37731	----	Alter Ego A TALE by Rev. W. W. Walker Author of "By Northern Lakes," "Sabre Thrusts at Freethought," "Plain Talks on Health and Morals, Part II," and "Occident and Orient." AUTHOR'S EDITION TORONTO WILLIAM BRIGGS 1907 Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand nine hundred and seven, by WILLIAM WESLEY WALKER, at the Department of Agriculture To Lydia Kirby Walker the granddaughter of a cultured Frenchman and the faithful partner of my joys and sorrows, this volume is affectionately dedicated. The author is indebted to the great national newspapers of Canada and the United States, the Toronto _Globe_ and _Collier's Weekly_, for some facts from the former and some figures from the latter in rounding up the historical part of the story as relating to the conflict in the Far East. PREFACE To men who teach and write the oft-recurring question comes, How can we so influence others in heart and intellect as to help them reach a loftier plane of thought and action? As every life has its Gethsemane of sorrow and tragedy, so every life has its morning star of hope and its mainspring of faith. Our salvation, then, and the lifting up and saving of others is the exercise of that vital principle which has its incarnation in hope. The use of this still further causes the mountains of difficulty that loom portentous in our pathway and tower to the heavens to crumble into mole-hills. The soul is made optimistic and the life beautified by its possession, while the ear is brought, spiritually speaking, within range of the victorious shout, "More than conquerors!" and the new song, the song of Moses and the Lamb. CONTENTS I. The Appointment II. Mr. Melvin's Marriage and Teachings III. Secretary-Treasurer Thompson's Death--A Surprise from the Far-off East IV. 203 Metre Hill and Mukden V. The Battle of Mukden--and Call of Mr. Devoau as Associate Minister VI. Further Teachings and how they are Estimated ALTER EGO CHAPTER I. _THE APPOINTMENT._ In the uplands of Canada was an attractive church with a spire that pointed longing souls to the skies, and the pastor of which had finished his course with joy and was now joining in the hallelujah choruses of the upper sanctuary. The authorities of the denomination to which the church belonged appointed a man to its pulpit who was progressive and independent, as well as being very broad-minded. The necessity for this lay in the fact that the population of the place represented nearly all the languages and creeds to be found in the Dominion, and consequently if a man of narrow views were appointed he would soon make shipwreck of everything. The new minister, as well as being broad and advanced, was very honorable, and would not in any way infringe upon the rights of others; but as Mount Zion was the only church in the place, he was perfectly safe from any charge of meanness, in the form of coaxing sheep away from a brother's fold. The first Sunday came upon which the Rev. Thomas Melvin was to occupy his new pulpit, and an immense congregation filled every part of the edifice. The text was from the Saviour's words, "Feed my sheep," and the preacher had not gone far when his attentive hearers discovered that he was a man of great intellect and unusual power as a speaker, and they were swayed as corn-stalks in a tempest as he reasoned of the Saviour's place in the world, and of His work, and also of man's obligations to Him, as well as to his fellows. All through the week this first fearless and powerful sermon was the talk of all who had heard it. Some, however, did not like it, as telling them of their duty caused indigestion, while others were delighted, as they loved a man who shunned not to declare all counsel, whether pleasing or displeasing. The next Sabbath disclosed the fact that Mr. Melvin was no plug either, as he said things outside the scope of the Bible and over the boundary line of prescribed theology. One old gentleman who occupied a front seat in the church, and who was of portly mould and genial disposition, and whose dinners were really of more account in his estimation than anything else, forgot said feasts for a period sufficiently long to say: "My songs! I wonder what that new preacher means, anyway!" Next day our friend, who was dean of the dinner-table faculty, called on his new pastor and said, after being asked how he liked the sermon on Sunday: "My songs! You said things that my bloomin' brain could 'ardly hunderstand." To tell the truth, Mr. Melvin was something of a statesman as well as a preacher, and with narrow bigots soon became as much hated as he was beloved by the broad and liberal minded. The bigots, however, soon ceased to be. Although those classing themselves as belonging to other denominations were in no case strong enough to form societies, yet they remained loyal to what they claimed allegiance to, but this did not hinder them from frequently hearing Mr. Melvin, who was delighted to see his countrymen, who in some cases spoke the mellow, musical tongue of France, that land of art, science, and literature, and military power. As his congregation was so cosmopolitan and contained representatives of every leading denomination, the pastor of Mount Zion preached the doctrines of the Bible in their broadest sense, and showed their most comprehensive meaning. Everyone who heard Mount Zion's rector, or pastor, noticed that he was perfectly fearless in depicting the exceeding sinfulness of sin, and having found out that a certain prominent man in the place was very vile in his morals, and had ruined many young lives, and was in the habit of running the rig on good people, and who also was most un-Canadian in his ways, he openly rebuked him for his evil deeds and for not restraining his family. Of course, this exasperated the man, and for a long time he was a persistent enemy of Mount Zion's pastor, but he was yet to find out that the servant of the Galilean would conquer. His sympathies were all of the Mother Goose type, as is the case with most evil men, whose stamina is so exhausted in sinning that they lack the courage to stand alone, and never dare to be Daniels, above everything heeding God's command. As Rev. Mr. Melvin was the only resident ordained man in the place, he had a great many marriages. Indeed, all the marriages--or rather, marriage ceremonies--were performed by himself and the Rev. Father Trenton, of the Catholic Church, who came occasionally from a neighboring parish to minister to people of his own faith. Mr. Melvin, after meeting Father Trenton two or three times, decided that he was a man of fine principle and real moral worth, also a strong advocate for total abstinence from cigarettes and strong drink, believing, as a man of culture and science, that the effect of both was pernicious and poisonous, and that on that ground they were to be avoided. The reverend father was a most companionable man, and, as Mr. Melvin said, was a jolly good fellow. he was soon invited to the manse for tea, where a most enjoyable time was spent, and where many a good story was told. There soon came an invitation to Mr. Melvin from Father Trenton to visit him at his home in the next town. The invitation was promptly accepted, and another happy evening whiled away. It was inspiring to all languages and creeds to see the warm and hearty cordiality of feeling that existed between these two broad and liberal-minded men, which taught the world that the elevation of the human race lay not in such senseless antagonisms as existed among our bigoted and foolish ancestors, but in the exercise of a spirit not only of toleration, but of good-fellowship and love. Some very amusing incidents occurred during the performance of the marriage ceremony. One man, who had previously been received into the Church, and who was asked the question, "Will you renounce the world, the flesh and the evil one?" the answer of which was, "I renounce them all," was asked, "Will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, for better, for worse, in sickness and health, till death you do part?" and in his excitement, having the membership reception in mind, he said, "I renounce them all." On another occasion, while a couple were being yoked together, the groomsman suddenly leaned over and saluted the bride instead of the groom, to the infinite amusement of all present, and causing the face of the latter to take on a crimson hue. CHAPTER II. _MR. MELVIN'S MARRIAGE AND TEACHINGS._ It was rumored for some time that the minister of Mount Zion, or the incumbent, or pastor, or whatever you desire to call him, was in the habit of visiting a certain young lady in a distant town. Now there were many fine young ladies belonging to the tabernacle, but as distance seemed to lend merit and attractiveness, its spiritual head found his choice elsewhere. Although not a graduate, Miss Spencer was a well-read young lady of refined instincts and excellent character; she had taught school for some time, and was of French ancestry. In commenting afterward upon his choice, Mr. Melvin said that as a Canadian he saw that one of the most important steps in nation building was to unify, as far as possible, the different races and creeds in this country, and he was one of those who were setting the pace. When Mrs. Melvin was brought home, after a very interesting ceremony at the Spencer homestead, the people were charmed with her and the tabernacle congregation gave her a splendid reception. The minister's wife in every way justified the good opinion formed of her at first sight. She was a quiet, unobtrusive Christian, with a sympathetic nature, which soon brought her in touch with the poor and afflicted in the community. Many a basket prepared by her own hand found its way into the homes of want, and many a visit was made which comforted and cheered the anguished sufferer, and which tended to turn the hour of sorrow into one of joy. Mrs. Melvin proved herself an angel of mercy in Carsville, and frequently relieved her husband by taking charge of a service of praise, or by preaching a sermon in connection with the Sabbath service. Her work as a teacher had made her a fluent, impressive and logical speaker, who was always acceptable to the people. Mr. Melvin now saw that the time was ripe for moulding public opinion along not only spiritual but national lines, and he did not even consult the politicians concerning the matter, but as a teacher applied himself resolutely to the task. The very first Sunday after bringing his bride from her somewhat distant home the pastor of Mount Zion Tabernacle preached on sin, and said the individual must come out from among his sinful associates in renunciation thereof, and dare to be singular, or there is little hope. As it is with individuals, so with nations. The people who in a national sense, associate with a country, to the extent of forming a part of it, that reeks with drunkenness and licentiousness will assuredly, if they do not come out from it, share its ruin, which is sure and certain as the fact that God rules and reigns. The following Sunday Mr. Melvin preached on the character and attributes of Christ, saying that, He did not rule or reign among men in an imperial sense, seated upon a kingly throne in such splendor that only a chosen few could approach Him, but in a thoroughly democratic manner, to whom the rich and poor, the learned and unlearned, all alike could come, to find in Him a Saviour, Brother, Friend and merciful High Priest, one who was touched with a feeling of human infirmity, and who always entered into sympathy with humankind. The third Sunday the subject was religion, the preacher asking if it was a creed, or a bundle of doctrinal standards, if it was Calvinism or Arminianism, Brahminism or Buddhism, Confucianism or Zoroastrianism, or the cheering of narrow-minded bigots for sixteenth century ideas. The man who with Pauline fearlessness asked these questions also himself answered them, saying it is none of these, but it is to be so filled with the loving Christ spirit as to visit the sick and fatherless in their affliction, and keep unspotted from the world, to manifest the Christ spirit in all life's relationships, which spirit was one of broadest charity and love. After those three momentous sermons the minister, to stimulate his young people in a way that would lead to energetic action along the line of acquiring knowledge, preached a sermon on the subject of education. He told his hearers not to be afraid to read scientific and philosophical as well as historical literature, and do not become nervous, he said, if many of your old cherished ideas are proven to have had for their foundation the ever-shifting sand. If research proves that man has been on this earth 2,000,000 of years instead of 6,000, as formerly taught, do not be afraid to accept it, for it is in perfect harmony with the teachings of God's own revelation, and infinitely more correct than the antiquated teaching of the past, according to the most eminent authority in the world. If in former times it was taught that the atmosphere was forty-five miles high, who now would continue to adhere to such a belief, when with their own' eyes they can see meteoric stones burst into flame one hundred miles from the earth, thus proving the atmosphere to be considerably more than that height, as in order to become so heated as to glow it must collide with atmospheric particles for many miles. The same may be said of history, study it in every phase, turn on the side lights, and you will find that in many cases it is very different to what you have always been taught. The immense congregation which thronged the tabernacle were now beginning to find out that their former teachers were of the antediluvian school, but that a man with enlightened mind and scholarship so acute that it could not be measured by academic degrees had come among them. This progressive and advanced teacher, however, warned them that in the midst of all their advancement they would find that Israel's God was their God, and that they would have to obey Him, and live clean, faithful, fruitful lives, so as to one day hear the "Well done," and enter into the Master's joy. CHAPTER III. _SECRETARY-TREASURER THOMPSON'S DEATH--A SURPRISE FROM THE FAR-OFF EAST._ The most pious and trusted of all the tabernacle officials was John Thompson, who, though not handsome in the outer man, was in soul beautiful. Indeed, his homeliness was at one time the subject of a good joke, when an old friend of Mr. Melvin's, who was a noted scientist, in visiting him, attended a Sabbath service, and seeing him (that is, Mr. Thompson), said to a bystander: "I have long sought for the missing link to establish the development theory, but the last place I ever expected to find it was in Mount Zion Tabernacle, and yet there it is!" In spite of jests, however, the secretary-treasurer had the qualities of mind and heart which go to make the true man, and when word was borne to his pastor that he was seriously ill, Mr. Melvin lost no time in reaching his couch. The first question he asked was, "Are you suffering much, Brother Thompson," who, in reply, said: "I am suffering great bodily pain, but though heart and flesh fail I am trusting in the living God." The fifteen minutes that followed were too sacred to record, and when the minister left the sick man's chamber it was noticed that his face looked as if he had been treading on the borderland of Paradise. Next day, as our clerical friend was entering the home of his afflicted official, he met the medical doctor who had been in attendance, and asked him if there was any hope for his friend. The doctor said that if his trouble had been attended to in time his life would have been saved, but now no power on earth could do more than prolong it for a few days. Mr. Melvin saw that what the man of skill said was correct, as he had frequently noticed that Mr. Thompson was in poor health, if appearances went for anything, and altogether he was so busied with his duties and deeds of charity that he neglected himself until there was no chance for medical science to give him, as it would have done under Providence, if consulted in time, years of usefulness. Next time the pastor visited his dying parishioner, he received some good advice from one who was not nearly so learned as himself. Said he: "If your sermons possessed the spirituality which they do philosophy and common-sense, the congregation would soon receive a great spiritual uplift." Mr. Melvin was a very sane man, and heeded not the rebuke except to profit by it. Indeed, it was a marked compliment to him that his teaching was endorsed by the best man in his congregation while on the verge of the heavenly kingdom. Next day the minister called again to see his faithful officer, and on inquiry found that his hopes still rested upon his Saviour's blood and righteousness, and in the conversation which followed Mr. Thompson said: "How little in this hour do stocks, bonds and mortgages, houses and lands, trouble one. The only house of which I can now think is the one to which I have a clear title through a loving Saviour's sacrificial death, and it has not been formed by human hands, for its builder and founder is God." As Mr. Melvin bade farewell to his friend on this occasion, he saw that he was steadily sinking, and would soon be in the house of many mansions. About two o'clock next morning the door-bell at the parsonage was so vigorously rung that everybody was awakened, and a message was handed in, asking the pastor to go, if possible, at once to Mr. Thompson's, as he was just dying. Mr. Melvin dressed quickly and passed out into the darkness of the night, soon arriving at the home of the dying man. One glance showed that the sands had almost run out, but upon his feeling the hand-clasp, the sick man revived for a time and said, "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, the things which God has in store for those that love Him." After uttering these words he seemed to be exhausted, and sank down deeper into his pillow. Mr. Melvin watched him, and after a time saw his lips move, and placing his ear close to them, caught the words, "Home at last, home at last." Then the lips ceased to move, and all could see that the ransomed spirit of the redeemed man had passed beyond the river. The people of Carsville and of the world had now an evidence that character and true worth could not be measured by outward appearance. During the hours that the body of the sainted Thompson lay in state and was deposited in God's acre the flags were flying at half-mast, and every business place was closed. In spite of unattractive exterior the people of all languages and creeds in the place recognized the fact that a broad-minded man, full of loving sympathy for all classes and creeds, was not dead, but had been translated. Mr. Melvin always looked with a certain measure of suspicion upon holiness people, believing that there was more hypocrisy than sanity in all that sort of thing, and called to mind the case of Sambo who professed it, and when asked by his good old-fashioned class-leader, who knew his weakness, if he had during the past week stolen any ducks, said, "No, massa." "Any geese?" "No, massa." "Any turkeys?" "No, massa." "Bless the Lord, Sambo, you are on your happy way to heaven." As the leader passed on to admonish the next, Sambo turned to his neighbor and whispered: "If massa had said chickens he had me; I was at de roosts of Widder Simpkins last week." Mr. Thompson had, however, never professed it, but his life gave evidence that he possessed it, and his pastor thought it wise never to mention that much misunderstood word "holiness" again. Shortly after the burial of the secretary-treasurer there came to Carsville a straight military-looking young man with an indifferent air, who procured employment at the foundry, and whom the minister noticed in the congregation, intercepting him at the close of the service to find out who he was and to welcome him. The person was Leonard Devoau, who had returned from Manchuria, where he had fought in the Russian army at Port Arthur and Mukden, escaping from the former to the latter disguised as a Chinaman, where he took part in the world's greatest battle. Mr. Devoau said that he was born at Ottawa, the capital of the Dominion, and always loved adventure, and it was this love that led him to enlist in the Russian army, and pass through the frightful scenes at the above places. Mr. Melvin was much impressed by the bearing of the young stranger who had returned from Manchuria so recently, and invited him to the parsonage so that they might get better acquainted. During the course of the evening he asked his guest if he was fond of soldiering, and in reply was told that when he left Canada he was in love with the idea, and even after the awful experiences of Port Arthur, where he was often for hours together in a perfect hell of fire, he thought he would love a fair fight in the open, and accordingly broke for Mukden. He told the minister, however, that this great battle, including the retreat, was even worse than the siege, as in the former large bodies of them had frequently to face about and charge with the bayonet to press back the hordes of Japanese who were continually driving in upon them. Mr. Devoau said: "When you think of the fact that we could never meet our enemies when we were not outnumbered from two to three to every one of our own men, you will concede that we never had a fair chance, but put them man to man and they could never withstand the Russians in a bayonet charge. The disparity in numbers is very evident from the fact that the Russians had only 300,000 infantry and 26,700 cavalry at Mukden, while opposed to this was a force of 650,000 men, or, for all practical purposes, just double the number. We fought them for nineteen days along a front one hundred miles in length, and were only then defeated by an accident, bringing off 1,300 guns out of 1,360, and a larger quantity of baggage, marching into headquarters, as the corps of General Linevitch actually did, with banners flying and bands playing as if they were just fresh from the parade ground. Marshal Oyama may go down in history as a great strategist, but in my humble judgment General Kuropatkin is greater. The general knew full well that if he had one more army corps he could have cut in two the long drawn out flanking force of his antagonist, crumpled it up, and turned their victory into a disastrous and decisive defeat. As it was, at the close of the war General Linevitch confronted the enemy with 1,000,000 men in arms, and they, unwilling to try conclusions when there was man for man, made a peace favorable to Russia on the whole. As corroboration of this I give you the word of the foreign military attaches to the Russian army." As Mr. Melvin did not in his own home consider it in very good form to inquire into the past history of Mr. Devoau, he soon visited him at his lodgings and asked him concerning his life. He said, in answer to the question, that he had been brought up by Christian parents, who held that any deviation from the path of moral rectitude was an awful thing, and consequently he himself had never gotten astray morally; his besetting sin, he said, was a love for wild adventure by flood or field, and he was now perfectly satisfied and desired no more of that kind of thing. He had foolishly thought that there was much glory in war, but after seeing its hydraheaded hideousness, and himself testing its fearful hardships, he was prepared to denounce it as anti-Christian and barbarous, except in a defensive sense. Also concerning his education he had helped different members of his father's family in their studies, and had thus been prevented from entering upon a university course, though he had undergraduate standing. The pastor of the tabernacle said he was surprised that with his standing he should enter a foundry, and work his way just as one would who had no earlier advantages, but the reply was a very rational one, for he said he and his brother had decided that when they had mastered every detail of the business, and had saved sufficient money to warrant it, they would start a foundry of their own. "While in the Russian army," he continued, "I discovered that the prospect for iron founders was brighter than for most classes." The minister now asked his new friend if he would like to join the tabernacle, and at the same time gave him a hearty invitation, but he said he could not conscientiously join, but would attend the services. Mr. Melvin said, "Now I am not a bigot, and do not insist on every one doing as I do, and being what I am. How would you like to simply become a member of our Young People's Society, where we would help you and you could help us?" "I will do that," said Mr. Devoau. The new acquisition to the Debating Club of Mount Zion Tabernacle proved a great drawing card, as it was well known at the foundry and all around that he possessed a fine moral character and could always be relied upon. Before asking him to connect himself with the society the minister had not only talked to him personally, but had also written to Ottawa, and asked concerning his past life, and found that he had told the truth, and that, as he himself said, "The worst things he had ever done, and that only since entering the army, was to smoke a cigar and play a game of cards without stakes." The pastor and his officials, however, were soon to receive a rebuke when Mr. Devoau told them, after they had been praising him for his clean life, that if they had more of the loving Christ spirit instead of lauding him they would be out into the lanes and alleys, into the highways and byways, gathering in the lost and sinful rather than those who had always been moral. "It seems to me," he said, "the Church is more needed to foster and guide those who have had their garments stained with sin than those who without any credit to themselves, but to the instruction and coercion of puritanical parents, always kept themselves clean." Mr. Melvin was so struck with the fact that the young man who had rebuked them possessed true worth that he invited him to relate his experiences during the war in an address, when the whole evening would be given up to him, and on which the tabernacle doors would be thrown open to the public. The invitation was accepted, the young ex-soldier announcing his intention of relating some of the incidents in connection with the storming of 203 Metre Hill, of which he was one of the defenders, and the assaults on the entrenchments at Mukden. CHAPTER IV. _203 METRE HILL AND MUKDEN._ Before a crowded audience and under the auspices of the Young People's Club, Mr. Devoau said: "Now, before I launch right out into a description of battle charges, ladies and gentlemen, I want you to understand that I feel so humble and modest in this matter that I believe if I had never seen Port Arthur the defence would have been just as stubborn, and if I had not been in the advanced works at Mukden the battle would have lasted nineteen days all the same, and the army of the Czar would have been saved. Nothing worthy of notice occurred during my long voyage from Montreal; at least everything was so tame in the shape of the railway trip from Ottawa to the above-mentioned place, and the tossing upon the waters of the mighty deep until a blockade runner landed me at the seat of war, to what followed afterwards that I will not weary you to-night by relating it. "When I arrived at headquarters General Stoessel did not require my services, as Russians only were preferred, but I pleaded so hard with him through an interpreter, and told him I had come all the way from Canada, and was just spoiling for a fight, telling him at the same time if he desired to know more about me to send a cable message to their consul at Ottawa. This seemed to satisfy the general, and he at last assigned me to the Prebensky Regiment of sharpshooters that held 203, after testing me with a rifle. I soon got well acquainted with my comrades, and a jollier lot of fellows never lived, who had no end of fun at the expense of the little niggers, as they termed the Japanese. Our fun, however, was shortlived, for one day the hills opposite our position burst into flame as though struck by lightning, and 203 Metre spurted flame, and boiled like a cauldron from a succession of fearful explosions, as shells alighted upon it. Our colonel signalled us to lie close. Every little while a gun would be tossed clean into the air by the explosion of an eleven-inch shell, and sometimes a whole squad of men would be literally torn to pieces, legs, arms and fragments of flesh flying in all directions. This pounding made us dreadful angry, a number of the men swearing fluently, even the grey-haired colonel, I was told, made some unmentionable remarks, and I, who had never sworn in my life, made some very sarcastic references to the proceeding. "Those horrible eleven-inch shells made bomb-proofs and covered works of all kinds very little more secure than the open. Many men were struck down around me, some of them horribly mangled, and portions of the works literally smashed to splinters, but such is war, and some call it glory. "After this fearful hammering had gone on for a time with hell reigning all around, as suddenly as it started the appalling din ceased, and nothing could be heard but the piteous moaning of men who were so horribly mangled, many of them, that if their own mothers were present, they could not recognize them. During the awful bombardment, just as we had expected, the enemy, who had made considerable progress under cover of the night, had advanced right to the foot of the hill. Hitherto we could see nothing, as not a soldier was in sight, and all that we could do was to pound the naked hillside, but now the little brown squads, in twenties, began rushing across the fire zone, and it appeared as if they were reserves coming up to reinforce the men at the base of the hill. "Our blood was up after the abuse we had received, and we pounded them with big guns, pom-poms, Maxims and rifles, but still they came, and quickly forming, marched up the valley of the shadow of death until a shrill whistle rang out, when they turned square toward our position, another whistle and they doubled files, and came on with splendid precision. Their colonel, a grey-haired veteran, stood on a spur, and heedless of shrieking missiles, had only one thought, and that was of 203. It is true the hill had been assaulted before, while it is equally true that the enemy had been beaten back with frightful carnage. Now, however, something seemed to say that the end was near, as old Teleda, the veteran of twenty-seven engagements, stood as if on parade, directing the attack. His men sank to mother earth singly and in mangled heaps, but he had no eye for their dead or ear for the moaning of their wounded; 203 was the game, and anything smaller, such as noting the mutilated forms upon the blood-drenched sands in the valley, was beneath contempt. A battery of six guns came up to the foot of the hill at a gallop, the gunners setting them at an angle of many degrees, so as to rake our works, but though they concealed themselves as best they could, our sharpshooters frequently got a bead, and an artilleryman would throw up his hands with a shriek and tumble in a heap. "After a rest the enemy opened again, the hills in front spouting flame, and the battery at the foot of our position vomiting death. Between the explosions, however, and they came thick and fast, we saw the figures of men as numerous as ants swarming up the base of the hill. Our machine guns were soon angled upon them, and our rifles sent rattling volleys among them, but the explosions in our position now come so frequently that we are soon choked in clouds of dust, and battered by splinters of gun carriages and even falling sand bags. The signal now rang out to fix bayonets, and this was no sooner done than hand grenades were hurled in upon us, the explosions of which tore the heads off some of our men, the legs and arms off others, but the most sickening sight to me was that of a man not three yards away who had the fore part of his chest clean torn away, leaving his mangled lungs exposed to view. At this stage observation was cut short by a whole battalion of Japanese infantry tumbling over the parapet, followed by swarms of reserves. We sprang upon them with the steel, and a frightful conflict ensued, men fell dead in twos, often with their bayonets buried in one another's bodies. For two or three minutes nothing could be heard but shots, and imprecations, and shrieks, and rattling steel, and then all was over, 203 Metre Hill was taken, but after we got out--that is, all that was left of us--it was turned into a smoking volcano by the shells from our forts around, and the enemy nearly shared our fate in being ejected." CHAPTER V. _THE BATTLE OF MUKDEN--AND CALL OF MR. DEVOAU AS ASSOCIATE MINISTER._ After the recital of the fall of the key to Port Arthur, the speaker of the evening gave his experiences in the world's greatest battle as follows: "I arrived at Mukden long before the fight, and after the famous victorious charge of Poutiloff up the slopes of Lone Tree Hill, by which the Japanese were driven out with fearful loss, I wanted to be one of its defenders, but General Kuropatkin seemed to know all about me, and insisted that I connect myself with the force holding Yuhungtun. I was angry and thought I was going to miss the liveliest part of it, but the general knew better. "There was a good chance to become acquainted with the men before the conflict, and I found them really fine fellows. Some were capital marksmen, and as the enemy's outposts drew nearer amused themselves by sniping the men in the advanced pits, and many a Jap whose head only was visible did we see lifted out of his hole with his brains oozing out of a bullet perforation in his upper story. The time came at last, however, when 1,000,000 men confronted each other in the lines of battle, who were destined to suffer a loss in killed, wounded and prisoners within three weeks of 250,000 men, or just one-fourth of the entire number. Although the battle proper lasted about nine days, what with preliminaries and the rear-guard action which followed, it might be safe to add ten more. The struggle was fearful, and nobody was so much master of the situation as our commander-in-chief, who knew from the beginning where the blow would fall. "General Rennenkampf, the Cossack chief, had with his staff traversed the entire one hundred miles of front and had handed in his report to his superior. The plan of Marshal Oyama was to outflank our army and cut off its retreat, and after surrounding it pound it, until it capitulated, but in Kuropatkin he had met a man so able in strategy that he could easily outgeneral him and bring his plans to naught. When the eleven-inch shells which had wrought such destruction at the port began to fall it soon became evident that the works on which had been expended the labor of months and the skill of the best engineers were going to dust. In spite of the fact, however, that we were outclassed in numbers and heavy artillery our men put up a terrible fight. After a fearful pounding with all kinds of guns, one day the enemy in overwhelming force came upon us with the bayonet, and after a hand-to-hand struggle, without parallel we believe, in which the ground was piled with the slain, we were forced out and our works taken. During the awful struggle which cost us our position, I was struck in the side by the steel of a Jap, which cut a groove between two of my ribs, but although I was not seriously hurt I recognized the fact that one inch more, or possibly half of that, and to-night instead of talking to you I would have been in a nameless grave on Manchuria's plains, with my warrior shroud for a winding sheet, until the earth would give up its dead. "It is a remarkable fact that although people said, with the advent of modern repeating arms and machine guns, that bayonet charges were no longer possible, as such rushes in force would spell annihilation, yet there never was a battle in all history where so many charges were made and in which cold steel crossed so often as at Mukden. "Word now came to us that our army had taken the offensive in the centre, and was forcing the enemy back, and encouraged by this we determined to retake our lost position. As we were forming for the attack the divisional commander came along, and noticing the shortage of officers, said to the colonel of our regiment: 'Take the most experienced men from the ranks and put them in charge of sections and companies.' Although this was said in Russian, I had now picked up enough of the language to understand it. The colonel did not like the advice and said: 'General, this is contrary to custom; you know we need to safeguard these positions by the use of a little red tape.' The general became furious and said: 'Red tape to ----! It has been the curse of the army in the past, and it will curse any army, and at, best bring nothing but humiliation. What we want is merit, which practically means experience and courage with a large amount of intelligence thrown in.' It was now evident to the colonel that he must obey his superior officer, and he came over to me and said: 'Devoau, I want you to take No. 5 Company, as its officers are all dead or wounded.' I set my teeth and obeyed, believing that I myself would soon be as they. All was soon ready and the order was given, 'Forward, steady under cover.' When we reached the open or fire zone two whistles pierced the air--one to deploy in loose order and the other to double. We now swept forward, the enemy's batteries opening upon us. The men of my company went down, sometimes one and sometimes three or four in a heap at a time. As we reached our old position I was perfectly furious because of our losses, and though I had never sworn in my life before I yelled between my clenched teeth, 'Give them _hell_, boys!' Just as we were tumbling in upon them our colonel, who was braver and better than any of us, was shot through the brain and instantly killed. Even though the colonel was killed and whole companies had gone down in that awful rush, the Japanese might as well have tried to stem Niagara's torrent as to beat back our infuriated men, and all that was left of them got out faster than they had charged in. The night within the village was one that would never fade from memory. The streets were strewn with broken rifles, twisted sabres and bayonets, dismounted guns, broken gun carriages and dead men, some of whom still clutched each other in the grip of death. I was now ordered, though I felt unequal to the task or honor, to take temporary command of our decimated regiment. "In trying to hold on to our old position we had to withstand some terrible bayonet rushes on the part of the enemy in efforts to retake it, and our regiment, which entered the battle with 2,450 men, had just 585 left to respond to the order to retire. Another regiment lost 1,100 men. The place assigned us in this most, orderly retreat was in the rear-guard, and just as we took our places our brigade commander was decapitated by the explosion of a pom-pom shell, and I was ordered to hand over my regiment to a major and take charge of the brigade. "We had an awful time during the retreat, but every onrush was stemmed, and at each repulse of the foe our men, with bayonets dripping red, cheered to the echo. "The war was now practically over, and although every man of ours had two foemen opposed to him, the Japs had a narrow escape from defeat; nothing but the accident of a duststorm averting it, by enabling them in the darkness thereof to break the lines of General Linevitch when his men could not see a yard ahead of them. "When we reached headquarters I, having nothing but a temporary connection with the Russian army, went to my chief and tendered him my uniform and arms, telling him, as there was not likely to be any more fighting, I would return to Canada. He, however, refused to take anything, saying that as a mark of honor and appreciation I must retain them, and after saying 'Good-bye' to my battle-scarred comrades I went to the station to entrain for the coast, and as it steamed out a crowd of officers and men waved their caps and handkerchiefs, shouting, 'Canada for ever; long live Canada and the Canadians!' I felt I did not do much for them--any one, perhaps, would have done better--but I had done my little best, and they had trusted and honored me. I like the Russians; they are good fellows, and are greatly slandered in the West. They have a moral code, and with some exceptions, they live up to it, and any nation that crosses arms with them will pay a heavy toll. "In closing, I presume you would like to know more fully my opinion of war, and in giving it I will say that if you murder a man by shooting or stabbing him you are merciful, but if you kill him by exploding an eleven-inch shell, in many cases he will be torn to fragments and his dismembered body scattered over an acre of ground. In other instances that I have seen at Mukden and 203 Metre Hill, men have been mortally wounded and left an unrecognizable mass of flesh and blood, which for days heaved with anguish and life, while others, after hours and sometimes days of agony, died with broken bayonets protruding from their backs, having entered as gallant breasts as ever swelled with breath and life. "I have forsworn war for ever, after the dreadful scenes which I have witnessed, and there were scenes which I did not witness, in far-off Russia and Japan, which were infinitely more appalling, where was seen the dreary sobbing of broken-hearted widowhood and the piteous wailing of hungry, fatherless children. Added to this was the pale-faced sorrow of sisters bereft of brothers and sweethearts, who had lost those who would have been nearer than brothers, and who now with broken hearts ceased to live and began only to exist in hopeless despair. The Russians met in their foes armies trained after the pattern of the German military system, and none of us ever again desire to cross weapons with men trained as those are, who have learned from that land of advanced scholarship and military superiority. The Japanese were foemen worthy of their steel, but instead of their arms being dishonored fresh lustre was shed upon them." At the close of his address Mr. Devoau was applauded to the echo, after adding as a rider that in his denunciation of war he would, of course, make an exception of defensive operations. The next Sabbath in the morning service Mr. Melvin started the tabernacle congregation by announcing that as he would soon reach the retiring line, and as the immense congregation, with its many needs, overtaxed his strength, he had long thought of an associate who, when he retired, would take full charge. Continuing, he said: "I have spoken to Mr. Devoau and asked him if he would not abandon the thought of a life so selfish as that of making himself one of the foremost iron founders in Canada and join me in the work of preaching and teaching. His answer has been favorable, if it is the will of the people, and he has further said that if it is their will he will accept it as the Master's will." A meeting of the officers of the church was called for Tuesday evening, when the matter was discussed, and Mr. Devoau's profession of faith heard, when he told them that he was of French-Canadian parentage and could not subscribe to every technicality. His frankness and fearlessness won every heart, a vote was taken, and he was unanimously called to be associate pastor of Mount Zion. CHAPTER VI. _FURTHER TEACHINGS AND HOW THEY ARE ESTIMATED._ After his ordination the new preacher took his place in the pulpit once every Sunday, and being now a close student of theology as well as of other subjects, he soon became an eloquent and powerful speaker, and the entire congregation was delighted with him. The last Sunday of the national year, Mr. Melvin announced a sermon on "The Ideal Relationship of Capital and Labor," prompted by the recent trouble at the foundry between employers and their hands. The preacher of the day said: "Beware of so-called socialism, for it trenches very closely on the borderland of anarchism, and after having listened to lectures and sermons an hour long and read many books upon that much-abused topic, I am constrained to turn to the teaching of the Man of Nazareth, and find in that teaching something more rational and common-sense than elsewhere. In the first place our Saviour recognized property rights when he said, 'Render unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's, and unto God the things which are God's.' This doctrine is for the workingman as well as for his employer, and enables both to procure homes for themselves and hold them in their own right. "We cannot fail to recognize the fatherhood of God, and if so then we must recognize the brotherhood of man, for all men truly should be such. If you and I have come to that point where we regard every man as our brother, on the authority of Jesus Christ, the social problem will be solved, and the capitalist will regard and treat the man who toils for him as the son of his Father God, and the toiler will regard the employer as not only his brother, but co-heir with himself to an incorruptible inheritance. Much depends, brethren, on the exercise of that charity which translates love. Love one another and you will use one another aright. As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, and there was life as the wounded Israelites looked upon it, so there is life in a look at the crucified One, and there is more than that, there is adjustment of relationships between husband and wife, between pastor and people, between citizens and their chief magistrate, between capital and labor. I can do no better than lift my hand toward the sky and utter that little classic, '_Ecce Homo_,' and He is the Man of Sorrow." The senior pastor's sermon had a marvellous effect upon the people, and it was said that the iron workers' difficulty was soon settled on the Christ principle. The next Sunday being July 1st, the anniversary of Confederation, the Rev. Mr. Devoau preached a sermon in keeping with the day, and said "that the Iroquois term 'Kannatha,' which was very restricted in its meaning, and only signified a collection of wigwams or huts--a village, we might say--had become corrupted into Canada, but now stood for dominion power and nationality. The population had grown into many millions, and the area was 3,750,000 square miles, or nearly as great as the entire continent of Europe. The mineral and coal deposits are almost inexhaustible, and the exports and imports the astonishment of the nations. "The growth of our cities is simply wonderful. Winnipeg has doubled its population in five years; Calgary has nearly trebled the number of its citizens in the same period, while Montreal has become the New York of Canada. Truly the words of our text apply specially to us, 'He hath not dealt so with any nation, and as for his judgments we have not known them.'" Continuing, the speaker said: "The God who has so wondrously blessed us since 1867, when a confederation of our leading provinces took place, expects us to be rational and sane, and stand for unity and consolidation of languages and creeds, that Canada may show to the world what the brotherhood of man means and that the Saviour's teaching has been put into practice upon our ocean-girt shores. A large number of our people do not know what the term Canadian means. They will do well to remember that it takes in not only the people of old Ontario, but the people of the greater Canada beyond, with its diversity of speech and polity, and no responsible person would say or do anything that would not tend to weld together the different doctrines and tongues. If we are true to God and each other we will one day stand in the front rank of world powers, and our fleets, not of war, but of commerce, will ride upon every sea. The battle of the Sea of Japan or Corea proved that battleships were not worth the coal that steamed them, but our mercantile marine is of priceless value, for it carries our wares to every land and our commerce into the marts thereof and into every clime." Immediately upon the close of the sermon, Mr. Melvin, who had occupied a seat upon the platform, arose and said, "This is the best sermon to which I have ever listened; it is truly the teaching of a man who is saner and wiser than his fellows." Upon the utterance of these words the vast audience broke into thunders of applause, evidencing the fact that it was the sentiment of all. As the summer advanced, Mr. Devoau invited Mr. Melvin to take a trip to Ottawa with him, as he was going to visit his parents for a day. The invitation was accepted, and these two kindred spirits started off on an early train for Canada's beautiful capital, where they were met by Mr. Devoau, senior, who heartily welcomed the friend and colleague of his son. As they walked toward the home of the Devoau family, whom should they meet but the Right Hon. Sir Wilfrid Laurier, Prime Minister of Canada, who was out for a stroll, and with whom the elder Devoau was well acquainted. Both preachers were at once introduced to the Premier, who was very gracious and genial. Mr. Devoau said they were having a day's recreation after their recent teachings. Sir Wilfrid said: "I will not ask what those teachings were, as I am sure they were all right." Mr. Melvin said: "They were not exactly like those of the Scotchman, who was asked if his health was good, and he said, 'I am no verry weel the day, for last nicht I was teaching the bairnies doon at the hall hoo to vote.'" Said he, "We are not exactly teaching people how to vote, but we are trying to pound sin out of them." The Premier then made the hit of the day when he said, "Get all the sin out of them and they will vote right." After a splendid day, during which they visited the noble pile on Parliament Hill and had a sail in a steam launch on the majestic river, the pastors of the tabernacle returned to Carsville, where at the Young People's meeting the senior minister related their experiences while in Canada's beauty spot, as the capital city might be called. He told of meeting the Premier and of his friendliness and geniality. "This country," said he, "has had gentlemen in that position, and it has had statesmen for prime ministers, but it never so strikingly combined the two great qualities as in the person of him whose name will be engraven with a surpassing lustre upon the bead-roll of the nation, and the name will be that of the Right Hon. Sir Wilfrid Laurier." Mr. Melvin, who did not feel quite so strong recently, thought of seeking a much-needed rest in retirement for a time at least, now that his colleague was immensely popular, and could now handle the entire congregation, though it never was so large. However, just as he was preparing for this move an invitation came to him to enter upon higher educational work, which he at once accepted, saying that, he would still preach and teach, and would really have a larger field in which to do good, and the change of air and scene would be as good as a rest. The people of Carsville expressed much regret at the departure of one who was known as an admirable citizen as well as an able and effective minister. Mr. Melvin, however, always told them that he was leaving with them a man after his own heart. Before the day of his leave-taking a farewell banquet was tendered him, at which were appreciative after-dinner speeches, the chair being occupied by Rev. Mr. Devoau, informally. Abraham Thompson, Esq., senior member of the Board, when called upon, said: "I am grieved at the departure of one who has been everything that I could wish--broad-minded, sympathetic, and scholarly--one in whom all could alike trust, ever finding in him a wise counsellor and a safe guide; a man of splendid mental balance, of unusual wisdom. To say that I endorse his teachings is not enough; I heartily endorse all of it, and pray that the Great Head of the Church will bless and keep our mutual friend, together with his much appreciated partner, unto their journey's end." The next called upon was Thomas Edwards, the leading merchant in the place. He was shrewd in business and a keen discerner of men. He said: "Though I am not on the same side of politics as Mr. Melvin, yet in the main I think his teachings are sound and the product of a sane mind. Personally, I have learned to respect him. I will, like one who has preceded me, go farther and say I have learned to love him, and wish him and his godspeed in a ministry which has been a blessing to my whole house." The next official was Edmund Garvin, general manager of the foundry, and a man of intense perception. Said he: "I have noticed that our worthy senior pastor, whose removal I deeply regret, always stood for unification in the home and independence, and not only there, but in the church and nation, and I may say his sentiment is mine. I, like him, am no hanger-on--only poltroons are that--and no man in his right senses would be anything but a brother to all the races and creeds in our country, and in all his utterances our clerical friend has proven himself not only wise as a serpent, but also a true Christ man. I wish him and his amiable wife great happiness and success in future life." The chairman now saw that as the time was getting late they must close, and said in a few closing words that his colleague had endeared himself to him, and had done more for him than he could ever repay. "I, like yourselves, regret his departure, but feel that he is going into a field of great usefulness, and he doubted not that he would be happy and prosperous." Shortly after Rev. Mr. Melvin's departure old Uncle Reynolds, as he was called, was struck by a pilot engine at the station, and so seriously injured that he was taken home in the ambulance. He was the most saintly man in the tabernacle, and Rev. Mr. Devoau, now in full charge, was sent for. His practiced eye at once told him that the old man's hour had almost come. Stooping down he said, "Uncle, how is it with your soul?" and opening his weary eyes the aged veteran said, "It is well; it is well." Talking for a moment or two with his pastor he said: "Our dear Bro. Melvin is gone from us, but, oh, how precious are his teachings! As the result of them my feet are on the Rock of Ages--the rock of Christ--and I have long since found out that 'all other ground,' as the sacred bard says, 'is sinking sand.'" Coming back late in the evening Mr. Devoau said, "Uncle, is there light in the valley?" and the dying man raised his feeble hand and blessed his pastor, and whispered to him that he had already been a blessing to many and the people loved him. Then he said: "Oh, yes, the valley is bathed in light; for He has said, 'At evening time it shall be light.'" With these words trembling upon his lips the old man swept through the gates of paradise, a ransomed soul. Finished as was the course of this saintly man, yet the great world, as in all such cases, moved on, and with it the teaching of the new pastor of Mount Zion. Speaking to the young people some time after this, he said: "Let there be no misunderstanding concerning what I stand for, and what we all should stand for. I am for liberty of conscience, freedom and independence, along all lines, both religious and national, even to the granting of home rule to poor, old, long-suffering Ireland, which, by all means, it should have, and is justly entitled to in this twentieth century. "The question arises, How can we best qualify ourselves for the salvation of ourselves and fellows, and the working out of our destiny along general lines? I answer, by consecrating our ransomed powers to the great Arbiter of Destinies, who stands behind all forms and systems, but ever watchful of His own." At the conclusion of the address Mr. Henry, principal of the Public School, arose and said: "I beg that the Young People's Club will place upon record, and in letters of gold engrave and place amid the archives of the church, the admirable and fearless utterances of this evening." Mr. Henry was followed by one who, in the educational world, stood higher than he, namely, the head master of the Collegiate Institute in Carsville, who capped everything by saying, "'Pro bono publico,' and as well as being for the public good, though I am an independent in politics, I will say that the Rev. Mr. Devoau has the faculty of always saying the right thing, and his teachings are an inestimable boon to all classes in this place." In a few mouths after this the pastor of Mount Zion was honored with a degree from world-renowned Harvard, and his influence increased, and his ministry truly became one of reconciliation and power, until the ever-circling years at last brought near the Age of Gold. 
30482	----	The International Spy BEING THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR BY ALLEN UPWARD ("_Monsieur A. V._") AUTHOR OF "UNDERGROUND HISTORY," ETC. M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY CHICAGO NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, 1904, 1905, BY THE PEARSON PUBLISHING CO. COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY. _Entered at Stationers' Hall._ The International Spy. Made in U. S. A. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE PROLOGUE--THE TWO EMPRESSES 9 I. THE INSTRUCTIONS OF MONSIEUR V---- 17 II. THE PRINCESS Y----'S HINT 24 III. THE HEAD OF THE MANCHURIAN SYNDICATE 36 IV. THE CZAR'S AUTOGRAPH 45 V. A DINNER WITH THE ENEMY 54 VI. DRUGGED AND KIDNAPPED 63 VII. THE RACE FOR SIBERIA 71 VIII. THE CZAR'S MESSAGE 76 IX. THE BETROTHAL OF DELILAH 87 X. THE ANSWER OF THE MIKADO 96 XI. WHO SMOKED THE GREGORIDES BRAND 107 XII. THE SECRET SERVICE OF JAPAN 113 XIII. HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS 123 XIV. THE SUBMARINE MINE 130 XV. THE ADVISOR OF NICHOLAS II 139 XVI. A STRANGE CONFESSION 145 XVII. A SUPERNATURAL INCIDENT 159 XVIII. THE MYSTERY OF A WOMAN 169 XIX. THE SPIRIT OF MADAME BLAVATSKY 180 XX. THE DEVIL'S AUCTION 192 XXI. THE FUNERAL 199 XXII. A PERILOUS MOMENT 210 XXIII. A RESURRECTION AND A GHOST 217 XXIV. A SECRET EXECUTION 224 XXV. A CHANGE OF IDENTITY 233 XXVI. TRAPPED 240 XXVII. THE BALTIC FLEET 246 XXVIII. ON THE TRACK 256 XXIX. AN IMPERIAL FANATIC 264 XXX. THE STOLEN SUBMARINE 272 XXXI. THE KIEL CANAL 279 XXXII. THE DOGGER BANK 287 XXXIII. TRAFALGAR DAY 292 XXXIV. THE FAMILY STATUTE 300 EPILOGUE 308 The International Spy PROLOGUE[A] THE TWO EMPRESSES [Footnote A: The author desires to state that this history should be read as a work of imagination simply, and not as authentic.] "Look!" A fair, delicately-molded hand, on which glittered gems worth a raja's loyalty, was extended in the direction of the sea. Half a mile out, where the light ripples melted away into a blue and white haze upon the water, a small black smudge, like the back of a porpoise, seemed to be sliding along the surface. But it was not a porpoise, for out of it there rose a thin, black shaft, scarcely higher than a flag-staff, and from the top of this thin shaft there trickled a faint wreathing line of smoke, just visible against the background of sky and sea. "It is a submarine! What is it doing there?" The exclamation, followed by the question, came from the second, perhaps the fairer, of two women of gracious and beautiful presence, who were pacing, arm linked in arm, along a marble terrace overlooking a famous northern strait. The terrace on which they stood formed part of a stately palace, built by a king of the North who loved to retire in the summer time from his bustling capital, and gather his family around him in this romantic home. From here, as from a watch-tower, could be seen the fleets of empires, the crowded shipping of many a rich port and the humbler craft of the fisherman, passing and repassing all day long between the great inland sea of the North and the broad western ocean. Along this narrow channel had once swept the long ships of the Vikings, setting forth on those terrible raids which devastated half Europe and planted colonies in England and France and far-off Italy. But to-day the scene was a scene of peace. The martial glory of the Dane had departed. The royal castle that stood there as if to guard the strait had become a rendezvous of emperors and queens and princes, who took advantage of its quiet precincts to lay aside the pomp of rule, and perhaps to bind closer those alliances of sovereigns which serve to temper the fierce rivalries of their peoples. The pair who stood gazing, one with curiosity and wonder, the other with an interest of a more painful character, at the sinister object on the horizon, were imperial sisters. Born in the tiny sea kingdom, they had lived to wear the crowns of the greatest two realms the world has ever seen, two empires which between them covered half the surface of our planet, and included one-third of its inhabitants. But though sundered in interests they were not divided in affection. As they stood side by side, still linked together, it was evident that no common sympathy united them. The one who had been first to draw attention to the mysterious craft, and whose dress showed somber touches which spoke of widowhood, answered her sister's question: "I never see one of those vessels without a shudder. I have an instinct which warns me that they are destined to play a dangerous, perhaps a fatal, part in the future. What is that boat doing here, in Danish waters?--I do not know. But it can be here for no good. If a war ever broke out in which we were concerned, the Sound would be our first line of defense on the west. It would be mined, by us, perhaps; if not, by our enemy. Who can tell whether that submarine has not been sent out by some Power which is already plotting against peace, to explore the bed of the strait, with a view to laying down mines hereafter?" The other Empress listened with a grave countenance. "I hope your fears are not well founded. I can think of no Power that is ever likely to attack you. It is my nephew, or rather those who surround him, from whom the signal for war is likely to come, if it ever does come." The widowed Empress bowed her head. "You know what my hopes and wishes are," she answered. "If my son listened to me there would be no fear of his departing from the peaceful ways of my dear husband. But there are secret influences always at work, as stealthy in their nature as that very craft----" The speaker paused as she glanced 'round in search of the black streak and gray smoke-wreath which had attracted her notice a minute before. But she looked in vain. Like a phantom the submarine had disappeared, leaving no trace of its presence. The Empress uttered an ejaculation of dismay, which was echoed by her sister. "Where is it now? Where did it go? Has it sunk, or has it gone back to where it came from?" To these questions there could be no answer. The smooth waters glistened in the sunlight as merrily as if no threatening craft was gliding beneath the surface on some errand fraught with danger to the world. "Perhaps they saw they were observed, and dived under for concealment," suggested the second Empress. Her sister sighed gently. "I was telling you that that submarine was a type of the secret dangers which beset us. I know, beyond all doubt, that there are men in the innermost circle of the Court, men who have my son's ear, and can do almost what they like with him, who are at heart longing for a great war, and are always working underground to bring it about. And if they succeed, and we are taken unprepared by a stronger foe, there will be a revolution which may cost my son his throne, if not his life." There was a brief silence. Then the Empress who had listened to this declaration murmured in a low voice: "Heaven grant that the war is not one between you and us!" "Heaven grant it!" was the fervent reply. And then, after a moment's reflection, the widowed Empress added in an eager voice: "But we--cannot we do something to avert such a fearful calamity?" Her sister pressed her arm as though to assure her of sympathy. "Yes, yes," the other continued. "We can do much if we will. Though my son does not always take my advice, he has never yet refused to listen to me. And in moments of grave stress he sometimes consults me of his own accord. And I know that you, too, have influence. Your people worship you. Your husband----" The Western Empress interrupted gently: "I cannot play the part that you play. I do not claim the right to be consulted, or to give direct advice. Do not ask me to step outside my sphere. I can give information; I can be a channel sometimes between your Court and ours, a channel which you can trust as I fear you cannot always trust your ministers and diplomatic agents. More than that I should not like to promise." "But that is very much," was the grateful response. "That may be quite enough. Provided we can arrange a code by which I can always communicate with you safely and secretly, it may be possible to avert war at any time." "What do you propose?" "It is very simple. If any crisis comes about through no fault of my son's--if the party who are conspiring to make a war arrange some unexpected _coup_ which we could not foresee or prevent--and if I am sure that my son sincerely desires peace, I can send you a message--one word will be enough--which you can take as an assurance that we mean to put ourselves right with you, and to thwart the plotters." The Western Empress bowed her head. "I accept the mission. And the word--what shall it be?" The other glanced 'round the horizon once more, and then, bending her lips to her imperial sister's ear, whispered a single word. The two great women who had just exchanged a pledge for the peace of the world were moving slowly along the terrace again, when the Western sister said, thoughtfully, "I think I know another way to aid you." The Eastern Empress halted, and gazed at her with eagerness. "I know the difficulties that surround you," her sister pursued, "and that the greatest of them all is having no one in your service whom you can entirely and absolutely trust." "That is so," was the mournful admission. "Now I have heard of a man--I have never actually employed him myself, but I have heard of him from those who have, and they tell me he is incorruptible. In addition, he is a man who has never experienced the sensation of fear, and his abilities are so great that he has been called in to solve almost every problem of international politics that has arisen in recent years." "But this man--how can he be obtained?" "At present he is retained in our secret service. I must not conceal from you that he is partly a Pole by descent, and as such he has no love for your Empire. But if it were made clear to him that in serving you he was serving us, and defeating the designs of the anti-popular and despotic clique at your Court, I feel sure he would consent to place himself at your disposal." The Eastern Empress listened intently to her sister's words. At the close she said, "Thank you. I will try this man, if you can prevail on him to come to me. What is his name?" "I expect you must have heard of him already, It is----" "_Monsieur V----?_" The second Empress nodded. No more was said. The two imperial figures passed away along the terrace, silhouetted against the red and stormy sunset sky, like two ministering spirits of peace brooding over a battleground of blood. CHAPTER I THE INSTRUCTIONS OF MONSIEUR V---- The great monarch by whose gracious command I write this narrative has given me his permission to preface it with the following remarkable document: _Minute_: It is considered that it cannot but promote the cause of peace and good understanding between the British and Russian Governments if Monsieur V---- be authorized to relate in the columns of some publication enjoying a wide circulation, the steps by which he was enabled to throw light on the occurrences in the North Sea. _By the Cabinet._ In addition, I desire to state for the benefit of those who profess to see some impropriety in the introduction of real names into a narrative of this kind, that objections precisely similar to theirs were long ago raised, and long ago disposed of, in the case of Parliamentary reports, newspaper articles, society papers, and comic publications of all kinds; and, further, that I have never received the slightest intimation that my literary methods were displeasing to the illustrious personages whom my narratives are intended to honor. With this apology I may be permitted to proceed. On a certain day in the winter which preceded the outbreak of war between Russia and Japan, I received a summons to Buckingham Palace, London, to interview the Marquis of Bedale. I am unable to fix the precise date, as I have forsworn the dangerous practice of keeping a diary ever since the head of the French police convinced me that he had deciphered a code telegram of mine to the Emperor of Morocco. The Marquis and I were old friends, and, anticipating that I should find myself required to start immediately on some mission which might involve a long absence from my headquarters in Paris, I took my confidential secretary with me as far as the British capital, utilizing the time taken by the journey in instructing him how to deal with the various affairs I had in hand. I had just finished explaining to him the delicate character of the negotiation then pending between the new King of Servia and Prince Ferdinand of Bulgaria, when the train rolled into Charing Cross. Not wishing any one, however high in my confidence, to know too much of my movements, I ordered him to remain seated in the railway carriage, while I slipped out of the station and into the closed brougham for which I had telegraphed from Dover. I had said in the wire that I wished to be driven to a hotel in Piccadilly. It was not till I found myself in Cockspur Street that I pulled the check-string, and ordered the coachman to take me to Buckingham Palace. I mention these details in order to show that my precautions to insure secrecy are always of the most thorough character, so that, in fact, it would be quite impossible for any one to unveil my proceedings unless I voluntarily opened my lips. The instructions which I received from Lord Bedale were brief and to the point: "You are aware, of course, Monsieur V----, that there is a possibility of war breaking out before long between Russia and Japan." "It is more than a possibility, I am afraid, my lord. Things have gone so far that I do not believe it is any longer possible to avert war." His lordship appeared gravely concerned. "Do you tell me that it is too late for you to interfere with effect?" he demanded anxiously. "Even for me," I replied with firmness. Lord Bedale threw at me a glance almost imploring in its entreaty. "If you were to receive the most ample powers, the most liberal funds; if you were to be placed in direct communication with one of the most exalted personages in the Court of St Petersburg--would it still be impossible?" I shook my head. "Your lordship should have sent for me a fortnight ago. We have lost twelve days, that is to say, twelve battles." The Marquis of Bedale looked more and more distressed. "At least you can try?" he suggested. "I can try. But I am not omnipotent, my lord," I reminded him. He breathed a sigh of relief before going on to say: "But that is only the preliminary. Great Britain is bound to come to the assistance of Japan in certain contingencies." "In the event of her being attacked by a second Power," I observed. "Precisely. I rely on you to prevent that contingency arising." "That is a much easier matter, I confess." "Then you undertake to keep the war from extending to us?" "I undertake to keep a second Power from attacking Japan," I answered cautiously. Lord Bedale was quick to perceive my reservation. "But in that case we cannot be involved, surely?" he objected. "I cannot undertake to keep you from attacking Russia," I explained grimly. "But we should not dream of attacking her--without provocation," he returned, bewildered. "I fancy you will have a good deal of provocation," I retorted. "Why? What makes you think that?" he demanded. I suspected that Lord Bedale was either sounding me, or else that he had not been taken into the full confidence of those for whom he was acting. I responded evasively: "There are two personages in Europe, neither of whom will leave one stone unturned in the effort to involve you in war with Russia." "And they are?" Even as he put the question, Lord Bedale, as though acting unconsciously, raised one hand to his mustache, and gave it a pronounced upward twirl. "I see your lordship knows one of them," I remarked. "The other----" He bent forward eagerly. "Yes? The other?" "The other is a woman." "A woman?" He fell back in his chair in sheer surprise. "The other," I repeated in my most serious tone, "is a woman, perhaps the most formidable woman now living, not even excepting the Dowager Empress of China." "And her name?" "Her name would tell you nothing." "Still----" "If you really wish to hear it----" "I more than wish. I urge you." "Her name is the Princess Y----." Scarcely had the name of this dangerous and desperate woman passed my lips than I regretted having uttered it. Had I foreseen the perils to which I exposed myself by that single slip I might have hesitated in going on with my enterprise. As it was I determined to tell the Marquis of Bedale nothing more. "This business is too urgent to admit of a moment's unnecessary delay," I declared, rising to my feet. "If your lordship has no further instructions to give me, I will leave you." "One instant!" cried Lord Bedale. "On arriving in Petersburg you will go straight to report yourself to her majesty the Empress Dagmar." I bowed my head to conceal the expression which might have told his lordship that I intended to do nothing of the kind. "Your credentials," he added with a touch of theatricality, "will consist of a single word." "And that word?" I inquired. He handed me a sealed envelope. "I do not myself know it. It is written on a piece of paper inside that envelope, and I have to ask you to open the envelope, read the word, and then destroy the paper in my presence." I shrugged my shoulders as I proceeded to break the seal. But no sooner did my eyes fall on the word within, and above all on the handwriting in which that word was written, than I experienced a sensation of admiring pleasure. "Tell the writer, if you please, my lord, that I am grateful for this mark of confidence, which I shall endeavor to deserve." I rolled up the paper into a tiny pellet, swallowed it, and left the room and the Palace without uttering another word. CHAPTER II THE PRINCESS Y----'S HINT I never use the same stratagem more than once. It is to this rule that I attribute my success. On previous missions to Russia I assumed the disguises of a French banker, of the private secretary to Prince Napoleon, of an emissary from an Indian Maharaja, and of an Abyssinian Maduga. I now decided to go thither as an Englishman, or rather--for there is a distinction between the two--as a Little Englander. It appeared to me that no character could be more calculated to gain me the confidence of the Anglophobes of the Russian Court. I anticipated that they would smother me with attentions, and that from their hypocritical professions I should stand a good chance of learning what was actually in their minds. No sooner had I taken this decision, which was while the brougham was being driven along the Mall, than I gave the order "---- House." I was driven to the office of a well known review conducted by a journalist of boundless philanthropy and credulity. Mr. Place--as I will call him--was within, and I at once came to business. "I am a Peace Crusader," I announced. "I have devoted myself to the sacred cause of which you are the foremost champion. At present war is threatened in the Far East. I am going to Russia to persuade the war party to abandon their designs. I have come here to ask you for your aid and countenance in this pious enterprise." The editor gave me a doubtful glance. "If it is a question of financial aid," he said not very encouragingly, "I must refer you to the treasurer of the World's Peace League. I am afraid our friends----" "No, no," I interrupted him. "It is not a question of funds. I am a wealthy man, and if you need a subscription at any time you have only to apply to me. What I desire is your moral support, your valuable advice, and perhaps a few introductions to the friends of peace in the Russian capital." The editor's face brightened. "Of course!" he exclaimed in cordial tones. "I will support you with all my heart. I will write up your mission in the _Review_, and I will give you as many introductions as you need. What is your name, again?" "Sterling. Mr. Melchisadek Sterling." The philanthropist nodded and touched a bell on his table. "I will give you a letter," he said, as his secretary came in and seated herself at the typewriter, "to the noblest creature I have ever met, a woman of high birth and immense fortune who has devoted herself to the cause." And turning 'round in his chair he dictated to the attentive secretary: "_My dear Princess Y_----" It needed all that command over my features which it has taken me twenty years to acquire to conceal the emotion with which I heard this name. Less than half an hour had passed since I had warned Lord Bedale that the Princess would be the most formidable enemy in my path, and now, on the very threshold of my enterprise, her name confronted me like an omen. I need not repeat the highly colored phrases in which the unsuspecting philanthropist commended me to this artful and formidable woman as a fellow-worker in the holy cause of human brotherhood. Not content with this service, the editor wanted to arrange a meeting of his league or brotherhood, or whatever it was, to give me a public send-off. As I understood that the meeting would partake of a religious character I could not bring myself to accept the offer. In addition to the letter to the Princess Y----, he gave me another to a member of the staff of the Russian Embassy in London, a M. Gudonov. He also urged me to call upon a member of Parliament, a rising politician who is not unlikely to have a ministerial post in the next government, and who has made himself known as an apologist of the Czar's. But as I had good reason to know that this gentleman was by no means a disinterested dupe, like Mr. Place, I prudently left him alone. On going to the Russian Embassy to have my passport viséd I inquired for M. Gudonov. The moment he entered the room I recognized him as one of the most unscrupulous agents of the notorious Third Section, one of the gang who drugged and kidnapped poor Alexander of Bulgaria. My own disguise, it is hardly necessary to say, was impenetrable. This precious apostle of peace greeted me with unction, on the editor's introduction. "You are going to our country on a truly noble errand," he declared, with tears in his eyes. "We Russians have reason to feel grateful to worthy Englishmen like you, who can rise above national prejudices and do justice to the benevolent designs of the Czar and his advisers." "I hope that I may be instrumental in averting a great catastrophe," I said piously. "Even if you fail in preventing war," the Russian replied, "you will be able to tell your countrymen when you return, that it was due to the insane ambition of the heathen Japanese. It is the 'Yellow Peril,' my friend, to which that good Emperor William has drawn attention, from which we are trying to save Europe." I nodded my head as if well satisfied. "Whatever you and your friends in Petersburg tell me, I shall believe," I assured him. "I am convinced of the good intention of your Government." The Russian fairly grinned at this simplicity. "You cannot find a more trustworthy informant than the Princess Y----," he said gravely. "And just now she is in a position to know a very great deal." "How so?" I asked naturally--not that I doubted the statement. "The Princess has just been appointed a lady-in-waiting to her imperial majesty the Dowager Empress Dagmar." This was a serious blow. Knowing what I did of the past of Princess Y----, I felt that no ordinary pressure must have been brought to bear to secure her admission into the household of the Czaritza. And with what motive? It was a question to which there could be only one answer. The War Party had guessed or suspected that the Czar's mother was opposed to them, and they had resolved to place a spy on her actions. Inwardly thankful to Mr. Place for having been the means of procuring me this important information in advance, I received my passport and quitted the Embassy with the heartfelt congratulations of the ex-kidnapper. Forty-eight hours later I had crossed the Russian frontier, and my life was in the hands of the Princess. My first step on arriving in the capital of the North was to put up at the favorite hotel of English visitors. The coupons of a celebrated tourist agency were credentials in themselves, and I had not forgotten to provide myself with the three articles indispensable to the outfit of every traveling Briton--a guide book, a prayer book, and a bath sponge. At the risk of incurring the suspicions of the police agent stationed in the hotel, I mingled some hot water in the bath which I took on the first morning after my arrival. Then, having made my toilet and eaten the heavy breakfast provided for English visitors, I set out, suffering sadly from indigestion, to present my letter of introduction to the Princess. As this woman, the most brilliant recruit ever received into the Russian secret service, and a foe of whom I am not ashamed to confess that I felt some fear, has never been heard of by the public of Great Britain, I shall say a word concerning her. The Princess, whose Christian name was Sophia, was the daughter of a boyar of Little Russia. Her extraordinary beauty, while she was still a very young girl, attracted the attention of the governor of the province, Prince Y----, who was one of the wealthiest nobles in the Empire, and a widower. He made proposals for her hand which were accepted by her father, without the girl herself being asked to express an opinion in the matter, and at the age when an English girl would be leaving home for a convent or "high-school," Sophia became the Governor's wife. Almost immediately the Prince resigned his government and went to live in his splendid palace on the Nevsky Prospect, in Petersburg. Before very long, society in the Russian capital was startled to hear of the sudden deaths in rapid succession of both the Prince's children by his former wife, a son and a daughter. Then, after a brief interval, followed the tragic death of the Prince himself, who was found in bed one morning by his valet, with his throat cut. The almost satanic beauty and fascination of the youthful Princess had made her from the very first one of the most conspicuous personages at the Imperial Court. These three deaths, following on the heels of one another, roused the most dreadful suspicions, and the Czar Alexander III. personally charged his minister of justice to see that the law was carried out. Accordingly the police took possession of the palace while the corpse of its late owner still lay where it had been found. The most searching investigations were made, the servants were questioned and threatened, and it was rumored that the widow herself was for a short time under arrest. Suddenly a great change took place. The police withdrew, professing themselves satisfied that no crime had been committed. The deaths of the son and daughter were put down to natural causes, and that of the Prince was pronounced a suicide, due to grief at the loss of his children. Some of the servants disappeared--it was said into Siberia--and in due course the Princess resumed her place in society and at Court, as though nothing were amiss. Nevertheless, from that hour, as I have every reason to know, her life was really that of a slave to the head of the secret police. She appeared to go about unfettered, and to revel in the enjoyment of every luxury; but her time, her actions, and the vast wealth bequeathed to her by her husband, were all at the disposal of her tyrant. Time after time, in half the capitals of Europe, but more especially, of course, in that of Russia, I had come on traces of this terrible woman, not less terrible if it were true that she was herself the most miserable victim of the system of which she formed part. But singularly enough, though I had heard so much of the Princess I had never actually found myself pitted against her. And, more singularly still, I had never met her. From this it will be gathered that I experienced a sensation of more than ordinary curiosity and even apprehension as I presented myself at the house in the Nevsky Prospect, and asked to be admitted to the presence of its mistress. "Her highness is on duty at the Palace to-day," I was told by the chamberlain who received me in the inner hall. "Her carriage is just ordered to take her there. However, I will take up your letter, and inquire when her highness can see you." I sat down in the hall, outwardly a calm, stolid Briton, but inwardly a wrestler, wound up to the highest pitch of excitement and impatient for the sight of his antagonist. To pass the time suitably, I took my guide-book out of my pocket and began to read. The book opened at Herr Baedaker's description of the gloomy fortress of the Schlüsselburg, the dreaded prison of the foes of the Czar. The description did not tend to soothe my nerves, conscious as I was that the woman I was about to meet could consign me to the most noisome dungeon in the fortress by merely lifting her little finger. I was just closing the book with an involuntary shudder when I heard a light, almost girlish, laugh from above. I looked hastily, and saw the woman I had come to measure myself against standing poised like a bird on the top of the grand staircase. As I rose hurriedly to my feet, taking in every detail of her superb yet delicate figure, her complexion like a blush-rose, her lustrous eyes--they were dark violet on a closer view--and the cloud of rippling gold that framed her brow, I was moved, yes, positively carried away for a moment, by a sentiment such as few women have been able to inspire in me. Perceiving, no doubt, that she had produced the desired impression, the Princess ran lightly down the stairs and came toward me holding out two tiny hands, the fingers of which were literally gloved in diamonds. "My friend! My noble Englishman!" she exclaimed in the purest French. "And since when have you known that dear Monsieur Place?" I checked myself on the point of replying, pretended to falter, and then muttered in the worst French I could devise on the spur of the moment: "_Parlez-vous Anglais, s'il vous plaît, Madame?_" The Princess shook her head reproachfully. "You speak French too well not to understand it, I suspect," she retorted in the same language. Then dropping it for English, marred only by a slight Slavonic accent, she repeated: "But tell me,--dear Mr. Place, he is a great friend of yours, I suppose?" "I can hardly claim the honor of his personal friendship," I replied, rather lamely. "But I have always known and admired him as a public man." "Ah! He is so good, is he not? So generous, so confiding, so great a friend of our dear Russia. You know Mr. ----?" The name she uttered was that of the politician referred to above. She slipped it out swiftly, with the action of a cat pouncing. I shook my head with an air of distress. "I am afraid I am not important enough to know such a great man as that," I said with affected humility. The Princess hastened to relieve my embarrassment. "What is that to us!" she exclaimed. "You are an Englishman, you are benevolent, upright, truthful, and you esteem our country. Such men are always welcome in Russia. The Czaritza is waiting for me; but you will come back and dine with me, if not to-night, then to-morrow, or the next day. I will send an invitation to your hotel. My friends shall call on you. You are staying at the----?" I mentioned the name of the hotel, murmuring my thanks. "That is nothing," the beautiful woman went on in the same eager strain. "I shall have good news for you when we meet again, believe me. Yes--" she lowered her voice almost to a whisper--"our dear Czar is going to take the negotiations into his own hands. So it is said. His majesty is determined to preserve peace. The odious intrigues of the War group will be defeated, I can assure you. You will not be disappointed, my dear Mr.----" she snatched the editor's letter from her muff and glanced at it--"Mr. Sterling, if I tell you that you are going to have your journey for nothing. You will have a good time in Petersburg, all the same. But believe me when I tell you so, your journey will fortunately be for nothing!" And with the repetition of these words, and another bright bow and look which dazzled my senses, the wonderful creature swept past me to where the chamberlain stood ready to hand her into her carriage. For nothing? CHAPTER III THE HEAD OF THE MANCHURIAN SYNDICATE No reader can have failed to notice one remarkable point in the interview between the Princess Y---- and myself. I refer of course to her invitation to me to dine with her in the course of a day or two. Unless the etiquette of the Russian Court differed greatly from that of most others in Europe, it would be most indecorous for a lady-in-waiting, during her turn of service, to give entertainments at her private house. I felt certain that this invitation concealed some trap, but I puzzled myself uselessly in trying to guess what it could be. In the meantime I did not neglect certain other friends of mine in the city on the Neva, from whom I had some hope of receiving assistance. Although I have never gone so far as to enroll myself as an active Nihilist, I am what is known as an Auxiliary. In other words, without being under the orders of the great secret committee which wages underground war with the Russian Government, I have sometimes rendered it voluntary services, and I have at all times the privilege of communicating with it, and exchanging information. While waiting for the next move on the part of the Princess, therefore, I decided to get in touch with the revolutionists. I made my way on foot to a certain tavern situated near the port, and chiefly patronized by German and Scandinavian sailors. The host of the Angel Gabriel, as the house was called, was a Nihilist of old standing, and one of their most useful agents for introducing forbidden literature into the empire. Printed mostly in London, in a suburb called Walworth, the revolutionary tracts are shipped to Bergen or Lubeck, and brought thence by these sailors concealed in their bedding. At night, after the customs officers have departed, a boat with a false keel puts off from a quay higher up the Neva, and passes down the river to where the newly arrived ship is lying; the packages are dropped overboard as it drifts past the side and hidden under the bottom boards; and then the boat returns up the river, where its cargo is transferred to the cellars of the tavern. The host, a namesake of the Viceroy of Manchuria, was serving in the bar when I came in. I called for a glass of vodka, and in doing so made the sign announcing myself as an Auxiliary. Alexieff said nothing in reply, but the sailors lounging in the bar began to finish off their drinks and saunter out one by one, till in a short time the place was empty. "Well?" said the tavern-keeper, as soon as we were alone. It was not my first visit to the Angel Gabriel, and I lost no time in convincing Alexieff of my identity. As soon as he recognized me, I said:-- "You know the Princess Y----?" The expression of rage and fear which convulsed his features was a sufficient answer. "You know, moreover, that she is at present working her hardest to bring about a war between Russia and Japan, with the hope of ultimately involving Great Britain?" He nodded sullenly. "How does that affect your friends?" I asked cautiously. Something in the man's face warned me not to show my own hand just then. "We hate her, of course," he said grudgingly, "but just now we have received orders that she is not to be interfered with." I drew a deep breath. "Then you regard this war----?" "We regard it as the beginning of the revolution," he answered. "We know that the Empire is utterly unprepared. The Viceroy Alexieff is a vain boaster. Port Arthur is not provisioned. The Navy is rotten. The Army cannot be recruited except by force. The taxes are already excessive and cannot be increased. In short, we look forward to see the autocracy humiliated. The moment its prestige is gone, and the moujik feels the pinch of famine, our chance will come." I saw that I had come to the wrong quarter for assistance. "Then you will do nothing against this woman at present?" I remarked, anxious to leave the impression that she was the only object of my concern. "No. At least not until war is definitely declared. After that I cannot say." "And you think the war sure to come?" "We are certain of it. One of our most trusted members is on the board of the Manchurian Syndicate." "The Syndicate which has obtained the concessions in Korea?" "Against which Japan has protested, yes." I felt the full force of this announcement, having watched the proceedings of the Syndicate for some months for reasons of my own. Every student of modern history has remarked the fact that all recent wars have been promoted by great combinations of capitalists. The causes which formerly led to war between nation and nation have ceased to operate. Causes, or at least pretexts, for war continue to occur, but whether they are followed up depends mainly on commercial considerations. A distant Government is oppressing its subjects, it may be in Turkey, it may be in Cuba, it may be in Africa. No matter, some great Power suddenly discovers it is interested; the drums are beaten, the flag is unfurled, and armies are launched on their path. The next year, perhaps, the same Power sees its own subjects massacred wantonly off its own coasts by a foreign fleet. Nothing happens; a few speeches are made, and the whole incident is referred to arbitration, and forgotten. It is the consideration of money which decides between peace and war. Perceiving it was useless to ask any assistance of the Nihilists in my forlorn enterprise, I returned sadly to my hotel. Hardly had I finished the immense lunch on which I was compelled to gorge myself, when a waiter brought me a card, the name on which gave me an electric shock. "_M. Petrovitch._" Every one has heard of this man, the promoter of the Manchurian Syndicate, and, if report spoke truly, the possessor of an influence over the young Czar which could be attributed only to some occult art. I could not doubt that this powerful personage had been instigated to call on me by the Princess Y----. What then? Was it likely that she would have sent the most influential man in the imperial circle to wait upon a traveling fanatic, a visionary humanitarian from Exeter Hall? Impossible! Somehow something must have leaked out to rouse the suspicions of this astute plotter, and make her guess that I was not what I seemed. It was with the sensations of a man struggling in the meshes of an invisible net that I saw M. Petrovitch enter the room. The celebrated wire-puller, whose name was familiar to every statesman and stock-broker in Europe, had an appearance very unlike his reputation. He was the court dandy personified. Every detail of his dress was elaborated to the point of effeminacy. His hands were like a girl's, his long hair was curled and scented, he walked with a limp and spoke with a lisp, removing a gold-tipped cigarette from his well-displayed teeth. As the smoke of the cigarette drifted toward me, I was conscious of an acute, but imperfect, twinge of memory. The sense of smell, though the most neglected, is the most reliable sense with which we are furnished. I could not be mistaken in thinking I had smelt tobacco like that before. "I have come to see you without losing a moment, Mr. Sterling," he said in very good English. "My good friend Madame Y---- sent me a note from the Palace to beg me to show you every attention. It is too bad that an ambassador of peace--a friend of that great and good man, Place, should be staying in a hotel, while hundreds of Russians would be delighted to welcome him as their guest. My house is a poor one, it is true, and I am hardly of high enough rank, still----" The intriguer was asking me to transfer myself to his roof, to become his prisoner, in effect. "I cannot thank you enough," I responded, "but I am not going to stay. The Princess has convinced me that the war-cloud will blow over, and I think of going on to Constantinople to intercede with the Sultan on behalf of the Armenians." "A noble idea," M. Petrovitch responded warmly. "What would the world do without such men as you? But at all events you will dine with me before you go?" It was the second invitation to dinner I had received that day. But, after all, I could hardly suspect a trap in everything. "Do you share the hopes of the Princess?" I asked M. Petrovitch, after thanking him for his hospitality. The syndicate-monger nodded. "I have been working night and day for peace," he declared impudently, "and I think I may claim that I have done some good. The Japanese are seeking for an excuse to attack us, but they will not get it." "The Manchurian Syndicate?" I ventured to hint, rising to go to the bell. "The Syndicate is wholly in favor of peace," he assured me, watching my movement with evident curiosity. "We require it, in fact, to develop our mines, our timber concessions, our----" A waiter entered in response to my ring. "Bring me some cigarettes--your best," I ordered him. As the man retreated it was borne in on my guest that he had been guilty of smoking in my room without offering me his case. "A thousand pardons!" he exclaimed. "Won't you try one of mine?" I took a cigarette from the case he held out, turned it between my fingers, and lit it from the end farthest from the maker's imprint. "If I am satisfied that all danger is removed I should be inclined to apply for some shares in your undertaking," I said, giving the promoter a meaning look. From the expression in his eyes it was evident that this precious scoundrel was ready to sell Czar, Russia and fellow-promoters all together. While he was struggling between his natural greed and his suspicion the waiter reentered with some boxes of cigarettes. I smelt the tobacco of each and made my choice, at the same time pitching the half-smoked cigarette given to me by M. Petrovitch into the fireplace, among the ashes. "Your tobacco is a little too strong for me," I remarked by way of excuse. But the Russian was wrapped up in the thought of the bribe at which I had just hinted. "I shall bear in mind what you say," he declared, as he rose. "Depend upon it, if it is possible for me to meet your wishes, I shall be happy to do so." I saw him go off, like a fish with the bait in its mouth. Directly the door closed behind him I sprang to the fireplace, rescued the still burning cigarette and quenched it, and then, carefully brushing away the dust, read the maker's brand once more. An hour later simultaneous messages were speeding over the wires to my correspondents in London, Amsterdam and Hamburg: Ascertain what becomes of all cigarettes made by Gregorides; brand, Crown Aa. CHAPTER IV THE CZAR'S AUTOGRAPH The next morning at breakfast I found the two invitations already promised. That of the head of the Manchurian Syndicate was for the same night. Resolved not to remain in the dark any longer as to the reason for this apparent breach of etiquette, I decided to do what the Marquis of Bedale had suggested, namely, approach the Dowager Empress in person. Well accustomed to the obstacles which beset access to royalty, I drove to the Palace in a richly appointed carriage from the best livery stable in Petersburg, and sent in my card to the chamberlain by an equerry. "I have a message to the Czaritza which I am instructed to give to her majesty in person," I told him. "Be good enough to let her know that the messenger from the Queen of England has arrived." He went out of the room, and at the end of ten minutes the door opened again and admitted--the Princess Y----! Overpowered by this unlucky accident, as I at first supposed it to be, I rose to my feet, muttering some vague phrase of courtesy. But the Princess soon showed me that the meeting did not take her by surprise. "So you have a message for my dear mistress?" she cried in an accent of gay reproach. "And you never breathed a word of it to me. Mr. Sterling, I shall begin to think you are a conspirator. _How_ long did you say you had known that good Mr. Place? But I am talking while her majesty is waiting. Have you any password by which the Czaritza will know whom you come from?" "I can tell that only to her majesty, I am afraid," I answered guardedly. "I am in her majesty's confidence." And bringing her exquisite face so near to mine that I was oppressed by the scent of the tuberoses in her bosom, she whispered three syllables in my ear. Dismayed by this proof of the fatal progress the dangerous police agent had already made, I could only admit by a silent bow that the password was correct. "Then come with me, Mr. Sterling," the Princess said with what sounded like a malicious accent on the name. The reception which I met from the Dowager Empress was gracious in the extreme. I need not recount all that passed. Her imperial majesty repeated with evident sincerity the assurances which had already been given me in a different spirit by the two arch-intriguers. "There will be no war. The Czar has personally intervened. He has taken the negotiations out of the hands of Count Lamsdorff, and written an autograph letter to the Mikado which will put an end to the crisis." I listened with a distrust which I could not wholly conceal. "I trust his majesty has not intervened too late," I said respectfully, my mind bent on framing some excuse to get rid of the listener. "According to the newspapers the patience of the Japanese is nearly exhausted." "No more time will be lost," the Czaritza responded. "The messenger leaves Petersburg to-night with the Czar's letter." I stole a cautious glance in the direction of the Princess Y----. She was breathing deeply, her eyes fixed on the Czaritza's lips, and her hands tightly clenched. I put on an air of great relief. "In that case, your majesty, I have no more to do in Petersburg. I will wire the good news to Lord Bedale, and return to England to-morrow or the next day. I beg your pardon, Princess!" I pretended to exclaim by a sudden afterthought, "_after_ the next day." And turning once more to the mother of the Czar, I explained: "The Princess has honored me with an invitation to dinner." The Dowager Empress glanced at her attendant in evident surprise. "I must implore your pardon, Madam," the Princess stammered, in real confusion. "I am aware I ought to have solicited your leave in the first place, but knowing that this gentleman came from----" She broke off, fairly unable to meet the questioning gaze of her imperial mistress. I pretended to come to her relief. "I have a private message," I said to the Empress. "You may leave us, Princess," the Empress said coldly. As soon as the door had closed on her, I gave a warning look at the Czaritza. "That woman, Madam, is the most dangerous agent in the secret service of your Empire." I trusted to the little scene I had just contrived to prepare the mind of the Czaritza for this intimation. But she received it as a matter of course. "Sophia Y---- has been all that you say, Monsieur V----. I am well acquainted with her history. The poor thing has been a victim of the most fiendish cruelty on the part of the Minister of Police, for years. At last, unable to bear her position any longer, she appealed to me. She told me her harrowing story, and implored me to receive her, and secure her admission to a convent. I investigated the case thoroughly." "Your majesty will pardon me, I am sure, if I say that as a man with some experience of intrigue, I thoroughly distrust that woman's sincerity. She is intimate with M. Petrovitch, to my knowledge." "But M. Petrovitch is also on the side of peace, so I am assured." I began to despair. "You will believe me, or disbelieve me as your majesty pleases. But I am accustomed to work for those who honor me with their entire confidence. If the Princess Y---- is to be taken into the secret of my work on your majesty's behalf, I must respectfully ask to be released." As I offered her majesty this alternative in a firm voice, I was inwardly trembling. On the reply hung, perhaps, the fate of two continents. But the Dowager Empress did not hesitate. "What you stipulate for shall be done, Monsieur V----. I am too well aware of the value of your services, and the claims you have on the confidence of your employers, to dispute your conditions." "The messenger who is starting to-night--does the Princess know who he is?" "I believe so. It is no secret. The messenger is Colonel Menken." "In that case he will never reach Tokio." Her majesty could not suppress a look of horror. "What do you advise?" she demanded tremulously. "His majesty the Czar must at once write a duplicate of the despatch, unknown to any living soul but your majesty, and that despatch must be placed by you in my hands." The Dowager Empress gazed at me for a moment in consternation. But the soundness of the plan I had proposed quickly made itself manifest to her. "You are right, Monsieur V----," her majesty said approvingly. "I will communicate with the Czar without delay. By what time do you want the despatch?" "In time to catch the Siberian express to-night, if your majesty pleases. I purpose to travel by the same train as Colonel Menken--it is possible I may be able to avert a tragedy. "And since your majesty has told me that the Princess Y---- is aware of the Colonel's errand, let me venture to urge you most strongly not to let her out of your sight on any pretense until he is safely on his way." I need not go into the details of the further arrangements made with a view to my receiving the duplicate despatch in secrecy. I came away from