Chasing The Dragon's Tail

By Brock Clayards

Chasing The Dragon’s Tail, set in the days preceding the First World War, takes readers on an adventure from the gritty brick enclaves of Chinatown in Victoria, British Columbia, to the remote Mexican Coast and back. Redvers Duncan, a former Royal Marine leatherneck, now a Victoria City Police constable, rescues a young woman from the clutches of a vicious opium Tong. Along the way, he is confronted by a spectre of his past, thrusting him into a struggle to prevent agents of the Imperial German navy from sinking the only British capitol ship in the north Pacific, HMCS Rainbow.
The plot, based loosely upon historical events, incorporates lusty rogues, spies, and military action. Ordinary characters become heroes while struggling with the whirlwind events bursting around them. The story features a peek at the brothels of 1914 sub-culture society in Victoria B.C. and opium trade to the United States. Tainted money reached the highest levels of the provincial government.
The reader will find romance, espionage, blackmail, and fast paced naval action, during a period of history which shaped the future of generations to come.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brock Clayards
• Release date: Nov 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9780993912207

Brock Clayards

Brock Clayards is a retired Royal Canadian Mounted Police (R.C.M.P.) officer. He is experienced in general policing, but also spent time in Ottawa specialising in counter terrorism.He is now a writer – his first novel, Pacific Flyways, is a mystery – and his current historical adventure, Chasing the Dragon’s Tail, is inspired by Brock’s great-grandfather, whose exploits in the Boxer Rebellion in China, with early policing in Victoria and in the defense of Victoria before the First World War, stimulated Brock’s creative imagination.Brock and his wife live on Vancouver Island in British Columbia.

Book preview

Chasing the Dragon’s Tail

by

Brock Clayards

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Brock Clayards

ISBN: 978-0-9939122-0-7

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

Cover design by Tania Craan.

The photographic image of HMCS Rainbow is provided with permission of the CFB Esquimalt Naval &Military Museum.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the following individuals for their assistance in producing this E Book. First of all, editor Chris Banner without whom the quality of this manuscript would not have been possible. Ric Hedman and his marvelous website Pigboats.com provided invaluable insights into the world of ‘H’ class submarines and the daily operation of these early craft. Ric patiently answered my questions about how a torpedo launch would occur and his photographs of the interior of the boats brought me to a greater understanding of the craft and those who manned them. The Naval Museum at Canadian Forces Base, Esquimalt besides providing the cover photo of HMCS Rainbow, was a source of information about the events of August 1914 in and around the HMC naval dockyard and Fort Rodd Hill across the harbour. John Adams, local historian in Victoria BC, took me on a walking tour of Victoria’s China Town. His tidbits of historical trivia helped create the atmosphere outlined in my book.

I have taken writers license with some of the historical facts and figures in Chasing the Dragon’s Tail. The story is fictional but placed in a time and context which might have occurred. All errors are mine.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the memory of William Henry Clayards, Royal Marine Artillery, and Sergeant, Victoria City Police circa 1912.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter 1 – The foreign quarter in Beijing

Chapter 2 – Victoria, British Columbia.

Chapter 3 – Seattle Shipyards

Chapter 4 – Chinese Christian School, Victoria. BC

Chapter 5 – Schweizerhoff Hotel. Victoria. BC

Chapter 6 – Paxton Residence. Victoria. BC

Chapter 7 – Canadian Pacific Rail Dock, Victoria. BC

Chapter 8 – Commandant’s Office. Fort Rodd Hill. BC

Chapter 9 – Paxton Residence

Chapter 10 – Seattle. Washington State.

