed by an almost simultaneous fire from every gun that would bear on the little squadron. In the midst of this storm the most perfect discipline prevailed on board the British ship. Quickly and quietly the storming party were got down into the boats ready alongside, the guns’ crews closed up to their guns, and the “Algerine” fired the first shot of retaliation in an incredibly short space of time. An incident worthy of mention occurred during the first hail of shell. A man on the “Algerine’s” poop saw a figure climbing leisurely aloft; he hailed it with “Where are yer goin’? are yer goin’ to do a bloomin’ sleep in the cross-trees?” “No, I ain’t exac’ly tired just now; I’m doin’ the correc’ thing, though; I’m just goin’ to nail the bloomin’ colours where they can see ’em!” This very naturally created a laugh. Other jokes were cracked, and half deaf, men worked their guns for six hours with a fixed grin on their countenances, born half of amusement, half of the indefinable something which steals over men on coming face to face with death for the first time. For the first hour of the bombardment the storming party were lying alongside the “Algerine” in boats, and immediately before landing, which took place without mishap at 2.30 a.m., a ration of hot cocoa was served out to each man.