the Palace fully realizing the serious nature of my undertaking. I understood now all that had worried me in the proceedings of the Princess. It was clear to me that Lord Bedale, or the personage on whose behalf he instructed me, had wired to the Dowager Empress, notifying her majesty of my coming, and that she had shown the message to her lady-in-waiting. Blaming myself bitterly for not having impressed the necessity for caution on the Marquis, I at once set about providing myself with a more effectual disguise. It is a proverb on the lips of every moujik in Petersburg that all Russia obeys the Czar, and the Czar obeys the Tchin. Ever since the bureaucracy deliberately allowed Alexander II. to be assassinated by the Nihilists out of anger at his reforming tendencies, the Russian monarchs have felt more real dread of their own police than of the revolutionists. The _Tchin_, the universally-pervading body of officials, who run the autocracy to fill their pockets, and indulge their vile propensities at the expense of the governed, is as omnipotent as it is corrupt. Everywhere in that vast Empire the word of the Tchinovink is law--and there is no other law except his word. Taking the bull by the horns, I went straight to the Central Police Bureau of the capital, and asked to see a certain superintendent named Rostoy. To this man, with whom I had had some dealings on a previous occasion, and whose character was well understood by me, I explained that I had accepted a mission from a friendly Power to travel along the Siberian Railway and report on its capacity to keep the Army of Manchuria supplied with food and ammunition in the event of war. He expressed no surprise when I told him it was essential that I should leave Petersburg that night, and accordingly it did not take us long to come to terms. The service which I required of him was, of course, a fresh passport, with a complete disguise which would enable me to pass anywhere along the railway or in Manchuria without being detected or interfered with by the agents of the Government. After some discussion we decided that the safest plan would be for me to travel in the character of a Russian police officer charged with the detection of the train thieves and card-sharpers who abound on every great route of travel. I could think of no part which would serve better to enable me to watch over the safety of the Czar's envoy without exciting suspicion. I placed in Rostoy's hands the first instalment of a heavy bribe, and arranged to return an hour before the departure of the Moscow express to carry out my transformation. It was only as I left his office that I remembered my unlucky engagement to dine that very night with the head of the Manchurian Syndicate. I perceived that these hospitalities were well devised checks on my movements, and it was with something of a shock that I realized that when I went to dinner that evening with the most active promoter of the war I should be carrying the Czar's peace despatch in my pocket! If the enemies of peace had foreseen every step that I was to take in the discharge of my mission, their measures could not have been more skilfully arranged. And as this reflection occurred to me I turned my head nervously, and remarked a man dressed like a hotel porter lounging carelessly in my track. CHAPTER V A DINNER WITH THE ENEMY Readers of that prince of romancers, Poe, will recollect a celebrated story in which he describes the device employed by a man of uncommon shrewdness to conceal a stolen letter from the perquisitions of the police, and the elaborate argument by which the writer proves that the highest art of concealment is to thrust the object to be hidden under the very nose of the searcher. But that argument is one of the many mystifications in which the weird genius of Poe delighted. It is easy to see, in short, that the theory was invented to suit the story, and not the story to suit the theory. I now had before me the practical problem of concealing a document of surpassing importance, from enemies who were already on my scent, and keeping it concealed during a journey of some thousands of miles. The ordinary hiding-places of valuable papers, such as the lining of clothes, or a false bottom to a trunk, I dismissed without serious consideration. My luggage would probably be stolen, and I might be drugged long before I reached Dalny. The problem was all the more difficult for me because I have generally made it a rule to avoid charging myself with written instructions. I am sufficiently well known by reputation to most European sovereigns to be able to dispense with ordinary credentials. But in approaching the Mikado of Japan, a ruler to whom I was personally unknown, it was clearly necessary for me to have something in writing from the Russian Emperor. All at once an idea flashed on my mind, so simple, and yet so incapable of detection (as it seemed to me), that I almost smiled in the face of the man who was dogging my steps along the street, no doubt under instructions from the War Syndicate. That afternoon I was closeted with the Emperor of All the Russias in his private cabinet for nearly an hour. It is not my habit to repeat details of private conversations, when they are not required to illustrate the progress of public events, and therefore I will say merely that the Czar was evidently in earnest in his desire to avoid war, but greatly hampered and bewildered by the difficult representations made to him by, or on behalf of, those to whose interests war was essential. It was melancholy to see the destinies of half Europe and Asia, and the lives of scores of thousands of brave men, hanging on the will of an irresolute young man, depressed by the consciousness of his own infirmity, and desperately seeking for some stronger mind on which to lean. Had I not been placed by my Polish sentiment in a position of antagonism to the Czardom, perhaps--but it is useless to indulge in these reflections. One thing in the course of the interview struck me as having great significance for the future. I found that his majesty, who had entertained at one time a strong dislike of the German Emperor, a dislike not untinged with jealousy, had now completely altered his opinion. He spoke to me of Wilhelm II. in terms of highest praise, declared that he was under the greatest obligations to him for useful warnings and advice, said that he believed he had no truer or more zealous friend. When I drove to the house of M. Petrovitch that evening I carried, carefully sewn between the inner and outer folds of my well-starched shirt-front, where no sound of crackling would excite remark, a sheet of thin note-paper covered in a very small handwriting with the text of the Czar's letter to the ruler of Japan. M. Petrovitch was not alone. Around his hospitable board he had gathered some of the highest and proudest personages of the Russian Court, including the Grand Duke Staniolanus, generally believed to be the heart and soul of the War Party. His imperial highness was well-known to be a desperate gambler, up to the neck in debts contracted at the card-table, and bent on recouping himself out of the wealth of Korea and Manchuria. I was duly presented to this royal personage (whom I had met once before under widely different circumstances) in the character of a Peace Crusader, an emissary of the philanthropists of Great Britain. At the dinner-table, where I found myself placed on my host's left hand, while the Grand Duke was on his right, the conversation continued to be in the same strain. That Petrovitch believed me to be an English peace fanatic I did not believe any longer, but I could not tell if any, or how many, of the others were in his confidence. As soon as the solid part of the feast was disposed of, Petrovitch rose to his feet, and after a bow to the Grand Duke, launched out into a formal speech proposing my health. He commenced with the usual professions in favor of peace, spoke of the desire felt by all Russians to preserve the friendship of England, eulogized the work done by my friend the editor, and by other less disinterested friends of Russia in London, and wound up by asking all the company to give me a cordial welcome, and to send a message of congratulation and good-will to the British public. Knowing as I did, that the man was a consummate rogue, who had probably invited me to his house in order to keep me under observation, and possibly to prevent my getting scent of the intrigues pursued by his friend and ally, Princess Y----, I was still at a loss to understand the reason for this performance. I have learned since that an account of the proceedings, with abstracts from this hypocritical speech, was telegraphed to England, and actually found its way into some of the newspapers under the heading, "Peace Demonstration in St. Petersburg: No Russian Wants War." There was one of the guests, however, who made no pretense of listening with pleasure to the smooth speech of M. Petrovitch. This was a dark young man of about thirty, in a naval uniform. He sat scowling while his host spoke, and barely lifted his glass from the table at the conclusion. A minute or two later I took an opportunity to ask the promoter the name of this ungracious officer. "That?" my host exclaimed, looking 'round the table, "Oh, that is Captain Vassileffsky, one of our most distinguished sailors. He is a naval aide-de-camp to the Czar." I made a note of his name and face, being warned by a presentiment which I could not resist that I should come across him again. The champagne now began to flow freely, and as it flowed the tongues of many of the company were unloosed by degrees. From the subject of peace the conversation passed rapidly to the possibilities of war, and the Japanese were spoken of in a way that plainly showed me how little those present understood the resolution and resources of the Island Empire. "The Japanese dare not fire the first shot and, since we will not, there will be no war," declared my left-hand neighbor. "The war will be fought in Japan, not in Manchuria," affirmed the Grand Duke with a condescending air. "It will be a case of the Boers over again. They may give us some trouble, but we shall annex their country." M. Petrovitch gave me a glance of alarm. "Russia does not wish to add to her territory," he put in; "but we may find it necessary to leave a few troops in Tokio to maintain order, while we pursue our civilizing mission." I need not recount the other remarks, equally arrogant. Abstemious by habit, I had a particular reason for refraining from taking much wine on this night. It was already past nine o'clock, the train for Moscow, which connected there with the Siberian express, started at midnight, and I had to be at the police bureau by eleven at the latest to make the changes necessary for my disguise. I therefore allowed my glass to remain full, merely touching it with my lips occasionally when my host pressed me to drink. M. Petrovitch did not openly notice my abstinence, but presently I heard him give an order to the butler who waited behind his chair. The butler turned to the sideboard for a moment, and then came forward bearing a silver tray on which stood a flagon of cut-glass and silver with a number of exquisite little silver cups like egg-shells. "You will not refuse to taste our Russian national beverage, Mr. Sterling," the head of the War Syndicate said persuasively, as the butler began filling the tiny cups. It was a challenge which I could not refuse without rudeness, though it struck me as rather out of place that the vodka should be offered to me before to the imperial guest on my host's right. The butler filled two cups, M. Petrovitch taking the second from the tray as I lifted the first to my lips. "You know our custom," the financier exclaimed smilingly. "No heeltaps!" He lifted his own cup with a brave air, and I tossed off the contents of my own without stopping. As the fiery liquor ran down my throat I was conscious of something in its taste which was unlike the flavor of any vodka I had ever drunk before. But this circumstance aroused no suspicion in my mind. I confess that it never occurred to me that any one could be daring enough to employ so crude and dangerous a device as a drugged draft at a quasi-public banquet, given to an English peace emissary, with a member of the imperial family sitting at the board. I was undeceived the next moment. Petrovitch, as soon as he saw that my cup had been emptied, sat down his own untasted, and, with a well-acted movement of surprise and regret, turned to the Grand Duke. "I implore your pardon, sir. I did not ask if you would not honor me by taking the first cup!" The Grand Duke, whom I readily acquitted of any share in the other's design, shrugged his shoulders with an indifferent air. "If you wish your friends to drink vodka, you should not put champagne like this before us," he said laughing. Petrovitch said something in reply; he turned and scolded the butler as well, I fancy. But my brain was becoming confused. I had just sufficient command of my faculties left to feign ignorance of the true situation. "I am feeling a little faint. That _pâté_"--I contrived to murmur. And then I heard Captain Vassileffsky cry out in an alarm that was unmistakably genuine--"Look out for the Englishman! He is swooning"--and I knew no more. CHAPTER VI DRUGGED AND KIDNAPPED My first thought, as my senses began to come back to me, was of the train which was due to leave Petersburg for Moscow at midnight. I clutched at my watch, and drew it forth. The hands marked the time as 9.25. Apparently I had not been unconscious for more than a few seconds. My second glance assured me that my clothes were not disarranged. My shirt-front, concealing the Czar's autograph letter, was exactly as when I sat down to the table. Only after satisfying myself on these two points did I begin to take in the rest of my surroundings. I was resting on a couch against the wall in the room where we had dined. My host, the head of the Manchuria Syndicate, was standing beside me, watching my recovery with a friendly and relieved expression, as though honestly glad to see me myself again. A servant, holding in his hand a bottle which appeared to contain sal volatile, was looking on from the foot of the bed, in an attitude of sympathetic attention. The other guests had left the room, and the state of the table, covered with half-filled glasses and hastily thrown down napkins, made it evident that they had cleared out of the way to give me a chance to come to. The cold air blowing over my forehead told me that a window had been opened. A Russian January is not favorable to much ventilation. As a rule the houses of the well-to-do are provided with double windows, which are kept hermetically sealed while the rooms are in use. The fact that the dining-room was still warm was sufficient proof that the window could not have been opened for more than the briefest time. It was a singular thing that, in spite of these assurances that my swoon had been an affair of moments only, I was seized by an overmastering desire to get away from the house immediately. I heard M. Petrovitch exclaim-- "Thank Heaven--you are better! I began to be afraid that your seizure was going to last. I must go and reassure my guests. The Grand Duke will be delighted to hear your are recovering. He was most distressed at the attack." I sat upright with an effort, and staggered to my feet. "I am ashamed to have given you so much trouble," I said. "I can't remember ever fainting like this before. Please make my excuses to his imperial highness and the rest of the company." "But what are you doing?" cried M. Petrovitch in dismay. "You must not attempt to move yet." "I shall be better in bed," I answered in a voice which I purposely strove to render as faint as possible. "If you will excuse me, I will go straight to my hotel." The promoter's brow wrinkled. I saw that he was trying to devise some pretext to detain me, and my anxiety to find myself clear of his house redoubled. "If you will do me a favor, I should be glad if you would let one of your servants come with me as far as the hotel," I said. "I am feeling rather giddy and weak." The secret chief of the War Party caught eagerly at the suggestion. It was no doubt exactly what he desired. "Mishka," he said, turning to the servant, and speaking in Russian, "this gentleman asks you to accompany him to his hotel, as he has not yet recovered. Take great care of him, and do not leave him until he is safe in his own bed." The man nodded, giving his master a look which said--I understand what you want me to do. Thanks to this request on my part, M. Petrovitch raised no further objection to my departure. I stumbled out of the room, pretending to cling to the servant's arm for support, and let him help me on with my furs, while the porter was summoning a sleigh. There was a hurried consultation in low tones between my host and the porter. Rather to my surprise the carriage, when it appeared, was a closed one, being a species of brougham on runners instead of wheels. I allowed myself to be carried down the steps like a child, and placed inside; the door was closed, with the windows carefully drawn up, and the jailer--for such he was to all intents and purposes--got on the box. The sleigh swept out of the courtyard and across the city. Directly it was in the street, I very softly lowered one of the windows and peered out. The streets seemed to me more deserted than usual at such an hour. I was idly wondering whether the imminence of war could account for this when I heard a church clock beginning to strike. Once--twice--the chimes rang out. And then, as I was preparing to close the window, they went on a third time--a fourth! I held my breath, and listened with straining ears, as the great notes boomed forth from the distant town across the silent streets and houses. One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight--nine--ten--ELEVEN! I understood at last. That drugged sleep had lasted an hour and a half, and before I came to myself my watch had been deliberately set back to the minute at which I lost consciousness, in order to prevent me from suspecting that I had been searched, or that there was anything wrong about the affair. Had I taken time for reflection I should probably have made up my mind to lose the Moscow express. In order to lull the suspicions of the conspirators, by making them believe I was their dupe, I should have let myself be taken to the hotel and put to bed in accordance with the kind instructions of my late host. In that case, no doubt, my watch would have been secretly put right again while I was asleep. But I could not bear the idea of all my carefully planned arrangements being upset. Above all things, I desired to keep up my prestige with the superintendent of police, Rostoy, who regarded me as an invincible being possessed of almost magical powers. At the moment when the clock was striking I ought to have been walking into his room in the bureau of the Third Section. Grinding my teeth with vexation, I very gently opened the door of the carriage, which was traveling noiselessly over the snow, and slipped out. I had taken care to ascertain that no onlooker was near. As soon as the sleigh was 'round the corner of the street I hailed a public conveyance and directed the driver to take me to the police office. I was only five minutes late in keeping my appointment. Detecting a look of slight surprise on the face of the superintendent, I apologized for keeping him waiting. "It is my habit to be punctual, even in trifling matters like this," I remarked carelessly. "But the fact is I have been drugged and kidnapped since I saw you, and it took me five minutes to dispose of the rascals." Rostoy stared at me with stupid incredulity. "You are joking, Monsieur V----, I suppose," he muttered. "But, however, since you have arrived, there is your disguise. You will find everything in the pockets complete, including a handkerchief marked with the initials of the name you have chosen." "Monsieur Rostoy, you are an able man, with whom it is pleasure to do business," I responded heartily. The Russian swelled with pride at this compliment. I hastily changed clothes, shifting nothing from my discarded costume except a cigarette case which I had filled with the hotel cigarettes. My inquiry as to the Gregorides brand smoked by M. Petrovitch had not yet been answered. "Surely you are not going to wear that linen shirt of yours right across Siberia!" exclaimed Rostoy, who never took his eyes off me. I shrugged my shoulders. "It is a whim of mine always to wear linen," I responded. "I am not a rheumatic subject. And, besides, I have no time to lose." The superintendent threw a regretful look at the flannel shirt he had provided for me. As soon as I had finished my preparations I handed a thick bundle of ruble notes to the superintendent. "As much more when I come back safe," was all I said. Rostoy snatched at his pay, his eyes sparkling with greed. "Good-by and a good journey!" he cried as I strode out. Once in the street, I had no difficulty in finding a sleigh, this time an open one, to convey me to the railway station. I glanced at my watch, which I had set by the church clock, and calculated that I should have a few minutes to spare. But I had not allowed for Russian ideas as to time. As the sleigh drew up at the great terminus, and I came in view of the station clock, I saw that it was on the stroke of midnight. Flinging the driver his fare I rushed toward the barrier. "Moscow!" I shouted to the railway official in charge. "The train has just left," was the crushing reply. CHAPTER VII THE RACE FOR SIBERIA The unnatural strain I had put on my strength, undermined as it had been by the drugged vodka, gave way under this depressing failure, and for an instant I seriously thought of abandoning my effort to catch the Czar's messenger. I could leave Colonel Menken to pursue his journey, taking care of himself as best he could, while I followed by a later train. But I had little thought of that, as to adopt such a course would be to abandon the gallant officer to his fate. Whatever the War Syndicate might or might not know or suspect about myself, there could be no doubt that they knew all there was to know about Menken, and that the Colonel would never be allowed to reach Dalny with his despatch, alive. "Show me the passenger list," I demanded sternly, determined to use to the full the advantages conferred on me by my uniform. The station inspector hastened to obey. He took me into the booking office, opened a volume, and there I read the name and destination of every passenger who had left for Moscow that night. It is by such precautions that the Russian police are enabled to control the Russian nation as the warders control the convicts in an English prison. At the very head of the list I read the name of Colonel Menken, passenger to Dalny, on his imperial majesty's service. It was incredible folly thus publicly to proclaim himself as an object of suspicion to the powerful clique engaged in thwarting the policy of their nominal ruler. I glanced my eye down the list in search of some name likely to be that of an emissary of the Syndicate. It was with something like a shock that I came upon the conspicuous entry-- "The Princess Y----, lady-in-waiting to H. I. M. the Dowager Empress, passenger to Port Arthur, on a visit to her uncle, commanding one of the forts." Stamping my foot angrily, in order to impress the railway official, I said-- "Order a pilot engine immediately to take me to Moscow. Tell the driver he is to overtake the express, and enter the Moscow station behind it." There was some demur, of course, and some delay. But I wore the livery of the dreaded Third Section, and my words were more powerful than if I had been the young man who wears the Russian crown. By dint of curses, threats, blows and an occasional ruble note, I got my way. Indeed, I managed things so well that the railway officials did not even ask me for my name. I showed them my official badge; but when they made their report in the morning they would only be able to say that an inspector of the Secret Police had ordered a pilot engine to take him to Moscow in pursuit of the midnight express. The impression which I was careful to convey, without putting it into words, was that I was on the track of an absconding Nihilist. Within half an hour of my arrival at the terminus a light but powerful locomotive drew up on the main line of rails, with everything in readiness for an immediate start. I leaped into the driver's cab, where I found the driver himself and two stokers hard at work increasing the head of steam, and gave the order to go. The driver touched the tap, the whistle rang out once, and the wheels began to revolve. Ten seconds later we were beyond the station lights and facing the four hundred miles of frozen plain that lay between us and Moscow. Every one has heard the story of this famous piece of road. The engineers of the line, accustomed to map out their routes in other countries with reference to the natural obstacles and the convenience of commerce, waited upon the great autocrat, Nicholas I., a very different man from his descendant, and asked him for instructions as to laying out the first railway in the Russian Empire. The Czar called for a map of his dominions, and then, taking a ruler in his hand, drew a straight line between the old and new capitals. And so the line has been made, a symbol to all who travel on it of the irresponsible might of the Russian Czardom. It was not till we were fairly on our way, and the speed had risen to something like fifty miles an hour, that I realized what I had done in entering on this furious race. I had never traveled on a detached engine before, and the sensation at first was quite unnerving. Unlike a motor car, in which the hand of the driver has to be perpetually on the steering-gear, and his eye perpetually on the alert, the pilot engine seemed to be flung forward like a missile, guided by its own velocity, and clinging to the endless rails with its wheels as with iron claws. With the rush as of wind, with the roar as of a cataract, with the rocking as of an earthquake, the throbbing thing of iron sprang and fled through the night. Hour after hour we rushed across the blinding desert of snow, in which nothing showed except the flying disk of light cast by the engine lamps, and the red and white balls of fire that seemed to start, alight, and go out again as we frantically dashed past some wayside station. As the speed increased the light pilot engine, not steadied by a long train of coaches, almost rose from the rails as it raced along. Over and over again I thanked my stars that there were no curves to be taken, and I blessed the memory of that famous ruler wielded by the hand of Nicholas I. Here and there, at some slight rise in the ground, the engine literally did leave the rails and skim through the air for a few yards, alighting with a jar that brought my teeth together like castanets, and rushing forward again. I clung to a small brass hand-rail, and strained my eyes through the darkness. I could not have sat down, even had there been a seat provided for me--the pace was too tremendous. I was tired and unwell, and a slight feeling of headache and sickness began to gain on me, engendered by the vibration of the engine, the smell of oil, and the fearful heat of the furnace. It was some hours since we had started, but it was still pitch dark, with the wintry blackness of a northern night. I leaned and gazed forward with dull eyes, when I was aware of two red sparks that did not grow and rush toward us as I expected. Were we slackening speed by any chance? I turned to the engine driver, and pointed with my hand. The grimy toiler nodded. Then making a trumpet of his hands he shouted above the rattle of the wheels-- "The rear-lights of the express!" CHAPTER VIII THE CZAR'S MESSENGER I drew out my watch and glanced at it by the light of the flaring stoke-hole. It was just half-past eight. The time taken up on the journey between Petersburg and Moscow varies greatly according to the state of the weather and the amount of snow on the line. But even in the summer the best trains are allowed twelve hours, while the slow ones take nearly twenty-four. The special Siberian express was timed to reach the ancient capital of the czars at ten o'clock in the morning, and we had overtaken it with rather more than an hour to spare. I ordered the driver to creep up gradually, but not to approach too near the hindmost coach of the train in front until Moscow was in sight. Obedient to my instructions, he slackened speed by degrees, till we were rolling along at the same rate as the express, with a space of three or four hundred yards between us. Presently a red flag was thrust out from a side window at the rear of the last coach and waved furiously. The driver of my engine responded with first a green and then a white signal, indication that there was no danger though caution was desirable. The express perceptibly quickened its speed, but of course without our allowing it to get farther ahead. At last the spires of the Kremlin, and the green copper domes gleamed out across the waste, and I nodded to the driver to close up. He managed the maneuver with the skill of an artist. Inch by inch we neared the guard's van in front, and our buffers were actually touching as the engine in front blew off steam and we slowed alongside the Moscow station. Before the wheels of the express had ceased to move I was out on the platform, and running up to the guard of the express. "I have come on the pilot engine from Petersburg," I told him hurriedly. "Tell no one of my arrival. Do not report the chase. If you are questioned, say that you have orders to say nothing. And now tell me which is the train for Dalny and Port Arthur, and when does it leave?" The guard, thoroughly cowed, promised implicit obedience. He showed me a long corridor train with handsome sleeping cars and dining saloons, which was drawn up ready at another platform. "That is the train which goes to Baikal," he told me. "If the ice on the lake will bear, rails may be laid right across it; if not, there will be sleighs to transport the passengers to a train on the other side. The train leaves at noon." I thanked him and strolled off down the platform, glancing into the carriages of the newly-arrived train as I passed in search of the Czar's messenger. I did not anticipate that any harm could have happened to him so soon after leaving Petersburg. The object of the conspirators would be defeated if Nicholas II. learned of any accident to his messenger in time to send another despatch. It was more likely, at least so I argued, that the Princess Y---- would accompany her victim across Siberia, gradually worming her way into his confidence, and that only at the last moment would she show her hand. It was with a slight start that I encountered the face of the fair emissary of M. Petrovitch, as she came to the door of her sleeping compartment and looked out. I was delighted to observe that this time she did not suspect me. In fact, she evidently mistook me for one of the ordinary station officials, for she gave me a haughty command: "Go and see if there is a telegram for the Princess Y----." Making a respectful salute I hastened off in the direction of the telegraph office. On the way I interrupted a man in uniform carrying an envelope in his hand. "For the Princess Y----?" I demanded. The man scowled at me and made as if to conceal the telegram. I saw that it was a case for a tip and handed him a ruble note, on which he promptly parted with his trust. I turned around, and as soon as the messenger had moved off, I tore open the envelope and read the message. Fortunately, it was not in cipher, the rules against any such use of the wires, except by the Government, being too strict. This is what I read: "Our friend, who is now an inspector, will join you at Moscow. Look out for him. He has left his luggage with us, but does not know it." Accident, which had hitherto opposed my designs, was favoring them at last. It was clear that Rostoy had betrayed me, and that Petrovitch had sent this wire to the Princess to put her on her guard. But what was the "luggage" which I was described as having left in the hands of M. Petrovitch? I thought I knew. Crumpling up the tell-tale message in my pocket, I darted into the telegraph office, and beckoned to the clerk in charge. "On his majesty's secret service," I breathed in his ear, drawing him on one side. I showed him my police badge, and added, "An envelope and telegram form, quick!" Overwhelmed by my imperative manner, he handed me the required articles. I hastily scribbled: "Our friend has parted with his luggage, though he does not know it. He has been unwell, but may follow you next week. To save trouble do not wire to us till you return." Slipping this into the envelope, I addressed it to the Princess, and hastened back to the carriage where I had left her. I found her fuming with impatience and scolding her maid, who looked on half awake. I handed her the bogus telegram with a cringing gesture. She snatched at it, tore off the cover and read, while I watched her furtively from under my lowered eyelashes. The first part of the message evidently gave her the greatest pleasure. The second part, it was equally evident, puzzled and annoyed her. "Fool! What is he afraid of now?" she muttered beneath her breath. She stood gnawing her rose-red lips for a moment--even a night passed in the train could not make her look less charming--and then turned to me. "That will do. No answer. Here, Marie, give this man a couple of rubles." I received the gratuity with a look of satisfaction which must have surprised the tired waiting maid. In reality I had scored a most important point. Thanks to my suppression of the first message and my addition to the second, I had completely cut off communication between the agent of the Syndicate and its head in Petersburg, for a time; while I had lulled the beautiful plotter into a false security, by which I was likely to benefit. My anxieties considerably lightened for the time being, I now renewed my search for Colonel Menken. The train from Petersburg had emptied by this time, so I moved across the station to where the luxurious Manchurian express was being boarded by its passengers. I got in at one end, and made my way slowly along the corridors, stepping over innumerable bags and other light articles. In a corner of the smoking car I came at last upon the man I sought. Colonel Menken was a young man for his rank, not over thirty, with a fine, soldierly figure, handsome face and rather dandified air. He wore a brilliant uniform, which looked like that of some crack regiment of Guards. A cigar was in his mouth, and he was making a little nest for himself with rugs and books and papers, and a box of choice Havanas. A superb despatch box, with silver mounts, was plainly marked with his initials, also in silver. I did not dare to choose a seat for myself in the same part of the train as the man whom I was anxious to guard. The oppressive powers wielded by the police of Russia are tolerated only on one condition, namely, that they are never abused to the disparagement of the social importance of the aristocracy. Bearing this in mind, I proceeded to the coach set aside for the servants of the rich passengers, and contrived to secure a place close to that occupied in the day-time by the maid of the Princess. Having more than an hour to spare, I now laid in a large stock of Turkish tobacco and cigarette papers, so as to have some means of beguiling the time on the long, wearisome run across Asia. I also bought a second-hand valise, and stocked it modestly with clothes. Finally I made a hearty breakfast in the station restaurant, and boarded the train a few minutes before it rolled out of Moscow. Needless to say, I had introduced myself to the superintendent of the train, an official of great dignity and importance. As a police agent, of course I traveled free on the Government lines. The superintendent was good enough to offer me a spare bed in his private cabin at the end of the train, and during the run we became the best of friends. But I must be excused from dwelling on the details of the journey, not the first I had taken on the great transasiatic line. My whole energies were absorbed in two tasks. In the first place, I had to gain the confidence of the maid, Marie, and in the second to prevent her mistress gaining the confidence of the messenger of the Czar. "I hope that message I brought to the Princess did not contain any bad news?" I said to Marie as soon as I got a chance of addressing her. This was when we were fairly on the way. After first attending to her mistress, and seeing that she was comfortably settled, the maid was at liberty to look after herself, and I had seized the opportunity to render her a few trifling services with her luggage. "I don't know, I'm sure," was the answer to my question. "The Princess tells me nothing of her secrets." "Perhaps the Princess Y----" "Oh, let's call her Sophy," the maid interrupted crossly. Needless to say I welcomed these symptoms that Marie was no great friend of her employer. "Perhaps she has no secrets," I continued. "Have you been with her long?" "Only six months," was the answer. "And I don't think I shall stay much longer. But you're quite mistaken if you think Sophy is one of the innocent ones. She's always up to some mischief or other, though what it is, I don't know." "If you stay with her a little longer, you may find out. And then, if it is anything political, you may make a good deal of money out of her." The girl's eyes brightened. "Keep your eyes open," I said. "Look out for any scraps of paper you see lying about. Keep a diary of the places Sophy goes to, and the people she sees. And when you have anything to tell, let me know. I will give you my address in Petersburg. And you may trust me to see that you come off well." Marie readily agreed to all I asked of her. The understanding thus arrived at was destined to be of the greatest assistance to me. Indeed, it is not too much to say that to this young Russian girl it is due that the two greatest Powers in the Old World are not at this moment battling on the Afghan frontier. We had hardly been an hour under way before I saw the two objects of my watchfulness seated side by side in the drawing-room car, apparently on the friendliest terms. Dismayed by this rapid progress, as it seemed, on the part of the Princess, I reproached myself for not having warned Colonel Menken before we started. I resolved to put him on his guard at the earliest possible moment, and with that view I hung about the smoking-car, waiting till I saw him return to his corner. This was not for some hours. Fortunately, owing to the universal expectation of war, there were not many passengers proceeding to the Far East. The train was practically empty, and so when Colonel Menken had seated himself once more in the snug corner he had prepared for himself, I was able to approach him without fear of being overheard. He was just lighting a cigar as I came up, and took no notice of my respectful salute till he had inhaled the tobacco smoke two or three times and expelled it through his nostrils to test the flavor. At last he turned to me. "Well?" he said with some sharpness. "What is the matter?" "I have seen in the passenger list that you are traveling on the service of the Czar," I answered, "and I venture to place myself at your orders." Colonel Menken scowled at me haughtily. "Does that mean that you want a tip?" he sneered. "Or has some fool ordered you to shadow me?" "Neither, Colonel," I replied. "I am a servant of the Czar, like yourself, as you may see from my uniform, and as I have reason to fear that there is an enemy of his majesty on the train, I wish to put you on your guard." Menken gave a self-confident smile. "I am pretty well able to take care of myself, I believe," he said boastfully. "As for the Nihilists, I no longer believe in their existence. You may point out the man you suspect, if you like, of course." "It is not a man, Colonel, it is a woman." "In that case the adventure promises to be interesting. I do not know any of the women on board except the Princess Y----." "You know her!" I allowed a note of surprise to appear in my voice. "The Princess is related to me," the Czar's messenger declared, with a rebuking frown. "I presume she is not the object of your suspicions?" "And if she were?" "If she were, I should tell you that you had made a very absurd mistake, my good fellow. The Princess is in the confidence of the Dowager Empress; she is perfectly aware of the object of my mission, and she has just promised me that if I carry it out successfully she will become my wife." CHAPTER IX THE BETROTHAL OF DELILAH Colonel Menken regarded me with ironical contempt as I tried to apologize for my hinted distrust of his betrothed. "That will do, my man. I shall tell the Princess of your blunder, and I can assure you she will be heartily amused by it." "At least you will remember that I wear his imperial majesty's uniform," I ventured. "And, however much I have been misled as to the intentions of her highness, I submit that I am entitled to secrecy on your part." "Am I to understand that some one has given you orders referring to the Princess? I thought this was simply some idle suspicion of your own?" "My instructions were to watch over your safety, without letting you perceive it, and to take particular note of any one who seemed to be trying to form your acquaintance on the journey. If you now denounce me to her highness, she will be annoyed, and in any case I shall be of no further use to you." "So much the better," the Colonel said rudely. "I consider your being here at all as an act of impertinence. If I engage to say nothing to the Princess--who, as you say, might be annoyed--will you undertake to leave me alone for the future?" "I will undertake to leave the train at Tomsk," I replied. Colonel Menken closed with this offer, which was meant as a delusive one. I had selected the first important stopping-place at which the train waited sufficiently long for me to procure the materials of a fresh disguise. I took the train superintendent into my confidence, as far as to say that I wished to assume a false character for the remainder of the journey in order to be better able to play the spy on the object of my suspicion. We agreed that one of the train attendants should be put off at Tomsk, and that I should take his place. After my scene with the Colonel, I could not venture to do much in the way of overlooking them. But I made the best use of my friendship with Marie, and she reported to me regularly what she observed of the doings of her mistress. "It is my belief that Sophy is going to marry that stupid Colonel," she informed me, not long after I had heard of the engagement. "Why? I can't think. He has no brains, not much money, and I am certain she is not in love with him." "There has been a quarrel of some kind between those two," she reported later on. "Colonel Menken has been questioning Sophy about her reason for going to Port Arthur just now, when it may be attacked by the Japanese." All this time the Princess had made no move to possess herself of the despatch which Menken was carrying--the real object of her presence on board the train. When Tomsk was reached, I went off into the town and procured different hair and beard so as to effect a complete change in my appearance. The disguise was clumsy enough, but, after all, neither the Colonel nor his companion had had many opportunities of studying my personal appearance. In the little cabin of my friend the superintendent I carried out the transformation, and finished by donning the livery of the railway restaurant service. Thus equipped, I proceeded to lay the table at which the betrothed pair usually took their meals together. As soon as the next meal, which happened to be dinner, was ready, I proceeded to wait upon them. They noticed the change of waiters, and asked me what had become of my predecessor. "He got off at Tomsk," I told them. This was true--the getting rid of the waiter whose place I wished to take had been a simple matter. It must be remembered that I found myself everywhere received as an inspector attached to the secret police, the dreaded Third Section, and, in consequence, my word was law to those I had to deal with. I added with an assumed air of mysterious consequence, "The Inspector of Police also left the train at Tomsk. It is asserted that he is going to make an important arrest." Colonel Menken laughed. Then turning to the beautiful woman who sat facing him across the small table, he said smilingly, "It is lucky the inspector did not arrest you, my dear." "Why, what do you mean?" she demanded. "Simply that this officer, according to his own account, was charged to watch over and protect your devoted servant, and in the exercise of his functions he was good enough to hint to me that you were a suspicious character, of whom I should do well to be on my guard." "Infamous! The wretch! Why didn't you tell me this before?" "I promised the fellow not to. He was afraid of getting into trouble, and as he had only blundered out of zeal, I let him off." "And he has left the train. Why, I wonder?" "I ordered him to." The Princess Y---- looked less and less pleased. A minute later, I caught her stealthily glancing in my direction, and realized that her keen wits were already at work, connecting my appearance on the scene with the disappearance of the inspector. The next day, Colonel Menken and his betrothed took their seats at a different table in the restaurant of the train. I saw the meaning of this maneuver. It was of course a test by which the Princess Y---- sought to learn if I was a spy, appointed to replace the inspector. I took care not to assist her by following them to the new table; on the contrary, I refused the offer of my brother waiter, who was honest enough not to wish to take my tips from me. When we reached Irkutsk, I had another proof that the Princess was beginning to feel uneasy. Marie informed me that her mistress had ordered her to go into the town and send off a telegram, as she would not trust the railway officials. The message, which my ally faithfully reported to me, was addressed to Petrovitch himself and ran as follows: Received wire from you at Moscow reporting our friend ill, and telling me not to wire you again till my return. I now fear some mistake. All going well otherwise. We were carried across the frozen Baikal amid a furious snowstorm. Huddled up in thick furs, and fighting to keep our blood circulating under the leaden pressure of the cruel frost, there was no time to think of conspiracies. But on resuming the journey on the other side of the lake, I saw that the cunning agent of the War Party was maturing some decisive attempt on the messenger of peace. The talks of the lovers became closer and more confidential, the manner of Colonel Menken grew daily more devoted and absorbed, and Marie described her mistress as laboring under an extraordinary excitement. At last, on the very day the train crossed the Chinese frontier on the way to Mukden, Marie came to me with a decisive report. "Sophy has won!" she declared. "I overheard them talking again last night. Ever since they left Tomsk they have been having a dispute, Sophy declaring that the Colonel did not love her, because he suspected her, and he, the stupid creature, swearing that he trusted her entirely. It appears she had got out of him that he was carrying a paper of some kind, and so she said that unless he gave her this paper to keep till they reached Dalny or Port Arthur, she would not believe in him, nor have anything more to say to him. "In the end, she was too many for him. Last night he gave her the paper in a sealed envelope, and I saw her take it from her breast before she undressed last night." "Where is it? What has she done with it?" I demanded anxiously. "I can't tell you that. She had it in her hand when she dismissed me for the night. It looked to me as though she meant to break the seal and read it." Full of the gravest forebodings, I hurried to the rear of the train, got out my inspector's uniform, though without effecting any change in my facial appearance, and made my way to the smoking-car. Colonel Menken, who had just finished breakfast, was settling himself down to a cigar and an illustrated magazine. He gazed up at me in astonishment, as he perceived the change in my costume. "So the Princess was right!" he exclaimed angrily. "You are another policeman." I bowed. "And charged, like the last, to protect me from my cousin and future wife!" "From the person who has robbed you of the Czar's autograph letter to the Emperor of Japan, yes!" Menken recoiled, thunderstruck. "You knew what I was carrying?" "As well as I know the contents of the telegram which the Princess sent from Irkutsk to the head of the Manchurian Syndicate--the man who has sworn that the Czar's letter shall never be delivered." Colonel Menken staggered to his feet, bewildered, angry, half induced to threaten, and half to yield. "You must be lying! Sophy never left my sight while we were at Irkutsk!" "We can discuss that later. Will you, or will you not, reclaim his majesty's letter--the letter entrusted to your honor?" Menken turned white. "I--I will approach the Princess," he stammered, obviously divided between fear of losing her, and dread of myself and any action I might take. "That will not do for me," I said sternly. "I can only make you this offer: Come with me at once to this lady's sleeping berth and regain the despatch, and I will agree to say no more about it; refuse, and I shall report the whole affair to his majesty personally." "Who are you?" inquired the dismayed man. "That is of no consequence. You see my uniform--let that be enough for you." He staggered down the car. I followed, and we reached the car where the Princess was at the moment engaged, with Marie's aid, in putting the last touches to her toilet. She looked up at our appearance, gave an interrogative glance first at Menken and then, at me, and evidently made up her mind. "What is it, gentlemen?" "The--the paper I gave--that you offered to--that--in short, I want it immediately," faltered my companion. "I have no paper of yours, and I do not know what you are talking about, my friend," said the Princess Y---- with the calmest air in the world. Menken uttered a cry of despair. "The letter, the letter I gave you last night--it was a letter from the Czar," he exclaimed feebly. "I think you must have dreamed it," said the Princess with extreme composure. "Marie, have you seen any letter about?" "No, your highness," returned the servant submissively. "If you think there is anything here, you are welcome to look," her mistress added with a pleasant smile. "As for me, I never keep letters, my own or anybody else's. _I always tear them up._" And with these words, and another smile and a nod, she stepped gracefully past us, and went to take her seat in the part of the train reserved for ladies. Somewhere, doubtless, on the white Manchurian plain we had crossed in the night, the fragments of the imperial peacemaker's letter were being scattered by the wind. Menken's face had changed utterly in the last minute. He resembled an elderly man. "Tell the Czar that I alone am to blame," were his last words. Before I could prevent him, he had drawn a revolver from his pocket, and put two bullets through his head. CHAPTER X THE ANSWER OF THE MIKADO A week later, that is to say, on the 8th of February, 1904, I was in Tokio. The behavior of the Princess Y---- on hearing of the death of her victim had been a strange mixture of heartlessness and hysterical remorse. At the first sound of the fatal shots, she came rushing to the scene of the tragedy, and cast herself on the floor of the corridor beside the dead man, seizing his hands, crying his name aloud, and weeping frantically. When I tried to raise her, so that the body might be removed, she turned on me fiercely. "This is your fault!" she cried. "Who are you, and how dared you interfere with me?" "As you see by my uniform, I am an inspector of police attached to the Third Section." She gazed at me searchingly for a moment, and then, lowering her voice, and bringing her lips to my ear, she said with intense energy: "It is a lie. I am here by the orders of the Minister himself, as you must know well. You are acting against us, whoever you are." "I am acting by order of the Czar," I responded. She smiled scornfully. "I expect that is another lie. You could not have got so far as you have unless you had some one else behind you. Poor Nicholas!--Every one knows what he is, and that he has less power than any other man in Russia. Are you Witte's man, I wonder?" "You are a bold woman to question me," I said. "How do you know that I am not going to arrest you for stealing and destroying the Czar's letter?" "I should not remain long under arrest," was the significant answer. She gave me another searching look, and muttered to herself, "If I did not know that he was safe in the hands of my friends in Petersburg I should think you must be a certain Monsieur ----" She broke off without pronouncing my name, and turned away. At Mukden, the next stopping place, the Princess Y---- left the train, no doubt intending to travel back to Russia and report her success. In the meantime, I had reason to think she had notified her friends in Manchuria to keep an eye on me. All the way to Dalny I felt by that instinct which becomes second nature to a man of my profession that I was under surveillance. I detected a change in the manner of my friend the train superintendent. My trifling luggage was carefully searched. In the night when I was asleep some one went through my pockets. I was able to see that even the contents of my cigarette case, which I had not opened since leaving Petersburg, had been turned out and put back again. As the train neared Dalny I began to feel a little nervous. I had a dread of being stopped on my way to embark on board the steampacket which was still running to Tokio. The train drew up at last, at the end of its five-thousand-mile-run, and I stepped off it to the platform, carrying my valise in my hand. The platform was literally swarming with spies, as it was easy for a man of my experience to detect. I walked calmly through them to the cab-stand, and hailed a droshky. The driver, before starting off, exchanged a signal almost openly with a stout man in plain clothes, who dogged me from the railway carriage. Presently I sighted the steamer, alongside the principal wharf, with the smoke pouring out of its funnel, all ready to start. The cabman whipped his horse and drove straight past the steamer. "Where are you going?" I shouted. "To the Custom House first; it is the regulation," was the answer. Taking out my long neglected case, I placed a cigarette between my lips, and asked the driver for some matches. He passed me a wooden box. I struck several, but each went out in the high wind before igniting the tobacco. I was making another attempt as the droshky drew up outside the steps of the Custom House. I dismounted negligently, while one of the officials came and clutched my luggage. Then I walked slowly up the steps, pausing in the porch to strike a fresh match. A porter snatched the box from my hand. "Smoking is forbidden," he said roughly. "Wait till you are out again." I shrugged my shoulders, pinched the burning end of the cigarette, which I retained in my mouth, and sauntered with an air of supreme indifference after the man who was carrying my bag. He led me into a room in which a severe-looking official was seated at a desk. "Your papers," he demanded. I produced the papers with which I had been furnished by Rostoy. The customs official scrutinized them, evidently in the hope of discovering some flaw. "On what business are you going to Tokio?" he demanded. I smiled. "Since when have the police of the Third Section been obliged to render an account of themselves to the officers of the customs?" I asked defiantly. "How do I know that you are not a Japanese spy?" I laughed heartily. "You must be mad. How do I know that you are not a Nihilist?" I retorted. The customs officer turned pale. I saw that my chance shot had gone home. The Russian imperial services are honeycombed by revolutionary intrigues. "Well, I shall detain your luggage for examination," he declared. This time I pretended the greatest agitation. Of course, the more I resisted the more he insisted. In the end he allowed me to depart without my person being searched. The fact is I had convinced him that he held an important prize in my worthless valise. I was just in time to catch the steamer. As I crossed the gangway, a man dressed like a coal-trimmer turned on me a last careful scrutiny, and remarked, "Your cigarette has gone out, Mister." "Can you give me a light? Thank you!" I struck a match, drew a puff of smoke, and handed him back the box. Then I walked on board, the gangway was drawn in, and the Japanese steamer headed out to the open sea. On reaching Tokio I experienced some difficulty in obtaining an audience of the Japanese ruler. I was obliged to announce my name. It will hardly be believed, but the chamberlain whom I had entrusted with the important secret, brought back the answer that the Mikado had never heard of me! "Tell his imperial majesty that there is no monarch of Europe, and only two of Asia, who could say the same. I am here as the confidential plenipotentiary of the Czar, with an autograph letter addressed to the Mikado, and I respectfully ask leave to present it in person." Such a demand of course could not be refused. But even now the haughty Japanese did not receive me in the privacy of his own cabinet. On the contrary, I found myself introduced into the State Council-Room, in which his majesty was seated at a table surrounded by his chief advisers. In particular I remarked the venerable Yamagata, conqueror of China, and the round bullet-head of Oyama, the future overthrower of Kuropatkin. On the table was spread out a large map, or rather plan, of the entire theater of war, including Manchuria, Korea, Japan and the seas between. A man in naval uniform was standing beside the imperial chair, with an expectant look on his face. All eyes were turned upon me at my entrance. The Mikado beckoned to me to approach him. "Is it true that you bring me a letter from the Russian Emperor?" he asked abruptly. "We have received information that such a letter was on its way, but that the bearer was murdered on the Manchurian railway four days ago." "Your majesty's information is substantially correct," I answered. "The messenger, a Colonel Menken, was seduced into parting with his despatch, and committed suicide in consequence." "Well, and what about yourself?" "Foreseeing that the unscrupulous men who have been trying to force on a war between his Russian majesty and your majesty would leave no stone unturned to intercept this despatch, the Czar wrote a duplicate with his own hand, which he entrusted to me, in the hope that I might baffle the conspirators." "Where is it?" "I endeavored to conceal it by unstitching the front of the shirt I am wearing, and sewing it up between the folds. "Unfortunately I was drugged at a dinner party in Petersburg just before starting. I was unconscious for an hour and a half, and I fear that the opponents of peace have taken advantage of the opportunity to find and rob me of the letter. But I will see, with your majesty's permission." The Mikado made no answer. Amid a breathless silence, with all the room watching my movements, I tore open my shirt-front and extracted a paper. It was blank. "So," commented the Japanese Emperor, sternly, "you have no such credentials as you boasted of having." "Pardon me, sire. Anticipating that the War Party would suspect the object of my mission, and would resort to some such step to defeat it, I purposely provided them with a document to steal, believing that when they had robbed me of it they would allow me to proceed unmolested. My real credentials are here." I drew out my cigarette case, found the partially smoked cigarette I had had in my mouth when I ran the gauntlet of the spies at Dalny, and proceeded to cut off the paper. On the inner surface these words were written in the hand of the Czar: The bearer of this, M. V----, has my full confidence, and is authorized to settle conditions of peace. NICHOLAS. As I respectfully placed the scrap of paper, with its charred edges, in the Mikado's hand, I was conscious of a profound sensation in the room. Aged statesmen and brilliant commanders bent eagerly across the table to learn the character of the message thus strangely brought to its destination. His majesty read the brief note aloud. It was received with a murmur, not entirely of satisfaction I was surprised to note. Seeing that the Mikado made no remark, I ventured to say: "I hope that the extreme character of the measures adopted by the Czar to assure your majesty of his peaceful sentiments will have the effect of convincing you that they are genuine." The Emperor of Japan glanced around his council board as if to satisfy himself that he and his advisers were of one mind before replying: "I appreciate the zeal and the extraordinary skill with which you have carried out your mission. I regret that I cannot give you a favorable answer to take back to your nation." I was thunderstruck at this exordium. Slightly raising his voice, the Mikado went on: "Tell the Emperor of Russia that I do not distrust his sincerity, but I distrust his power. The monarch who cannot send a letter through his dominions in safety; who has to resort to stratagems and precautions like these to overcome the opposition of his own subjects, is not the ruler of his empire. "Why, sir, do you suppose that if I had a message to send to my brother in St. Petersburg I should have to stoop to arts like these? That any subject of mine would dare to plot against me, to seduce my messengers, to drug and rob them? Incredible! The tale you have told me completely confirms everything I and my advisers have already heard with regard to the Russian Government. It is a ship without a captain, on which the helm is fought for and seized by different hands in turn. To-day the real rulers of Russia are the men who are bent on war--and who, while we are talking, have actually begun the war!" I gazed around the Council-Room, unable to believe my ears. "Yes," the stern sovereign continued, "while you, sir, were entering the Inland Sea, charged with this offer of peace"--his majesty tossed the precious piece of paper on the table with a look of disdain--"a Russian gunboat, the _Korietz_, was firing the first shot of the war at one of my squadrons off Chemulpo." The glances directed by those present at the naval officer behind the imperial chair convinced me that he had just brought the fatal news to the Council. "And now," added the Mikado, "I will give my reply to the real masters of Russia--to the directors of the _Korietz_." He nodded to the naval officer, who walked across the floor to a box on the wall like a telephone receiver, and pressed a button. "That," his majesty explained, "is the signal for a flotilla of torpedo boats to enter the harbor of Port Arthur and blow up the Russian fleet." I think a faint cry of remonstrance or misgiving must have escaped me. The Japanese monarch frowned, and his voice took a still sterner ring. "Go back to your unfortunate master, and tell him that when he can send me a public envoy, in the light of day, to ask for peace, and to undertake the fulfilment of the pledges which his Ministers have broken, I will grant his request." CHAPTER XI WHO SMOKED THE GREGORIDES BRAND I left the presence of the Japanese Emperor deeply disheartened. It is true I had myself foretold this failure, and that his Japanese majesty and his advisers had been good enough to compliment me in almost extravagant terms on the energy and resourcefulness I had shown in baffling the enemies of peace. But I am unaccustomed to defeat, no matter what are the odds against me, and I felt that the first point in the game had been scored against by the formidable woman whose beauty and strangely composite character had fascinated me, even while I was countermining her. For my work was not yet over. Indeed, it had but just begun. I had not succeeded in averting war between the two great Powers of Asia. But I hoped to thwart the efforts which I feared would be made to extend the conflagration to Europe. As soon as I had found myself once more on civilized ground, I had despatched a cable to my Paris office, announcing my whereabouts and asking for information. The reader may be excused if he has forgotten a little episode which marked my stay in Petersburg. I had noticed something peculiar and at the same time familiar in the scent of the tobacco smoked by Petrovitch, the financial adventurer whose scheme to enrich himself and a corrupt clique of courtiers out of the spoils of Korea and China was the true cause of the war. By a ruse I had secured one of the cigarettes, smoked by this dangerous plotter, and having ascertained that it bore the mark _Gregorides, Crown Aa_, had instructed my staff to ascertain the history of this particular make of cigarettes. While I was resting in my hotel in Tokio, waiting for the reply to my cable, I was honored by a visit from no less a personage than Privy Councillor Katahashi, President of the Imperial Bank of Japan. "I have come," the Privy Councillor explained as soon as the door was closed, "to express the high sense of your ability and devotion which we all possess, and to ask if it is possible for Japan to secure your services." Deeply gratified by this proposal, I was obliged to explain that I was already retained in the interest of Russia. "But what interest?" Mr. Katahashi persisted. "It is clear that you are not acting on behalf of that group which has just succeeded in its purpose of forcing a war." "That is so," I admitted. "It is no breach of confidence--in fact, I serve my employers by assuring you that my efforts are directed toward peace." "In that case there can be no antagonism between us, surely. Is it not possible for you and me--I say nothing about our respective Governments--to co-operate for certain purposes? "I know enough of the conditions which prevail in the Russian Court to feel pretty sure that it was not Nicholas II. who originally sought you out, and entrusted you with this mission," the Japanese statesman added. "At the close of the last war in this part of the world," the Privy Councillor went on, "Japan was robbed of the fruit of her victories by an alliance of three Powers, Russia, Germany, and France. This time we know that England will support us against any such combination. Thanks to King Edward VII. we have nothing to fear. His diplomacy, moreover, has secured the powerful influence of France on the side of peace. Although nominally allied with the Czar, we know that the French Government is determined to limit the area of the war, and to take no part against us, except in one event." "You mean," I put in, "in the event of an attack by England on Russia." "Exactly. And therefore we know that King Edward is making it his particular care that no cause of conflict shall arise." He paused, and glanced at me as though he considered that he had sufficiently indicated the source from which my instructions were received. I contented myself with bowing. "We know, also, that the most restless and ambitious of living monarchs has been bending his whole thoughts and schemes, ever since he ascended the throne, to one supreme end--the overthrow of the British Empire by a grand combination of all the other Powers of the world. If that monarch can force on a general strife in which England will be involved on the side of Japan, while practically every other European Power is leagued against her, M. Petrovitch and his timber concessions will have done their work." I drew a deep breath as I looked at the Japanese statesman with a questioning gaze. As if in answer to my unspoken query, a waiter of the hotel knocked at the door in the same moment, and brought me the long-expected cable from my agent in Europe. I tore it open and read: Cigarettes Gregorides Crown Aa special brand manufactured to order of Marx, Berlin, tobacconist to German Emperor. I looked up from reading the telegram to see the eyes of the Japanese Privy Councillor fixed upon me with the inscrutable, penetrating gaze of the Oriental. "The message you have just received bears on the subject of our conversation, does it not?" he inquired, but in the tone of one who does not doubt what the answer will be. With the caution which has become a habit with me, I read the cable through carefully for the second time, and then placed it on the fire, where it was instantly consumed. The Japanese statesman smiled. "You forget, I think, M. V----, that you have come here as the emissary of a sovereign with whom we are at war, and that, consequently, we cannot afford to respect your privacy. "I have a copy in my pocket," he went on urbanely. "You have felt some curiosity about a particular brand of cigarettes, and your friends have just informed you that they are those supplied to the German Emperor." I looked at Mr. Katahashi with new respect. "Your secret service is well managed, sir," I observed. "Such a compliment from such a quarter is an ample reward for what little pains I may have taken." "Then it is you who are----?" "The organizer of our secret service during the war?--I am." "But you are a banker?" I turned my eyes to the card by which Mr. Katahashi had announced his visit. The Japanese gave another of his subtle smiles--those peculiar smiles of the Oriental which make the keenest-witted man of the West feel that he is little better than a blunderer. "I came here prepared to take you into my confidence," he said gravely. "I am well aware that it is the only safe course in dealing with the Bismarck of underground diplomacy. "I am equally well aware," the Privy Councillor added, "that a secret confided to Monsieur V---- is as safe as if it had been told in confidence to a priest of Buddha, for whom the penalty of betrayal is to be flayed alive." CHAPTER XII THE SECRET SERVICE OF JAPAN "Three years ago," Mr. Katahashi proceeded, "when we first recognized that Japan would be obliged to fight Russia for her existence as a free and independent country, his imperial majesty the Mikado appointed me head of the intelligence department. "I perceived that it would be necessary for me to establish centers in the chief European capitals, and to have at my command a corps of agents whose comings and goings would not attract the attention that is usually given to the movements of persons connected with the staff of an embassy. "In our case precautions were necessary which would not have been recognized in the case of another country. "On the one hand, our Government has laid to heart the profound advice of Herbert Spencer, that whatever is done for Japan should be done by Japanese. "On the other hand, our people have characteristic racial features which make it practically impossible for a Japanese to disguise himself as a Western European, so as to deceive European eyes. "It was therefore necessary to provide an excuse for distributing Japanese agents over the West without the true reason of their presence being known. "I solved this problem by founding the Imperial Bank of Japan." "But, surely!" I exclaimed, "the Imperial Bank of Japan is a _bona fide_ concern? Its shares are regularly quoted on the stock exchanges. It negotiates loans, and carries on the ordinary business of a bank?" "Certainly. Why not? You forget that Japan is not a rich country. What we lack in gold, we are obliged to make up in ingenuity and devotion. Thanks to this idea of mine, the secret service of Japan pays for itself, and even earns a small profit." It gave me something like a cold shock to comprehend the character of this people whom the Russians had so recklessly provoked to draw the sword. I thought of the intelligence departments of some Western Powers, of the rank corruption that reigned on the Neva, where every secret had its price; of the insane conceit of Berlin, which had forgotten nothing and learned nothing since the days of Moltke; of the luxurious laziness of Pall Mall, where superannuated soldiers dozed in front of their dusty pigeon-holes after apoplectic lunches, and exercised their wits chiefly in framing evasive answers suited to the intelligence of the House of Commons. And beside these pictures I placed this of the prosperous commercial house, founded by the man before me, a man whose salary would probably be sniffed at by a deputy-assistant controller in the British War Office. A bank, paying its way, and adding to the revenues of Japan, and yet every member of its staff a tireless spy, ready to go anywhere and risk everything on behalf of his native country! Mr. Katahashi seemed to ignore the effect produced on my mind by his modest explanation. "I have told you this," he resumed, "because if I can succeed in satisfying you that we are both working for the same ends, or at least against the same enemy, I hope it will be agreeable to you to co-operate with me." I drew my brows together in anxious thought. In spite of the flattery and deference of the Privy Councillor I could not but feel that I should be the junior partner in any such combination as he proposed, or, rather, I should find myself an instrument in the hands of one whose methods were strange to me. "Although his imperial majesty was not familiar with your name, you must not suppose that your reputation is not known in the right quarters. I have a very full report on your work in my office. I had intended from the first to engage your services if we required any Western aid; and, as a matter of fact, I was on the eve of sending you a retainer, when I heard I had been anticipated by----" "By Lord Bedale," I put in swiftly. "By Lord Bedale, certainly," the Japanese acquiesced with a polite bow and smile. "After your interview with him, I lost sight of you," my extraordinary companion went on. "Your wonderful transformation into a Little Englander of the Peace-at-any-Price school threw my agents off the scent. But I heard of your interview with Nicholas II." "You did!" Mr. Katahashi nodded. "I recognized you in that transaction. I even guessed that you might make an attempt to carry through a message from the Czar. But, knowing the influences arrayed against you, I never expected you to succeed. Your appearance in our Council-Room was a triumph on which I congratulate you warmly. "And now," the Mikado's Privy Councillor continued, "there remain two questions: "Supposing you are satisfied that the real author of this war is not any one in Russia, but a certain monarch who smokes cigarettes made by the house of Gregorides-- "And that the same ambitious ruler is now weaving his snares to entangle Great Britain, in short your own employer, the----" "Marquis of Bedale," I again slipped in. Again the same polite but incredulous bow and smile from the Japanese statesman. "Would you be willing to accept a retainer from us?" I sat upright, frowning. The somewhat haughty attitude of the Emperor of Japan still rankled within me. "I will accept a retainer from his majesty the Mikado," I announced stiffly. "From no one else." Mr. Katahashi looked thoughtful. "I will see what can be done," he murmured. "The second question----" There was a momentary hesitation in his manner. "I have just spoken to you of the precept of the great English philosopher." "It was, if I remember rightly, that you should employ only Japanese in the service of Japan?" The Privy Councillor bowed. "Therefore, you will see, we are obliged to make a proposal which may seem to you unusual--perhaps unreasonable." "And this proposal is?" I asked, with undisguised curiosity. "That you should become a Japanese." I threw myself back in my chair, amazed. "Your Excellency, I am an American citizen." "So I have understood." "An American citizen is on a level with royalty." "That is admitted." "Even the Dowager Empress of China, when engaging me in her service, though she raised my ancestors to the rank of marquises, did not ask me to forego my citizenship of the United States." "That is not necessary," the Privy Councillor protested. "Explain yourself, if you will be so good." "A man may be an American citizen, although by birth he is a Frenchman, a German, or even a negro. You yourself are a Pole, I believe." I could only bow. "Now I do not propose that you should relinquish your political allegiance, but only that you should exchange your Polish nationality for a Japanese one." "But how, sir?" "It is very simple. By being adopted into a Japanese family." I sat and stared at the Japanese statesman, with his mask-like face and impenetrable eyes. I seemed to be in some strange dream. Who shall judge the ways of the Asiatic! This daring organizer, a match for the most astute minds of the West, believed that he could only make sure of fidelity by persuading me to go through what seemed the comedy of a mock adoption, a ceremony like the blood brotherhood of an African tribe. "And suppose I consent, into what family do you purpose to introduce me?" The Privy Councillor's look became positively affectionate as he responded: "If you would honor me by becoming my kinsman?" I rose to my feet, shaking my head slowly. "I appreciate the compliment your Excellency pays me. But, as we have just now agreed, an American citizen has no equals except royalty. Let us return to the German Emperor and his designs. If I cannot serve you directly I may be able to do so indirectly." The Japanese made no attempt to press his proposal. Instead he plunged into a discussion of the intrigues which radiated from Berlin. "In nearly all the international difficulties and disagreements of the last twenty years," he said, "it is possible to trace the evil influence of Germany. "To German sympathy, a secret encouragement, was due the wanton invasion of Cape Colony by the Boers. To the Kaiser, and his promises of support, was due the hopeless defiance of the United States by Spain. The same Power tried to drag Great Britain into collision with your Republic over the miserable concerns of Venezuela. For years, Germany has been secretly egging on the French to raise troubles against the English in Egypt. In the same spirit, the Sultan has been abetted, first against England and next against Russia. "All these schemes have been spoiled by the action of King Edward VII. in establishing cordial relations with France, and even to a certain extent with Russia. "Now Wilhelm II. has taken advantage of the attraction of France to England, to draw nearer to Russia. He has secured in his interest some of the most influential personages at the Russian Court. The Anglophobe grand dukes, the fire-eaters of the Admiralty, are all his sworn allies. "But that is not the worst. "By some means which I have not yet been able to trace, the Kaiser seems to have acquired a peculiar hold over Nicholas II. "The whole policy of Russia seems to be tinged by this influence. Even where the instigation of Germany is not directly apparent, yet in a hundred ways it is clear that the Russian Government is playing the German game. The cause of all this is a riddle, a riddle which it is for you to solve." "For me?" The words escaped me involuntarily. I had listened with growing uneasiness to the Privy Councillor's revelations. "Undoubtedly. You have facilities which no one else possesses. You enjoy the confidence of the Czar. You cannot be suspected of any selfish designs, still less of any hostile feeling against Wilhelm II., who is understood to be almost your personal friend." "I never allow personal friendships to influence me in the discharge of my duty." "It is because I believe that, that I am talking to you like this," Mr. Katahashi responded quickly. "Well!" he added after a short silence, "what do you say?" "I must have the night to decide." The Japanese Privy Councillor rose to say good-by. After he had gone I sat up late into the night considering how far I could serve my employer in England by entering into the projects of the secret service of Japan. In the morning, I was still undecided, but on the whole it seemed to me that it would be better to act independently. I was considering how to convey this decision to the Mikado's minister, when he again presented himself before me. His manner was deeply agitated. It was evident that he came to make a communication of the highest importance. Instead of taking the chair I offered him, he stood regarding me with an expression that seemed one of awe. "Monsieur V----," he said at length, "your conditions are accepted by his imperial majesty." "What conditions?" I asked, bewildered for the moment. "Last night you informed me that an American citizen occupied the same rank as royalty." "Well?" "The Mikado offers to make you a member of the imperial family by adoption, and one of his majesty's cousins has consented to make you his son!" CHAPTER XIII HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS In these days, when princes resign their rank to marry commoners, and queens elope with tutors, it is probable that most Western minds will see nothing out of the way in the condescension of the Japanese ruler in admitting a diplomatic agent to the honor of the imperial cousinship. But the dynasty of Japan is the most illustrious in the world, excepting only that of Great Britain. Like Edward VII., the Mikado traces his lineage back to pagan gods. From the days of the famous Empress Jimmu, an unbroken line of sacred sovereigns has filled the throne of the Realm of the Rising Sun during more than two thousand years. Mr. Katahashi was evidently pleased to see that I appreciated to the full the tremendous honor accorded to me. "An imperial carriage is waiting to convey you to the Palace," he said. "But it will not be becoming for you to wear that uniform. I have brought you a Japanese dress." An attendant came into the room bearing a gorgeous robe of green silk embroidered with golden chrysanthemums. I put it on like one in a dream. The Privy Councillor with his own hands girt around my waist the two weapons, sacred from time immemorial to the use of the Japanese noble, the sword with which to behead his friend, and the dagger with which to disembowel himself. Needless to say, I had no expectation that I should ever have occasion to regard these magnificently embellished weapons in any other light than as ornamental badges of rank. As we rode to the Palace, I could not forbear contrasting this splendid treatment with that which I had been accustomed to receive from some of the European sovereigns to whom I had rendered important services. Even the German Kaiser, who trusted me more than the head of his own police, who talked to me almost on the footing of an intimate friend, had never offered me so much as the coveted "von" before my name--had not given me even the pretty Red Eagle which is lavished on second-rate generals and lords-in-waiting. I became well-nigh appalled as I contrasted the sluggish conversation, the hide-bound officialism, the stereotyped and sleepy methods of the Western Powers with the sleepless energy, the daring initiative, the desperate industry and courage of this rejuvenated Eastern race. What could any of these obsolete European Governments effect against a nation which was really a vast secret society of forty-five millions, directed by a sacred chief, and wielding all the mechanical resources of the West with the almost inhuman subtlety and ruthlessness of the Orient? "Anything can be done for money." This maxim, which is forever on the lips of Russian statesmen, no longer sounded true in the meridian of Tokio. The ruler of Japan had not offered me so much as a yen. Nay, it was clearly expected and intended that I should devote myself to the service of my new country without pay, and with the same single-hearted devotion as Mr. Katahashi himself. The Mikado was going to enroll in his services as an unpaid volunteer the most highly-paid, in other words, the most trusted and feared, secret service agent of two hemispheres. And it was to cost him? An embroidered garment and two sentences spoken in a private audience! Such are the methods of Japan! On our arrival at the Palace we were received by a chamberlain, who conducted us by the private staircase to the Hall of the Imperial Family. The Hall is an imposing room, hung with portraits of deceased mikados. A single chair, decorated with the emblem of the Rising Sun, stood at the upper end. Almost as soon as we had taken our places, a door behind the chair was thrown up, and a number of the officers of the household, all wearing the ancient national costume, filed in, and grouped themselves around the imperial chair. Then a silver bell sounded, and his imperial and sacred majesty, Mutsuhito CXXI., Mikado, walked slowly forward into the Hall, accompanied by his son and heir, the Crown Prince Yoshihito, and an elderly man, attired with great richness, who was, as my guide whispered to me, his imperial highness Prince Yorimo, second cousin to the Emperor, and the man who had consented to be my titular father. The ceremony was brief but impressive. I could not but be struck by the contrast between the two Mikados--the one whom I had seen yesterday, an alert statesman, wearing Western clothes, and speaking French with hardly a trace of accent, and the one before me now, a solemn, pontifical figure, in his immemorial robes, moving, speaking with the etiquette of a bygone age. Everything passed in the Japanese language, of which I did not then know a single word. Mr. Katahashi did his best to provide a running translation, whispering in my ear, and prompting me with the Japanese words which it was necessary for me to pronounce. As far as I could understand, Prince Yorimo asked permission of the Emperor to adopt a son, as he was childless and desired to have some one who would sacrifice to his own spirit and those of his father and grandfather after he was dead. The Mikado graciously consenting, I was brought forward, and made to renounce my own family and ancestors, and promise to sacrifice exclusively to those of my new father. Prince Yorimo next brought forward a robe embroidered with the imperial emblems, the most prominent of which was the Rising Sun. I was divested of the dress lent me by Katahashi, and my adoptive father flung the imperial garment over my shoulders. The girding on of the samurai weapon followed, and my father addressed me a short exhortation, bidding me hold myself ready at all times to obey the will of the Divine Emperor, even to the point of committing _seppuku_ at his command. _Seppuku_ is the correct name of the rite known in the West by the vulgar name of _hara-kiri_, or the "happy despatch." It is a form of voluntary execution permitted by the ancient laws of Japan to men of noble rank, much as European nobles were allowed to be beheaded instead of being hanged. I was then permitted to kiss the hand of Prince Yorimo, who formally presented me to the Mikado, whose hand also I had to kiss, kneeling. That was the whole of the ceremony, at the close of which Mr. Katahashi bade me a temporary farewell, and my princely father carried me off to a banquet in his own mansion. Tedious and uninteresting as I fear these details must seem to the reader, I have thought it right to record them as an illustration of the spirit of Japan, of that country of which I am proud to be an adopted son. The moment we had quitted the Hall of the Imperial Family, Prince Yorimo began to talk to me in French. He proved to be a most fascinating companion. Old enough to remember the feudal age, which was still in full vigor in Japan forty years ago, he had since mastered most of the knowledge of the West. I soon found that the Prince was by no means disposed to treat the adoption as a mere form. It was evident that the old gentleman had taken a strong fancy to me. He gave me a most affectionate welcome on the threshold of his house, and immediately calling his servants around him, introduced me to them as their future master, and bade them obey me as himself. I was more touched than I care to say by this kind treatment. My own parents have long been dead; I know nothing of any other relations, if I have any; I have long been a wanderer and an adventurer on the face of the earth, and now, at last, I felt as though I had found a home. Something of this I tried to convey to his imperial highness. "My son," he replied with deep tenderness, "I feel that to me you will be a son indeed. You shall learn the language of our beautiful country, you shall grow used to our national ways. Before long you will let me provide you with a daughter of the Chrysanthemum to be your wife, and my grandchildren shall be Japanese indeed." A sound of bells was heard outside. "My friends are coming to pay the customary congratulation," the aged prince explained. "As it is necessary that you should have a name suited to your new rank, I ask you to take that of my father, Matsukata." A few words of direction were spoken to the steward of the chambers, who went out. Immediately afterward he returned, throwing open the doors widely, and announced: "The Marquis Yamagata to congratulate his imperial highness Prince Matsukata!" And the Prime Minister of Japan came toward me. CHAPTER XIV THE SUBMARINE MINE Having told the reader as much as was necessary to enable him to understand my subsequent proceedings, and the real forces at work in the underground struggle which produced the tragedy of the Dogger Bank, I will suppress the remainder of my adventures in Tokio. When I left the capital of my new country I wore around my neck, under the light shirt of chain mail without which I have never traveled for the last twenty years, a golden locket containing the miniature portrait of the loveliest maiden in the East or in the West. It was a pledge. When little, tender fingers had fastened it in its place, little moving lips had whispered in my ear, "Till peace is signed!" I had decided to return to the capital of what was now the country of my enemies, by much the same route as I had left it. To do so, it was necessary to run the blockade of Port Arthur, or rather to feign to do so, for the Japanese Minister of Marine had been asked by my friend Katahashi to give secret instructions to Admiral Togo on my behalf. In order to ensure a welcome from the Russian commander, and to dispel any suspicions, I planned to take in a cargo of Welsh steam coal. Through an agent at Yokohama I chartered a British collier lying at Chi-fu, with a cargo for disposal. Leaving the Japanese port on a steamer bound for Shanghai, I met the collier in mid-ocean, and transferred myself on board her. As soon as I had taken command, I ordered the skipper to head for Port Arthur. This was the first intimation to him that he was expected to run the blockade, and at first he refused. "I'm not afraid--myself," the sturdy Briton declared, "but I've got a mixed crew on board, Germans and Norwegians and Lascars, and all sorts, and I can't rely on them if we get in a tight place." I glanced around at the collection of foreign faces and drew the captain aside. He, at least, was an Englishman, and I therefore trusted him. "There is no danger, really," I said. "Admiral Togo has had secret orders to let me through. This cargo is merely a pretext." The rough sailor scratched his head. "Well, maybe you're telling the truth," he grunted. "But, dang me, if I can get the hang of it. You might belong to any country almost by the cut of your jib; you say you've fixed things up with the blessed Japs, and you're running a cargo of coal for the blessed Rooshians. It's queer, mortal queer, that's all I can say. Howsomdever----" I took out a flask of three-star brandy, and passed it to the doubting mariner. He put it first to his nose, then to his lips. "Ah! Nothing wrong about that, Mister," he pronounced, as he handed back the flask. "It's a fifty-pound job for yourself, no matter what becomes of the cargo," I insinuated. The worthy seaman's manner underwent a magic change. "Port your helm!" he yelled out suddenly and sharply to the man at the wheel. "Keep her steady nor'-east by nor', and a point nor'. Full steam ahead! All lights out! And if one of you lubbers so much as winks an eyelid, by George, I'll heave him overboard!" The crew, who had shown a good many signs of uneasiness since my coming over the side, seemed to think this last hint worth attending to. They slunk forward to their duties, leaving the captain and myself to pace the quarter-deck alone. We steamed swiftly through the darkness till we began to see the search-lights of the Japanese fleet like small white feathers fluttering on the horizon. "Come up on the bridge," the skipper advised. "Got a revolver handy?" I showed him my loaded weapon. "Right! I ain't much afraid of the Japs, but we may have trouble with some of that all-sorts crew I've got below." By and by the white plumes became bigger. All at once a ship lying dark on the water, scarcely a mile away on the weather-bow, spat out a long ribbon of light like an ant-eater's tongue, and we found ourselves standing in a glare of light as if we were actors in the middle of a stage. There was a howl from below, and a mixed body of Lascars, headed by one of the Germans, rushed toward the helm. "Back, you milk-drinking swabs!" the skipper roared. "As I'm a living man, the first one of you that lays a hand on the wheel, I'll fire into the crowd. "Hark ye here!" their commander said with rough eloquence. "In the first place, it don't follow that because you can see a flashlight the chap at t'other end can see you. Second place, no ship that does see us is going to sink us without giving us a round of blank first, by way of notice to heave to. Third place, if we do get a notice, I'm going to stop this ship. And, fourth place, you've got five seconds to decide whether you'd rather be taken into Yokohama by a prize crew of Japs, or be shot where you stand by me and this gentleman." The crew turned tail. Before five seconds had elapsed, not a head was to be seen above decks, except that of the man at the helm, who happened to be a Dane, to be first mate, and to be more than three-parts drunk. Needless to say the warning shot was not fired. We steamed steadily on through the fleet, every vessel of which was probably by this time aware of our presence. The search-lights flashed and fell all around us, but not once did we have to face again that blinking glare which tells the blockade runner that the game is up. But there was another peril in store on which we had not reckoned. The sea all around Port Arthur had been strewn with Russian mines! Unconscious of what was coming, we steamed gaily past the last outlying torpedo-boat of Admiral Togo's squadron. "Through!" cried my friend the skipper, pointing with a grin of delight at the Port Arthur lights as they came into view around the edge of a dark cliff. And even as he looked and pointed, there was a terrific wave, a rush, a flare and a report, and I felt myself lifted off my feet into mid-air. I fancy I must have been unconscious for a second or two while in the air, for the splash of the sea as I struck it in falling seemed to wake me up like a cold douche. My first movement, on coming to the surface again, was to put my hand to my neck to make sure of the safety of the precious locket which had been placed there by my dear little countrywoman. My second was to strike out for a big spar which I saw floating amid a mass of tangled cordage and splinters a few yards in front of me. Strange as it may seem, only when my arms were resting safely on the spar, and I had time to look about me and take stock of the situation, did I realize the extreme peril I had been in. Most dangers and disasters are worse to read about than to go through. Had any one warned me beforehand that I was going to be blown up by a mine, I should probably have felt the keenest dread, and conjured up all sorts of horrors. As it was, the whole adventure was over in a twinkling, and by the greatest good luck I had escaped without a scratch. By this time the forts at the entrance to Port Arthur, attracted, no doubt, by the noise of the explosion, were busily searching the spot with their lights. The effect was truly magnificent. From the blackness of the heights surrounding the famous basin, fiery sword after fiery sword seemed to leap forth and stab the sea. The wondrous blades of light met and crossed one another as if some great archangels were doing battle for the key of Asia. The whole sea was lit up with a brightness greater than that of the sun. Every floating piece of wreckage, every rope, every nail stood out with unnatural clearness. I was obliged to close my eyes, and protect them with my dripping hand. Presently I heard a hail from behind me. I turned my head, and to my delight saw the brave skipper of the lost ship swimming toward me. In another dozen strokes he was alongside and clinging with me to the same piece of wood, which he said was the main gaff. He was rather badly gashed about the head, but not enough to threaten serious consequences. So far as we could ascertain, the whole of the crew had perished. I confess that their fate did not cost me any very great pang, after the first natural shock of horror had passed. They owed their death to their own lack of courage, which had caused them to take refuge in the lowest part of the ship, where the full force of the explosion came. The captain and I, thanks to our position on the bridge, had escaped with a comparatively mild shaking. The steersman would have escaped also, in all probability, had he been sober. In a very short time after the captain had joined me, our eyes were gladdened by the sight of a launch issuing from the fort to our assistance. The officer in charge had thoughtfully provided blankets and a flask of wine. Thus comforted, I was not long in fully recovering my strength, and by the time the launch had set us on shore my comrade in misfortune was also able to walk without difficulty. The lieutenant who had picked us up showed the greatest consideration on learning that we had been blown up in an attempt to run a cargo of coal for the benefit of the Russian fleet. On landing we were taken before Admiral Makharoff, the brave man whom fate had marked out to perish two months later by a closely similar catastrophe. The story which I told to the Admiral was very nearly true, though of course I suppressed the incidents which had taken place in Tokio. I said that I had been charged to deliver a private communication from the Czar to the Mikado, sent in the hope of averting war, that I had arrived too late, and that, having to make my way back to Petersburg, I had meant to do a stroke of business on the way on behalf of his excellency. My inspector's uniform, which I had resumed on leaving Yokohama, confirmed my words, and Admiral Makharoff, after thanking me on behalf of the navy for my zeal, dismissed me with a present of a thousand rubles, and a permit to travel inland from Port Arthur. Needless to say I did not forget to say good-by to my brave Englishman, to whom I handed over the Russian Admiral's reward, thus doubling the amount I had promised him for his plucky stand against the mutineers. I have hurried over these transactions, interesting as they were, in order to come to the great struggle which lay before me in the capital of Russia. CHAPTER XV THE ADVISER OF NICHOLAS II By the second week in March I was back in Petersburg. On the long journey across Asia, I had had time to mature my plans, with the advantage of knowing that the real enemy I had to fight was neither M. Petrovitch nor the witching Princess Y----, but the Power which was using them both as its tools. It was a frightful thing to know that two mighty peoples, the Japanese and Russians, neither of which really wished to fight each other, had been locked in strife in order to promote the sinister and tortuous policy of Germany. So far, the German Kaiser had accomplished one-half of his program. The second, and more important, step would be to bring about a collision between the Russians and the English. Thus the situation resolved itself into an underground duel between Wilhelm II. and myself, a duel in which the whole future history of the world, and possibly the very existence of the British Empire, hung in the balance. And the arbiter was the melancholy young man who wandered through the vast apartments of his palace at Tsarskoe-Selo like some distracted ghost, wishing that any lot in life had been bestowed on him rather than that of autocrat of half Europe and Asia. It was to Nicholas that I first repaired, on my return, to report the result of my mission. I obtained a private audience without difficulty, and found his majesty busily engaged in going through some papers relating to the affairs of the Navy. "So they have not killed you, like poor Menken," he said with a mixture of sympathy and sadness. "Colonel Menken killed!" I could not forbear exclaiming. "Yes. Did you not hear of it? A Japanese spy succeeded in assassinating him, and stealing the despatch, just before Mukden. A lady-in-waiting attached to the Dowager Czaritza happened to be on the train, and brought me the whole story." I shook my head gravely. "I fear your majesty has been misinformed. Colonel Menken committed suicide. I saw him put the pistol to his head and shoot himself. His last words were a message to your majesty." The Czar raised his hand to his head with a despairing gesture. "Will these contradictions never end!" he exclaimed. "Really, sir, I hope you have made a mistake. Whom _can_ I trust!" I drew myself up. "I have no desire to press my version on you, sire," I said coldly. "It is sufficient that the Colonel was robbed, and that he is dead. Perhaps Princess Y---- has also given you an account of my own adventures?" Nicholas II. looked at me distrustfully. "Let us leave the name of the Princess on one side," he said in a tone of rebuke. "I have every reason to feel satisfied with her loyalty and zeal." I bowed, and remained silent. "You failed to get through, I suppose," the Czar continued, after waiting in vain for me to speak. "I beg pardon, sire, I safely delivered to the Emperor of Japan your majesty's autograph on the cigarette paper. I was robbed of the more formal letter in the house of M. Petrovitch, before starting." Nicholas frowned. "Petrovitch again! Another of the few men whom I know to be my real friends." He fidgeted impatiently. "Well, what did the Mikado say?" I had intended to soften the reply of the Japanese Emperor, but now, being irritated, I gave it bluntly: "His majesty professed to disbelieve in your power to control your people. He declared that he could not treat a letter from you seriously unless you were able to send it openly, without your messengers being robbed or murdered on the way across your own dominions." The young Emperor flushed darkly. "Insolent barbarian!" he cried hotly. "The next letter I send him shall be delivered by the commander of my army on the soil of Japan." I was secretly pleased by this flash of spirit, which raised my respect for the Russian monarch. A recollection seemed to strike him. "I hear that you were blown up in attempting to bring some coal into Port Arthur," he said in a more friendly tone. "I thank you, Monsieur V----." I bowed low. "Some of my admirals seem to have been caught napping," Nicholas II. added. "I have here a very serious report about Admiral Stark at Vladivostok." "You surprise me, sire," I observed incautiously. "Out in Manchuria I heard the Admiral praised on all hands for his carefulness and good conduct." "Carefulness! It is possible to be too careful," the Czar complained. "Admiral Stark is too much afraid of responsibility. We have information that the English are taking all kinds of contraband into the Japanese ports, and he does nothing to stop them, for fear of committing some breach of international law." I began to see what was coming. The Emperor, who seemed anxious to justify himself, proceeded: "The rights of neutrals have never been regarded by the British navy, when they were at war. However, I have not been satisfied with taking the opinion of our own jurists. I have here an opinion from Professor Heldenberg of Berlin, who of course represents a neutral Power, and he says distinctly that we are entitled to declare anything we please contraband, and to seize English ships--I mean, ships of neutrals--anywhere, even in the English Channel itself, and sink them if it is inconvenient to bring them into a Russian port." The insidious character of this advice was so glaring that I wondered how the unfortunate young monarch could be deceived by it. But I saw that comment would be useless just then. I must seek some other means of opening his eyes to the pitfalls which were being prepared for him. I came from the Palace with a heavy heart. The next day, Petersburg was startled by the publication of a ukase recalling Vice-Admiral Stark and Rear-Admiral Molas, his second in command, from the Pacific. Immediately on hearing this news I sent a telegram in cipher to Lord Bedale. For obvious reasons I never take copies of my secret correspondence, but to the best of my recollection the wire ran as follows: Germany instigating Russian Navy to raid your shipping on the pretext of contraband. Object to provoke reprisals leading to war. As the reader is aware, this warning succeeded in defeating the Kaiser's main design, the British Government steadily refusing to be provoked. Unfortunately this attitude of theirs played into German hands in another way, as English shippers were practically obliged to refuse goods for the Far East, and this important and lucrative trade passed to Hamburg, to the serious injury of the British ports. But before this development had been reached, I found myself on the track of a far more deadly and dangerous intrigue, one which is destined to live in history as the most audacious plot ever devised by one great Power against another with which it proposed to be on terms of perfect friendship. CHAPTER XVI A STRANGE CONFESSION I had last seen the strange, beautiful, wicked woman known as the Princess Y---- bending in a passion of hysterical remorse over the body of the man she had driven to death, on the snow-clad train outside Mukden. I have had some experience of women, and especially of the class which mixes in the secret politics of the European Courts. But Sophia Y---- was an enigma to me. There was nothing about her which suggested the adventuress. And there was much which tended to support the story which had won the belief of her august mistress--that she was an involuntary agent, who had been victimized by an unscrupulous minister of police, by means of a false charge, and who genuinely loathed the tasks she was too feeble to refuse. I had not been back in Petersburg very long when one afternoon the hotel waiter came to tell me that a lady desired to see me privately. The lady, he added, declined to give her name, but declared that she was well known to me. I had come back to the hotel, I should mention, in the character of Mr. Sterling, the self-appointed agent of the fraternity of British peace-makers. It was necessary for me to have some excuse for residing in Petersburg during the war, and under this convenient shelter I could from time to time prepare more effectual disguises. I was not altogether surprised when my mysterious visitor raised her veil and disclosed the features of the Princess herself. But I was both surprised and shocked by the frightened, grief-stricken look on the face of this woman whom I had come to dread as my most formidable opponent in the Russian Court. "Mr. Sterling!