Chapter 11 0 Commerce District. Victoria. BC

Chapter 12 – United States Naval Base, San Diego. CA

Chapter 13- North Chinatown. Victoria. BC

Chapter 14 – Trial Island, near Victoria. BC

Chapter 15 – United States Naval Base, San Diego. CA

Chapter 16 – Police Station. Victoria. BC

Chapter 17 – the coast of Baja. Southern Mexico

Chapter 18 – Schweizerhoff Hotel. Victoria. BC

Chapter 19 – Onboard U-H1 in American waters off California

Chapter 20 – Royal Jubilee Hospital. Victoria. BC

Chapter 21 – Off the coast near Monterey, California

Chapter 22 - Paxton Residence. Victoria. BC

Chapter 23 – Schweizerhoff Hotel. Victoria. BC

Chapter 24 – Crossing Esquimalt Harbour, Fort Rodd Hill. BC

Chapter 25 – Office of Commanding Admiral Pacific. US Coastguard.

Chapter 26 – Paxton Residence, Victoria. BC

Chapter 27 – Kitchen, Schweizerhoff Hotel, Victoria. BC

Chapter 28- Naval Dockyard, Esquimalt. BC

Chapter 29 – International Waters, Juan de Fuca Straits

Epilogue

Author’s Notes

About the Author

Other books by Brock Clayards

Chapter 1

The Foreign Quarter, Beijing, China

June 20, 1900

Bloody eerie isn’t it, Gunny? Right strange, if you ask me. I don’t like it one bit. The Chinamen are up to something and it isn’t good.

Redvers Duncan, a Gunnery Sergeant in Her Majesty's Royal Marines, said nothing but scanned the ominously empty streets of the Foreign Quarter. He had been in China almost a year and had seen dissension among the Chinese evolve into the Society of Harmonious Fists, commonly known as the Boxers. These dangerous ultra-nationalists had begun massacring Christian missionaries and their converts.

Redvers finally muttered, You’re spot on corporal. An emissary from the Forbidden City has warned all foreign nationals to leave. Apparently, the Dowager can no longer guarantee our safety. Bloody useless bunch.

Look! Over there! The corporal pointed to smoke in the north. I’ll give you a bob that’s from the German Embassy. Those buggers’ll be sorry they aren’t over here with us.

Redvers snorted, We’d better report to the old man. Go find the Jimmy and be quick about it!

Redvers peered at the smoke and thought he heard gunfire. He was in a hastily fortified area with British, United States, Italian, Japanese, Russian, Austrian and French troops.

Hey, Yank. Hand me those field glasses, if you please? He gestured to a burly sergeant in the blue and white of the United States Marine Corps.

Here you are, Limey. What do you make of those yellow bastards with their damned banners and swords?

Redvers adjusted the glasses and focused on a brightly festooned mob carrying banners and winding its way from the Forbidden City. Fortunately Redvers saw few firearms but read their large sign proclaiming foreigners were not welcome.

It doesn’t look good, Yank. That mob is headed our way.

That’s Frank to you. Frank Barnsdall, from Seattle, Washington.

I’m Redvers Duncan, from the North of England. Apparently we’re in for excitement; the Chinamen aren’t in the mood to chat. The mob’s chanting became a low rumble. He smelled acid smoke and heard sporadic gunfire, then spotted a horse-drawn carriage escorted by heavily-armed men in khaki. Must be refugees from the German Embassy, he thought, as they pushed through a rag tag band of Chinese.

This isn’t good, Limey, muttered Barnsdall. Looks like the Krauts are having a tough go of it! He lowered his field glasses and turned to a US Corporal,

Corporal, alert the Major that trouble is brewing. Ask him to join us at the barricades! Hurry, off with you!

Barnsdall and Duncan watched two Chinese gangs about to converge.

The Germans will be in major difficulty if those mobs unite. The city alleyways reverberated with,

Kha! Kha! Kha!

What the hell are those devils shouting? Barnsdall asked,

Kill. Kill, if my grasp of their language is correct, said Redvers. They sure as hell aren’t friendly. Suddenly, an officer in the Imperial German Navy, in charge of the beleaguered carriage, rallied his men. They fired their rifles rapidly and desperately stabbed with bayonets as they carved through the Chinese. The mob surrounded the carriage, thrashed at the driver, pulled him from his perch, and tried to board the cabin box.

A female shriek sent goose bumps up Redvers neck and saw the mob tear at the carriage. The horses panicked and trampled the crowd and the carriage rocked back and forth on the verge of rolling over.