--Monsieur V----?" she cried in an agitated voice that seemed ready to break down into a sob. "Can you forgive me for intruding on you? I dare not speak to you freely in my own house. I am beset by spies." "Sit down, Princess," I said soothingly, as I rolled forward a comfortable chair. "Of course I am both charmed and flattered by your visit, whatever be its cause." With feminine intuition she marked the reserve in my response to her appeal. "Ah! You distrust me, and you are quite right!" she exclaimed, casting herself into the chair. She fixed her luminous eyes on me in a deep look, half-imploring, half-reproachful. "It is true, then, what they have been telling me? You were the man, dressed as an inspector of the Third Section who traveled on the train with me? And you saw the death"--her words were interrupted by a shudder--"of that unhappy man?" It was not very easy to preserve my composure in the face of her emotion. Nevertheless, at the risk of appearing callous, I replied: "I cannot pretend to understand your question. However, even if I did it would make no difference. "Since you know my name is A. V----, you must know also that I never allow myself to talk about my work." The Princess winced under these cold words almost as though she had been physically rebuffed. She clasped her delicately-gloved hands together, and murmured as though to herself: "He will not believe in me! He will not be convinced!" I felt myself in a very difficult position. Either this woman was thoroughly repentant, and sincerely anxious to make some genuine communication to me, or else she was an actress whose powers might have excited envy in the Bernhardt herself. I concluded that I could lose nothing by encouraging her to speak. "You must pardon me if I seem distrustful," I said with a wholly sympathetic expression. "I have my principles, and cannot depart from them. But I have every wish to convince you of my personal friendship." She interrupted me with a terrible glance. "Personal friendship! Monsieur, do you know what I have come here to tell you?" And rising wildly to her feet, she spread out her hands in a gesture of utter despair: "They have ordered me to take your life!" I am not a man who is easily surprised. The adventures I have passed through, some of them far more extraordinary than anything I have recorded in my public revelations, have accustomed me to meet almost any situation with diplomatic presence of mind. But on this occasion I am obliged to admit that I was fairly taken aback. As the lovely but dangerous woman whom I had cause to regard as the most formidable instrument in the hands of the conspirators, avowed to my face that she had been charged with the mission to assassinate me, I sprang from my chair and confronted her. She stood, swaying slightly, as though the intensity of her emotion was about to overpower her. "Do you mean what you say? Do you know what you have said?" I demanded. The Princess Y---- made no answer, but she lifted her violet eyes to mine, and I saw the big tears welling up and beginning to overflow. I was dismayed. My strength of mind seemed to desert me. I have looked on without a tear when men have fallen dead at my feet, but I have never been able to remain calm before a woman in tears. "Madame! Princess!" I was on the point of addressing her by a yet more familiar name. "At least, sit down and recover yourself." Like one dazed, I led her to a chair. Like one dazed, she sank into it in obedience to my authoritative pressure. "Come," I said in a tone which I strove to render at once firm and soothing, "it is clear that we must understand each other. You have come here to tell me this, I suppose?" "At the risk of my life," she breathed. "What must you think of me!" I recalled the fate of poor Menken, whom the woman before me had led to his doom, though she had not struck the blow. In spite of myself, a momentary shudder went through me. The sensitive woman saw or felt it, and shook in her turn. "Believe me or not, as you will," she exclaimed desperately. "I swear to you that I have never knowingly been guilty of taking life. "Never for one moment did I anticipate that that poor man would do what he did," the Princess went on with passionate earnestness. "I tempted him to give me the Czar's letter, and I destroyed it--I confess that. Are not such things done every day in secret politics? Have you never intercepted a despatch?" It was a suggestive question. I thought of more than one incident in my own career which might be harshly received by a strict moralist. It is true that I have always been engaged on what I believed was a lawful task; but the due execution of that task had sometimes involved actions which I should have shrunk from in private life. "I will not excuse myself, Madame," I answered slowly. "Neither have I accused you." "Your tone is an accusation," she returned with a touch of bitterness. "Oh, I know well that men are ready to pardon many things in one another which they will not pardon in us." "I am sorry if I have wounded you," I said with real compunction. "Let us say no more about the tragedy that is past. Am I right in thinking that you have come to me for aid?" "I do not know. I do not know why I am here. Perhaps it is because I am mad." I gazed at her flushed face and trembling hands, unable to resist the feeling of compassion which was creeping over me. What was I to think? What was this woman's real purpose in coming to me? Had her employers, had the unscrupulous Petrovitch, or the ruthless Minister of Police, indeed charged her to remove me from their path; and had her courage broken down under the hideous burden? Or was this merely a ruse to win my confidence; or, perhaps, to frighten me into resigning my task and leaving the Russian capital? Did she wish to save my life, or her own? I sat regarding her, bewildered by these conjectures. I saw that I must get her to say more. "At least you have come to aid me," I protested. "You have given me a warning for which I cannot be sufficiently grateful." "If you believe it is a genuine one," she retorted. Already she had divined my difficulties and doubts. "I do not doubt that you mean it genuinely," I hastened to respond. "There is, of course, the possibility that you yourself have been deceived." "Ah!" She looked up at me in what I could not think was other than real surprise. "You think so?" she cried eagerly. The next moment her head drooped again. "No, no. I have known them too long. They have never trifled with me before. Believe me, Monsieur, when they told me that you were to be murdered they were not joking with me." "But they might have meant to use you for the purpose of terrifying me." She stared at me in unaffected astonishment. "Terrify--_you_!" She pronounced the words with an emphasis not altogether unflattering. "You are better known in Russia than you imagine, M. V----." I passed over the remark. "Still they must have foreseen the possibility that you would shrink from such a task; that your womanly instincts would prove too much for you. At least they have never required such work of you before?" Against my will the last words became a question. I was anxious to be assured that the hands of the Princess were free from the stain of blood. "Never! They dared not! They _could_ not!" she cried indignantly. "You do not know my history. Perhaps you do not care to know it?" Whatever I knew or suspected, I could make only one answer to such an appeal. Indeed, I was desirous to understand the meaning of one word which the Princess Y---- had just used. "Listen," she said, speaking with an energy and dignity which I could not but respect, "while I tell you what I am. I am a condemned murderess!" "Impossible!" "Impossible in any other country, I grant you, but very possible in Russia. You have heard, I suppose, everybody has heard, of the deaths of my husband and his children. The first two deaths were natural, I swear it. I, at all events, had no more to do with them than if they had occurred in the planet Saturn. Prince Y---- committed suicide. And he did so because of me; I do not deny it. But it was not because he suspected me of any hand in the deaths of his children. It was because he knew I hated him! "The story is almost too terrible to be told. That old man had bought me. He bought me from my father, who was head over ears in debt, and on the brink of ruin. I was sold--the only portion of his property that remained to be sold. And from the first hour of the purchase I hated, oh, how I loathed and hated that old man!" There was a wild note in her voice that hinted at unutterable things. "And he," she continued with a shiver, "he loved me, loved me with a passion that was like madness. He could hardly bear me out of his sight. "I killed him, yes, morally, I have no doubt I killed him. He lavished everything on me, jewels, wealth, all the forms of luxury. He made a will leaving me the whole of his great fortune. But I could not endure him, and that killed him. I think," she hesitated and lowered her voice to a whisper, "I think he killed himself to please me." Hardened as I am, I felt a thrill of horror. The Princess was right; the story was too terrible to be told. "Then the police came on the scene. From the first they knew well enough that I was innocent. But they were determined to make me guilty. The head of the secret service at that time was Baron Kratz. He had had his eye on me for some time. The Czar, believing in my guilt, had ordered him not to spare me, and that fatal order gave him a free hand. "How he managed it all, I hardly know. The servants were bullied or bribed into giving false evidence against me. But one part of their evidence was true enough; even I could not deny that I had hated Prince Y----, and that his death came as a welcome relief. "There was a secret trial, and I was condemned. They read out my sentence. And then, when it was all over, Kratz came to me, and offered me life and liberty in return for my services as an agent of the Third Section." "And to save your life you consented. Well, I do not judge you," I said. The Princess glanced at me with a strange smile. "To save my life! I see you do not yet know our Holy Russia. Shall I tell you what my sentence was?" "Was it not death, then?" "Yes, death--by the knout!" "My God!" I gazed at her stupified. Her whole beauty seemed to be focussed in one passionate protest. Knouted to death! I saw the form before me stripped, and lashed to the triangles, while the knotted thong, wielded by the hangman's hands, buried itself in the soft flesh. I no longer disbelieved. I no longer even doubted. The very horror of the story had the strength of truth. For some time neither of us spoke. "But now, surely, you have made up your mind to break lose from this thraldom?" I demanded. "And, if so, and you will trust me, I will undertake to save you." "You forget, do you not, that you yourself are not free? You surely do not mean that you would lay aside your work for my sake?" It was a question which disconcerted me in more ways than one. In a secret service agent, suspicion becomes second nature. I caught myself asking whether all that had gone before was not merely intended to lead up to this one question, and I cursed myself for the doubt. "My duty to my present employer comes first, of course," I admitted. "But as soon as I am free again----" "If you are still alive," she put in significantly. "Ah! You mean?" "I mean that when they find out that I am not to be depended on, they will not have far to look for others." "It is strange that they should have chosen you in the first place," I said thoughtfully. "You said they _could_ not ask you." "They did not offer me this mission. I volunteered." "You volunteered!" She shook herself impatiently. "Surely you understand? I heard them deciding on your death. And so I undertook the task." "Because?" "Because I wished to save you. I had great difficulty. At first they were inclined to refuse me--to suspect my motives. I had to convince them that I hated you for having outwitted me. And I persuaded them that none of their ordinary instruments were capable of dealing with you." "And you meant to give me this warning all along?" "I meant to save you from them. Do you not see, as long as we are together, as long as you are visiting me, and I am seen to be following you up, they will not interfere. If I manage the affair skilfully it may be weeks before they suspect that I am playing them false. I shall have my excuse ready. It is no disgrace to be foiled by A. V." Again there was an interval of silence. The Princess prepared to go. "Stay!" I protested. "I have not thanked you. Indeed, I do not seem to have heard all. You had some reason, surely, for wishing to preserve my life." "And what does my reason matter?" "It matters very much to me. Perhaps," I gave her a searching look, "perhaps the Dowager Czaritza has enlisted you on our side?" The beautiful woman rose to her feet, and turned her face from me. "Think so, if you will. I tell you it does not matter." "And I tell you it does matter. Princess!" "Don't! Don't speak to me, please! Let me go home. I am not well." Trembling violently in every limb, she was making her way toward the door, when it was suddenly flung open, and the voice of the hotel servant announced: "M. Petrovitch!" The head of the Manchurian Syndicate walked in with a smile on his face, saw the Princess Y---- coming toward him, and stopped short, the smile changing to a dark frown. CHAPTER XVII A SUPERNATURAL INCIDENT Whether because he saw that I was watching him, or because he placed his own interpretation on the circumstances, the war plotter changed his frown into a smile. "I am glad to see, Princess," he said to the trembling woman, "that you have so soon found our good friend Mr. Sterling again." The Princess Y---- gave him a glance which seemed to enjoin silence, bowed with grace, and left the room in charge of the servant who had announced M. Petrovitch. The latter now advanced to greet me with every appearance of cordiality. The last time I had met this well-dressed, delicate scamp, he had drugged and robbed me. Now I had just been told that he was setting assassins on my track. But it is my rule always to cultivate friendly intercourse with my opponents. Few men can talk for long without exposing something of their inner thoughts. I wanted M. Petrovitch to talk. Therefore I returned his greeting with equal cordiality, and made him sit down in the chair from which the Princess Y---- had just risen. "You will be surprised to hear, no doubt, Mr. Sterling, that I have brought you an invitation from the Emperor." "From what Emperor?" was the retort on the tip of my tongue. Fortunately I suppressed it; there is no accomplishment so fatal to success in life as wit, except kindness. I simply answered, "I am not readily surprised, M. Petrovitch. Neither, I imagine, are you." The financier smiled. "May I call you M. V----?" he asked. "His majesty has told me who you are." "Were you surprised by that?" I returned with sarcasm. Petrovitch fairly laughed. "I hear you have been denouncing me to Nicholas," he said lightly. "Can't I persuade you to let our poor little Czar alone. I assure you it is a waste of breath on your part, and you will only worry a well-meaning young man who has no head for business." This was plain speaking. It argued no ordinary confidence on the part of the intriguer to speak in such a fashion of the Autocrat of All the Russias. Already the interview was telling me something. Petrovitch must have some strong, secret hold on Nicholas II. I shrugged my shoulders as I answered in my friendliest manner, "I have no personal feeling against you, my dear Petrovitch. But to use drugs--come, you must admit that that was a strong measure!" "I apologize!" laughed the Russian. "All the more as I find you were too many for us after all. I would give something to know how you managed to hide the letter you got through." It was my turn to laugh. I had reason to feel satisfied. Weak as the Russian Emperor might be, it was evident that he had not betrayed my secret. "Well, now," the promoter resumed, "all that being over, is there any reason why we should not be friends? Be frank with me. What end have you in view that is likely to bring us into collision?" "There is no reason why I should not be frank with you," I answered, racking my brain for some story which the man before me might be likely to believe, "especially as I do not suppose that either of us is likely to report this conversation quite faithfully to his imperial majesty. I am a Japanese spy." Petrovitch gave me a glance in which I thought I detected a mingling of incredulity and admiration. "Really, you are a cool hand, my dear V----!" "Why, is there anything in that to make us enemies? You are not going to pose as the zealous patriot, I hope. I thought we had agreed to be frank." The financier bit his lip. "Well, I do not deny that I am before all things a man of business," he returned. "If your friends the Japanese can make me any better offer than the one I have had from another quarter, I do not say." "I will see what I can arrange for you," I answered, not wholly insincerely. "In the meantime, I think you said something about an invitation?" "Oh, yes, from Nicholas. He wants to see you. He has some scheme or other in which he thinks that you and I can work together, and he wants us to be friends, accordingly." "But we are friends, after to-day, I understand?" "It is as you please, my dear V----," replied the conspirator with a slightly baffled air. "You have made a good beginning, apparently, with the Princess Y----." I put on the self-satisfied air of the man who is a favorite with women. "The Princess has been extremely kind," I said. "She has pressed me to visit her frequently. Oh, yes, I think I may say we are good friends." Petrovitch nodded. I had purposely prepared his mind for the story which I anticipated he would hear from my beautiful protector. Evidently it would be necessary for her to tell the Syndicate that she was feigning affection for me in order to draw me into a trap. "Then, as my carriage is outside, may I take you to the Winter Palace?" "That seems the best plan," I acquiesced. "It will convince the Czar that we are on good terms." We drove off together, sitting side by side like two sworn friends. I do not know what thoughts passed through his mind; but I know that all the way I kept my right hand on the stock of my revolver, and once, when one of the horses stumbled, M. Petrovitch was within an instant of death. At the Palace he put me down and drove off. I was admitted to the Czar's presence without difficulty, and found him, as usual, surrounded by piles of state papers. Nicholas II. looked up at my entrance with evident pleasure. "Ah, that is right, M. V----. I hope that, since you have come so promptly in response to the message I gave that worthy M. Petrovitch, you and he are now good friends." I could only bow silently. I was a Japanese, related to the sovereign with whom he was at war, and I was acting in the service of Great Britain. Petrovitch had just forced on the war which Nicholas had wished to avert, and he was still acting secretly in the interests of Germany. And the Czar was congratulating himself that we were friends. It was useless to try to undeceive him. "Sit down, if you please, M. V----. I have something of the greatest importance to tell you. Stay--Perhaps you will be good enough to see first that the doors are all secured. I dislike interruptions." I went to the various entrances of the room, of which there were three, and turned the keys in the doors. "Even M. Petrovitch does not know what I am going to tell you," Nicholas said impressively as I returned to my seat. "Your majesty does not trust him entirely, then?" I exclaimed, much pleased. "You mistake me. I do not distrust M. Petrovitch; but this is a matter of foreign politics, with which he is not familiar. He admits frankly that he knows nothing about diplomacy." I gazed at the benevolent young monarch in consternation. It was the spy of Wilhelm II., the agent of the most active diplomatist in the world, of whom he had just spoken! There was no more to be said. The Emperor proceeded to put a most unexpected question. "Are you a believer in spirits, M. V----?" "I am a Roman Catholic, sire. Whatever my Church teaches on this subject, I believe. I am rather neglectful of my religious duties, however, and do not know its attitude on this subject." "I honor your loyalty to your communion, M. V----. But as long as you do not know what is the attitude of your Church on this subject, you cannot feel it wrong to listen to me." I perceived that if his majesty was no politician, he was at least something of a theologian. The Czar proceeded: "There is in Petersburg one of the most marvelous mediums and clairvoyants who has ever lived. He is a Frenchman named Auguste. He came here nearly a year ago--just when the difficulty with Japan was beginning, in fact; and he has given me the most valuable information about the progress of events. Everything he has foretold has come true, so far. He warned me from the first that the Japanese would force me into war, just as they have done. In short, I feel I can rely on him absolutely." This was not the first time I had heard of the spiritualist who had established such an extraordinary hold on the Russian ruler's mind. The common impression was that he was a mystic, a sort of Madame Krüdener. At the worst he was regarded as a charlatan of the ordinary spirit-rapping type, cultivating the occult as a means of making money. But now, as I listened to the credulous monarch, it suddenly struck me what an invaluable tool such a man might prove in the hands of a political faction, or even of a foreign Power astute enough to corrupt him and inspire the oracles delivered by the spirits. I listened anxiously for more. The Emperor, evidently pleased with the serious expression on my face, went on to enlighten me. "Last night M. Auguste was here, in this room, and we held a private _séance_. He succeeded in getting his favorite spirit to respond." "Is it permissible to ask the spirit's name?" I ventured respectfully. "It is Madame Blavatsky," he answered. "You must have heard of her, of course. She was practically the founder of rational psychical knowledge, though she died a victim to persecution." I nodded. I had heard of this celebrated woman, who still numbers many followers in different parts of the world. "Last night, as soon as we found that the spirit of Madame Blavatsky was present, I asked Auguste to question it about the Baltic fleet. "I had been holding a preliminary review of the fleet in the morning, as you may have seen from the papers. The officers and men seemed thoroughly nervous, and very doubtful whether it would ever be in a condition to sail. Even the Admiral, Rojestvensky, did not seem quite happy, and he found great fault with the stores and equipments. "I had to authorize a delay of another month, and the Marine Department would not promise to have the fleet ready even then. "Naturally, I wished to know what would become of the fleet when it did sail. Auguste questioned the spirit." His majesty broke off to feel in his pocket for a small slip of paper. "I took down the answer myself, as the spirit rapped it out." And he read aloud: Baltic Fleet threatened. Japanese and English plotting to destroy it on the way to Port Arthur. I started indignantly. "And you believe that, sire! You believe that the British Government, which has been straining every nerve to maintain peace, is capable of planning some secret outrage against your Navy?" "It does not say the Government," he announced with satisfaction. "The spirit only warns me against the English. Private Englishmen are capable of anything. At this very moment, two Englishmen are arranging to run a torpedo boat secretly out of the Thames, disguised as a yacht, and to bring her to Libau for us." This piece of information silenced me. It was no doubt possible that there might be Englishmen daring enough to assist the Japanese in some secret enterprise against a Russian fleet. But I felt I should like to have some better authority for the fact than the word of Madame Blavatsky's spirit. "The warning is a very vague one, sire," I hinted. "True. But I hope to receive a more definite message to-morrow night. I was going to ask you if you would have any objection to be present. You might then be able to put pressure on the British Government to prevent this crime." Needless to say I accepted the imperial invitation with eagerness. And I retired to send the following despatch to Lord Bedale: When Baltic Fleet starts prepare for trouble. Have all ports watched. It is believed here that attack on it is preparing in England. CHAPTER XVIII THE MYSTERY OF A WOMAN Who was M. Auguste? This was the question that kept my mind busy after my singular interview with the Russian Emperor. In accordance with my rule to avoid as much as possible mentioning the names of the humbler actors in the international drama, I have given the notorious medium a name which conceals his true one. He appeared to be a foreigner, and the Czar's weakness in this direction was too well known for his patronage of the quack to excite much attention; apparently it had occurred to no one but myself that such a man might be capable of meddling in politics. In his more public performances, so far as I could learn, the revelations of the spirits were confined to more harmless topics, such as the nature of the future state, or the prospect of an heir being born to the Russian crown. In my quest for further light on this remarkable personage, my thoughts naturally turned to the Princess Y----. I have not concealed that at our first meeting the charming collaborator of M. Petrovitch had made a very strong impression on me. Her subsequent conduct had made me set a guard on myself, and the memory of the Japanese maiden whose portrait had become my cherished "mascot," of course insured that my regard for the Princess could never pass the bounds of platonic friendship. But the strange scene of the day before had moved me profoundly. Vanity is not a failing of which I am ever likely to be accused by my worst detractor, yet it was impossible for me to shut my eyes or ears to the confession which had been made with equal eloquence by the looks, the blushes and even the words of the beautiful Russian. Was ever situation more stupid in all the elements of tragedy! This unhappy woman, spurred to all kinds of desperate deeds by the awful fear of the knout, had been overcome by that fatal power which has wrecked so many careers. In the full tide of success, in the very midst of a life and death combat with the man it was her business to outwit and defeat, she had succumbed to love for him. And now, to render her painful situation tenfold more painful, she was holding the dagger at his breast as the only means of keeping it out of the clutch of some more murderous hand. Had I the pen of a romancer I might enlarge on this sensational theme. But I am a man of action, whose business it is to record facts, not to comment on them. I sought the mansion on the Nevsky Prospect, and asked to see its mistress. Evidently the visit was expected. The groom of the chambers--if that was his proper description--led me up-stairs, and into a charming boudoir. A fire replenished by logs of sandalwood was burning in a malachite stove, and diffusing a dream-like fragrance through the chamber. The walls of the room were panelled in ivory, and the curtains that hung across the window frames were of embroidered silk and gold. Each separate chair and toy-like table was a work of art--ebony, cinnamon, and other rare and curious woods having been employed. But the rarest treasure there was the mistress of all this luxury. The inmate of the sumptuous prison, for such it truly was, lay back on a leopard-skin couch, set in the frame of a great silver sea-shell. She had dressed for my coming in the quaint but gorgeous costume of ancient Russia, the costume worn by imperial usage at high State functions like coronations, weddings and christenings. The high coif above her forehead flamed with jewels, and big, sleepy pearls slid and fell over her neck and bosom. At my entrance she gave a soft cry, and raised herself on one white arm. I stepped forward as though I were a courtier saluting a queen, and pressed my lips to her extended hand. "I expected you, Andreas." Only two women in my life have I ever allowed to call me by my Christian name. One was the ill-starred lady who perished in the Konak in Belgrade. The other--but of her I may not speak. But it was not for me to stand on ceremony with the woman who had interposed herself as a shield between me and the enemies who sought my death. "You knew that I should come to thank you," I said. "I do not wish for thanks," she answered, with a look that was more expressive than words. "I wish only that you should regard me as a friend." "And in what other light is it possible for me to regard you, dear Princess?" I returned. "Only this friendship must not be all on one side. You, too, must consent to think of me as something more than a stranger whose life you have saved." "Can you doubt that I have done so for a long time?" It needed the pressure of the locket against my neck to keep me from replying to this tenderly-spoken sentiment in a way which might have led to consequences, for the Russian Empire as well as for the Princess and myself, very different to those which have actually flowed from our conjunction. Conquering my impulses as I best could, I sought for a reply which would not wear the appearance of a repulse. "You misunderstand me," I said, putting on an expression of pride. "You little know the character of Andreas V---- if you think he can accept the humiliating position of the man who is under obligation to a woman--an obligation which he has done nothing to discharge. Not until I can tell myself that I have done something to place me on a higher level in your eyes, can my thoughts concerning you be happy ones." A shade of disappointment passed over Sophia's face. She made a pettish gesture. "Does not--friendship do away with all sense of obligation?" she complained. "Not with me," I answered firmly. "No, Sophia, if you really care for me--for my friendship­-you must let me do what I have sworn to do ever since I first saw you and heard some rumors of your tragic story." "You mean?" "You must let me break your odious bondage. I can deliver you, if you will only trust me, from the power of the Russian police, or any other power, and set you free to live the life of fascination and happiness which ought to be yours." The Princess seemed plunged in meditation. At length she looked up---- "You would undertake a hopeless task, my dear Andreas. Not even you can fathom all the ramifications of the intrigues in which I find myself an indispensable puppet. Those who control my movements will never let go the strings by which they hold me, and least of all, just now." I was distressed to see that the Princess was disposed to evade my appeal for confidence. I answered with a slightly wounded air: "I may know more than you think, more even than you know yourself on certain points. But of course you are not willing to confide in me fully----" "There can be no perfect trust without perfect"--The Princess, who spoke this sentence in Russian, concluded it with a word which may mean either friendship or love according to circumstances. As she pronounced it, it seemed like love. "There can be no perfect love without perfect trust," I responded quickly, striving to assume the manner of an exacting lover. And then, a happy thought striking me, I added in an aggrieved voice, "Do you think it is nothing to me that you should be associated with other men in the most secret enterprises, holding private conferences with them, receiving them in your house, perhaps visiting them in theirs; that you should appear to be on intimate terms with the Grand Duke Staniolanus, with M. Petrovitch, with a man like this M. Auguste----" At the sound of this last name, to which I had artfully led up, Sophia sprang into a sitting posture and gave me a look of anger and fear. "Who told you anything about M. Auguste?" she demanded in hoarse tones. "What has he to do with me?" "Nay, it is not you who ought to ask me that," I returned. "You may be a believer in his conjuring tricks, for aught I know. He may be more to you than a comrade, or even a prophet--more to you than I." "Who told you that he was my comrade, as you call it?" the Princess insisted, refusing to be diverted from her point. "No one," I said quite truthfully. "I should be glad to know that he was only that. But it is natural for me to feel some jealousy of all your friends." The Princess appeared relieved by this admission. But this relief confirmed all my suspicions. I now felt certain that the medium was an important figure in the plot which I was trying to defeat. I saw, moreover, that however genuine my beautiful friend might be in her love for me and her desire to save my life, she had no intention of betraying the secrets of her fellow conspirators. Her character presented an enigma almost impossible to solve. Perhaps it is not the part of a wise man ever to try to understand a woman. Her motives must always be mysterious, even to herself. It is sufficient if one can learn to forecast her actions, and even that is seldom possible. "Then you refuse my help?" I asked reproachfully. "You cannot help me," was the answer. "At least, that is, unless you possess some power I have no idea of at present." It was an ingenious turning of the tables. Instead of my questioning the Princess, she was questioning me, in effect. I made what was perhaps a rash admission. "I am not wholly powerless, at all events. There are few sovereigns in Europe whom I have not obliged at some time or other. Even the German Emperor, though I have more than once crossed his path in public matters, is my personal friend. In spite of his occasional political errors, he is a stainless gentleman in private life, and I am sure he would hear with horror of your position and the means by which you had been forced into it." Sophia looked at me with an expression of innocent bewilderment which I could scarcely believe to be real. "The German Emperor! But what has he to do with me?" "He is said to have some influence with the Czar," I said drily. My companion bit her lip. "Oh, the Czar!" Her tone was scathing in its mixture of pity and indifference. "Every one has some influence with the Czar. But is there any one with whom Nicholas has influence?" It was the severest thing I had ever heard said of the man whom an ironical fate has made master of the Old World. Suddenly the manner of the Princess underwent a sudden change. She rose to her feet and gave me a penetrating glance, a glance which revealed for the first time something of that commanding personality which had made this slight, exquisite creature for years one of the most able and successful of secret negotiators, and a person to be reckoned with by every foreign minister. "You do not trust me, Andreas V----. It is natural. You do not love me. It is possible that it is my fault. But I have sworn to save your life, and I will do it in your own despite. In order that I may succeed, I will forget that I am a woman, and I will forget that you regard me as a criminal. Come here! I will show you into my oratory, into which not even my confidential maid is ever allowed to penetrate. Perhaps what you will see there may convince you that I am neither a traitor nor a Delilah." With the proud step of an empress, she led the way into the adjoining room, which was a bedroom sumptuously enriched with everything that could allure the senses. The very curtains of the bed seemed to breathe out languorous odors, the walls were hung with ravishing groups of figures that might have come from a Pompeiian temple, the dressing-table was rich with gold and gems. Without pausing for an instant the mistress of the chamber walked straight across it to a narrow door let into the farther wall, and secured by a tiny lock like that of a safe. Drawing a small key from her bosom, the Princess inserted it in the lock, leaving me to follow in a state of the most intense expectation. The apartment in which I found myself was a narrow, white-washed cell like a prison, lit only by the flames of two tall wax candles which stood on a table, or rather an altar, at the far end. Besides the altar, the sole object in the room was a wooden step in front of it. Over the altar, in accordance with the rule of the Greek Church, there hung a sacred picture. And below, between the two candlesticks, there rested two objects, the sight of which fairly took away my breath. One was a photograph frame containing a portrait of myself--how obtained I shall never know. The portrait was framed with immortelles, the emblems of death, and the artist had given my face the ghastly pallor and rigidity of the face of a corpse. The other object on the altar was a small whip of knotted leather thongs. Without uttering a word, without even turning her head to see if I had followed, the Princess Y---- knelt down on the step, stripped her shoulders with a singular determined gesture, and then, taking the knout in one hand, began to scourge the bare flesh. CHAPTER XIX THE SPIRIT OF MADAME BLAVATSKY At the hour appointed by the Czar I presented myself at the Winter Palace to assist at the spiritualist experiments of M. Auguste. I shall not attempt to describe the impression left by the weird scene in the Princess Y----'s oratory. To those who do not know the Slav temperament, with its strange mixture of sensuality and devotion, of barbarous cruelty and over-civilized cunning, seldom far removed from the brink of insanity, the incident I have recorded will appear incredible. I have narrated it, simply because I have undertaken to narrate everything bearing on the business in which I was engaged. I am well aware that truth is stranger than fiction, and I should have little difficulty, if I were so disposed, in framing a story, full of plausible, commonplace incidents, which no one could doubt or dispute. I have preferred to take a bolder course, knowing that although I may be discredited for a time, yet when historians in the future come to sift the secret records of the age, I shall be amply vindicated. I shall only add that I did not linger a moment after the unhappy woman had begun her penance, if such it was, but withdrew from her presence and from the house without speaking a word. The feelings with which I anticipated my encounter with the medium were very different. Whatever might be my doubts with regard to the unfortunate Sophia--and I honestly began to think that the suicide of Menken had affected her brain--I had no doubt whatever that M. Auguste was a thoroughly unscrupulous man. The imperial servant to whom I was handed over at the entrance to the Czar's private apartments conducted me to what I imagine to have been the boudoir of the Czaritza, or at all events the family sitting room. It was comfortably but plainly furnished in the English style, and was just such a room as one might find in the house of a London citizen, or a small country squire. I noticed that the wall-paper was faded, and the hearth-rug really worn out. The Emperor of All the Russias was not alone. Seated beside him in front of the English grate was the beautiful young Empress, in whose society he finds a refuge from his greedy courtiers and often unscrupulous ministers, and who, I may add, has skilfully and successfully kept out of any entanglement in politics. Rising at my entrance, Nicholas II. advanced and shook me by the hand. "In this room," he told me, "there are no emperors and no empresses, only Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas." He presented me to the Czaritza, who received me in the same style of simple friendliness, and then, pointing to a money-box which formed a conspicuous object on the mantel-shelf, he added: "For every time the word 'majesty' is used in this room there is a fine of one ruble, which goes to our sick and wounded. So be careful, M. V----." In spite of this warning I did not fail to make a good many contributions to the money-box in the course of the evening. In my intercourse with royalty I model myself on the British Premier Beaconsfield, and I regard my rubles as well spent. We all three spoke in English till the arrival of M. Auguste, who knew only French and a few words of Russian. I remarked afterward that the spirit of Madame Blavatsky, a Russian by birth, who had spent half her life in England, appeared to have lost the use of both languages in the other world, and communicated with us exclusively in French. The appearance of M. Auguste did not help to overcome my prejudice against him. He had too evidently made up for the part of the mystic. The hair of M. Auguste was black and long, his eyes rolled much in their sockets, and his costume was a compromise between the frock coat and the cassock. But it was above all his manner that impressed me disagreeably. He affected to be continually falling into fits of abstraction, as if his communings with the spirits were diverting his attention from the affairs of earth. Even on his entrance he went through the forms of greeting his host and hostess as though scarcely conscious of their presence. I caught a sly look turned on myself, however, and when I was presented to him as "Mr. Sterling" his reception of the name made me think that he had expected something else. The Czar having explained that I was a friend interested in spiritualism, in whose presence he wished to hear again from Madame Blavatsky, M. Auguste rolled his eyes formidably, and agreed to summon the departed theosophist. A small round table was cleared of the Czaritza's work-basket--she had been knitting a soldier's comforter--and we took our seats around it. The electric light was switched off, so that we were in perfect darkness, except for the red glow of the coal fire. A quarter of an hour or so passed in a solemn silence, broken only by occasional whispers from "Mr. Nicholas" or the medium. "It is a long time answering," the Czar whispered at last. "I fear there is a hostile influence," M. Auguste responded in the jargon of his craft. Hardly had the words left his lips when a perfect shower of raps seemed to descend on all parts of the table at once. Let me say here, once for all, that I am not prepared to offer any explanation of what happened on this occasion. I have read of some of the devices by which such illusions are produced, and I have no doubt a practised conjurer could have very easily fathomed the secrets of M. Auguste. But I had not come there with any intention of detecting or exposing him. The medium pretended to address the author of the raps. "If there is any hostile influence which prevents your communicating with us, rap twice." Two tremendous raps nearly drowned the last word. The spirit seemed to be quick-tempered. "If it is a woman, rap once----" No response. This was decidedly clever. "If it is myself, rap." This time, instead of silence, there was a faint scratching under the surface of the table. "The negative sign," M. Auguste explained blandly, for our benefit. Then, addressing himself once more to the invisible member of the party, he inquired: "If it is Mr. Nicholas, rap." Silence. "You must excuse me," the medium said, turning his face in my direction. "If it is Mr. Sterling----" A shower of raps. I really thought the table would have given way. This was discouraging. The Czar came to my rescue, however. "I particularly wish Mr. Sterling to be present," he observed with a touch of displeasure--whether intended for M. Auguste or the spiritual visitant I could not tell. The hierophant no doubt saw that he must submit. His retreat was executed with great skill. "If the obstacle is one that can be removed, rap once." A rap. "Can you spell it for us?" In the rather cumbrous alphabet in use among the shades, the visitor spelled out in French: "_Son nom._" "Is there something you object to about his name?" A rap. "Is it an assumed name?" A very loud rap. Decidedly the spirit was indignant. "Can you tell us his real name? His initials will do?" "A. V." spelled the unseen visitor. "Is that right?" M. Auguste inquired with well-assumed curiosity. "It is marvelous!" ejaculated the Emperor. "You will understand, of course, Auguste, that this must be kept a secret among ourselves." "Ask if it is Madame Blavatsky," said the Czar. We learned that the apostle of theosophy was indeed present. "Would you like to hear from any other spirits?" M. Auguste asked the company. "I should be glad of a word with Bismarck," I suggested. In five minutes the Iron Chancellor announced himself. His rap was sharp, quick and decided, quite a characteristic rap. "Ask if he approves of the present policy of the German Emperor?" A hearty rap. Evidently the spirit had greatly changed its views in the other world. "Ask if he remembers telling me, the last time I saw him, that Russia was smothering Germany in bed?" "Do you refuse to answer that question?" M. Auguste put in adroitly. An expressive rap. "Will you answer any other questions from this gentleman?" Then the spirit of Bismarck spoke out. It denounced me as a worker of evil, a source of strife, and particularly as one who was acting injuriously to the Russian Empire. I confess M. Auguste scored. "In his lifetime he would have said all that, if he had thought I was working in the interest of Russia and against Germany," I remarked in my own defence. The spirit of the Iron Chancellor was dismissed, and that of Madame Blavatsky recalled. It was evident that the Czar placed particular confidence in his late subject. Indeed, if the issues at stake had been less serious, I think I should have made an attempt to shake the Emperor's blind faith in the performances of M. Auguste. But my sole object was to read, if I could, the secret plans and intentions of a very different imperial character, whose agent I believed the spirit to be. M. Auguste, I quickly discovered, was distracted between fear of offending Nicholas by too much reserve, and dread of enabling me to see his game. In the end the Czar's persistence triumphed, and we obtained something like a revelation. "Tell us what you can see, that it concerns the Emperor to know," M. Auguste had adjured his familiar. "I see"--the reply was rapped out with irritating slowness--I quite longed for a slate--"an English dockyard. The workmen are secretly at work by night, with muffled hammers. They are building a torpedo boat. It is to the order of the Japanese Government. The English police have received secret instructions from the Minister of the Interior not to interfere." "Minister of the Interior" was a blunder. With my knowledge of English politics I am able to say that the correct title of this personage should be "Secretary of State for the Domestic Department." But few foreigners except myself have been able to master the intricacies of the British Constitution. "For what is this torpedo boat designed?" M. Auguste inquired. "It is for service against the Baltic Fleet. The Russian sailors are the bravest in the world, but they are too honest to be a match for the heathen Japanese," the spirit pursued, with some inconsistency. I could not help reflecting that Madame Blavatsky in her lifetime had professed the Buddhist faith, which is that of the majority in Japan. "Do you see anything else?" "I see other dockyards where the same work is being carried on. A whole fleet of warships is being prepared by the perfidious British for use against the fleet of Russia." "Ask her to cast her eye over the German dockyards," I put in. "Spirits have no sex," M. Auguste corrected severely. "I will ask it." A succession of raps conveyed the information that Germany was preserving a perfectly correct course, as usual. Her sole departure from the attitude of strict neutrality was to permit certain pilots, familiar with the North Sea navigation, to offer their services to the Russian fleet. "Glance into the future," said the Czar. "Tell us what you see about to happen." "I see the Baltic Fleet setting out. The Admiral has issued the strictest orders to neutral shipping to retire to their harbors and leave the sea clear for the warships of Russia. He has threatened to sink any neutral ship that comes within range of his guns. "As long as he is in the Baltic these orders are obeyed. The German, Swedish and Danish flags are lowered at his approach, as is right. "Now he passes out into the North Sea. The haughty and hostile English defy his commands. Their merchant ships go forth as usual. Presuming on their knowledge of international law, they annoy and vex the Russian warships by sailing past them. The blood of the brave Russian officers begins to boil. Ask me no more." M. Auguste, prompted by the deeply interested Czar, did ask more. "I see," the obedient seeress resumed, "torpedo boats secretly creeping out from the British ports. They do not openly fly the Japanese flag, but lurk among the English ships, with the connivance of the treacherous islanders. "The Baltic Fleet approaches. The torpedo boats, skulking behind the shelter of their friends, steal closer to the Russian ships. Then the brave Russian Admiral remembers his promise. Just in time to save his fleet from destruction, he signals to the British to retire. "They obstinately refuse. The Russian fleet opens fire. "I can see no more." The spirit of the seeress, it will be observed, broke off its revelations at the most interesting point, with the skill of a practised writer of serials. But the Czar, fairly carried away by excitement, insisted on knowing more. "Ask the spirit if there will be any foreign complications," he said. I had already remarked that our invisible companion showed a good deal of deference to the wishes of Nicholas II., perhaps in his character of Head of the Orthodox Church. After a little hesitation it rapped out: "The English are angry, but they are restrained by the fear of Germany. The German Michael casts his shield in front of Russia, and the islanders are cowed. I cannot see all that follows. But in the end I see that the Yellow Peril is averted by the joint action of Russia and Germany." This answer confirmed to the full my suspicions regarding the source of M. Auguste's inspiration. I believed firmly that there was a spirit present, but it was not the spirit of the deceased theosophist, rather of a monarch who is very much alive. The medium now professed to feel exhausted, and Madame Blavatsky was permitted to retire. I rose to accompany M. Auguste as soon as he made a move to retire. "If you will let me drive you as far as my hotel," I said to him, "I think I can show you something which will repay you for coming with me." The wizard looked me in the face for the first time, as he said deliberately: "I shall be very pleased to come." CHAPTER XX THE DEVIL'S AUCTION I said as little as possible during the drive homeward. My companion was equally silent. No doubt he, like myself, was bracing himself for a duel of wits. As soon as we were safe in my private room at the hotel, with a bottle of vodka and a box of cigars in front of us, I opened the discussion with my habitual directness. "I need not tell you, M. Auguste, that I have not invited you here to discuss questions of psychology. I am a politician, and it matters nothing to me whether I am dealing with a ghost or a man, provided I can make myself understood." M. Auguste bowed. "For instance, it is quite clear that the interesting revelations we have had to-night would not have been made without your good will. It is to be presumed, therefore, that if I can convince you that it is better to turn the Emperor's mind in another direction, you will refuse to make yourself the medium of further communications of that precise character." M. Auguste gave me an intelligent glance. "I am as you have just said, a _medium_," he replied with significant emphasis. "As such, I need not tell you, I have no personal interest in the communications which are made through me." I nodded, and took out my pocket-book, from which I extracted a hundred ruble-note (about $75). "I promised to show you something interesting," I remarked, as I laid it on the table. M. Auguste turned his head, and his lip curled slightly. "I am afraid my sight is not very good," he said negligently. "Is not that object rather small?" "It is merely a specimen," I responded, counting out nine others, and laying them beside the first. "Ah, now I fancy I can see what you are showing me," he admitted. "There is a history attached to these notes," I explained. "They represent the amount of a bet which I have just won." "Really! That is most interesting." "I now have another bet of similar nature pending, which I hope also to be able to win." "I am tempted to wish you success," put in the medium encouragingly. "The chances of success are so great that if you were a betting man I should be inclined to ask you to make a joint affair of it," I said. "My dear M. V----, I am not a bigot. I have no objection to a wager provided the stakes are made worth my while." "I think they should be. Well, I will tell you plainly, I stand to win this amount if the Baltic Fleet does not sail for another month." M. Auguste smiled pleasantly. "I congratulate you," he said. "From what I have heard the repairs will take at least that time." "But that is not all. This bet of mine is continuous. I win a similar stake for every month which passes without the fleet having left harbor." M. Auguste gazed at me steadily before speaking. "If your bet were renewable weekly instead of monthly, you might become quite a rich man." I saw that I was dealing with a cormorant. I made a hasty mental calculation. Half of one thousand rubles was about $375 a week, and the information I had led me to believe that Port Arthur was capable of holding out for another six months at least. To delay the sailing of the Baltic Fleet till then would cost roughly $10,000--say 15,000 rubles. I decided that neither England nor Japan would grudge the price. "I think your suggestion is a good one," I answered M. Auguste. "In that case, should you be willing to share the bet?" "I should be willing to undertake it entirely," was the response. The scoundrel wanted $20,000! Had I been dealing with an honest man I should have let him have the money. But he had raised his terms so artfully that I felt sure that if I yielded this he would at once make some fresh demand. I therefore shook my head, and began picking up the notes on the table. "That would not suit me at all," I said decidedly. "I do not wish to be left out altogether." M. Auguste watched me with growing uneasiness as I restored the notes one by one to my pocket-book. "Look here!" he said abruptly, as the last note disappeared. "Tell me plainly what you expect me to do." "I expect you to have a communication from your friend Madame Blavatsky, or any other spirit you may prefer--Peter the Great would be most effective, I should think--every time the Baltic Fleet is ready to start, warning 'Mr. Nicholas' not to let it sail." M. Auguste appeared to turn this proposal over in his mind. "And is that all?" he asked. "I shall expect you to keep perfect secrecy about the arrangement. I have a friend at Potsdam, and I shall be pretty sure to hear if you try to give me away." "Potsdam!" M. Auguste seemed genuinely surprised, and even disconcerted. "Do you mean to say that you didn't know you were carrying out the instructions of Wilhelm II.?" I demanded, scarcely less surprised. It was difficult to believe that the vexation showed by the medium was feigned. "Of course! I see it now!" burst from him. "I wondered what she meant by all that stuff about Germany. And I--a Frenchman!" It is extraordinary what unexpected scruples will display themselves in the most unprincipled knaves. Low as they may descend, there seems always to be some one point on which they are as sensitive as a Bayard. M. Auguste, of all men in the world, was a French patriot! It turned out that he was a fanatical Nationalist and anti-Semite. He had howled in anti-Dreyfusite mobs, and flung stones at the windows of Masonic temples in Paris. I was delighted with this discovery, which gave me a stronger hold on him than any bribe could. But I had noted the feminine pronoun in his exclamation recorded above. I did not think it referred to the revealing spirit. "You have been deceived by the woman who has given you your instructions," I remarked to him, when his excitement had subsided a little. "I fancy I can guess her name." "Yes. It is the Princess Y----," he confessed. Bewildering personality! Again, as I heard her name connected with an intrigue of the basest kind, a criminal conspiracy to influence the ruler of Russia by feigned revelations from the spirits of the dead, I recalled the sight I had last had of her, kneeling in her oratory, scourging herself before--my portrait! There was no longer any fear that M. Auguste would prove obdurate on the question of terms. He pocketed his first five hundred rubles, and departed, vowing that the Baltic fleet should never get farther than Libau, if it was in the power of spirits to prevent it. Desirous to relieve Lord Bedale's mind as far as possible I despatched the following wire to him the next morning: Sailing of Baltic Fleet postponed indefinitely. No danger for the present. Watch Germany. I sent a fuller account of the situation to a son of Mr. Katahashi, who was in England, nominally attached to the staff of the Imperial Bank, but really on business of a confidential character which it would be indiscreet on my part to indicate. I may say that I particularly cautioned the young Japanese to avoid any action calculated to give the least color to the German legends about warships being secretly manufactured in British yards to the order of the Mikado's Government. Every reader who has followed the course of the war with any attention will recollect the history of the fleet thus detained by my contrivance. Week after week, and month after month, the Baltic Fleet was declared to be on the point of departure. Time after time the Czar went on board to review it in person, and speak words of encouragement to the officers and crew. And every time, after everything had been pronounced ready, some mysterious obstacle arose at the last moment to detain the fleet in Russian waters. Journalists, naval experts, politicians and other ill-informed persons invented or repeated all sorts of explanations to account for the series of delays. Only in the very innermost circles of the Russian Court it was whispered that the guardian spirit of the great Peter, the founder of Russia's naval power, had repeatedly come to warn his descendant of disasters in store for the fleet, should it be permitted to sail. M. Auguste was earning his reward. CHAPTER XXI MY FUNERAL The extreme privacy with which I had managed my negotiation with M. Auguste completely baffled the plotters who were relying on the voyage of the Baltic Fleet to furnish a _casus belli_ between Russia and Great Britain. They realized, of course, that some powerful hand was interfering with their designs, and they were sufficiently intelligent to guess that that hand must be mine. But they were far from suspecting the method of my operations. They firmly believed that M. Auguste was still carrying out their instructions, and sowing distrust of England in the mind of Nicholas II. Indeed, on one occasion he informed me that the Princess Y---- had sent for him and ordered him not to frighten the Czar to such an extent as to make him afraid to let the fleet proceed to sea. Unable to detect and countermine me, it was natural that they should become impatient for my removal. Accordingly, I was not surprised to receive an urgent message from Sophia, late one evening, requesting me to come to her without delay. By this time our friendship, if such it could be called, had become so intimate that I visited her nearly every day on one pretext or another. Her greeting, as soon as I had obeyed the summons, showed me that a fresh development had taken place in the situation. "Andreas, the hour has come!" "The hour?" "For your removal. Petrovitch has been here. He suspects something. He has rebuked me severely for the delay." "Did you tell him I was not an easy man to kill?" "I told him anything and everything. He would not listen. He says they have lost confidence in me. He was brutal. He said----" "Well, what did he say?" "He said--" she spoke slowly and shamefacedly--"that he perceived it took a man to kill a man." I smiled grimly. "History tells us differently. But what then?" "To-morrow I shall no longer be able to answer for your life." "You think some one else will be appointed to dispose of me?" "I am sure that some one else has been appointed already. Most likely it is Petrovitch himself." "Well, I shall look out for him." I did not think it necessary to tell Sophia that I had been expecting something of this kind, and had made certain preparations. "It will be useless, Andreas. You do not know the man with whom you have to deal." "The ignorance may be mutual," I observed drily. The Princess became violently agitated. "You must let me save you," she exclaimed clasping her hands. "In what way?" "You must let me kill you _here_, to-night. "Don't you understand?" she pursued breathlessly. "It is absolutely necessary for your safety, perhaps for the safety of both of us, that they should think I have carried out my instructions. You must appear to die. Then they will no longer concern themselves about you, and you will be able to assume some other personality without being suspected." The scheme appealed to me strongly, all the more that it seemed as though it could be made to fit in very well with my own plans. "You are a clever woman, Sophia," I said cautiously. "How do you purpose to carry out your scheme? They will want to see my corpse, I suppose." She drew out the little key I have already described. "Come this way." I followed her through the bedroom as before to the door of the locked oratory. She opened the door and admitted me. By the light of the wax candles I saw what was surely one of the strangest sights ever presented to mortal eyes. It was myself, lying in state! On a high bier draped in white and black cloth, I lay, or, rather, my counterpart presentment in wax lay, wrapped and shrouded like a dead body, a branch of palm in the closed hands, and a small Russian coin resting on the lips, in accordance with a quaint custom which formerly prevailed in many lands. In spite of my habitual self-command I was unable to repress a cold shiver at this truly appalling spectacle. "Your stage management is perfect," I observed after a pause. "But will they be satisfied with a look only?" "I do not think so. It will be necessary for you to put on the appearance of death for a short time, till I have satisfied them. Afterward I can conceal you in here, while this--" she pointed to the ghastly figure--"is buried under your name." "Let us get back to the other room, before we talk about it," I urged. "This is not altogether a pleasant sight." As we passed out of the oratory I stealthily took note of the fastening of the door. The lock was on the outside only; in other words, if I permitted myself to be immured in the cell-like chamber, I should be a prisoner at the mercy of my charming friend. "And now, by what means do you purpose that I shall assume the appearance of death?" I inquired as soon as we had returned to the boudoir. The Princess opened a small cabinet, and produced a tiny stoppered bottle. "By swallowing this medicine," she answered. "I have had it specially prepared from a recipe given me ten years ago at a time when I thought of resorting to the same contrivance to escape from my taskmaster." I took the bottle in my hand, and examined it carefully. It bore no label, and the contents appeared perfectly colorless. "In five minutes after you have swallowed the contents of the bottle," Sophia explained, "you will begin to turn cold, at first in the feet and hands. As the cold mounts to the brain you will gradually lose consciousness, and become rigid. You will look as pale as if you were actually dead, and your heart will cease to beat." "And how long will this stupor last?" "About twenty-four hours, more or less, according to your constitution." I looked carefully and steadily into her eyes. She flushed and trembled violently, but did not quail. "What does it taste like?" I asked. "It is a little bitter." "I will take it in water, then." "You can take it in wine, if you like. I have some here." She moved to a small cupboard in the wall. "I shall tell them that I gave it to you in wine, in any case," she added. "I prefer water, thank you. May I fetch some from the next room?" "I will fetch it," she said hastily, going to the bedroom. On an ebony stand beside me there was a large china bowl containing a flowering plant in its pot. In a second I had removed the stopper, emptied the bottle into the space between the flower-pot and the outer bowl, and put the stopper back again. "Tell me," I said to the Princess as she hurried back with a carafe and tumbler, "have you thought how I am to get away from this house without exciting attention?" "It will be easy for me to procure you a dozen disguises. I am always going to masked balls. But are you in such a hurry to leave me?" "I shall find the air of your oratory rather confined, I am afraid." She hung her head in evident chagrin. "But where will you go?" she demanded. "Oh, that is all arranged. I have taken a small house and furnished it, in another name." "Where?" she asked breathlessly. "Perhaps I had better not tell you till this excitement is over. I must not burden you with too many of my secrets." Sophia's eyes filled with tears. "You distrust me still!" she cried. "But, after all, what does it matter? I have only to ask Petrovitch." "That will be quite unnecessary as well as useless. I pledge myself to tell you before I leave this place, and I have not favored M. Petrovitch with my new address." She smiled scornfully. "And do you believe that you have succeeded in taking a house in Petersburg without his knowledge? You do not know him, I tell you again. He has had you watched every hour of the day while you have been here." "Please credit me with a little resource, as well as your friend," I answered with some slight irritation. "I have no doubt the spies of M. Petrovitch have watched me pretty closely, but they have not been able to watch every person who has come in and out of the hotel. Two of my most capable assistants have been in Petersburg for the last month--since the day you hinted that my life was not quite safe, in fact." The woman before me looked completely overwhelmed. "One of them," I proceeded with cutting severity, "has taken the house I speak of. The other is watching over my personal safety at this moment." The Princess fairly gave way. Sinking on the couch behind her, she exclaimed in a faint voice: "You are a demon, not a man!" It was the finest compliment she could have paid me. "And now," I said carelessly, "to carry out your admirable little idea." The unhappy woman put up her hands, and turned away her head in sheer terror. I splashed some water into the tumbler, and then trickled in a small quantity afterward, to imitate the sound of adding the poison. This done I respectfully handed the bottle to my companion. "To our next meeting!" I called out lightly, as I lifted the tumbler to my lips and drained it. It was the Princess who swooned. Although I had not foreseen this weakness on her part I took advantage of it to draw the tiny key of the oratory from her bosom, and hide it in my mouth. I then touched the bell twice, the signal for the Princess's maid to appear. "Fauchette," I said, when she entered--for this was the assistant I had alluded to as watching over my personal safety--"Madame has just given me the contents of that stoppered bottle. Do you know anything about them?" Fauchette had made good use of her time since obtaining her situation. These things are so easily managed that I am almost ashamed to explain that a bribe to the former maid had brought about a convenient illness, and the recommendation of Fauchette as a temporary substitute. "Yes, Monsieur," she said quietly. "I filled the bottle with water this afternoon, in case of accident. I have preserved the previous contents, in case you should care to have them analyzed." "You have done well, very well, my girl." Fauchette blushed with pleasure. I do not often say so much to my staff. "Madame does not know that I had just emptied the bottle into that china bowl," I added carelessly. "It is useless to try to serve Monsieur; he does everything himself," murmured the poor girl, mortified. "Nonsense, Fauchette, I have just praised you. It is always possible that I may overlook something." Fauchette shook her head with an incredulous air. I have found it good policy to maintain this character for infallibility with my staff. It is true, perhaps, that I do not very often blunder. "And now," I went on, "it is time for the poison to take effect! As soon as I am dead, you will awake Madame." I lay down on another couch, and composed myself in a rigid attitude with my eyes closed. I did not believe, of course, that it would be possible to deceive a close observer, but I trusted to the wild emotions of the Princess to blind her to any signs of life. I heard Fauchette dart on her mistress with a well-acted scream, and sprinkle her face and neck with cold water. Sophia seemed to revive quickly. "Andreas!" I heard her gasp. "Where? What has become of him?" "M. Sterling has also fainted," the maid replied with assumed innocence. "Ha!" It was more like a shriek than a sob. I heard a hasty rustling of skirts, and then Sophia seemed to be kneeling beside me, and feeling for the beat of my heart. "Go, Fauchette! Send Gregory instantly to M. Petrovitch to inform him that M. Sterling has been taken ill in my house, and that I fear he is dead." The Princess began loosening my necktie. Had Fauchette been present I should have been able to point to this as a proof that I was not incapable of an occasional oversight. As a matter of fact, I had not anticipated this very natural action on Sophia's part. Yet it should have been evident that, were it only to keep up appearances before any one who might come to view my supposed corpse, she would be bound to free my neck. And I was wearing the locket which contained the portrait of my promised bride! I lay, really rigid with apprehension, while Sophia's caressing fingers tenderly removed the necktie, and began unfastening my collar and shirt. Suddenly I heard an ejaculation--at first striking the note of surprise and curiosity merely, but deepening to fear. In a moment the locket was lifted from my chest, and forced open with a metallic click. "Ah!--Ah!" She let the open locket drop from her fingers on my bare throat. Instantly it was clutched up again. I could picture the frenzied gaze of jealousy and hate in those burning eyes of deepest violet; I could actually feel the passionate breathing from between the clenched teeth of whitest ivory. "Miserable child!" she hissed, the hand that held the locket trembling so that I could feel it against my neck. "So _you_ have robbed me of him!" She paused, and then added, forcing out each word with a passion of distilled hate---- "But you shall never have him! He shall be mine! Mine! Mine, in the grave!" CHAPTER XXII A PERILOUS MOMENT I lay with every nerve strained to its utmost tension, listening for the least movement on the part of the maddened woman which might indicate she was about to stab me then and there. In the silence that followed, if she did not hear the beating of my heart it was only because her own stormy emotions had rendered her deaf and blind to everything else. For a time her rapid breathing continued to warm my uncovered neck. Then she snapped-to the locket and let it fall, and rose from my side to pace the floor of the room with swift, irregular steps. Fauchette, who must have been anxious to know how I was faring, now came back without waiting to be summoned. "Well?" the Princess demanded, halting in her promenade. "Gregory has gone for M. Petrovitch, Madame. Is there anything I can do?" "I have tried every restorative," came the answer. "See if you can detect any signs of life." The last command seemed to come as an afterthought. No doubt, Sophia wished to test her work before Petrovitch arrived. I was encouraged to think that she had no immediate intention of killing me; and as the maid bent over me I contrived to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "He is quite dead, Madame," the girl said, turning away. "Would you like to have the body carried into another room?" "No. Wait till M. Petrovitch comes," her mistress replied. "You can go." As my assistant withdrew I again became on the alert for any dangerous move on the part of the Princess. It was not long before I was conscious that the room had grown darker. I gathered that Sophia had switched off some of the lights in order to make it more difficult for Petrovitch to detect her fraud, and again I took courage. Some muttered words helped me to understand the plan of the desperate woman. "I will give him one chance. He shall choose. Men do not die for love in these days." There was little doubt that she intended to lock me up in her oratory and hold me a prisoner till I consented to sacrifice my faith to her Japanese rival. Satisfied that there was little risk of any immediate violence, I waited calmly for the arrival of Sophia's colleague, or master. The head of the Manchurian Syndicate lost no time on the way. Very soon I heard the door open and the familiar voice, with its slightly affected accent, saying, "Permit me to offer you the expression of my sincere regrets, dear Princess!--And my sincere congratulations," he added in a more business-like tone, as the door closed again. A sigh was the only audible response. "It has cost you something, I can see," the man's voice resumed soothingly. "That fact gives you a still stronger claim on our gratitude. I confess I began to fear seriously that you were deceiving us, and that would have been very dangerous." Another obscure sound, between a sigh and a sob, from the woman. "Now we can proceed with light hearts. Within three months from now Russia and Great Britain will be at war. I do not mind answering for it. There was only one man in Europe who could have prevented it, and he lies there!" "You would have it so! I still say it would have been enough to imprison him somewhere." "You talk foolishly, believe me, Princess. A man like that is not to be imprisoned. There is no jailer in the world who would venture to undertake to keep the famous A. V. under lock and key." "I would have undertaken it," came the answer. "I would have locked him in my oratory, the key of which never leaves my bosom." "Nevertheless if it was important to that man to steal it from you, it would not remain in your bosom very long." A startled cry interrupted the speaker, and told me that Sophia had made the fatal discovery of the loss of her key. I held my breath in the most dreadful suspense. Everything now depended on this woman. If she allowed the least hint, I knew that Petrovitch would never leave the room without at least an attempt to change my supposed trance into death. Fortunately the Princess was equal to the emergency. I heard her give a slight laugh. "I am punished for my assurance," she confessed. "I am not quite hardened, as you know; and when I realized that M. V---- was actually dead, I was obliged to pray for him. I have left the key in the door." "Go and fetch it, then." The tone in which these words were spoken was harsh. I heard Sophia going out of the room, and in an instant, with a single bound, as it seemed, the man was leaning over me, feeling my pulse, listening for my heart, and testing whether I breathed. "If I had brought so much as a knife with me, I would have made sure," I heard him mutter to himself. Fortunately Sophia's absence did not last ten seconds. She must have snatched up the first key that came to hand, that of a jewel-box most likely, and hurried back with it. Petrovitch seemed to turn away from me with reluctance. "You doubt me, it appears," came in angry tones from the Princess. "I doubt everybody," was the cool rejoinder. "You were in love with this fellow." "You think so? Then look at this." I felt the locket being picked up, and heard the click of the tiny spring. A coarse laugh burst from the financier. "So that is it! Woman's jealousy is safer than her sworn word, after all. Now I believe he _is_ dead." The Princess made no reply. Presently the man spoke again. "This must be kept a secret among ourselves, you understand. The truth is, I have exceeded my instructions a little. A certain personage only authorized detention. It appears he is like you in having a certain tenderness for this fellow--why, I can't think. At any rate his manner was rather alarming when we hinted that a coffin made the safest straight-jacket." It was impossible for me to doubt that it was the Kaiser whom this villain had insulted by offering to have me assassinated. I thanked Wilhelm II. silently for his chivalrous behavior. M. Petrovitch could have known little of the proud Hohenzollern whom he tempted. At the same time, it was a source of serious concern for me to know that, just as I had learned that my real opponent was my friend the Kaiser, so he in turn had acquired the knowledge that he had me against him. It had become a struggle, no longer in the dark, between the most resourceful of Continental sovereigns and myself, and that being so, I realized that I could not afford to rest long on my oars. From the deep breathing of the Princess, I surmised that she was choking down the rage she must have felt at the other's cynical depravity. For Sophia, though capable of committing a murder out of jealousy perhaps, was yet incapable of killing for reward. "Well," I heard Petrovitch say in the tone of one who is taking his leave, "I must send some one 'round to remove our friend." "Do not trouble, if you please. I will see to the funeral," came in icy tones from the Princess. "What, still sentimental! Be careful, my good Sophia Y----, you will lose your value to us if you give way to such weaknesses." I heard his steps move across the carpeted floor, and then with startling suddenness, the words came out: "Curse me if I can believe he _is_ dead!" My blood ran cold. But it turned out to be only a passing exclamation. At the end of what seemed to me minutes--they can only have been seconds--the footsteps moved on, and the door opened and closed. "Thank God!" burst from Sophia. Her next words were plainly an apostrophe to myself. "So you did not trust me after all!" I was within an ace of opening my eyes on the supposition that she had found me out, when I was reassured by her adding, this time to herself, "He must have done it when I fainted!" I saw that she was referring to my theft of the key. There was a soft rustle of silk on the floor, and I felt her hands searching in my pockets for the stolen key. "Fool! To think that I could outwit him!" she murmured to herself at last. She had taken some time to learn the lesson, however. CHAPTER XXIII A RESURRECTION AND A GHOST It was soon evident that the Princess Y---- had taken her new maid into her confidence to a certain extent. She must have rung for Fauchette without my hearing anything, for presently the door opened again, and I heard my assistant's voice. As the result of a hurried consultation between the two women, in which Fauchette played to perfection the part of a devoted maid who is only desirous to anticipate the wishes of her mistress, it was decided to wheel the sofa on which I lay into the oratory, and to bring the wax dummy into the Princess's bedroom, to lie in state till the next day. The arrangement did not take long to carry out. Partly from what I was able to overhear, and partly from the report afterward furnished to me by Fauchette, I am able to relate succinctly what took place. To begin with, I was left in the oratory, while the counterfeit corpse was duly arranged in the adjoining room. Unable to lock me in the smaller apartment, Sophia declared her intention of locking both the outer doors of the bedroom, one of which gave on a corridor, while the other, as the reader is aware, opened into the boudoir where the previous scene had taken place. The Princess retained one of these keys herself, entrusting the other to the maid, of course with the strictest injunctions as to its use. To keep up appearances before the household, the Princess arranged to pass the next few nights in another room on the same floor, which usually served as a guest chamber. It was explained to the servants that the death which had occurred had upset the nerves of their mistress, and rendered her own suite of rooms distasteful to her for the present. Fauchette, who thus became my jailer, brought me a supply of cold food and wine during the night. I had part of this provision under the altar of the oratory, to serve me during the following day. My cataleptic condition was supposed to endure for nearly twenty-four hours. The enforced seclusion was intensely irritating to a man of my temperament; but I could not evade it without revealing to Sophia that I had heard her confession, and thereby inflicting a deadly wound on a woman who loved me. Meanwhile the arrangements for my funeral had been pressed on. Already a telegram had appeared in the London papers announcing the sudden and unexpected death from heart-failure of the well-known English philanthropist, Mr. Melchisedak Sterling. One or two of the journals commented on the fact of Mr. Sterling's death having taken place while he was on a mission of peace to the Russian capital, and expressed a hope that his death would have a chastening effect on the War Party in Petersburg. My friend, the editor of the Peace Review, very generously sent a wreath, which arrived too late for the funeral but was laid on my grave. Unfortunately these newspaper announcements were taken seriously by my exalted employers, as well as by the enemies whom I wished to deceive, but this could not be helped. By noon the undertaker's men had arrived with my coffin. The Princess played upon their ignorance of English customs and burial rites to pretend that the work of coffining must be done by women's hands. In this way she and Fauchette were able to enclose the dummy in its wooden shell, leaving to the men only the task of screwing down the lid. The burial took place in the English cemetery. I am glad to say that the Princess contrived to avoid the mockery of a religious service by alleging that Mr. Sterling had belonged to a peculiar sect--the Quakers, I fancy--which holds such ceremonies to be worldly and unnecessary. I may add that I have since visited my grave, which is still to be seen in a corner of the cemetery. It is marked by a stone slab with an inscription in English. In the afternoon the faithful Fauchette persuaded her mistress to go out for a drive, to soothe her over-strained nerves. Before quitting the house, the Princess came in to take a last look at me. She lingered minute after minute, as though with some premonition that our next meeting would be under widely different circumstances. To herself, I heard her whisper, sighing softly: "Andreas! O Andreas! If I could sleep, or thou couldst never wake!" She crept away, and the better to secure me locked both the bedroom doors herself, and carried off the keys. On her return, two hours later, Sophia, with a look that told the watchful Fauchette of her uneasiness, hurried straight up-stairs, toward the door of the little oratory. She found it locked from the outside, with the key in the door. It had cost me something to break my pledge to the Princess Y---- that I would give her my new address before leaving her. But her unfortunate discovery of the portrait I wore around my neck and her plainly-declared intention to hold me a prisoner till she could shake my fidelity, had rendered it necessary for me to meet treachery with treachery. The secret service, it must always be borne in mind, has its own code of honor, differing on many points from that obtaining in other careers, but perhaps stricter on the whole. For instance, I can lay my hand on my heart and declare that I have never done either of two things which are done every day by men holding high offices and high places in the world's esteem. I have never taken a secret commission. And I have never taken advantage of my political information to gamble in stocks. The manner of my escape was simplicity itself. My assistant had not come to live with the Princess without making some preparations for the part she was to play, and these included the bringing with her of a bunch of skeleton keys, fully equal to the work of opening any ordinary lock. As soon as her mistress was safely out of the way, Fauchette came to receive my instructions. I told her that I did not intend to wait for my jailer's return. We discussed the best way for me to slip out, without obstruction from the servants, and I decided to take advantage of the superstition of the Russian illiterate class, by enacting the part of my own ghost. The report that I had been buried without any funeral service had already reached the household, and had prepared them for any supernatural manifestation. Fauchette first brought me a little powdered chalk, with which I smeared my face. I then put on a long flowing cloak and a sombrero hat, part of the wardrobe accumulated by the Princess in the course of her gaieties. I slipped a damp sponge into my pocket and directed the girl to lead the way. She went down-stairs a few yards in front of me, turned into the servants' part of the house and threw open the back door, which led out into a courtyard giving on a street used only by tradesmen's carts. At this hour of the day it was deserted. I followed cautiously in Fauchette's wake, and got as far as the back door without meeting any interruption. But at that point, the porter, who must have been roused by an unfamiliar step--though I understand he swore afterward that the passage of the ghost had been absolutely noiseless--came out and stood in the doorway. Without hesitating for an instant I assumed an erect posture and advanced swiftly toward him with my whitened face well displayed. The fellow gave vent to a half-articulate call which died down in his throat, and bolted back into his room uttering yell after yell. Fifteen seconds later I was out in the street, sponging the chalk from my face. And five minutes after that I was comfortably seated in a hired droshky, on my way to a certain little house in the seafaring quarter of the city, which possessed, among other advantages, that of commanding an exceedingly fine view of the Admiralty Pier. CHAPTER XXIV A SECRET EXECUTION I now come to a part of my chronicle which I plainly foresee must expose me to grave criticism. To that criticism it is no part of my purpose to attempt any reply. In the long run, I have found, men's minds are not much affected by argument and advocacy. Facts tell their own story, and men's judgments are usually the result of their personal prejudices. For that reason I shall confine myself to relating facts. I have already told the story of my murder--for such it was in the intent--by Petrovitch. I shall now tell the story of the justice meted out by me on the assassin. As soon as I was safely lodged in my house on the Alexander Quay, I despatched my assistant, a clever young Frenchman named Breuil, with a message to the promoter of the Manchurian Syndicate--the real moving spirit of that War clique in which even the bellicose grand dukes had only secondary parts. The wording of the message had been carefully calculated to arouse curiosity, but not apprehension. "The agent of a foreign Power," Breuil was instructed to say to this self-styled patriot, "with very large funds at his disposal, desires to see you in strict secrecy." The bait took. Petrovitch, naturally concluding that he was to be offered a heavy bribe for some act of treachery to Russia, greedily accepted the invitation. The infatuated man did not take even the ordinary precaution of asking for guarantees. He consented to accompany Breuil at once, merely asking how far he had to go. This recklessness was the result of his supposed triumphant crime. Believing that I was safely interred in the English cemetery, he thought there was no one left for him to fear. On the way he did his best to extract some information out of my assistant. But Breuil returned the same answer to all his questions and hints: "I am under orders not to converse with you, monsieur." The doomed man was in good spirits as the droshky put him down at the door of my house. "Decidedly an out-of-the-way retreat!" he commented gaily. "I should hardly be able to find my way here again without your assistance!" The silent Breuil merely bowed, as he proceeded to open the street door with a latch key. Perhaps Petrovitch had been a little more nervous than he allowed to appear. When he noticed that his escort simply closed the door on the latch, without locking or bolting it further, he said in a tone of relief: "You are not much afraid of being visited by the police, I see." Breuil, as silent as ever, led the way into a back parlor, overlooking the Neva, where I was waiting to receive my visitor. The room was plainly furnished as a study, and I had placed myself in an arm-chair facing the window, so that my back was turned to the door as Petrovitch entered. I pretended to be writing furiously, as a pretext for not turning my head till the visitor had seated himself. Breuil said quietly, "M. Petrovitch is here," and went out of the room. As the door closed I tossed away my pen and turned around, facing my assassin. "I am pleased to see you, M. Petrovitch." "Monsieur V----!" I thought he would have lost his senses. His whole countenance changed. He clung to his chair, and his eyes were fixed on me with an expression of panic. So complete was his collapse that he did not attempt to speak or excuse himself. I saw that he was hardly in a condition to listen to anything I had to say. "I fear you are unwell, M. Petrovitch. Allow me to offer you a little brandy." The wretched man watched me with bewildered looks, as I took a bottle and glasses from a cupboard and helped first him and then myself. "It is quite wholesome, I assure you." As I said the words I raised my own glass to my lips and sipped. A choking cry escaped from the author of the war. He seized the glass I had set before him and feverishly drained it. I saw that he was burning to know by what means I had escaped the fate prepared for me. But I had no object in gratifying his curiosity, and mere boasting is not a weakness of mine. Steadfastly preserving the tone of a business interview between men who understand each other, I went on to say: "I am here, as you know, in the joint interests of England and Japan." My murderer nodded faintly. I could see him making a tremendous effort to control his nerves, and enter into conversation with me on my own terms. "I think I should be glad of a little more brandy. Thank you!--I am not at all myself." I shook my head compassionately. "You should be careful to avoid too much excitement," I said. "Any sudden shock is bad for a man with your nerves." The promoter gasped. The situation was clearly beyond him. "You," I went on in my most matter-of-fact tone, "on the contrary, are acting on behalf of Germany." "Who says so!" He was beginning to speak fiercely; but his eye met mine, and the words died on his lips. "We will say I dreamed it, if you like," I responded drily. "I have very remarkable dreams sometimes, and learn a great deal from them. "To confine ourselves to business. I have caused the sailing of this Baltic Fleet to be put off, because----" "You--have caused it!" The interruption burst from him in spite of himself. I affected to shrug my shoulders with a certain annoyance. "Your opinion of my powers does not seem to be a very high one, unfortunately," I remarked with irony. "It would be better if you accepted me as a serious antagonist, believe me." Petrovitch lowered his eyes in confusion, as he muttered, "I apologize, Monsieur V----. I have blundered, as I now perceive." "Let us resume. I was about to say that I had prevented the sailing of this fleet, because I feared that its voyage might be marked by some incident likely to bring Great Britain and Russia into collision." The financier raised his head and watched me keenly. "You, yourself, M. Petrovitch, have been active, I believe, in preparing the mind of the Czar and the Russian public for something of the sort. Doubtless you have not done so without very good grounds." "My information leads me to think that a flotilla of torpedo boats is being kept ready in the English ports for a night attack on our fleet during its progress through the North Sea." I smiled disdainfully. "That is a false report. I have asked you to call here in the hope that I might find you ready to assist me in discrediting it." The Russian continued to watch me out of his narrow eyes. "And, also," I added, "to assist me in preventing any attempt to give color to it." "I am not sure that I understand you, Monsieur V----." "That is quite possible. I will speak more plainly. There are some prophets who take a little trouble to make their prophesies come true. I wish to know whether you and your friends have determined that this particular prophesy shall come true--perhaps to fulfill it yourselves?" Petrovitch frowned and compressed his lips. "So that is why you got me here?" "I wished to see," I said blandly, "if it was possible for me to offer you terms which might induce you to alter your views altogether--in short, to stop the war." The financier looked thunderstruck. "Monsieur V----, you don't know what you ask! But you--would a million rubles tempt you to come over, to be neutral, even?" "I am a member, by adoption, of the imperial family of Japan," I replied laconically. Petrovitch was past surprise. If I had informed him that I was the Mikado in disguise, I think he would have taken it as a matter of course. "This war is worth ten millions to me," he confessed hoarsely. I shook my head with resignation. "The price is too high. We must be enemies, not friends, I perceive." The author of the war, who had regained his self-possession, did not blanch at these words. "I regret it," he said with a courteous inclination. "You have reason to." He gave me a questioning glance. "Up to the present I have been on the defensive," I explained. "I dislike violent measures. But from this moment I shall hold myself at liberty to use them." "I am afraid I have gone rather too far," the promoter hesitated. "You have drugged me. You have robbed me. You have murdered me." "You are alive, however," he ventured to retort with an impudent smile. "Unfortunately," I went on sternly, "in murdering me you exceeded your instructions." "How----" "I dreamed that I heard you tell your accomplice so," I put in, without giving him a chance to speak. He ceased to meet my gaze. "You are therefore not even a political criminal. You are a common felon. As such I warn you that I shall execute you without notice, and without reprieve." The Russian scowled fiercely. "We will see about that," he blustered. "I have a loaded revolver in my pocket." I waved my hand scornfully. "Undeceive yourself, George Petrovitch. I am not proposing a duel. I cannot be expected to fight with a condemned murderer. I sentence you to death--and may the Lord have mercy on your soul." "By what right?" he demanded furiously. "I am accredited by the Emperor of Japan to the Emperor of Russia. This house is Japanese soil. Farewell!" Petrovitch rose from his chair, wavering between indignation and alarm. "I shall defend myself!" he exclaimed, edging slowly toward the door. "You will do better to confess yourself. Is there no prayer that you wish to say?" The Russian smiled incredulously. "You seem very confident," he sneered. I saw that it was useless to try to rouse him to a sense of his peril. I pointed to the door, and pressed a knob on the wall. The murderer made two steps from me, laid his fingers on the door-handle--and dropped dead instantly. CHAPTER XXV A CHANGE OF IDENTITY I now approach the crucial portion of my narrative. The incidents already dealt with, though not without a certain interest, perhaps, for those who value exact information about political events, are comparatively unimportant, and have been given here chiefly in order to inspire confidence in what follows. At all events, their truth is not likely to be disputed, and I have not thought it necessary, therefore, to insist on every corroborative detail. But I am now about to enter on what must be considered debatable ground. I had taken the little house on the Alexander Quay, as the reader will have guessed, as a post of observation from which to watch the proceedings of the Russian Ministry of Marine, more particularly with regard to the fleet under the command of Admiral Rojestvensky. It is my subsequent observations and discoveries which compel me, greatly to my regret, to give a direct contradiction to the gallant Admiral's version of what took place in the North Sea on the night of Trafalgar Day, 1904. It is for that reason that I desire to exercise particular care in this part of my statement. Such care is the more incumbent on me, inasmuch as I was requested by the British Government to furnish a confidential copy of my evidence in advance, for the use of the members of the international court which sat in Paris to inquire into this most mysterious affair. The following chapters should be read, therefore, as the sworn depositions of a witness, and not as the carelessly worded account of a journalist or popular historian. The electrocution of the murderer, Petrovitch, already described, furnished me with a valuable opportunity which I was quick to seize. I have not extenuated this act, and I will not defend it. I content myself with recording that this man had been the principal instrument in promoting the Russo-Japanese war, and the principal obstacle to peace. In this he was acting as the paid agent of a foreign Power, and was therefore guilty of high treason to his own country. On these grounds my execution of him, although irregular at the time, has since been formally ratified by the highest tribunal of the Russian Empire, the Imperial Council of State. A justification which I value still more, consists in the fact that the removal of this man proved the turning point in the history of the war. Within a month of his death I had the satisfaction to be made the medium of an informal overture for peace. The negotiations thus opened have proceeded with great secrecy, but before these lines meet the public eye, I have every hope that the calamitous struggle in Manchuria will have been suspended indefinitely. To return: Owing to the secret life led by the deceased man, it was some time before his absence from his usual haunts excited remark. When it became evident that something must have happened to him, people were still slow to suspect that he had come to a violent end. Many persons believed that he had been ruined by the ill-success of the war, and had gone into hiding from his creditors. Others supposed that he had been secretly arrested. Some of his fellow-plotters in the Russian capital imagined that he had fled to Germany to escape the penalty of his treason. In Germany, on the other hand, I afterward learned, he was supposed to have been sent to Siberia by order of the Czar. For weeks the "Disappearance of M. Petrovitch" was the general topic of discussion in the newspapers and in private circles; but no one came near guessing the truth. There was one person who must have divined from the first what had happened. But she held her tongue. So far as I could gather from the reports which continued to reach me from Fauchette, the Princess Y---- had sunk into a lethargy after my evasion. She seemed to wish only to be left alone to brood, perhaps to mourn. The only sign she gave was by depositing a wreath on the empty grave in the English cemetery, a wreath which bore the solitary word, "Remembrance." In the meanwhile I had gratifying evidence that the loss of the chief conspirator had completely disorganized the schemes of the plotters in the Ministry of Marine. My first proceeding, after disconnecting the powerful battery which I had installed in my house for the purpose of the execution, was to summon my assistant Breuil. With his aid, the corpse was stripped and sewn up in a sheet, together with some heavy weights. In the middle of the night it was committed to the waters of the Neva, almost within sight and sound of the fleet. The papers which we found in his clothes were not numerous or important. But there was one which I thought worth preserving. It was a passport, made out in the name of the deceased, issued by the Russian Foreign Office, and viséd by the German Ambassador. This passport I still have in my possession. I now disclosed to my assistant a plan which had been in my own mind for some time, though, true to my principle of never making an unnecessary confidence, I had not previously mentioned it to him. "I have decided," I told him, "to assume the personality of Petrovitch." Breuil stared at me in consternation. It is only fair to say that he had not been with me very long. I could see that some objection was trembling on the tip of his tongue. He had learned, however, that I expect my staff not to criticize, but to obey. "You may speak," I said indulgently, "if you have anything to say." "I was about to remark, sir, that you are not in the least like Petrovitch." "Think again," I said mildly. He gave me an intelligent look. "You are much about the same height!" he exclaimed. "Exactly." "But his friends, who see him every day--surely they cannot be deceived? And then his business--his correspondence--but perhaps you are able to feign handwriting?" I smiled. The good Breuil had passed from one extreme to the other. Instead of doubting me, he was crediting me too much. I proceeded to explain. "No, as you very properly suggest, I could not hope to deceive Petrovitch's friends, nor can I imitate his hand. But remember, that in a few days Petrovitch will have disappeared. What will have become of him, do you suppose?" Breuil was still puzzled. I had to make my meaning still plainer. "He will be in concealment--that is to say, in disguise." Breuil threw up his hands in a gesture of admiration. "As the disguised Petrovitch I may manage to pass very well, more particularly as I shall be meeting people who have never seen the real Petrovitch." Breuil did not quite understand this last observation. "I am going," I exclaimed, "on board the Baltic Fleet." "Sir, you are magnificent!" I frowned down his enthusiasm. Compliments are compliments only when they come from those who pay us, not from those whom we pay. "Go and procure me the uniform of a superintendent of naval stores. And ascertain for me where Captain Vassileffsky usually passes his evenings." Captain Vassileffsky was the naval officer who had been present on the occasion when I was drugged at Petrovitch's table. CHAPTER XXVI TRAPPED The clock was striking eight as I entered the restaurant of the Two-Headed Eagle, in the seaport of Revel on the Gulf of Finland, about a week after the mysterious disappearance of Petrovitch had become the talk of Petersburg. Picking out a table at which an officer in the uniform of a Russian naval captain was already seated, I went up to it, and sat down in front of him with the formal bow prescribed by etiquette in the circumstances. The ships intended to sail to the relief of Port Arthur were lying at this time some at Revel and others at Libau on the Baltic. From time to time their departure was officially announced for a certain date, reviews were held, and one or two preliminary trips had been undertaken. But each time some unseen obstacle was interposed, and M. Auguste continued to draw his weekly stipend. Nevertheless it was beginning to be evident that the game of see-saw could not go on forever. Autumn was approaching, the nation was becoming impatient, and the scoffs of the foreign press were severely galling the naval pride of Russia. I had picked up a certain amount of information in the capital itself, where a great number of the officers were on leave. But I wished to get in direct touch with the one man who, I believed, was most likely to be in the confidence of Petrovitch, and, finding there was no chance of his coming to Petersburg, I had been obliged to make the journey to Revel. Vassileffsky acknowledged my bow with cordiality, at the same time fixing his dark, wicked eyes on me with a look which I well understood. I was wearing the uniform which I had ordered my assistant to provide me with, and the Captain had been quick to take note of it. It may be said that the most valuable part of a naval officer's income in Russia is derived from the peculation of government stores. To carry on this lucrative system of plunder there is always a good understanding between officials of the Stores Department and the combatant officers. Captain Vassileffsky now studied my face like a man expecting to receive some proposal of the kind. I, on my side, made it my business to say as little as possible to him till dinner was over. Then I called for a magnum of champagne, and invited my companion to fill a tumbler. He did so readily enough, and I gave him the toast, "To the Emperor who wishes us well!" Vassileffsky started, and gave me a penetrating look. He did not venture to put a question to me, however, and contented himself with drinking the toast in silence. Determined not to say anything as long as the Captain remained sober, I plied him with champagne in increasing quantities, while taking as little as possible myself. On his side Vassileffsky was equally reserved. He saw, of course, that I had a special object in courting his friendship, and was cunning enough to let me make the first advance. As soon as I thought the wine had had time to confuse his faculties, I leaned forward and whispered, "I've got something to say to you about Petrovitch." The Captain looked at me eagerly. "Do you know where he is?" "Not so loud. Yes. He has had to disguise himself." I spoke in a muffled tone, which Vassileffsky imitated in his response. "Where is he? I want to see him very badly." "I know. He wants to see you. He is here in Revel." "In Revel! Isn't that dangerous?" "It would be if he weren't so well disguised. You, yourself, wouldn't know him." Vassileffsky looked incredulous. "I bet I should." "Done with you! What in?" "A dozen magnums." "Pay for them, then. _I'm Petrovitch._" The Captain started, shook himself, and peered drunkenly into my face. "I don't believe it." "Read that then." I drew out the passport, and spread it before him. The Russian spelled his way through it, and nodded solemnly at the end. "Yes, that's all right. You must be Petrovitch, I suppose. But you don't look like him." "Didn't I tell you I was disguised. I had to clear out in a hurry. Some one's been denouncing me to Nicholas." Vassileffsky looked frightened. His eye sought the door, as though he no longer felt at ease in my company. "You needn't be afraid," I assured him. "No one suspects you." "Well, what do you want?" he asked sullenly. "I want you to take me on board your ship." An angry frown crossed his face. "You want me to hide you from the police!" "Nonsense. The police are all right. They want me to get away. They could have put their hands on me long ago if they had wanted to." "Then why have you come here?" "I told you. I want to have a talk with you about our plans." "The plan is all right. But I want to know when we're to sail." "I'm doing all I can. It's only a question of weeks now." Vassileffsky looked hard at me again, bent across the table, and whispered a word which I failed to understand. Something in his face warned me that it was a password. I recovered myself from my momentary confusion and smiled. "The word's changed," I said with an air of authority. "It's _North Sea_ and _Canal_." The Russian seemed satisfied. "Well," he said, stumbling to his feet, "if we're going on board we'd better go." "Don't forget the magnums," I put in, as I rose in my turn. The reckoning was settled, and the champagne ordered to follow us down to the boat. Vassileffsky nearly lost his footing as we got out into the fresh air, and caught hold of my arm. "You'll have to lead me," he said, speaking thickly. "Straight along the street, and down the first turning on the quay." We walked along, arm-in-arm, my companion appearing to become more helpless every minute. As we emerged from the narrow lane which conducted us to the waterside, the lights of the harbor burst into view. There on the tide lay a long line of stately battleships, cruisers and dark, low-lying torpedo boats, their riding lights flashing and twinkling in a thousand reflections on the waves. A drunken hail from the Captain was responded to by a respectful hail from a Russian petty officer, who was lounging at the head of some stone steps. He came forward and assisted his commanding officer down and into the launch which waited below. I followed, and the bottles of champagne were handed in afterward. Vassileffsky seized the tiller with more energy than he had seemed capable of, and headed the launch for a great battleship, the _Beresina_. In a few minutes we were alongside. A smart landing stage and ladder brought us up on to the deck, and as soon as our feet touched it, Captain Vassileffsky, suddenly drawing himself up, said in distinct and sober tones, "Consider yourself under arrest, if you please----" I was a prisoner on board a Russian man-of-war! CHAPTER XXVII THE BALTIC FLEET Fortunately I am accustomed to face emergencies without losing my presence of mind. The manner of Vassileffsky had prepared me for some display of suspicion on his part, though I hardly anticipated his procedure would be so theatrical. Fixing him with my sternest look, I responded, "Captain Vassileffsky, I do not think you quite understand what you are doing. I will talk to you in the morning, when you are more yourself." He drew back, considerably disconcerted. "Very well, I will listen to what you have to say in the morning. In the meantime you will be under a guard." I shrugged my shoulders with a disdainful smile. "Be good enough to let me see my quarters," I said. More and more abashed, the Captain summoned one of his officers, and gave him some instructions. "Follow me, sir," said the lieutenant. I walked after him with perfect self-possession. "I do not wish to make a fuss to-night, as Captain Vassileffsky is not himself," I said haughtily, as we drew out of hearing. "But you will understand that unless I receive an apology in the morning, I shall complain to his majesty the Czar, by whose orders I am here." The lieutenant looked badly frightened. "It is not my fault, as you can see, sir. I am only obeying orders. Will you accept my own berth for the night, sir?" I thanked him and entered a small, comfortably-fitted state-room. With profuse apologies, he turned the key and left me to my own reflections. I slept soundly, rocked by the tide of the Finland Gulf. In the morning my jailer came to wake me. "Captain Vassileffsky presents his compliments, and asks you to breakfast with him in his cabin, in half an hour." This message was a welcome proof to me that my bluff had produced the desired effect. I accepted the invitation as if it was a matter of course. I dressed, and went to the cabin where Vassileffsky awaited me. "Are we friends or foes this morning?" I called out with a good-humored laugh, as I greeted him. The Russian looked dull and nervous. "I hope all will be well," he muttered. "Let us have something to eat before we talk." He might have said, something to drink, for his own breakfast was mainly of champagne. I, myself, made a point of eating heartily, and drank only coffee. "Now, Vassileffsky," I said in authoritative tones, "to business. First of all, you want some money." It was a guess, but a fairly safe one. Without waiting for the astonished man to reply, I took out my pocket-book. "How much can you do with till the fleet sails?" I asked, still in the same matter-of-fact tone. Fairly nonplussed, the Captain blurted out, "I should like two thousand." I shook my head. "I can let you have only a thousand now, but you shall have the balance this day week." I counted the thousand rubles, and handed them to him. "They are grumbling, rather, in Berlin over the expense." It was, of course, my object to give Vassileffsky no opening for a cross-examination, but to take it for granted that we were on confidential terms. At the word "Berlin" he opened his eyes pretty wide. "Does this money come from Germany?" he exclaimed, half-withdrawing his hand. I affected surprise in my turn. "You have not received any information at all, apparently! My message must have miscarried. Didn't the Princess see you?" Vassileffsky looked still more surprised. His demeanor taught me a good deal. I saw that Petrovitch had not trusted him very far. The financier had evidently kept all the threads of the intrigue in his own hands, as far as possible. So much the better, I reflected. His removal would disorganize matters even more thoroughly than I had ventured to hope. "What Princess?" the Captain asked. "The Princess Y----, of course." He brightened up a little, as though this name, at all events, was familiar. "No, she has not been here." "One can never trust these women," I muttered aloud. "She has not been at all the same since the death of her Englishman." "Of Sterling, do you mean?" "Yes. You heard of it, I suppose?" Vassileffsky grinned. "Rather sudden, wasn't it?" I smiled meaningly, as I retorted, "You remember he fainted rather unexpectedly that night he dined with me." A look of relief broke out on Vassileffsky's face, as I thus referred to an incident which he naturally supposed could be known only to Petrovitch. "My dear fellow, I beg a thousand pardons for my stupid conduct last night," he burst out. "But you must admit that your disguise is extraordinary." "Not a word!" I returned. "It is always better to err on the side of distrust. Besides, I wished to spend a night on your ship in any case. Your crew can be thoroughly depended on, if I am any judge." "They would bombard the Tower of London, if I gave the word," boasted Vassileffsky. It is extraordinary how widely the belief prevails on the Continent of Europe that the London Tower is still a fortress, charged with the protection of the British capital. "At all events, they will not be frightened by the sight of the Union Jack?" I returned. The Russian officer gave me an alarmed glance. "You do not mean--you are not asking us to fire on the British fleet?" "No, no," I reassured him. "Ah, that is all right. For the moment I confess you frightened me. They say we shall have to pass Admiral Beresford!" "What are you prepared to do?" I asked, concealing my deep interest in the reply. Vassileffsky's manner became slightly reproachful. "You did not bargain with me to attack an armed ship," he said in the tone of one who reminds another of his agreement. "It was understood that we were to attack merchantmen, like the Vladivostockers." At last I had a direct confirmation of my suspicions. "And what is the tone of the fleet generally?" I inquired. "I have done my best to make them all of the same mind. They will do their best, depend on it. I think there will be a few English vessels mysteriously lost at sea during the next two or three months! The prize courts cannot always be depended on." By an effort I restrained my indignation at these atrocious hints. The Baltic Fleet was about to seek the open sea, secretly intending to miss no chance of sinking a British merchantman that should be unlucky enough to cross its path. It was with a feeling of chagrin that I perceived it would be useless to send any message to Lord Bedale of what was in preparation. On certain subjects the British people are deaf and blind. They believe that all foreign statesmen are as high-minded as a Gladstone, and all foreign officials as scrupulous and truthful as the Chevalier Bayard himself. Captain Vassileffsky continued, "Our men are badly scared by reports of the Japanese plans. It is supposed that they have torpedo boats lurking in the English ports. Hull is said to be full of them." "Why, Hull?" Vassileffsky gave me a wink. "Hull is the great fishing center. Whole fleets of traders come out from there to the fishing banks in the North Sea. We are going to stir them up a bit." The outlines of the plot became every moment more clear. "On what pretext?" I asked. The Russian answered me without noticing that I was not so well informed as himself. "Oh, we shall find pretexts enough, you bet. For one thing, we shall signal them to clear out of the way, and when they have their trawl nets down and can't move! That will be lively. There will be a collision or two, I shouldn't wonder." "But isn't that against the rule of the road?" Though not a seaman, I had always heard that a vessel in motion is bound to avoid one that is at rest. I knew, moreover, that a steamship was bound to make way for a sailing vessel. Vassileffsky cursed the rule of the road. "It will be a question of evidence," he exclaimed. "My word against a dirty fisherman's. What do you say?" I pretended to be thoroughly satisfied. Still, knowing what I did of the Russian character, I had some hope that the Captain was boasting in order to impress me, and that he would not really dare to run down a British vessel within reach of the shores of England. Our conversation was interrupted by a gun. As the report died away, a junior officer ran down the companionway, helter-skelter, and burst into the cabin. "Something's up, sir," he cried to his commander. "They are signaling from the Admiral's ship." Vassileffsky darted up the steps and on to the bridge, and I followed. The Baltic fleet presented a striking spectacle. Every vessel was busily reporting the signals from the flag ship, the launches were dashing to and fro, and there was every sign of bustle and activity. The signal officer read out Admiral Rojestvensky's order: "The fleet will proceed to Libau to-day _en route_ to the East. Anchors will be weighed at noon. By order of the Czar." M. Auguste had failed me at last! With the frightful boasts of Vassileffsky still ringing in my ears, I felt that I must make one effort to stay its departure. "This news compels me to return to Petersburg immediately," I told the Captain. "Have the goodness to put me ashore at once." For a moment or two the Russian made no answer. I glanced at him curiously. His face had gone suddenly livid. His limbs were trembling. He gave me the dull look of a man stupefied by fear. "The Japanese!" he ejaculated in a thick voice. I seized him by the arm. "Are you pretending?" I whispered. He gave me a savage glance. "It's true!" he said. "Those devils will be up to something. It's all over with the fleet. No one believes we shall ever see Port Arthur." Grave and pre-occupied, I went ashore and caught a fast train to Petersburg. It was late when I got to the little house on the Alexander Quay. The faithful Breuil received me with a serious face. "Fauchette is here," he announced. "Fauchette?" "Yes. She has some news for you." "Let me see her." I strode in front to my study, where I was immediately joined by the maid, who appeared not a little alarmed. I never like to see my assistants agitated. "Sit down, my good girl," I said soothingly. "Do not be afraid; I know what pains you take to serve me. Now, what is it?" "Madame has dismissed me." I had feared as much. "On what grounds?" "She gave none, except that she was leaving home." I pricked up my ears. "Did she tell you where she was going?" "Yes, to her estates in the country." "It was a lie, I suppose. She had come to suspect you, had she not?" "Since Monsieur's escape, I fear yes." "And have you ascertained----?" "The Princess has left Petersburg by the midday train for----" "For?" I broke in impatiently. "For Berlin." I rang the bell. Breuil appeared. "Have you got the tickets?" I asked. "Yes, sir." "And my dress as a pilot of the Kiel Canal?" "It is packed." "And what time does the next train leave?" "In two hours from now." "Good. And now, my children, we will have supper." CHAPTER XXVIII ON THE TRACK As the really exciting moment of the protracted struggle drew near, I summoned all my energies to meet it. I alighted in Berlin armed only with two weapons, the passport made out in the name of Petrovitch, and a fairly accurate knowledge of the schemes, or at all events the hopes, of the German Government. From the first beginning of my long investigation, all the clues I had picked up had led steadily in one direction. The great disorganized Empire of the Czar's, with its feeble-willed autocrat, its insubordinate grand dukes, its rival ministers pulling different ways, and its greedy officials whose country was their pocket, had been silently and steadily enfolded in the invisible web of German statecraft. The brilliant personality of Wilhelm II had magnetized the vacillating, timorous Nicholas. Count Bülow had courted the Russian Foreign Office with the assiduous arts of a lover, and his wooing had been crowned by complete success. Through Petrovitch the grand dukes had been indirectly bribed, and the smaller fry like M. Auguste had been bought outright. Even the Army and Navy had been cajoled, or bought, or terrorized by pretended revelations of Japanese designs. Russia had become a supple implement in the hands of the German Kaiser, the sovereign who for nearly twenty years had been striving toward one goal by a hundred different crooked paths. It was evident that the unexplained disappearance of Petrovitch must have struck consternation into his employers. I suspected that the Princess Y---- had been summoned to Berlin to throw light on the event, and possibly to be furnished with instructions which would enable her to take over the dead man's work. My position was now peculiarly difficult. I wished to get in touch with the principals for whom Petrovitch had acted, but to avoid, if possible, meeting any one who had known him personally. Above all, I was determined not to risk an encounter with Sophia. She knew that I was still alive, and I feared that her feminine intuition, quickened by love, would penetrate through whatever disguise I might adopt. Under these circumstances I decided to begin by approaching Herr Finkelstein, the head of the imperial Secret Service in Berlin. This man was an old crony of mine. While a magnificent organizer of espionage, he was a poor observer himself, and I had already succeeded on one occasion in imposing myself on him under a false identity. I had brought with me the papers which I had obtained by bribery from the police agent Rostoy, representing me as an inspector in the secret police of the Russian Empire. Wearing my pilot's dress, but carrying these and other papers in my pocket, I presented myself at Finkelstein's office, and asked to see him. I was shown in first, as I had expected, to Finkelstein's secretary, who asked me my business. "I can tell that only to the Herr Superintendent himself," I said. "If you will let him know that I have just come from Petersburg, I am sure he will receive me." The secretary seemed to think so too. He went straight into his chief's room and came out immediately to fetch me in. As soon as I found myself alone with the head of the German service, I said quietly, "I have brought you a message from M. Petrovitch." "Petrovitch!" exclaimed the Superintendent, surprised out of his usual caution. "But he is dead!" "You have been misinformed," I replied in an assured tone. Finkelstein looked at me searchingly. "My informant does not often make mistakes," he observed. "The Princess is deceived this time, however," was my retort. It was a fresh surprise for the Superintendent. "The Princess! Then you know?" He broke off short, conscious that he was making an admission. "The Princess Y---- having left Petersburg, it was natural to suppose that she had come here to consult you," I answered modestly, not wishing to appear too well informed. Finkelstein frowned. "You have not yet told me who you are," he reminded me. I produced the forged papers. "I am an inspector attached to the Third Section, as you will see. I must inform you, however, that I am not here with the knowledge of my superiors." The German gave a glance at the papers, which were similar to others which he must have had presented to him from time to time. "That is all satisfactory," he said, as he returned them to me. "But you say that you have a message from M. Petrovitch?" "He had no opportunity of giving me any but this," I responded, producing the passport. This time Finkelstein seemed really satisfied. "It is clear that you know something about him, at least," he remarked. "I will listen to what you have to say." "M. Petrovitch is confined in Schlüsselburg." The name of the dreaded fortress, the last home of so many political prisoners, caused Finkelstein a shock. "_Gott im Himmel!_ You don't say so! How did he get there? Tell me everything." "He does not know from what quarter the blow came. The only person he can think of who might have denounced him is the Princess herself." "The Princess Y----?" "Exactly." The German looked incredulous. "But they were hand in glove. The Princess was his best agent." "True. Unfortunately there is always one source of danger where a woman is concerned--she cannot control her affections. It appears that M. Petrovitch ordered her to remove a certain Englishman, a spy of some kind, who was giving trouble, and Madame Y---- was attached to the fellow. She carried out her orders, but M. Petrovitch fears that she has taken revenge on him." Finkelstein gave a superior smile. "I can dispose of that suspicion," he said confidently. "The Princess did _not_ carry out her orders. The man you speak of--who is the most dangerous and unprincipled scoundrel in the world--has escaped, and we have lost all trace of him." It was my turn to show surprise and alarm. "What you tell me is appalling! I ought to see the Princess as soon as possible. If what she says is true, it must be the Englishman who has brought about Petrovitch's arrest." "He is no Englishman," the Superintendent returned. "He is an American, a Pole, a Frenchman, whatever you please. That man has been at the bottom of all the troubles in Europe for the last twenty years. I have employed him myself, sometimes, so I ought to know something about him." I listened with an interest that was not feigned to this character of myself. It was, all the same, a lie that Finkelstein had ever employed me; on the contrary, I had been called in by his imperial master to check his work. "Then what is to be done?" I asked, as the German finished speaking. "M. Petrovitch sent me here to warn you against the Princess, and to demand your influence to secure his release." "That will be a difficult matter. I shall have to consult the Minister. In the meantime, where can I find you?" I mentioned the name of a hotel. "And the Princess Y----? Where can I see her?" "I expect that she has left for Kiel," said the Superintendent. "She has volunteered to carry out the plan originally proposed by Petrovitch." "Then in that case you will not require my services?" I said, with an air of being disappointed. "M. Petrovitch thought you might find me useful in his place." "I must consult others before I can say anything as to that," was the cautious reply. He added rather grudgingly, "I did not know M. Petrovitch myself, you see. It was thought better that he should not come to Berlin." This statement relieved me of a great anxiety. I now saw my way to take a bolder line. "So I understood, sir. But I did not venture to approach his majesty except through you." Finkelstein started again, and gave me a new look of curiosity. "Who authorized you to mention the Emperor?" I tried to play the part of a man who has made an unintentional slip. "I spoke too quickly. Petrovitch informed me--that is to say, I supposed--" I broke down in feigned confusion. I knew inquisitiveness to be the Superintendent's besetting sin, and, up to a certain point, I had an interest in tempting him on. "You appear to be more in the confidence of M. Petrovitch than you are willing to admit," he said sagely. "Up to the present you have not explained how he came to make you his messenger." I leaned back with a faint smile. "I imagine you are quite astute enough to guess my secret, if you choose, Herr Finkelstein. But you must excuse me if I am a little careful whom I trust, especially after the behavior of Princess Y----." "You are M. Petrovitch himself! Of course! I thought as much all along," Finkelstein said with a smile of triumph. "Well, you are certainly right to be cautious; but, as you see, it is not easy to deceive an old hand like myself." "At all events you will be at least equally cautious, I hope. What you tell me about this international spy being still at large has disturbed me a good deal, I confess." "Make your mind easy," the German returned with a patronizing air. "We are in Berlin here, not in Petersburg. This gentleman will not venture within my reach, I assure you." I professed every satisfaction with this guarantee, and took my leave. CHAPTER XXIX AN IMPERIAL FANATIC I was now to face Wilhelm II. It was solely for this purpose that I had come to Berlin. But I knew the great advantage of getting myself vouched for in advance by a third party, and therefore I had been anxious to convince Finkelstein of my identity in the first place, so that his master might accept me without inquiry as to whether I was the man I claimed to be. I dined quietly in my hotel, a small tavern in a back street. It was getting late, and I was on the point of going to bed, when I heard the noise of a motor rushing up and stopping suddenly outside the little inn. An aide-de-camp burst in upon me. "Your name, sir?" he demanded in a whisper. "Petrovitch," I replied in the same tone. "Come this way, if you please." In less than a minute I was seated in the car, which was dashing at a really dangerous pace through the nearly deserted streets. "I am taking you to Potsdam," was all the explanation my companion thought necessary. It did not take us long to reach the famous palace of Frederick the Great, which the growth of Berlin has almost turned into a suburban residence. My conductor brought me past all the sentries and servants, and led me down some steps into what seemed to be a subterranean hall. It was decorated with statues and paintings of the ancestors of Wilhelm II., together with weapons, suits of armor, and banners of the successive periods in which they lived. But the most striking object in the hall or crypt--for it might have been either--was a trophy erected on a species of altar at one end, exhibiting a variety of crowns. At the foot were a number of small coronets, representing those worn by the former Margraves of Brandenburg, in whom the Hohenzollern family took its rise. Above were ranged the crowns of the Kings of Prussia, that of Frederick the Great being in the center. Still higher rose the three imperial crowns of Germany, those of William I., Frederick III., and the present Emperor. And then, right on the summit, came a still more gorgeous object, whose like I had never seen before. It was a colossal miter, somewhat after the fashion of the Papal tiara, wrought out of pure gold, thickly studded with great pearls, and surmounted by a cross. But I had barely time to notice this singular display. As my guide left me on the threshold of the hall, I was aware that I stood in the presence of the German Emperor. This extraordinary monarch, whose great and far-reaching views are combined with a type of extravagance which has long made him looked upon as the _enfant terrible_ of Europe, was about to teach me a new side of his character. He received me seated in a small ivory chair like a throne, and attired in a garment of pontifical design. "Advance, M. Petrovitch," he commanded in a loud voice. As I stood in front of him, he said theatrically, "I receive you in the Hall of the Hohenzollerns. You see around you the sacred memorials of the family which Providence has raised up to be the saviors of Europe, and the future rulers of the world." In response to this invitation I took a longer and more comprehensive view of the various objects already described. The Kaiser condescended to point some of them out to me with a long two-handed sword which he held. I began to suspect seriously that the megalomania which has always formed one of Wilhelm's characteristic traits, was overpowering his good sense. "M. Petrovitch," my august cicerone proceeded, "you see there the crowns which have been won and worn by my illustrious and never-to-be-forgotten ancestors. Can you guess the meaning of the diadem above--which I have designed myself? "That," declared the last and most remarkable of the Hohenzollerns, "is intended to be worn by that member of my Family who shall be called by the united voice of the other sovereigns to the supreme world monarchy. It is destined to be our Planetary Crown." I bowed in stupefaction. The Kaiser seemed pleased with the impression he had made. "And now," he said, "since it is necessary that I should be sure of you before I trust you with my plans, kneel down." I knelt, feeling as if I were in a dream. Wilhelm II. solemnly held out the hilt of his two-handed sword:-- "You swear to yield faith, loyalty and utter obedience now and henceforth to Almighty God, and the Head of the Hohenzollerns!" It being impossible to refuse the oath in the circumstances, I kissed the sword, with a mental reservation. Wilhelm II. surprised me by thereupon laying it across my shoulders. "I dub thee knight of the Sacred Order of the Hohenzollerns! Arise." I got up, thoroughly confused. The Emperor invited me to be seated, and proceeded to deliver a harangue--for it was nothing less. "Bismarck had not sufficient genius to see the destiny of the Hohenzollerns. With the vision of a mere German Junker, he looked on Russia as the enemy. "It is I who have changed all that. I have taught the Czar to look to me for guidance and protection. Should the present revolutionary movement become dangerous, I shall march at the head of my army to the rescue, and reinstate the Romanoffs as my vassals. "The only obstacle in the path of the Hohenzollerns is an island which two of my Army Corps could subdue in a fortnight. But in order to invade it with safety, I must have France on my side. "It is for this end that I have been working. France cherishes a grudge against me because of the glorious exploits of my immortal grandfather. Moreover, my uncle, Edward VII., has contrived to win the friendship of the Republicans. "But France is the ally of Russia, and if Russia is attacked, France must draw the sword on her behalf. "You understand?--with the first shot which is fired by a British warship on the Russian flag, I shall be able to invade England." I understood indeed. Briefly and plainly Wilhelm II. had summed up the result of my own inquiries and reasonings. "It is you," the Emperor proceeded, "who have undertaken to secure this result." I bowed, intensely desirous to know exactly what it was that Petrovitch had pledged himself to do. "I have just rewarded you for the services you have already rendered, by admitting you to my Family Order, an order which I intend shall take precedence of the Golden Fleece, and even the Garter. Should you carry out your present task to my satisfaction I shall consider no reward too great for you." I trembled as I listened to this wild vaporing. If such were the private thoughts of the Kaiser, no wonder some of his public utterances smacked of the visionary. I could not doubt that he was thoroughly in earnest. Long brooding on the greatness of his ancestors, and his own importance as the sole European ruler who has kings for his satellites, had filled him with the fanatical spirit of a Mohammed or a Hildebrand. He believed, firmly and sincerely believed, that Providence had called him to the sovereignty of the globe, and authorized him to sweep every rival out of his path. "Your majesty overwhelms me," I murmured. "Consider, sire, that to be your servant is in itself an honor so great that no other reward is necessary." The Kaiser smiled graciously. "Well, now, M. _de_ Petrovitch----" his majesty emphasized the particle by way of reminding me that I was now a knight of the important Order of Hohenzollern--"let us discuss your next step." I seized the opportunity to obtain the information I was so anxious to secure. "I should feel it presumptuous to enter into anything like a discussion with you, sire. If your majesty will be gracious enough to impart your criticism on my proposal?" Wilhelm II. looked at me as though he found me to be a person of much good sense. "Your idea, my dear de Petrovitch, as I understand it, is to provoke the British to reprisals by some outrage on the part of the Baltic Fleet during its passage to the Far East. "Unfortunately, as you must see, the British are determined not to be provoked. Remember what has been done already. You have captured and sunk their ships, in violation of international law; you have sent out volunteer cruisers from the Black Sea in defiance of treaties, and turned back their mail steamers with government stores on board. "What has been the result? The English Government has complained to yours; the Czar has ordered explanations to be given, and the thing has blown over. "This time there must be something more than that. There must be something which cannot be explained away. We must if possible place Nicholas II., as well as Great Britain, in a position from which neither can retreat without loss of honor. "To this end it is necessary that the Baltic Fleet should commit an act of war, and that the Czar should be convinced that the provocation has come from the English side. Do you understand?" I recalled the hints dropped by Captain Vassileffsky at Revel. "Your majesty has been informed perhaps that I have caused the officers and men of the Fleet to believe that they will find Japanese torpedo boats lying in wait for them among the English fishing vessels in the North Sea. In consequence, they will be ready to fire without waiting to see if the torpedo boats are really there, especially if the fishermen fail to retire as the Fleet approaches." The Kaiser shook his head. "All that is leaving too much to chance, my good de Petrovitch. What is required is something more positive. In short, the torpedo boats must really be there." I lifted my eyes to his. "There is not a Japanese torpedo boat within ten thousand miles of the North Sea, unfortunately." Wilhelm II. smiled a meaning smile. "If that is all, we must so far forget the duties of neutrality as to allow the friends of Japan to procure a craft suitable for the purpose from our dockyard at Kiel." CHAPTER XXX THE STOLEN SUBMARINE As the full extent of this audacious plot was laid bare before my eyes I had a difficulty in believing in its reality. I was obliged to remind myself of some of the maneuvres which have marked German statecraft in the recent past, of the forgeries and "reinsurance" treaties of Bismarck, of the patronage extended to Abdul Hamid, of the secret intrigue that brought about the disasters of Greece. If I had had any scepticism left, the Emperor would have dispelled it by the clear and business-like explanations which followed. His majesty produced a chart of the North Sea, showing the coasts of Great Britain and Germany, with the Kiel Canal and so forth. Half-way between the opposite shores a dotted outline marked the situation of the great shoals which attract the fish, and from which the harvests of the sea are gathered by the brave and industrious toilers of Grimsby, Hull, and many another port. From the northern point of Denmark, two lines in red ink were drawn right down the map to where the North Sea narrows into the Straits of Dover. The first of these lines was fairly direct, passing about thirty miles to the eastward of the great fishing grounds. The second line took a wide curve to the west, and crossed right over the center of a shoal marked "Dogger Bank." The Kaiser proceeded to explain. "This is a duplicate of the charts used by the pilots of the North Sea. I have offered my brother Nicholas as a special favor the services of German pilots, and they will board the vessels of the Baltic Fleet as soon as it leaves Danish waters. "As you see, the right course would take the fleet a long way off the English fishing-boats. But the pilots who go on board will receive secret orders at the last moment to take the Russian ships over the Dogger Bank, and, if possible, into the very midst of any fishing fleet that may be there. "Then all that is required is that you should be on the spot, and should fire the first shot from the midst of the fishing-boats." I endeavored to preserve a calm demeanor. "May I suggest to your majesty that the presence of a torpedo boat among them is likely to arouse suspicion beforehand. The English sailors have keen eyes." "I have thought of that. It will be necessary for you to have a submarine." "A submarine, sire!" "Certainly. I have had six submarine torpedo boats built by my own designs at Kiel since this war broke out, for use in defending the approaches to the Canal. "These boats are now lying in the inner harbor, all fitted out and ready for sea. "You will take one, with a crew of your own, whom you must enlist secretly, and slip out through the Canal into the North Sea. "You will proceed, keeping under the surface, till you reach the Dogger Bank, and find yourself among the trawl nets of the English fishermen. "There you will wait till such time as the Russian ships come up. "As soon as the right moment has arrived, you will rise to the surface and discharge a torpedo. As soon as you have drawn the fire of the Russians, and have seen an English fishing-boat struck, you can go beneath the surface again, and make the best of your way back to Kiel." "Your plan is perfection itself, sire!" I exclaimed with an admiration which was not wholly pretended, since the idea really was not lacking in cleverness. The Kaiser nodded good-humoredly. "The Russians will never be persuaded they were not attacked first, and the English will never pass over such an outrage in their own waters," his majesty remarked complacently. "Lord Charles Beresford will do the rest." "I am ready to carry out your orders, sire. All I require is an authority to take the submarine from Kiel." The Kaiser frowned. "Have you had any authority from me for anything you have done up to the present, sir?" he demanded harshly. As an answer in the negative was clearly expected, I gave it. "Understand me, M. de Petrovitch, I repose every confidence in you; but I should not have held this conversation with any man, even my Chancellor, if I thought it could ever be used against me. If I gave you the authority you ask for, I should not be able to deny that I had ever employed you, in case of trouble." "Then you propose, sire----?" "I intend you to take this vessel secretly, without authority from me or from any one else." "And if I am caught in the act of taking it? If any of the naval authorities question my movements?" "You will not be caught. Your movements will not be questioned. I can assure you of so much." "I thank you, sire. That is quite sufficient." I retired from the imperial presence, though not, as I have had some reason to suspect, from the imperial observation. In other words, I felt pretty well convinced that there would be a watch on my movements till my task was over. The same aide-de-camp awaited me outside the Hall of the Hohenzollerns, and carried me back to my obscure hotel with the same speed and silence as he had brought me. The next morning I arose to find the papers filled with the news of the departure of the Baltic Fleet from Libau. The Russian Admiral, as if in obedience to the secret promptings of Berlin, was reported as having issued a preposterous and illegal warning that he should fire on any ship of any nation that presumed to venture within reach of his guns. I could not help wondering what would be thought of this proclamation in the British Admiralty. There being no more for me to do in Berlin, I took the first train to Kiel, the Portsmouth of Germany. Kiel itself, it will be remembered, stands at the Baltic end of the famous canal which the present Kaiser has had constructed for his warships to pass out to the North Sea without going around Denmark. It was late when I arrived, but I determined to lose no time in seeing how far the secret orders of the Kaiser extended. Accordingly, as soon as I had dined, I went out and took my way toward the government dockyard. The entrance to the dockyard was guarded by a sentry with fixed bayonet. Behind him I saw a large iron gate which appeared to be heavily barred, with a small postern at one side, which was also closed. I advanced toward the sentry, expecting every moment to hear a challenge ring out. To my genuine astonishment, nothing of the kind occurred. The sentry did not pay the slightest attention to me, but went on pacing to and fro as though I had been wearing a cap of invisibility. I went up to the postern door, and tried the handle. It opened at a touch, and I found myself alone in the deserted dockyard. For some time I groped my way forward by the light of the few scattered electric lights, till I reached the edge of a large basin which appeared to communicate with the outer harbor of Kiel. Turning the opposite way, I went along the edge of the wharf, picking my way among timber balks, stacks of iron sheeting, chains, ropes, and all the other things that are found scattered about a naval dockyard. At the head of the great basin I found a lock giving access to a small inner dock, in which a number of vessels were moored. I made my way around, searching everywhere for the vessels I had been told I should find. At last, in the farthest and most secluded corner, I perceived a row of small craft, shaped much like a shark, with a long narrow tube or funnel rising up from the center of each. They lay low in the water, without being submerged. Alone among the shipping they carried no riding-lights. They appeared dark, silent, and deserted. Almost unconsciously I ran my eye along them, counting them as they lay. Suddenly I was aroused to keen attention. One--two--three--four--five. The Kaiser had assured me that I should find six submarines to choose from! I counted once more with straining eyes. _One_--_two_--_three_--_four_--_five_. One of the mysterious craft had been taken away! CHAPTER XXXI THE KIEL CANAL It was impossible to resist the conclusion suggested by the absence of the sixth submarine. I was not the only person who had been authorized, or rather instructed, to carry out the design against the Baltic Fleet. My august employer had thought it better to have two strings to his bow. Who, then, was the person by whom I had been anticipated? To this question an answer suggested itself which I was tempted to reject, but which haunted me, and would not be dismissed. The Princess Y---- had arrived in Berlin twelve hours before me. She had come, fully believing that Petrovitch was dead, and prepared to take his place. She had interviewed Finkelstein, as I knew. Was it not possible that she, also, had been received in the crypt at Potsdam, had been shown the chart of the North Sea, with its ominous red lines, and had accepted the task of launching one of the submarines on its fatal errand? In spite of all the stories which had been told me of Sophia's daring and resource, in spite of my own experiences of her adventures and reckless proceedings, I did not go so far as to credit her with having proceeded to sea in the missing craft. But it struck me as altogether in keeping with her character that she should have arranged for the withdrawal of the boat, provided it with a crew, and despatched it fully instructed as to the work to be done. But whether these suspicions were well founded or otherwise, of one thing there could be no doubt. A submarine had been taken by some one, and was now on its way to the North Sea, to lie in wait for the ships of Admiral Rojestvensky. This discovery entirely changed the position for me. I had come down to Kiel intending to take a submarine out to sea, to watch for the approach of the Russian fleet, and to take whatever steps proved practicable to avert any collision between it and the fishing-boats on the Dogger Bank. I now saw that the chance of my preventing a catastrophe depended entirely on the movements of the boat which had left already. This boat had become my objective, to use a strategical phrase. Somewhere in the North Sea was a submarine boat, charged with the mission of provoking a world-wide war. And that boat I had to find. There was no time to be lost. I hastened back by the most direct way I could find, to the dockyard gates. The little postern was still unlocked, and I passed out, the sentry again taking no notice of my passage. But at the first street corner I saw a man in seafaring dress who fixed a very keen gaze on me as I came up, and saluted me by touching his cap. "Good-night," I said in a friendly voice, slowing down in my walk. "Good-night, sir. Beg pardon, Captain,"--he came and moved along beside me--"but you don't happen to know of a job for a seafaring man, I suppose?" I stopped dead, and looked him straight in the eyes. "How many men do you estimate are required to navigate a submarine?" I asked. "Fifteen," was the prompt answer. "How soon can you have them here?" was my next question. The fellow glanced at his watch. "It's half-past eleven now, Captain. I could collect them and bring them here by half-past one." "Do it, then," I returned and walked swiftly away. The whole thing, it was evident, had been prearranged, and I did not choose to waste time in mock negotiations. I went back to my inn to wait, but there was nothing for me to do, except examine the cartridges in my revolver. I was not quite sure how much my crew had been told, and I thought it just possible that I might have some trouble with them when they found out the nature of my proceedings. Punctually at the hour fixed I returned to the street outside the dockyard, where I found fifteen men assembled. Glancing over them, I formed the opinion that they were picked men, on whom I could have relied thoroughly for the work I had been ordered to do, but who might be all the more likely to mutiny if they suspected that I was playing false. I stood in front of them in the silence of the street. "Now, my men, if there is any one of you who is not prepared to obey me, even if I order him to scuttle the ship, let him fall out before we start." Not a man stirred. Not an eyelash quivered. The German discipline had done its work. "I give you notice that the first man who hesitates to carry out my orders will be shot." The threat was received with perfect resignation. "Follow me." I turned on my heel, and led the way to the dockyard gates, the men marching after me with a regular tramp which could only have been acquired on the deck of a man-of-war. The sentry was, if possible, more indifferent to our approach than he had been when I had been alone. I threw open the wicket, and bade the last man close it. Then we marched in the same order to the place where the five submarines were moored. "I am going on board one of these boats," I announced. "Find something to take us off." The man whom I had engaged originally, taking on himself the part of mate, repeated my directions. A large whale-boat was found tied up in a convenient spot beside the wharf. We all got in, and I took the tiller. The mate, who answered to the Russian name of Orloff, though the only language I heard him speak was German, said nothing till I brought the whale-boat alongside of the nearest submarine. "I beg pardon, Captain, but I have a fancy that the boat at the far end is in better trim, if you have no choice." "Why didn't you tell me so at once?" I returned sharply, not too well pleased to find him so well informed. We boarded the submarine pointed out, and found it, of course, provided with everything necessary for an immediate departure, including provisions for a week. "You understand the navigation of the Canal, I suppose?" I inquired of Orloff. "I do, sir." "Very good. Take the boat through. And ascertain all that you can about another submarine which must have passed through yesterday. Wake me if you hear or see anything." I lay down in the captain's berth and tried to sleep. But the excitement and, I may say, the romantic interest of the adventure proved too strong for me. I rose again, and came to where my deputy was seated, carefully conning the boat out of the dockyard basin into the Baltic end of the great Canal. We were already submerged, only the tip of our conning staff being out of the water. But by an ingenious system of tiny mirrors the steersman was able to see his way as plainly as if he had been on deck above the surface. On approaching the lock by which the basin opened into the Canal, no signal appeared to be given. Silently, as if of their own accord, the huge sluices opened and shut, and we glided out into the great waterway which has made the German Navy independent of Danish good-will. The voyage along the Kiel Canal in the silence of the night was deeply interesting, and were I not obliged to restrict myself severely to the naked outline of such facts as bear directly on the catastrophe, I should like to attempt a description of the weird and picturesque scene. Keeping steadily just under the surface, we proceeded swiftly past ports and villages and lonely wharves, till the stars paled and disappeared and a faint flush overspreading the sky in front warned us that day was breaking behind us. I searched the banks for anything resembling the craft of which I was in search, but in vain. We passed many other ships, chiefly merchantmen bound for Lubeck and Dantzig and other Baltic ports, but of course without being perceived ourselves. When we reached the mouth of the Canal, I ordered Orloff to stop. "I must go ashore here, and inquire about the other boat," I explained. I saw from the expression of his face that this step was not quite to his liking, but he did not venture on any remonstrance. He brought the boat alongside the bank, and raised her gently to the surface, to enable me to step on shore. But my quest proved useless, as perhaps I ought to have foreseen. The harbor-master, or port captain, to whom I addressed myself, affected the most entire ignorance of the exit of any submarine within the last week or more. "What you suggest is impossible," he assured me. "Every submarine is well known and carefully guarded, and if one had been permitted to leave Kiel by way of the Canal, I should have been notified in advance. No such notification has reached me, and therefore, as you will see, no such boat can possibly have left." I suspected that he was lying, but I thought it unsafe to persist. It occurred to me too late that I had been guilty of some imprudence in showing so much anxiety on the subject. It was only too probable that my inquiries would be reported to the Kaiser, who would draw his own inferences in the event of anything going wrong. I returned on board my own boat, saying nothing to Orloff, and gave the order to proceed. Orloff had handed over the wheel to one of his subordinates, who steered the submarine out into the blue waters of the North Sea. As soon as we were well out of reach of the Slesvig shore, I said to the steersman, "Now I will take the helm." Instead of promptly relinquishing it to me, the man turned his head in search of Orloff, saying at the same time, "Do you understand the course, sir?" I saw that if I meant to be master of the vessel, I must prove that my words of the night before were spoken in earnest. I drew my revolver, and put a bullet through the mutineer's head. CHAPTER XXXII THE DOGGER BANK The sound of the explosion reverberated through the little craft like thunder. Orloff and half a dozen more men came rushing up. "This man disobeyed me," I said, quietly, slipping a fresh cartridge into the smoking chamber of my revolver. "Throw the body overboard, and return to your duties." What instructions Orloff and his men had received it was impossible for me to guess. But they clearly did not authorize any breach of discipline at this stage of the voyage. Without the slightest demur they lifted up the body, and carried it off. I had learned the way to manage the submarine by watching Orloff during the night, and I now pressed a lever which brought us swiftly to the surface. There was a sound of trampling feet overhead, followed by a splash, and I saw the mutineer's body drift past. It would be idle to seek for words in which to describe the overpowering anxiety which racked my nerves as we tore through the water. The peace of Europe, the safety of Japan and Great Britain, perhaps the future of the world, might be at stake. Everything depended on my finding the other submarine before it had launched its bolt against the great war fleet which was even now steaming through the Danish Belts, officered by men, some of whom I knew to be ready to take advantage of any pretext for outraging the peace of the seas. It did not take me long to decide that the neighborhood of the Dogger Bank was the most likely place, in fact the only place, for my search. I am not wholly unskilled in navigation, having given up a good deal of my spare time to yachting. With the aid of a chart which was on board, I had little difficulty in keeping a fairly straight course for the famous fishing ground. On the way I did not neglect the opportunity of acquiring a complete command over the movements of the submarine. It was driven by electricity, and so designed that by means of various knobs, one man could control it entirely, steering it, raising or lowering it in the water, increasing or slackening speed, stopping, backing, and even discharging the torpedo which was its only weapon of attack--with the exception of a small sharp ram at the bow. Having asserted my authority, and acquired the practical knowledge I needed, I at last called Orloff to me, and gave him the wheel. "Take me to the Dogger Bank. Warn me as soon as we get near any fishing-boats, and above all keep a careful lookout for our consort." It was by this name that I thought it most prudent to refer to the object of my search. Orloff took the wheel, and said immediately with an air of great respect, "You have laid a marvelously straight course, Captain. I was not aware that you were familiar with these waters. The Dogger Bank is right ahead, and we shall reach it in less than an hour." An hour later I was conscious of a light shock as the submarine stopped. We had grounded on the sandy shoal of the Dogger, in twenty fathoms of water, and overhead I could see great black shadows sweeping slowly past. They were cast by the trawlers of the Gamecock fleet. It being still daylight I did not venture to let the submarine show itself on the surface of the sea. Hugging the bottom, I steered in and out among the great trailing nets of the fisher fleet. At the same time I ordered my crew to keep a sharp watch for the first submarine, promising fifty marks[B] to the man who sighted her. [Footnote B: A silver mark is about twenty cents of our money.] The rest of that day passed without anything happening. As soon as darkness fell I brought my boat up to the surface, partly in order to renew the air supply, and partly to scan the horizon in search of the oncoming Russian fleet. But thanks to the promptness with which I had gone out to sea I had anticipated Rojestvensky by twenty-four hours. The Baltic Fleet was still in Danish waters, waiting to pick up the German pilots who were to lure it from its course. Finding there were no signs of the Russians, I submerged the submarine, all except the little conning tube, which was invisible in the darkness, and ran in among the English smacks. As I heard the brave, hardy fishermen talking to one another, the temptation was a strong one to disclose myself, and warn them of the coming peril. Only my experience of the uselessness of such warnings restrained me. I knew that these simple, law-abiding citizens would laugh me in the face if I told them that they were in danger from the warships of a foreign Power. As my unseen vessel glided softly past the side of one fishing-boat, whose name I could just make as the _Crane_, I overheard a few scraps of conversation, which threw a pathetic light on the situation. "We shall have the Rooshians coming along presently," said one voice. "No," answered another, "they won't come anywhere near us. 'Tis out of their course." "They do say the Rooshians don't know much about seamanship," a third voice spoke out. "Like as not we'll see their search-lights going by." "Well, if they come near enough, we'll give the beggars a cheer; what d'ye say?" "Aye, let's. Fair play's what I wishes 'em, and let the best man win." The words died away along the water, as I drew off and let my craft sink under once again. That night I slept soundly, making up for the vigil of the night before. The submarine rested on the sea floor, in a hollow of the undulating Bank, and one of the crew kept watch in case a "trawl" should come too close. But there was no sign of the mysterious companion which had come out of Kiel Harbor in front of me, and was even now prowling somewhere in the dark depths around. CHAPTER XXXIII TRAFALGAR DAY In the morning I was conscious of a certain stir and display on board some of the fishing boats among which I continued to lurk. At first I supposed that the Baltic Fleet must have been sighted. But in the course of the day I gathered from various cries and shouts which were borne across the water, that the fishermen were keeping the anniversary of the most glorious day in the history of England, the day on which the immortal Nelson annihilated the united fleets of France and Spain, and shattered the dream of the great Napoleon that he could tame the haughty Island Power. As long as daylight lasted I scoured the sea for a distance of five miles all around the devoted fishing fleet, without coming on the slightest trace of the other submarine. A delusive hope assailed me that some accident might have overtaken it. But I did not relax my vigilance, and when night fell I took up a station about a mile in front of the English smacks, in the direction from which I had reason to expect the approach of Rojestvensky. A few hours elapsed, then my watchfulness was rewarded. Away down on the horizon toward the northeast, there glittered out a row of twinkling lights, one behind the other, as though a lamp-lit thoroughfare had got afloat and drifted out to sea. The sinuous streak of lights, shifting as they approached like the coils of some great water-snake, glided toward us at what seemed a fearful speed, and as they drew near the white lights were interspread with green and crimson points, like rubies and emeralds set between rows of diamonds. And ever and anon the swift electric tongues of the search-lights spat forth and licked the dark face of the waters like hungry things. Keeping my upper deck just awash, I lay still and beheld at last the great black sides of the battleships tower up, pierced with illuminated windows. My heart began to throb wildly. If only the other submarine failed to appear; if only the English fishermen would realize their danger and flee in time, disaster might be averted. The hope had scarcely formed itself in my mind when Orloff, who had come to repose confidence in me, respectfully touched my arm and pointed ahead. Not two hundred yards from me, stealing along about a mile in advance of the Russian fleet, I perceived a small dark object, showing hardly a foot above the surface of the waves. It was the rival submarine! Instead of proceeding direct to the Dogger Bank, as I had done, the other boat must have joined Admiral Rojestvensky's squadron, and come on before it like a jackal pointing out the lion's prey. "Go forward," I commanded the German mate. "Let no one disturb me till this business is over." Orloff gave me a wondering look, but obeyed without an instant's hesitation. As soon as his back was turned, I swung the wheel around, put on the full power of the engines, and went after the craft I had been searching for during the last forty-eight hours. Had the commander of the other submarine noticed mine, and did he suspect my intention to frustrate his design? It almost seemed so. His boat, scarcely visible in the gloom, fled in front of me to where the foremost fishing boats were riding lazily over the shoals, dragging their nets along the bottom. It was a weird chase. Neither of us showed a glint of light, or made the smallest sound. Like two great shadowing fish we darted through the depths of the sea, hunter and hunted. In between the sagging nets with their load of cod and flounders, shot the phantom boat I was pursuing, and I followed, obliged to slacken speed as we twisted in and out under the keels of the unconscious fishermen. And all this time the huge warships in two lines astern were plunging through the seas, heading straight for the unfortunate smacks. The chase seemed to be aware that it was a case of now or never. I was catching up with it fast; I was able to mark its course by the broken water churned up by its propeller; when, all at once, I saw it rise with the swift motion of a bird. I had no alternative but to do the same. As I emerged upon the surface I found my boat in the very center of the full glare of a search-light which lit up the whole scene with dazzling radiance. Fresh from the depths below, where all had been dark, my eyes fairly blinked in the sudden splendor of light. Then, for what might have been from three to five seconds, I saw everything that passed. The foremost vessels of the Russian fleet had already gone past the group of drifting trawlers. One large cruiser was passing within a stone's-throw of the nearest fishing-boat, and the English fishermen were playfully holding up some of their freshly-caught fish, as though offering it to the Russian sailors. Another line of warships was coming up behind, with its search-lights thrown out in front. And then, right across the range of lights, and in a straight line between the Russian battleships and the English smacks, I saw the phantom torpedo boat pass deliberately, as high out of the water as she could show. What happened next took place so swiftly, and with such confusion that I cannot pretend to describe it with accuracy. Shouts rang out on some of the Russian ships, the submarine headed around as though to seek refuge among the trawlers, and then a gun was fired, and a cannon-ball struck the water within a few feet of me. All at once, it seemed to me, and as though by some preconcerted plan, half the ships of the Baltic Fleet opened fire on the English fishermen, who seemed too surprised and horrified to do anything. I saw ball after ball crash into one luckless smack, which quickly began to fill and sink. But, generally speaking, the marksmanship of the Russians was too wild for the firing to have serious effect. As soon as I realized that I had become a mark for the Russian guns I sank beneath the surface. It is no doubt this voluntary move on my part which has given rise to the belief cherished by some of the officers of the Baltic Fleet, and indorsed by Admiral Rojestvensky, that a torpedo boat was sunk by their fire. But I knew that the massacre--for it was nothing less--would go on as long as the other submarine remained on the surface, mixing among the luckless fishing boats with the deliberate intention of drawing on them the Russian fire. I marked her course, put my engines to their fullest speed one more, and rushed after her. This time my coming was not watched by the hostile commander. Like Admiral Rojestvensky, he may have believed that my boat had been sunk by the ball which had come so close. Or else, perhaps, in his exultation at having brought about an event which seemed to make war inevitable, he had forgotten his former fears. But the truth will never be known. I brought my own boat right under the demon craft, and then, tilting her up at a sharp angle, rammed the other in the center of her keel. There was a concussion, a muffled sound of tearing iron, and as I backed away at full speed astern, I saw the waters of the North Sea pour through a long jagged rent in the bottom of the doomed submarine, and watched her go down staggering like a wounded vulture through the air. The shock of the collision had brought Orloff and the rest of my crew running aft. "An accident," I explained coolly. "I have sunk some boat or other in the dark." The men exchanged suspicious glances. "It was the other submarine, sir," said Orloff, still preserving his respectful tone. "Will you permit us to see whether it is possible to save any of the crew?" "Do as you please," I returned, leaving the helm. "My work here is done, and I am ready to go back." I intended them to think I referred to the attack on the fishing-boats. The cannonade died away as I spoke. We went down through the water to where the wrecked submarine was lying half over on her side. Some frightened faces peered at us out of the upper portholes, where a supply of air still lingered. It was impossible to do anything for them down there without being swamped ourselves. We could only invite them by signs to forsake their own craft and let us carry them up to the surface where it would be safe for us to take them inside. In order to receive them on our upper deck we circled slowly around to the opposite side of their vessel. And there I beheld a sight which will haunt me for years to come. The whole side of the submarine had been wrenched open, revealing the interior of the cabin. And on the floor, lying in the peaceful attitude of one who had just resigned herself to sleep, I beheld the drowned form of the beautiful, desperate, perhaps wicked, but unhappy, woman from whose mad love I had fled. So, in the midst of the wild North Sea, in their strange coffin, the bones of Sophia, Princess Yernoloff, lie and rock on the incessant tides that sweep across the Dogger Bank. _Requiescat in pace!_ As our boat, laden with the rescued survivors, shot up again to the surface, I felt a noosed rope drawn tightly around my throat and heard the voice of Orloff hiss in my ear, "I arrest you in the name of the Kaiser!" CHAPTER XXXIV THE FAMILY STATUTE My task is done. At last the reader knows all that ever will be known--all there is to know, in short--concerning the tragedy of the North Sea. My personal adventures can possess little interest after the all-important transactions I have had to describe. But in case there should be a reader here and there who is good enough to feel any curiosity as to my fate, I will briefly tell what followed on my arrest. My revolver was taken from me and I was conducted under a strict guard back to Kiel. Off the mouth of the Canal we were boarded by a despatch-boat flying the German naval ensign, and a police officer with three men took me off the submarine. The first proceeding of my new captor was to handcuff me. He then warned me, "If you speak a single word to me or any one else till you are in the imperial presence, my orders are to shoot you through the head." I nodded. I had as little wish to speak as the Emperor could have to let me. My thoughts were busy with the memory of the woman of whose tragic death I had been the unwitting cause, and with the measures that remained to be taken to extenuate, so far as extenuation was possible, the fatal action of the Baltic fleet. As for myself, I can say truly that I had become almost indifferent to what was in store for me. My feeling toward the unfortunate Princess had not been such as that which makes a man desire a woman for his wife; it had not deserved the name of love, perhaps; and it was certainly free from any taint of a less noble passion. Nevertheless it had been a powerful sentiment, colored and strengthened by my knowledge of her love for me. Sophia had loved me. She had saved my life. And I had taken hers in return. Must I accuse myself of weakness for feeling as if happiness for me were over, and the best fate I could wish would be to lie there beside my victim on the lonely Dogger sands? When I came before Wilhelm II. he was not in the Hall of the Hohenzollerns, indulging his vein of extravagant romance, but in his private cabinet and in his most stern and business-like mood. "Give the prisoner a chair, and wait outside," his majesty commanded briefly. I sat down, still handcuffed, and the guards withdrew. "Now," said the Kaiser, fixing me with an eagle glance, "be good enough to explain your proceedings." I met his look with a steadfast one in return. "I have carried out your majesty's orders scrupulously. I have taken out the submarine torpedo boat, engaged a crew, proceeded to the Dogger Bank, and drawn the fire of the Baltic Fleet on the fishing-boats from Hull. I have not seen a newspaper since, but I assume that the British Navy has already arrested Admiral Rojestvensky and his squadron, and that the two Powers are at war." The Kaiser gnawed his moustache. "Things have not gone quite so well as you pretend, M. Petrovitch. "The Russian cannonade ceased after a few minutes," the Emperor resumed. "You did not remain on the surface after the first shot; you did not launch your torpedo, neither did you permit the other submarine to do so. In fact you sunk her." "I had no orders with respect to another submarine, sire. I was entitled to treat it as an enemy." "Nonsense, you know that it had left Kiel before you, on the same errand." "On the contrary, sire, I could not possibly know anything of the kind." "Why, you saw it had disappeared from the dock. You inquired after it along the Canal. When you got out to the Dogger you were searching for it the whole time." "And when I found it, sire, it was leading the Russian squadron, of which it appeared to form part. I had every right to assume that it was a Russian man-of-war." "A German boat!" thundered the Kaiser. "A boat not flying any flag must be presumed to belong to the country of those who are in control of it. I found this submarine under the control of a Russian subject." "The Princess was my agent." "Your majesty had not told me so. On the contrary, I understood that you wished my own boat to be considered a Russian vessel, in case of any question. I shipped a Russian crew therefore." Wilhelm II. frowned angrily. "Do not play with me, M. Petrovitch. I know all about your crew. Explain why you, a Russian subject, should have attacked what you are pleased to pretend was a Russian ship." "I regret to have to say that your majesty is laboring under a mistake. I am not a Russian subject." This time the Kaiser was fairly taken aback. "What subject are you?" "A Japanese." Wilhelm looked thunderstruck. "Japanese!" was all he could say. "If your majesty pleases. That being so, as soon as I took possession of the submarine, with your permission, of course it became a Japanese ship." "What you tell me is monstrous--ridiculous. Your name is Russian, your face is at least European." "My name, sire, is Matsukata. I received it in Tokio at the commencement of the war, on being adopted into a Japanese family. "If your majesty doubts my statement, I ask to be confronted with the Japanese Ambassador in Berlin." The Kaiser looked as if he would have liked to doubt it, but found himself unable to do so. "Then on your own showing you are a Japanese spy," he pronounced slowly. "As such I am entitled to have you shot." "Pardon me again, sire. In Petersburg I admit, that was my character. In Germany I have been your majesty's agent, and have literally fulfilled your commands." "You are a very acute quibbler, I see," was the retort, "but quibbles will not save you. You have stolen one of my ships to sink another with, and at the very least you deserve to be hanged as a pirate." "I demand to be tried," I said boldly, knowing that this was the one step to which the Emperor, for his own sake, could not consent. As I expected, he frowned uneasily. "In this case I must exercise my right of refusing a civil trial, in the interest of the State. I will give you a court-martial with closed doors." "That would be illegal, sire." "You dare to tell me so!" "Your majesty will find I am right. The case falls within the Hohenzollern Family Statute." The Kaiser appeared stupefied. "The Family Statute?" he repeated slowly, as if unable to believe his ears. "What has the Statute to do with you?" "It is provided in the Statute, if I recollect rightly, sire, that a member of the Imperial Family can be tried only by his peers, that is to say, by a court composed of members of your majesty's House." "Well, and what then?" "By another clause in the Statute--I regret that the number has escaped my memory--the privileges of a Hohenzollern in that respect are extended to members of other reigning Houses." "What are you going to tell me?" Wilhelm II. demanded in amazement. "Only that I have the honor to be the adopted son of his imperial highness Prince Yorimo, cousin to his majesty the Emperor of Japan." The German monarch sat still, unable to parry this unexpected blow. "The Japanese Ambassador--" he began to mutter. "Will confirm my statement, sire. I have already asked to be confronted with him. Before going to Kiel, I sent him information of my plans, so that he is already expecting to hear from me, I have no doubt." Wilhelm II. saw that he had come to the end of his tether. Lying back in his chair, he ejaculated---- "I believed there was only one man in the two hemispheres who could do things like this!" "I am flattered to think you may be right, sire," I responded in my natural voice, with a smile. The Emperor bounded from his seat. "You--are--Monsieur V----!" he fairly gasped out. "I was, sire. Permit me to repeat that I am now called Prince Matsukata of Japan." Wilhelm II. made an effort, and came out of it with his best manner. "Then, in that case, you will stay and lunch with the Empress and myself, my dear Prince." As soon as the handcuffs had been removed, I told the whole story to the Kaiser, who was immensely interested, and decidedly touched by the part which related to the drowned Princess. Before leaving the Palace, I asked permission of my imperial host to make use of his private wire for a message to London, in the interest of peace. Wilhelm II., who began to see that he had been betrayed into going a little farther than was altogether desirable, consented in the friendliest spirit, merely stipulating that he should be allowed to see the message. He was rather surprised when he found it was addressed to Lord Bedale at Buckingham Palace, and comprised a single word, "Elsinore." And so, although some of the newspapers in the two capitals of England and Russia continued to breathe war for some days longer, I felt no more anxiety after reading the paragraph which stated that the British Prime Minister, at the close of the decisive Cabinet Council, had driven to the Palace to be received in private audience by her majesty Queen Alexandra. EPILOGUE As I write these lines the war which has cost so many brave lives, and carried so much desolation through the fields and cities of Manchuria is still raging. The great fleet of Admiral Rojestvensky, from which the stains of the innocent fisherman's blood have not yet been washed, is plowing its way to meet a terrible retribution at the hands of the victorious Togo.[C] A curse is on that fleet, and it may be that the British Government foresaw that they could punish the crime of the Dogger Bank more terribly by letting it proceed, than by bringing it into Portsmouth to await the result of the international trial. [Footnote C: These words, which have been proven prophetic, were written last March, when Admiral Rojestvensky's fleet was still a very formidable fact to be reckoned with.--EDITOR.] In the great affairs of nations it is not always wise to exact strict justice, or to expose the actual truth. I, too, am a lover of peace. Not of that hysterical, sentimental horror of bloodshed which would place a great civilized nation at the mercy of more barbarous powers, which would stay the wheels of progress, and be indistinguishable from cowardice in the face of wrong. But I am a friend of the peace which is the natural result of a better understanding between peoples, of respect for one another's character and aims, of a wise recognition of facts, and an honorable determination not to play the part of the aggressor. It is in the hope of promoting such a peace on earth, and such good-will toward men, that I have allowed myself to publish the foregoing narrative. In order to soften the character of this revelation I have endeavored to impart to it a character of romance. So far as my abilities extend, I have sought to give the reader the impression that he has been reading an allegory rather than a dry, business record. I have tried to cover certain incidents with a discreet veil. I have as much as possible refrained from using real names. I trust that my narration will be accepted in the spirit in which it has been written and that no reader will allow his feelings of curiosity to lead him into going further, or raising questions which it might be indiscreet on my part to answer. But there is one part of the story to which the foregoing remarks do not apply. Whatever else be mythical, there is nothing mythical about the bright figure whose portrait has accompanied me through so many perils. There is a home for me in far-off Tokio, and when the blood-begrimed battalions of Asia sheathe their swords, I shall go thither to claim my reward. THE END POPULAR AND ATTRACTIVE CLOTH BOUND BOOKS Printed on superior paper; clear type; multi-color jackets. A carefully selected list of titles of the World's Best Authors; embracing absorbing love stories, baffling detective and mystery stories, and the most fascinating romantic stories of the West. 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Cloth, 12mo size. {1 Beautiful Fiend, A 26 Discarded Daughter, The {2 Victor's Triumph 27 Doom of Deville, The {3 Bride's Fate 28 Eudora {4 Changed Brides 29 Fatal Secret, A {5 Cruel as the Grave 30 Fortune Seeker {6 Tried for Her Life 31 Gypsy's Prophecy {7 Fair Play 32 Haunted Homestead {8 How He Won Her 33 India; or, The Pearl on {9 Family Doom Pearl River {10 Maiden Widow 34 Lady of the Isle, The {11 Hidden Hand, The 35 Lost Heiress, The {12 Capitola's Peril 36 Love's Labor Won {13 Ishmael 37 Missing Bride, The {14 Self Raised 38 Mother-in-Law {15 Lost Heir of Linlithgow 39 Prince of Darkness, and {16 Noble Lord, A Artist's Love {17 Unknown 40 Retribution {18 Mystery of Raven Rocks 41 Three Beauties, The 19 Bridal Eve, The 42 Three Sisters, The 20 Bride's Dowry, The 43 Two Sisters, The 21 Bride of Llewellyn, The 44 Vivian 22 Broken Engagement, The 45 Widow's Son 23 Christmas Guest, The 46 Wife's Victory 24 Curse of Clifton 25 Deserted Wife, The All of the above books may be had at the store where this book was bought, or will be sent postpaid at 75c each by the publishers. 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Popular Edition, =Redeemed= Dealing with divorce--the most vital problem in the world to-day--this book tells how a pure-minded woman is divorced from her husband, upon a flimsy pretext, because he wishes to marry again. How he suffers when he learns that he has thrown away the true disinterested love of a noble woman, and how he craves that love again, makes a vivid, forceful story of an intensely modern significance. 12mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Popular Edition, For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of $1.00 M. A. DONOHUE & CO. 701-733 So. Dearborn Street, Chicago The American Boy's Sports Series BY MARK OVERTON 12 Mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Price 60c Each. These stories touch upon nearly every sport in which the active boy is interested. Baseball, rowing, football, hockey, skating, ice-boating, sailing, camping and fishing all serve to lend interest to an unusual series of books. There are the following four titles: =1. 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33559	----	http://www.archive.org/details/atfallofportarth00straiala Soldiers of Fortune Series AT THE FALL OF PORT ARTHUR Or A Young American in the Japanese Navy by EDWARD STRATEMEYER Author of "Under the Mikado's Flag," "On to Pekin," "Two Young Lumbermen," "Old Glory Series," "Colonial Series," "Pan-American Series," etc. Illustrated by A. B. Shute [Illustration: "It is coming this way!" yelled Larry.----_Page 84._] [Illustration: Printer's logo] Boston: Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 1930 Copyright, 1905, by Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company All rights reserved AT THE FALL OF PORT ARTHUR Printed in U.S.A. PREFACE "AT THE FALL OF PORT ARTHUR" is a complete tale in itself, but forms the third volume in a line issued under the general title of "Soldiers of Fortune Series." The story relates primarily the adventures of Larry Russell and his old-time sea chum, Luke Striker, already well known to the readers of my "Old Glory Series." Larry and Luke are aboard of their old ship, the _Columbia_, bound from Manila to Nagasaki, with a cargo designed for the Japanese Government. This is during the war between Russia and Japan, and when close to the Japanese coast the schooner is sighted by a Russian warship and made a prize of war. As prisoners both Larry and Luke see something of life in the Russian navy. When close to Vladivostok, the Russian warship falls in with several ships of the Japanese fleet, and after a thrilling sea-fight surrenders with her prize. This brings Larry and Luke before Admiral Togo, and as Larry's brother Ben, with their mutual friend, Gilbert Pennington, is already in the Japanese army, Larry enters the Japanese navy and Luke follows suit. The siege and bombardment of Port Arthur are at their height; and the particulars are given of many battles both on the sea and on land, leading up to the ultimate surrender of that brave Russian commander, General Stoessel, and the fall of the city. By this surrender the Japanese obtained many thousands of prisoners of war, hundreds of cannon, with large quantities of ammunition, and several scores of vessels, useful for either fighting purposes or as transports. Moreover, this victory placed the entire southern portion of Manchuria under Japanese control, giving the army untrammeled use of the railroad running from Port Arthur to Liao-Yang, a city on the road to Mukden, captured some time before, as already related in another volume of this series, entitled "Under the Mikado's Flag." As I have mentioned in a previous work, it is as yet impossible to state what the outcome of this terrific conflict will be. So far victory has perched largely upon the standard of Japan. The Russian navy has been practically shattered and its army fought to a standstill. The cost of the war has been tremendous to both countries. Countless thousands of lives have already been sacrificed. Would that peace were soon at hand! Again I thank my young friends for their appreciation of my former stories. May the present tale fulfill every reasonable expectation. EDWARD STRATEMEYER. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. LARRY AND HIS FRIENDS 1 II. A STORM ON THE PACIFIC 10 III. LARRY LEARNS SOMETHING 20 IV. THE RUSSIAN SAILOR'S PLOT 29 V. SIGNS OF A MUTINY 38 VI. THE FIGHT FOR THE SHIP 47 VII. THE MUTINEERS IN POSSESSION 56 VIII. TURNING THE TABLES 66 IX. CLOSE TO A WATERSPOUT 76 X. SOMETHING ABOUT WAR AND FIGHTING SHIPS 86 XI. AN ORDER TO LAY-TO 95 XII. TAKEN AS A PRIZE OF WAR 103 XIII. PRISONERS ON THE _Pocastra_ 113 XIV. PROGRESS OF THE WAR 122 XV. A SHARP NAVAL BATTLE 132 XVI. ABOARD A JAPANESE WARSHIP 140 XVII. THE RETAKING OF THE _Columbia_ 148 XVIII. A CLEVER RUSE 156 XIX. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ENEMY 164 XX. LARRY BEFORE ADMIRAL TOGO 171 XXI. LETTERS OF INTEREST 180 XXII. A MEETING AND A PLOT 189 XXIII. THE ATTACK IN THE DARK 198 XXIV. THE DEFENSE OF THE POWDER TRAIN 206 XXV. BOMBARDING A PORT ARTHUR FORT 215 XXVI. BEN MEETS CAPTAIN BARUSKY 223 XXVII. A FIERCE BATTLE AT SEA 232 XXVIII. THE SIEGE OF PORT ARTHUR 240 XXIX. FROM ONE DIFFICULTY TO ANOTHER 248 XXX. A SURPRISE FOR LARRY 258 XXXI. A CALL TO REPEL BOARDERS 266 XXXII. FALL OF PORT ARTHUR--CONCLUSION 274 AT THE FALL OF PORT ARTHUR AT THE FALL OF PORT ARTHUR CHAPTER I LARRY AND HIS FRIENDS "Unless I miss my guess, Luke, we are going to have a storm." "Jest what I was thinking, Larry. And when it comes I allow as how it will be putty heavy," replied Luke Striker, casting an eye to the westward, where a small dark cloud was beginning to show above the horizon. "Well, we can't expect fine weather all the time," went on Larry Russell, inspecting the cloud with equal interest. "We want some wind anyway," he added. "We are not making this return trip to Nagasaki nearly as fast as we made the trip to Manila." Luke Striker, a bronzed and weather-beaten Yankee sailor, rubbed his chin reflectively. "I was jest thinking o' the day I spied the old _Columbia_ in Manila harbor," he said, meditatively. "Tell ye, Larry, the sight 'most struck me dumb. 'The _Columbia_,' sez I to myself. An' then I thought I must be a-dreamin'. I wanted to find this ship ag'in in the worst way." "The ship certainly seems like a home to me, Luke--and I reckon she always will seem that way. I've traveled a good many miles in her, since I first struck her at Honolulu in the Hawaiian Islands," responded Larry Russell. "Yes--both of us have. But we never took no trip like this afore--carryin' a cargo for the Japanese Government, with that government at war with Russia." Luke Striker lowered his voice. "What's the outlook? Does the old man reckon to fall in with a Russian warship afore we can reach Nagasaki?" "Hush, Luke; you mustn't mention our cargo," came from Larry Russell, hastily. "I ain't mentionin' it to anybody but you." "Captain Ponsberry is in hopes that we shall not meet any Russian warships." "But what if we do?" "Then we shall have to show our heels as best we can." "A sailing vessel can't show much o' a pair o' heels to a man-o'-war." "That is true." "I suppose, if the _Columbia_ was overhauled by a Russian warship, they'd consider us a prize of war; wouldn't they?" continued the old Yankee sailor. "They would, unless Captain Ponsberry could get out of it in some way." "How do you think he might get out of it?" "Well, you must remember that our cargo doesn't belong to the Japanese Government yet. We are carrying it from Manila to Nagasaki for the Richmond Importing Company. The Russians would have to prove their case against us before they could claim the schooner as a legitimate prize of war." "I see. Well, I reckon as how them Russians would do 'most anything to square accounts with the Japs. So far, accordin' to my notions, they have been losin' ground right along in this war." "Yes, and they'll lose more before the Japs are through with 'em, Luke. But that storm is coming up fast," went on Larry Russell, with another examination of the black cloud. "I'll have to tell the captain. If we don't shorten sail it may do us some damage." With the last-mentioned remark Larry Russell walked aft, toward the companionway of the _Columbia_, a staunch three-masted schooner that hailed from Gloucester. He was second mate of the craft and as such it was now his duty to inform Captain Nat Ponsberry that a storm was approaching. To those of my young friends who have read "Under Dewey at Manila" and other volumes of the "Old Glory Series" Larry Russell needs no introduction. He was one of three brothers, who, left in the charge of a miserly step-uncle, had thought it best to go away from home and seek fortune in various parts of the globe. Larry had drifted to San Francisco and then to Honolulu, where he had fallen in with Captain Nat Ponsberry and the _Columbia_, as already mentioned. He, with his sailor friend, Luke Striker, had been cast away, and while adrift on the Pacific had been picked up by the Asiatic Squadron under Commodore (afterward Admiral) Dewey, to serve with honor during the memorable battle of Manila Bay. Since those days a great many things had occurred to the Russell boys. Ben, the oldest of the three, had served as a young volunteer in Cuba during the advance on Santiago, and as an officer with the army in the Philippines, and Walter, the third brother, had served in the navy in Cuban waters and elsewhere. In the meantime the miserly step-uncle had reformed, and now thought "his three boys," as he called them, "the best young fellers in all America, barrin' none!" Larry Russell was a natural sailor, and when his term in the navy came to an end he could not bear to think of giving up the sea. He heard that his old ship was bound for a trip to Japan and other ports, and at once communicated with Captain Ponsberry, with the result that he became second mate of the schooner, the first mate being, as of old, Tom Grandon, a personal friend of Captain Ponsberry. At this time Walter Russell had gone into business, and was doing remarkably well. But Ben was doing nothing, and Larry persuaded his oldest brother to come aboard the ship at Manila, for the trip to Nagasaki and Port Arthur. This was just at the outbreak of the war between Russia and Japan, but the brothers at that time knew nothing about the tremendous conflict so close at hand. The _Columbia_ was carrying a cargo for the Richmond Importing Company, represented in Japan and China by Gilbert Pennington, who had served with Ben Russell in our army in Cuba and the Philippines. From Manila Gilbert had gone to China, to fight the Boxers, as already described in "On to Pekin," the first volume of this "Soldiers of Fortune Series." With the end of the Boxer conflict, Lieutenant Pennington, as he had then become, turned from war to business, and soon made a number of business transactions which were highly gratifying to the company that he represented. When the _Columbia_ arrived at Nagasaki, Captain Ponsberry learned that the war had begun and that to get to Port Arthur--a Russian stronghold in Manchuria--was out of the question. While he was awaiting orders Gilbert Pennington appeared on the scene. Gilbert had had great difficulties in getting away from Port Arthur, having been suspected by the Russian officials of being a spy. He wished to know at once if the ship's cargo was safe. "As safe as when we left home," had been Captain Ponsberry's reply. "Good!" answered the young agent, and then he wished to know if anything had been done about selling the goods. Captain Ponsberry replied that he had been ordered to do nothing until he received word from Gilbert. This suited the young representative; and the upshot of the matter was that the cargo, instead of going to a Russian port, was sold to the Japanese Government at a price considerably above the ordinary market value. Gilbert Pennington was enthusiastic about joining the Japanese army for a campaign in Manchuria and he imparted a large share of this enthusiasm to Ben Russell. As a result both enlisted and became captains in a special command, under a Major Okopa, who could speak very good English. The part of the army to which they were assigned landed at Chinampo, in Korea, and in the second volume of this series, called "Under the Mikado's Flag," I related the particulars of the crossing of the Yalu River and of the many skirmishes and battles leading up to the terrific ten-days' contest before Liao Yang. During these fights Ben and Gilbert did their full duty as officers, and when the Russians retreated to the North both were well content to take a much-needed rest. But additional struggles were still in store for them, as will be learned in the pages which follow. At first Larry Russell had been inclined to follow his brother and his friend Gilbert into the Japanese army. But Captain Ponsberry did not wish to lose his services as a second mate, and when it was decided that the _Columbia_ should make a quick run to Manila and back, for another cargo for the Japanese Government, he made up his mind to stick to the ship. The run to Manila from Nagasaki was made without special incident, and, once at the main seaport of the Philippines, Captain Ponsberry lost no time in getting on board the cargo the Richmond Importing Company had ready for him. The cargo was a valuable one and it was calculated that if rightly sold it would yield the company a profit of five or six thousand dollars. "You have got to take care and not run into any Russian warship," said the agent of the company at Manila. "If you do you may have a whole lot of trouble in explaining matters to the Russian commander's satisfaction. I see by the reports that the Russians have already held up several English and South American ships." "I shall keep a sharp lookout for 'em," was Captain Ponsberry's reply. "And another thing, Captain," went on the agent, in a lower tone; "you want to watch your crew." "What do you mean?" "I don't like the looks of two or three of them. For all you know they may be more than willing to expose you--if you fall in with the Russians. Can you trust your first and second mates?" "I can! They are as honest as myself." "Then caution them to keep an eye on the hands. One of those fellows looks like a Russian to me--the chap with the heavy black beard." "You mean Semmel. He says he is a Pole and that he hates the Russians." "Humph! Well, I saw him talking to a lot of Russians night before last. And when they passed a Jap the whole crowd jeered at the little brown man." "Semmel, too?" "Yes." "Then I shall watch him," answered Captain Ponsberry, decidedly. "Do, but don't let him know it. Some of these foreign sailors are ugly when they find out they are being suspected." "Trust me to manage him," returned the commander of the _Columbia_; and there the talk on the subject came to an end. CHAPTER II A STORM ON THE PACIFIC Larry found Captain Ponsberry working over a chart on the cabin table, laying out the course of the ship. The commander of the _Columbia_ was a bluff, hearty individual and he and the young second mate thought a great deal of each other. "Well, what is it?" asked the captain, looking up quickly. "I came to report that a storm is coming up from the west," answered Larry. "Humph! I was afraid we'd catch it sooner or later. Is it close up yet?" "It's coming up pretty fast." Captain Ponsberry said no more, but threw down his parallel rulers and his pencil. Catching up his cap, he mounted to the deck, and the young second mate followed at his heels. The captain gave a long look to the westward and then a gaze around the remainder of the horizon. "Tell Cal Vincent to call all hands to shorten sail!" he called out to Larry. "Tell 'em to tumble up quick, too--thet storm ain't none too far off for comfort!" Larry passed the word to Cal Vincent, who was the boatswain of the _Columbia_, and soon the whistle piped up shrilly, and those who were below or in the forecastle, came on deck in a hurry. Already the wind was freshening, ruffling up the whitecaps in all directions. The sky, that had been so blue a short while before, became leaden, and the depths of the ocean took on a somber hue. The barometer indicated a great and immediate change. "Lay aloft there, men!" cried Captain Ponsberry. "Our sails are mostly new and we don't want them ripped up if we can help it. Skip along there, Peterson!" The latter words to a big sailor who was moving across the deck at a snail's pace. The sailor addressed, scowled. It was not his watch on deck and he hated to have his midday nap disturbed. "Got a nail in ma boot," he said. "Well, haul it out--after the sails are trimmed," returned the captain, and then turned to another hand: "Semmel, what's the matter with you?" This to the suspicious-looking sailor with the heavy black beard. "Nodding," grumbled Semmel, and turned away sulkily. "Then get a move on, or we may lose a stick as well as a sail," and there followed a perfect volley of orders in a tone that none of the sailors misunderstood. Up to the yards they crawled like so many monkeys, and soon the creaking of halyard blocks was heard, as the topsails came down. The jib and flying jib were also taken in, and a little later the main-course and the mizzen-course. "Reckon we can stand the fore-course for a little while longer," said Captain Ponsberry to Tom Grandon. "What do you think?" "We can, unless it comes quicker nor it is coming now," returned the first mate. "Well, keep an eye on the wind and reef her as soon as it begins to look nasty," said Captain Ponsberry, and returned to the cabin, to finish his nautical calculations. The _Columbia_ had left the last of the Philippines behind and was headed north through the China Sea toward the lower extremity of Formosa. She was not as new a ship as when Larry had first boarded her at Honolulu, for since that time she had seen half a dozen years of hard service. But Captain Ponsberry was a careful man and believed in making repairs as soon as they were needed, so there was small danger of her opening her seams or going to pieces even in the stiffest of blows. She leaked a little--the best of ships do that--but a short pumping every morning kept the water at the bottom of the well. As second mate, it was Larry's duty to see that everything on the deck was "ship-shape," and this was especially necessary when a storm was coming up. He made a tour of the ship, his keen eyes taking in every detail. As it happened, an hour before he had set the sailor Semmel to work stowing away some odds and ends of rope. He had supposed that this task was long since finished, but now he found the ropes scattered about as before. "See here, Semmel," he called out, "why didn't you stow away those ropes as I told you?" "Stow dem avay in a leetle vile," answered the sailor with the heavy beard. "You'll stow them away now," returned Larry, sharply. He did not at all fancy the manner of the hand he was addressing. "I told you to do it an hour ago. We don't want anything loose on deck when this storm hits us." "Vincent kicked de ropes out dare," growled Semmel. "I had nodding to do mit 'em." "That isn't here or there. I told you to stow them away, and I want you to do it. If you don't, I'll have to report you to the captain." "Oh, I do him!" grumbled Semmel, but he glared at Larry as if he wished to chew the young second mate up. "You put all dare vork on me, hey?" he added, after a pause. "You've got to do your share of it." "Humph!" Semmel seemed on the point of saying more, but shut his teeth and began to arrange the ropes in proper order. Larry watched him for a moment and then walked away. As soon as his back was turned the sailor shook his fist at the young second mate. "You vait!" he muttered. "Chust vait, you Jankee rat!" The sky kept growing darker, and soon came a puff of wind much heavier than any that had gone before. The _Columbia_ had been moving over the waves on an even keel, but now she gave a sudden lurch to starboard. "Reckon it's time to take them reefs in the fore-course," said Grandon to Larry, and soon the sailors were at work on the sheets, leaving just sufficient canvas up to make the schooner mind her helm. It was hard work, for the sudden gusts made the sail snap and crack like a whip. So far it had not rained a drop, but now came a sudden downpour, the drops "as big as hen's eggs," to use Luke Striker's manner of describing them. Then came a flash of lightning out of the western sky, followed by a rumble of thunder. "This is going to be an old-time storm," was Larry's comment, as he met Luke Striker near the forecastle. "I'll have to get my oilskin out." Luke already had his raincoat on and soon the young mate was similarly provided. Wind and rain were increasing, and presently there came a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder that made everybody jump. The thunder brought Captain Ponsberry to the deck in a hurry. "Did that hit us?" he questioned, looking around anxiously. "No, sir, but it was pretty close," replied Grandon. "Is everything secure?" went on the commander, to Larry. "Yes, sir." It was difficult to converse further, for the wind was now whistling through the rigging, driving the rain in sheets across the deck. All had to hold fast for fear of being swept overboard. On every side the sea was lashing itself into a foam and the waves were growing higher and higher. At one instant the _Columbia_ would seem to be riding on top of a mountain, the next she would sink down and down into the trough of the sea. "Well, Larry, how do you like this?" questioned Captain Ponsberry, as he took a position beside the second mate. "Oh, I don't mind it at all," was the cheery answer. "I used to mind the storms, but I've got used to them." "This isn't a plaything we are getting." "Oh, I know that--you can see it by the way the wind is driving us. But we are not near any land, are we?" "No." "Then we'll be sure to outride it. I feel I can bank on the old _Columbia_ for almost anything." At this Captain Ponsberry laid an affectionate hand on his second mate's shoulder. "Reckon you love the old craft about as well as I do," he said. "I don't know about that--you've been on board so many more years than myself. But to me she is a second home." "I see. Well, let us hope we get through with this trip in safety." "Don't you imagine we'll do it?" questioned Larry, quickly. "Certainly. But you must remember that we may have trouble if we fall in with any Russian warship." Captain Ponsberry lowered his voice. "Did you have trouble with Semmel?" "A little. I ordered him to coil up some ropes and he didn't obey me right away. But he stowed them away afterwards." Captain Ponsberry drew a long breath. "The more I see of that chap the less I like him." "I never liked him from the start," answered Larry, frankly. "But you'll have to give him credit for being a good all-round sailor." "There is no doubt but what he is that, Larry. But he has a bad eye." "What do you think he could do to harm us?" "Nothing--unless we fell in with a Russian warship. In that case, if he was a Russian sympathizer, he might expose the fact that while we are carrying a cargo for the Richmond Importing Company the goods are really meant for the Japanese Government." "Does he know that?" "I'm not sure, one way or the other. What I am afraid of is, that he may know a good bit more nor we suspect." "I see." The young second mate mused for a moment. "I'll tell you what I'd do, if I thought he was going to play me foul--and we fell in with a Russian warship. I'd clap him below decks, out of sight until the warship went on her way again." "That's easily said; but I can't make him a prisoner unless I can prove something against him." "You can lock him up if he is sulky and won't obey orders." "Yes, that is true. Still----Phew!" The captain broke off short, for a vivid streak of lightning flared all over the upper masts of the ship. The thunder-clap was as sharp as it was deafening, and for the moment all on board thought the _Columbia_ had surely been struck. Then came a downpour which made even the boldest of the sailors seek shelter. "That was closer than I like," was Larry's comment, after it was ascertained that the ship was unharmed. "'Most knocked me overboard," came from Luke Striker. "Gosh! reckon my hair's singed," and he put up his hand and ran his fingers through his grayish locks. "Don't want another like thet nohow!" A few minutes later came another flash of lightning, but this was to the eastward, showing that the center of the storm had passed them. The wind was apparently going down, but the sea was as angry as ever and would be for hours to come. Luke had retired to the forecastle with several other sailors. Larry's watch on deck was also at an end, and he was just on the point of going below, when from the west came a curious humming sound which made the young second mate pause. The humming increased, and then of a sudden the _Columbia_ was caught in a hurricane blast that threw her far over on her side. "Help!" Larry heard, in the voice of Captain Ponsberry. "Somebody help me, quick, or I'll go overboard!" CHAPTER III LARRY LEARNS SOMETHING The accident which had happened to Captain Nat Ponsberry was certainly a curious one, although similar to that which once cost the life of a young officer in our navy. When the hurricane blast reached the _Columbia_, the captain was in the act of slipping on a lined raincoat,--a big affair, with long sleeves and an extra high collar. One arm was in the coat and the other was going down the sleeve when it caught in the lining. At that instant the shock threw the captain across the deck and almost over the railing. He caught at the railing with his free hand, but his other hand remained a prisoner in the coat sleeve, while the garment itself stuck in a bunch across his shoulders. "Help!" he roared again. He tried to pull himself up, and to free the hand in the sleeve, but found both impossible. Larry did not wait for a second cry for assistance. He knew the captain so well that he felt the officer would only call when in dire peril. He ran out on the slippery deck in double-quick order. "Hullo, where are you?" he yelled. "Here! Help!" The young second mate caught sight of the captain not a moment too soon. Another lurch of the _Columbia_ had thrown him completely over the rail, and there he clung with one hand, while the spray was flying all over him. Not waiting to count the possible cost, Larry slid rather than ran to the rail. Years before he had learned a trick which now stood him in good stead. He wound his legs around the under rail, catching the upper one with his left hand. Then he clutched Captain Ponsberry by the tangled-up arm. "On deck there!" he yelled. "Throw a rope this way, and hurry up about it!" "What's the trouble?" came from Tom Grandon, who had been in another part of the ship and had not heard the captain's cry. "The captain is almost overboard. Throw us a rope." Tom Grandon was quick to act. The rope came whizzing toward Larry, and in a twinkling he had it around his body and also around the captain. "Haul in!" he called, and Grandon and two sailors did so. Over the rail came Captain Ponsberry, still fighting to release the tangled-up arm. In a moment more all danger was past. "Well, how in the world did this happen?" questioned Grandon. "Tell ye--soon as I can git free o' this consarned coat!" spluttered Captain Ponsberry, and he gave the garment a jerk that ripped one of the sleeves completely in half. "Did ye ever see sech foolishness?" he added. And then he told how the lurch of the ship