He glanced at Barnsdall who nodded agreement. They mustered their marines and then a bellowing Redvers led them over the barricades towards the fight. They set upon the Boxers who fell back in disarray. Redvers leapt onto the carriage, grasped the reigns and spurred the team towards the barricades. The Boxers regrouped and surged forward as the carriage broke clear and headed for safety. Redvers turned to watch the furious fight but failed to see a rock outcrop and drove into it. The front axle shattered and hurled the carriage into market stalls and came to rest under a veranda.

Redvers staggered to his feet, lurched to the shattered carriage and directed two dazed men to run for the barricades. He grabbed the bleeding and unconscious woman and carried her over his shoulder towards the barricades. A Boxer advanced with a large pike pole swathed in red silk and he was followed by two more with swords. Redvers fired his revolver three times, and knocked them to the ground. He was breathing heavily but was still ten yards from safety when four more Chinese screaming murderously emerged from an alley. He fired three times but two still came on. He turned and put his body between them and the woman. The closest Boxer swung a club at Redvers, but missed his head. Redvers felled him with a blow from the butt of his empty revolver. The second attacker raised a hatchet; Redvers flinched as the blade hovered but the Boxer, his face a mask of rage and yellow teeth, suddenly staggered backwards from a gunshot. A banshee wail of lead from the barricades drove off the Chinese mob. Redvers, the Marines and the remaining Germans rushed through the Legation barricades.

His Lieutenant clapped an exhausted Redvers across the back. Bloody good show, Duncan! I’ll write you up favourably for what you just did. Those people, particularly the young woman, owe you their lives.

Redvers was doubled over panting and quite unable to reply. Medical personnel attended to the young woman. She was a striking beauty with aristocratic Aryan features and ash blonde hair. The German naval officer who’d led the contingent knelt beside her. He pointed to Redvers and said something to the injured woman and she smiled. He thanked Redvers for saving his wife, then spat towards the Boxers, who had re-grouped at a safe distance from the barricades. Redvers did not see them again, but remembered the small red dragon tattoo on her lower back which was revealed through her torn dress.

As night fell, he went to the American bivouac where Frank Barnsdall sat with other marines around a small campfire, Hey Limey, how about a cup of coffee?

I’ll pass on the coffee, tea is more to my liking but I’ll sit awhile, if you don’t mind? He sat beside Barnsdall. That was a close call this afternoon, bloody close. Doubt if we’ve seen the last of them, though. It’s a dammed good thing they don’t have modern weapons. God help us if the Chinese Army gets into it.

You’re right about that, said Barnsdall. Don’t know how long we can hold out if they get their act together. Surely to God, our governments will send relief forces to save our hides. By the way, that was a smooth piece of driving you done today, ran square into the only bloody rock in sight. Guess you wanted to get your hands on that blonde beauty. Tell me that’s so, isn’t it?

Redvers blushed as he recalled her warm body on his back.

Yes… she was lovely, wasn’t she? He said and grinned.

Chapter 2

Victoria, British Columbia, Canada

March 1914

Winifred, please don’t stand there gawking, you will let the heat out. The night air is chilly. The young woman glanced down the cobble street before she shut the door and latched it. Sorry, father, I was just checking.

You were checking to see if that young constable is making his rounds. The Reverend Mr. Paxton chuckled and peered over his horn-rimmed glasses. I was your age once and I remember things. He is probably a fine character but I wish he was a regular churchgoer. He has only been in the Lord’s House once this last month.

That is because of his duties father. Someone must keep the peace while we are at prayers. Wynn did not know whether the Constable had duty on Sunday mornings but was sure he had good reasons for his absence and would not give up on him. At her age, she could not afford to be choosy.

Wynn looked after her father in their small home in Victoria. Her father and mother had been teaching missionaries in China, but when the Boxer Rebellion erupted, they barely escaped to Victoria, where they had since established a school for Christian converts in the Chinese community. Her father was also an assistant minister at the cathedral. Wynn had helped her mother at the school but, after she died, had assumed all teaching.