had carried him over the rail just when he could use but one hand. "After this I reckon I'll put on my coat afore I go on deck," he concluded. "It was a lucky thing that Larry heard you cry out," said the first mate. "I was at the wheel, helping Groot." "That's right, Tom." The captain turned to the youth. "Larry, you're a brave one, and always was. I ain't going to forget this!" "Oh, don't say anything about it," came from the young second mate, modestly. "I know you'd do as much for me, if I needed it." "Well, I would, an' there's my hand on it," cried Captain Ponsberry, heartily, and gave Larry a grip that made him wince. The storm kept up for the remainder of the day. But its worst fury was spent, and during the night the wind went down to nothing more than a stiff breeze, which was just what was wanted. All of the sails were again set; and the schooner resumed her course as before. Before leaving Manila Larry had purchased a number of newspapers printed in that city in English. So far he had had no chance to look the sheets over, but now came two days in which there was little to do, and he spent several hours in devouring the news, while he also let his friend Luke do some reading. "Tell ye what, this 'ere war between Russia and Japan is goin' to be a big thing," said Luke, after reading an account of the first fights on land and on sea. "It ain't goin' to be no such short affair as our little rumpus in Cuby." "You are right, Luke; this war is going to be a long and bitter one." "Who is goin' to win, do you think?" "I'm sure I don't know. Russia is a vast country, with millions of people and with an immense army and navy. I suppose she can put five times as many men in the field as Japan can." "But them Japs know how to fight." "Indeed they do--they have proved that already. And what is to their advantage, they are closer to Korea and Manchuria than Russia is. They can get on the fighting ground quicker,--which counts for a good deal." "How those Russians must have been astonished when the Japanese warships sailed into 'em at Port Arthur last February. I don't believe they were expecting an attack." "Hardly, for war had just been declared. But you wouldn't have caught Uncle Sam napping like that, Luke." "Right ye are, lad; it ain't his style. An' then to see how them Japs have been a-blowin' up the Russian warships ever since. They must have a fine navy." "Yes, and good gunners, too. I was told in Nagasaki that quite a few American gunners were on their ships--fellows who served under Dewey at Manila and under Sampson and Schley off Cuba." "I believe you, lad. When a feller gits it in his bones to fight on a warship there ain't no life on a merchantman goin' to satisfy him. Some jackies would rather fight nor eat--you know thet as well as I do." "Well, I shouldn't mind doing some fighting myself. You know I was on a stand about going with Ben and Gilbert Pennington." "Where do you reckon they are now?" "In Manchuria, I suppose, fighting as hard as they can. I thought I would get a letter from them before we left Manila, but nothing came." "I suppose the mails are all upset, on account of the war," put in Cal Vincent, who sat nearby, sewing a button on his shirt. "If you'll remember, Nagasaki was in a big state of excitement while we were there last." "Did they say anything about any Russian warships bein' in these parts?" questioned Luke. "No." "It would be strange if we did fall in with them." "Which puts me in mind," came from the boatswain, and then he gazed around to see if any other persons were near. "Semmel says he ain't no Russian, but it's dollars to doughnuts he is," he continued, in a lowered tone. "Have you discovered anything new?" demanded Larry. "Yes and no. Last night I overheard him and Peterson talking in a suspicious kind of a way. I didn't catch much, for they talked partly in English and partly in a foreign language. But I am sure they are favoring Russia, and Semmel said something about doing something to harm Japan." "I don't see how they could do anything on board of this ship," came from Luke. "You didn't hear anything definite?" "Can't say that I did," answered the boatswain. "We had better watch them closer than ever." "All right; I'll do my share," responded Vincent, and Luke Striker said the same. That very afternoon Larry had another quarrel with the sailor with the long beard. Semmel had a bucket of dirty water which he was carrying to the ship's side. As Larry passed he pretended to stub his toe and allowed some of the dirty water to flow over the young second mate's foot. "Semmel, what did you do that for?" cried Larry, indignantly. "Canno help dat," said the sailor. "I slip." "You did it on purpose!" "Oh, no!" And the sailor grinned wickedly. "I say you did. If you try anything like that again, I'll make it warm for you. Get a swab and clean the deck up at once!" As Semmel sauntered off, and while Larry was stamping the water from his shoe, Captain Ponsberry came up. He had seen the trick played from a distance. "What did you tell Semmel?" he questioned, sharply. "Told him to swab the deck up. I think he slopped the dirty water over me on purpose." "Just my idea of it. I'll tell him what I think of it." And striding after the bearded sailor Captain Ponsberry gave him a lecture not to be readily forgotten. "I won't have any of your dirty underhanded work aboard of my ship," he concluded. "Either you'll behave yourself, or I'll put you in irons." "In irons!" ejaculated Semmel, scowling viciously. "That is what I said and that is what I mean. Ever since you came on board you have been acting in this same dirty fashion and I want it stopped. Now swab up that deck, and see that you make a first-class job of it. For two pins I'd make you black Russell's shoes." "No black nobody's shoes," growled Semmel, but in such a low tone that Captain Ponsberry could not hear him. He cleaned the deck in his own ugly, independent manner, muttering imprecations against both Larry and the captain in the meantime. As a matter of fact, even though he had denied it to Captain Ponsberry and others, Ostag Semmel was really a Russian by birth, having been born and raised in the seaport of Kolaska. He had been drafted into the army, but not wishing to serve under a military rule which is unusually severe, he had run away to sea and become a sailor. Life on the ocean suited Semmel very well and he would have remained away from Russia had it not been for the fact that a rich uncle had died leaving him a property valued at two thousand dollars--a small fortune in the eyes of a man of this Russian's standing. He wished to go back to claim his inheritance, but feared to do so, for he knew that once on Russian soil he would be arrested for desertion, and might be sent to a military prison for a great number of years. From a friend in Manila he had heard of something which interested him greatly. This was the news that another deserter from the Russian army had been pardoned for his offense because he had taken home with him important news concerning the movements of a certain Japanese warship. "If I could only do as well," he told himself, over and over again, and then, when he signed articles for the _Columbia's_ trip, he listened eagerly to some talk he overheard about the ship's cargo. When he began to suspect the truth--that the cargo was meant for the Japanese Government--his eyes glistened cunningly. "If I can only let Russia know of this!" he reasoned. "All will go well with me. If I can only let Russia know!" CHAPTER IV THE RUSSIAN SAILOR'S PLOT Captain Ponsberry's stern manner made Ostag Semmel wild with hatred, and when he went back to the forecastle after swabbing up the deck he was in a fit mental condition for almost any dark deed. For a good half-hour he lay in his bunk in a corner, brooding over his ill-luck and wondering what he could do to revenge himself upon both the master of the schooner and Larry. Larry he especially disliked--the very open-heartedness of the young second mate made him long to do the lad harm. At the end of the half-hour another sailor came in. It was Carl Peterson, his close friend. Peterson was a burly tar who had visited nearly every quarter of the globe. He loved to drink and carouse, and was ever ready to lend a hand in any excitement that offered. There was a rumor that he had once led a mutiny on a Danish merchant vessel, but this he denied, laying the blame entirely on others. "Is that you, Peterson?" demanded Semmel, in his native tongue, for he knew that the other could speak Russian fluently. "Yes," came in a rough voice from Peterson. He gave a coarse laugh. "A fine job you made of it, to pour dirty water over Russell and then have to swab up the deck for it." "Who told you of that?" "Didn't I see it with my own eyes--and heard what the captain said, too." "Bah! It makes me sick!" growled Semmel. "I am sick of the ship--the crew--everything!" Peterson gave a short toss of his head, which was covered with a shock of fiery red hair. "What are you going to do about it? Even if the captain treats you like a dog, what shall you do, Ostag Semmel? He thinks we are all curs--door mats to wipe feet on!" "He shall find out that I am neither a dog nor a door mat!" muttered the bearded Russian. "By my right hand I promise you that!" "Talk is cheap--it takes wind to make the mill go," answered Peterson. To an outsider it would have been plain to see that he was leading Semmel on, in an endeavor to find out what was in his companion's mind. "It will not end in talk." "Bah! I have heard that before." "I have been thinking," went on Ostag Semmel, slowly. "Can I trust you?" "You know you can." "You do not love the captain--do not love that Russell?" "Do I act as if I did?" "Good! Now, how many on board of this ship?" "Fourteen men, counting in ourselves." "You count fairly. Fourteen, how many are our friends?" "Postnak and Conroy, at least." "Then we are four, so far. Now, what of Groot and Shamhaven and Jack Wilbur?" "Groot is a good fellow and a man who wishes to make money." "And Shamhaven will do almost anything for money--he once told me so. He took a sailor suit from a store in Manila without paying for it." "I know that too. The tailor was rich and didn't need the money," and Peterson gave another coarse laugh. "Then we are six--to stand up for our rights. And Jack Wilbur will make seven--just half the number on the ship." "How can we count that Wilbur in? He is a Yankee." "He is a weakling and we can manage him,--and I think we can manage some others, too--when we get that far." "How far do you mean?" demanded Peterson, although he knew about what was coming. "Is anybody else near here?" "No," and Peterson took a careful look around. "Supposing we seize the ship--in the name of the Russian Government? They have a Japanese cargo on board, the captain cannot deny it. We can take the ship, sail her to some Russian port, and win both prize money and glory. Is it not a grand scheme?" "Ha, that is fine!" Carl Peterson's eyes glowed voraciously. "Ostag, you are a man after my own heart! We might become rich!" "Then you like the plan?" "Yes--providing we can make it work. But it is a big undertaking. If we were caught we might swing from a yardarm for it." "We can make it work--I have another plan for that. I have thought it out completely. We can--but more later," and Ostag Semmel broke off abruptly, as several sailors entered the forecastle. A little later he began to complain in broken English to a sailor named Jack Wilbur that he was suffering from a severe stomach ache. "Sorry to hear on it," said Wilbur, who was a very mild foremast hand. "Anything I can do for you?" "I dink not," answered Semmel. "I dink de poor grub ve git mak me feel pad." "Didn't notice that the grub was poor," answered Wilbur. "Very poor--not so goot as py my las' ship," answered Semmel. "Some grub here not fit to eat." It was soon noised around that Semmel was not feeling well and that he had complained that the food dealt out at noontime had made him sick. As soon as Captain Ponsberry heard of this he went to interview Jeff, the colored cook, who, as of old, was singing gayly to himself among the pots and pans of the ship's galley. "Wasn't nuffin de mattah wid dat grub, Cap'n Ponsberry," exclaimed Jeff, after hearing what the commander of the ship had to say. "It was jess as good as we always has." "Was it thoroughly cooked?" "Yes, sah--I don't 'low nuffin to go from dis yere galley 'less it am well cooked." "Are your pots and kettles clean?" "Yes, sah--yo' can see fo' yourself, sah." The captain did see, and moreover he knew that Jeff was usually a careful and conscientious culinary artist who always gave the men the best his stock afforded. "Well, be careful of what you cook and how you cook it after this," said Captain Ponsberry. "Would yo' mind tellin' me, sah, who is kicking, sah?" asked Jeff, respectfully. "Semmel says he was made sick by what he ate." "Huh, dat scab!" grunted Jeff. "He ain't no 'count at all, he ain't!" And the cook turned away in disgust. "It looks to me as if Semmel was trying to make trouble all around," said Tom Grandon, when he and the captain and Larry talked the matter over. "I never liked that man from the first time I clapped eyes on him," came from Larry. "He's a sneak--and worse." "I shall watch him pretty closely after this," said Captain Ponsberry. "One discontented fellow like him can upset the whole ship if he sets out to do it." "They can't complain of the grub," went on the first mate. "It's as good as on any merchantman, and better than the law requires." "I guess it was the deck-swabbing that gave him the stomach ache," said Larry, and this made the captain and Grandon smile. The next day when the sailors sat down to their dinner two or three of them sniffed suspiciously at the food they were eating. "This don't taste just right to me," said Shamhaven. "The meat tastes decayed." "And the vegetables ain't much better," put in Conroy,--a sturdy Irish-American, who was one of the best seamen on the schooner. "Dat dinner am fust-class," cried Jeff. "I ain't gwine to stand yere an' see you growlin' at it." "It certainly tastes a bit off, Jeff," put in Jack Wilbur. "Taste it yourself." The cook did so, and his face looked doubtful for a moment. "Guess dat needs a little salt an' pepper," he said, slowly. It did not taste nearly as good as he had anticipated. As there was nothing else to do, and they were hungry, the men ate the meal, grumbling to themselves as they did so. Luke said but little and ate sparingly, and his example was followed by Cal Vincent. The captain, Grandon, and Larry ate in the cabin and the dinner served to them was first-class in every particular. "Guess Jeff is spreading himself, just to show what he can do," remarked Larry to the first mate, after he had finished his repast. "It's very good, Larry," answered Tom Grandon. By the middle of the afternoon three of the men were complaining of feeling sick and all attributed their ailments to what they had eaten for dinner. "Ha! vat I tole you?" cried Semmel. "Didn't I say de grub vos pad? Not maybe you belief me, hey?" "I shan't stand for any more poor grub," came from Shamhaven. "If I can't get good stuff I'm going to the captain about it." The sickness of the hands worried Captain Ponsberry greatly and he opened up his medicine chest and gave them such remedies as he thought were best. At supper time Jeff was extra cautious in selecting and preparing the food. Nevertheless, the men who ate of it were suspicious and more than half the meal went to waste. The captain was very thoughtful, but said little or nothing. On the following day the wind died down utterly and it was exceedingly warm. With nothing to do, the majority of the hands gathered at the bow to talk of matters in general, and the food in particular. Semmel and Peterson were of the number, and both did all in their power to magnify the outrage, as they termed it. "Der captain don't haf any right to gif us such grub," said Semmel. "It vos against der law." "On some ships there would be a mutiny over this," added Peterson. Larry overheard a part of the conversation and it set him thinking. Luke Striker also grew suspicious. "Unless I am mistaken, this is some of Semmel's work," said Larry to the old tar. "He is doing his level best to make trouble on the ship." "Well, he better mind his business," grumbled Luke. "I don't reckon the captain will stand fer any underhanded work." Without appearing to do so, Larry continued to keep his eyes on Semmel, and about an hour before dinner he saw the bearded sailor approach the cook's galley and look inside. Jeff was below, getting a case of canned goods. With a swift movement, Semmel stepped into the galley, raised the lid of a big pot full of stew that was on the stove, and sprinkled something over the food. Then he hurried out and sneaked forward once more. "The rascal!" murmured Larry. "So this is his game. I wonder what he put into that pot?" For the moment the young second mate thought to confront Semmel and demand an explanation. Then he changed his mind and hurried for the cabin, to tell the news to Captain Ponsberry. CHAPTER V SIGNS OF A MUTINY "I've found out something important, Captain Ponsberry," said Larry, as he entered the cabin. "I now know what's the matter with the grub." To all salt-water sailors food is grub and nothing else. "Well, what is the matter with it?" questioned the master of the _Columbia_, quickly. "It's being doctored, that's what's the matter." "Doctored?" "Yes, sir,--doctored by Semmel, too." "Will you explain what you mean, Larry?" demanded the captain, intensely interested. "I just saw that rascal go into the cook's galley. Jeff wasn't there, and Semmel took the lid off of a big pot on the stove and sprinkled something inside." "What!" Captain Ponsberry leaped to his feet "Are you certain of this?" he demanded. "I am--for I saw it with my own eyes." "What was that stuff he put into the pot?" "I don't know." "Did he touch anything else?" "No. He was in a tremendous hurry and wasn't in the galley more than a minute at the most." "The scoundrel!" Captain Ponsberry clenched his fists. "Larry, you are positive you are making no mistake?" "I saw the thing done just as I told you. The stuff was in a bit of white paper. When he went forward he threw the paper overboard." "Did anybody else see this?" "I don't think so. But----" At that moment came a knock on the cabin door and Luke Striker appeared. "Excuse me, sir," he said, touching his cap. "But I've got something important to report." "What is it, Striker?" "I jess see that air Semmel go in and out o' the cook's galley." "That is just what I am reporting!" cried Larry. "Did you see what he did, Luke?" "No. He wasn't in there only a minit. It looked suspicious to me, though--with all hands gittin' sick from the grub." "This is all the evidence I want," said Captain Ponsberry. "We'll soon make an end of this. Larry, send Semmel to me." The young second mate left the cabin with Luke and both hurried toward the bow, where Semmel and Peterson were conversing in low tones. "The captain wants to see you at once," said Larry to the bearded sailor. His tone was so sharp it made Semmel start. "Vat he vants?" he queried. "Go and find out for yourself." "Maybe you git me in droubles, hey?" and the bearded sailor scowled. "I reckon as how you're gittin' yourself into trouble," drawled Luke, dryly. "You keep your mouf shut!" cried Semmel. "I no talk to you, no!" "The captain wants you to report; are you going to do so or not?" demanded Larry. "Sure I go," answered Semmel, with a toss of his head, and he slouched toward the stern. His manner was so aggressive that Larry picked up a belaying pin before following him. Captain Ponsberry had just appeared on deck. He had armed himself with a short club,--a sure sign to those who knew him that something unusual was in the wind. His face was stern and forbidding, and all hands gathered around to see what was the trouble. "Semmel, I want to have a talk with you," he said, in a loud voice, as the bearded sailor came up. To this the sailor nodded but did not answer. "I want to know what you were doing in the cook's galley a short while ago." "De cook's galley?" The sailor acted as if he was puzzled. "I no go by de galley, captain." "You were in the galley and you put something into the stew-pot. What was it?" thundered Captain Ponsberry. "Tell me the truth, or I may take it into my head to break every bone in your body!" And he shook his club in the sailor's face. "I put noddings in de pot," cried Semmel. "I no go in de galley--I no been in de galley two, tree days. It is a lie!" "I saw you go in," came from Luke. "And so did I," added Larry. "And I saw you sprinkle something into the pot." "What, did dat good-fo'-nuffin furiner put somet'ing in ma eatin'?" shrieked Jeff, who had come up. "Oh,--yo'--yo'----" "Never mind, Jeff, I'll attend to this," interrupted the captain. "Yes, sah, but dat monkey-faced----" "Never mind now--fall back there," added the captain, and the cook fell back, but shook his fist at Semmel. "I not in de galley," reiterated the bearded sailor. "Russell an' Striker no tell de truth." "It is true," cried Larry. "Thet's so, an' you can't squirm out o' it," broke in Luke. "I saw ye as plain as day." "I want to know what you put into that stew-pot?" continued Captain Ponsberry. "I no go near de galley. I----" "I know you went into the galley and I know you put something into the stew. For the last time I ask you, what was it?" For reply Ostag Semmel simply shrugged his shoulders. "Are you going to tell me the truth?" "I reckon the truth ain't in him," grumbled Luke, under his breath. "I say noddings more," came sourly from the bearded sailor. "Put that man in irons," commanded Captain Ponsberry, turning quickly to Larry and Grandon. "If he won't talk now, perhaps he'll talk after he has spent a day in the brig." "Vat! you put me in irons!" shrieked Semmel. "You no got right to do dat, no!" "Haven't I?" answered Captain Ponsberry, in a voice that cut like a whip. "I'd like to see anybody dispute over it. Larry, Tom, do as I command." "Yes, sir," answered Larry, and ran off to get a pair of handcuffs while Tom Grandon stationed himself beside Ostag Semmel, belaying pin in hand. "You no mak me a prisoner!" fumed the bearded sailor. "You got no right!" He continued to rave, saying that it was a plot against him, because he had been the first to complain about the vile food served to the hands; that he had not been near the galley and that the captain, Grandon, and Larry knew it. He even appealed to the other sailors to stand by him, and several came forward to argue with Captain Ponsberry. But the master of the schooner was obstinate and would not listen. "I know what I am doing, men," he said, quickly but firmly. "He is a scoundrel and a spell in the brig will do him good. After this I reckon you'll find the grub all right." "I no like--" began Peterson, once more. "You shut up, Peterson, or I'll put you in the brig with Semmel," cut in the captain, and Peterson fell back with the rest, but with a brow that was dark and distrustful. By this time Larry had returned with the handcuffs and despite the resistance he offered, Ostag Semmel was made a prisoner. Then the first and the second mates led him to the schooner's brig,--a narrow, V-shaped room in the bow of the boat, usually used for storing lanterns and oil. The smell in the closet--for it was nothing else--was far from pleasant, and a day in the brig usually made a prisoner repent and promise to do better. "I mak trouble for dis!" growled Semmel, as the door was closed and bolted on him. "I mak trouble, yes! You got no right to do dis, no!" "And you haven't any right to doctor the grub," answered Larry, and then he and Grandon walked away. "That fellow is a first-class villain, to my way of reasoning," was the first mate's comment. "I believe he'd do almost anything to get square for this." After Ostag Semmel had been placed in the brig Captain Ponsberry called all hands to him once more and related what Luke and Larry had seen. The stew was inspected, but nothing suspicious could be seen about it. "If any of you want to try that stew you may do so," said the captain. "Of course, if Semmel didn't touch it there can be nothing in it that can hurt you." But all, even to Peterson, declined to even taste the food. It was one thing to think Semmel innocent but quite another to run the risk of being made sick or poisoned. In the end the stew was dumped overboard and Jeff prepared an entirely new dinner for all hands. "You must keep close watch on all of the men," said the captain to Larry and Grandon, when quietness had been restored. "Semmel was the worst of the lot, but I do not like the way Peterson and one or two others are acting." "I don't see what they can do," answered Larry. "They might start a mutiny," came from the first mate. "Would they dare go as far as that?" "Sometimes sailors get strange notions, and the old Harry himself can't stop them," said Captain Ponsberry. "A thing that in itself doesn't amount to much will start them off, and they'll imagine that everything is going wrong. When I was a lad, on board the _Mary Eliza_, Captain Snapper, we had a mutiny just because the coffee wasn't right." "Yes, and I can remember that they had a mutiny on the old brig _Chesterfield_ because Captain Roe's wife brought a cross-eyed yellow cat on board," added Grandon. "Not a man would hoist a sail until that feline was put ashore. And when, two months later, the brig lost her foremast in a gale, the sailors said it was on account of that same cat, she having scratched the mast before she was taken away!" "Well, I hope we don't have a mutiny," said Larry. "I'd like to suggest something, Captain Ponsberry," he went on, to the master of the _Columbia_. "Fire ahead, Larry." "You know we can trust Luke Striker. Why not have him report just what the other hands are doing?" "That's an idea, and I will act on it. Yes, I'd trust Striker as quick as I'd trust you. If there is to be trouble we certainly want to know of it as soon as possible," concluded the captain. CHAPTER VI THE FIGHT FOR THE SHIP The day to follow was Sunday, and contrary to expectations, it passed quietly. As there was hardly any wind, the old _Columbia_ made slow progress, and the sailors had little or nothing to do. As was his usual habit, Larry read his Bible, and Captain Ponsberry held a short church service, which less than half the crew attended. "It's plain to see that the men are sulky," said Tom Grandon, towards evening. "We are certain to hear something from them shortly." Luke had been told to report anything unusual, but it was not until after dark that he sought out Captain Ponsberry. "I ain't got much to say," said the old tar. "But to my mind Peterson, Groot, and Shamhaven are doin' a powerful lot of confabbin'. More'n that, I saw Peterson cleaning up a pistol he's got." "Are any of the other hands armed?" "I ain't seen no other shootin'-irons," answered Luke. The captain had expected to interview Semmel once more, but found the fellow so surly he gave up the attempt. As the brig was so hot and uncomfortable, the master of the schooner had the door fixed so it could be left open several inches, with a chain at the bolt to keep it from going further. At four o'clock Monday morning Peterson came on duty, followed by Shamhaven and some others. All made their way to the bow and began to talk in a low but earnest fashion. Then Peterson went below, to where Semmel was still confined in the brig. "We are ready to move now," said he, in Russian. "What do you think?" "Let me out and I will show you what I think," growled Ostag Semmel. "The captain is a dog--and Grandon and Russell are dogs, too!" Peterson was prepared to unlock the chain which held the brig door and did so. Then he handed a pistol to the Russian. "The captain and Russell are in their staterooms," said Peterson. "Only Grandon is on deck, with Vincent and with the men we can trust to help us." "We can't trust Vincent." "I know that." "Where is Striker?" "Asleep in his berth." But on this score Carl Peterson was mistaken. Luke had pretended to go to sleep, but he was now in a corner on deck, watching with keen eyes all that was occurring. Presently he saw Semmel in company with Peterson hurry towards the bow, and he felt that the time for action had arrived. "Hi, Mr. Grandon!" he called out, running up to the first mate. "What is it, Striker?" "They've released Semmel and they are arming themselves." "You don't say!" Tom Grandon was stunned for the instant. "Tell the captain and Russell of this at once!" "Aye, aye, sir!" Rushing down the companionway, Luke entered the cabin and knocked on the door of Captain Ponsberry's stateroom. "Wake up, captain!" he called, loudly. "Wake up! There is going to be trouble putty quick, to my way o' thinkin'!" "What has gone wrong now?" demanded the master of the _Columbia_, as he hurried into his clothes and armed himself. "Where is Grandon?" "On deck; he sent me to tell you. They have set Semmel free and some of 'em are arming themselves." "A mutiny!" roared Captain Ponsberry. "Striker, you'll stand by me, of course?" "That I will, sir--to the end." "Good. I know Vincent will do the same. Do you know anything about the others?" "I think you can count on Jeff the cook." "What of Wilbur?" "He's so weak-kneed I don't know what he'll do," answered Striker. By this time Larry was out of his stateroom. With his door ajar he had heard all that had been said. "Oh, Luke, do you think they'll try to seize the ship?" he gasped. "Don't know what they'll do. They're a plumb crazy lot," growled the old tar. "It was a mistake to take such fellers as Semmel and Peterson and Shamhaven aboard." "That is true, but when Devine and Larson got sick and went to the hospital at Manila I had to get somebody," answered Captain Ponsberry. He brought out several pistols. "Here, Larry, take one of these, and a cutlass, too, and you, Striker, can arm yourself likewise." There was no time to answer, for the master of the schooner was already striding through the cabin in the direction of the companionway. An instant later came a yell from the deck, followed by heavy footsteps and then the report of a pistol. "Drive dem to de cabin!" came in the voice of Semmel. "Drive dem along, kvick!" And then followed another yell and the sounds of half a dozen blows. "Below there!" came in Tom Grandon's voice. "Help! help!" "I'm coming!" called up Captain Ponsberry. "Don't you dare to step on deck, captain!" yelled down the voice of Shamhaven. "Don't you dare to do it!" And the sailor appeared, pistol in hand, at the top of the companionway. "Shamhaven, what does this mean?" demanded the master of the _Columbia_. "It means that we have taken possession of the ship, that's what it means," came from Groot. "Of you come up here, you maybe git killed," put in Ostag Semmel. "You stay down dare, you hear?" And then, as the captain started to mount the stairs, he threw down a belaying pin. In the semi-darkness the captain did not see the object, and it struck him on the top of the head, rendering him partly unconscious. Larry and Luke were close behind their leader and both were alarmed to see him go down, uttering a deep groan as he did so. "Is he killed?" questioned the young second mate. "I don't know," was the old tar's response. "Shall we go up?" "Keep back there!" was the call from above. "Put a step on those stairs and it will be the worse for you!" At that moment came a cry from Cal Vincent. The boatswain had been attacked from behind and was given no chance to defend himself. Then came a roar from Jeff, who came rushing toward the companionway as if all the demons of the deep were behind him. "Sabe me! sabe me!" he screamed. "Da is gwine to pirate de ship! Sabe me!" And then he came plunging down headlong, directly on top of Larry, Luke, and the prostrate captain. This unexpected coming of Jeff sent the young second mate and the old tar flat on Captain Ponsberry, and for the moment there was a struggle all around. In the meantime some sailors on the deck began to drag a heavy hatch toward the stairs. Soon this was placed in position, and then those below were virtually prisoners. "Oh my, sabe me!" groaned Jeff once more, as he managed to get on his feet in the cabin, followed by Larry and Luke. "Don't you let dem swing me from de yardarm!" "Jeff, where are Grandon and Vincent?" demanded Larry. "I dunno, sah--dead, I guess," answered the cook. "Oh, dis am de awfulest t'ing wot I eber heard tell ob!" he added, woefully, and wrung his hands. The lantern in the cabin was turned up and Larry gave his attention once more to Captain Ponsberry, who was now opening his eyes. "Oh, my head!" came with a shiver. "My head!" "I'm glad they didn't kill you," said Larry, kindly. "Luke, help me carry him into the cabin. We'll put him on the couch." This was done, and they did what they could to make the master of the schooner comfortable. But it was a good half-hour before Captain Ponsberry could sit up and do any rational thinking. On deck all had become suddenly quiet. Occasionally those below could hear a footstep near the companionway, showing that one or more of the mutineers were on guard. The hatch shut off the view on deck, and the windows in the ceiling of the cabin were also boarded over from the outside. "They have us like rats in a trap," said Larry, bitterly. "And for all we know Vincent and Grandon are both dead," returned Luke Striker, soberly. "I must say, lad, we seem to be in a bad way and no mistake." "Dey'll throw us overboard, I know dey will!" groaned Jeff, who was almost white with terror. "I neber see sech goin's-on in all ma life!" To fight the mutineers further was, just then, out of the question, and Larry turned his attention again to Captain Ponsberry. At last the captain seemed fully to comprehend what had occurred. He once more moved toward the companionway, pistol in hand. "You can't get out that way, sir," said Larry. "They have placed the fore hatch over the stairs." "And they are armed, too," put in Luke. "Be careful, sir, or they'll shoot you down." "And this on my own ship!" came bitterly from the master of the _Columbia_. "That is what I get for treating the dogs better than they deserve. Where are Grandon and Vincent?" "Either shot down or taken prisoners. They called for help, and that was the last we heard of them." "And are all the others in this dastardly plot?" "I reckon they are," answered Luke. "Them foreigners, Semmel an' Peterson, must have stirred 'em up powerfully." Still weak from the blow received, Captain Ponsberry sank down once more on the cabin couch. There was a lump as big as a walnut on the top of his head, and he had Jeff bathe it with water and then with witch-hazel, which made it a trifle more comfortable. A short while later came a sudden wild song from the deck of the schooner, followed by a clinking of glasses. "They are treating themselves to grog," said Luke. "I suppose, now they have the run of things, they'll drink all they want of the stuff." "More than likely," returned the captain. "Well, it is their turn just now--perhaps before long it will be my turn!" And he smiled significantly. CHAPTER VII THE MUTINEERS IN POSSESSION As my old readers know, both Captain Ponsberry and Luke Striker were Yankees to the backbone, and it galled them exceedingly to see the schooner in the hands of a number of mutineers, and especially foreigners. "We've got to git the ship back, no two ways on it," growled the old tar. "Captain, I'm willin' to fight to the end, if ye give the word." "And I'll fight, too," said Larry, promptly. "Don't you go fo' to fight dem rascallions!" whined Jeff. "Yo' will all be killed suah!" "I would like to know what has become of Grandon and Vincent," came from Captain Ponsberry. "As we stand now, we are but four to seven or eight. If we could get Grandon and Vincent to aid us we would be six against them." "Perhaps all the hands are not in the mutiny," suggested Larry. "Why not try to sound them?" "I was thinking of doing that." A little later Captain Ponsberry called up the companionway. At first nobody paid any attention to him, but presently the hatch was shoved aside a few inches and Ostag Semmel looked down. Behind him was Shamhaven. "Semmel, what does this mean?" asked the captain, as calmly as he could. "It means dat ve haf de ship," replied the Russian, with a grin. "You are carrying matters with a very high hand. Where are Grandon and Vincent?" "I not tell you dat." "We had a right to mutiny," said Shamhaven. "The grub wasn't fit to eat and was getting worse every day." "That's a tale gotten up for the occasion, Shamhaven, and you know it. Semmel doctored the food to make you dissatisfied." "Well, we don't think so," grumbled the sailor. "I don't think so, and Groot and the others don't either." "Has Jack Wilbur joined you?" "Certainly he has," was Shamhaven's ready reply, but his look belied his words. "Ve are all pount to stick togedder," said Semmel. "You might as vell gif up--der sooner der petter for you!" "I don't propose to give up, you rascal." "Ton't you call me a rascals, no!" shouted Ostag Semmel. "I vos now der captains, yes, do you hear? Captain Semmel!" "Bosh!" put in Luke Striker, in disgust. "Why ye ain't fit to be the skipper 'f a canal-boat!" "If you try to navigate the ship you'll sink her on the rocks," put in Larry. "You had better consider what you are doing, Shamhaven," went on the master of the _Columbia_. "Remember, if I regain possession of the schooner I can make it go hard with you." "You no get dare schooner again, not much!" came from Peterson, who had just come up, followed by Jack Wilbur. "Wilbur, are you in this?" demanded the captain. "If you are, I must confess I didn't think it of you." "I ain't goin' to eat poor grub," answered Wilbur, lamely. "The grub is all right and you know it. It was doctored up by Semmel, and I----" "You stop dat talk!" roared Semmel, and then he added: "Maybe you gif in after you are goot an' hungry, hey?" "What, do you want to starve us out?" cried Larry. "You see--chust vait!" answered the Russian, and with this the hatch was again put in place and the conference came to an end. Captain Ponsberry was fairly boiling with wrath, but even so he realized that prudence is often the better part of valor. "There is no use of trying a rush to the deck," he said. "Those rascals would surely shoot us down. Just now some of them are in the humor for anything." "Perhaps we can do something to-night," suggested Larry. "They talk about starving us out," said Luke. "Ain't there nothin' to eat here?" An inspection was made of the cabin pantry, which brought to light some preserves, some pickles, a pot of cheese, and a tin of fancy crackers. "About enough for one meal," said Captain Ponsberry, grimly. "And a pretty slim one at that," added Larry. "But I say, captain," he added, suddenly, "isn't there a door leading from the back of the pantry down into the hold?" "There was once--but I had it nailed up years ago, for we never used it." "If we can open that, we might get something from the hold." "Going to eat machinery?" demanded Luke. "No--canned goods, Luke; I know Jeff had some placed there, for he didn't have room in his store-room." "Dat am a fac'," put in the cook. "I'se got lots ob t'ings in dat dar hold." "Then that settles the starving question," said Captain Ponsberry. "I've got a small saw and a hammer down here somewhere. We can use them on the door." "And that gives me another idea," went on Larry. "The hatch covering over the companionway belongs to the fore hatch. If we can reach that opening from here, why can't we steal on deck when we get the chance and try to make the mutineers prisoners?" "Eureka!" shouted Luke. "That's the talk, Larry. Fer your years you've got a wonderfully long head on ye. We'll make 'em prisoners or chuck 'em overboard!" "The idea is worth considering," said the captain. "But we must be careful." A search was made and the hammer, small saw, and also a chisel were found. Then they cleaned out the pantry, took down several shelves, and thus uncovered the small door which had been nailed up. "Don't make any noise, or they'll suspect that we are up to something," said Captain Ponsberry. "Let Jeff rattle some dishes," said Larry, and while he and Luke worked on the door, the cook began to handle the dishes in such a rough manner that several were broken. He also tried to sing a couple of verses of his favorite song, "My Gal Susannah!" but his voice was so shaky that the effort was, artistically, a failure, although it added to the noise, which was all that was desired. "They're pretty happy down there," said Wilbur to Shamhaven, as he listened to the sounds. "Oh, they're putting on a front," growled Shamhaven. "They'll sing a different tune when their stomachs are empty." "I don't know about this mutiny," went on the weak-kneed sailor, nervously. "Oh, it's all right and you needn't to worry, Wilbur. If we stick together we'll make a couple of thousand apiece out of this game." "But what shall we do if we fall in with a Russian warship?" "Semmel has that all fixed. He'll expose the captain and state that the _Columbia_ is carrying a cargo for the Japanese Government, and that he took possession in the name of the Czar. With this war on they won't ask too many questions so long as they can give the Japs a black eye." "I see. But supposing we fall in with a Japanese warship?" "Then Semmel is going to turn the command over to me and I'll tell them that the cargo was really meant for the Japanese Government but that Captain Ponsberry, just before we left Manila, sold out to the Russian agents and was going to Vladivostok. I'll add that we refused to go to the Russian port after signing for Nagasaki, and all of the men can back me up. That will put the captain and his friends in limbo and give us some prize money. Oh, we'll come out ahead, don't you worry," concluded Shamhaven, confidently. The day passed slowly and the mutineers held several meetings, to settle upon just what they were going to do. But all had been drinking more than was good for them and the conferences ended in nothing but talk. Semmel was the accepted leader, but it was plain to see that Shamhaven objected strongly to playing a secondary part, and Peterson also wanted a large "finger in the pie." As they worked with care, it was a good hour and a half before Larry and Luke managed to take down the door leading into the hold. Even when this was done they found on the other side several heavy cases of machinery almost impossible to budge. "We can pry those out of the way," said the captain. "A foot or so will do it," returned Larry. "Then I think I can crawl over the top." They continued the work, and a little later the young second mate was able to squeeze his way to the top of the cargo in that vicinity. "Be careful, Larry," warned the captain. "If a case should shift with the ship you might get a crushed leg. You had better take a candle along." "I will, sir." Luke was as anxious to get into the hold as the young second mate, and he too squeezed his tall, lank form through the opening. Guided by the faint light of the candle, they crawled over a number of cases of machinery and war goods until they drew close to the middle of the ship. "Here we are!" cried Larry, in a low voice, and pointed to some cases of canned goods. "Beans, corn, tomatoes, salt pork, condensed milk--we won't starve just yet, Luke." "An' here are some barrels o' flour," added the old tar. "No, they can't starve us nohow now." They had brought the chisel and hammer along, and with extra caution opened some of the cases. Taking with them all the goods they could carry, they returned to the cabin. "This is splendid!" cried Captain Ponsberry. "With this stuff on hand we can hold the cabin indefinitely." "How is I gwine to cook?" questioned Jeff. "Over the two lanterns, Jeff. It will be slow work, but our time is our own. Luckily there are pots and tins in the pantry." "All right, sah." "Of course, I am hoping that we shall not have to stay here long," went on the captain. "But it is best to be prepared." That those on deck might not see the cooking going on, one of the staterooms was cleaned out and Jeff went to work in this. In the meantime Semmel called down the companionway once more. "Are you gettin' hungry?" he asked. "Tell him yes," whispered Larry. "Why?" questioned the captain, in an equally low tone. "Then he'll think we are getting ready to come to terms and he won't watch us so closely." "I see." Captain Ponsberry raised his voice. "Yes, we are hungry," he called up. "What are you going to send us, something good?" "Ve send noddings. Maybe you talk business soon, hey?" continued the rascally Russian. "Perhaps." "How soon?" "Well, perhaps to-morrow morning." "Not before dot, hey?" "No." "All right den; you can go on an' starve so long!" growled Ostag Semmel, and went away. A moment later he met Shamhaven. "What did he say?" asked the latter, anxiously. "He comes to terms to-morrow!" answered the Russian, triumphantly. CHAPTER VIII TURNING THE TABLES The meal which Jeff prepared put all in the cabin in better humor, and as soon as it was over a council of war was held. It was decided to wait until darkness had set in, and then try to gain the deck of the ship by way of the fore hatch. In the meantime the door to the companionway was to be locked and barred, so that the mutineers could not attack them very well from that direction, should a running fight ensue. As Jeff would be of no use in a struggle he was delegated to remain in the cabin, to make as much noise as possible, singing and talking to himself, so that the mutineers might not suspect what was taking place. Each member of the party armed himself both with a pistol and a cutlass, and Larry led the way as before, candle in hand. It was easy for Luke to follow him, but rather difficult for the captain, who was more portly. "Reckon as how ye shouldn't have eaten so much, captain," chuckled the old tar, as he helped Captain Ponsberry through a particularly narrow place. "True, Striker," was the answer. "But you be careful that you don't slip into some slit between the cases and go out of sight." They soon gained the spot where the canned goods had been found. They had now to climb over some machinery that reached nearly to the top of the hold, and then over a varied collection of boxes and barrels and bags. On the bags lay some of the old sails of the ship and several coils of discarded rope. They were just approaching the open fore hatch when they saw a rope ladder let down. Instantly Larry uttered a warning and put out the light. "Somebody is coming down," he whispered. It was the sailor Wilbur, who had been sent to get some canned goods for cooking purposes. He came down the rope ladder with a lantern slung over one arm. "We'll make him a prisoner!" cried Captain Ponsberry. "And let us do it as quietly as we can, so as not to disturb those on deck." The others understood and crouched back in the darkness. Then, as Wilbur passed them, the captain caught him from the back and Larry clapped a hand over the fellow's mouth. "Oh!" spluttered Wilbur, but that was as far as he got. "Not a word! Not a sound, Wilbur!" said Captain Ponsberry, earnestly. The sailor understood, and being a craven at heart he almost collapsed. It was an easy matter to take one of the old ropes and tie his hands behind him. Then Captain Ponsberry confronted the mutineer, making a liberal exhibition of his pistol as he did so. "Wilbur, answer me truthfully," said the master of the _Columbia_. "Are you all in this mutiny or not? Don't speak above a whisper." "I ain't in it!" whined Wilbur. "They dragged me in, they did. I ain't kicking about grub, or nothing!" "Are all the others in it?" "Kind of, yes. Groot didn't care much to go in. Guess he wish he was out of it now." "What has become of Grandon and Vincent?" "Both of 'em are prisoners in the brig." "Are they wounded?" "Not much. Grandon had his thumb cut and Vincent got a kick in the back that lamed him." "Is anybody guarding them?" "I guess not. All of 'em have got to drinking again. Say, captain, let me out of this fix and I'll never go against you again, never," continued Wilbur, earnestly. "We'll see about that later," was the grim reply. "Captain Ponsberry, I have a scheme," put in Larry, and he drew the master of the ship to one side. "Wilbur is about the same build as myself. Let me take his coat and cap and go on deck and down to the brig. If I can release Grandon and Vincent we'll be sure to knock out the mutiny in no time." "It's a dangerous game, Larry." "Oh, please let me do it!" pleaded the young second mate. The hazard was one which appealed to him strongly. The matter was talked over for a few minutes and it was decided to let Larry have his way. Wilbur was soon stripped of his coat and the young second mate donned the garment. Then he took the mutineer's cap and pulled it as far over his brow as possible and turned up the coat collar. "I'll leave the lantern here," he said, and a second later was mounting the rope ladder slowly and cautiously. With his head on a level with the deck Larry paused to reconnoiter the situation. He knew exactly how dangerous his mission was and that he was running the risk of being shot. But his life in our navy had made him bold, and seeing nobody in sight, he leaped out on deck, and hurried with all speed to the ladder leading to the brig. Soon he was in front of the barred door. "Grandon! Vincent!" he called, softly. "Hullo, who's that?" came in the voice of the first mate. "It is I, Larry. Is Vincent there?" "Yes. Where did you come from?" "The cabin." Larry unbarred the door. "Are you hurt?" "Not much. How are you?" "I am all right, and so are the captain and Luke Striker. They are in the hold, ready to come on deck. We have made Wilbur a prisoner." "Good enough," came from the boatswain. "The rascals! They ought all to walk the plank!" he added, vehemently. The two men had their hands tied behind them, but it was an easy matter for Larry to liberate them. Then each provided himself with a belaying pin, and all three of the party stole to the deck. From the forecastle and the cook's galley came loud talking, showing that the mutineers were making themselves at home. One man was trying to do some cooking. "What's keeping Wilbur so long?" he demanded of the others. Nobody knew, and one of the crowd, the sailor named Groot, volunteered to look the missing one up. "Let us follow him to the hatch," whispered Larry. "Perhaps we can make him a prisoner." "Right you are," answered Tom Grandon. With caution they came up behind the man, and just as Groot leaned over the open hatchway, they caught him tightly. "Keep silent, Groot!" said Grandon. "Keep silent, or we'll throw you overboard." "Stop!" roared the mutineer. "Help! hel----" He got no further, for raising his belaying pin, Vincent brought it down on the mutineer's head. Groot had been the one to lame the boatswain's back and the latter had not forgotten it. Over went the fellow and sank down as if dead. "Drop him into the hold," ordered Grandon, and this was done just as Captain Ponsberry and Luke Striker appeared at the foot of the rope ladder. "Another, eh?" said the master of the _Columbia_. "Good enough! How are you, Tom? How are you, Vincent?" "We're ready to fight 'em," answered the first mate. "Come on! They've got so much liquor aboard they can't do much to us!" "Be careful, I don't want anybody shot if it can be avoided," responded Captain Ponsberry. "I think it would be a good plan to dump them all into the hold," said Larry. "Then we could nail up that pantry door, put the hatch into place, and keep them at our mercy." "If the plan will work, it's a good one," answered the captain. One after another they came out on deck, leaving Wilbur and Groot in the hold. They found the mutineers equally divided between the galley and the forecastle. The only man in charge of the schooner was Conroy, who was at the wheel. As they advanced upon the forecastle they saw Semmel come out, accompanied by Peterson. "There are the ringleaders!" cried Captain Ponsberry, and rushing up to them he exclaimed: "Surrender, you rascals!" And he aimed his pistol, while the others also raised their weapons. The Russian and his companion were taken completely by surprise, and before they could draw any weapons of their own it was too late. Grandon tripped one up and fell upon him, and then Vincent and Larry tripped up the other. There was a brief scuffle, the exchange of several blows which did little damage, and in a trice Semmel and Peterson were thrown down into the hold bodily, and the ladder was hauled up out of their reach. "Put that hatch over the opening," cried Captain Ponsberry to Larry. "And then go into the cabin pantry and nail up that door. Be quick about it, or they may get out!" "Aye, aye, sir!" cried the young second mate, and ran off with all speed. The hatch was large and heavy, but the excitement lent him strength and he dragged it forward and threw it over the hatchway. "Stop dat!" roared Semmel, in a drunken voice, but Larry paid no attention. His next movement was toward the cabin. "Don't yo' tech me!" roared Jeff, in alarm. "Oh, it am yo'!" he added, as he recognized Larry. "How am de battle gwine?" "We've got 'em on the run--four are prisoners in the hold," was Larry's reply. "Get me that box of nails, Jeff--I must put that door back as it was!" "Yes, sah; yes, sah!" answered the cook, eagerly, and brought forth the nails in question. Then he helped to put the door into place, and held it while Larry nailed the barrier. The job was just completed when the young second mate heard voices from the hold. "Hi, dare, you let us out," came from Peterson. "Ve vill mak it right, yes!" "You keep quiet," ordered Larry, and would say no more. Against the door he and Jeff placed several trunks and boxes taken from the staterooms opening off of the cabin. During this time the party led by Captain Ponsberry had attacked the balance of the mutineers. There was a brief fight and Shamhaven got a cutlass cut on the knee. But then the men surrendered, and one after another was made to drop down into the hold, and the hatch was shut and battened down. The only man who was not thus made a prisoner was Conroy, who begged at once to be forgiven. "They got me to drink, captain," he pleaded. "I didn't know what I was doing. Forgive it, and I'll be the best man you ever had on board." "Can I depend upon you, Conroy?" asked Captain Ponsberry, sternly. "You can, sir--I give you my word on it." "You won't try to help the mutineers?" "No, sir; no, sir!" "Very well then, I'll try you. But, remember, if you try any dirty work it will go hard with you. Now tell me, was Wilbur in favor of this mutiny?" "No, sir, he was not. Semmel forced him into it." "What of the others. Who were the ringleaders?" "Semmel and Peterson and Shamhaven. The others didn't want to do anything but complain about the grub," answered Conroy, and then told the particulars of the mutiny from beginning to end. CHAPTER IX CLOSE TO A WATERSPOUT It was decided to leave the mutineers in the hold undisturbed until morning. This done, those who had been hurt in the scrimmage had their wounds attended to, and then Jeff was set to work to prepare a good meal for all the loyal party. The galley was in a state of disorder, but this counted for nothing, and Jeff soon had matters straightened out. After so much excitement nobody thought of retiring. Luke was stationed over the fore hatch, to give warning of any attempt on the part of the mutineers to regain their liberty. He was armed and he threatened to "blow the hull head off" of anybody who dared to show himself or make a noise. As a consequence the mutineers did nothing. Two made their way to the nailed-up door, but finding they could not open it, gave up the attempt as a bad job. As a punishment for his misdeeds Conroy was kept at the wheel during the whole of the night. He was willing enough to do the extra work if only the captain would forgive him for his actions. The master of the ship questioned him closely, and in the end reached the conclusion that only Semmel, Peterson, and Shamhaven were the leaders in the attempt to seize the ship and that the others had followed after them like so many sheep. "I am glad to hear this," he said to Grandon and Larry. "I think after I read them a strong lecture they'll behave themselves." "But we shall have to watch 'em closely," said the first mate. "What will you do with Semmel, Peterson, and Shamhaven?" asked Larry. "Put them in irons and keep them there until the end of the trip. When we reach Nagasaki they can take their choice of leaving or of being kicked off the ship. If they raise a row I'll hand them over to the authorities." "You ought to have them locked up." "True, lad; but with this war on hand the courts won't want to bother with such a case." It was not until nine o'clock in the morning that Captain Ponsberry had the forward hatch raised once more. Those below were almost dying for fresh air and water. "I want Wilbur to come up," he said. "Can't we have some water?" demanded Shamhaven. "Yes, if you'll behave yourselves," was the short answer. There was a babble of voices, but the master of the ship paid no attention. Each man who had been thrown below was unarmed, so there was no danger of any shooting. Presently Wilbur came up the rope ladder thrown to him, looking sheepish enough. "What have you to say for yourself?" demanded the captain, when Wilbur threw himself on his knees. "Don't count it against me, cap'!" he groaned. "I didn't want to go into it, I tell you! I didn't want to go in!" "If I forgive you, will you give me your word to behave yourself?" "Yes, sir!" "You won't do any more underhanded work?" "You can shoot me if I do, captain." "Very well; I'll remember that. Now go forward and help put the ship in good order. Larry, set him to work, and see that he does just what you tell him." And Wilbur went off, with the young second mate following, thanking his stars that he had not been swung to the yardarm, for mutiny on the high seas is a capital offense. One by one the mutineers were allowed to come on deck, until only Semmel, Peterson, and Shamhaven remained below. Those to come up pleaded to be forgiven and promised to obey orders in the future and let the captain run the ship to suit himself. During the night, Groot had had a bitter quarrel with Semmel, and the Russian appeared presently with a black eye and two of his front teeth loose. He was promptly put in irons, and the handcuffing of Peterson and Shamhaven followed. "I have allowed the other men their liberty because you three led them into this affair," said Captain Ponsberry to the trio of rascals. "I intend to keep you in irons until the end of the trip." At this there was a loud complaint, and the three made all manner of protestations, but the master of the _Columbia_ was obdurate, and at last threatened to throw them into the hold again. This quieted them for the time being, and after being given a square meal and a drink of water, they were marched off to the brig, which was cleaned of everything else for their accommodation. Fortunately for the _Columbia_ the weather remained fair, so that the loss of the prisoners was not felt when it came to handling the schooner. Those who had mutinied were only too glad to get back into Captain Ponsberry's good graces and they did whatever was required with an alacrity which was as astonishing as it was gratifying. They ate whatever was set before them, and soon reached the conclusion that the food was really better than they deserved. "We were fools to follow Semmel," said Wilbur; and Conroy and some others fully agreed with him. But though it now looked as if the men could be trusted, Captain Ponsberry determined to keep his eyes on them. Vincent was placed at the head of one watch and Luke at the head of the other, so that, with one or the other of the mates, the deck was always guarded by at least two persons that could be depended upon. The captain had hoped for favorable breezes following the heavy storm, but these did not come, and day after day passed with the old _Columbia_ making slow progress toward Nagasaki. Formosa was passed during a bit of thick weather, so that nothing was seen of that island. Then the sun came out again, hotter than ever, so that Larry was glad to keep in the shade as much as possible. "It's not so exciting as it was a few days ago," remarked Luke to Larry one day, when both were seated in the shade of the forecastle. "I am glad that mutiny is at an end," answered Larry. "It's a great wonder that somebody wasn't killed or seriously wounded." "The men didn't have their hearts in the rumpus, thet's why, Larry. If they had really meant business--well, I reckon some of us wouldn't be here now to tell the tale." "I think Semmel meant business." "Yes, he's a heap sight worse nor any o' the others." "It was a mistake to take him on board. I tell you, a captain can't be too careful who he puts in his forecastle." "Well, you know the reason--those other hands gettin' sick at Manila. But I can tell you, I'd rather have a crew of Americans any day." "They are hard to get." "True fer you." The old Yankee tar heaved a sigh. "The old days are gone, sure enough. My! my! what times we used to have, when we'd go out, every man a-knowin' every other man on the ship, an' all about him, too! Then it was like a big family settin' sail. Now, if you go on a new ship ye don't know nobody an' nobody knows nobody else." "I guess you expect to live and die a sailor, don't you, Luke?" "Don't know but what I do, unless somebody leaves me money enough to live like a millionaire," and the old tar grinned. Day after day passed and the _Columbia_ kept on her course, making as straight a passage for Nagasaki as possible. One day there would be a fair breeze and the next a dead calm. "This is unusual weather for this quarter of the globe," said Captain Ponsberry to Larry. "Like as not it will end in another hurricane." "In that case what will you do, release Semmel and the others?" "I may release Peterson and Shamhaven, but not Semmel, for he was the real ringleader." There were strong signs of a storm in the air that night, but they brought forth nothing, and on the following morning the sun came up as full and bright as before. The breeze came by fits and starts, from first one direction and then another, and the man at the wheel had all he could do to keep the schooner to her course. Sails were shifted half a dozen times, but without making any improvement. "The weather is certainly queer," said Grandon. "Puts me in mind of the time I was caught in a tidal wave in the South Seas. Before the wave struck us we had just such cuttings-up." "I trust we don't strike a tidal wave," answered Larry. "If it was high enough it might swamp us." "True; but when you're on the deep blue sea, lad, you've got to take whatever comes," replied the first mate, solemnly. Dinner was a quiet affair for all on board, and shortly after the repast Larry went to the forward deck, to have another chat with Luke. While the two were talking they were joined by Captain Ponsberry; and soon the three were conversing about old times once more. "Do you remember the swim we once took in the Pacific?" said Larry to Luke. "The time the sawfish smashed the boat and came after us?" "Reckon I do," was the Yankee tar's response. "We had a lively swim fer it, didn't we?" "And the time we visited the island and you turned the turtles?" went on Larry. "And do you remember that snake that chased us into the water?" "I do, Larry. Tell you what, we've had our share of adventures. When Admiral Dewey----What is it, captain?" Luke broke off short and looked at Captain Ponsberry inquiringly. The master of the _Columbia_ was gazing over the port bow in an earnest, puzzled fashion. "Do you see that little black cloud, Striker?" "I do, sir!" And now Luke became all attention and so did Larry. "Kind o' funny lookin', ain't it?" "It is odd," answered the captain. "Do you see how it seems to be dancing around in the sky?" "Is it a cloud?" questioned Larry. "If so, I never saw its like before." "I'll take a look at it through my glass," went on the captain, and sent a sailor for the article. The cloud came swiftly closer and they heard a most unusual roaring and hissing. Then of a sudden the cloud seemed to dip down into the sea. When it came up, the waters of the ocean followed, and there loomed up before those on the ship a waterspout ten or fifteen feet thick. "A waterspout!" cried half a dozen in concert. "And a mighty powerful one, too," said the captain. "I trust it don't come this way." "It is coming this way!" yelled Larry. "Look! look!" The young second mate was right, the waterspout appeared to be headed directly for the schooner. But then it shot off to the westward, churning the water into a foam behind it. "It's going away," murmured Luke, when once more the waterspout made a curve and then shot directly toward them. It was off the port bow and less than a hundred feet away. It looked as if the old _Columbia_ was surely doomed! CHAPTER X SOMETHING ABOUT WAR AND FIGHTING SHIPS "It's going to strike the ship!" "It will cut us to pieces!" "Throw the schooner over on the other tack!" These and several other cries rang out on the deck of the _Columbia_. All felt their hearts come up into their throats as the roaring, swirling mass of water came closer and closer, until the spray drenched them completely. The ocean was churned into a white foam and the wind seemed to suck and blow in all directions at once. But, just as it looked as if the schooner would be buried beneath a veritable mountain of water, the waterspout took another curve and slid away, along the side of the ship and off the stern. The man at the wheel came close to being carried overboard by the deluge he received and the _Columbia_ bobbed up and down like a cork. But in another moment the waterspout was an eighth of a mile distant. "What a--a narrow escape," faltered Larry, when he felt able to speak. "I thought we were bound for the bottom sure!" "Thet's the closest I ever was to any waterspout," came from Luke, as he wiped his wet brow. "Reckon we can thank Providence we ain't in Davy Jones' locker this minit!" Captain Ponsberry did not say much, but kept his eyes fixed on the waterspout, which was making fantastic curves across the bosom of the Pacific. At times it was close by and then it would go half a mile or more away. It was a fascinating scene, full of dread, and gave more than one onlooker a chill down his backbone. "I wish it would go away completely," went on Larry. But this was not to be. The waterspout kept within sight for a good half-hour, although it did not come near them again. At last it grew less and less, off to the southwestward, and finally vanished altogether. The glass was used in that direction, but nothing save a clear horizon could be located. "We are clear of it at last," said Captain Ponsberry, and breathed a long sigh of relief. "Waterspouts are mighty dangerous things," said Grandon, after the scare was over. "When I was on board of the brig _Ben Franklin_ we ran into a spout off the coast of Brazil, and it knocked off the bow and the forward rail and nearly sank us." "I met one once, off the coast of Cuba," said the captain. "That went ashore and tore up the trees like so many weeds for a hundred feet around. A waterspout is nothing to be fooled with, I can tell you." On the day following the appearance of the waterspout the weather changed. There was a slight storm and then a stiff breeze sprang up which was cheering to all on board. Every stitch of canvas on the _Columbia_ was spread and the schooner bowled along right merrily. "I'd like to know how this war is going on, and how Ben and Gilbert are faring," said Larry to Captain Ponsberry. "A whole lot may have happened since we left Manila." "Well, you'll probably get word from your brother when you reach Nagasaki, lad; and we'll get word from Captain Pennington, too." "I hope neither of them has been wounded." "So do I; but when one goes to the front he has got to put up with the fortunes of war. Being a soldier of fortune, as it is called, is no baby business." "Do you suppose the Japs are continuing to bombard Port Arthur?" "More than likely--if the place hasn't fallen into their hands. They want to make sure of their footing in lower Manchuria, and they can never do that so long as the Russians hold a single seaport down there." "I suppose Russia has a pretty good-sized navy as well as an army?" "Yes, Larry, one of the largest navies in the world. But their fighting ships are no better than the ships of Japan. You see, the Japanese navy is not near as old as the navy of Russia. Almost all of the ships are of the up-to-date types. Most of them have been built since the war between Japan and China in 1894 and 1895." "That would make them only about ten years old." "Exactly, and I've been told that some of the ships in the Russian navy are twenty and thirty years old. More than this, all of the Japanese guns are of the latest pattern--just as they are on our new warships." "I'd like to go aboard of a Japanese warship," cried the young second mate, enthusiastically. "Want to see if it's as good as it was aboard of the _Olympia_, eh?" "Yes, sir. Of course the _Olympia_ was old, especially alongside of the _Brooklyn_, on which my brother Walter served in Cuban waters, but even so she was a bang-up fighting machine. If she hadn't been she wouldn't have done her share in sinking that Spanish fleet in Manila Bay." "Well, you may have a chance to go aboard of a Japanese ship while we stop at Nagasaki. There must be a number of them at that port, coaling up and taking war supplies aboard." "How long do you think it will be before we reach that port?" "That will depend entirely upon the wind, as you know. If we get just what we need we may reach there inside of four or five days," answered Captain Ponsberry. As Peterson and Shamhaven were now behaving themselves they were allowed to come out of the brig and do some work on the deck every morning and afternoon. Both begged the captain to forgive them, but the master of the _Columbia_ would promise nothing. "You went into this with your eyes wide open," he said. "Now you can line up and take your medicine." Semmel was exceedingly bitter at not being allowed his liberty for at least a few hours a day and said he would denounce the captain at the first opportunity. But Captain Ponsberry soon cut him short. "You keep a civil tongue in your head," he said, sternly. "Unless you do, I'll put you down on hard-tack and water." And thereupon Semmel became sullenly silent. Towards evening of the day upon which Larry had the conversation about warships with Captain Ponsberry a Chinese junk, heavily laden with grass-covered boxes, was passed. Nobody on board could speak English, so the hail that was sent over the water brought no results. "We are getting closer to the coast shipping," said the master of the _Columbia_. "I suppose we'll meet quite a few vessels from now on." During the night an unexpected gale came up and the schooner was blown far out of her course. The gale came from the westward, so the vessel was blown to the east. "This will make the trip a day or two longer," grumbled Grandon, after the gale had spent itself. "Yes, but as we didn't lose a spar or a rag of canvas we can be thankful that it is no worse," responded Larry, who was always ready to look on the bright side. The gale subsided after a blow of twenty-four hours and then the bow of the _Columbia_ was once more set towards her destination. Only a few knots had been covered when the lookout reported a vessel in sight. "It's a steamer!" cried Larry, for the smoke from the craft's funnels was plainly to be seen. "Maybe she's a warship," returned Tom Grandon, who was beside him. "If so, I hope she's a Japanese." The steamer was coming along at a good rate of speed and soon they made her out to be a British vessel. She was a "tramp," that is, a vessel going from port to port, picking up whatever cargo can be found. "Ahoy, there!" cried Captain Ponsberry, as the tramp slowed up. "What ship is that?" "The _Lord Duffield_," was the answer. "What ship is that?" "The _Columbia_." "Where are you bound?" "For Nagasaki. And you?" "For Hong-Kong." A little more talk followed, and the captain of the _Lord Duffield_ vouchsafed the information that he had sighted a Russian warship the day before. "A warship!" murmured Larry. "Which way was she bound?" asked Captain Ponsberry, anxiously. "I can't tell you. She stopped us and asked a few questions and then slipped away in the darkness." "What warship was she?" "The _Pocastra_, from Vladivostok. I think she used to be in the merchant service and was built over for the navy." The captain of the British steamer could give no further information, and so resumed his course, and the master of the _Columbia_ did likewise. "Ain't very nice news, is it?" said Tom Grandon. "It's very unpleasant news," returned Captain Ponsberry, with a shrug of his shoulders. "What are you going to do about it?" "What can we do, Tom? Trust to luck that we get into Nagasaki harbor, or some other port, in safety." "We'll have to keep a sharp lookout for anything that looks like a warship, unless, of course, she flies a Japanese flag." Word was passed around to those who could be trusted, and all day long one of the mates and a foremast hand were kept on the lookout, taking turns at looking through the best glass the schooner possessed. "This is almost as exciting as being in a war," said Larry, when he was on duty with Luke. "Don't you know how we looked for the Spanish ships?" "Yes, lad; but if we sight a Russian warship it will be small fighting we'll do, to my way of thinking." "Oh, we won't be able to fight at all. We'll simply have to rely on our wits to keep us out of being gobbled up as a prize of war," responded the young second mate. CHAPTER XI AN ORDER TO LAY-TO When taking on his cargo at Manila, Captain Ponsberry had considered the possibility of being captured by a Russian warship, and had talked the matter over with the agents of the Richmond Importing Company and with a Japanese official who was doing business on the sly in the Philippines. The Japanese Government was willing to pay for the cargo, whether it was delivered or not--presuming it was "gobbled up" by the Russians, but was not willing to pay for the ship if the vessel was taken as a prize of war. "That is a risk you must take yourself," said the Japanese official. "We are willing to pay a high price for the cargo--we cannot do more." And so the risk--so far as the schooner went--was divided equally between the Richmond Importing Company and Captain Ponsberry and the other owners of the _Columbia_. As nearly the captain's whole wealth was tied up in his share of the schooner, he was naturally anxious to make a safe trip, and he often came on deck to aid the lookouts in watching for the possible appearance of an enemy. "If you see the least thing that looks suspicious, tell me at once," was his order, and it was strictly obeyed. As a consequence they ran away from two steamers that afternoon and another steamer the next morning--all too far off to show exactly what they were. "This isn't bringing us much nearer to port," said Larry to Cal Vincent, who was using the glass at the time. "I don't believe we have made a dozen knots since yesterday." "Well, the old man is a bit nervous," responded the boatswain, in a low voice. "And I don't blame him. It's no small matter to lose your craft and be thrown into prison in the bargain." "Would they dare to throw us into prison?" "To be sure,--if they could prove that we were aiding the Japs." "Well, they'll have hard work proving that." An hour went by and it began to grow misty. Then came a call from the bow. "Sail in sight!" "What is it?" demanded the captain instantly. "A big steamer o' some sort." Captain Ponsberry ran forward and took the glass. For fully two minutes he did not speak and then he drew a long breath and put down the glass. "I'm afraid she's a warship," he exclaimed, and his voice sounded unnatural. "A warship!" echoed Larry. "Will you let me look?" He did so, and it was not long before he could make out the approaching craft quite clearly. "Well?" demanded Grandon, who knew that Larry's eyes were unusually strong. "I reckon the captain is right." "A warship?" "Yes, not a very large affair, but still a warship. I shouldn't be surprised if she was the converted vessel the _Lord Duffield_ sighted." "Just what I think," put in Captain Ponsberry. "We've got to do our best to show her a clean pair of heels." "The mist may help us to run away," suggested Grandon. "Let us hope so." Necessary orders were given, and soon the _Columbia_ swung around on another tack, so that she had the large vessel on her starboard quarter. But this movement was evidently noted by the stranger, and the latter headed directly for the schooner once more. "She is after us, that is positive," said Captain Ponsberry. "There is a bank of mist over to the northward," returned Larry. "Why not run into that?" "Well spoken, lad; we'll do it, and as soon as the mist hides us we can go over on the other tack and throw her off the scent." The mist the young second mate had mentioned was nearly a quarter of a mile away and it was a question whether they could reach it before the stranger came up. But fortune favored those on the schooner. The mist rolled toward them, and in less than two minutes they were hidden as completely as could be desired. "Now to get entirely out of the way," exclaimed Captain Ponsberry, and lost not a moment in having the sails shifted and a new course set. Through the mist they heard the other vessel steaming around noisily and did their best to keep as far away as possible from the sound. All during that evening and the night to follow the _Columbia_ kept to her new course. This was taking her away from Nagasaki, but this could not be helped. The captain said if it became absolutely necessary he would run into some other Japanese port. When daybreak came the mist was as thick as ever. But there were signs that it would not last much longer, and by nine o'clock the sun was struggling to come through the clouds. Nearly everybody was on deck, for they realized that a fatal moment might be at hand. "There she is!" The cry came from half a dozen throats simultaneously. There, on the port bow, loomed up the stranger, not an eighth of a mile away. That she was a warship there was no longer any doubt, for her forward guns were plainly to be seen. "We're caught now!" muttered Tom Grandon. "Not yet!" cried the captain, and gave orders to throw the _Columbia_ over on a new course. But scarcely had this movement been made when there was a puff of smoke from the warship, a report, and a shot flew in front of the schooner's bow. "There's our order to lay-to!" ejaculated Larry. "Whoever she is, she means business." As the _Columbia_ did not stop, another shot was fired, this time just grazing the bow. Seeing there was no help for it, Captain Ponsberry gave the necessary orders, and down came one sail after another. As this was done the warship swung around and then those on the schooner saw that she flew the flag of Russia. "A Russian warship!" ejaculated half a dozen. "This looks to me as if the jig was up," murmured Tom Grandon. As quickly as it could be done, Captain Ponsberry assembled his men on deck. "Men," he said, briefly, "the officers on board of that warship wish to find out what they can about us. If you are asked questions say nothing more than that you shipped for the voyage to Nagasaki and San Francisco, and that you know nothing about the cargo. Do you understand?" "Aye, aye, sir," came from those who were listening. "I must depend upon you to help save the ship. If the _Columbia_ is suspected of being in the employ of the Japanese Government, or of carrying a cargo for that nation, she will be taken as a prize of war and we'll go to a Russian prison most likely." "I don't want to go to no Russian prison!" cried out Wilbur, his face turning pale. "I ain't done nothing wrong!" "Then keep your tongue from wagging too much, Wilbur," answered the master of the schooner, grimly. "There ain't no use o' fighting, is there?" asked Groot. "Fighting?" came from Tom Grandon. "What could the old _Columbia_ do against a man-o'-war? Why, they'd blow us sky high in no time!" "No, there is absolutely no use of attempting to fight," answered Captain Ponsberry. "Our only hope lays in convincing them that they have no right to stop us." The hands were dismissed and sent forward, and Captain Ponsberry hurried below, to burn certain papers and secrete others. This was in accordance with the orders received from the agents of the Richmond Importing Company at Manila. In the meantime the Russian warship had come to a stop in mid-ocean and now a small boat was lowered, containing a small crew, a coxswain, and a Russian naval officer. At the same time a signal was hoisted which meant that the officer was coming on board of the schooner. "Unless I miss my guess, this looks rather black for us," said Larry, to Tom Grandon. "I agree with you, Larry," responded the first mate. "But we've got to take our medicine, no matter how bitter it is." "If only that mist had held on to-day! We might have slipped by that warship nicely." "I only hope the old man fixes up his papers so that he can show a clean bill of health," went on Grandon. "You see, if they can't actually prove something against us, they won't dare to touch us. They know what Old Glory means, and Russia has no desire just now to get into trouble with Uncle Sam." "The worst of it is, our cargo may look too suspicious to them. Under ordinary circumstances they know that the _Columbia_ wouldn't be carrying such a line of goods in these waters." "That's true, too." "Besides that, they may have had an agent at Nagasaki and at Manila spying on us. They may know just what is being done. The Czar's followers are mighty slick, I can tell you." Captain Ponsberry now came on deck and gave quick orders that the sailors should be lined up, to receive the visitor in a befitting manner. "A little goose grease may help," he drawled, with a knowing glance at Grandon and Larry. The foremast hands did not know much about lining up, but took the places assigned to them, on the forward deck. Over the side a rope ladder was thrown, and then Captain Ponsberry, Tom Grandon, and Larry awaited the arrival of the Russian naval officer with keen interest. CHAPTER XII TAKEN AS A PRIZE OF WAR Slowly but surely the small boat came closer to the schooner. She rode the long swells of the Pacific with full grace, and Larry could not help but admire the long, sturdy strokes of the jackies, as they bent to their task. "I don't know but that they can handle a small boat as well as our own jackies," said Larry. "Why shouldn't they? Russian naval training ought to be first-class," answered Tom Grandon. "They have been at it longer than Uncle Sam." "True, but that doesn't always count. Spain had been at it longer than we had, too, but when it came to war we beat her in double-quick order." As the small boat came closer they saw that the jackies were mostly men of middle age. But the coxswain was younger and so was the naval officer, who was gazing rather anxiously toward the schooner, as if wondering what the result of his mission would be. "Wonder if that chap can talk English?" queried the first mate. "If he can't the old man will be up a tree, for none of us can talk Russian." "I reckon Peterson and Semmel can talk it," answered Larry. "But we don't want either of those rascals to open his mouth." At last the small boat came up alongside of the _Columbia_. It was no easy matter to catch the rope ladder without getting bumped, but it was successfully accomplished, and then the Russian officer lost no time in coming on board. He at once saluted, and Captain Ponsberry and his mates did the same, and the sailors in the background did likewise. "What ship is this?" asked the Russian naval officer, after a few necessary formalities were at an end. "The American schooner _Columbia_," answered Captain Ponsberry. "Would you mind telling me for what port you are bound?" went on the naval officer, who could speak fairly good English. "We are bound for San Francisco, with a stopover at Nagasaki." "Ah! What sort of a cargo are you carrying to Nagasaki?" "One belonging to the firm for which the _Columbia_ is in commission." "The name of the firm, please?" "The Richmond Importing Company." "Ah!" said the naval officer again, and looked slightly displeased. As it happened he had a brother in the army at Port Arthur, and had heard of the doings of Gilbert Pennington at that place, and of how the young American had accused certain Russians of trying to cheat the company he represented. "What warship do you come from?" demanded Captain Ponsberry, feeling that he had an equal right to ask questions. "The auxiliary cruiser, _Pocastra_, of the Russian navy," answered the naval officer, politely. "And where are you bound?" went on Captain Ponsberry, bluntly. "That, sir, is a question only our commander, Captain Titorsky, can answer." "It's queer you are steaming around in Japanese waters." "Perhaps so." The Russian naval officer smiled in a knowing way. "Captain Ponsberry, I am sorry, but I think I shall have to inspect your papers." Captain Ponsberry drew himself up, resolved to put on as bold a front as possible. "This is an American ship, sir." "Granted, but I have my orders," returned the naval officer, coldly. "If I refuse to let you inspect the papers?" The young Russian officer shrugged his shoulders. "We shall be under the painful necessity of compelling you to show them." "You threaten me--an American captain!" "There is no help for it--I am simply obeying orders. We inspect all ships that we find in this vicinity." "Do you know I can make you pay dearly for this outrage?" "You cannot call it an outrage. You are in Japanese waters, Japan and Russia are at war. You knew that before you came into these waters. Am I to see the papers or not?" The commander of the _Columbia_ knew that the Russian naval officer spoke the truth. Yet he made one more effort. "Very well; I will show my papers, but I shall insist upon you signing a paper that your ship held us up." "You can send the paper to my ship for such a signature from my captain," said the Russian, evasively. By this time four of the jackies of the small boat had come on board. All were armed and they lined up at the rail, close to the rope ladder. They were good-natured sailors and grinned broadly at the hands on the _Columbia_. Not one could speak a word of English, so conversation with them was impossible. Captain Ponsberry led the way to the cabin of the _Columbia_ and the young Russian officer followed. Getting out such papers as had been prepared for the occasion, the master of the schooner passed them over. "These are correct so far as they go," said the Russian, after an examination lasting ten minutes had been made. "But----" he paused. "You have no further papers?" "Those are my papers, sir," answered Captain Ponsberry, briefly. "Then I will look at a specified list of your cargo." "I haven't such a list," was the answer, which was true, as the list had been burnt up just a short while before. At this statement the young Russian frowned. "Every ship carries such a list." "Still, I haven't any." "In that case, I shall have to order an inspection of the cargo." "Sir, you are going too far!" said Captain Ponsberry, sternly, yet he knew he had no right to expect anything else. "If I am going too far, I am able to take the consequences," returned the Russian, who was acting strictly under orders. "Very well, sir; you can look the cargo over," answered Captain Ponsberry. "But I shall hold Russia accountable for the outrage." The Russian naval officer bowed and hastened up to the deck. He spoke in his native tongue to one of the jackies who carried several small flags under his arm. At once the Jackie began to wig-wag to the warship for further instructions. "Search the ship," came back the order, and in a few minutes more another small boat left the side of the _Pocastra_, containing an officer and a crew of eight. "We are in for it now, that is certain," observed Larry. "They are not going to let us go until they are sure we are O. K." The second boat was soon alongside of the schooner, and the officer in charge and four men came up on the deck and joined the other Russians already there. An earnest conversation was held between the two officers. "We'll take a general look at the cargo," said the one who had just arrived. "It will not do to go too far--in case we find everything as it should be. We want no trouble with the Yankee government." Captain Ponsberry was asked to have the mizzen hatch opened, and this work was done by Luke Striker and several others. Then two of the Russian sailors were sent below, and one of the officers went along. In the meantime, Peterson, unknown to anybody on board, had slipped off to the brig. Here he found Ostag Semmel in solitary confinement. "Semmel, a Russian warship is close at hand," he said, hurriedly. "An officer and some men have just boarded us." "Release me, Peterson!" returned the Russian sailor. "Release me and I will show Captain Ponsberry what I can do!" "You will not get me into trouble?" questioned Peterson, anxiously. "No. Quick--I am sure we can make money out of this." With an iron bar, Peterson pried off the lock which had been put on the door of the brig, and drew back the bolt. Then Semmel came out of his prison, with his hands linked together. As he was making his way to the stern deck Larry caught sight of him. "Stop!" he called out, in alarm, realizing what Semmel might do. "Stop, Semmel!" and he ran to capture the rascal. "Get out da vay!" roared the Russian and aimed a blow at Larry's head. But the young second mate dodged and then caught the Russian by the legs, hurling him flat on his breast. But now Peterson came behind and gave Larry a vicious kick in the side, which made the youth let go his hold. "What's the row there?" called out Captain Ponsberry, and looked much disturbed to see the escaped prisoner. "Put him back where he came from!" "Help!" yelled Semmel, in Russian. "Help, in the name of the Czar! I am a Russian subject! This ship is in the employ of the Japanese Government!" "He speaks the truth!" called out Peterson, also in Russian. "Help us and protect us and we will prove it!" And he ran forward to where the Russian officer on deck was standing. "You are Russians?" asked the officer, quickly. "We are." "Then I shall certainly assist you." He raised his voice. "Let that man go!" And he pointed at Semmel, now surrounded by Larry, Luke, and Cal Vincent. The latter words were uttered in English, so all of our friends understood them. The two sailors looked inquiringly at the young second mate. "He is nothing but a mutineer," said Larry. "We locked him up for it. He ought to have been strung up on the yardarm," he added, bitterly. By this time Captain Ponsberry was on the scene, and those who had gone below were summoned on deck once more. The captain glared at Semmel, who lost no time in shrinking behind the Russian officers for protection. "I can prove the cargo on this ship belongs to the Japanese Government," said Ostag Semmel. "My friend can prove it, too," he added, pointing to Peterson. "It is true we tried to seize the ship--to take her to Vladivostok, or some other Russian port, as a prize." "This is assuredly interesting," said the leading Russian officer. "Tell me your tale in full." Despite Captain Ponsberry's protests Semmel told his story in his own way, and Peterson corroborated it in every detail. Then Shamhaven, thinking to curry favor, came forward. "They tell the strict truth," he said. "I worked with them. We did what we could for the benefit of the Russian Government. Every bit of cargo on this ship belongs to the Japanese Government and was to be taken ashore at Nagasaki. The last cargo of the _Columbia_ was also sold at Nagasaki to the Japanese Government." "When was this?" "About two months ago." More questions were put to Semmel, Peterson, and Shamhaven, and at last the Russian naval officer turned grimly to Captain Ponsberry. "I have heard their story, and it will be unnecessary to make an inspection of your cargo, since they have told me of what it consists. In the name of Russia I claim this ship as a prize of war, and you and your crew must consider yourselves prisoners." CHAPTER XIII PRISONERS ON THE "POCASTRA" Captain Ponsberry had feared the result ever since the unexpected appearance of Ostag Semmel, so he was not very much surprised when the Russian naval officer stated that he should consider the _Columbia_ as a war prize and place those on board under arrest as prisoners of war. "This is a high-handed proceeding," said he, as calmly as possible, although his mind was in a whirl. "I do not think so," answered the Russian officer. "Do you submit or not?" "Since it would be useless to fight, we shall have to submit," answered the master of the schooner. "But, remember, I shall hold you and the Russian Government responsible for all you do." "As you have said that before, there is no use of repeating it, Captain Ponsberry. We will take command of the vessel at once." "What are we going to do?" whispered Larry to Tom Grandon. "I don't know--follow the old man, I reckon," answered the first mate. "We shall place a prize crew on this ship," went on the Russian officer. "These men"--pointing to Semmel, Peterson, and Shamhaven--"can remain on board. The remainder of the crew and the officers, will be transferred to the _Pocastra_. I will give you a quarter of an hour in which to attend to your luggage. Please take no more along than is necessary." "This is certainly high-handed!" cried Larry. "So we've got to go over to that old coal box, eh?" grumbled Luke, when he heard the news. "It's hard luck, Larry." "You're right, Luke, but it can't be helped." "What will they do with us?" "I haven't the least idea." "Will they take us to Russia?" "I suppose so--or stow us away in one of those cold and dirty Siberian prisons until we can get Uncle Sam to make them release us." When it came time to depart from the _Columbia_ Larry was allowed to take only a bundle of clothing along, and Grandon and the common sailors were treated no better. The captain was allowed a trunk and a suit case. In the meantime Semmel was questioned once more, and what he had to tell made the Russians look darkly at our friends. "He is pumping all sorts of falsehoods into them, I suppose," said Larry to Luke, and he was right. Semmel made it appear that Captain Ponsberry was really an agent of the Japanese Government and that he (Semmel) had done his best to gain possession of the ship wholly for the benefit of his own country. "If you really did this, it is very worthy of you," said one of the officers. "But we shall have to investigate before we accept your story in full." This was not so encouraging, but with it Ostag Semmel had to be content. Fearing that a Japanese warship might put in an appearance at any moment, the Russians lost no time in transferring the officers and men of the _Columbia_ to the _Pocastra_ and at the same time a prize crew of two officers and ten men were taken from the warship to the schooner. Then the sails of the _Columbia_ were hoisted and off she set to the eastward, and the warship moved in the same direction. When placed aboard the _Pocastra_ Captain Ponsberry was treated politely and given a small room of his own. But the mates and the ordinary seamen were not so fortunate. Grandon, Larry, and Luke Striker were hustled off to a prison pen on one deck of the auxiliary cruiser, and the others to another pen below, which was even worse. "This is certainly hard luck," said Larry, as he threw his bundle into a corner and sat down on an iron bench, while Grandon and Luke did the same. "And after we had almost reached Nagasaki, too!" "Well, there ain't no use to cry over spilt milk," came from Luke. "We're prisoners o' war, an' I reckon as how we have got to make the best o' it. Ain't the first time we've been in sech a fix." "That is true, Luke, but it doesn't help the matter any. I guess we have seen the last of the old _Columbia_." "I was afraid of this sort of thing happening ever since we left Manila," came from Grandon. "I told the old man to be careful, that----" "Hush!" whispered Larry. "They may be listening--to make sure that they have caught the right parties." "True for you, Larry; I won't say another word about that. But it looks dismal, no two ways on't," and the first mate drew a mountainous sigh. The prison pen into which they had been placed was an iron structure, reaching from floor to ceiling, and was not over ten feet square. It had a solid back and the remaining three sides were built up of stout iron bars, only a couple of inches apart. There was a door which was doubly locked, the key being held by a petty officer who could speak broken English and who rejoiced in the simple name of Rosenvischpoff. For short Luke nicknamed him Rosey and this name stuck to him. "Doesn't look as if a fellow could break out of here very easily," said Larry, after an inspection of their prison. "This is a regular bank vault." "Wouldn't do you any good to break out," returned Grandon. "As we are on the ocean, where would you go to?" "We might hide until the vessel made a landing." "Humph, and that would be in some Russian port, so you'd be just as bad off." "Well, I'm not trying to escape just now. I want to get the lay of the land first, and try to find out what they are going to do with us." From Rosenvischpoff they learned that the _Pocastra_ was one of a large number of steamers of various Russian lines which had been lately pressed into the service of the national navy. She had been rushed through at one of the Russian navy yards and provided with a battery of four small and four large guns, none, however, over eight inches. She carried a crew of one hundred and eighty men, drafted principally from other warships. She had an advertised speed of twenty knots an hour but rarely made over seventeen or eighteen. She was old and her engines were constantly in need of repair, much to the disgust of Captain Titorsky, her commander. "Well, Rosey, how goes this war?" asked Luke, pleasantly, as the petty officer came around to give them something to eat. "Big fight all der dime," answered Rosenvischpoff. "Russians kill all der Japs--sink all der Jap ships, yes!" "You're winning right along, eh?" "Yes, Russians win--Japs no do noddings, no!" And the petty officer left the food on the bench and hurried away again. "Do you believe that?" asked Larry. "No, I don't," came from Grandon. "He told us that simply to scare us, or else he doesn't know the real truth." "Exactly what I think." "These Russians are a lot of blowers," growled Luke. "Just look at Semmel. He was forever tooting his horn, and yet he couldn't do much of anything." "He got us into trouble," said Larry, quickly. "That's true, but he had to have this warship with all on board to help him." The food which had been brought to them consisted of a big bowl of stew, with three spoons, and three chunks of black bread. "They are going to treat us to the best," said Grandon, sarcastically. He lifted one of the spoons and tasted the stew. "Phew, it's hot enough! Pepper, garlic, and hot water!" "Does beat all how these fureigners do love their garlic," grumbled Luke. "'Twas the same way with them Spaniards in the Philippines." "Garlic and grease," added Larry. "And this bread is hard enough to build a wall with," he continued. "However, we have got to eat or go hungry." And he partook of just enough to stay his stomach. Luke and Grandon were not so particular and despite their grumbling managed to make away with all that remained. They saw nothing of the captain, or of the sailors who had been taken below, and the time hung heavily on their hands. At night they were given three hammocks and these they slung from one side of the prison to the other and rested as well as could be expected. The Russian sailors often came to the pen to gaze at them, but they had been warned not to attempt to converse with the prisoners, so nothing was said. On the afternoon of the third day aboard of the _Pocastra_, those in the pen heard a loud shouting on deck, followed by a rush of feet. Larry, who was resting in the corner for the want of something better to do, leaped up. "Something is doing!" he cried to his companions. "Here comes Captain Ponsberry," ejaculated Tom Grandon. He was right, the captain was coming up in company with Rosenvischpoff and two sailors. The Russian petty officer opened the door of the pen and Captain Ponsberry was thrust inside. Then the door was locked as before. "How are you, boys?" cried the captain, cordially. "All well, I hope." "We are," answered Grandon. "And you?" "I'm well enough, but still angry to think that we lost the _Columbia_." "So are we angry," said Larry. "But we've got to stand it. What's that noise?" "They have sighted a Chinese junk, and I reckon they are going to treat her as they did our vessel," answered the captain. The noise on deck continued, followed by quarter of an hour of silence. Then came a shot, followed by a second and a third. "Another order to lay-to," said Larry. "Wonder if the Chinamen will give in as we did?" "They will if they are wise," said Grandon. But the Chinamen did not believe in surrendering thus easily. They were carrying rice for the Japanese army, and thought that this was known to the enemy. Consequently they did their best to sail away. Hardly had the craft started on a new course when the _Pocastra_ opened a direct fire upon her. The noise below decks was deafening and fairly shook the iron pen in which our friends were confined. "Hullo, that sounds like real war!" cried Larry. "They mean business now." One broadside was followed by another, and the Chinese junk was raked from end to end with such a deadly fire that more than a sixth of the sailors and officers were killed. Then the captain flung a white flag to the breeze in token of surrender. "We have won!" cried those on the _Pocastra_, and it was not long before our friends understood. Small boats were put out, and presently half a dozen Chinese officers from the junk were brought on board as prisoners. A fire that had started on the prize ship was put out after some hard work; and then a temporary crew was put on board, and the junk followed in the wake of the old _Columbia_, with the warship keeping guard over both. CHAPTER XIV PROGRESS OF THE WAR An hour after the capture of the Chinese junk one of the officers of the ill-fated craft was thrust into the prison pen with our friends. He was a small sallow-eyed Celestial rejoicing in the name of Won Lung, and it was soon learned that he could speak a little English, he having once paid a visit to San Francisco. "All go up spout!" said he, referring to his own ship. "T'ink we safe when Russian gunboat come, den all up spout!" "Did they sink your ship?" asked Captain Ponsberry. "No sink--shoot holes, back, front, side--all up spout. No fightee no more den--all up spout!" The latter was his pet phrase and he used it over and over again. "You were in the Japanese trade?" "Yes--carry rice. Now Russians got rice, got junk--all Won Lung's money gone up spout!" And the Celestial made an odd little grimace. "Well, they took my ship, too." "Big schooner your shipee?" "Yes." "Won Lung weep for you--all ship gone up spout, samee like Won Lung's ship gone up spout!" "Well, we haven't gone up the spout yet," put in Larry, with a laugh. "Let us thank fortune that we are alive and well." "Dat so--Won Lung lose fliends on junk--six, seven, ten--don't know how many yet," and the Chinese officer shook his head sadly. "Bad war, bad!" "Can you tell us how the war is going?" asked Tom Grandon. "These Russians say everything is a Russian victory." "Russians sayee dat?" "Yes--they pretend to say they have the Japs about beaten." At this Won Lung screwed up his eyes into mere slits. "Big lie dat. Japanese win everyt'ing allee timee. Russian warships gone up spout--Russian army run like--like--up spout!" After that Won Lung told them all he knew. It was hard to understand him, yet they gathered that there had been another sea fight in the vicinity of Port Arthur, in which the Russian navy had come off second best, and that the Japanese army that had landed in Korea had driven the enemy to the northwestward, over the Yalu River, and was now forcing them back upon Liao-Yang. "If this news about the army is true, Ben and Gilbert must be having a hot time of it," was Larry's comment. "I must say, I am mighty glad they are on the winning side." "Didn't I tell ye them Russians are a lot o' blowers?" came from Luke. "The truth ain't in 'em half the time." "Perhaps they do not get the correct news from the front," came from Captain Ponsberry. "The censors may keep the bad news back, for fear of disheartening the rest of the men in the army and navy." "They tell me the Russians are very strict about sending out news," rejoined Larry. "It is true, Larry; no country on the globe is stricter. No telegram can be sent without it is inspected, and the newspapers cannot print a single scrap of news, or a single editorial, until after the press censor has passed upon it." "If that's the case, I don't wonder that some of the people want to be free." "Russia is more free to-day than she ever was before, and freedom is bound to come sooner or later--that is, I mean, not such freedom as we have in the United States, but such freedom as they have in England and Germany--where, at least, a man can call his soul his own." "It's a wonder the Russians will fight for their country, if they are so ground down." "They know nothing better, and besides, they are really patriotic. If the Czar would only treat them a little better, and give them a little more liberty, they would be the most faithful of subjects. But when a man can't do at all as he wants to do, and can't open his mouth about it either, he is apt to grow sullen and ugly." As day after day went by life on the Russian warship became almost unendurable for Larry and the others. They suffered greatly for the want of fresh air, and at last made a vigorous protest to the captain of the ship, when he happened to be passing the pen. As a result orders were given that they should be allowed three hours on deck each day, one in the morning and two after dinner. "This is a little like," said Larry, when coming on deck for the first time. "Oh, how good it feels to breathe fresh air once more!" And he filled his lungs to their fullest capacity. For their daily exercise Larry and Luke were chained together, and the pair inspected with great curiosity as much of the warship as was allowed. "It's not so very different from some of our own auxiliary cruisers," said Larry. "But, after all, I like ours better." "That's right, lad; stick up fer your own country every trip." "Well, what do you say, Luke?" "I say I'd rather be on one of Uncle Sam's ships than on any other in the world." While allowed to roam around on deck, Larry often looked eagerly for the _Columbia_, but the schooner and the Chinese junk were too far off to be distinguished with the naked eye. "We'd give a good deal to be back on her deck, wouldn't we, Luke?" said he. "Don't mention it, lad; it makes me sick," grumbled the Yankee tar. "I wish I knew just what was being done on land, don't you? Perhaps this war will end soon, and then we'll be set free." "It won't end yet awhile, Larry, mark my words on that," answered Luke. The old Yankee sailor was right--the war was far from ended, and here it may be well to note briefly what was taking place on the sea between Russia and Japan, while the army of the Mikado was pushing through Manchuria in the direction of Liao-Yang. The loss of the great battleship _Petropavlovsk_ has already been recorded in "Under the Mikado's Flag." This vessel was sunk by a mine in Port Arthur harbor, April 13, 1904, and carried down with her Admiral Makaroff and about five hundred officers and men. At the same time the battleship _Pobieda_ was also injured by a mine. The loss of the admiral's flag-ship was a great blow to Russia, and while she was trying to recover, Port Arthur was vigorously shelled by the Japanese fleet, and many buildings were more or less damaged. Some warehouses were set on fire, but the local fire department, aided by the Russian garrison, succeeded in putting out the conflagration. While the Japanese fleet was hammering at the city and the ships from beyond the harbor, the Japanese army encircled Port Arthur on land, taking possession of every available hill beyond the Russian line of defenses. As a consequence, by the middle of May the city was in a complete state of siege, nearly all communication with the outside world being cut off. But now came a turn in affairs which, for a short while, made matters look favorable for Russia. While the fleet of Admiral Togo was patrolling the whole of the southeastern coast of Manchuria and protecting the Japanese transports which were pouring troops into the country, occurred a catastrophe as appalling as it was unexpected. On the same day, May 15, the magnificent battleship _Hatsuse_, of the Japanese navy, was blown up by mines and sunk, and the protected cruiser, _Yoshino_, also of Admiral Togo's fleet, collided in the fog with a sister ship, and was a total loss. It is estimated that by these two disasters seven hundred men were lost. Among the officers who met their fate were men of marked ability which Japan at this crisis could ill afford to lose. The loss of the _Hatsuse_ is worth relating in detail. She had been along the coast during a heavy fog, but this had cleared off and the sun was shining brightly. Not an enemy was in sight, and all was quiet on the great battleship when, without warning, a terrific explosion was felt near the stern and a portion of the steering gear was damaged. "We have struck a mine!" cried some one on board, and without delay signals were hoisted for the other vessels in sight to stand by. The battleship was drifting and the locality was full of mines. It was a moment of terrible suspense. Then came another explosion, greater than the first, which ripped large holes through her heavy plates. At once the battleship began to fill, and presently she sank like a stone to the bottom of the sea. The other warships put out their small boats with all speed, and succeeded in rescuing about three hundred officers and men out of a total of nearly eight hundred. Among those lost were Rear-Admiral Nashiba and Captain Nakao, the commander of the warship. The _Yoshino_ was lost while steaming slowly southward, after a night's vigil near the entrance to Port Arthur harbor. Other vessels of the blockading fleet were close by, so each ship had to advance with extreme caution. But the fog, instead of lifting, became thicker, and at a little before two o'clock in the afternoon the cruiser was rammed by the _Kasuga_, another vessel of the fleet. A large hole was torn in the hull of the _Yoshino_. "Out with the collision mats!" cried the commander of the cruiser, and the mats were brought out without delay and placed over the side. But the hole was too great to be stopped in that manner. Then the captain called the entire crew on deck, and ordered the small boats to be lowered, five on the starboard side and one on the port. Before the boats could be gotten away, the _Yoshino_ listed heavily to starboard and went down, smashing the five small boats under her. The other boat managed to get away, with only a handful of jackies and a couple of officers. The captain remained on the bridge and went down with his ship. As soon as possible the _Kasuga_ put out her boats and succeeded in rescuing about ninety men, out of a total of over two hundred and fifty. It was a great blow to Japan and the Russians were correspondingly elated. Feeling that Admiral Togo's grip on the sea was now weakened, the Russian squadron at Vladivostok sailed forth and did much damage to the shipping on the northern coast of Japan, sinking several merchantmen and taking a number of others as prizes. The Russian squadron also met the Japanese transport _Kinshiu Maru_, having on board the 37th regiment of Japanese infantry. "Surrender, or we will sink you!" signaled the Russian commander. The Japanese refused, and were given exactly an hour in which to think it over. As they still refused, a torpedo was discharged against the doomed ship. As she began to sink the Japanese soldiers opened fire with their rifles, and then the Russians answered with their machine guns, mowing down the Mikado's men by the score. But the Japanese were brave to the last, and sank beneath the waves with the cry of _Banzai_! (hurrah!) on their lips. It was an auxiliary cruiser of the Vladivostok squadron which had taken the _Columbia_ and the Chinese junk as prizes of war. The captain of the cruiser was now looking for the rest of the squadron, but so far none of the warships had been sighted. "They must have returned to Vladivostok," he reasoned, and then turned in that direction with the _Pocastra_, never dreaming of what the near future held in store for himself, his ship, and his crew. CHAPTER XV A SHARP NAVAL BATTLE So far the weather had been good, but following the conversation recorded in the last chapter there came up a dense fog, and for twenty-four hours the Russian warship did nothing but creep along in the gloom. During that time, for some unknown reason, Larry and the others were allowed greater freedom than before. Each had his hands chained behind him, but all were separate, which allowed each to roam around as he pleased. "This is better than being linked to somebody else," said the youth to his old sailor friend. "Not but that we got along well enough together," he added, hastily. "You're right--there wasn't no sense in joinin' us together," answered Luke. "We can't git away if we want to." "We might, if we didn't have our hands chained, Luke." "How?" "If we all got together some night--providing we could keep out of the pen--and stole one of the small boats." "Easier said nor done. The guard would ketch ye an' shoot ye down like a dog." "Oh, I know there would be a great risk. But I hate to think of going to a Siberian prison, or aboard a Russian prison ship." "So do I, Larry. But even if we stole the boat and got away, where would we go to,--especially if we didn't have much provisions an' water?" Larry could not answer that question, since he did not know the location of the _Pocastra_. It might be that they were hundreds of miles from land. If so, to take to a small boat with a scarcity of water and provisions would certainly be foolhardy. The fog continued during the night, but swept away as if by magic about nine o'clock in the morning. At that time the prisoners had had their breakfast and Larry and Luke were between decks, looking at some gunners' assistants cleaning out one of the large guns. Suddenly came a call from the lookout, followed by half a dozen commands. As everything said was in Russian, our friends did not understand a word, but they soon realized that something unusual was in the air. A shrill whistle sounded out and drums began to beat to quarters. "I'll wager a new hat they have sighted a Japanese ship!" cried Larry, and scarcely had he spoken when there came a dull booming over the water. "Let us go to the deck an' see what's doing," returned Luke, and both started for the stairs. But scarcely had they appeared on the deck when they were ordered below again. Larry was right; a Japanese warship had been sighted, and this vessel had lost no time in discharging a signal gun to a sister ship only a few miles away. Hardly had the youth and his friend reached the lower deck once more than the Japanese cruiser opened fire on the Russian vessel. The latter retaliated, and the booming of cannon shook the _Pocastra_ from stem to stern. "This is a fight for fair!" ejaculated Luke, with a broad smile on his face. "I hope the Japs win, Luke!" "So do I, lad. But where do we come in, that's what I want to know?" "If we could only drop overboard and swim to that other ship!" "No use of trying--some of the fellows in the tops would pick us off in no time. No, we've got to stay right where we are an' take what comes." "Where are the others?" They looked around, but could see nothing of Captain Ponsberry or Tom Grandon. They saw Cal Vincent run past, but he was out of sight before they could stop him. Suddenly a crash above them told that a solid shot had struck the upper works of the Russian cruiser. Then came another crash at the bow. "Those Japs know how to fire," came from the Yankee sailor. "Reckon as how they're going to do their best to blow this ship sky-high. I'd give 'most a dollar to be somewhere else just about now!" And he shook his head anxiously. The Russian gunners were working with a will, and so were their numerous assistants. The _Pocastra_ was swung around, and now both ships were broadside to each other. The thunder of the guns was terrific and the smoke rolled around in all directions. "Puts me in mind o' the battle o' Manila Bay, eh?" remarked Luke, as he and Larry stood at a distance, watching the Russians work one of the guns. "You are right, Luke, only----" Larry got no further, for at that moment came another crash on deck. The _Pocastra_ shivered and heaved, and to those below it was as if she would surely sink. "They're pumping it into us, sure as you're born!" sang out the old Yankee tar. "Hullo, what's this?" There was a rush of several gunners across the deck. "Beware of that gun!" yelled one in Russian, and then a stampede followed. In the midst of the confusion came a fearful explosion from below. A portion of the flooring was ripped apart and one of the gunners was instantly killed and several wounded. A great volume of smoke rolled up, and splinters and bits of iron and steel flew in all directions. Both Larry and Luke were almost stunned by the explosion and for the moment could do nothing but clutch each other in terror. Both were struck by the flying splinters, but neither was seriously wounded. They staggered back and began to cough, for the dense smoke was strangling. "Must have been a torpedo----" gasped Luke. "Or else a magazine!" spluttered Larry. "Let--let us get--get out of here. I'm--choking--to--to--death!" It was really a magazine which had exploded. This tore a good-sized hole in the _Pocastra's_ side, in a spot impossible to get at in the confusion. In the meantime a solid eight-inch shell struck the Russian ship squarely in the stern, doing additional damage and killing and wounding two officers and nine men. Almost choked to death, Larry and Luke crawled to where the ladder ran to the deck. The Russian jackies and gunners were swarming up, along with all the prisoners. "Larry, are you safe?" came in the voice of Captain Ponsberry, and he loomed up, with Tom Grandon, Cal Vincent, and the Chinese petty officer beside him. "So far I am," answered Larry. "But I--I--must have air!" and he began to cough. The jam on the ladder was terrific, and in the midst of the _mêlée_ a Russian gunner and the Chinese petty officer got into a quarrel. The gunner threw the Celestial down, but he bounced up like a ball, and in a twinkling the Russian received a blow in the stomach which sent him staggering back into the crowd and the deadly smoke. "No knock me up the spout!" sang out the Celestial. "Ship go down I go uppee!" And soon he was out on the upper deck. Fighting, surging, pushing, and yelling the Russians and our friends got to the deck at last. Captain Ponsberry had his coat literally ripped from his back, and Cal Vincent had an arm almost torn from its socket. For this he gave a Russian gunner a rap in the mouth which knocked loose several teeth. It was a case of each man for himself, and many fought like wild beasts. At last Larry found himself free of the crowd, with Luke still beside him. Captain Ponsberry and Cal Vincent were not far away, but between surged a great number of Russians. The _Pocastra_ was listing heavily to port and had evidently taken a large quantity of water into her hull. Two Japanese warships were now at hand and both were firing upon the doomed Russian cruiser with deadly accuracy. From the fighting tops of the Mikado's ships came a perfect hail of small bullets which sent the Russians to the deck by the score. By this fire one of the _Columbia's_ sailors was killed and Cal Vincent was seriously wounded. A bullet likewise grazed Luke Striker's thigh, drawing some blood, but the Yankee tar did not know of this until the conflict was at an end and he saw the crimson stain on his shoe top. At last the Russian captain saw that to fight further would be useless. The _Pocastra_ was in danger of going down at any moment. The guns could no longer be used, and he ordered the colors lowered and put up a signal of surrender. A wild cheer came from the two Japanese warships when it was realized that the battle was won. "_Banzai! Banzai!_" rent the air over and over again. "Hurrah for the Mikado! Down with the Russians!" A little while after the fighting came to an end, several small boats put off from the two Japanese warships and half a dozen of the Mikado's naval officers presented themselves at the _Pocastra's_ side. The Russian ship still listed heavily, but after the smoke below had cleared away it was ascertained that the damage done was not as great as had been imagined. One of the magazines which had been in danger of blowing up had been flooded, and the rush of sea water had likewise put out a fire that had started in the stern. As soon as order could be restored on board of the _Pocastra_ a complete surrender was made to the Japanese, the Russian captain giving up his sword. Then a general conference was had lasting over an hour. At the end of that time, much to their surprise, the Americans were asked to go over to one of the Japanese warships. "We'll go, and glad of the chance," said Captain Ponsberry; and soon the transfer was made. CHAPTER XVI ABOARD A JAPANESE WARSHIP "What a beauty of a ship!" Such was Larry's exclamation as he stepped aboard of the Japanese warship. The vessel was, like the Russian prize, an auxiliary cruiser and named the _Mimora Juri_. She was but three years old and had been used for passenger service between Japan and China. For such a small cruiser she carried an unusually heavy battery, and everything was shined up to the last degree,--the work having been undertaken directly after the battle was over. The _Mimora Juri_ had suffered but little damage during the contest and only a handful of men had been killed and wounded. "This looks more like Uncle Sam's navy than anything I have seen yet," said Luke. "Well, I don't know that the decorations aboard our ships are quite so fine," returned the youth. "But then this isn't an ordinary fighting ship. Some of the auxiliary cruisers we used during the war with Spain--those that used to be trans-Atlantic steamers--were just as fine as this and finer." As soon as those from the _Columbia_ reached the Japanese warship the wounded were taken in charge by the surgeons and placed in the sick bay, as the hospital on a naval vessel is called. This was also in the best of order, with nice, swinging cots, and appliances of the latest designs. As there were many things to be arranged between the two Japanese vessels and the Russian prize, our friends were not interviewed until late in the evening. In the meantime, some of the Russians were made prisoners, and a prize crew was placed aboard of the _Pocastra_. Then the two Japanese warships moved away, with the captured cruiser between them. "Those Russians must feel sick," was Larry's comment. "It's worse for them, in a way, than if their ship had gone down." "Well, we all thought she was sinking," returned Captain Ponsberry. "If she had sunk I reckon some of us wouldn't be here to tell the tale." When evening came, a guard who could speak a little English conducted Captain Ponsberry, Larry, and Tom Grandon to the commander's cabin. Here they were met by Captain Tonkaka, who, being a graduate of the Japanese naval school, could speak not only English but also several other foreign languages. It may be mentioned here that the Japanese naval academy of to-day is one of the foremost institutions of its kind in the world. "I will hear your story, Captain Ponsberry," said the Japanese captain, politely, as he motioned his visitors to be seated. In a plain, direct manner the master of the _Columbia_ told his tale, starting from the time the schooner left Manila with a cargo intended for the Japanese Government. He told of the trouble with Semmel and of the mutiny, and then of the capture by the _Pocastra_. "You have assuredly been unfortunate," said Captain Tonkaka. "Have you any idea where your schooner is now?" "I have not, but I thought she must be close to the Russian ship--she and that Chinese junk, too. The _Pocastra_ was taking them to Vladivostok as prizes." "Ah!" The Japanese captain mused for a moment. "I dare say you would like to gain back your ship?" he continued. "Indeed I would!" cried Captain Ponsberry. "I'd give a pretty dollar to do so!" "I shall interview the captain of the Russian warship again to-morrow. It may be that he will tell us where she is--although I doubt it." After this a few questions were put to Larry and Tom Grandon and both corroborated what Captain Ponsberry had said. They were also questioned concerning the treatment they had received while on the _Pocastra_. "You may be thankful that the treatment was no worse," said Captain Tonkaka. "Of late some of the Russians have treated their prisoners in a most brutal fashion." "We are thankful," replied the master of the _Columbia_. The majority of the staterooms aboard of the _Mimora Juri_ were occupied by the officers of the cruiser, but one small room was turned over to Captain Ponsberry, and a larger apartment was turned over to Tom Grandon and Larry. At Larry's solicitation Luke Striker was allowed to "bunk in" with the first and second mates. "This 'ere ship is jest about next to a palace," was Luke's comment. "Ain't seen nothing so fancy in a long time." The Japanese warships were bound for the nearest naval station with their prize. They could readily have made eighteen knots an hour, but the crippled Russian cruiser could not make over ten, and so this was the rate of speed set for all three. The Americans were allowed the freedom of the ship and Larry and Luke spent many hours in inspecting the guns and other equipments, and in watching the Japanese jackies in the gun and cutlass drills, their physical exercises, and in their drills to fight fire and to lower the small boats. Everything on board ran as smoothly as clockwork, much to their delight. "I can tell you what, Luke!" cried Larry, enthusiastically, "this beats the Russians all hollow! I never saw anything so well done!" "Almost beats our own navy, doesn't it?" "Well, I don't know about that. But it is certainly just as good. That drill to fight fire is immense, and their physical exercises ought to make each man's muscles like iron." "They are a sturdy lot, lad, no two ways about that,--and they understand just how to keep themselves in the pink of condition." Luke rubbed his chin reflectively. "Do ye know what I have in mind to do?" "I think I can make a pretty good guess," came quickly from Larry. "Well?" "You're thinking that you'd like to join the Japanese navy, just to have a mix-up or two with the Russians." "You've struck the nail on the head, lad. And why not, seeing as how we are out here in fighting waters, and with no ship of our own to go aboard?" "Well, I feel a good bit that way myself. Ben is in the army, and so is Gilbert Pennington. If they can make a record for themselves why shouldn't I do the same? As it was I came close to joining the army with Ben." "So you told me before. But you're a born sailor, Larry, not a soldier." "I don't deny it. I'd rather be on board of a ship than on land any day." "Yes, to a fellow as gets used to the sea the land seems a strange place." From the Japanese on the warship who could speak English our friends learned much concerning the war. They were told that Admiral Togo's fleet was keeping a strict guard over the harbor approach to Port Arthur, and that a portion of the Japanese army was hemming in the city on the land side and had lately captured several hills of importance. From Captain Tonkaka the Americans obtained permission to station themselves in one of the fighting tops, and here they spent hour after hour, on the lookout for the _Columbia_. Captain Ponsberry was particularly anxious to find his vessel, and kept scanning the Japan Sea through a fine spyglass the Japanese captain loaned him. "If I can gain possession of that ship, I am going to fix Semmel and Peterson," said the master of the _Columbia_. "Both of them declared that they took possession of the ship for the sake of the Russian Government," said Larry. "That being the case, they should be treated as prisoners of war." "Exactly my idea, Larry." "Semmel is a thoroughly bad egg," came from Tom Grandon. "He will lie out of his troubles if he can possibly do so." "It will be a shame if we don't find the _Columbia_ again," went on Larry. "Think of those rascals taking her to Vladivostok and getting their share of the prize money! It makes me sick!" "Captain Tonkaka tells me that other Japanese warships are in this vicinity," said Captain Ponsberry. "They may fall in with the schooner even if we don't. But what they will do with her, in that case, there is no telling. They might claim her as a prize also, and if they did, I'd have some trouble in getting my property back." What the Japanese captain had said was true. In order to counteract the doings of the Russian squadron which was raiding the northern and eastern coasts of Japan, the Mikado had sent out a flying squadron of six or seven vessels, all of which, though not large, had good sailing powers. Owing to the heavy mists, the flying squadron became separated, and two of the vessels fell in with the _Pocastra_, as already described. Of the other ships some proceeded up the coast to Korea and caught two Russian colliers loaded with coal and another ship carrying steel rails for the Manchuria railroad. The remainder of the squadron put further to sea, and on the fourth day out caught sight of two Russian steamers loaded with munitions of war. A chase ensued, lasting three days, and several shots were exchanged at long range. But a mist, coming up one night, put an end to the chase, and chagrined to think that the enemy had given them the slip after all, the Japanese turned back once more, to look for the other vessels of the flying squadron. CHAPTER XVII THE RETAKING OF THE "COLUMBIA" "We are in for another storm!" It was Larry who made the remark. He was in one of the tops with Luke, gazing anxiously to the westward, where the black clouds were beginning to pile up. "Right you are, lad--and it's going to be a heavy one, unless I miss my guess." The storm broke half an hour later, and the wind and rain were so furious that our friends were glad to leave the top and go below. But some of the Japanese sailors did not appear to mind the lashing of the elements and remained on deck as if nothing out of the ordinary was occurring. "These chaps beat me!" said Larry. "They are certainly as tough as pine knots. I never saw their equal." "I'm beginning to think that the Japanese are a wonderful nation," put in Tom Grandon, seriously. "I used to look at them as something like the Chinese. But there is a wide difference between them and the Chinks." "A Chinaman isn't in it alongside of a Japanese," came from Captain Ponsberry. "The Japanese are up-to-date and very progressive; the Chinese are about a hundred years behind the times." The storm continued for the best part of half a day. There was but little thunder and lightning, but the wind blew a perfect gale. Yet even the _Pocastra_ did not seem to mind the wind, and all three of the warships proceeded on their way at only a slightly reduced rate of speed. "Such a gale as this will play havoc with the sailing vessels," said Larry. "I wonder how the old _Columbia_ is making out?" "I was thinking that same," rejoined Captain Ponsberry. "To tell the truth, I'd rather have her go to the bottom than see her taken to a Russian port as a prize." When the storm cleared away, Larry was one of the first to go on deck, to get a whiff of "washed air," as he called it. The others followed. "I see a sail!" cried the youth, a moment later, and at that instant came a cry from the lookout. Far to the eastward was a sailing vessel flying a signal of distress. "She looks familiar to me!" ejaculated Captain Ponsberry, and ran to get Captain Tonkaka's glass. One glance through the instrument was enough. "The _Columbia_!" "Are you sure?" cried Larry. "She certainly is the _Columbia_," said Tom Grandon, after a look through the glass. "She has lost her fore topmast and part of her bowsprit." "And a part of the stern rail is gone," added Larry, after he too had used the glass. "Let us tell Captain Tonkaka," he added, starting to go below. The news that the _Columbia_ was in sight was soon circulated throughout the ship, and Captain Tonkaka at once signaled to the other warships that he was going to her assistance. Then the _Mimora Juri_ steamed away on her new course. As they drew closer to the schooner they could see that the storm had treated the gallant old ship roughly enough. Many of the sails were in ribbons, and not only the fore topmast but also half a dozen of the spars were gone. One end of the forecastle was stove in, and a part of the stern was a wreck. "This is the worst yet!" cried Larry. "They must have caught more of the gale than we did." "They didn't know how to handle her, that's the reason of it," came from Captain Ponsberry. "We have taken her through a worse blow than that; eh, Tom?" "I think so," answered the second mate. As soon as the Japanese warship was close enough a boat was lowered and an officer went aboard of the schooner, followed by several of his crew and Captain Ponsberry, Grandon, and Larry. The Russians having the schooner in charge were meek enough. As a matter of fact the gale had terrorized them, and all had imagined they were surely going to the bottom of the sea. They did not like it to find themselves in the hands of the enemy and were astonished when they learned that the _Pocastra_ had been captured. "It was a fearful storm," said the Russian officer who was in charge. "Several times I fancied the masts would all go by the board. I shall never want another such experience. One man was washed overboard and several were badly hurt by the wrecking of the forecastle." "Were any of my former men injured?" asked Captain Ponsberry. "It was my fellow countryman, Ostag Semmel, who was swept overboard and drowned," answered the Russian officer. "Semmel!" ejaculated Larry. He drew a long breath and his hatred of the man died all in an instant. "Poor chap! That was rough on him!" "It certainly was rough," answered Captain Ponsberry. "And what of the others?" "Both Peterson and Shamhaven were hurt, but not seriously. They are below resting," was the answer. It was found that some of the seams of the schooner had opened but that no alarming quantity of water was running into the well. The Russians were asked to surrender as prisoners of war and this they did willingly, and were transferred to the Japanese warship. Then Captain Ponsberry was asked if he wished to take charge of the _Columbia_ again. "Will a duck swim!" he cried. "Of course I want to take charge. Hasn't she always been my ship? And my crew will want to go with me, I know." "But the wreckage----" began Captain Tonkaka. "I'll attend to that, sir,--don't you worry. Only give me back my ship, that's all I ask." "It shall be as you say, Captain Ponsberry. But when you get to Nagasaki you will have to settle matters with the Japanese Government. It is, all told, a rather peculiar case. In one way, she is now a Japanese prize of war, and in another way she is not." "I understand, and the courts will have to settle the tangle, sir. I'll do what is fair, and I know the Richmond Importing Company will do the same." "Then you can go aboard of the ship as soon as you please." "Thank you very much." Captain Ponsberry had returned to the warship for just this talk, and now he lost no time in getting back to the _Columbia_, taking with him all his crew, including Cal Vincent, who was just about able to get around once more. "Hurrah!" cried Larry, "this seems like home once more, doesn't it?" "That's what it does," answered Luke. "But there is plenty of work ahead, I can tell you that, lad." "I don't care--work will help to pass the time." When Peterson and Shamhaven saw Captain Ponsberry they did not know what to say. The loss of their leader, Semmel, had humbled them greatly. "I'm not going to say much to you, seeing as how both of you are hurt," said the master of the _Columbia_, briefly. "But understand, I want no nonsense from either of you." "I'll do all I can to assist you, captain," said Shamhaven, humbly. "All I want is another chance." "Which you'll not get from me," was the quick rejoinder. "I know you thoroughly, Shamhaven, and I am done with you. You and Peterson aided the Russians and you can now consider yourselves under arrest. When we get into port I'm going to hand you over to the Japanese authorities." Both of the culprits wanted to argue, but the captain would not listen. Their hurts were inspected and they were told that they would be allowed three days in which to recuperate, after which they would have to do their share of duty. "I don't like this," growled Shamhaven, after the interview was over. "Peterson, we are in it deeper than ever." "Dat is so," was the answer, with a scowl. "Vell, ve not put up mit him, hey? Maybe, ven we git near shore, we run avay, Shamhaven." "Yes, if we can get the chance. But I don't know where you are going to run to--especially if you haven't any money." "Ve git money." "From where?" "I ton't know dot yet, no, but ve git him, yes. Captain Ponsberry must haf some, and dot Larry Russell, too. Vonce I see Russell mit a money pelt vot haf some gold in him, yes." "A money belt with gold? You must be dreaming." "No, I see him mit mine two eyes. He count der gold. He haf more as dirty pieces." "That is worth remembering," answered Shamhaven. And he began to speculate upon what he could do in Japan if he was free and had a money belt full of gold. That Larry had a money belt was true. He had purchased it several years before, while on shore duty in the Philippines. He was a saving fellow and found the belt useful in which to place his wages and the money which he occasionally received from home. Strange as it may seem, the belt had not been taken away from him by the Russians, and it now contained nearly three hundred dollars. The money was mostly in gold,--for he had found that gold could be used no matter where he went. CHAPTER XVIII A CLEVER RUSE As soon as Captain Ponsberry was in charge of the _Columbia_ once more he set about without delay to put the schooner in proper condition for the run to Nagasaki. The broken-off foremast was allowed to remain as it was, but a temporary bowsprit was set into place, and the damage to the forecastle and to the stern repaired. A temporary rail was also nailed up, so that there might be no danger of anybody slipping overboard. In all this work the sailors and the ship's carpenter did their best, and the captain and his mates helped. Sails were also sewed up, or replaced, and inside of forty-eight hours the old _Columbia_ was once more on her way. The water taken aboard was pumped out, and the pumps were kept going two hours each morning and two hours each afternoon. "She will do now," said the captain, after the heaviest of the work was over. "But when we reach Nagasaki I'll have to put her in the dock for regular repairs. I shouldn't dare to take her to Manila or to San Francisco in such a condition." "It will take a long time to have the repairs made in Japan," said Larry. "All the shipyards are busy on government work." "True, lad, but that cannot be helped. The law would not allow me to sign a crew with a ship that was not seaworthy." "Then we'll have a long lay-off when we reach Nagasaki." "Exactly, Larry. But I shan't keep you. If you want to go elsewhere----" "Not on another sailing vessel, Captain Ponsberry. But you know how it is with Luke Striker and myself. Ever since we were in our own navy we have had a hankering after warships, and----" "And you think of joining the Japanese navy?" put in the master of the schooner, quickly. "That's it. You know how I spoke of joining the army with Ben and Gilbert." "To be sure--and I told you I couldn't spare you." "But now, if you haven't any use for me any longer----" "Why, Larry, if you want to fight for Japan, go ahead and fight!" ejaculated Captain Ponsberry. "I don't blame you. I'd fight myself if I was a younger man and hadn't any obligations on my shoulders. I suppose Ben is doing great things in the army and you'd like to match him in the navy, eh?" "If I join the navy I'll do my best." "Will Striker go with you?" "Oh, yes, Luke and I always go together, if we can. He was my chum when we fought under Dewey and he has been my chum ever since." "And a good fellow, too, Larry--a man with a heart of gold. If it wasn't that you and Tom Grandon were with me, I should have made him a mate long ago." "I don't doubt that, sir--and he is worthy of it." Larry paused for a moment. "Of course, I don't know if they want any of us in the navy." "Didn't you tell me before that they had several men you had met while under Dewey and some your brother Walter had met while fighting in Cuban waters?" "Yes, but that was some time ago." "If they took those chaps then it's likely they will take you now--unless, of course, they have all the men they want--which I doubt." "We shall not go as ordinary jackies. Ben got a commission as a captain, and Luke thinks he might go as a gunner and I might go as an assistant gunner. We occupied those positions before we left our navy." "Then I should certainly strike for the positions. They may need gunners even if they don't need common seamen," responded Captain Ponsberry. As fortune would have it, the run to Nagasaki was made without incident worthy of special mention. Once there was a scare on board, as the water in the well hole increased with alarming rapidity. But the new leak was discovered in time, and the ship's carpenter had little difficulty in repairing it. They also sighted a vessel they thought might be a Russian warship, but she proved instead to be a Japanese coastwise freighter, carrying lumber from one port to another on the northern coast of Japan. As the _Columbia_ drew closer to Nagasaki both Peterson and Shamhaven grew more anxious over what was to become of them. Neither desired a term in a Japanese prison, and both wondered what sort of a charge Captain Ponsberry and the captain of the Japanese warship would prefer against them. So far Captain Ponsberry had allowed them their liberty, but through the talk of a couple of sailors they presently learned that they were to be cast into the ship's brig and placed under guard as soon as the schooner dropped anchor. "This looks black for us," said Shamhaven, moodily. "I wish we were out of it." "I haf a plan got, yes," answered Peterson. "To get away?" The other nodded. "Then let me hear the plan by all means, Peterson." "It vos--vot you call him--risky, yes. Maype ve get shot--you no like him, no?" "Of course I don't want to get shot. But what is your plan?" "So soon like de ship come up by der harbor we vatch our chances an' trop oferpoard, yes." "And swim ashore?" "Maype ve schwim by some udder poat, yes. Of ve got money we go to leetle poat--gif Jap mans money to take us avay, you see now?" "You mean to watch for some small Japanese boat--a bumboat, eh? And bribe the boatman to take us to some place of safety?" "You got him now, yes." "That's good enough if we can find the bumboat and get the money with which to do the bribing." "Captain Ponsberry got money--an' Russell he got money pelt, like I told you." "Oh, I haven't forgotten about that money belt," returned Shamhaven. "And I wouldn't mind taking it if I could get my hands on it. But Russell must wear it most of the time." "I t'ink he not put him on by der night dime, no." "What do you know about Captain Ponsberry's money?" "He got money in a leetle pag--I see him vonce." "How much do you think?" At this Peterson shrugged his shoulders. "No can tell dat--maype a thousand dollars." There was a pause, and Shamhaven drew a long breath. "One thing is certain," he resumed. "I don't intend to go to a Japanese prison, or an American prison either, if I can help it, and if we cut loose here in a strange country we are bound to need more or less money with which to get along. Without money a fellow can't do a thing in a strange country." "We git money--chust you vait," said Peterson. At last the _Columbia_ came into sight of the shipping of Nagasaki. But it was now dark, and a heavy fog was hanging over the harbor, so it was impossible to make the proper landing before the next day. They came to anchor and the necessary lights were hung out. "This is our chance," said Shamhaven. "It is now or never!" He had heard that Peterson and himself were to be made close prisoners directly after supper. He watched his chance and when nobody was looking motioned his confederate to leave the forecastle and steal silently toward the stern of the ship. Each carried a block of wood, to which was attached a bit of iron, to make it sink from sight. "Now then!" whispered Shamhaven, and threw the block he carried overboard. It struck the water with a loud splash, and the block carried by Peterson immediately followed. "Hullo, what's that?" came in the voice of Tom Grandon. "Who threw something overboard?" "Sounded like somebody jumping into the water," replied Captain Ponsberry, who was on deck with the first mate. An examination was made, but in the fog and darkness nothing could be discovered. "It was mighty queer," was Grandon's comment. "Somebody must have done it." "Where are Shamhaven and Peterson?" "In the forecastle, I suppose. Do you think----" "I don't know what to think. See if they are there." At once Tom Grandon ran off, and made a tour not only of the forecastle but also of the forward deck. He called the men's names several times, and others quickly joined in the hunt. "They are gone!" he ejaculated, running back to where Captain Ponsberry stood. "Gone? Then it must have been them jumping overboard that we heard!" "Like as not--and they are a good bit away from the schooner by this time." "Bring a lantern and we'll take a look around." A lantern was brought, and a few minutes later a small boat was lowered, manned by Luke and three other sailors. Captain Ponsberry went with them, and the searchers remained out the best part of an hour. "They've given us the slip clean and clear," declared the master of the _Columbia_, on returning. "It was a risky thing to undertake in such weather as this." "Yes, and for all we know they may be at the bottom of the harbor," answered Tom Grandon. "Which place might be jest what they deserve," grumbled Luke Striker, as he helped to stow away the small boat once more. CHAPTER XIX THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ENEMY As soon as Peterson and Shamhaven threw the blocks of wood overboard they darted for the companionway of the schooner and crept noiselessly down to the cabin. The apartment was deserted, and the swinging lamp over the center table was turned low. On the table rested several charts which Captain Ponsberry had been consulting before joining Tom Grandon on deck. It was Larry's watch below and he was improving the time by taking a much-needed nap. He lay on the berth in his stateroom, with the door wide open to admit the fresh air. "Make no noise!" whispered Shamhaven. "If we are discovered the jig is up with us." "Russell is here, yes?" came from Peterson. "Sh-sh! Yes--over in yonder stateroom." They closed the door leading to the companionway and then tiptoed their way to where Larry lay. "More than likely he keeps his money belt under his pillow when he sleeps," said Shamhaven. "Wait till I find out." He shoved his hand under the headrest with caution and presently his fingers came into contact with a strip of leather and chamois. He pulled on it gently, but it refused to budge. "Lift his head a little," he said, and Peterson started to do as requested. But the movement, gentle as it was, caused Larry to open his eyes. "Wha--what are you doing here?" stammered the young second mate, when, waiting for no more words, Peterson clapped a dirty hand over his mouth. "Keep still, you! If you no keep still I hit you good, yes!" "Confound the luck," muttered Shamhaven. "I didn't want him to know what we were up to." Larry began to struggle and with an effort threw aside the hand over his mouth. "Le--let up!" he spluttered. "I want you----Help!" "Shut up!" cried Shamhaven, fiercely, and struck him a swinging blow in the temple. Another blow from Peterson followed, and then, with flashing lights darting through his brain, Larry lost consciousness. Both men bent over him to see if he would move. When he lay as still as if dead they looked at each other with satisfaction. "He won't bother us any more--at least, not for awhile," was Shamhaven's comment. "Quick, de money belt!" came from Peterson, and as he raised up Larry's head, Shamhaven secured it and stowed it away in the bosom of his shirt. "You no keep him!" he went on, in alarm, showing that he did not trust his companion in crime. "We'll divide up afterwards," said Shamhaven, briefly. "Now to locate the captain's little pile." Both tiptoed their way into Captain Ponsberry's stateroom. Here there was a small safe, with the door closed. "A safe, eh?" said Shamhaven. "Wonder if we can open it?" He knelt down and tried to work the combination lock. The safe was old and out of order and the captain had had the combination lock made as simple as possible in consequence. Soon there came a click, followed by another, and the bolts shot back. "Luck is with us!" cried Shamhaven. "Dare is de leetle pag," came from Peterson, and reaching into the safe he drew the article forth. There was a slip string at the top which he pulled apart. "Gold!" he cried. "See--dirty--forty bieces of gold!" And then he shut the bag again, and placed it into his own shirt bosom. "Remember, half of that is mine," came sharply from Shamhaven. He fancied there might be more in the bag than in the money belt. "Yes,--an' haf de money-pelt money ist mine, yes," returned Peterson. "Right you are, Peterson. Now to get away from the ship." "Let us lock Russell in de stateroom first." "A good idea!" The door was closed and locked. Larry still lay unconscious and there was no telling how soon he would come to his senses. They heard the tramping on the deck and the departure of the small boat. Now those in the boat came back and the search for the missing men came to an end. With the slyness of a pair of cats, the evildoers crept up the companionway once more. Nobody was in sight, and they crawled rather than walked to the rail of the schooner. Both were good swimmers and not afraid to trust themselves to reach some other shipping in the harbor. Yet as an extra precaution each provided himself with a life-preserver. "Are you ready, Peterson?" "Yes." "Then over we go." A small rope was handy, and lowering this, each slid along it into the waters of the harbor. Then they struck out swiftly but silently; and in a few minutes the fog and darkness hid them completely from view. It was the best part of an hour before Larry returned to his senses. His head ached as if ready to split open and for several minutes he could not remember where he was or what had occurred. "Oh, my head!" he groaned. "Oh!" And he turned over and tried to sit up, with the result that he pitched out on the floor of the stateroom. This aroused him and he got up as quickly as he could. "Those rascals attacked me!" he muttered. "They struck me over the head! I remember now! Oh, how my head spins,--just as if I was in a merry-go-round! I wonder----" He dropped on the berth and snatched away the pillow. One glance was sufficient to show him how he had been robbed. "That's why they attacked me!" he cried. "Wonder where they are now? Perhaps they ran away from the ship!" Leaping up again he stepped to the door, and finding it locked, began to pound away lustily, at the same time yelling at the top of his lungs. In a few minutes this brought down Captain Ponsberry, followed by Luke, who had been told to come along, the captain fearing that something had gone wrong. "What's up here?" demanded Captain Ponsberry as he flung open the door. "Where are they?" came the counter-question from Larry. "They? Who?" "Peterson and Shamhaven?" "Gone--slid away in the fog." "They have robbed me!" "You don't say!" ejaculated the master of the _Columbia_. "You are sure?" he went on. "Yes. My money belt is gone. They came while I was asleep, and when I woke up both hit me,--and I don't know what happened after that. I just came to my senses and found myself locked in." "The villains!" burst in Luke. "Those chaps ought to be swung up to a yardarm!" The captain listened to Larry's story and then was prompted to take a look around the other staterooms. As a result he speedily discovered that the safe had been tampered with and that his own money was gone. "They are worse rascals than I thought them," said Captain Ponsberry, bitterly. "I am sorry that I did not make an example of them from the start." There was a good deal of speculation concerning what had become of Shamhaven and Peterson, and another search was instituted, lasting until the following day, but not a single trace of the evildoers could be found. "Well, I am out the whole of my savings," said Larry to Luke. "It's a shame, lad," replied the Yankee tar. "But if you need ready cash don't fail to draw on me. As long as I have a shot in the locker half on it is yours." "Thank you, Luke; I know you'd say that. You're the proper kind of a friend to have." "Avast, Larry, with your compliments. Wouldn't you do the same fer me?" "Indeed I would!" "Then it ain't worth talkin' about. Jest the same, I hope we run into them rascals some day; don't you?" "I do. But more than likely they'll give the _Columbia_ and us a wide berth after this," returned Larry. CHAPTER XX LARRY BEFORE ADMIRAL TOGO As soon as the _Columbia_ could make the proper landing, Captain Ponsberry went ashore and reported his arrival to the authorities, and also reported the escape of Shamhaven and Peterson. The authorities had already heard of the capture of the _Columbia_ from the Russians, and said that the schooner would have to remain at Nagasaki until the whole case could be adjusted. The Japanese were inclined to favor both the Richmond Importing Company and the owners of the vessel, so it was not likely that our friends would lose much in the end. In the meantime the _Columbia_ could be put in a dry-dock and given the overhauling that she needed. "We shall do all we can to locate Shamhaven and Peterson and get back your money," said an official of the secret service department. But his hands were so full with other matters of greater importance that little attention was paid to the disappearance of the two rascals. "Well, this will tie me up at Nagasaki for some time to come," said Captain Ponsberry to Larry, on the third day after arriving at the Japanese port. "Which means, I suppose, that I can join the Japanese navy if I wish," returned the young second mate, quickly. "I don't want to force you to leave the ship, lad. But you said----" "I know, Captain Ponsberry, and I am glad of the chance to get away. Luke and I have talked it over once more, and yesterday we met a gunner named Steve Colton--he served on the _Brooklyn_ at the time Walter did. He is now a gun captain on board of Admiral Togo's flagship, and he is almost certain he can get us good positions. He says gunners and gunners' assistants are just now badly needed." "Then go by all means, Larry, and make even a bigger record for yourself than your brother Ben is making in the army. Perhaps, when this war is over, you'll come back to the old _Columbia_, eh?" "More than likely, and I guess Luke Striker will come, too." What Larry had said about meeting Steve Colton was true. As readers of a story of mine entitled "Fighting in Cuban Waters" know, Colton had been a gun captain under Commodore Schley, and as such had become fairly well acquainted with Walter Russell and had also heard of Larry, who was at that time serving under Admiral Dewey at Manila. A detail from Admiral Togo's flagship had been sent ashore at Nagasaki, and Larry and Luke, as they walked through the streets, had met several of these men. Hearing two of them speaking English they had halted the pair; and introductions had followed. "So you are Larry Russell," said Steve Colton. "Any relation to Walter Russell that once served on the U. S. Cruiser _Brooklyn_?" "Walter is my brother," replied Larry, quickly. "Oh, so you are the chap that was cast away in the Pacific and picked up by Admiral Dewey's flagship, eh?" "The same, and this is the friend who was with me, Luke Striker." "Glad to know ye both." Steve Colton shook hands. "This is my friend, Bob Stanford--he hails from San Francisco and is a gunner's mate with me. What are you doing in this corner of the earth?" A long talk followed, in which Larry and Luke told their story, and Steve Colton and his friend related how they had come to join the Japanese navy. "It's this way," said Colton. "I've got the fighting blood in my veins and it won't come out. As soon as this war broke out, I cut sticks from 'Frisco with Bob and we comes to Tokio. There I met another American who was in the navy here, and it wasn't two days before we were booked for Admiral Togo's flagship. We've been down to Port Arthur twice, and I reckon we'll go again before long." "Perhaps we'll go up to Vladivostok next time," came from Bob Stanford. "I've heard something of bombarding that Russian port." Colton and Stanford had a couple of hours to themselves and Larry and Luke invited them over to the _Columbia_. In return they were asked to come over to Admiral Togo's flagship, the gunners having the privilege of bringing their friends aboard during the brief stay in Nagasaki harbor. "You can come aboard to-morrow," said Steve Colton. "They have an inspection and drill, and you can see how they do it in the Japanese navy--not but what it's a good bit like it's done on Uncle Sam's warships." Larry and Luke were very willing to go aboard of the Japanese warship, and were taken out by Colton the next day, and introduced to several gunners and others who could speak a little English. They were also taken before the head gunner, who took them to the commander of the warship. "They both served under Admiral Dewey at Manila," said the head gunner, and this made the commander smile quietly as he shook hands and told them to make themselves at home. "Everything is as clean as a whistle," was Larry's comment, as they walked around the forward part of the warship and through the gun decks. "The Japs certainly know how to take care of things. Luke, just look at how the brasswork shines!" "That's the way it ought to be," was the Yankee tar's reply. "No slackness, an' I'm glad on it. I love a clean ship above all things." Steve Colton and Bob Stanford were enthusiastic over the gun they commanded and explained how it worked. It was certainly an effective weapon and Larry and Luke were thoroughly interested. "I could handle sech a gun myself," said Luke. "An' do some damage, too; eh, Larry?" "Anyway, I'd like to try it," returned the youth. Orders were now being issued for the inspection and drill, and presently nearly all on board of the flagship hurried to the main deck. Here the marines were drawn up in long lines, with the officers in their proper places. The sailors and gunners were also at hand, each togged out in his best, for inspection by an admiral on any warship means a great deal. Presently Admiral Togo appeared, followed by several other naval officers of lesser rank. He was in full dress, with many decorations on his breast, and carried his sword. He proved to be a man well along in years, with a round face, and small mustache and goatee. "He looks like a fighter!" whispered Larry. "True for you, lad," returned Luke. "An' I reckon he knows how to handle men." What our friends said about Admiral Togo was true. He was a fighter and a born leader of men. When the Naval Academy of Japan was inaugurated he was one of the first graduates, and he was sent by the government to complete his nautical education in England, where, during 1873 and 1874, he served on the training ship _Worcester_, making a record for himself as a first-class pupil in every respect. On returning home Togo Heihachiro--to use his full name--found a great task confronting his people. They were becoming civilized as we term civilization and needed a modern navy. He set to work with vim and vigor, and then and there laid the foundation of that navy which is to-day known as one of the most effective in the world. The navy had scarcely come into existence when there came rumors of war with China. The rumors grew, and China became more and more hateful toward the Japanese. To the outside world it looked as if China, with her vast territory and her immense number of people, would swallow up the sons of Nippon bodily. At last it was discovered that China was transporting troops with which to begin the war. Togo waited for no instructions from his home government. He went at the Chinese with vigor. The war followed, and after a number of thrilling contests the Japanese were victorious, and Admiral Togo emerged from the struggle covered with glory. "He is the man to lead us to victory against the Russians!" was the cry throughout the navy, when war was declared between Russia and Japan, and how he sent his ships to Port Arthur and other places, and what effective work was done by them, has already been related. In the whole of the Japanese navy, to serve on the admiral's flagship, the _Mikasa_, was considered a great honor. The inspection and drill were exceedingly interesting to Larry and Luke, and they watched both with close attention. After it was over Admiral Togo addressed the men briefly and then turned to the commander of the ship. "See, he is pointing to us!" whispered Luke. "Hang me if I don't think he is talking about us to the captain!" "An officer is coming," replied Larry, and a moment later one of the admiral's staff came hurrying to them. "Are you the two Americans who served under Admiral Dewey at Manila?" questioned the staff officer. "We are," answered Larry. "Admiral Togo wishes you to come to him." "Oh, Luke, we are going to be presented to the admiral!" cried Larry. "Great pewter!" groaned the Yankee tar. "I didn't expect this nohow. But I don't care," he added, bracing up. "He ain't no bigger nor Dewey. Come along." He followed the staff officer and Larry did the same. They felt that the eyes of many of the sailors and marines were on them, and stepped out as firmly as possible. Coming up to the admiral, they took off their caps and saluted. Admiral Togo surveyed the two Americans with interest. He had heard how they had come to serve under Dewey at Manila and he smiled pleasantly as he held out his hand, first to Larry and then to Luke. "Let me give you a welcome, my men," said he. "I have been told your story. I hope this visit to my ship has interested you." "Very much, sir," answered Luke. "I liked the drill, sir," answered Larry, with a smile. "It was fine. And everything is so clean! Really, I don't think it could be cleaner!" At this Admiral Togo smiled again. "That is a compliment,--since it comes from one who has served in the American navy." He then asked them to remain where they were, while some of the men went through an exercise with their cutlasses. There was also a gun drill, and they were asked to show how they had handled a gun during the battle of Manila Bay. "You are well drilled, I can see that," said the admiral, on dismissing them. "They tell me you think of entering our navy. If you wish to do so I think likely we can find suitable openings for you." CHAPTER XXI LETTERS OF INTEREST The enlistment of Larry and Luke Striker into the Japanese navy came sooner than anticipated. A new warship was being fitted out at a harbor some forty miles from Nagasaki, and Steve Colton and Bob Stanford were transferred to this. Two new gun crews were badly needed on the new ship, and inside of forty-eight hours our friends had signed the muster roll and were put into training, under Colton. The positions occupied were those of gunner and gunner's mate. "Hurrah for Nippon!" cried Larry, enthusiastically. "Luke, after this we have got to learn to yell _Banzai!_ in true Japanese style." "This gun is a beauty," replied the Yankee tar, as he looked the piece over. "I reckon as I can make her do considerable damage if I get the chance." "And I'll help all I can," said Larry. "Won't Ben and Gilbert be surprised when they hear of this?" he added. "They might know you'd do something of the sort." "That's so, too. By the way, I'm going up to the post-office to-day and see if there are any letters." Much to the satisfaction of our friends they found over a score of men on the warship who could speak English. Some, of course, could speak but little, yet they could make themselves understood. On the other hand, both Larry and Luke began to pick up the Japanese language remarkably fast. "If we keep at this for six months we'll be regular Japanese," said the youth. "It's not so hard as I thought it would be." They found the discipline on the warship very strict and were called on to "toe the mark" continually. Yet all the officers were as considerate as they were firm, so there was little of hardship. When Larry called at the post-office for letters he found two good-sized epistles awaiting him. One was from his brother Walter, and ran, in part, as follows: "There is nothing particularly new in this part of the globe. I am doing very well in my new business and it looks now as if I should make a big thing of it. I rather think I am more cut out for work on land than for life on shipboard, although I don't regret the time I spent in the navy. "Uncle Job is feeling very well these days and is building a new wing to the old house--going to put in a library of good books he tells me. He is as dear an old chap now as anybody would want for an uncle. "I suppose you will hear from Ben and Gilbert. I am expecting a letter every day. It's queer you didn't go with them, but I suppose the old _Columbia_ with her crew suits you better." "I am glad everything is all right at home," thought Larry, as he finished reading the communication. "A new wing to the house, eh? Uncle Job must be spreading himself. Reckon he has found out there is something more to live for in this world than mere money." The second letter was from Ben, as he could tell by the handwriting. It had been on the way a long time and had been sent to half a dozen places, including Manila. There was a great deal about life in the Japanese army, and also a full description of the capture of Liao-Yang. Ben then continued: "We are now on guard a few miles outside of the city. Our camp stretches for many miles, and we are doing all in our power to strengthen our position. What the next move will be there is no telling. One report is, that our particular command will help to chase the Russians to Mukden, while another report has it that we are to march southward, to aid in the attempt to take Port Arthur. "I have already told you what trouble Gilbert had with that rascally Russian merchant, Ivan Snokoff, and with Snokoff's confederate, Captain Barusky, of the Russian army. Well, at Liao-Yang we found Snokoff disguised as a Chinaman, and Gilbert made the fellow pay over all that was coming to him for the Richmond Importing Company. In the attempt to capture Snokoff, Gilbert shot him in the leg. It was only a slight wound, but the Russian was as mad as a hornet, and he vowed he would get square some time. He is now in the hospital here, but they expect to let him leave in a few days. He really ought to be put under arrest, but as he has paid up the money he owed, there doesn't seem to be any way of holding him. It's out of the question to go to court with the case. I helped Gilbert to put Snokoff under guard, and he is as angry at me as he is at Gilbert. I don't know if he will dare to do anything or not, but both of us are keeping our eyes open." Larry read this letter twice before he stowed it away. He was always interested in war news and he thought the description of the great battle of Liao-Yang very realistic. He shook his curly head when he thought of Ivan Snokoff. "He must be an underhanded rascal if ever there was one," he mused. "And to think he disguised himself as a Chinaman! I'll wager Gilbert thought it a fine thing to expose him and make him pay up. But he and Ben had better look out, or Snokoff and that Captain Barusky may cause them a lot of trouble." Larry had an hour to himself, and he spent the time in answering both letters, telling briefly what had happened to him since the trip to Manila and how he and Luke were now in service on board of the Japanese warship _Shohirika_. He added that he liked the position of gunner's mate very much, and that he meant to make a record for himself if given the opportunity to do so. He also told about the doings of Shamhaven and Peterson, and said he hoped to bring them to justice, although he realized that looking for them was as bad as "looking for a pearl on the ocean bottom." The letters finished, he addressed and posted them, and then he and Luke took a short stroll through Nagasaki, past the many curious shops, and the fine residences. Some of the shop windows displayed flaring war pictures, done in glaring colors,--all telling of tremendous Japanese victories on land and sea. "They certainly believe in tooting their own horn," said Larry, with a laugh over one of the pictures. "Just see this one, Luke--one Japanese officer mowing down three Russians with his sword!" "They ain't no worse nor we had at home during the Spanish war, lad. I know one picture I see o' a Rough Rider riding down half a dozen Spanish soldiers. An' the truth o' the matter is, them Rough Riders didn't have no horses at all but fought on foot!" "You're right, Luke. We'll have to put all such pictures down as freaks of the artist's imagination. But I guess I know why some of them are put out--to draw the young fellows into the army and navy." "Right ye are. Some fellers seeing a picture like that want to march to glory right off,--an' so they go an' enlist. When it comes to hardtack an' black coffee----" "Hold on, Luke. Remember you are in Japan. Here it is rice and tea." "So it is, Larry. Say, but I had to laugh yesterday, when I see some of them jackies on board o' our ship gettin' out their teapots with tea." "It did look funny. But they do the same thing in the army, so I have been told. They can make the Japanese soldier and sailor do everything as we do it but give up his tea." "Well, I reckon tea is better nor rum." "Certainly it is,--and if I were an officer I'd let them have all the tea they wanted--if they would fight any better for it." "Those Russian sailors and soldiers drink an awful lot of _vodka_. I should think they would try to stop that. A half-drunken sailor or soldier isn't of any account." "They are so used to having it, I've been told, that to stop it would bring on a regular mutiny. It's hard to break off using a thing when you are used to it." "Right ye are, lad; a habit if it ain't proper is something awful." All was bustle throughout Nagasaki, for several regiments of soldiers had come in, bound for some transports which were to take them to Manchuria. Banners were flying everywhere, and from a distance came the music of a band. "Wonder how soon we will leave," said Larry, when he and his old friend were returning to the warship. "Now that we have enlisted, I'd like to see some fighting." "Maybe we'll get more fighting than we want, lad. But I'd like to get into it myself," continued the Yankee gunner, with a grin. Two days more were spent at Nagasaki, and then, on a clear morning, the _Shohirika_ left the harbor and steamed off in company with two sister ships. They were to join a squadron bound for the western coast of Korea, but where they were to go after that there was no telling. Captain Ponsberry came to see Larry and Luke off. "Take good care of yourselves," said the master of the _Columbia_. "An' teach them Russians the lesson they deserve." "We expect to do our duty," answered Larry. Life on the Japanese warship proved to be very much like life in the American navy. There were hours set apart for various drills and exercises. Each day they had to go through the movements of handling the gun, fighting with cutlasses, putting out a fire, and manning the small boats. They also had to keep their ditty bags and grass hammocks in good order, also their eating utensils, and each had to do his share of cleaning up. Twice a week the ship's surgeon examined each man, to see that he was perfectly healthy. "I like this keeping things clean," said Larry. "It is bound to make for good health." "They tell me that Japanese sailors and soldiers are among the healthiest in the world," answered Luke. In a few days the southern point of Korea was passed and the bow of the warship was pointed toward the eastern coast of Manchuria. They were now getting close to the battleground and the lookout was constantly watching for the appearance of the ships of the enemy. "We'll have a fight before very long--I can feel it in my bones," declared Larry. And he was right; but before telling of that contest, and what surprising results it led to, we shall have to tell of something else which occurred, to delight Larry exceedingly. CHAPTER XXII A MEETING AND A PLOT "Some Japanese transports are coming up," said Larry, two days later. "Six of them, and they are crowded to the rails with soldiers." "I reckon we are to act as an escort to them," replied Luke. "They would need an escort, if they fell in with a Russian cruiser or two." The Japanese transports were bound for the coast of Manchuria, to land near the village of Petaka. Soon they fell in behind the _Shohirika_; and then those on the warship knew that they were going to go close to shore, if not to make an actual landing. A fog came up that night, which made the transports hold off. But the next day was as bright and clear as before, and about noon land was sighted to the westward. A patrol boat was sent ahead and came back stating that all was clear for a landing. Then the warships went closer and the transports followed. On the following day Larry found himself on shore--having been taken along by one of the officers of the ship to interview an English merchant who wished to sell some goods to the Japanese. The officer could speak some English, but wanted somebody along who could help him out in case he could not make himself clearly understood. The landing was at a small Chinese town which was partly in ashes--the Russians having tried to burn it down before leaving. There were a dozen shops, but all were closed and with the windows boarded up. Many of the Chinese had fled to the country beyond; and a Japanese regiment was on guard to preserve order and to keep the Chunchuses, (Chinese brigands) from looting the place. "This shows what war will do," thought Larry, as he walked along beside the Japanese naval officer. "I suppose some of the Chinese have lost all they possessed--and through no fault of their own either." The business with the English merchant was transacted quicker than anticipated, and, not caring to go back to his ship at once, the naval officer visited the camp of the Japanese regiment, taking Larry with him. "We expect another detachment here this afternoon," said one of the regimental commanders to the naval officer. "They are to escort a powder train through the mountains." A little while later the detachment came in on foot, looking somewhat tired and dusty from a long tramp through an exceedingly rough country. As the soldiers came to a halt in the public square of the seaport village, Larry uttered a cry of amazement: "Ben!" "Why, Larry, can it be you?" came in a tone of astonishment, and on the instant Ben Russell rushed forward and caught his brother by the hands. "I must be dreaming!" "I guess I'm dreaming myself!" said Larry, and gave his brother a warm hug. "This beats the Dutch! I thought you were at Liao-Yang. How are you and how did you get here?" "One question at a time, please," returned Ben, with a happy smile. "I'm pretty well, although I had a little dose of fever a couple of weeks ago. Our Japanese doctor fixed me up in double-quick time. Our command was ordered down here to look after a powder train. There was a report that either the Russians or the Chunchuses were going to try to capture it or blow it up. Now, how have you been, and what are you doing here? I thought the old _Columbia_ was at Nagasaki." "You want to know as much as I do, Ben." There was a pause and both laughed merrily, they felt so happy. "I'm as sound as a fiddle. The _Columbia_ is at Nagasaki and likely to stay there for some time. Allow me to introduce myself, Lawrence Russell, gunner's mate aboard of the Mikado's cruiser _Shohirika_. My head gunner is Luke Striker, Esquire." "Never!" burst from Ben. "Well, this certainly is news. So you and Luke enlisted? Have you had any fighting?" "Not exactly. But we have seen some rough times," answered Larry, and then, as soon as Ben could get away for a quiet half-hour, he related his story in detail, just as I have set it down in these pages. "You are assuredly a lucky chap, Larry, not to be in a Russian prison this minute," said his brother, after the young sailor had finished. "Perhaps I am lucky, Ben. But it wasn't much of luck to have that Shamhaven and Peterson walk off with my money belt." "That is so, but as the amount taken wasn't a fortune I shouldn't worry about it. I can let you have any money you need." "I don't need any, and, besides, Luke is acting as my banker. But now tell me about yourself." "There isn't very much to tell, outside of what I put down in that letter you received. As you know, Gilbert and I are both attached to this command of Major Okopa." "Where is Gilbert now?" "His company was to bring up the rear. They'll be here very shortly. Since the battle of Liao-Yang we have been on special duty, looking after the pack and powder trains, and have seen very little of fighting. We are reinforcing our lines daily, and I think the Russians must be doing the same. I expect some more heavy fighting soon, unless winter steps in and puts a stop to everything. The nights are already rather cool," added Ben. It was half an hour later that the company under Gilbert came in, having in their custody two Chinese bandits that had tried to steal four horses belonging to two Japanese army carts. "So it's really you, Larry!" cried the young Southerner, as he shook hands. "I'm mightily glad to see you and see you looking so well. I suppose Ben has told you all the news." "Yes, and Larry has been telling some too," put in Ben. "He has seen almost as much of the Russians as we have." And then Larry's story had to be told again. "I don't know where we shall go after we leave here," said the young sailor. "Are you going back to Liao-Yang?" "We don't know that either. Our orders are to escort the powder train wherever it may be sent," said Ben. For two days the Japanese warship remained in the harbor of the seaport village and during that time Larry managed to see quite a good deal of Ben and Gilbert. He wished he could take them on board of the cruiser, but this was not permitted. On the third day the _Shohirika_ received orders from a dispatch boat which steamed into the harbor, and an hour later the anchors were hove apeak and she steamed away, carrying Larry and his old Yankee friend along. Ben and Gilbert stood on a dock watching her departure. They waved their handkerchiefs at Larry and he waved his own in return. "I wonder when I'll see Larry again," mused Ben. He felt rather sober at the parting from his younger brother. "Oh, you'll see him again before long," answered Gilbert, trying to be cheerful. "Maybe not. It all depends upon where that cruiser sails to. She may go half around the world." "More than likely she has been sent to take part in the bombardment of Port Arthur." "Do you really think we'll be sent to Port Arthur, Gilbert?" "It is not unlikely, Ben." The pair watched the cruiser fade away in the distance, and then returned to that part of the village in which Major Okopa's command had been located. "By the way," said Gilbert, as they hurried along. "There is one thing I forgot to tell you. Meeting Larry drove it completely out of my mind. On the way to this village we stopped at a place called Wikelipe, and there I met, whom do you suppose?" "I don't know, I'm sure." "That rascal Ivan Snokoff. He was at his same old tricks--selling things to the inhabitants at exorbitant prices. When he saw me he shook his fist at me and my men and then ran away and hid." "Why didn't you root him out, Gilbert?" "What good would it have done? Besides, I didn't have time. The fight with the brigands made us lose three hours. But do you know, I think Snokoff has it in for me." "Yes, and in for me, too," added Ben. "He hasn't forgotten how I brought along the guard that placed him under temporary arrest." There was no time to say more, for the command was to move in half an hour and both of the young captains had to round up their men for that purpose. The powder train was at rest outside of the village and the men were scattered here, there, and everywhere. Evening found the command to which Ben and Gilbert belonged ten miles on their way through the mountains. Only the officer in charge of the powder train knew the destination of the precious stores. The train consisted of eighteen carts, each pulled by four horses. Although none in Major Okopa's command knew it, the train was followed by a Chinaman named Kee Lung, who lived in Wikelipe, the place where Gilbert had seen Ivan Snokoff. Kee Lung was well known to Ivan Snokoff and had been asked by the rascally Russian to keep his eyes on Gilbert and on Ben and to report their movements. He had watched Gilbert's meeting with Ben and Larry and heard something of what was said and had thus managed to make out that two of the party were brothers. As the powder train approached Wikelipe, Kee Lung went ahead to find Ivan Snokoff. This was not difficult, as he knew exactly where the latter was hiding. A conference lasting an hour ensued. "Do as you have promised and you shall have fifty _yen_," said Ivan Snokoff. "You will not fail to pay?" queried Kee Lung. "By the heads of my ancestors I promise it," was the rascally Russian's answer. "'Tis enough. I shall do as I have promised," returned the Chinaman. And he bowed himself from Ivan Snokoff's presence. Left to himself, the rascally Russian rubbed his hands gleefully. "Ha, I trust he is successful!" he muttered to himself. "Once Pennington and Russell are in the power of us Russians I shall show them what it means to insult and degrade a Snokoff!" CHAPTER XXIII THE ATTACK IN THE DARK Two days later Gilbert and Ben were seated in their tent talking about the meeting with Larry when one of the guards came in and saluted. "A messenger to see Captain Russell and Captain Pennington," said the guard. "Show him in," returned Ben, briefly, thinking it was a simple message about camp duties. He was rather surprised when a Chinaman entered, bowing low as he did so. "Dis Clabtain Lussell?" asked the newcomer. "That is my name." "Dis Clabtain Plennington?" "Yes," answered Gilbert. "Sailor man send Chung Wow," went on the Chinaman. "Sailor man want see bloth." He pointed to the two young captains. "Sailor man say he blother you." And now he pointed at Ben alone. "Said he was my brother?" cried the young captain. The messenger nodded. "Name allee same Larry Lussell." "Gracious me!" ejaculated Ben. "Gilbert, what can this mean? I thought Larry sailed away on that warship." "So did I. But she may be back in port." "Sailor man hurt." The Chinaman pointed to his side. "Sick--he shot--say you clome to-night." "Sick? shot?" repeated Ben, and a cold chill went down his backbone. "That is the worst yet. Where is he?" "Big walk down by the sea. Chung Wow show. But must pay--Chung Wow poor people." "Oh, I'll pay you," answered Ben, hurriedly. "Gilbert, do you think I can get away?" "Sailor man say bloth clome," put in the messenger. "Something is wrong, that is certain," came from Gilbert. He eyed the Chinaman closely. "There is no mistake about this?" At this Chung Wow shrugged his lean shoulders and looked blank. "No see mistakee. See sailor mans." "I guess he is all right," put in Ben. "Something has happened to poor Larry. I wonder if I can get away at once?" "Let us see the major about this." Ben hurried off and caught Major Okopa in his own tent. As the command was not to move until noon of the next day both readily obtained permission to absent themselves until that time. "But be careful," said the major. "This may be some Chinese trick." "We'll be on our guard," answered Ben. The Chinese messenger had come in on foot. He said he was hungry and was given something to eat. Then the three set off, the messenger carrying a knapsack filled with rations, and each of the young captains carrying his sword and his pistol. They tried to learn from Chung Wow how far they would have to travel, but the Chinaman either could not or would not inform them. "Perhaps it might have been as well to have taken a detachment of one company along," suggested Gilbert. "I must say, I don't like the looks of this." They were now a good mile away from camp, and in a location that appeared lonely enough. "Well, we are moving down to the seacoast," returned Ben. He was taking careful note of the direction they were pursuing. After that they journeyed along for a good two hours without saying much. They stepped along briskly, for Ben wanted to learn just what had happened to his brother. For all he knew to the contrary, Larry might be mortally wounded. Presently they came to a spot in the road where there were a number of dense trees. Chung Wow began to cough loudly. "What's the matter?" demanded Gilbert. For some reason he did not trust the Chinaman. "Slomthing fly in float," was the answer, and Chung Wow coughed again. Then he walked on, and they came behind him. But Gilbert drew his pistol and motioned for Ben to do the same. "I may be mistaken, but we may be walking into a trap," he whispered. "Why, Gilbert, I don't----" began Ben, when without warning a heavy object dropped upon his head from the limb of one of the trees and bore him to the ground. Another object dropped on Gilbert, but he squirmed from under,--to find himself confronted by several Chunchuses. A cry went up, and a crashing was heard in the bushes back of the trees. "A trick, Ben, just as I suspected!" ejaculated the young Southerner, and he discharged his pistol point-blank at the Chinese bandit in front of him. This done he made a leap to one side, hurling over Chung Wow as he did so, and darted forward into some bushes. A shot was aimed at him, but did no injury, and he kept on, running as hard as he could. In the meantime Ben did his best to get up. But one man was on his shoulders and another had him by the legs, so to move was next to impossible. Then, as he continued to struggle, he received a heavy kick from a wooden shoe which stretched him out like a log. "He is out of the fight now," said one of the Chunchuses, as he bent over Ben. "Go after the other. Do not let him escape if you can help it. Americans are worth a good deal to us in these days!" Three of the brigands remained to guard Ben and the others made after Gilbert. But they could not catch the young Southerner, and after a long chase they came back. "He has gone back to his camp," said one of the Chunchuses to his chief. "He will have his friends about our ears very shortly." As soon as this news was received, Ben's hands and feet were bound, and four of the Chinamen caught him up as if he were a dead animal and hoisted him on their shoulders. Off they set at a dog-trot, with the remaining brigands around them. It was the jogging over the rough mountainous road which finally brought the young captain to his senses. At first he did not realize that he was on the move. "Gilbert!" he called faintly. "Gilbert!" Nobody answered him, and now he essayed to sit up. He could not budge and consequently began to struggle. "Be still!" cried one of the Chunchuses, in Chinese. "Where am I? What are you doing to me?" queried Ben. For answer he received a good shaking and was then dumped on the ground. His feet were liberated, and the chief of the Chinese brigands ordered him to move along, pointing the end of his sword at the prisoner as he did so. "Where is my friend?" asked Ben. "He is dead," said the chief, laconically. "Dead!" burst out the young captain. His heart seemed to become like a lump of lead. Gilbert, his own true chum, dead! It was too horrible to believe. "Yes, and you will be unless you walk on," added the chief of the Chunchuses. There was no help for it, and, bruised and bleeding, the young captain took up the march, with his enemies on all sides of him. The gait was a rapid one, and before they came to a halt once more he was all but exhausted. "Where are you taking me?" he asked. "Wait and see." The chief of the Chunchuses grinned wickedly. "I shall have to trouble you for your valuables," he went on, in his native tongue, and without further ado stripped Ben of his possessions, including his watch, money, ring, and sword. There was no use protesting, and therefore the young captain did not attempt it. He was marched along a marshy path, and presently came in sight of the ocean and a small bay, where two sailing ships and a small steamer lay at anchor. A shrill whistle sounded out, and this was answered by somebody on the steamer. Then a small boat put in to shore, carrying four sailors and an officer. As soon as the officer landed, he was called aside by the chief of the Chunchuses, and a conference lasting several minutes followed. "It shall be as you say, Ching Fee," said the officer, in Russian. "It is too bad you did not get the other, too. I know Ivan Snokoff, and Captain Barusky too, and there will be money in this. Yes, I'll take him on board at once. You had better watch out that the soldiers do not get after you." "Trust Ching Fee to take care of himself," said the chief of the Chunchuses. With scant ceremony Ben was conducted to the small boat and told to get in. He asked where they were going to take him, but could get no satisfaction. As soon as the steamer was reached, he was conducted to an empty stateroom and locked in. "This is the worst yet!" he muttered, as he sat down. "I suppose they intend to carry me miles and miles away. Poor Gilbert! I never thought he would be killed in such a fashion as this! What cutthroats these Chinese brigands are! It's a wonder they didn't kill me too! Can that story about Larry be true?" There was a little water in the stateroom, and as his hands had been released, Ben bathed his wounds and bound them up as best he could. He heard the steamer move away from the shore, and soon the steady pounding of the engines proved that she was forging ahead at her best rate of speed. He was a prisoner of the enemy, and what they were going to do with him was a question still to be answered. CHAPTER XXIV THE DEFENSE OF THE POWDER TRAIN After firing on the Chinese brigands as already described, Gilbert plunged into the brushwood which was not over half a dozen yards distant. He heard the shots discharged at him in return, but fortunately every one went wide of its mark. Once in the brushwood he did not stop, but continued on his way for several rods. Then he paused, wondering if Ben was anywhere in the vicinity. "I hope they didn't kill him," he murmured. "What a trap that was, and how easily we walked into it!" He waited and listened, but nobody came near him. Then, with caution, he pushed ahead, until he gained once more the road leading back to the temporary camp occupied by the powder train and the detachment guarding it. Following this, he ran on at full speed until the welcome camp-fires greeted him. "Major Okopa, we have been attacked by Chunchuses!" he exclaimed, as he rushed up to the officer's quarters. And in a brief manner he explained the situation so far as he knew it. The Japanese major had taken a strong liking to Gilbert and Ben, and he lost no time in ordering out a company to round up the Chinese brigands if they could be located. It was Gilbert's own command and he was given permission to remain out the whole night and the next day if necessary. The young Southerner went at the task with vigor, for he realized that every moment was precious. He explained the situation to his men, and they set off at double-quick to where the attack had been made. As was to be expected, the spot was deserted. By torchlight they saw the evidences of the struggle which had taken place. In one spot was a pool of blood, left by the brigand whom Gilbert had shot in the shoulder. "They went off in this direction," said one of the soldiers, who was good at tracing footsteps. He pointed to a side road, and along this they ran, keeping eyes and ears on the alert, so as to avoid anything in the nature of a surprise. Two hours later the company found itself on the seashore. But Chunchuses and vessels were gone and to where it was impossible to find out. But on the beach Gilbert picked up an empty pocketbook which he knew was Ben's property. "They brought him here most likely," he said. "See, here are the marks of a rowboat, and of many feet. They have gone off on the water." "Then the hunt is at a standstill," returned his second in command. The young captain was unwilling to believe this, and the remainder of the night, and the next forenoon, were spent in an eager search after the enemy. But it was useless; and at last Gilbert, sick at heart, ordered his men to return to the camp. On the following day the powder train moved onward once more. The first lieutenant of Ben's company took command of the body, and Ben was marked "missing" on the roll. "It is certainly too bad, and I sympathize with you, Captain Pennington," said Major Okopa. "Captain Russell is a fine fellow." "It takes all the vigor out of me," replied Gilbert. "Ben and I were like two brothers." But Gilbert was given no time in which to grieve over Ben's disappearance. Two days later, the powder train was attacked by a detachment of the Russians, who seemed to spring out of the very ground. One of the wagons loaded with powder was blown to atoms, killing two horses and three soldiers. "_Banzai!_" cried the Japanese, and when the order was given they attacked the enemy with vigor. It was a hot fight, lasting half an hour, and the Russians were driven among some high hills, backed up by several mountains. As the powder train had to go through one of the mountain passes so close at hand, the soldiers were sent ahead, to clear the way of all Russians that might appear. This was dangerous work, for the enemy had the advantage of the higher position. But the Japanese were undaunted, and rushed up one slope after another with a vigor and animation that was surprising. "Can't hold them back, when once they get started," said Gilbert, to the major. "They are like our Southern bloodhounds, when once they strike the scent." "And that is the way to win victory," answered Major Okopa. Not long after this Gilbert found himself at the foot of a steep hill with his company. At the top of the hill were a number of great bowlders and behind these some of the Russians were in hiding, sending down a spiteful fire whenever the opportunity presented itself. "We must dislodge those fellows," said Major Okopa. "It is very dangerous work. Do you think you can accomplish it, Captain Pennington?" "I can try," answered Gilbert, modestly, and ordered his company forward. He turned them slightly to the left, for here a fringe of thin brushwood offered a shelter that was not great, but much better than none. "Major Okopa expects us to take this hill," he said, in the best Japanese he could muster. "Let us do our best!" "_Banzai!_" came the rallying cry from the men, and up the slope they rushed, with Gilbert at their side. Crack! crack! went the rifles of the Russians, and then, without warning, several shells were sent up. One man of Gilbert's company was killed and two wounded, but they did not waver. Passing the brushwood, they ran out boldly on the slope above them. Many of the rocks at the top of the hill were loose, and as the Japanese came closer, the enemy began to send them down in a shower which was highly dangerous to those below. "Beware of the stones!" cried Gilbert. He had hardly spoken when he saw that he would have to look after his own safety. The Russians were working over a rock that weighed several hundreds of pounds. All at once the mass broke loose. There was a yell of delight from above, and then the big bowlder came rolling straight for Gilbert. Had it touched him he must surely have been crushed to death. But the young Southerner was as cool as he was quick. Pausing to make certain which way the big stone was coming down, he made a quick leap in the opposite direction. Then the bowlder went bounding past him, to crash into some small trees at the bottom of the hill. "Are you hurt, captain?" asked his lieutenant. "No," answered Gilbert. Then he leaped to the front once more. "Come!" he cried. "_Banzai!_ Forward for the Mikado!" And on the whole company went as before, firing rapidly as they did so. The Russians clung to the hilltop a few minutes longer, and then, as the first of the Japanese gained a footing there, they broke and fled in wild disorder down the other side of the hill, and into the woods to the northward. The Japanese pursued them for two hours but could not catch them, and at last the chase was abandoned. In this skirmish, called the battle of Po-yang-ling, the Japanese lost in killed and wounded four men, and the Russians seven. Three of the Czar's soldiers were also taken prisoners. After that the powder train had no more difficulty, and four days later reached its destination, which was the village of Fanshen, where the Japanese had established something of a base of supplies for that portion of the army which was moving southward to join in the siege of Port Arthur. At Fanshen, Major Okopa's command received orders to go into camp instead of returning to the vicinity of Liao-Yang. "This looks to me as if we were to be transferred to the army in the south," said the major, after communicating the news to Gilbert. "Well, I shouldn't mind helping to take Port Arthur," returned the young Southerner. "If you will remember, it was my treatment by the Russians at that place which caused me to take up arms against them." "So you said before, Captain Pennington. But do not imagine that the taking of Port Arthur will be easy. The Russians have fortified it in every possible manner." "Yes,--they were doing that before I came away from there." "For months they have been strengthening their fortifications, and getting in ammunition and supplies in secret. Their chain of forts extend, so I have been told, for twenty miles and more outside of the city, and being in a mountainous country, they will be hard to reduce." "Don't you think we can capture the place?" demanded Gilbert. "Capture it? Most assuredly, captain. But it will mean a great destruction of life," returned Major Okopa, gravely. What the major said about the Russians fortifying Port Arthur was true. Lieutenant-General Stoessel, the Russian commander at that place, had under him sixty thousand men, the very flower of the Russian army. On the side of the sea the town was fortified at a dozen points, only three of which had been thus far captured under the Japanese army led by General Nogi. To the northward and the westward were some twenty defenses, set among the mountains where they were next to impossible to reach. In a work of this kind, it is impossible to relate in detail all of the many battles fought over the possession of Port Arthur. The first assault was made in February by Admiral Togo's fleet, and the naval conflict was kept up for almost three months after that. In the meantime a Japanese army under General Oku landed at Pitsewo, and after several battles at Kinchow and Nanshan Hill, drove the Russians back to their mountain defenses and took possession of the railroad running to Liao-Yang and Mukden. Thus Port Arthur was cut off from almost all communication with the outside world. CHAPTER XXV BOMBARDING A PORT ARTHUR FORT Larry felt very happy after having met Ben and Gilbert. He had been afraid he should find that his brother or his friend was wounded, even though no mention of such an occurrence had been made in the letter he had received. He knew from experience that Ben was in the habit of making light of things that went wrong. "I suppose it did your heart good to meet 'em both," said Luke, after the warship was on the way. "You're right, Luke; it was a regular touch of old times." "Wish I had seen 'em myself." "Both wanted to be remembered to you." Larry paused for a moment. "By the way, I wonder where we are bound now?" "Can't say as to that, lad--secret orders, I reckon," answered the old tar. The order to sail was evidently an important one, for scarcely was the _Shohirika_ out of sight of land than all steam was crowded on. The lookouts were also doubled, and when night came the strictest watch possible was maintained. Yet, with it all, several days passed without anything out of the ordinary happening. Drills and exercises went on as before, and both Larry and Luke made themselves familiar with all parts of the warship. Both spent much time in familiarizing themselves with such orders as were given to them in Japanese, so that they might not be too "green," as Larry termed it, if put to the test. During those days spent on shipboard matters concerning the great war were moving forward steadily. In the vicinity of Liao-Yang both the Japanese and the Russians made several movements to better their positions. This brought on a few skirmishes and one heavy battle, in which the losses were several hundreds on each side. There was also an advance on the outer forts of Port Arthur, and a fair-sized hill was captured by the Mikado's men, who, however held the place only at an enormous loss of life. In moving on the port the Japanese found they would have to do a great amount of tunneling and entrenching, all of which consumed time. On the ocean the two nations were equally active. Both took several prizes of war, and in an encounter with the Vladivostok squadron a Russian warship was hopelessly disabled and a Japanese cruiser was all but sunk. Another ship belonging to Admiral Togo's fleet struck a mine outside of Port Arthur and had to be sent back to Japan for repairs. So far the weather had been warm, but autumn was now at hand and before long the nights became cold and raw. "This war won't be finished this winter," said more than one. "We are in for another year of it, sure." The _Shohirika_ had been summoned to join the fleet patrolling before Port Arthur. Two days before that station was reached they fell in with a sister ship which brought the news of an encounter with a Russian battleship carrying some troops from Siberia. Both warships had suffered and become separated in the darkness. "This war is certainly warming up," said Larry. "I hope we see some fighting before it is over." "Maybe we'll see more of it than you wish," said Luke, grimly. "Don't you worry--we'll see a whole lot," put in Steve Colton, who was sitting on a ditty chest, playing checkers with Bob Stanford. "Just wait till we get under Admiral Togo's eye--he'll make us be up and doing." The chance to see some of the war came the next day, when they were ordered to bombard one of the forts to the north of Port Arthur proper. As soon as they came within four miles of the fort they received a reception which was as warm as it was exciting. "Now, here is where we show what we can do!" cried Luke, as the orders came to begin firing, and the whole gun company jumped in to assist him. The magazines were opened up, the windlasses set to work, and soon the first real shell--not a mere blank for practicing--came up and was run into the gun. Then the breech-block was swung to and locked, the electric connection set, and Luke sighted the piece with care, after having first received the proper distance from the range-finders in the tops. As soon as the "sight" was "covered" the button was pressed, and _bang!_ went the gun with a concussion that shook the whole ship. Other guns followed in rapid succession, until Larry had to stuff cotton in his ears to keep himself from becoming deaf. As soon as the gun was discharged, it was opened to let the gases out and then cleaned with wet swabs and flushed with running water to cool the barrel. The bombardment lasted for an hour, and during that time the fort was hit in a dozen places. Sand, dirt, and rocks flew in all directions, and once there came a flash which told of an explosion of a quantity of powder. "If we could only hit the magazine it would be good-by to that fort," said Larry, but this was not to be. After the first few shots the fort had remained silent, but now, when the _Shohirika_ was about to retire, the gunners opened up once more, and a rain of shot and shell flew all around the warship. One struck the bow of the vessel, tearing off a few feet of the forward deck and another entered the forward turret, killing one of the gunner's assistants. "We can be thankful we weren't in that turret," said Luke, when he received the latter news. "Yes, indeed!" murmured Larry, and could not repress a shiver. "I can tell you, it's mighty risky work after all!" he added, soberly. "Well, we've got one advantage over those fellows," put in Colton, after the firing had come to an end, and the warship was fast getting out of range. "We can run away, while they have got to stay right where they are." "Oh, they can run away too," said Larry. "Not unless they abandon their fort,--and that would be just as if we should abandon our ship." The work at the gun had been severe, and after the bombardment was over Larry was glad to clean up and take a rest. The perspiration, grime, and smoke had made him look like a negro, and he used up several buckets of water before he got himself into as cleanly a condition as was habitual with him. Luke also took a "scrubbing down," as he called it, and so did the others. What amazed Larry more than anything was the quietness of the Japanese sailors. Now that the bombardment was ended they said scarcely a word about it, but went on exactly as before. "They are the most matter-of-fact chaps I ever saw!" he declared. "I believe if the ship blew up they would say 'Very sorry' and swim away. Now on one of Uncle Sam's ships the men would be all woke up and out for a jollification. Ben says it's the same way in the army. If they get excited at all they always seem to be sorry for it afterwards!" "That's what ye call a characteristic o' the race, I reckon," returned Luke. "They're taught to act that way from babyhood. It ain't polite nor high-toned to git excited. The only thing they kin yell is _Banzai!