Each day she walked to the school in Chinatown and past the police station where she first saw her tall and powerful young constable fill the doorframe. He had a military bearing and an impression of authority which he emphasized with his handlebar moustache. She saw no wedding ring on his finger and guessed he was in his early thirties. Wynn had seen him on patrol near their house and as his beat included Chinatown, he had passed the school on a couple of occasions. She was quite taken with him and had even pointed him out to her father at a Sunday morning service in the cathedral.

Wynn bolted the door and controlled her frustration, as she thought of another Sunday evening marking schoolwork and reading in the parlour. She took a last look before she drew the curtain. She felt trapped in a prison of familial duty as solid as the iron bars on police cells. Supper will be ready soon, father. Please go and wash up; I will set the table in ten minutes.

--o0o--

Early on Monday morning, Redvers Duncan was in the Constables’ room, writing in the police blotter. There’d been some unruly patrons at the saloons on Government Street and the Green Grocer on Market Street had been targeted by an after hour’s visitor. Otherwise his patch was quiet. Langley, the Chief Constable, was a taskmaster so if a serious crime, perpetrated during a constable’s shift, was unsolved after one month, the officer forfeited eight hour’s pay. These simple but harsh rules cut slackers from the police roster.

Glad to see your hulking form this early morning, said Redvers as Frank Barnsdall came in. It was bugger cold last night, especially by the water. But it kept the villains off the street. You look as bright and well fed as a cat. He grinned, but then realized, You spent the night at Molly’s place, didn’t you? He laughed, Don’t let the Sergeant catch wind or the Lord himself will have to save you from the Chief.

Molly, a seamstress, lived above the millinery shop on Pandora Street and had captured Barnsdall’s heart. They should have married but Chief Langley insisted single constables complete two years’ service before they married. Frank Barnsdall was on the threshold of that momentous anniversary but the chief would not be pleased with Frank and Molly’s current nocturnal arrangements.

It’ll all be set right soon, my friend. We’ve published the Marriage Bans, the Chief’s given his blessing and you are my best man. However, you have to resolve one issue.

Yes, I know, Redvers winced, I’ll have an escort; just give me time.

Redvers, you’re not getting any younger. When are you going to find a woman and settle down? Good lord man, enough women give you the eye. You can’t keep flitting from one to another like a humming bird. Molly won’t tolerate a dance hall floozy on your arm at our wedding.

Frank, I’m well aware. Damn it, man. I’ve made efforts, I even went to church. Redvers, determined to change the subject, said, It doesn’t look good in Europe. The eggheads running things seem bent on war. Blast them! We should have people in power who know what warfare is like. Those bloody stiff upper lip Empire types, have no idea. We know better. We’ve smelled blood and death. I’ll be the first to sign up if they’ll take me but God help us if a shooting war begins.

Frank didn’t immediately reply but then said, I’ve seen enough killing to last me a lifetime. This Empire of yours has locked horns with the German crowd, for reasons I cannot fathom. The United States won’t get into it. This is a European matter and nothing to do with us, but I suppose if it came down to it, I would be there for Uncle Sam.

Aye, you’ll be in it, Frank, said Redvers. An old leatherneck like you won’t resist the call. Frank shook his head.

No matter, what happened in our patch last night? That is, if you ventured beyond the guard room?

Frank and Redvers had been friends for thirteen years, since the Boxer Rebellion. After Peking, they went their separate paths. Redvers served on a light cruiser and eventually stationed at the Royal Naval base near Victoria. He fell in love with southern Vancouver Island. It reminded him of his home near the Scottish border. He purchased his discharge and joined the Victoria City Police. Redvers wrote to Frank and told him of the fine country and of his job. Frank was tired of police actions in Central America and it was easy to convince him to settle in Victoria.

Frank, said Redvers, Detective Stevenson is planning another raid on the opium factory on Johnson Street. Unfortunately, this raid, like the others, is only a token effort.

Frank sighed. Yes, eventually they’ll have to get serious about stopping opium. The Tongs will get into it because of the money to be made and then the butter will dance around the skittle.

Redvers looked at his friend. Frank you know the Tongs aren’t just criminal organizations. They’re social clubs in Chinese society. Family and regional ties designate membership just like in our culture. But, with increased revenue from opium peddling we have to cultivate a friendly ear in Chinatown if we hope to keep things quiet.

--o0o--

After a week of rain, the trees were bare, but the grass was lush and green and made a stark contrast against grey cobblestone and boardwalk. Wynn drew the coat tightly around her throat against the chilly breeze from the harbour. Chen Kung, proprietor of Kung Grocery, across from the school, greeted her. Good morning, Honoured Teacher. I will light a joss stick that the spirits may grace you this morning.

She stopped and curtsied, and watched him sweep mud from the boards in front of his open stalls. Thank you, but the Spirit I worship smiles on me and you every day. He doesn’t need to be welcomed with anything more than a wish from my heart. She flashed her white teeth at him, smiled and crossed the muddy street.

The red brick school was set back from the street. A wooden veranda, with an upturned facia, covered the double doors but the entry door was on the right-hand side, away from public view. She saw the banner as she crossed the boardwalk. Its’ Mandarin characters were crude, but she knew it was a threat. Wynn tore the banner from the door and strode briskly back to the shopkeeper.

Kung, look at what someone has nailed on my school door. She placed the banner in his outstretched hand, and then inhaled sharply as she saw his shocked face.

This is bad, very bad, Teacher. Your spirit will have to be very powerful to keep you safe from this evil. He dropped the banner, pushed it into the gutter with his broom, and spat on the ground.

It a threat. Is it not? Please, tell me what it says.

Kung was pale and wouldn’t look into her eyes. It is not so much the message, Teacher, rather the messenger. Teacher, the message says you must stop teaching foreign ways to children of the Kingdom but the banner bears the mark of the Boxers.

Wynn gasped. But they cannot be here! I escaped their evil years ago. This cannot be true, not here in Canada. I must do something.

Kung watched as tears filled her eyes then he saw her troubled features harden as she stooped and picked the banner from the gutter. As Kung leaned on his broom, she churned to the police station, the banner clutched in her white knuckled fist, fluttering in her wake. She dragged it through the great door to the station, and approached the main desk.

I’m a British subject and I have been threatened. I demand that you do something about it; they cannot be allowed to intimidate us in our own land, not here, not ever again! Wynn stood before the desk of the Police Sergeant, slamming down the offensive banner with such force that the inkwell shook, and spattered ink on the daily blotter.

Indeed, Madam! May I ask whom I’m addressing and just what the problem might be?

I am Winifred Paxton, teacher and director of the Chinese Academy of Learning, just down the road. I discovered this horrible banner plastered across the entrance to the building this morning. You may not be able read it but the message is plain. I am to stop teaching young Chinese about Christian values. Furthermore, the banner bears the mark of those heathen devils, the Boxers. Those savages chased my family out of China; I refuse to be intimidated in my own country. Something simply must be done! She was red-faced, and waited for his response.

I assure you, Mrs.. Paxton, I take this matter seriously. I am ignorant of the Chinese language, however, I do have two constables who can read this scrawl and I’ll have them look into the matter at once. We cannot have Christian women being threatened by heathen savages.

Thank you, Sergeant; you have been most helpful, but I must now open my school. I look forward to hearing further about this matter; you know where to find me. Good morning. She bustled out of the station. The Sergeant watched her leave then dabbed at the ink stains on his blotter. After a moment, he tossed his cloth away and called into the Constables’ room.

Where is Barnsdall? Get me Barnsdall!

--o0o--

As Frank Barnsdall walked through Fan Tan Alley his nose hinted of exotic stories about the inhabitants, as pork, poultry, compost, and the essence of humans mingled in an olfactory cocktail that his nose would have been wiser to avoid. The crowds and bustle reminded him of Peking. In China he had been the foreigner, but Victoria was his turf and the locals in this ghetto deferred to him. Their deference was laced with suspicion and hostility whereas his partner Redvers held some degree of respect, a gift not yet bestowed upon Frank. He wondered