_ an' they let thet out loud enough, goodness knows!" "I can't understand why we didn't keep at that fort," came from Colton. "I was just getting the range beautifully when orders came to shut down." "Well, there must be a reason for it, Steve," answered Luke. There was a reason for it. Admiral Togo had just received word that certain ships of the Port Arthur squadron were going to make an attempt to break out of the harbor, either that night or the next day. Consequently the _Shohirika_ was needed further down the coast, and steamed away in that direction as rapidly as her somewhat limited supply of coal permitted. "I don't think the navy will ever find its way into Port Arthur harbor," said Larry, later on, after studying a map of that locality. "There are too many forts on the hills outside of the town. They could smash our ships to smithereens if we got too close." "Trust Admiral Togo to know what he is doing," answered Steve Colton. "He won't go too close. At the same time he ain't going to let the Russian ships get away any more than Schley and Sampson let Admiral Cervera get away from Santiago Harbor in Cuba." "It's the army that will make Port Arthur a hot place to live in," came from Bob Stanford. "They can entrench and thus gain a little ground day by day, and as soon as they win some high point, like say 203-Meter Hill, it will be all up with General Stoessel, mark my words." The night to follow proved to be misty, and so cold that the majority of the sailors were glad to don their heavy peajackets. Fearing that the enemy would try to take advantage of the weather, Admiral Togo turned on all the searchlights his fleet possessed, and these were flashed in all directions. "False alarm," said Luke, after midnight had sounded out on the ship's bell. "Reckon the Russians don't dare to come out." But the old Yankee tar was mistaken. The enemy were on the alert, and at three o'clock, when the mist was extra heavy, the movement to steal out of Port Arthur harbor was begun, two torpedo destroyers taking the lead, and several cruisers following. This brought on a heavy sea-fight lasting far into the next day, and one which came close to cost Larry his life. CHAPTER XXVI BEN MEETS CAPTAIN BARUSKY For several days poor Ben remained a prisoner aboard of the small steamer. During that time only two men came near him--an under officer and the sailor who supplied him with food and water. Neither would answer his questions, so he could not learn where he was being taken or what was to be done with him. One evening there was a slight commotion on the deck, and the course of the steamer was changed. Then came a blowing of steam whistles lasting several minutes. Finally the steamer came to a standstill. "You are to leave this vessel at once," said the under officer, as he opened the door of the young captain's temporary prison. "Come, we have no time to spare." "Where am I to go?" questioned Ben. "You will soon learn. Hurry!" There was no help for it, and soon Ben was on deck. He was made to enter a small boat and was thus transferred to another steamer--one which had formerly been in the East Indian trade but which was now acting as a Russian supply boat. "What a dirty craft!" was his mental comment, after having been thrust into a pen which was little better than a horse stall. The supply boat was loaded to its fullest capacity, so quarters for all on board were limited. Two days passed and he received food which was scarcely fit to eat. When he protested he was threatened with a flogging. The air was foul and he began to fear that he would become sick. "I won't be able to stand this much longer," he thought, dismally. "If they want to kill me why don't they do it at once and have done with it?" On the following morning a surprise awaited him. He heard two Russian officers pause in front of his pen and one said to the other: "Here is the prisoner, Captain Barusky." "Is it the fellow named Russell?" was the question from Captain Barusky, the rascal who had aided Ivan Snokoff to make so much trouble for Gilbert Pennington. "The same." "They did not capture his friend?" "No--in the struggle he slipped away." "I am sorry for that. We wanted Pennington more than we did this fellow. But I am glad we got at least one of them. As I understand it they work hand-in-glove with each other;" and then the two Russian officers passed on. Like a flash Ben realized the truth of the situation. His taking off had been a trap set by Snokoff and this Captain Barusky, who had hired the Chunchuses to help work out their plot. He was now in the hands of the enemy in more ways than one. "They won't treat me as an ordinary prisoner," he reasoned. "This Captain Barusky will make it as hard as possible for me--more especially so as Gilbert managed to escape his clutches. Well, I am glad Gilbert got away." Resolved to "take the bull by the horns," Ben asked the prison guard if he might speak to Captain Barusky. "I will see about it," answered the sailor, and went off to find out. On his return he stated that the captain would visit the pen some time during the day. The Russian officer came late in the afternoon, when nobody else was near the pen. There was a sarcastic look on his face when he gazed at the young captain. "So you want to talk to me," he said, abruptly. "I do, Captain Barusky. I want to know why this plot was laid against me." "I know of no plot. You are an American in the employ of the Japanese Government as a spy. Russia captures all the Japanese spies she can." "I am no spy." The Russian shrugged his shoulders. "That is what your friend, Captain Pennington, once told me, too. Yet as soon as he got out of Port Arthur he was made a captain in the Mikado's army." "He applied for the position because the Russians had mistreated him and because he loves active service." "Have it as you please, Russell; both of you are spies, and you will have to suffer as one." "Where are you taking me?" "Since you seem so anxious to know, I will tell you, for I do not think you will be able to take the news to the Japanese. This boat is carrying supplies to Port Arthur." "Port Arthur!" "That is what I said. When we arrive there you will be placed in one of the strongest of our prisons at the port. Do you not admire the prospect?" "Well, if you take me to Port Arthur, perhaps I shan't be a prisoner long," replied Ben, resolved to put on as bold a front as possible. "And why not?" demanded Captain Barusky, curiously. "Because our army and our navy are bound to capture the place." "Bah! The Japanese will never take Port Arthur. It is absurd to think of it." "It may not come right away--but it will come sooner or later." "Never! But if it should, you will not be there to enjoy our downfall. Remember that spies are tried, and if found guilty they are taken out and shot." "You cannot prove that I am a spy." "That remains to be seen." "If you bring me before the court I'll have something to say about your underhanded work with Ivan Snokoff. I can prove that he is a swindler and that you are his accomplice." "Ha! you threaten me!" roared Captain Barusky, in a rage. "Have a care! I come from a most respectable family and I have great influence." "Nevertheless, I think those who are higher in authority than yourself will listen to my story. The Russian army officers are as a rule gentlemen and strictly honest." "Which means to say that I am not a gentleman and not honest!" bellowed Captain Barusky. "That, for your opinion!" And reaching out he gave Ben a ringing box on the ear. It was the last straw. With no fresh air and no food fit to eat, the young captain was desperate, and leaping forward he struck at the Russian captain's nose. His fist went true, and as Barusky staggered back against the pen door the blood spurted from his nasal organ. "Don't you dare to hit me again!" panted Ben, standing before the Russian with both hands clenched. "Don't you dare--or you'll get the worst of it!" His manner made Captain Barusky cower back, and he glared at Ben with the ferocity of a wild beast. Then he called to the guard. "Run for aid, Petrovitch," he said. "The prisoner has attacked me. He is a beast, and must be chained up." The man addressed summoned three other sailors and the captain of the ship's guard. All came into the pen and forced Ben into a corner. "The Yankee dog!" said the captain of the guard. "To dare to strike a Russian officer! Bring the chains at once!" Chains were brought, and soon Ben was bound hands and feet, with links that weighed several pounds. Then a large staple was driven into one of the uprights of the pen and he was fastened to this with a padlock. "Now place him on half-rations," said Captain Barusky. "It is the only way to tame him." And then he hurried away to bathe his nose, which was swelling rapidly. If Ben had been miserable before he was doubly so now. The chains were cumbersome and cut into his flesh, and being fastened to the upright he could scarcely move a foot either way. To add to his misery the front of the pen was boarded over, so that what little light had been admitted to his prison was cut off. In this wretched condition he passed a full week. In that time Captain Barusky came to peep in at him three times, and on each occasion tried to say something to make him still more dispirited. The food was so bad he could not eat and the air often made his head ache as if it would crack open. "If this is a sample of Russian prison life it's a wonder all the prisoners don't go mad," he reasoned. "A few months of this would surely kill me." At the end of the week Ben heard firing at a distance. The supply boat was now trying to steal into Port Arthur and had been discovered by a Japanese patrol boat. The craft was struck twice and the prisoner below heard a wild commotion on the deck, as one of the funnels was carried away. But darkness favored the Russians, and inside of two hours the supply boat passed into Port Arthur harbor without sustaining further damage. She was then directed to a proper anchorage by the harbor master; and on the following day the transfer of her cargo to the storehouses on shore was begun. For several days longer Ben was kept on the boat. Then, one wet and cold morning, he was liberated and told to march on deck. From the vessel he was taken to a big stone building which was being used as one of the garrison quarters. Here he was given a scant hearing in the presence of Captain Barusky, who appeared against him. "We have no time to investigate your case at present, Captain Russell," said the officer who conducted the examination. "But from reports I should surmise that you are a dangerous young man. You must remain a prisoner." And then the young captain was taken away. Later on, he was marched a distance of half a mile and blindfolded. When the bandage was removed from his eyes, he found himself in an old stone building, dirty and neglected. He was taken to a small room, having a grated window, and thrust inside. Six other prisoners were put into the apartment with him, one man with a hacking cough, dreadful to hear. The door was closed and barred; and all were left to take care of themselves as best they could. CHAPTER XXVII A FIERCE BATTLE AT SEA Larry was taking a nap when the call came to clear the ship for action. It had been discovered that the Russian fleet was trying to escape from Port Arthur harbor, and the news was flashed from vessel to vessel of Admiral Togo's fleet, and all were ordered to prevent the movement at any cost. "Now I reckon we are in fer it!" ejaculated Luke, as he and the youth rushed over to their gun. "Larry, it's in my mind we have some tall work cut out fer us this trip!" "Let it come--I am in just the humor for fighting!" cried Larry. "I hope we can smash them just as we smashed the Spanish ships in Manila Bay." Sailors and gunners were hurrying in all directions, and orders were coming in rapid succession. At first the Russian ships had turned in one direction, now they were turning in another, and, later still, they separated. A distant firing could already be heard, but where it came from those on the _Shohirika_ could not tell. So far no ships of the enemy could be seen with the naked eye. The lookouts kept a close watch, and the flashlights continued to play all over the bosom of the rolling sea. It was almost daylight when a distant explosion was heard. A Russian torpedo boat had run into a mine and was so badly damaged that she sank inside of ten minutes, carrying a large part of her crew with her. This disaster proved a warning to the other Russian ships and they proceeded on their courses with added caution. The Japanese warships were equally on the alert, yet, just as the sun came up, one brushed against a mine and received such damage that she was practically put out of the contest. "There is one of the enemy's ships!" was the cry, as the mist swept away as if by magic and the sun came out strongly. "Now is our chance. _Banzai!_" "And there is another ship!" came a moment later, "and one of our own pounding her as if she was a witch!" Guns were now booming over the water constantly, and from the forts on shore came shots and shells in rapid succession. Soon the _Shohirika_ was in the midst of the battle, and then Luke and Larry worked over the gun as never before, doing their full share towards disabling the ship that was trying to escape up the Manchurian coast. For over an hour the running fire kept up. Neither ship dared to put on full speed, for fear of running into a mine. Solid shot was hurled in all directions, and the _Shohirika_ received one below the water line which for the moment looked as if it might sink the craft. But the ship's carpenter and his crew got at the leak immediately, driving in a wedge which quickly stopped the flow of water. It was hard, exhausting work between decks, and at the end of an hour Larry felt he must have some fresh air. Both he and Luke applied for permission to go on deck, and this permission was readily granted, for the guns on their side of the warship were not then in use. On the deck of the _Shohirika_ they could see what this battle really meant. Dirt and debris were to be seen in many places, and half a dozen sailors and marines had been killed or wounded. Everybody was bathed in perspiration and grime, and some of those who worked the big guns were panting like dogs after a chase. "It's work, that's what it is," said Luke, running the perspiration from his begrimed forehead with his finger. "Ain't no child's play about it!" "And dangerous work at that," added Larry. He gave a look toward the enemy's ships. "I declare, Luke, I believe they are running back to Port Arthur harbor!" "I think the same, lad," responded the Yankee gunner. "Reckon they are findin' it is goin' to cost too much to get away. As soon as they get away from them land batteries we can pound 'em for keeps and they know it." "And get away from the mines. That's the worst with fighting around here--you don't know how soon you'll hit a mine and be blown up." "Oh, I reckon our captain is watching out fer them pesky things." Larry was interested in watching the sharpshooters and range-finders in the tops, and he walked across the deck to get a better look at them. Luke followed, and as he did so, one of the nearest of the Russian ships sent out a roaring broadside at the _Shohirika_ which raked her fore and aft and sent another hole through her side, but this time above the water line where it did scant damage. "Gee Christopher!" began Luke, when he chanced to glance upward. "Larry, look out!" he screamed. "The top's coming down on ye!" Luke was right. One of the shots from the enemy had struck the foremast, above the fighting top, and it was crashing down, carrying a portion of the ship's flag with it. One end struck the gun turret, and then the wreckage hit Larry on the shoulder, hurling him on his back. The foremast was heavy and had it struck the youth before landing on the turret and the surrounding works it might have killed the young gunner's mate on the spot. As it was, Larry lay like a log where he had fallen and when Luke raised him up the old tar found him unconscious. "If he ain't got his shoulder broke then I miss my guess," muttered the Yankee gunner. "Larry! Larry! Can't ye speak to me?" "That was a nasty one," came from one of the officers of the deck. "Better carry him below." And then the officer gave orders to remove the wreckage and hoist the flag once more. With the unconscious youth in his arms, Luke hurried below and to the sick bay of the warship. Here the surgeon got to work immediately and examined Larry thoroughly. "No bones broken," he announced. "But the bruise is severe and he is suffering from shock. He will soon come to his senses." Luke had to return to his gun, for duty is duty in the navy, regardless of what is happening around one. It was true, the Russian warships were now doing their best to sneak back into Port Arthur harbor and Admiral Togo wanted to do all the damage possible before the forts made it impossible to follow them further. All of the warships' guns were worked to their utmost, and when the Russian vessels did get back they were so badly crippled that they were of small consequence for future fighting until undergoing repairs. When Larry opened his eyes again he found himself lying on a clean white cot in the ship's hospital with an attendant standing over him bathing his face. "Oh!" he murmured and stared around him. "Oh, my shoulder! That was a fearful crack I got!" The attendant did not understand, but smiled blandly and continued to bathe his face and also his head. Soon the full realization of what had happened came to the young gunner's mate. Then he asked about Luke. The fighting was at an end and presently Luke came to him, to find Larry sitting up in a chair. "I feel stiff and sore all over, Luke," said the youth. "It was just as if a house came down on me." "Thank fortune you wasn't killed, or didn't have your bones broken," returned the Yankee gunner. "I am thankful. Were you hurt?" "Not in the least." "What about the fight?" "The Russians have sneaked back into the harbor like a lot of whipped dogs." "What is our ship doing?" "Putting up the coast. I don't know where we are going," answered Luke. Larry remained in the ship's hospital for three days and then resumed his duties as before. His shoulder still felt stiff and sore and lifting anything was a good deal of labor. But Luke favored him, so he got along very well. A week passed and the _Shohirika_ remained at sea, moving in a wide circle, on the lookout for Russian warships or supply boats. But none were encountered, and then the cruiser was ordered to escort a transport filled with soldiers bound for the front. The transport landed at a point some miles north of Dalny and the troops went ashore without delay. They were bound for the railroad, and were to participate in the advance upon Port Arthur from that point. As the warship remained in the harbor several days, both Luke and Larry were allowed a short run on shore. They enjoyed this trip very much, until, much to their surprise, they learned that Major Okopa's command was in the vicinity. Then they hunted this up, to learn the sad news from Gilbert that Ben was missing. "Missing!" ejaculated Larry, in horror. "Taken by Chunchuses! Oh, Gilbert, this is dreadful!" "Well, I don't know as you feel any worse than I do, Larry," answered Gilbert. "It makes me wild to think of it." "But couldn't you find any trace of him at all?" "Not the slightest, although I think he was carried off in a boat." "But why should the Chinese brigands make him a prisoner?" "I'm sure I don't know, excepting to hold him for a ransom. But if they intended to do that it is likely we should have heard from them before this." The matter was discussed as long as Larry and Luke could remain on shore. But nothing came of it, and with a heavy heart the young gunner's mate returned to his place on the warship. CHAPTER XXVIII THE SIEGE OF PORT ARTHUR After the fruitless effort to escape from Port Arthur harbor the Russian warships "bottled up" there remained where they were for a long time to come. Occasionally one or another attempted to run the blockade, but results were usually disastrous, and at last the risk became so great nothing more was done in that direction. The Japanese continued to put down mines and sank several boats loaded with stone in or near the winding channel, and this made getting in as hard as getting out--thus putting a stop to the arrival of more supply boats, such as brought Ben to the seaport. In the meantime the campaign on land was pushed forward with increased activity. The headquarters of the Japanese army investing Port Arthur was not far from the railroad, but the lines stretched many miles to the east and the west. Troops were hurried both from Japan and from the divisions near Liao-Yang, and heavy siege guns were mounted on every available hilltop. The Japanese were, at the start, at a great disadvantage--they could not see the enemy at which they were firing. Hills and mountains cut them off from every view of the port. But they kept hammering away, day after day, week after week, and month after month, gaining steadily, throwing up new intrenchments, digging new tunnels, and hauling their heavy guns forward to more advantageous positions. The labor was body racking and the sacrifice of life enormous. But the Mikado's soldiers did not appear to care. They had set out to capture Port Arthur and they were going to do it. For the foot-soldiers and for the cavalry there was at the start but little to do in the way of fighting. Most of the time was spent in digging trenches and tunnels, and in keeping out of the way of shells that whistled and screamed in all directions--shells weighing hundreds of pounds, which, when they struck, tore up the ground for yards around and smashed the rocks as if the latter were passing through a quartz crusher. Such is war of modern times, when carried on at a distance of miles. But as the months went by, and Japanese and Russians came closer to each other, hand-to-hand conflicts became numerous. The Russians contested every foot of the ground, fighting with a courage that was truly heroic, and sacrificing themselves freely for the Czar and the country they loved. The hand-to-hand conflicts became bloody in the extreme, thousands upon thousands being slaughtered between the rising and the setting of the sun. From the seacoast the command to which Gilbert was attached moved to a small place called Fugi Klan. Here they went into camp for several weeks and while there were joined by a number of other commands, including that containing those old soldiers of fortune, Dan Casey and Carl Stummer, who had served with Gilbert and Ben in Cuba and in the Philippines. "Py chiminy, of it ton't done mine heart goot to see you, cabtain!" exclaimed Carl Stummer, rushing up and giving Gilbert a handshake. "How you peen, annavay?" "First rate, Stummer. And how are you, Casey?" "Sure an' it's meself is as foine as a fiddle," answered the Irishman, with a broad grin on his freckled face. "It's a great war, ain't it now? Both soides is fightin' like a pair o' Kilkenny cats, so they are! An' where is me ould friend, Captain Russell?" "He was captured by Chunchuses." "No!" came from both Stummer and Casey, and then they poured in a volley of questions which were bewildering. Gilbert answered them as best he could. "Dot's der vorst ding vot I hear yet alretty!" said Carl Stummer, with a sad shake of his head. "I vish I got dem Chunchusers--or vot you call dem--here. I fix 'em, eh, Tan?" Dan Casey nodded vigorously. "Sure an' we'd be after puttin' a ball through ivery mother's son of 'em, so we would! Poor Ben Russell! I loiked him loike a brother!" And the honest Irish sharp-shooter heaved a long sigh. Both Casey and Stummer had been having easy times of it for several weeks, but now they were called upon to go forth with pick and shovel, to do their share of work in digging intrenchments. This was not so nice, but they went at the labor without a murmur. "Sure an' we might as well git into practice," observed Casey, as he started in with vigor. "Whin the war's over an' we git back to the States, it may be ourselves as will be workin' fer the corporation in New York or ilsewhere!" "Yah, udder puttin' town railroad dracks alretty in der Vest," answered Carl Stummer. "Dot is," he added, "of I ton't got money enough to puy a farm." "'Tis a stock farm I'm wantin'," came from Casey. "Wid horses galore. There's money for ye, Carl!" And he went to work with added vigor--as if he expected to turn up the stock farm from the soil beneath him. To Gilbert, even though he occasionally saw Stummer and Casey, the days were very lonely. He missed Ben greatly, and each day wondered if he would ever see his old war chum again. Major Okopa saw this and did what he could to cheer up the young officer. "He may turn up before you realize it," said the major. "I don't think he was killed." "If he is alive, it is very strange that we do not hear from him." Two days later came a batch of letters into camp, written, or rather painted, for the most part, on thin Japanese paper. Among the communications were two for Gilbert, one from Captain Ponsberry concerning the _Columbia_ and her cargo, and the other from a stranger in Pekin, China. "Who can be writing to me from Pekin, China?" mused the young captain, and began to read the communication with interest. It was from a Chinese merchant, and ran in part as follows: "You will be mystified to receive this from an utter stranger, but I deem it my duty, kind sir, to send this word to you. "Know, then, that one Ken Gow, a servant of my family, was in Port Arthur up to sixteen days ago--first a servant in an American family there, and next a prisoner in the vilest prison man ever saw, guarded by dogs of Russians unworthy to be used as door mats. Ken Gow is a faithful man, the flower of all my help. "It is needless to explain to you why my servant was thus ill-treated. But you must know that when in prison he met your great friend Captain Benjamin Russell, and it was the captain who saved Ken Gow from many hard blows from the other prisoners, who wanted not a Chinaman amongst them. "Ken Gow was grateful, even as I am grateful, and he promised to get word to you of this matter if the Russians granted him his liberty. Finding no fault in my servant he was, after a time, liberated, and watching his chance, left Port Arthur and came home. "Kind sir, he is grateful to Captain Russell and would do much for him if he could. Yet his most is to send this letter to you, telling you that Captain Russell is alive and held in a Port Arthur prison as a spy. One Russian hates him--his name, Captain Barusky,--and it would appear that this Russian is also your enemy, so beware of him. "I can tell no more. Ken Gow is sick from his treatment at the hands of the Russian dogs. Accept this miserable assurance of my eternal friendship, and esteem for one I know must be high and illustrious." "CHENG MO." Gilbert read the letter several times and showed it to Major Okopa. It was written in true Chinese style, with a big Chinese seal attached, and was, beyond all doubt, genuine. "I can't understand one thing," said the young captain. "How did Ben get to Port Arthur?" "It may be that this Captain Barusky had him taken there, Captain Pennington." "I thought Captain Barusky was at Mukden." "The Russians have been taking in some troops at Port Arthur on the sly. Despite Admiral Togo's efforts, some supply boats and transports have passed his ships." "If Barusky is there he will do what he can to make Ben miserable. He is down on both of us--for he knows we are down on him and Ivan Snokoff." "Do you think Snokoff could have anything to do with this?" "I'm sure I don't know. Anything is possible. Snokoff would be glad to make trouble for Ben--since he helped me to make him settle up at Liao-Yang. Those Chunchuses tried to capture both of us." The matter was talked over for half an hour, but brought forth no satisfaction. To Gilbert's mind, being held by the Russians as a spy was as bad as being in the hands of the Chinese brigands. "I wish we could get into Port Arthur at once," he said, finally. "I shouldn't like anything better than to capture this Captain Barusky and liberate Ben." "We are bound to get into the port sooner or later," answered Major Okopa. "They are bringing up more siege guns every day. If the Russians won't give up we'll batter the whole town down over their heads." "Which will be a bad thing for Ben," rejoined Gilbert. "I don't want him killed in the attempt to rescue him." CHAPTER XXIX FROM ONE DIFFICULTY TO ANOTHER "Where is this going to end?" It was Ben who asked himself the question, as he walked up and down the narrow cell in which he had been confined in the prison at Port Arthur. What had been written to Gilbert in the letter from Pekin had been substantially correct. Ben had aided Ken Gow in numerous ways, and for this the Chinaman had been extremely grateful and had promised to do all he could for the young captain should he manage to escape from the blockaded seaport. Then Ken Gow had disappeared one night, and that was the last Ben saw of him. Three days later a guard entered the prison and announced that the prisoners were to be transferred to other quarters. With his hands bound behind him, Ben was marched forth through a side street of Port Arthur, where stood an old building which had formerly been used as a market. Cells had been built in this structure, and into one of these he was thrust, the guard sarcastically telling him to make himself as comfortable as possible. The young captain was sick in both body and mind and fast reaching that point where one becomes desperate and fit for any deed of daring. More than once he was tempted to throw himself on the guard in an endeavor to overpower the fellow and escape. But he realized that if caught at this he would be immediately shot down. Day after day passed, and from outside the prisoner heard the dull booming of cannon. Occasionally a shell would explode close to the prison, causing a wild yell of alarm and a general rush by those outside. There were flags over the prisons and over the hospitals, showing what manner of places they were, but, as said before, the Japanese were at a loss to see what they were firing at, so many shots and shells went where they were not intended. These mishaps were what caused the report to circulate that the Mikado's men were not fighting according to the rules of modern warfare, but were doing their best to shatter the hospitals in which lay their own and the Russian wounded. It was a cold, raw day, with a touch of snow in the air, and Ben felt one of his desperate moods coming over him. His hands and feet were free and he peered forth from the one narrow window that the cell contained. All he could see beyond was a courtyard, surrounded by a stone wall. "I wish I was out there--I'd get over that wall somehow!" he muttered to himself. The cell window was not over fifteen or sixteen inches wide and twice that in height. The bars were of iron, but set in wooden frames but a few inches in thickness. "A fellow might smash out those bars with the bench end," he thought. "But after that what? I reckon the guard in the courtyard would shoot me on sight. I might try it at night." Still in a desperate mood, Ben picked up the bench, a solid affair several feet long. He made an imaginary lunge at the window bars with it. "I'll wager I could knock them out with one blow. They----" Ben got no further, for at the moment a fearful explosion sounded somewhere overhead. The explosion was followed by a crash and a wild yell of alarm. A Japanese shell had struck the top of the building, tearing away fully a quarter of the roof and sending the bricks and timbers flying in all directions. "Now is my chance!" he muttered, and without stopping to think twice he rammed the window bars as hard as he could with the bench. A second and third blow followed, and down went the irons, carrying a portion of the window frame with them. Then through the opening leaped the young captain. As he landed in the courtyard, he picked up a small log of wood lying handy. A glance around told him that the guard was nowhere in sight, the Russian having run to the other side of the building to note the damage done by the shell. Log in hand, Ben leaped quickly across the courtyard and placed the bit of wood up against the wall. This gave him a footing, and in a twinkling he was on top of the wall. But though he acted quickly a guard from the prison building saw him and ran forth gun in hand. "Halt!" came the command, in Russian, and then, raising his weapon, the guard fired at Ben. The bullet whistled over the young captain's head, and without looking back to see who had fired it, he dropped on the other side of the wall. Then he sprinted up the street and around a corner. Ben knew not where to go, but his one thought was to put distance between himself and the prison, and he hurried on and on, until he came to a barn which stood open. Into this he darted, to find the building empty of occupants. The Japanese had begun a general bombardment of Port Arthur and shot and shells were flying in all directions. This being the case, the majority of the troops and the inhabitants were out of sight,--hid away in cellars and dugouts. Nobody paid any attention to him and he was thus given ample time in which to think matters over and decide upon his next movement. From the barn Ben moved to the building next door--which was a sort of dwelling and storehouse combined. Here, from the wide open doorway, he gazed at the scene of destruction before him. It was full of horror and made him shiver. "War is certainly a terrible thing," he thought. He saw some people running for their lives, and beheld one man go down struck in the back by a shell. Then he turned away to shut out the sight. In one room of the warehouse he found an old overcoat and a slouch hat, and lost no time in donning these, both as a disguise and to keep himself warm. Then he hunted around for something to eat, but could not find a mouthful. "I might have known there would be no food squandered," he told himself. "Didn't they say at the prison that they were slaughtering the horses just for the meat, and that butter and eggs were worth their weight in gold? I'll be lucky to get bread and soup--especially as I haven't a dollar with which to pay for a meal." Ben was about to leave the warehouse when he saw a file of Russian soldiers approaching. With the soldiers were two officers, and as they came closer he recognized one as Captain Barusky. "It was a bad thing to let that American escape," said the captain to the other officer. "If you catch sight of him, shoot him on the spot." "Which we shall do with pleasure," was the ready answer; and then officers and soldiers passed on. "I've got to keep out of sight, that's all there is to that," reasoned Ben, grimly. "If they catch me again it's all up with me. I wonder if it would be possible to get out of Port Arthur? Gilbert got out, but things weren't half so closely guarded as they are now." Ben waited until nightfall before leaving the warehouse. Then, keeping a constant lookout for Russian soldiers, he sneaked along one street after another. Where to go he did not know, but he realized that he must have something to eat or he would starve. Presently he came to a small garden in the center of which was a neat-looking residence. On the doorplate was the name Nathan Chase. "Nathan Chase!" Ben cried, half aloud. "I wonder if that can be the gentleman Gilbert knew? If it is perhaps he will aid me." At first the young captain thought to ring the doorbell, but fearful of meeting the wrong person he resolved to investigate in a more private manner. The side windows of the residence were curtained, but the curtains were only partly down. Going to one of the windows he peered inside. In a neatly furnished sitting room sat a young lady and a Russian soldier. They were arguing about something--money matters as far as Ben could make out. The young lady did not wish to give the soldier the money and he insisted upon having it. While Ben gazed at the scene, the Russian soldier leaped up, grasped the young lady by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "Don't!" screamed the young lady, in English. "Let me go!" "I want the money!" answered the soldier, in his native tongue. He was a Cossack and of brutal features. The young lady was pretty and she was helpless, and this combination was more than the young captain could resist. Regardless of consequences, he shoved up the window and leaped inside the apartment. "Keep your hands off of that young lady!" he cried, and catching the Cossack by the shoulder he threw him backward. "Don't you know how to treat a lady when you meet her, you big brute?" The Cossack was startled, first because he had not expected the interruption and secondly because he had no business to be in the mansion. He gave one look at Ben and then rushed out into the hallway and left the premises with all possible speed. As soon as the Cossack was gone the young lady and Ben stared at each other. She started to speak, but stopped suddenly. "Excuse me for coming in as I did, but I thought it was necessary," said the young captain. "I guess that fellow had no business here." "You are right, sir. Papa is away, and he wanted me to give him money. He must have known I was alone in the house." "Are you Miss Chase?" "I am. But you have the advantage of me." "I know it. I am Captain Benjamin Russell. Perhaps you know an old friend of mine, Gilbert Pennington. He knows your father, I believe." "Oh, yes, I have met Captain Pennington. They tell me he is now in the Japanese army." "He is." Ben paused and looked at the young lady keenly. "Miss Chase, can I trust you?" he asked, abruptly. "What do you mean?" "I will tell you," and in a few brief words he related his story, to which Grace Chase listened with close attention. "You were lucky to escape from that prison!" she cried, when he had finished. "To be sure I will assist you as far as I can. Papa is away on business, but I expect him back in two or three hours. We haven't much on hand to eat, but such as there is you are welcome to." "I'm hungry enough to eat anything," said Ben, with a little smile. "Then come with me to the dining room, Captain Russell, and I will prepare supper." "You haven't any servants now, I suppose?" "No; every one of them has deserted us." They entered the dining room, and the young lady asked Ben to close the shutters. While he was doing this she prepared such a meal as the larder of the house afforded. It was not much, but he did not complain, and he thanked her warmly for giving what he felt she could ill afford to set before him. The meal finished, they sat down to await the coming of Mr. Chase. While doing this Ben related some of his experiences in the army and the young lady told of the horrors of the siege. "One cannot understand it unless you are in the midst of it," she said. "Papa says business is at a standstill, the hospitals are filled with the sick and the wounded, and we are in constant dread that the next moment will be our last. The suspense is so great that in one or two cases the inhabitants have gone crazy." "I can well believe that, Miss Chase. During the war in the Philippines I saw----" Ben paused, as a heavy footstep sounded on the porch of the residence. Other footsteps followed, and then came a loud knock on the door. "Open here!" demanded a voice in Russian. "Open, in the name of the Czar!" CHAPTER XXX A SURPRISE FOR LARRY As the days passed, the watch upon Port Arthur from the sea became closer and closer. Admiral Togo gave strict orders that no ships should be allowed to enter or come from the harbor under any circumstances, and each commander of a warship was on his mettle, knowing full well that if he was derelict in his duty he would speedily hear from his superior in a manner far from pleasant. Blockading became something of a monotony to Larry and Luke, and after several weeks had passed both wished something would happen. "I'd rather put up with a stiff sea fight than this," declared the young gunner's mate. "Right ye are, lad," replied the old Yankee tar. "Ain't no use o' bein' ready for a tussle if it ain't comin'. As it now is, life in the navy ain't no more excitin' nor life on the old _Columbia_." During that time Larry received a letter from Captain Ponsberry, similar in contents to that sent to Gilbert. The Japanese Government had released the cargo of the schooner and then bought the same at a good round price. The ship had also been released, Captain Ponsberry having to pay a nominal sum for this action. "I think the captain is lucky to get off so easily," said Larry. "I suppose the Japanese Government might have scooped in everything." "Well, the Japs think it best to remain friendly to the United States," answered Luke, and it is likely that the old sailor was more than half right. Cold weather had come in earnest and work on deck was far from pleasant. Yet each man on the _Shohirika_ had to do his full duty as before, and, be it said to their credit, not a sailor or marine did any shirking. Gun drills and various exercises were kept up constantly. One day the warship ran close to a big trading brig bound for Hong-Kong. As was the custom, the brig stopped to allow the commander of the _Shohirika_ to make certain that she was not carrying contrabands of war for Russia or had no intentions of running the blockade. While this examination was going on, Larry and Luke chanced to come on deck, curious to have a look at the stranger. "About as big a brig as I ever see in these parts," was the Yankee tar's comment. "She must carry a whopping cargo." "Yes, and a lot of men to man her," answered Larry. "Think of hoisting and furling such sails as she carries!" The two vessels had come fairly close to each other, and our friends continued to survey the brig with interest. Then Larry gave a cry. "Oh, Luke, I wish I had a glass!" "Why?" "Unless I am mistaken, there is Shamhaven on the deck of that ship!" "No!" Larry pointed with his hand. "Doesn't that look like him?" he continued. "Keelhaul me, if I don't think you're right, lad. Wait, I'll get a glass an' make certain!" The old tar knew where he could borrow a glass, and in a minute more he returned, and both took a brief look through the instrument. "It is Shamhaven!" ejaculated Larry. "And look, there is Peterson coming from the fo'castle!" "That's so. What ye goin' to do about it?" "Tell the officer of the deck. They shan't get off with my money if I can help it." Rushing away, Larry soon acquainted the proper officer with what he had discovered--telling as much about the robbery as seemed necessary. The officer was interested, and, what was even more to the point, liked the young American. "Do you wish to go to yonder ship and confront the men?" he asked. "Try me and see!" answered Larry, excitedly. "I mean, yes, sir," he stammered. "And will you let Luke Striker go, too?" The officer agreed, and soon another small boat put off from the warship, and Larry and Luke, with the officer, were speedily landed on the deck of the brig. "You're a fine rascal, to rob me!" cried Larry, rushing up to Shamhaven. "And to rob Captain Ponsberry, too!" Shamhaven had not expected this encounter, and for the moment he was dumbstruck. He gazed from Larry to Luke as if they were ghosts. "I--I--who are you, anyway?" he stammered. "I don't know you," he added, striving to regain his composure. "Yes, you do know me, and you know Luke Striker, too," answered the young gunner's mate. "What does this mean?" asked the captain of the brig, while a number of others looked on with interest. "I'll tell you what it means, sir," said Larry, and did so. "He has got to give up my money belt and my money, and give up Captain Ponsberry's money, too." At this moment Peterson came up and was promptly collared by Luke. "Stop! Don't you vos touch me!" cried Peterson. "I ain't noddings done, no." "You helped Shamhaven to rob me," came from Larry. "No, he done it all alone! I no touch noddings!" "Oh, shut up!" roared Shamhaven, in disgust. "I never robbed anybody. If you lost your money Peterson must have taken it." A quarrel ensued between the evildoers, in the midst of which came a cry from the _Shohirika_. "An enemy is in sight!" At once all attention was turned to the warship. Scarcely a minute elapsed when a signal was displayed: "A battleship, and she is trying to escape up the coast!" "To the boats!" roared the Japanese officer on the deck of the brig. "To the boats at once! This investigation will have to be postponed. We shall expect you to remain as you are"--the latter words to the captain of the big brig. "As you will," was the smooth answer. A rush was made for the two small boats, Larry and Luke being hustled along with the crowd. Soon they put off for the warship, which was already preparing to follow the Russian battleship that had been seen. "I didn't get my money, after all," grumbled the youth. "But perhaps I'll get it later--if that ship of the enemy doesn't sink us," he added. As soon as they were on board of the _Shohirika_ again, the cruiser started after the battleship. But the enemy had a good lead, and it was some time before the Japanese warship could command a full head of steam, which meant everything to her. Then, when steam was to be had in plenty, there came a breakdown in the engine room, causing a delay of twenty minutes. "We'll never catch her,--at least, not to-day," said Luke, and he was right. Darkness found the battleship still three miles away. Half a dozen shots were fired at her, but none took effect. Then night ended the pursuit. In the morning nothing was to be seen of the enemy and those on the Japanese warship were much depressed, for they had fancied that an encounter might add greatly to their laurels. But shortly before noon the lookout announced the approach of another ship. "A Russian cruiser!" was the cry. This was correct--the vessel was the auxiliary cruiser, _Pontomuk_, formerly a steamer in the Siberian trade. She was manned by a fierce and swarthy-looking body of sailors and marines, and carried a first and second battery of no mean proportions. "I'll wager we have got some work cut out for us now," said Larry, and he was right. Finding she could not run away from the _Shohirika_ the Russian auxiliary cruiser came steaming up and let drive at close range,--a broadside that raked the Japanese warship from end to end with deadly effect. The _Shohirika_ answered immediately, and both the steering wheel and the rudder were smashed on the enemy's ship. "Phew! but this is hot work!" panted Larry, as all those around the gun worked like Trojans. "An' it's going to be hotter!" ejaculated Luke. He sighted the piece with care. "There, Sally Jane, let her go!" And he pressed the electric button. _Bang!_ went the gun with a roar that was deafening. Then the breech was thrown open and the smoke rolled out, filling the air with a smell that made them cough and sneeze. But nobody stopped work. In a trice the gun was cleaned and cooled and another shell pushed into place, and then the firing was repeated. "She's coming alongside!" was the announcement from on deck. "All hands to repel boarders!" "A hand-to-hand fight!" cried Larry, and scarcely had the words been uttered when there came a bump that hurled half the sailors flat. Up they sprang, and as order after order was delivered the marines and others ran for their guns and cutlasses, while the officers saw to it that their pistols were ready for use. A wild, maddening yell came from the deck of the Russian ship, as marines and sailors poured over the side. An answering _Banzai_ issued from the Japanese, and they met the first onslaught with vigor. Then came a fierce tramping over the deck, as the two conflicting parties moved first to one side and then the other. "We are ordered up!" cried Larry, a few minutes later. "Here is where we have got to fight for it, Luke!" "Right you are, lad. Do your best, and trust to Heaven for the rest!" was the Yankee tar's reply. And then, cutlasses in hand, both mounted to the deck, to engage in the fiercest hand-to-hand encounter either of them had ever experienced. CHAPTER XXXI A CALL TO REPEL BOARDERS It was a battle royal from the start and for some time neither side had an advantage. Pistol shot was met by pistol shot, and a rifle gun placed on the upper deck of the Russian warship was balanced in execution by a similar gun mounted on the _Shohirika_. The slaughter created by both weapons was frightful, a dozen or more going down on either side each time a gun was discharged. When Larry and Luke came out on desk the spectacle was enough to make the blood of the youth run cold, and it was only his previous experience in warfare which rendered him capable of doing what he knew was his duty. "Charge on them!" came the cry in Japanese. "Kill them, or drive them back to their ship! _Banzai!_" "_Banzai! Banzai Nippon!_" was the yell. "Hurrah for Japan!" The Japanese had not expected a hand-to-hand fight and the closing in of the enemy aroused them as they had never been aroused before. For the first time Larry saw the sailors and marines awakened to their full fighting fury--a fury in which every Japanese scorns death and thinks that to die is glory for himself, his family, and his emperor. They leaped on the Russians with a ferocity that was appalling, and that first shock sent the Czar's men back to the deck from which they had come. But the Russians were likewise aroused, and with cheers and yells they came on once more, leaping over the bodies of those who had fallen, and meeting shot with shot and cutlass stroke with cutlass stroke. Officers and men fought side by side, and many went down to a common death. By instinct Larry and Luke kept close together, with the others from Luke's gun near at hand, and Steve Colton and Bob Stanford not far away. Each used his cutlass as best he could, warding off the blows of the enemy and dealing cuts whenever a chance appeared. Larry was glad that he had learned to use a cutlass so well, and soon found himself the match of almost any Russian who challenged him. The fighting was now spread over the decks of both vessels, which were hooked together tightly and pounding broadside at every swell of the ocean. To attempt to blow up either ship would have been fatal probably to both--one dragging down the other--so no such attempt was made. While the fighting was at its height, Larry suddenly found himself face to face with a Russian lieutenant of marines. The fellow had a pistol in his hand, and as Larry raised his cutlass to strike, he dropped the weapon on a level with the youth's head and pulled the trigger. Had the bullet sped as intended it is likely Larry would have been killed. But just as the trigger fell, Luke, who was at Larry's side, knocked the pistol to one side with his cutlass and the bullet merely grazed Larry's hair. Then Larry leaped forward and gave the Russian lieutenant a thrust in the side which put the fellow out of the fight instantly. For fully fifteen minutes the battle had now raged and it was growing hotter each instant. All of the available men on each ship were in the fray, and the cries and yells which resounded were deafening. "We certainly can't keep this fight up much longer!" panted Larry. He had a cut on his left hand and one in the shoulder, but kept on with dogged determination. "Well, we ain't goin' to surrender!" grunted Luke. "It's fight or die, I guess!" And he leaped forward once more. Two tall Russians were directly in front of the old Yankee gunner, and both fell upon him with their cutlasses at the same instant. Luke was capable of warding off the weapon of one, but he was no match for the pair, and it speedily looked as if they would surely kill him. "Back with ye!" he yelled, and swung his cutlass as rapidly as he could, but they crowded him still closer and then one made a thrust at his face and another at his body. It was at this critical moment that Larry, who had been engaged with somebody else, saw his old war chum's predicament. With a leap he gained Luke's side, and down came his cutlass with a sweeping blow on the wrist of one of the enemy. The Russian dropped his cutlass to the deck and staggered back, his hand almost severed from his arm. Then Luke slashed the other Russian across the cheek, and both of the enemy hurried back behind the other fighters. "Good fer you, Larry!" panted Luke, when he could speak. "They had me about cornered!" "These fellows certainly know how to put up a stiff fight." "You're wounded yourself. Better go below." "No, I'm going to see it out. Why don't you go down yourself?" "It ain't in me, thet's why," answered the old Yankee gunner. Again came a fierce onslaught from the Russians. But the Japanese now had another rifle gun in place, and sharpshooters were crowding the fighting tops. The latter picked off the Russian officers, and this created a momentary confusion. Then came a sudden order to unlock the two ships and this was done. "The Russian ship is going down!" was the yell, and the news proved true. An explosion below decks had torn a hole in the Russian warship's bottom and she began to sink rapidly. The scene was now indescribable. Both the Russians and the Japanese on the doomed vessel endeavored to reach the deck of the _Shohirika_. In this struggle the majority of the Russians received the worst of it, and fully fifty of them, including not a few wounded, remained on board when the doomed warship took her final plunge beneath the waters of the sea. Eighteen Japanese were likewise drowned, including two under officers. "Surrender, or we will drive you over the side!" was the command from the Japanese, and utterly disheartened by the loss of their ship, the Russians threw down their arms; and the fierce and bloody contest was at an end. The common sailors were driven forward and chained together or bound with ropes, and the officers were grouped near the stern, where a formal surrender was made by the captain of the lost ship giving up his sword. This formality over, the Japanese set to work at once, cleaning up the deck and caring for the wounded as well as the hospital accommodations of the _Shohirika_ would permit. "I never wish to see another fight like that," was Larry's comment, when he had washed up and had his wounds dressed. "It was simply a slaughter!" "Right you are, lad," answered Luke. "An' I reckon I'm a-goin' to carry the scars o' it down to my grave." The old Yankee gunner had received several severe wounds, and he was glad enough to have Larry swing his hammock for him and lie down to rest. The battle over, the captain of the _Shohirika_ sailed away, to look for the big brig once more and to report to the flagship of the fleet. But the brig had taken time by the forelock and left for parts unknown. "I suppose that is the last of Shamhaven and Peterson and my money," said Larry, when this news reached him. "I wish we had met that brig a week ago." "Oh, it's possible we may see her again," said Luke, cheerfully. "But it gets me that she ran away, unless she had something to run for." "She must have been carrying some contraband of war, Luke." "It ain't unlikely, lad. Well, she's gone, an' it ain't no use to cry over spilt milk. When you write to Captain Ponsberry you can tell him ye saw them two rascals an' thet's all the good it did." "Do you know what I'm thinking?" "Well?" "I'm thinking that brig was bound for Port Arthur, and she'll slip into that port some dark and misty night." "It's a risky piece o' business. Either our ships or the mines are likely to blow her up." "That is true. But the Russians at the port must be getting desperate, and they'll most likely pay any kind of a price for supplies. A captain who ran the blockade successfully could make a fortune," returned Larry. The young gunner's mate was right in his surmise. The big brig was a Russian vessel in disguise and loaded to her fullest capacity with supplies for the blockaded seaport. She had been fitted out at Vladivostok, but had taken a wide sea course, so as to pretend to have set sail from Nagasaki. Several Russian shipping merchants were interested in the venture, which was a private one, and among the number was Ivan Snokoff. From Captain Barusky, Snokoff had heard that fabulous prices could be obtained for needed commodities at Port Arthur, and he had invested nearly every _ruble_ he possessed in the enterprise. If the vessel succeeded in reaching Port Arthur, Captain Barusky was to undertake the disposal of the goods shipped in Snokoff's name, and then the two were to divide the profits. The big brig had come close to being wrecked off the coast of Japan and during a gale had run down a fishing smack containing Shamhaven, Peterson, and two Japanese. One Japanese had been drowned, and the three others from the smack had been made to join the crew of the big brig. This was agreeable to Shamhaven and Peterson, who did not wish to remain near Nagasaki or at any place where Captain Ponsberry or Larry would be likely to discover them. CHAPTER XXXII FALL OF PORT ARTHUR--CONCLUSION "Open, in the name of the Czar!" Such was the command which startled both Ben and Grace Chase, and for the moment each gazed at the other in horror, not knowing what to say or do. "I must get away from here!" whispered the young captain, but scarcely had he spoken when there came a crash, and the front door of the residence swung in. Then half a dozen Russians poured into the house. "There he is, as I suspected!" said one, an officer from the prison. "We'll see that you do not escape again," he added to Ben, grimly. In the midst of the excitement Nathan Chase arrived. But he could do nothing for the young captain, and was glad that he was left to protect his daughter. "We ought also to take her," said the prison official. "She did wrong to harbor this prisoner." And then, without further ado, Ben was marched back to the place from which he had escaped such a short while before. After that the time passed dismally enough for the young American. For having run away he was put on the most miserable fare the prison afforded, the food being often so vile he could not touch it. Whenever he attempted to protest he was met with kicks and blows. "They might as well kill me and be done with it," he thought. "Oh, how I wish the Japs would take the city and give me back my liberty!" In those days Port Arthur became a most uncomfortable place for all living there. The Japanese army was pressing forward steadily, and army and navy did everything possible to destroy the shipping in the harbor and make the various forts untenable. Shots and shells were hurled into the city at all hours of the day and night, until living there became worse than a nightmare. Among the soldiers scurvy became prevalent, until the hospitals could not accommodate the sick and the dying. Nothing was done to clean up the streets, and the rubbish lay many feet deep over the sidewalks. Practically all of the shops were closed, for they had next to nothing to sell. The main article of food was rice, and to cook this many old buildings had to be razed in order to procure necessary firewood. As winter approached the suffering of the poor became so intense that riots broke out and to maintain order not a few were shot down. Such was the condition in the city. Outside, to the northward, the fighting went on week after week. So many soldiers were killed upon both sides that to bury the dead became impossible, and thousands were left where they had fallen, to become the prey of vultures, or to putrefy and fill the locality with a stench that was as nauseating as it was deadly! Such are the horrors of modern warfare. The demands for universal peace cannot come any too quickly. In the advance on Port Arthur, Gilbert did his full share of the fighting. The Japanese were now struggling for the possession of what was known as 203-Meter Hill, a rocky elevation which was not fortified but which was in the direct line of Russian fire. The top of 203-Meter Hill commanded a fine view of Port Arthur and its harbor, and it was this view the Japanese needed, in order to make their shell fire most effective. The battle for 203-Meter Hill is one which will be long remembered. The Japanese fought with a desperation impossible to describe, and when the hill was captured, General Stoessel sent out nearly all his available men to retake it. But this could not be accomplished, and late in December the Japanese stormed the inner defenses of the Russian chain of forts, killing nearly all of the brave defenders who dared to oppose them. Then tons upon tons of shot and shell were sent into Port Arthur and over the harbor once again, until the locality became little short of an inferno. Nearly all the shipping was destroyed, and so many buildings were set on fire that to stem the conflagration became all but impossible. The end came on New Year's Day, 1905--ten months after the famous siege began. To hold out longer seemed impossible, and to avoid further carnage General Stoessel called a council of war and sent a message to General Nogi offering to capitulate. "Port Arthur has surrendered!" The news flew from one Japanese regiment to another, and soon the warships were sending the message from vessel to vessel. For once the Japanese showed their real feelings, and "_Banzai! Banzai!_" rent the air again and again. "Long life to the Mikado! Port Arthur is ours once more!" "It is a well-earned victory!" cried Larry, when he heard the news. "Yes, lad, and I trust it brings this bloody war to a close," came from Luke. "They say General Stoessel blew up the warships remaining in the harbor." "He couldn't have had many left," returned the old Yankee gunner. "The army and the navy have about battered everything to bits." And in this surmise Luke was correct. The fall of Port Arthur caused widespread consternation in Russia, while the people of Japan were correspondingly elated. Because of the gallant defense of the place, the Japanese made generous terms with those who had surrendered, much to the satisfaction of the world at large. Many had predicted a universal butchery, but nothing of the sort occurred, and the Russian sick and wounded were given every possible attention. After the fall of the port Larry was permitted to go ashore some miles above the town, and he managed to locate Gilbert, and then learned for the first time that Ben was a prisoner in the captured place. "A prisoner!" he ejaculated. "Oh, Gilbert, we must find him and have him released!" "That is just what I have been thinking, but I don't know exactly how to go at it, Larry." "There ought to be some way of doing these things. We might interview one of the generals and----Who is that coming this way?" "Why, it's Ben himself!" cried Gilbert. "Ben!" screamed Larry, and ran forward to meet his brother. Soon they were in each other's arms, and then Gilbert received an equally warm greeting. "We were released this morning," said Ben. "I can tell you I was mighty glad of it. I haven't had a meal fit to eat in weeks." "Well, you shall have the best our larder affords," said Gilbert. "My, but you're a sight for sore eyes!" he continued. "Don't say a word!" came from Larry. Two tears were glistening in his honest eyes. "It's almost too good to be true!" * * * * * Here let me add a few words more and then bring to a close this tale of the naval and military adventures "At the Fall of Port Arthur." After the surrender of the city the army in that vicinity, and also the fleet near the harbor, had but little to do outside of caring for the sick and wounded and disposing of the thousands of prisoners. The Russian officers were allowed to go on parole and the prisoners were transported to Japan. Many of the mines in the harbor were taken up, so that ships might come and go in safety. Larry was anxious to learn what had become of Shamhaven and Peterson, and through the Japanese guards stationed in Port Arthur located the rascally sailors at a cheap boarding-house. Both were made prisoners, and Larry got back a portion of the money stolen from Captain Ponsberry and himself. It was learned that the big brig had been destroyed by the Japanese shell fire, so that Ivan Snokoff lost everything he placed in the venture. "Well, it served him right," said Gilbert, when he heard of this. "He is responsible for the time Ben spent in prison." What had become of Captain Barusky was at first a mystery. But at last it was learned that he had sneaked aboard of a transport filled with wounded soldiers and bound for Chefoo. He pretended to be wounded himself, and was given medical attention until the trick was discovered, when he was treated as a coward. As soon as Chefoo was reached he disappeared, and that was the last seen or heard of him for some time. "We are well rid of that fellow," said Ben. "I hope the Russians read him out of their army. He isn't fit to hold a commission." "What do you imagine will be the next move in this war?" questioned Gilbert. "It is hard to tell. I think they will try to take Mukden, for one thing." "Russia is going to send out more warships," put in Larry. "If they come this way, it may mean more fighting for me." "Well, I reckon you'll do your duty, if you are put to it," answered Gilbert, with a smile. "And so will you do yours," came from Larry. "We'll all try to do our duty," broke in Ben. "We didn't join the army and the navy to hang back. Just the same, I'd enjoy a bit of a rest just now." The others agreed that the rest would be beneficial all around. It was given to them; and here, for the present at least, we will leave them, wishing them the best of good luck in the future. * * * * * Transcriber's note: Obvious punctuation errors were corrected. Additional corrections: CH X: Changed "on" to "of" ...I reckon some of us... CH XII: Changed "he" to "be" ...but this could not be helped... CH XXII: Deleted "t" from "fittted" ...warship was being fitted... CH XXVII: Changed 'threatended' to 'threatened' ...he was threatened with a flogging... CH XXXII: Capitalized 'And' beginning of sentence: ...the Yankee tar's reply. And then, cutlasses in hand,... Added comma: ...just as the trigger fell,... Changed 'located' to 'locate' ...he managed to locate Gilbert... 
3050	----	Transcribed from the 1911 Harper and Brothers edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org NOTES OF A WAR CORRESPONDENT BY RICHARD HARDING DAVIS ILLUSTRATED CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS NEW YORK::::::::::::::::::::::::1911 COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY HARPER & BROTHERS * * * * * COPYRIGHT, 1898, 1900, 1910, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS [Picture: At the front in Manchuria] Contents: The Cuban-Spanish War The Death of Rodriguez The Greek-Turkish War The Battle of Velestinos The Spanish-American War I. The Rough Riders at Guasimas II. The Battle of San Juan Hill III. The Taking of Coamo IV. The Passing of San Juan Hill The South African War I. With Buller's Column II. The Relief of Ladysmith III. The Night Before the Battle The Japanese-Russian War Battles I did not see A War Correspondent's Kit THE CUBAN-SPANISH WAR: THE DEATH OF RODRIGUEZ {1} Adolfo Rodriguez was the only son of a Cuban farmer, who lived nine miles outside of Santa Clara, beyond the hills that surround that city to the north. When the revolution in Cuba broke out young Rodriguez joined the insurgents, leaving his father and mother and two sisters at the farm. He was taken, in December of 1896, by a force of the Guardia Civile, the corps d'elite of the Spanish army, and defended himself when they tried to capture him, wounding three of them with his machete. He was tried by a military court for bearing arms against the government, and sentenced to be shot by a fusillade some morning before sunrise. Previous to execution he was confined in the military prison of Santa Clara with thirty other insurgents, all of whom were sentenced to be shot, one after the other, on mornings following the execution of Rodriguez. His execution took place the morning of the 19th of January, 1897, at a place a half-mile distant from the city, on the great plain that stretches from the forts out to the hills, beyond which Rodriguez had lived for nineteen years. At the time of his death he was twenty years old. I witnessed his execution, and what follows is an account of the way he went to his death. The young man's friends could not be present, for it was impossible for them to show themselves in that crowd and that place with wisdom or without distress, and I like to think that, although Rodriguez could not know it, there was one person present when he died who felt keenly for him, and who was a sympathetic though unwilling spectator. There had been a full moon the night preceding the execution, and when the squad of soldiers marched from town it was still shining brightly through the mists. It lighted a plain two miles in extent, broken by ridges and gullies and covered with thick, high grass, and with bunches of cactus and palmetto. In the hollow of the ridges the mist lay like broad lakes of water, and on one side of the plain stood the walls of the old town. On the other rose hills covered with royal palms that showed white in the moonlight, like hundreds of marble columns. A line of tiny camp-fires that the sentries had built during the night stretched between the forts at regular intervals and burned clearly. But as the light grew stronger and the moonlight faded these were stamped out, and when the soldiers came in force the moon was a white ball in the sky, without radiance, the fires had sunk to ashes, and the sun had not yet risen. So even when the men were formed into three sides of a hollow square, they were scarcely able to distinguish one another in the uncertain light of the morning. There were about three hundred soldiers in the formation. They belonged to the volunteers, and they deployed upon the plain with their band in front playing a jaunty quickstep, while their officers galloped from one side to the other through the grass, seeking a suitable place for the execution. Outside the line the band still played merrily. A few men and boys, who had been dragged out of their beds by the music, moved about the ridges behind the soldiers, half-clothed, unshaven, sleepy-eyed, yawning, stretching themselves nervously and shivering in the cool, damp air of the morning. Either owing to discipline or on account of the nature of their errand, or because the men were still but half awake, there was no talking in the ranks, and the soldiers stood motionless, leaning on their rifles, with their backs turned to the town, looking out across the plain to the hills. The men in the crowd behind them were also grimly silent. They knew that whatever they might say would be twisted into a word of sympathy for the condemned man or a protest against the government. So no one spoke; even the officers gave their orders in gruff whispers, and the men in the crowd did not mix together, but looked suspiciously at one another and kept apart. As the light increased a mass of people came hurrying from the town with two black figures leading them, and the soldiers drew up at attention, and part of the double line fell back and left an opening in the square. With us a condemned man walks only the short distance from his cell to the scaffold or the electric chair, shielded from sight by the prison walls, and it often occurs even then that the short journey is too much for his strength and courage. But the Spaniards on this morning made the prisoner walk for over a half-mile across the broken surface of the fields. I expected to find the man, no matter what his strength at other times might be, stumbling and faltering on this cruel journey; but as he came nearer I saw that he led all the others, that the priests on either side of him were taking two steps to his one, and that they were tripping on their gowns and stumbling over the hollows in their efforts to keep pace with him as he walked, erect and soldierly, at a quick step in advance of them. He had a handsome, gentle face of the peasant type, a light, pointed beard, great wistful eyes, and a mass of curly black hair. He was shockingly young for such a sacrifice, and looked more like a Neapolitan than a Cuban. You could imagine him sitting on the quay at Naples or Genoa lolling in the sun and showing his white teeth when he laughed. Around his neck, hanging outside his linen blouse, he wore a new scapular. It seems a petty thing to have been pleased with at such a time, but I confess to have felt a thrill of satisfaction when I saw, as the Cuban passed me, that he held a cigarette between his lips, not arrogantly nor with bravado, but with the nonchalance of a man who meets his punishment fearlessly, and who will let his enemies see that they can kill but cannot frighten him. It was very quickly finished, with rough and, but for one frightful blunder, with merciful swiftness. The crowd fell back when it came to the square, and the condemned man, the priests, and the firing squad of six young volunteers passed in and the line closed behind them. The officer who had held the cord that bound the Cuban's arms behind him and passed across his breast, let it fall on the grass and drew his sword, and Rodriguez dropped his cigarette from his lips and bent and kissed the cross which the priest held up before him. The elder of the priests moved to one side and prayed rapidly in a loud whisper, while the other, a younger man, walked behind the firing squad and covered his face with his hands. They had both spent the last twelve hours with Rodriguez in the chapel of the prison. The Cuban walked to where the officer directed him to stand, and turning his back on the square, faced the hills and the road across them, which led to his father's farm. As the officer gave the first command he straightened himself as far as the cords would allow, and held up his head and fixed his eyes immovably on the morning light, which had just begun to show above the hills. He made a picture of such pathetic helplessness, but of such courage and dignity, that he reminded me on the instant of that statue of Nathan Hale which stands in the City Hall Park, above the roar of Broadway. The Cuban's arms were bound, as are those of the statue, and he stood firmly, with his weight resting on his heels like a soldier on parade, and with his face held up fearlessly, as is that of the statue. But there was this difference, that Rodriguez, while probably as willing to give six lives for his country as was the American rebel, being only a peasant, did not think to say so, and he will not, in consequence, live in bronze during the lives of many men, but will be remembered only as one of thirty Cubans, one of whom was shot at Santa Clara on each succeeding day at sunrise. The officer had given the order, the men had raised their pieces, and the condemned man had heard the clicks of the triggers as they were pulled back, and he had not moved. And then happened one of the most cruelly refined, though unintentional, acts of torture that one can very well imagine. As the officer slowly raised his sword, preparatory to giving the signal, one of the mounted officers rode up to him and pointed out silently that, as I had already observed with some satisfaction, the firing squad were so placed that when they fired they would shoot several of the soldiers stationed on the extreme end of the square. Their captain motioned his men to lower their pieces, and then walked across the grass and laid his hand on the shoulder of the waiting prisoner. It is not pleasant to think what that shock must have been. The man had steeled himself to receive a volley of bullets. He believed that in the next instant he would be in another world; he had heard the command given, had heard the click of the Mausers as the locks caught--and then, at that supreme moment, a human hand had been laid upon his shoulder and a voice spoke in his ear. You would expect that any man, snatched back to life in such a fashion would start and tremble at the reprieve, or would break down altogether, but this boy turned his head steadily, and followed with his eyes the direction of the officer's sword, then nodded gravely, and, with his shoulders squared, took up the new position, straightened his back, and once more held himself erect. As an exhibition of self-control this should surely rank above feats of heroism performed in battle, where there are thousands of comrades to give inspiration. This man was alone, in sight of the hills he knew, with only enemies about him, with no source to draw on for strength but that which lay within himself. [Picture: The death of Rodriguez] The officer of the firing squad, mortified by his blunder, hastily whipped up his sword, the men once more levelled their rifles, the sword rose, dropped, and the men fired. At the report the Cuban's head snapped back almost between his shoulders, but his body fell slowly, as though some one had pushed him gently forward from behind and he had stumbled. He sank on his side in the wet grass without a struggle or sound, and did not move again. It was difficult to believe that he meant to lie there, that it could be ended so without a word, that the man in the linen suit would not rise to his feet and continue to walk on over the hills, as he apparently had started to do, to his home; that there was not a mistake somewhere, or that at least some one would be sorry or say something or run to pick him up. But, fortunately, he did not need help, and the priests returned--the younger one with the tears running down his face--and donned their vestments and read a brief requiem for his soul, while the squad stood uncovered, and the men in hollow square shook their accoutrements into place, and shifted their pieces and got ready for the order to march, and the band began again with the same quickstep which the fusillade had interrupted. The figure still lay on the grass untouched, and no one seemed to remember that it had walked there of itself, or noticed that the cigarette still burned, a tiny ring of living fire, at the place where the figure had first stood. The figure was a thing of the past, and the squad shook itself like a great snake, and then broke into little pieces and started off jauntily, stumbling in the high grass and striving to keep step to the music. The officers led it past the figure in the linen suit, and so close to it that the file closers had to part with the column to avoid treading on it. Each soldier as he passed turned and looked down on it, some craning their necks curiously, others giving a careless glance, and some without any interest at all, as they would have looked at a house by the roadside, or a hole in the road. One young soldier caught his foot in a trailing vine, just opposite to it, and fell. He grew very red when his comrades giggled at him for his awkwardness. The crowd of sleepy spectators fell in on either side of the band. They, too, had forgotten it, and the priests put their vestments back in the bag and wrapped their heavy cloaks about them, and hurried off after the others. Every one seemed to have forgotten it except two men, who came slowly towards it from the town, driving a bullock-cart that bore an unplaned coffin, each with a cigarette between his lips, and with his throat wrapped in a shawl to keep out the morning mists. At that moment the sun, which had shown some promise of its coming in the glow above the hills, shot up suddenly from behind them in all the splendor of the tropics, a fierce, red disk of heat, and filled the air with warmth and light. The bayonets of the retreating column flashed in it, and at the sight a rooster in a farm-yard near by crowed vigorously, and a dozen bugles answered the challenge with the brisk, cheery notes of the reveille, and from all parts of the city the church bells jangled out the call for early mass, and the little world of Santa Clara seemed to stretch itself and to wake to welcome the day just begun. But as I fell in at the rear of the procession and looked back, the figure of the young Cuban, who was no longer a part of the world of Santa Clara, was asleep in the wet grass, with his motionless arms still tightly bound behind him, with the scapular twisted awry across his face, and the blood from his breast sinking into the soil he had tried to free. THE GREEK-TURKISH WAR: THE BATTLE OF VELESTINOS {2} The Turks had made three attacks on Velestinos on three different days, and each time had been repulsed. A week later, on the 4th of May, they came back again, to the number of ten thousand, and brought four batteries with them, and the fighting continued for two more days. This was called the second battle of Velestinos. In the afternoon of the 5th the Crown Prince withdrew from Pharsala to take up a stronger position at Domokos, and the Greeks under General Smolenski, the military hero of the campaign, were forced to retreat, and the Turks came in, and, according to their quaint custom, burned the village and marched on to Volo. John Bass, the American correspondent, and myself were keeping house in the village, in the home of the mayor. He had fled from the town, as had nearly all the villagers; and as we liked the appearance of his house, I gave Bass a leg up over the wall around his garden, and Bass opened the gate, and we climbed in through his front window. It was like the invasion of the home of the Dusantes by Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine, and, like them, we were constantly making discoveries of fresh treasure-trove. Sometimes it was in the form of a cake of soap or a tin of coffee, and once it was the mayor's fluted petticoats, which we tried on, and found very heavy. We could not discover what he did for pockets. All of these things, and the house itself, were burned to ashes, we were told, a few hours after we retreated, and we feel less troubled now at having made such free use of them. On the morning of the 4th we were awakened by the firing of cannon from a hill just over our heads, and we met in the middle of the room and solemnly shook hands. There was to be a battle, and we were the only correspondents on the spot. As I represented the London _Times_, Bass was the only representative of an American newspaper who saw this fight from its beginning to its end. We found all the hills to the left of the town topped with long lines of men crouching in little trenches. There were four rows of hills. If you had measured the distance from one hill-top to the next, they would have been from one hundred to three hundred yards distant from one another. In between the hills were gullies, or little valleys, and the beds of streams that had dried up in the hot sun. These valleys were filled with high grass that waved about in the breeze and was occasionally torn up and tossed in the air by a shell. The position of the Greek forces was very simple. On the top of each hill was a trench two or three feet deep and some hundred yards long. The earth that had been scooped out to make the trench was packed on the edge facing the enemy, and on the top of that some of the men had piled stones, through which they poked their rifles. When a shell struck the ridge it would sometimes scatter these stones in among the men, and they did quite as much damage as the shells. Back of these trenches, and down that side of the hill which was farther from the enemy, were the reserves, who sprawled at length in the long grass, and smoked and talked and watched the shells dropping into the gully at their feet. The battle, which lasted two days, opened in a sudden and terrific storm of hail. But the storm passed as quickly as it came, leaving the trenches running with water, like the gutters of a city street after a spring shower; and the men soon sopped them up with their overcoats and blankets, and in half an hour the sun had dried the wet uniforms, and the field-birds had begun to chirp again, and the grass was warm and fragrant. The sun was terribly hot. There was no other day during that entire brief campaign when its glare was so intense or the heat so suffocating. The men curled up in the trenches, with their heads pressed against the damp earth, panting and breathing heavily, and the heat-waves danced and quivered about them, making the plain below flicker like a picture in a cinematograph. From time to time an officer would rise and peer down into the great plain, shading his eyes with his hands, and shout something at them, and they would turn quickly in the trench and rise on one knee. And at the shout that followed they would fire four or five rounds rapidly and evenly, and then, at a sound from the officer's whistle, would drop back again and pick up the cigarettes they had placed in the grass and begin leisurely to swab out their rifles with a piece of dirty rag on a cleaning rod. Down in the plain below there was apparently nothing at which they could shoot except the great shadows of the clouds drifting across the vast checker-board of green and yellow fields, and disappearing finally between the mountain passes beyond. In some places there were square dark patches that might have been bushes, and nearer to us than these were long lines of fresh earth, from which steam seemed to be escaping in little wisps. What impressed us most of what we could see of the battle then was the remarkable number of cartridges the Greek soldiers wasted in firing into space, and the fact that they had begun to fire at such long range that, in order to get the elevation, they had placed the rifle butt under the armpit instead of against the shoulder. Their sights were at the top notch. The cartridges reminded one of corn-cobs jumping out of a corn-sheller, and it was interesting when the bolts were shot back to see a hundred of them pop up into the air at the same time, flashing in the sun as though they were glad to have done their work and to get out again. They rolled by the dozens underfoot, and twinkled in the grass, and when one shifted his position in the narrow trench, or stretched his cramped legs, they tinkled musically. It was like wading in a gutter filled with thimbles. Then there began a concert which came from just overhead--a concert of jarring sounds and little whispers. The "shrieking shrapnel," of which one reads in the description of every battle, did not seem so much like a shriek as it did like the jarring sound of telegraph wires when some one strikes the pole from which they hang, and when they came very close the noise was like the rushing sound that rises between two railroad trains when they pass each other in opposite directions and at great speed. After a few hours we learned by observation that when a shell sang overhead it had already struck somewhere else, which was comforting, and which was explained, of course, by the fact that the speed of the shell is so much greater than the rate at which sound travels. The bullets were much more disturbing; they seemed to be less open in their warfare, and to steal up and sneak by, leaving no sign, and only to whisper as they passed. They moved under a cloak of invisibility, and made one feel as though he were the blind man in a game of blind-man's-buff, where every one tapped him in passing, leaving him puzzled and ignorant as to whither they had gone and from what point they would come next. The bullets sounded like rustling silk, or like humming-birds on a warm summer's day, or like the wind as it is imitated on the stage of a theatre. Any one who has stood behind the scenes when a storm is progressing on the stage, knows the little wheel wound with silk that brushes against another piece of silk, and which produces the whistling effect of the wind. At Velestinos, when the firing was very heavy, it was exactly as though some one were turning one of these silk wheels, and so rapidly as to make the whistling continuous. When this concert opened, the officers shouted out new orders, and each of the men shoved his sight nearer to the barrel, and when he fired again, rubbed the butt of his gun snugly against his shoulder. The huge green blotches on the plain had turned blue, and now we could distinguish that they moved, and that they were moving steadily forward. Then they would cease to move, and a little later would be hidden behind great puffs of white smoke, which were followed by a flash of flame; and still later there would come a dull report. At the same instant something would hurl itself jarring through the air above our heads, and by turning on one elbow we could see a sudden upheaval in the sunny landscape behind us, a spurt of earth and stones like a miniature geyser, which was filled with broken branches and tufts of grass and pieces of rock. As the Turkish aim grew better these volcanoes appeared higher up the hill, creeping nearer and nearer to the rampart of fresh earth on the second trench until the shells hammered it at last again and again, sweeping it away and cutting great gashes in it, through which we saw the figures of men caught up and hurled to one side, and others flinging themselves face downward as though they were diving into water; and at the same instant in our own trench the men would gasp as though they had been struck too, and then becoming conscious of having done this would turn and smile sheepishly at each other, and crawl closer into the burrows they had made in the earth. [Picture: A mountain battery at Velestinos] From where we sat on the edge of the trench, with our feet among the cartridges, we could, by leaning forward, look over the piled-up earth into the plain below, and soon, without any aid from field-glasses, we saw the blocks of blue break up into groups of men. These men came across the ploughed fields in long, widely opened lines, walking easily and leisurely, as though they were playing golf or sowing seed in the furrows. The Greek rifles crackled and flashed at the lines, but the men below came on quite steadily, picking their way over the furrows and appearing utterly unconscious of the seven thousand rifles that were calling on them to halt. They were advancing directly toward a little sugar-loaf hill, on the top of which was a mountain battery perched like a tiara on a woman's head. It was throwing one shell after another in the very path of the men below, but the Turks still continued to pick their way across the field, without showing any regard for the mountain battery. It was worse than threatening; it seemed almost as though they meant to insult us. If they had come up on a run they would not have appeared so contemptuous, for it would have looked then as though they were trying to escape the Greek fire, or that they were at least interested in what was going forward. But the steady advance of so many men, each plodding along by himself, with his head bowed and his gun on his shoulder, was aggravating. There was a little village at the foot of the hill. It was so small that no one had considered it. It was more like a collection of stables gathered round a residence than a town, and there was a wall completely encircling it, with a gate in the wall that faced us. Suddenly the doors of this gate were burst open from the inside, and a man in a fez ran through them, followed by many more. The first man was waving a sword, and a peasant in petticoats ran at his side and pointed up with his hand at our trench. Until that moment the battle had lacked all human interest; we might have been watching a fight against the stars or the man in the moon, and, in spite of the noise and clatter of the Greek rifles, and the ghostlike whispers and the rushing sounds in the air, there was nothing to remind us of any other battle of which we had heard or read. But we had seen pictures of officers waving swords, and we knew that the fez was the sign of the Turk--of the enemy--of the men who were invading Thessaly, who were at that moment planning to come up a steep hill on which we happened to be sitting and attack the people on top of it. And the spectacle at once became comprehensible, and took on the human interest it had lacked. The men seemed to feel this, for they sprang up and began cheering and shouting, and fired in an upright position, and by so doing exposed themselves at full length to the fire from the men below. The Turks in front of the village ran back into it again, and those in the fields beyond turned and began to move away, but in that same plodding, aggravating fashion. They moved so leisurely that there was a pause in the noise along the line, while the men watched them to make sure that they were really retreating. And then there was a long cheer, after which they all sat down, breathing deeply, and wiping the sweat and dust across their faces, and took long pulls at their canteens. The different trenches were not all engaged at the same time. They acted according to the individual judgment of their commanding officer, but always for the general good. Sometimes the fire of the enemy would be directed on one particular trench, and it would be impossible for the men in that trench to rise and reply without haying their heads carried away; so they would lie hidden, and the men in the trenches flanking them would act in their behalf, and rake the enemy from the front and from every side, until the fire on that trench was silenced, or turned upon some other point. The trenches stretched for over half a mile in a semicircle, and the little hills over which they ran lay at so many different angles, and rose to such different heights, that sometimes the men in one trench fired directly over the heads of their own men. From many trenches in the first line it was impossible to see any of the Greek soldiers except those immediately beside you. If you looked back or beyond on either hand there was nothing to be seen but high hills topped with fresh earth, and the waving yellow grass, and the glaring blue sky. General Smolenski directed the Greeks from the plain to the far right of the town; and his presence there, although none of the men saw nor heard of him directly throughout the entire day, was more potent for good than would have been the presence of five thousand other men held in reserve. He was a mile or two miles away from the trenches, but the fact that he was there, and that it was Smolenski who was giving the orders, was enough. Few had ever seen Smolenski, but his name was sufficient; it was as effective as is Mr. Bowen's name on a Bank of England note. It gave one a pleasant feeling to know that he was somewhere within call; you felt there would be no "routs" nor stampedes while he was there. And so for two days those seven thousand men lay in the trenches, repulsing attack after attack of the Turkish troops, suffocated with the heat and chilled with sudden showers, and swept unceasingly by shells and bullets--partly because they happened to be good men and brave men, but largely because they knew that somewhere behind them a stout, bull-necked soldier was sitting on a camp-stool, watching them through a pair of field-glasses. Toward mid-day you would see a man leave the trench with a comrade's arm around him, and start on the long walk to the town where the hospital corps were waiting for him. These men did not wear their wounds with either pride or braggadocio, but regarded the wet sleeves and shapeless arms in a sort of wondering surprise. There was much more of surprise than of pain in their faces, and they seemed to be puzzling as to what they had done in the past to deserve such a punishment. [Picture: Firing from the trenches at Velestinos] Other men were carried out of the trench and laid on their backs on the high grass, staring up drunkenly at the glaring sun, and with their limbs fallen into unfamiliar poses. They lay so still, and they were so utterly oblivious of the roar and rattle and the anxious energy around them that one grew rather afraid of them and of their superiority to their surroundings. The sun beat on them, and the insects in the grass waving above them buzzed and hummed, or burrowed in the warm moist earth upon which they lay; over their heads the invisible carriers of death jarred the air with shrill crescendoes, and near them a comrade sat hacking with his bayonet at a lump of hard bread. He sprawled contentedly in the hot sun, with humped shoulders and legs far apart, and with his cap tipped far over his eyes. Every now and again he would pause, with a piece of cheese balanced on the end of his knife-blade, and look at the twisted figures by him on the grass, or he would dodge involuntarily as a shell swung low above his head, and smile nervously at the still forms on either side of him that had not moved. Then he brushed the crumbs from his jacket and took a drink out of his hot canteen, and looking again at the sleeping figures pressing down the long grass beside him, crawled back on his hands and knees to the trench and picked up his waiting rifle. The dead gave dignity to what the other men were doing, and made it noble, and, from another point of view, quite senseless. For their dying had proved nothing. Men who could have been much better spared than they, were still alive in the trenches, and for no reason but through mere dumb chance. There was no selection of the unfittest; it seemed to be ruled by unreasoning luck. A certain number of shells and bullets passed through a certain area of space, and men of different bulks blocked that space in different places. If a man happened to be standing in the line of a bullet he was killed and passed into eternity, leaving a wife and children, perhaps, to mourn him. "Father died," these children will say, "doing his duty." As a matter of fact, father died because he happened to stand up at the wrong moment, or because he turned to ask the man on his right for a match, instead of leaning toward the left, and he projected his bulk of two hundred pounds where a bullet, fired by a man who did not know him and who had not aimed at him, happened to want the right of way. One of the two had to give it, and as the bullet would not, the soldier had his heart torn out. The man who sat next to me happened to stoop to fill his cartridge-box just as the bullet that wanted the space he had occupied passed over his bent shoulder; and so he was not killed, but will live for sixty years, perhaps, and will do much good or much evil. Another man in the same trench sat up to clean his rifle, and had his arm in the air driving the cleaning rod down the barrel, when a bullet passed through his lungs, and the gun fell across his face, with the rod sticking in it, and he pitched forward on his shoulder quite dead. If he had not cleaned his gun at that moment he would probably be alive in Athens now, sitting in front of a cafe and fighting the war over again. Viewed from that point, and leaving out the fact that God ordered it all, the fortunes of the game of war seemed as capricious as matching pennies, and as impersonal as the wheel at Monte Carlo. In it the brave man did not win because he was brave, but because he was lucky. A fool and a philosopher are equal at a game of dice. And these men who threw dice with death were interesting to watch, because, though they gambled for so great a stake, they did so unconcernedly and without flinching, and without apparently appreciating the seriousness of the game. There was a red-headed, freckled peasant boy, in dirty petticoats, who guided Bass and myself to the trenches. He was one of the few peasants who had not run away, and as he had driven sheep over every foot of the hills, he was able to guide the soldiers through those places where they were best protected from the bullets of the enemy. He did this all day, and was always, whether coming or going, under a heavy fire; but he enjoyed that fact, and he seemed to regard the battle only as a delightful change in the quiet routine of his life, as one of our own country boys at home would regard the coming of the spring circus or the burning of a neighbor's barn. He ran dancing ahead of us, pointing to where a ledge of rock offered a natural shelter, or showing us a steep gully where the bullets could not fall. When they came very near him he would jump high in the air, not because he was startled, but out of pure animal joy in the excitement of it, and he would frown importantly and shake his red curls at us, as though to say: "I told you to be careful. Now, you see. Don't let that happen again." We met him many times during the two days, escorting different companies of soldiers from one point to another, as though they were visitors to his estate. When a shell broke, he would pick up a piece and present it to the officer in charge, as though it were a flower he had plucked from his own garden, and which he wanted his guest to carry away with him as a souvenir of his visit. Some one asked the boy if his father and mother knew where he was, and he replied, with amusement, that they had run away and deserted him, and that he had remained because he wished to see what a Turkish army looked like. He was a much more plucky boy than the overrated Casabianca, who may have stood on the burning deck whence all but him had fled because he could not swim, and because it was with him a choice of being either burned or drowned. This boy stuck to the burning deck when it was possible for him at any time to have walked away and left it burning. But he stayed on because he was amused, and because he was able to help the soldiers from the city in safety across his native heath. He was much the best part of the show, and one of the bravest Greeks on the field. He will grow up to be something fine, no doubt, and his spirit will rebel against having to spend his life watching his father's sheep. He may even win the race from Marathon. Another Greek who was a most interesting figure to us was a Lieutenant Ambroise Frantzis. He was in command of the mountain battery on the flat, round top of the high hill. On account of its height the place seemed much nearer to the sun than any other part of the world, and the heat there was three times as fierce as in the trenches below. When you had climbed to the top of this hill it was like standing on a roof-garden, or as though you were watching a naval battle from a fighting top of one of the battleships. The top of the hill was not unlike an immense circus ring in appearance. The piled-up earth around its circular edge gave that impression, and the glaring yellow wheat that was tramped into glaring yellow soil, and the blue ammunition-boxes scattered about, helped out the illusion. It was an exceedingly busy place, and the smoke drifted across it continually, hiding us from one another in a curtain of flying yellow dust, while over our heads the Turkish shells raced after each other so rapidly that they beat out the air like the branches of a tree in a storm. On account of its height, and the glaring heat, and the shells passing, and the Greek guns going off and then turning somersaults, it was not a place suited for meditation; but Ambroise Frantzis meditated there as though he were in his own study. He was a very young man and very shy, and he was too busy to consider his own safety, or to take time, as the others did, to show that he was not considering it. Some of the other officers stood up on the breastworks and called the attention of the men to what they were doing; but as they did not wish the men to follow their example in this, it was difficult to see what they expected to gain by their braggadocio. Frantzis was as unconcerned as an artist painting a big picture in his studio. The battle plain below him was his canvas, and his nine mountain guns were his paint brushes. And he painted out Turks and Turkish cannon with the same concentrated, serious expression of countenance that you see on the face of an artist when he bites one brush between his lips and with another wipes out a false line or a touch of the wrong color. You have seen an artist cock his head on one side, and shut one eye and frown at his canvas, and then select several brushes and mix different colors and hit the canvas a bold stroke, and then lean back to note the effect. Frantzis acted in just that way. He would stand with his legs apart and his head on one side, pulling meditatively at his pointed beard, and then taking a closer look through his field-glasses, would select the three guns he had decided would give him the effect he wanted to produce, and he would produce that effect. When the shot struck plump in the Turkish lines, and we could see the earth leap up into the air like geysers of muddy water, and each gunner would wave his cap and cheer, Frantzis would only smile uncertainly, and begin again, with the aid of his field-glasses, to puzzle out fresh combinations. The battle that had begun in a storm of hail ended on the first day in a storm of bullets that had been held in reserve by the Turks, and which let off just after sundown. They came from a natural trench, formed by the dried-up bed of a stream which lay just below the hill on which the first Greek trench was situated. There were bushes growing on the bank of the stream nearest to the Greek lines, and these hid the men who occupied it. Throughout the day there had been an irritating fire from this trench from what appeared to be not more than a dozen rifles, but we could see that it was fed from time to time with many boxes of ammunition, which were carried to it on the backs of mules from the Turkish position a half mile farther to the rear. Bass and a corporal took a great aversion to this little group of Turks, not because there were too many of them to be disregarded, but because they were so near; and Bass kept the corporal's services engaged in firing into it, and in discouraging the ammunition mules when they were being driven in that direction. Our corporal was a sharp-shooter, and, accordingly, felt his superiority to his comrades; and he had that cheerful contempt for his officers that all true Greek soldiers enjoy; and so he never joined in the volley-firing, but kept his ammunition exclusively for the dozen men behind the bushes and for the mules. He waged, as it were, a little battle on his own account. The other men rose as commanded and fired regular volleys, and sank back again, but he fixed his sights to suit his own idea of the range, and he rose when he was ready to do so, and fired whenever he thought best. When his officer, who kept curled up in the hollow of the trench, commanded him to lie down, he would frown and shake his head at the interruption, and paid no further attention to the order. He was as much alone as a hunter on a mountain peak stalking deer, and whenever he fired at the men in the bushes he would swear softly, and when he fired at the mules he would chuckle and laugh with delight and content. The mules had to cross a ploughed field in order to reach the bushes, and so we were able to mark where his bullets struck, and we could see them skip across the field, kicking up the dirt as they advanced, until they stopped the mule altogether, or frightened the man who was leading it into a disorderly retreat. It appeared later that instead of there being but twelve men in these bushes there were six hundred, and that they were hiding there until the sun set in order to make a final attack on the first trench. They had probably argued that at sunset the strain of the day's work would have told on the Greek _morale_, that the men's nerves would be jerking and their stomachs aching for food, and that they would be ready for darkness and sleep, and in no condition to repulse a fresh and vigorous attack. So, just as the sun sank, and the officers were counting the cost in dead and wounded, and the men were gathering up blankets and overcoats, and the firing from the Greek lines had almost ceased, there came a fierce rattle from the trench to the right of us, like a watch-dog barking the alarm, and the others took it up from all over the hill, and when we looked down into the plain below to learn what it meant, we saw it blue with men, who seemed to have sprung from the earth. They were clambering from the bed of the stream, breaking through the bushes, and forming into a long line, which, as soon as formed, was at once hidden at regular intervals by flashes of flame that seemed to leap from one gun-barrel to the next, as you have seen a current of electricity run along a line of gas-jets. In the dim twilight these flashes were much more blinding than they had been in the glare of the sun, and the crash of the artillery coming on top of the silence was the more fierce and terrible by the contrast. The Turks were so close on us that the first trench could do little to help itself, and the men huddled against it while their comrades on the surrounding hills fought for them, their volleys passing close above our heads, and meeting the rush of the Turkish bullets on the way, so that there was now one continuous whistling shriek, like the roar of the wind through the rigging of a ship in a storm. If a man had raised his arm above his head his hand would have been torn off. It had come up so suddenly that it was like two dogs, each springing at the throat of the other, and in a greater degree it had something of the sound of two wild animals struggling for life. Volley answered volley as though with personal hate--one crashing in upon the roll of the other, or beating it out of recognition with the bursting roar of heavy cannon. At the same instant all of the Turkish batteries opened with great, ponderous, booming explosions, and the little mountain guns barked and snarled and shrieked back at them, and the rifle volleys crackled and shot out blistering flames, while the air was filled with invisible express trains that shook and jarred it and crashed into one another, bursting and shrieking and groaning. It seemed as though you were lying in a burning forest, with giant tree trunks that had withstood the storms of centuries crashing and falling around your ears, and sending up great showers of sparks and flame. This lasted for five minutes or less, and then the death-grip seemed to relax, the volleys came brokenly, like a man panting for breath, the bullets ceased to sound with the hiss of escaping steam, and rustled aimlessly by, and from hill-top to hill-top the officers' whistles sounded as though a sportsman were calling off his dogs. The Turks withdrew into the coming night, and the Greeks lay back, panting and sweating, and stared open-eyed at one another, like men who had looked for a moment into hell, and had come back to the world again. The next day was like the first, except that by five o'clock in the afternoon the Turks appeared on our left flank, crawling across the hills like an invasion of great ants, and the Greek army that at Velestinos had made the two best and most dignified stands of the war withdrew upon Halmyros, and the Turks poured into the village and burned it, leaving nothing standing save two tall Turkish minarets that many years before, when Thessaly belonged to the Sultan, the Turks themselves had placed there. I--THE ROUGH RIDERS AT GUASIMAS On the day the American troops landed on the coast of Cuba, the Cubans informed General Wheeler that the enemy were intrenched at Guasimas, blocking the way to Santiago. Guasimas is not a village, nor even a collection of houses; it is the meeting place of two trails which join at the apex of a V, three miles from the seaport town of Siboney, and continue merged in a single trail to Santiago. General Wheeler, guided by the Cubans, reconnoitred this trail on the 23rd of June, and with the position of the enemy fully explained to him, returned to Siboney and informed General Young and Colonel Wood that on the following morning he would attack the Spanish position at Guasimas. It has been stated that at Guasimas, the Rough Riders were trapped in an ambush, but, as the plan was discussed while I was present, I know that so far from any ones running into an ambush, every one of the officers concerned had a full knowledge of where he would find the enemy, and what he was to do when he found him. That night no one slept, for until two o'clock in the morning, troops were still being disembarked in the surf, and two ships of war had their searchlights turned on the landing-place, and made Siboney as light as a ball-room. Back of the searchlights was an ocean white with moonlight, and on the shore red camp-fires, at which the half-drowned troops were drying their uniforms, and the Rough Riders, who had just marched in from Baiquiri, were cooking a late supper, or early breakfast of coffee and bacon. Below the former home of the Spanish comandante, which General Wheeler had made his head-quarters, lay the camp of the Rough Riders, and through it Cuban officers were riding their half-starved ponies, and scattering the ashes of the camp-fires. Below them was the beach and the roaring surf, in which a thousand or so naked men were assisting and impeding the progress shoreward of their comrades, in pontoons and shore boats, which were being hurled at the beach like sleds down a water chute. It was one of the most weird and remarkable scenes of the war, probably of any war. An army was being landed on an enemy's coast at the dead of night, but with the same cheers and shrieks and laughter that rise from the bathers at Coney Island on a hot Sunday. It was a pandemonium of noises. The men still to be landed from the "prison hulks," as they called the transports, were singing in chorus, the men already on shore were dancing naked around the camp-fires on the beach, or shouting with delight as they plunged into the first bath that had offered in seven days, and those in the launches as they were pitched head-first at the soil of Cuba, signalized their arrival by howls of triumph. On either side rose black overhanging ridges, in the lowland between were white tents and burning fires, and from the ocean came the blazing, dazzling eyes of the search-lights shaming the quiet moonlight. After three hours' troubled sleep in this tumult the Rough Riders left camp at five in the morning. With the exception of half a dozen officers they were dismounted, and carried their blanket rolls, haversacks, ammunition, and carbines. General Young had already started toward Guasimas the First and Tenth dismounted Cavalry, and according to the agreement of the night before had taken the eastern trail to our right, while the Rough Riders climbed the steep ridge above Siboney and started toward the rendezvous along the trail to the west, which was on high ground and a half mile to a mile distant from the trail along which General Young and his regulars were marching. There was a valley between us, and the bushes were so thick on both sides of our trail that it was not possible at any time, until we met at Guasimas, to distinguish the other column. As soon as the Rough Riders had reached the top of the ridge, not twenty minutes after they had left camp, which was the first opportunity that presented itself, Colonel Wood ordered Captain Capron to proceed with his troop in front of the column as an advance guard, and to choose a "point" of five men skilled as scouts and trailers. Still in advance of these he placed two Cuban scouts. The column then continued along the trail in single file. The Cubans were at a distance of two hundred and fifty yards; the "point" of five picked men under Sergeant Byrne and duty-Sergeant Fish followed them at a distance of a hundred yards, and then came Capron's troop of sixty men strung out in single file. No flankers were placed for the reason that the dense undergrowth and the tangle of vines that stretched from the branches of the trees to the bushes below made it a physical impossibility for man or beast to move forward except along the single trail. Colonel Wood rode at the head of the column, followed by two regular army officers who were members of General Wheeler's staff, a Cuban officer, and Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt. They rode slowly in consideration of the troopers on foot, who under a cruelly hot sun carried heavy burdens. To those who did not have to walk, it was not unlike a hunting excursion in our West; the scenery was beautiful and the view down the valley one of luxuriant peace. Roosevelt had never been in the tropics and Captain McCormick and I were talking back at him over our shoulders and at each other, pointing out unfamiliar trees and birds. Roosevelt thought it looked like a good deer country, as it once was; it reminded McCormick of Southern California; it looked to me like the trails in Central America. We advanced, talking in that fashion and in high spirits, and congratulating ourselves in being shut of the transport and on breathing fine mountain air again, and on the fact that we were on horseback. We agreed it was impossible to appreciate that we were really at war--that we were in the enemy's country. We had been riding in this pleasant fashion for an hour and a half with brief halts for rest, when Wood stopped the head of the column, and rode down the trail to meet Capron, who was coming back. Wood returned immediately, leading his horse, and said to Roosevelt: "Pass the word back to keep silence in the ranks." The place at which we had halted was where the trail narrowed, and proceeded sharply downward. There was on one side of it a stout barbed-wire fence of five strands. By some fortunate accident this fence had been cut just where the head of the column halted. On the left of the trail it shut off fields of high grass blocked at every fifty yards with great barricades of undergrowth and tangled trees and chapparal. On the other side of the trail there was not a foot of free ground; the bushes seemed absolutely impenetrable, as indeed they were later found to be. When we halted, the men sat down beside the trail and chewed the long blades of grass, or fanned the air with their hats. They had no knowledge of the situation such as their leaders possessed, and their only emotion was one of satisfaction at the chance the halt gave them to rest and to shift their packs. Wood again walked down the trail with Capron and disappeared, and one of the officers informed us that the scouts had seen the outposts of the enemy. It did not seem reasonable that the Spaniards, who had failed to attack us when we landed at Baiquiri, would oppose us until they could do so in force, so, personally, I doubted that there were any Spaniards nearer than Santiago. But we tied our horses to the wire fence, and Capron's troop knelt with carbines at the "Ready," peering into the bushes. We must have waited there, while Wood reconnoitred, for over ten minutes. Then he returned, and began deploying his troops out at either side of the trail. Capron he sent on down the trail itself. G Troop was ordered to beat into the bushes on the right, and K and A were sent over the ridge on which we stood down into the hollow to connect with General Young's column on the opposite side of the valley. F and E Troops were deployed in skirmish-line on the other side of the wire fence. Wood had discovered the enemy a few hundred yards from where he expected to find him, and so far from being "surprised," he had time, as I have just described, to get five of his troops into position before a shot was fired. The firing, when it came, started suddenly on our right. It sounded so close that--still believing we were acting on a false alarm, and that there were no Spaniards ahead of us--I guessed it was Capron's men firing at random to disclose the enemy's position. I ran after G Troop under Captain Llewellyn, and found them breaking their way through the bushes in the direction from which the volleys came. It was like forcing the walls of a maze. If each trooper had not kept in touch with the man on either hand he would have been lost in the thicket. At one moment the underbrush seemed swarming with our men, and the next, except that you heard the twigs breaking, and heavy breathing or a crash as a vine pulled some one down, there was not a sign of a human being anywhere. In a few minutes we broke through into a little open place in front of a dark curtain of vines, and the men fell on one knee and began returning the fire that came from it. The enemy's fire was exceedingly heavy, and his aim was excellent. We saw nothing of the Spaniards, except a few on the ridge across the valley. I happened to be the only one present with field glasses, and when I discovered this force on the ridge, and had made sure, by the cockades in their sombreros, that they were Spaniards and not Cubans, I showed them to Roosevelt. He calculated they were five hundred yards from us, and ordered the men to fire on them at that range. Through the two hours of fighting that followed, although men were falling all around us, the Spaniards on the ridge were the only ones that many of us saw. But the fire against us was not more than eighty yards away, and so hot that our men could only lie flat in the grass and return it in that position. It was at this moment that our men believed they were being attacked by Capron's troop, which they imagined must have swung to the right, and having lost its bearings and hearing them advancing through the underbrush, had mistaken them for the enemy. They accordingly ceased firing and began shouting in order to warn Capron that he was shooting at his friends. This is the foundation for the statement that the Rough Riders had fired on each other, which they did not do then or at any other time. Later we examined the relative position of the trail which Capron held, and the position of G Troop, and they were at right angles to one another. Capron could not possibly have fired into us at any time, unless he had turned directly around in his tracks and aimed up the very trail he had just descended. Advancing, he could no more have hit us than he could have seen us out of the back of his head. When we found many hundred spent cartridges of the Spaniards a hundred yards in front of G Troop's position, the question as to who had fired on us was answered. It was an exceedingly hot corner. The whole troop was gathered in the little open place blocked by the network of grape-vines and tangled bushes before it. They could not see twenty feet on three sides of them, but on the right hand lay the valley, and across it came the sound of Young's brigade, who were apparently heavily engaged. The enemy's fire was so close that the men could not hear the word of command, and Captain Llewellyn and Lieutenant Greenway, unable to get their attention, ran among them, batting them with their sombreros to make them cease firing. Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt ran up just then, bringing with him Lieutenant Woodbury Kane and ten troopers from K Troop. Roosevelt lay down in the grass beside Llewellyn and consulted with him eagerly. Kane was smiling with the charming content of a perfectly happy man. When Captain Llewellyn told him his men were not needed, and to rejoin his troop, he led his detail over the edge of the hill on which we lay. As he disappeared below the crest he did not stoop to avoid the bullets, but walked erect, still smiling. Roosevelt pointed out that it was impossible to advance farther on account of the network of wild grape-vines that masked the Spaniards from us, and that we must cross the trail and make to the left. The shouts the men had raised to warn Capron had established our position to the enemy, and the firing was now fearfully accurate. Sergeant Russell, who in his day had been a colonel on a governor's staff, was killed, and the other sergeant was shot through the wrist. In the space of three minutes nine men were lying on their backs helpless. Before we got away, every third man was killed, or wounded. We drew off slowly to the left, dragging the wounded with us. Owing to the low aim of the enemy, we were forced to move on our knees and crawl. Even then men were hit. One man near me was shot through the head. Returning later to locate the body and identify him, I found that the buzzards had torn off his lips and his eyes. This mutilation by these hideous birds was, without doubt, what Admiral Sampson mistook for the work of the Spaniards, when the bodies of the marines at Guantanamo were found disfigured. K Troop meantime had deployed into the valley under the fire from the enemy on the ridge. It had been ordered to establish communication with General Young's column, and while advancing and firing on the ridge, Captain Jenkins sent the guidon bearer back to climb the hill and wave his red and white banner where Young's men could see it. The guidon bearer had once run for Congress on the gold ticket in Arizona, and, as some one said, was naturally the man who should have been selected for a forlorn hope. His flag brought him instantly under a heavy fire, but he continued waving it until the Tenth Cavalry on the other side of the valley answered, and the two columns were connected by a skirmish-line composed of K Troop and A, under Captain "Bucky" O'Neill. G Troop meanwhile had hurried over to the left, and passing through the opening in the wire fence had spread out into open order. It followed down after Captain Luna's troop and D and E Troops, which were well already in advance. Roosevelt ran forward and took command of the extreme left of this line. Wood was walking up and down along it, leading his horse, which he thought might be of use in case he had to move quickly to alter his original formation. His plan, at present, was to spread out his men so that they would join Young on the right, and on the left swing around until they flanked the enemy. K and A Troops had already succeeded in joining hands with Young's column across the valley, and as they were capable of taking care of themselves, Wood was bending his efforts to keep his remaining four companies in a straight line and revolving them around the enemy's "end." It was in no way an easy thing to do. The men were at times wholly hidden from each other, and from him; probably at no one time did he see more than two of his troops together. It was only by the firing that he could tell where his men lay, and that they were always advancing. The advances were made in quick, desperate rushes--sometimes the ground gained was no more than a man covers in sliding for a base. At other times half a troop would rise and race forward and then burrow deep in the hot grass and fire. On this side of the line there was an occasional glimpse of the enemy. But for a great part of the time the men shot at the places from where the enemy's fire seemed to come, aiming low and answering in steady volleys. The fire discipline was excellent. The prophets of evil of the Tampa Bay Hotel had foretold that the cowboys would shoot as they chose, and, in the field, would act independently of their officers. As it turned out, the cowboys were the very men who waited most patiently for the officers to give the word of command. At all times the movement was without rest, breathless and fierce, like a cane-rush, or a street fight. After the first three minutes every man had stripped as though for a wrestling match, throwing off all his impedimenta but his cartridge-belt and canteen. Even then the sun handicapped their strength cruelly. The enemy was hidden in the shade of the jungle, while they, for every thicket they gained, had to fight in the open, crawling through grass which was as hot as a steam bath, and with their flesh and clothing torn by thorns and the sword-like blade of the Spanish "bayonet." The glare of the sun was full in their eyes and as fierce as a lime-light. When G Troop passed on across the trail to the left I stopped at the place where the column had first halted--it had been converted into a dressing station and the wounded of G Troop were left there in the care of the hospital stewards. A tall, gaunt young man with a cross on his arm was just coming back up the trail. His head was bent, and by some surgeon's trick he was carrying a wounded man much heavier than himself across his shoulders. As I stepped out of the trail he raised his head, and smiled and nodded, and left me wondering where I had seen him before, smiling in the same cheery, confident way and moving in that same position. I knew it could not have been under the same conditions, and yet he was certainly associated with another time of excitement and rush and heat. Then I remembered him. As now he had been covered with blood and dirt and perspiration, but then he wore a canvas jacket and the man he carried on his shoulders was trying to hold him back from a white-washed line. And I recognized the young doctor, with the blood bathing his breeches, as "Bob" Church, of Princeton. That was only one of four badly wounded men he carried that day on his shoulders over a half-mile of trail that stretched from the firing-line back to the dressing station and under an unceasing fire. {3} As the senior surgeon was absent he had chief responsibility that day for all the wounded, and that so few of them died is greatly due to this young man who went down into the firing-line and pulled them from it, and bore them out of danger. The comic paragraphers who wrote of the members of the Knickerbocker Club and the college swells of the Rough Riders and of their imaginary valets and golf clubs, should, in decency, since the fight at Guasimas apologize. For the same spirit that once sent these men down a white-washed field against their opponents' rush line was the spirit that sent Church, Channing, Devereux, Ronalds, Wrenn, Cash, Bull, Lamed, Goodrich, Greenway, Dudley Dean, and a dozen others through the high hot grass at Guasimas, not shouting, as their friends the cowboys did, but each with his mouth tightly shut, with his eyes on the ball, and moving in obedience to the captain's signals. Judging from the sound, our firing-line now seemed to be half a mile in advance of the place where the head of the column had first halted. This showed that the Spaniards had been driven back at least three hundred yards from their original position. It was impossible to see any of our men in the field, so I ran down the trail with the idea that it would lead me back to the troop I had left when I had stopped at the dressing station. The walk down that trail presented one of the most grewsome pictures of the war. It narrowed as it descended; it was for that reason the enemy had selected that part of it for the attack, and the vines and bushes interlaced so closely above it that the sun could not come through. The rocks on either side were spattered with blood and the rank grass was matted with it. Blanket rolls, haversacks, carbines, and canteens had been abandoned all along its length. It looked as though a retreating army had fled along it, rather than that one troop had fought its way through it to the front. Except for the clatter of the land-crabs, those hideous orchid-colored monsters that haunt the places of the dead, and the whistling of the bullets in the trees, the place was as silent as a grave. For the wounded lying along its length were as still as the dead beside them. The noise of the loose stones rolling under my feet brought a hospital steward out of the brush, and he called after me: "Lieutenant Thomas is badly wounded in here, and we can't move him. We want to carry him out of the sun some place, where there is shade and a breeze." Thomas was the first lieutenant of Capron's troop. He is a young man, large and powerfully built. He was shot through the leg just below the trunk, and I found him lying on a blanket half naked and covered with blood, and with his leg bound in tourniquets made of twigs and pocket-handkerchiefs. It gave one a thrill of awe and wonder to see how these cowboy surgeons, with a stick that one would use to light a pipe and with the gaudy 'kerchiefs they had taken from their necks, were holding death at bay. The young officer was in great pain and tossing and raving wildly. When we gathered up the corners of his blanket and lifted him, he tried to sit upright, and cried out, "You're taking me to the front, aren't you? You said you would. They've killed my captain--do you understand? They've killed Captain Capron. The --- Mexicans! They've killed my captain." The troopers assured him they were carrying him to the firing-line, but he was not satisfied. We stumbled over the stones and vines, bumping his wounded body against the ground and leaving a black streak in the grass behind us, but it seemed to hurt us more than it did him, for he sat up again clutching at us imploringly with his bloody hands. "For God's sake, take me to the front," he begged. "Do you hear? I order you; damn you, I order--We must give them hell; do you hear? we must give them hell. They've killed Capron. They've killed my captain." The loss of blood at last mercifully silenced him, and when we had reached the trail he had fainted and I left them kneeling around him, their grave boyish faces filled with sympathy and concern. Only fifty feet from him and farther down the trail I passed his captain, with his body propped against Church's knee and with his head fallen on the surgeon's shoulder. Capron was always a handsome, soldierly looking man--some said that he was the most soldierly looking of any of the young officers in the army--and as I saw him then death had given him a great dignity and nobleness. He was only twenty-eight years old, the age when life has just begun, but he rested his head on the surgeon's shoulder like a man who knew he was already through with it and that, though they might peck and mend at the body, he had received his final orders. His breast and shoulders were bare, and as the surgeon cut the tunic from him the sight of his great chest and the skin, as white as a girl's, and the black open wound against it made the yellow stripes and the brass insignia on the tunic, strangely mean and tawdry. Fifty yards farther on, around a turn in the trail, behind a rock, a boy was lying with a bullet wound between his eyes. His chest was heaving with short, hoarse noises which I guessed were due to some muscular action entirely, and that he was virtually dead. I lifted him and gave him some water, but it would not pass through his fixed teeth. In the pocket of his blouse was a New Testament with the name Fielder Dawson, Mo., scribbled in it in pencil. While I was writing it down for identification, a boy as young as himself came from behind me down the trail. "It is no use," he said; "the surgeon has seen him; he says he is just the same as dead. He is my bunkie; we only met two weeks ago at San Antonio; but he and me had got to be such good friends--But there's nothing I can do now." He threw himself down on the rock beside his bunkie, who was still breathing with that hoarse inhuman rattle, and I left them, the one who had been spared looking down helplessly with the tears creeping across his cheeks. The firing was quite close now, and the trail was no longer filled with blanket rolls and haversacks, nor did pitiful, prostrate figures lie in wait behind each rock. I guessed this must mean that I now was well in advance of the farthest point to which Capron's troop had moved, and I was running forward feeling confident that I must be close on our men, when I saw the body of a sergeant blocking the trail and stretched at full length across it. Its position was a hundred yards in advance of that of any of the others--it was apparently the body of the first man killed. After death the bodies of some men seem to shrink almost instantly within themselves; they become limp and shapeless, and their uniforms hang upon them strangely. But this man, who was a giant in life, remained a giant in death--his very attitude was one of attack; his fists were clinched, his jaw set, and his eyes, which were still human, seemed fixed with resolve. He was dead, but he was not defeated. And so Hamilton Fish died as he had lived--defiantly, running into the very face of the enemy, standing squarely upright on his legs instead of crouching, as the others called to him to do, until he fell like a column across the trail. "God gives," was the motto on the watch I took from his blouse, and God could not have given him a nobler end; to die, in the fore-front of the first fight of the war, quickly, painlessly, with a bullet through the heart, with his regiment behind him, and facing the enemies of his country. The line at this time was divided by the trail into two wings. The right wing, composed of K and A Troops, was advancing through the valley, returning the fire from the ridge as it did so, and the left wing, which was much the longer of the two, was swinging around on the enemy's right flank, with its own right resting on the barbed-wire fence. I borrowed a carbine from a wounded man, and joined the remnant of L Troop which was close to the trail. This troop was then commanded by Second Lieutenant Day, who on account of his conduct that morning and at the battle of San Juan later, when he was shot through the arm, was promoted to be captain of L Troop, or, as it was later officially designated, Capron's troop. He was walking up and down the line as unconcernedly as though we were at target practice, and an Irish sergeant, Byrne, was assisting him by keeping up a continuous flow of comments and criticisms that showed the keenest enjoyment of the situation. Byrne was the only man I noticed who seemed to regard the fight as in any way humorous. For at Guasimas, no one had time to be flippant, or to exhibit any signs of braggadocio. It was for all of them, from the moment it started, through the hot, exhausting hour and a half that it lasted, a most serious proposition. The conditions were exceptional. The men had made a night march the evening before, had been given but three hours' troubled sleep on the wet sand, and had then been marched in full equipment uphill and under a cruelly hot sun, directly into action. And eighty per cent. of them had never before been under fire. Nor had one man in the regiment ever fired a Krag-Jorgensen carbine until he fired it at a Spaniard, for their arms had been issued to them so soon before sailing that they had only drilled with them without using cartridges. To this handicap was also added the nature of the ground and the fact that our men could not see their opponents. Their own men fell or rolled over on every side, shot down by an invisible enemy, with no one upon whom they could retaliate, with no sign that the attack might not go on indefinitely. Yet they never once took a step backward, but advanced grimly, cleaning a bush or thicket of its occupants before charging it, and securing its cover for themselves, and answering each volley with one that sounded like an echo of the first. The men were panting for breath; the sweat ran so readily into their eyes that they could not see the sights of their guns; their limbs unused to such exertion after seven days of cramped idleness on the troop-ship, trembled with weakness and the sun blinded and dazzled them; but time after time they rose and staggered forward through the high grass, or beat their way with their carbines against the tangle of vines and creepers. A mile and a half of territory was gained foot by foot in this fashion, the three Spanish positions carried in that distance being marked by the thousands of Mauser cartridges that lay shining and glittering in the grass and behind the barricades of bushes. But this distance had not been gained without many losses, for every one in the regiment was engaged. Even those who, on account of the heat, had dropped out along the trail, as soon as the sound of the fight reached them, came limping to the front--and plunged into the firing-line. It was the only place they could go--there was no other line. With the exception of Church's dressing station and its wounded there were no reserves. Among the first to be wounded was the correspondent, Edward Marshall, of the New York _Journal_, who was on the firing-line to the left. He was shot through the body near the spine, and when I saw him he was suffering the most terrible agonies, and passing through a succession of convulsions. He nevertheless, in his brief moments of comparative peace, bore himself with the utmost calm, and was so much a soldier to duty that he continued writing his account of the fight until the fight itself was ended. His courage was the admiration of all the troopers, and he was highly commended by Colonel Wood in the official account of the engagement. [Picture: Wounded Rough Riders coming over the hill at Siboney. Head of column of Second Infantry going to support the Rough Riders, June 24th] Nothing so well illustrated how desperately each man was needed, and how little was his desire to withdraw, as the fact that the wounded lay where they fell until the hospital stewards found them. Their comrades did not use them as an excuse to go to leave the firing-line. I have watched other fights, where the men engaged were quite willing to unselfishly bear the wounded from the zone of danger. The fight had now lasted an hour, and the line had reached a more open country, with a slight incline upward toward a wood, on the edge of which was a ruined house. This house was a former distillery for _aguardiente_, and was now occupied in force by the enemy. Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt on the far left was moving up his men with the intention of taking this house on the flank; Wood, who was all over the line, had the same objective point in his mind. The troop commanders had a general idea that the distillery was the key to the enemy's position, and were all working in that direction. It was extremely difficult for Wood and Roosevelt to communicate with the captains, and after the first general orders had been given them they relied upon the latter's intelligence to pull them through. I do not suppose Wood, out of the five hundred engaged, saw more than thirty of his men at any one time. When he had passed one troop, except for the noise of its volley firing, it was immediately lost to him in the brush, and it was so with the next. Still, so excellent was the intelligence of the officers, and so ready the spirit of the men, that they kept an almost perfect alignment, as was shown when the final order came to charge in the open fields. The advance upon the ruined building was made in stubborn, short rushes, sometimes in silence, and sometimes firing as we ran. The order to fire at will was seldom given, the men waiting patiently for the officers' signal, and then answering in volleys. Some of the men who were twice Day's age begged him to let them take the enemy's impromptu fort on the run, but he answered them tolerantly like spoiled children, and held them down until there was a lull in the enemy's fire, when he would lead them forward, always taking the advance himself. By the way they made these rushes, it was easy to tell which men were used to hunting big game in the West and which were not. The Eastern men broke at the word, and ran for the cover they were directed to take like men trying to get out of the rain, and fell panting on their faces, while the Western trappers and hunters slipped and wriggled through the grass like Indians; dodging from tree trunk to tree trunk, and from one bush to another. They fell into line at the same time with the others, but while doing so they had not once exposed themselves. Some of the escapes were little short of miraculous. The man on my right, Champneys Marshall, of Washington, had one bullet pass through his sleeve, and another pass through his shirt, where it was pulled close to his spine. The holes where the ball entered and went out again were clearly cut. Another man's skin was slightly burned by three bullets in three distinct lines, as though it had been touched for an instant by the lighted end of a cigar. Greenway was shot through this shirt across the breast, and Roosevelt was so close to one bullet, when it struck a tree, that it filled his eyes and ears with tiny splinters. Major Brodie and Lieutenant Thomas were both wounded within a few feet of Colonel Wood, and his color-sergeant, Wright, who followed close at his heels, was clipped three times in the head and neck, and four bullets passed through the folds of the flag he carried. One trooper, Rowland, of Deming, was shot through the lower ribs; he was ordered by Roosevelt to fall back to the dressing station, but there Church told him there was nothing he could do for him then, and directed him to sit down until he could be taken to the hospital at Siboney. Rowland sat still for a short time, and then remarked restlessly, "I don't seem to be doing much good here," and picking up his carbine, returned to the firing-line. There Roosevelt found him. "I thought I ordered you to the rear," he demanded. "Yes, sir, you did," Rowland said, "but there didn't seem to be much doing back there." After the fight he was sent to Siboney with the rest of the wounded, but two days later he appeared in camp. He had marched from Siboney, a distance of six miles, and uphill all the way, carrying his carbine, canteen, and cartridge-belt. "I thought you were in hospital," Wood said. "I was," Rowland answered sheepishly, "but I didn't seem to be doing any good there." They gave him up as hopeless, and he continued his duties and went into the fight of the San Juan hills with the hole still through his ribs. Another cowboy named Heffner, when shot through the body, asked to be propped up against a tree with his canteen and cartridge-belt beside him, and the last his troop saw of him he was seated alone grimly firing over their heads in the direction of the enemy. Early in the fight I came upon Church attending to a young cowboy, who was shot through the chest. The entrance to his wound was so small that Church could not insert enough of the gauze packing to stop the flow of blood. "I'm afraid I'll have to make this hole larger," he said to the boy, "or you'll bleed to death." "All right," the trooper answered, "I guess you know your business." The boy stretched out on his back and lay perfectly quiet while Church, with a pair of curved scissors, cut away the edges of the wound. His patient neither whimpered nor swore, but stared up at the sun in silence. The bullets were falling on every side, and the operation was a hasty one, but the trooper made no comment until Church said, "We'd better get out of this; can you stand being carried?" "Do you think you can carry me?" the trooper asked. "Yes." "Well," exclaimed the boy admiringly, "you certainly know your business!" Another of the Rough Riders was brought to the dressing station with a shattered ankle, and Church, after bandaging it, gave him his choice of riding down to Siboney on a mule, or of being carried, a day later, on a litter. "If you think you can manage to ride the mule with that broken foot," he said, "you can start at once, but if you wait until to-morrow, when I can spare the men, you can be carried all the way." The cowboy preferred to start at once, so six hospital stewards lifted him and dropped him on the mule, and into a huge Mexican saddle. He stuck his wounded ankle into one stirrup, and his untouched one into the other, and gathered up the reins. "Does it pain you? Can you stand it?" Church asked anxiously. The cowboy turned and smiled down upon him with amused disdain. "Stand _this_?" he cried. "Why, this is just like getting money from home." Toward the last, the firing from the enemy sounded less near, and the bullets passed much higher. Roosevelt, who had picked up a carbine and was firing to give the direction to the others, determined upon a charge. Wood, at the other end of the line, decided at the same time upon the same manoeuvre. It was called "Wood's bluff" afterward, for he had nothing to back it with; while to the enemy it looked as though his whole force was but the skirmish-line in advance of a regiment. The Spaniards naturally could not believe that this thin line which suddenly broke out of the bushes and from behind trees and came cheering out into the hot sunlight was the entire fighting force against it. They supposed the regiment was coming close on its heels, and as Spanish troops hate being rushed as a cat hates water, they fired a few parting volleys and broke and ran. The cheering had the same invigorating effect on our own side as a cold shower; it was what first told half the men where the other half were, and it made every individual man feel better. As we knew it was only a bluff, the first cheer was wavering, but the sound of our own voices was so comforting that the second cheer was a howl of triumph. As it was, the Spaniards thought the Rough Riders had already disregarded all the rules of war. "When we fired a volley," one of the prisoners said later, "instead of falling back they came forward. That is not the way to fight, to come closer at every volley." And so, when instead of retreating on each volley, the Rough Riders rushed at them, cheering and filling the hot air with wild cowboy yells, the dismayed enemy retreated upon Santiago, where he announced he had been attacked by the entire American army. One of the residents of Santiago asked one of the soldiers if those Americans fought well. "_Well_!" he replied, "they tried to catch us with their hands!" I have not attempted to give any account of General Young's fight on our right, which was equally desperate, and, owing to the courage of the colored troops of the Tenth in storming a ridge, equally worthy of praise. But it has seemed better not to try and tell of anything I did not see, but to limit myself to the work of the Rough Riders, to whom, after all, the victory was due, as it was owing to Colonel Wood's charge, which took the Spaniards in flank, that General Wheeler and General Young were able to advance, their own stubborn attack in front having failed to dislodge the enemy from his rifle-pits. According to the statement of the enemy, who had every reason not to exaggerate the size of his own force, 4,000 Spaniards were engaged in this action. The Rough Riders numbered 534, and General Young's force numbered 464. The American troops accordingly attacked a force over four times their own number intrenched behind rifle-pits and bushes in a mountain pass. In spite of the smokeless powder used by the Spaniards, which hid their position, the Rough Riders routed them out of it, and drove them back from three different barricades until they made their last stand in the ruined distillery, whence they finally drove them by assault. The eager spirit in which this was accomplished is best described in the Spanish soldier's answer to the inquiring civilian, "They tried to catch us with their hands." The Rough Riders should adopt it as their motto. II--THE BATTLE OF SAN JUAN HILL After the Guasimas fight on June 24, the army was advanced along the single trail which leads from Siboney on the coast to Santiago. Two streams of excellent water run parallel with this trail for short distances, and some eight miles from the coast crossed it in two places. Our outposts were stationed at the first of these fords, the Cuban outposts a mile and a half farther on at the ford nearer Santiago, where the stream made a sharp turn at a place called El Poso. Another mile and a half of trail extended from El Poso to the trenches of San Juan. The reader should remember El Poso, as it marked an important starting-point against San Juan on the eventful first of July. For six days the army was encamped on either side of the trail for three miles back from the outposts. The regimental camps touched each other, and all day long the pack-trains carrying the day's rations passed up and down between them. The trail was a sunken wagon road, where it was possible, in a few places, for two wagons to pass at one time, but the greater distances were so narrow that there was but just room for a wagon, or a loaded mule-train, to make its way. The banks of the trail were three or four feet high, and when it rained it was converted into a huge gutter, with sides of mud, and with a liquid mud a foot deep between them. The camps were pitched along the trail as near the parallel stream as possible, and in the occasional places where there was rich, high grass. At night the men slept in dog tents, open at the front and back, and during the day spent their time under the shade of trees along the trail, or on the banks of the stream. Sentries were placed at every few feet along these streams to guard them from any possible pollution. For six days the army rested in this way, for as an army moves and acts only on its belly, and as the belly of this army was three miles long, it could advance but slowly. This week of rest, after the cramped life of the troop-ship, was not ungrateful, although the rations were scarce and there was no tobacco, which was as necessary to the health of the men as their food. During this week of waiting, the chief excitement was to walk out a mile and a half beyond the outposts to the hill of El Poso, and look across the basin that lay in the great valley which leads to Santiago. The left of the valley was the hills which hide the sea. The right of the valley was the hills in which nestle the village of El Caney. Below El Poso, in the basin, the dense green forest stretched a mile and a half to the hills of San Juan. These hills looked so quiet and sunny and well kept that they reminded one of a New England orchard. There was a blue bungalow on a hill to the right, a red bungalow higher up on the right, and in the centre the block-house of San Juan, which looked like a Chinese pagoda. Three-quarters of a mile behind them, with a dip between, were the long white walls of the hospital and barracks of Santiago, wearing thirteen Red Cross flags, and, as was pointed out to the foreign attaches later, two six-inch guns a hundred yards in advance of the Red Cross flags. It was so quiet, so fair, and so prosperous looking that it breathed of peace. It seemed as though one might, without accident, walk in and take dinner at the Venus Restaurant, or loll on the benches in the Plaza, or rock in one of the great bent-wood chairs around the patio of the Don Carlos Club. But, on the 27th of June, a long, yellow pit opened in the hill-side of San Juan, and in it we could see straw sombreros rising and bobbing up and down, and under the shade of the block-house, blue-coated Spaniards strolling leisurely about or riding forth on little white ponies to scamper over the hills. Officers of every regiment, _attaches_ of foreign countries, correspondents, and staff officers daily reported the fact that the rifle-pits were growing in length and in number, and that in plain sight from the hill of El Poso the enemy was intrenching himself at San Juan, and at the little village of El Caney to the right, where he was marching through the streets. But no artillery was sent to El Poso hill to drop a shell among the busy men at work among the trenches, or to interrupt the street parades in El Caney. For four days before the American soldiers captured the same rifle-pits at El Caney and San Juan, with a loss of two thousand men, they watched these men diligently preparing for their coming, and wondered why there was no order to embarrass or to end these preparations. On the afternoon of June 30, Captain Mills rode up to the tent of Colonel Wood, and told him that on account of illness, General Wheeler and General Young had relinquished their commands, and that General Sumner would take charge of the Cavalry Division; that he, Colonel Wood, would take command of General Young's brigade, and Colonel Carroll, of General Sumner's brigade. "You will break camp and move forward at four o'clock," he said. It was then three o'clock, and apparently the order to move forward at four had been given to each regiment at nearly the same time, for they all struck their tents and stepped down into the trail together. It was as though fifteen regiments were encamped along the sidewalks of Fifth Avenue and were all ordered at the same moment to move into it and march downtown. If Fifth Avenue were ten feet wide, one can imagine the confusion. General Chaffee was at General Lawton's head-quarters, and they stood apart whispering together about the march they were to take to El Caney. Just over their heads the balloon was ascending for the first time and its great glistening bulk hung just above the tree tops, and the men in different regiments, picking their way along the trail, gazed up at it open-mouthed. The head-quarters camp was crowded. After a week of inaction the army, at a moment's notice, was moving forward, and every one had ridden in haste to learn why. There were _attaches_, in strange uniforms, self-important Cuban generals, officers from the flagship _New York_, and an army of photographers. At the side of the camp, double lines of soldiers passed slowly along the two paths of the muddy road, while, between them, aides dashed up and down, splashing them with dirty water, and shouting, "You will come up at once, sir." "You will not attempt to enter the trail yet, sir." "General Sumner's compliments, and why are you not in your place?" Twelve thousand men, with their eyes fixed on a balloon, and treading on each other's heels in three inches of mud, move slowly, and after three hours, it seemed as though every man in the United States was under arms and stumbling and slipping down that trail. The lines passed until the moon rose. They seemed endless, interminable; there were cavalry mounted and dismounted, artillery with cracking whips and cursing drivers, Rough Riders in brown, and regulars, both black and white, in blue. Midnight came, and they were still stumbling and slipping forward. General Sumner's head-quarters tent was pitched to the right of El Poso hill. Below us lay the basin a mile and a half in length, and a mile and a half wide, from which a white mist was rising. Near us, drowned under the mist, seven thousand men were sleeping, and, farther to the right, General Chaffee's five thousand were lying under the bushes along the trails to El Caney, waiting to march on it and eat it up before breakfast. The place hardly needs a map to explain it. The trails were like a pitchfork, with its prongs touching the hills of San Juan. The long handle of the pitchfork was the trail over which we had just come, the joining of the handle and the prongs were El Poso. El Caney lay half-way along the right prong, the left one was the trail down which, in the morning, the troops were to be hurled upon San Juan. It was as yet an utterly undiscovered country. Three miles away, across the basin of mist, we could see the street lamps of Santiago shining over the San Juan hills. Above us, the tropical moon hung white and clear in the dark purple sky, pierced with millions of white stars. As we turned in, there was just a little something in the air which made saying "good-night" a gentle farce, for no one went to sleep immediately, but lay looking up at the stars, and after a long silence, and much restless turning on the blanket which we shared together, the second lieutenant said: "So, if anything happens to me, to-morrow, you'll see she gets them, won't you?" Before the moon rose again, every sixth man who had slept in the mist that night was either killed or wounded; but the second lieutenant was sitting on the edge of a Spanish rifle-pit, dirty, sweaty, and weak for food, but victorious, and the unknown she did not get them. El Caney had not yet thrown off her blanket of mist before Capron's battery opened on it from a ridge two miles in the rear. The plan for the day was that El Caney should fall in an hour. The plan for the day is interesting chiefly because it is so different from what happened. According to the plan the army was to advance in two divisions along the two trails. Incidentally, General Lawton's division was to pick up El Caney, and when El Caney was eliminated, his division was to continue forward and join hands on the right with the divisions of General Sumner and General Kent. The army was then to rest for that night in the woods, half a mile from San Juan. On the following morning it was to attack San Juan on the two flanks, under cover of artillery. The objection to this plan, which did not apparently suggest itself to General Shafter, was that an army of twelve thousand men, sleeping within five hundred yards of the enemy's rifle-pits, might not unreasonably be expected to pass a bad night. As we discovered the next day, not only the five hundred yards, but the whole basin was covered by the fire from the rifle-pits. Even by daylight, when it was possible to seek some slight shelter, the army could not remain in the woods, but according to the plan it was expected to bivouac for the night in those woods, and in the morning to manoeuvre and deploy and march through them to the two flanks of San Juan. How the enemy was to be hypnotized while this was going forward it is difficult to understand. According to this programme, Capron's battery opened on El Caney and Grimes's battery opened on the pagoda-like block-house of San Juan. The range from El Poso was exactly 2,400 yards, and the firing, as was discovered later, was not very effective. The battery used black powder, and, as a result, after each explosion the curtain of smoke hung over the gun for fully a minute before the gunners could see the San Juan trenches, which was chiefly important because for a full minute it gave a mark to the enemy. The hill on which the battery stood was like a sugar-loaf. Behind it was the farm-house of El Poso, the only building in sight within a radius of a mile, and in it were Cuban soldiers and other non-combatants. The Rough Riders had been ordered to halt in the yard of the farm-house and the artillery horses were drawn up in it, under the lee of the hill. The First and Tenth dismounted Cavalry were encamped a hundred yards from the battery along the ridge. They might as sensibly have been ordered to paint the rings in a target while a company was firing at the bull's-eye. To our first twenty shots the enemy made no reply; when they did it was impossible, owing to their using smokeless powder, to locate their guns. Their third shell fell in among the Cubans in the block-house and among the Rough Riders and the men of the First and Tenth Cavalry, killing some and wounding many. These casualties were utterly unnecessary and were due to the stupidity of whoever placed the men within fifty yards of guns in action. [Picture: Grime's battery at El Poso. The third Spanish shell fell in among the Cubans in the block-house and among the Rough Riders] A quarter of an hour after the firing began from El Poso one of General Shafter's aides directed General Sumner to advance with his division down the Santiago trail, and to halt at the edge of the woods. "What am I to do then?" asked General Sumner. "You are to await further orders," the aide answered. As a matter of fact and history this was probably the last order General Sumner received from General Shafter, until the troops of his division had taken the San Juan hills, as it became impossible to get word to General Shafter, the trail leading to his head-quarters tent, three miles in the rear, being blocked by the soldiers of the First and Tenth dismounted Cavalry, and later, by Lawton's division. General Sumner led the Sixth, Third, and Ninth Cavalry and the Rough Riders down the trail, with instructions for the First and Tenth to follow. The trail, virgin as yet from the foot of an American soldier, was as wide as its narrowest part, which was some ten feet across. At places it was as wide as Broadway, but only for such short distances that it was necessary for the men to advance in column, in double file. A maze of underbrush and trees on either side was all but impenetrable, and when the officers and men had once assembled into the basin, they could only guess as to what lay before them, or on either flank. At the end of a mile the country became more open, and General Sumner saw the Spaniards intrenched a half-mile away on the sloping hills. A stream, called the San Juan River, ran across the trail at this point, and another stream crossed it again two hundred yards farther on. The troops were halted at this first stream, some crossing it, and others deploying in single file to the right. Some were on the banks of the stream, others at the edge of the woods in the bushes. Others lay in the high grass which was so high that it stopped the wind, and so hot that it almost choked and suffocated those who lay in it. The enemy saw the advance and began firing with pitiless accuracy into the jammed and crowded trail and along the whole border of the woods. There was not a single yard of ground for a mile to the rear which was not inside the zone of fire. Our men were ordered not to return the fire but to lie still and wait for further orders. Some of them could see the rifle-pits of the enemy quite clearly and the men in them, but many saw nothing but the bushes under which they lay, and the high grass which seemed to burn when they pressed against it. It was during this period of waiting that the greater number of our men were killed. For one hour they lay on their rifles staring at the waving green stuff around them, while the bullets drove past incessantly, with savage insistence, cutting the grass again and again in hundreds of fresh places. Men in line sprang from the ground and sank back again with a groan, or rolled to one side clinging silently to an arm or shoulder. Behind the lines hospital stewards passed continually, drawing the wounded back to the streams, where they laid them in long rows, their feet touching the water's edge and their bodies supported by the muddy bank. Up and down the lines, and through the fords of the streams, mounted aides drove their horses at a gallop, as conspicuous a target as the steeple on a church, and one after another paid the price of his position and fell from his horse wounded or dead. Captain Mills fell as he was giving an order, shot through the forehead behind both eyes; Captain O'Neill, of the Rough Riders, as he said, "There is no Spanish bullet made that can kill me." Steel, Swift, Henry, each of them was shot out of his saddle. Hidden in the trees above the streams, and above the trail, sharp-shooters and guerillas added a fresh terror to the wounded. There was no hiding from them. Their bullets came from every side. Their invisible smoke helped to keep their hiding-places secret, and in the incessant shriek of shrapnel and the spit of the Mausers, it was difficult to locate the reports of their rifles. They spared neither the wounded nor recognized the Red Cross; they killed the surgeons and the stewards carrying the litters, and killed the wounded men on the litters. A guerilla in a tree above us shot one of the Rough Riders in the breast while I was helping him carry Captain Morton Henry to the dressing-station, the ball passing down through him, and a second shot, from the same tree, barely missed Henry as he lay on the ground where we had dropped him. He was already twice wounded and so covered with blood that no one could have mistaken his condition. The surgeons at work along the stream dressed the wounds with one eye cast aloft at the trees. It was not the Mauser bullets they feared, though they passed continuously, but too high to do their patients further harm, but the bullets of the sharp-shooters which struck fairly in among them, splashing in the water and scattering the pebbles. The sounds of the two bullets were as different as is the sharp pop of a soda-water bottle from the buzzing of an angry wasp. For a time it seemed as though every second man was either killed or wounded; one came upon them lying behind the bush, under which they had crawled with some strange idea that it would protect them, or crouched under the bank of the stream, or lying on their stomachs and lapping up the water with the eagerness of thirsty dogs. As to their suffering, the wounded were magnificently silent, they neither complained nor groaned nor cursed. "I've got a punctured tire," was their grim answer to inquiries. White men and colored men, veterans and recruits and volunteers, each lay waiting for the battle to begin or to end so that he might be carried away to safety, for the wounded were in as great danger after they were hit as though they were in the firing line, but none questioned nor complained. I came across Lieutenant Roberts, of the Tenth Cavalry, lying under the roots of a tree beside the stream with three of his colored troopers stretched around him. He was shot through the intestines, and each of the three men with him was shot in the arm or leg. They had been overlooked or forgotten, and we stumbled upon them only by the accident of losing our way. They had no knowledge as to how the battle was going or where their comrades were or where the enemy was. At any moment, for all they knew, the Spaniards might break through the bushes about them. It was a most lonely picture, the young lieutenant, half naked, and wet with his own blood, sitting upright beside the empty stream, and his three followers crouching at his feet like three faithful watch-dogs, each wearing his red badge of courage, with his black skin tanned to a haggard gray, and with his eyes fixed patiently on the white lips of his officer. When the white soldiers with me offered to carry him back to the dressing-station, the negroes resented it stiffly. "If the Lieutenant had been able to move, we would have carried him away long ago," said the sergeant, quite overlooking the fact that his arm was shattered. "Oh, don't bother the surgeons about me," Roberts added, cheerfully. "They must be very busy. I can wait." As yet, with all these killed and wounded, we had accomplished nothing--except to obey orders--which was to await further orders. The observation balloon hastened the end. It came blundering down the trail, and stopped the advance of the First and Tenth Cavalry, and was sent up directly over the heads of our men to observe what should have been observed a week before by scouts and reconnoitring parties. A balloon, two miles to the rear, and high enough in the air to be out of range of the enemy's fire may some day prove itself to be of use and value. But a balloon on the advance line, and only fifty feet above the tops of the trees, was merely an invitation to the enemy to kill everything beneath it. And the enemy responded to the invitation. A Spaniard might question if he could hit a man, or a number of men, hidden in the bushes, but had no doubt at all as to his ability to hit a mammoth glistening ball only six hundred yards distant, and so all the trenches fired at it at once, and the men of the First and Tenth, packed together directly behind it, received the full force of the bullets. The men lying directly below it received the shrapnel which was timed to hit it, and which at last, fortunately, did hit it. This was endured for an hour, an hour of such hell of fire and heat, that the heat in itself, had there been no bullets, would have been remembered for its cruelty. Men gasped on their backs, like fishes in the bottom of a boat, their heads burning inside and out, their limbs too heavy to move. They had been rushed here and rushed there wet with sweat and wet with fording the streams, under a sun that would have made moving a fan an effort, and they lay prostrate, gasping at the hot air, with faces aflame, and their tongues sticking out, and their eyes rolling. All through this the volleys from the rifle-pits sputtered and rattled, and the bullets sang continuously like the wind through the rigging in a gale, shrapnel whined and broke, and still no order came from General Shafter. Captain Howse, of General Sumner's staff, rode down the trail to learn what had delayed the First and Tenth, and was hailed by Colonel Derby, who was just descending from the shattered balloon. "I saw men up there on those hills," Colonel Derby shouted; "they are firing at our troops." That was part of the information contributed by the balloon. Captain Howse's reply is lost to history. General Kent's division, which, according to the plan, was to have been held in reserve, had been rushed up in the rear of the First and Tenth, and the Tenth had deployed in skirmish order to the right. The trail was now completely blocked by Kent's division. Lawton's division, which was to have re-enforced on the right, had not appeared, but incessant firing from the direction of El Caney showed that he and Chaffee were fighting mightily. The situation was desperate. Our troops could not retreat, as the trail for two miles behind them was wedged with men. They could not remain where they were, for they were being shot to pieces. There was only one thing they could do--go forward and take the San Juan hills by assault. It was as desperate as the situation itself. To charge earthworks held by men with modern rifles, and using modern artillery, until after the earthworks have been shaken by artillery, and to attack them in advance and not in the flanks, are both impossible military propositions. But this campaign had not been conducted according to military rules, and a series of military blunders had brought seven thousand American soldiers into a chute of death from which there was no escape except by taking the enemy who held it by the throat and driving him out and beating him down. So the generals of divisions and brigades stepped back and relinquished their command to the regimental officers and the enlisted men. "We can do nothing more," they virtually said. "There is the enemy." Colonel Roosevelt, on horseback, broke from the woods behind the line of the Ninth, and finding its men lying in his way, shouted: "If you don't wish to go forward, let my men pass." The junior officers of the Ninth, with their negroes, instantly sprang into line with the Rough Riders, and charged at the blue block-house on the right. I speak of Roosevelt first because, with General Hawkins, who led Kent's division, notably the Sixth and Sixteenth Regulars, he was, without doubt, the most conspicuous figure in the charge. General Hawkins, with hair as white as snow, and yet far in advance of men thirty years his junior, was so noble a sight that you felt inclined to pray for his safety; on the other hand, Roosevelt, mounted high on horseback, and charging the rifle-pits at a gallop and quite alone, made you feel that you would like to cheer. He wore on his sombrero a blue polka-dot handkerchief, a la Havelock, which, as he advanced, floated out straight behind his head, like a guidon. Afterward, the men of his regiment who followed this flag, adopted a polka-dot handkerchief as the badge of the Rough Riders. These two officers were notably conspicuous in the charge, but no one can claim that any two men, or any one man, was more brave or more daring, or showed greater courage in that slow, stubborn advance, than did any of the others. Some one asked one of the officers if he had any difficulty in making his men follow him. "No," he answered, "I had some difficulty in keeping up with them." As one of the brigade generals said: "San Juan was won by the regimental officers and men. We had as little to do as the referee at a prize-fight who calls 'time.' We called 'time' and they did the fighting." I have seen many illustrations and pictures of this charge on the San Juan hills, but none of them seem to show it just as I remember it. In the picture-papers the men are running uphill swiftly and gallantly, in regular formation, rank after rank, with flags flying, their eyes aflame, and their hair streaming, their bayonets fixed, in long, brilliant lines, an invincible, overpowering weight of numbers. Instead of which I think the thing which impressed one the most, when our men started from cover, was that they were so few. It seemed as if some one had made an awful and terrible mistake. One's instinct was to call to them to come back. You felt that some one had blundered and that these few men were blindly following out some madman's mad order. It was not heroic then, it seemed merely absurdly pathetic. The pity of it, the folly of such a sacrifice was what held you. They had no glittering bayonets, they were not massed in regular array. There were a few men in advance, bunched together, and creeping up a steep, sunny hill, the tops of which roared and flashed with flame. The men held their guns pressed across their chests and stepped heavily as they climbed. Behind these first few, spreading out like a fan, were single lines of men, slipping and scrambling in the smooth grass, moving forward with difficulty, as though they were wading waist high through water, moving slowly, carefully, with strenuous effort. It was much more wonderful than any swinging charge could have been. They walked to greet death at every step, many of them, as they advanced, sinking suddenly or pitching forward and disappearing in the high grass, but the others waded on, stubbornly, forming a thin blue line that kept creeping higher and higher up the hill. It was as inevitable as the rising tide. It was a miracle of self-sacrifice, a triumph of bull-dog courage, which one watched breathless with wonder. The fire of the Spanish riflemen, who still stuck bravely to their posts, doubled and trebled in fierceness, the crests of the hills crackled and burst in amazed roars, and rippled with waves of tiny flame. But the blue line crept steadily up and on, and then, near the top, the broken fragments gathered together with a sudden burst of speed, the Spaniards appeared for a moment outlined against the sky and poised for instant flight, fired a last volley, and fled before the swift-moving wave that leaped and sprang after them. The men of the Ninth and the Rough Riders rushed to the block-house together, the men of the Sixth, of the Third, of the Tenth Cavalry, of the Sixth and Sixteenth Infantry, fell on their faces along the crest of the hills beyond, and opened upon the vanishing enemy. They drove the yellow silk flags of the cavalry and the flag of their country into the soft earth of the trenches, and then sank down and looked back at the road they had climbed and swung their hats in the air. And from far overhead, from these few figures perched on the Spanish rifle-pits, with their flags planted among the empty cartridges of the enemy, and overlooking the walls of Santiago, came, faintly, the sound of a tired, broken cheer. III--THE TAKING OF COAMO This is the inside story of the surrender, during the Spanish War, of the town of Coamo. It is written by the man to whom the town surrendered. Immediately after the surrender this same man became Military Governor of Coamo. He held office for fully twenty minutes. Before beginning this story the reader must forget all he may happen to know of this particular triumph of the Porto Rican Expedition. He must forget that the taking of Coamo has always been credited to Major-General James H. Wilson, who on that occasion commanded Captain Anderson's Battery, the Sixteenth Pennsylvania, Troop C of Brooklyn, and under General Ernst, the Second and Third Wisconsin Volunteers. He must forget that in the records of the War Department all the praise, and it is of the highest, for this victory is bestowed upon General Wilson and his four thousand soldiers. Even the writer of this, when he cabled an account of the event to his paper, gave, with every one else, the entire credit to General Wilson. And ever since his conscience has upbraided him. His only claim for tolerance as a war correspondent has been that he always has stuck to the facts, and now he feels that in the sacred cause of history his friendship and admiration for General Wilson, that veteran of the Civil, Philippine, and Chinese Wars, must no longer stand in the way of his duty as an accurate reporter. He no longer can tell a lie. He must at last own up that he himself captured Coamo. [Picture: Officers watching the artillery play on Coamo. Drawn by F. C. Yohn from a photograph by the Author] On the morning of the 9th of August, 1898, the Sixteenth Pennsylvania Volunteers arrived on the outskirts of that town. In order to get there they had spent the night in crawling over mountain trails and scrambling through streams and ravines. It was General Wilson's plan that by this flanking night march the Sixteenth Pennsylvania would reach the road leading from Coamo to San Juan in time to cut off the retreat of the Spanish garrison, when General Wilson, with the main body, attacked it from the opposite side. At seven o'clock in the morning General Wilson began the frontal attack by turning loose the artillery on a block-house, which threatened his approach, and by advancing the Wisconsin Volunteers. The cavalry he sent to the right to capture Los Banos. At eight o'clock, from where the main body rested, two miles from Coamo, we could hear the Sixteenth Pennsylvania open its attack and instantly become hotly engaged. The enemy returned the fire fiercely, and the firing from both sides at once became so severe that it was evident the Pennsylvania Volunteers either would take the town without the main body, or that they would greatly need its assistance. The artillery was accordingly advanced one thousand yards and the infantry was hurried forward. The Second Wisconsin approached Coamo along the main road from Ponce, the Third Wisconsin through fields of grass to the right of the road, until the two regiments met at the ford by which the Banos road crosses the Coamo River. But before they met, from a position near the artillery, I had watched through my glasses the Second Wisconsin with General Ernst at its head advancing along the main road, and as, when I saw them, they were near the river, I guessed they would continue across the bridge and that they soon would be in the town. As the firing from the Sixteenth still continued, it seemed obvious that General Ernst would be the first general officer to enter Coamo, and to receive its surrender. I had never seen five thousand people surrender to one man, and it seemed that, if I were to witness that ceremony, my best plan was to abandon the artillery and, as quickly as possible, pursue the Second Wisconsin. I did not want to share the spectacle of the surrender with my brother correspondents, so I tried to steal away from the three who were present. They were Thomas F. Millard, Walstein Root of the _Sun_, and Horace Thompson. By dodging through a coffee _central_ I came out a half mile from them and in advance of the Third Wisconsin. There I encountered two "boy officers," Captain John C. Breckenridge and Lieutenant Fred. S. Titus, who had temporarily abandoned their thankless duties in the Commissariat Department in order to seek death or glory in the skirmish-line. They wanted to know where I was going, and when I explained, they declared that when Coamo surrendered they also were going to be among those present. So we slipped away from the main body and rode off as an independent organization. But from the bald ridge, where the artillery was still hammering the town, the three correspondents and Captain Alfred Paget, Her Majesty's naval attache, observed our attempt to steal a march on General Wilson's forces, and pursued us and soon overtook us. We now were seven, or to be exact, eight, for with Mr. Millard was "Jimmy," who in times of peace sells papers in Herald Square, and in times of war carries Mr. Millard's copy to the press post. We were much nearer the ford than the bridge, so we waded the "drift" and started on a gallop along the mile of military road that lay between us and Coamo. The firing from the Sixteenth Pennsylvania had slackened, but as we advanced it became sharper, more insistent, and seemed to urge us to greater speed. Across the road were dug rough rifle-pits which had the look of having been but that moment abandoned. What had been intended for the breakfast of the enemy was burning in pots over tiny fires, little heaps of cartridges lay in readiness upon the edges of each pit, and an arm-chair, in which a sentry had kept a comfortable lookout, lay sprawling in the middle of the road. The huts that faced it were empty. The only living things we saw were the chickens and pigs in the kitchen-gardens. On either hand was every evidence of hasty and panic-stricken flight. We rejoiced at these evidences of the fact that the Wisconsin Volunteers had swept all before them. Our rejoicings were not entirely unselfish. It was so quiet ahead that some one suggested the town had already surrendered. But that would have been too bitter a disappointment, and as the firing from the further side of Coamo still continued, we refused to believe it, and whipped the ponies into greater haste. We were now only a quarter of a mile distant from the built-up portion of Coamo, where the road turned sharply into the main street of the town. Captain Paget, who in the absence of the British military attache on account of sickness, accompanied the army as a guest of General Wilson, gave way to thoughts of etiquette. "Will General Wilson think I should have waited for him?" he shouted. The words were jolted out of him as he rose in the saddle. The noise of the ponies' hoofs made conversation difficult. I shouted back that the presence of General Ernst in the town made it quite proper for a foreign attache to enter it. "It must have surrendered by now," I shouted. "It's been half an hour since Ernst crossed the bridge." At these innocent words, all my companions tugged violently at their bridles and shouted "Whoa!" "Crossed the bridge?" they yelled. "There is no bridge! The bridge is blown up! If he hasn't crossed by the ford, he isn't in the town!" Then, in my turn, I shouted "Whoa!" But by now the Porto Rican ponies had decided that this was the race of their lives, and each had made up his mind that, Mexican bit or no Mexican bit, until he had carried his rider first into the town of Coamo, he would not be halted. As I tugged helplessly at my Mexican bit, I saw how I had made my mistake. The volunteers, on finding the bridge destroyed, instead of marching upon Coamo had turned to the ford, the same ford which we had crossed half an hour before they reached it. They now were behind us. Instead of a town which had surrendered to a thousand American soldiers, we, seven unarmed men and Jimmy, were being swept into a hostile city as fast as the enemy's ponies could take us there. Breckenridge and Titus hastily put the blame upon me. "If we get into trouble with the General for this," they shouted, "it will be your fault. You told us Ernst was in the town with a thousand men." I shouted back that no one regretted the fact that he was not more keenly than I did myself. Titus and Breckenridge each glanced at a new, full-dress sword. "We might as well go in," they shouted, "and take it anyway!" I decided that Titus and Breckenridge were wasted in the Commissariat Department. The three correspondents looked more comfortable. "If you officers go in," they cried, "the General can't blame us," and they dug their spurs into the ponies. "Wait!" shouted Her Majesty's representative. "That's all very well for you chaps, but what protects me if the Admiralty finds out I have led a charge on a Spanish garrison?" But Paget's pony refused to consider the feelings of the Lords of the Admiralty. As successfully Paget might have tried to pull back a row-boat from the edge of Niagara. And, moreover, Millard, in order that Jimmy might be the first to reach Ponce with despatches, had mounted him on the fastest pony in the bunch, and he already was far in the lead. His sporting instincts, nursed in the pool-rooms of the Tenderloin and at Guttenburg, had sent him three lengths to the good. It never would do to have a newsboy tell in New York that he had beaten the correspondents of the papers he sold in the streets; nor to permit commissioned officers to take the dust of one who never before had ridden on anything but a cable car. So we all raced forward and, bunched together, swept into the main street of Coamo. It was gratefully empty. There were no American soldiers, but, then, neither were there any Spanish soldiers. Across the street stretched more rifle-pits and barricades of iron pipes, but in sight there was neither friend nor foe. On the stones of the deserted street the galloping hoofs sounded like the advance of a whole regiment of cavalry. Their clatter gave us a most comfortable feeling. We almost could imagine the townspeople believing us to be the Rough Riders themselves and fleeing before us. And then, the empty street seemed to threaten an ambush. We thought hastily of sunken mines, of soldiers crouching behind the barriers, behind the houses at the next corner, of Mausers covering us from the latticed balconies overhead. Until at last, when the silence had become alert and menacing, a lonely man dashed into the middle of the street, hurled a white flag in front of us, and then dived headlong under the porch of a house. The next instant, as though at a signal, a hundred citizens, each with a white flag in both hands, ran from cover, waving their banners, and gasping in weak and terror-shaken tones, "Vivan los Americanos." We tried to pull up, but the ponies had not yet settled among themselves which of us had won, and carried us to the extreme edge of the town, where a precipice seemed to invite them to stop, and we fell off into the arms of the Porto Ricans. They brought us wine in tin cans, cigars, borne in the aprons and mantillas of their women-folk, and demijohns of native rum. They were abject, trembling, tearful. They made one instantly forget that the moment before he had been extremely frightened. One of them spoke to me the few words of Spanish with which I had an acquaintance. He told me he was the Alcalde, and that he begged to surrender into my hands the town of Coamo. I led him instantly to one side. I was afraid that if I did not take him up he would surrender to Paget or to Jimmy. I bade him conduct me to his official residence. He did so, and gave me the key to the _cartel_, a staff of office of gold and ebony, and the flag of the town, which he had hidden behind his writing-desk. It was a fine Spanish flag with the coat of arms embroidered in gold. I decided that, with whatever else I might part, that flag would always be mine, that the chance of my again receiving the surrender of a town of five thousand people was slender, and that this token would be wrapped around me in my coffin. I accordingly hid it in my poncho and strapped it to my saddle. Then I appointed a hotel-keeper, who spoke a little English, as my official interpreter, and told the Alcalde that I was now Military Governor, Mayor, and Chief of Police, and that I wanted the seals of the town. He gave me a rubber stamp with a coat of arms cut in it, and I wrote myself three letters, which, to insure their safe arrival, I addressed to three different places, and stamped them with the rubber seals. In time all three reached me, and I now have them as documentary proof of the fact that for twenty minutes I was Military Governor and Mayor of Coamo. During that brief administration I detailed Titus and Breckenridge to wigwag the Sixteenth Pennsylvania that we had taken the town, and that it was now safe for them to enter. In order to compromise Paget they used his red silk handkerchief. Root I detailed to conciliate the inhabitants by drinking with every one of them. He tells me he carried out my instructions to the letter. I also settled one assault and battery case, and put the chief offender under arrest. At least, I told the official interpreter to inform him that he was under arrest, but as I had no one to guard him he grew tired of being under arrest and went off to celebrate his emancipation from the rule of Spain. My administration came to an end in twenty minutes, when General Wilson rode into Coamo at the head of his staff and three thousand men. He wore a white helmet, and he looked the part of the conquering hero so satisfactorily that I forgot I was Mayor and ran out into the street to snap a picture of him. He looked greatly surprised and asked me what I was doing in his town. The tone in which he spoke caused me to decide that, after all, I would not keep the flag of Coamo. I pulled it off my saddle and said: "General, it's too long a story to tell you now, but here is the flag of the town. It's the first Spanish flag"--and it was--"that has been captured in Porto Rico." General Wilson smiled again and accepted the flag. He and about four thousand other soldiers think it belongs to them. But the truth will out. Some day the bestowal on the proper persons of a vote of thanks from Congress, a pension, or any other trifle, like prize-money, will show the American people to whom that flag really belongs. I know that in time the glorious deed of the seven heroes of Coamo, or eight, if you include "Jimmy," will be told in song and story. Some one else will write the song. This is the story. IV--THE PASSING OF SAN JUAN HILL When I was a boy I thought battles were fought in waste places selected for the purpose. I argued from the fact that when our school nine wished to play ball it was forced into the suburbs to search for a vacant lot. I thought opposing armies also marched out of town until they reached some desolate spot where there were no window panes, and where their cannon-balls would hurt no one but themselves. Even later, when I saw battles fought among villages, artillery galloping through a cornfield, garden walls breached for rifle fire, and farm-houses in flames, it always seemed as though the generals had elected to fight in such surroundings through an inexcusable striving after theatrical effect--as though they wished to furnish the war correspondents with a chance for descriptive writing. With the horrors of war as horrible as they are without any aid from these contrasts, their presence always seemed not only sinful but bad art; as unnecessary as turning a red light on the dying gladiator. There are so many places which are scenes set apart for battles--places that look as though Nature had condemned them for just such sacrifices. Colenso, with its bare kopjes and great stretch of veldt, is one of these, and so, also, is Spion Kop, and, in Manchuria, Nan Shan Hill. The photographs have made all of us familiar with the vast, desolate approaches to Port Arthur. These are among the waste places of the earth--barren, deserted, fit meeting grounds only for men whose object in life for the moment is to kill men. Were you shown over one of these places, and told, "A battle was fought here," you would answer, "Why, of course!" But down in Cuba, outside of Santiago, where the United States army fought its solitary and modest battle with Spain, you might many times pass by San Juan Hill and think of it, if you thought of it at all, as only a pretty site for a bungalow, as a place obviously intended for orchards and gardens. On July 1st, twelve years ago, when the American army came upon it out of the jungle the place wore a partial disguise. It still was an irregular ridge of smiling, sunny hills with fat, comfortable curves, and in some places a steep, straight front. But above the steepest, highest front frowned an aggressive block-house, and on all the slopes and along the sky-line were rows of yellow trenches, and at the base a cruel cat's cradle of barbed wire. It was like the face of a pretty woman behind the bars of a visor. I find that on the day of the fight twelve years ago I cabled my paper that San Juan Hill reminded the Americans of "a sunny orchard in New England." That was how it may have looked when the regulars were climbing up the steep front to capture the block-house, and when the cavalry and Rough Riders, having taken Kettle Hill, were running down its opposite slope, past the lake, to take that crest of San Juan Hill which lies to the right of the block-house. It may then have looked like a sunny New England orchard, but before night fell the intrenching tools had lent those sunny slopes "a fierce and terrible aspect." And after that, hour after hour, and day after day, we saw the hill eaten up by our trenches, hidden by a vast laundry of shelter tents, and torn apart by bomb-proofs, their jutting roofs of logs and broken branches weighed down by earth and stones and looking like the pit mouths to many mines. That probably is how most of the American army last saw San Juan Hill, and that probably is how it best remembers it--as a fortified camp. That was twelve years ago. When I revisited it, San Juan Hill was again a sunny, smiling farm land, the trenches planted with vegetables, the roofs of the bomb-proofs fallen in and buried beneath creeping vines, and the barbed-wire entanglements holding in check only the browsing cattle. San Juan Hill is not a solitary hill, but the most prominent of a ridge of hills, with Kettle Hill a quarter of a mile away on the edge of the jungle and separated from the ridge by a tiny lake. In the local nomenclature Kettle Hill, which is the name given to it by the Rough Riders, has always been known as San Juan Hill, with an added name to distinguish it from the other San Juan Hill of greater renown. The days we spent on those hills were so rich in incident and interest and were filled with moments of such excitement, of such pride in one's fellow-countrymen, of pity for the hurt and dying, of laughter and good-fellowship, that one supposed he might return after even twenty years and recognize every detail of the ground. But a shorter time has made startling and confusing changes. Now a visitor will find that not until after several different visits, and by walking and riding foot by foot over the hills, can he make them fall into line as he thinks he once knew them. Immediately around San Juan Hill itself there has been some attempt made to preserve the ground as a public park. A barbed-wire fence, with a gateway, encircles the block-house, which has been converted into a home for the caretaker of the park, and then, skirting the road to Santiago to include the tree under which the surrender was arranged, stretches to the left of the block-house to protect a monument. This monument was erected by Americans to commemorate the battle. It is now rapidly falling to pieces, but there still is enough of it intact to show the pencilled scribblings and autographs of tourists who did not take part in the battle, but who in this public manner show that they approve of its results. The public park is less than a quarter of a mile square. Except for it no other effort has been made either by Cubans or Americans to designate the lines that once encircled and menaced Santiago, and Nature, always at her best under a tropical sun, has done all in her power to disguise and forever obliterate the scene of the army's one battle. Those features which still remain unchanged are very few. The Treaty Tree, now surrounded by a tall fence, is one, the block-house is another. The little lake in which, even when the bullets were dropping, the men used to bathe and wash their clothes, the big iron sugar kettle that gave a new name to Kettle Hill, and here and there a trench hardly deeper than a ploughed furrow, and nearly hidden by growing plants, are the few landmarks that remain. Of the camps of Generals Chaffee, Lawton, Bates, Sumner, and Wheeler, of Colonels Leonard Wood and Theodore Roosevelt, there are but the slightest traces. The Bloody Bend, as some call it, in the San Juan River, as some call that stream, seems to have entirely disappeared. At least, it certainly was not where it should have been, and the place the hotel guides point out to unsuspecting tourists bears not the slightest physical resemblance to that ford. In twelve years, during one of which there has been in Santiago the most severe rainfall in sixty years, the San Juan stream has carried away its banks and the trees that lined them, and the trails that should mark where the ford once crossed have so altered and so many new ones have been added, that the exact location of the once famous dressing station is now most difficult, if not impossible, to determine. To establish the sites of the old camping grounds is but little less difficult. The head-quarters of General Wheeler are easy to recognize, for the reason that the place selected was in a hollow, and the most unhealthy spot along the five miles of intrenchments. It is about thirty yards from where the road turns to rise over the ridge to Santiago, and all the water from the hill pours into it as into a rain barrel. It was here that Troop G, Third Cavalry, under Major Hardee, as it was Wheeler's escort, was forced to bivouac, and where one-third of its number came down with fever. The camp of General Sam Sumner was some sixty yards to the right of the head-quarters of General Wheeler, on the high shoulder of the hill just above the camp of the engineers, who were on the side of the road opposite. The camps of Generals Chaffee, Lawton, Hawkins, Ludlow, and the positions and trenches taken and held by the different regiments under them one can place only relatively. One reason for this is that before our army attacked the hills all the underbrush and small trees that might conceal the advance of our men had been cleared away by the Spaniards, leaving the hill, except for the high crest, comparatively bare. To-day the hills are thick with young trees and enormous bushes. The alteration in the landscape is as marked as is the difference between ground cleared for golf and the same spot planted with corn and fruit-trees. Of all the camps, the one that to-day bears the strongest evidences of its occupation is that of the Rough Riders. A part of the camp of that regiment, which was situated on the ridge some hundred feet from the Santiago road, was pitched under a clump of shade trees, and to-day, even after seven years, the trunks of these trees bear the names and initials of the men who camped beneath them. {4} These men will remember that when they took this hill they found that the fortifications beneath the trees were partly made from the foundations of an adobe house. The red tiles from its roof still litter the ground. These tiles and the names cut in the bark of the trees determine absolutely the site of one-half of the camp, but the other half, where stood Tiffany's quick-firing gun and Parker's Gatling, has been almost obliterated. The tree under which Colonel pitched his tent I could not discover, and the trenches in which he used to sit with his officers and with the officers from the regiments of the regular army are now levelled to make a kitchen-garden. Sometimes the ex-President is said to have too generously given office and promotion to the friends he made in Cuba. These men he met in the trenches were then not necessarily his friends. To-day they are not necessarily his friends. They are the men the free life of the rifle-pits enabled him to know and to understand as the settled relations of home life and peace would never have permitted. At that time none of them guessed that the "amateur colonel," to whom they talked freely as to a comrade, would be their Commander-in-Chief. They did not suspect that he would become even the next Governor of New York, certainly not that in a few years he would be the President of the United States. So they showed themselves to him frankly, unconsciously. They criticised, argued, disagreed, and he became familiar with the views, character, and worth of each, and remembered. The seeds planted in those half-obliterated trenches have borne greater results than ever will the kitchen-garden. The kitchen-garden is immediately on the crest of the hill, and near it a Cuban farmer has built a shack of mud and twigs and cultivated several acres of land. On Kettle Hill there are three more such shacks, and over all the hills the new tenants have strung stout barbed-wire fences and made new trails and reared wooden gateways. It was curious to find how greatly these modern improvements confused one's recollection of the landscape, and it was interesting, also, to find how the presence on the hills of 12,000 men and the excitement of the time magnified distances and disarranged the landscape. During the fight I walked along a portion of the Santiago road, and for many years I always have thought of that walk as extending over immense distances. It started from the top of San Juan Hill beside the block-house, where I had climbed to watch our artillery in action. By a mistake, the artillery had been sent there, and it remained exposed on the crest only about three minutes. During that brief moment the black powder it burned drew upon it the fire of every rifle in the Spanish line. To load his piece, each of our men was forced to crawl to it on his stomach, rise on one elbow in order to shove in the shell and lock the breech, and then, still flat on the ground, wriggle below the crest. In the three minutes three men were wounded and two killed; and the guns were withdrawn. I also withdrew. I withdrew first. Indeed, all that happened after the first three seconds of those three minutes is hearsay, for I was in the Santiago road at the foot of the hill and retreating briskly. This road also was under a cross-fire, which made it stretch in either direction to an interminable distance. I remember a government teamster driving a Studebaker wagon filled with ammunition coming up at a gallop out of this interminable distance and seeking shelter against the base of the hill. Seated beside him was a small boy, freckled and sunburned, a stowaway from one of the transports. He was grandly happy and excited, and his only fear was that he was not "under fire." From our coign of safety, with our backs to the hill, the teamster and I assured him that, on that point, he need feel no morbid doubt. But until a bullet embedded itself in the blue board of the wagon he was not convinced. Then with his jack-knife he dug it out and shouted with pleasure. "I guess the folks will have to believe I was in a battle now," he said. That coign of safety ceasing to be a coign of safety caused us to move on in search of another, and I came upon Sergeant Borrowe blocking the road with his dynamite gun. He and his brother and three regulars were busily correcting a hitch in its mechanism. An officer carrying an order along the line halted his sweating horse and gazed at the strange gun with professional knowledge. "That must be the dynamite gun I have heard so much about," he shouted. Borrowe saluted and shouted assent. The officer, greatly interested, forgot his errand. "I'd like to see you fire it once," he said eagerly. Borrowe, delighted at the chance to exhibit his toy to a professional soldier, beamed with equal eagerness. "In just a moment, sir," he said; "this shell seems to have jammed a bit." The officer, for the first time seeing the shell stuck in the breech, hurriedly gathered up his reins. He seemed to be losing interest. With elaborate carelessness I began to edge off down the road. "Wait," Borrowe begged; "we'll have it out in a minute." Suddenly I heard the officer's voice raised wildly. "What--what," he gasped, "is that man doing with that axe?" "He's helping me to get out this shell," said Borrowe. "Good God!" said the officer. Then he remembered his errand. Until last year, when I again met young Borrowe gayly disporting himself at a lawn-tennis tournament at Mattapoisett, I did not know whether his brother's method of removing dynamite with an axe had been entirely successful. He said it worked all right. At the turn of the road I found Colonel Leonard Wood and a group of Rough Riders, who were busily intrenching. At the same moment Stephen Crane came up with "Jimmy" Hare, the man who has made the Russian-Japanese War famous. Crane walked to the crest and stood there as sharply outlined as a semaphore, observing the enemy's lines, and instantly bringing upon himself and us the fire of many Mausers. With every one else, Wood was crouched below the crest and shouted to Crane to lie down. Crane, still standing, as though to get out of ear-shot, moved away, and Wood again ordered him to lie down. "You're drawing the fire on these men," Wood commanded. Although the heat--it was the 1st of July in the tropics--was terrific, Crane wore a long India rubber rain-coat and was smoking a pipe. He appeared as cool as though he were looking down from a box at a theatre. I knew that to Crane, anything that savored of a pose was hateful, so, as I did not want to see him killed, I called, "You're not impressing any one by doing that, Crane." As I hoped he would, he instantly dropped to his knees. When he crawled over to where we lay, I explained, "I knew that would fetch you," and he grinned, and said, "Oh, was that it?" A captain of the cavalry came up to Wood and asked permission to withdraw his troop from the top of the hill to a trench forty feet below the one they were in. "They can't possibly live where they are now," he explained, "and they're doing no good there, for they can't raise their heads to fire. In that lower trench they would be out of range themselves and would be able to fire back." "Yes," said Wood, "but all the other men in the first trench would see them withdraw, and the moral effect would be bad. They needn't attempt to return the enemy's fire, but they must not retreat." The officer looked as though he would like to argue. He was a West Point graduate and a full-fledged captain in the regular army. To him, Wood, in spite of his volunteer rank of colonel, which that day, owing to the illness of General Young, had placed him in command of a brigade, was still a doctor. But discipline was strong in him, and though he looked many things, he rose from his knees and grimly saluted. But at that moment, without waiting for the permission of any one, the men leaped out of the trench and ran. It looked as though they were going to run all the way to the sea, and the sight was sickening. But they had no intention of running to the sea. They ran only to the trench forty feet farther down and jumped into it, and instantly turning, began pumping lead at the enemy. Since five that morning Wood had been running about on his feet, his clothes stuck to him with sweat and the mud and water of forded streams, and as he rose he limped slightly. "My, but I'm tired!" he said, in a tone of the most acute surprise, and as though that fact was the only one that was weighing on his mind. He limped over to the trench in which the men were now busily firing off their rifles and waved a riding-crop he carried at the trench they had abandoned. He was standing as Crane had been standing, in silhouette against the sky-line. "Come back, boys," we heard him shouting. "The other men can't withdraw, and so you mustn't. It looks bad. Come on, get out of that!" What made it more amusing was that, although Wood had, like every one else, discarded his coat and wore a strange uniform of gray shirt, white riding-breeches, and a cowboy Stetson, with no insignia of rank, not even straps pinned to his shirt, still the men instantly accepted his authority. They looked at him on the crest of the hill, waving his stick persuasively at the grave-like trench at his feet, and then with a shout scampered back to it. [Picture: Rough Riders in the trenches] [Picture: The same spot as it appears to-day. The figure in the picture is standing in what remains of the trench] After that, as I had a bad attack of sciatica and no place to sleep and nothing to eat, I accepted Crane's offer of a blanket and coffee at his bivouac near El Poso. On account of the sciatica I was not able to walk fast, and, although for over a mile of the way the trail was under fire, Crane and Hare each insisted on giving me an arm, and kept step with my stumblings. Whenever I protested and refused their sacrifice and pointed out the risk they were taking they smiled as at the ravings of a naughty child, and when I lay down in the road and refused to budge unless they left me, Crane called the attention of Hare to the effect of the setting sun behind the palm-trees. To the reader all these little things that one remembers seem very little indeed, but they were vivid at the moment, and I have always thought of them as stretching over a long extent of time and territory. Before I revisited San Juan I would have said that the distance along the road from the point where I left the artillery to where I joined Wood was three-quarters of a mile. When I paced it later I found the distance was about seventy-five yards. I do not urge my stupidity or my extreme terror as a proof that others would be as greatly confused, but, if only for the sake of the stupid ones, it seems a pity that the landmarks of San Juan should not be rescued from the jungle, and a few sign-posts placed upon the hills. It is true that the great battles of the Civil War and those of the one in Manchuria, where the men killed and wounded in a day outnumber all those who fought on both sides at San Juan, make that battle read like a skirmish. But the Spanish War had its results. At least it made Cuba into a republic, and so enriched or burdened us with colonies that our republic changed into something like an empire. But I do not urge that. It will never be because San Juan changed our foreign policy that people will visit the spot, and will send from it picture postal cards. The human interest alone will keep San Juan alive. The men who fought there came from every State in our country and from every class of our social life. We sent there the best of our regular army, and with them, cowboys, clerks, bricklayers, foot-ball players, three future commanders of the greater army that followed that war, the future Governor of Cuba, future commanders of the Philippines, the commander of our forces in China, a future President of the United States. And, whether these men, when they returned to their homes again, became clerks and millionaires and dentists, or rose to be presidents and mounted policemen, they all remember very kindly the days they lay huddled together in the trenches on that hot and glaring sky-line. And there must be many more besides who hold the place in memory. There are few in the United States so poor in relatives and friends who did not in his or her heart send a substitute to Cuba. For these it seems as though San Juan might be better preserved, not as it is, for already its aspect is too far changed to wish for that, but as it was. The efforts already made to keep the place in memory and to honor the Americans who died there are the public park which I have mentioned, the monument on San Juan, and one other monument at Guasimas to the regulars and Rough Riders who were killed there. To these monuments the Society of Santiago will add four more, which will mark the landing place of the army at Daiquairi and the fights at Guasimas, El Caney, and San Juan Hill. But I believe even more than this might be done to preserve to the place its proper values. These values are sentimental, historical, and possibly to the military student, educational. If to-day there were erected at Daiquairi, Siboney, Guasimas, El Poso, El Caney, and on and about San Juan a dozen iron or bronze tablets that would tell from where certain regiments advanced, what posts they held, how many or how few were the men who held those positions, how near they were to the trenches of the enemy, and by whom these men were commanded, I am sure the place would reconstruct itself and would breathe with interest, not only for the returning volunteer, but for any casual tourist. As it is, the history of the fight and the reputation of the men who fought is now at the mercy of the caretaker of the park and the Cuban "guides" from the hotel. The caretaker speaks only Spanish, and, considering the amount of misinformation the guides disseminate, it is a pity when they are talking to Americans, they are not forced to use the same language. When last I visited it, Carlos Portuondo was the official guardian of San Juan Hill. He is an aged Cuban, and he fought through the Ten Years' War, but during the last insurrection and the Spanish-American War he not only was not near San Juan, but was not even on the Island of Cuba. He is a charming old person, and so is his aged wife. Their chief concern in life, when I saw them, was to sell me a pair of breeches made of palm-fibre which Carlos had worn throughout the entire ten years of battle. The vicissitudes of those trousers he recited to me in great detail, and he very properly regarded them as of historic value. But of what happened at San Juan he knew nothing, and when I asked him why he held his present post and occupied the Block-House, he said, "To keep the cows out of the park." When I asked him where the Americans had camped, he pointed carefully from the back door of the Block-House to the foot of his kitchen-garden. I assured him that under no stress of terror could the entire American army have been driven into his back yard, and pointed out where it had stretched along the ridge of hills for five miles. He politely but unmistakably showed that he thought I was a liar. From the Venus Hotel there were two guides, old Casanova and Jean Casanova, his languid and good-natured son, a youth of sixteen years. Old Casanova, like most Cubans, is not inclined to give much credit for what they did in Cuba to the Americans. After all, he says, they came only just as the Cubans themselves were about to conquer the Spaniards, and by a lucky chance received the surrender and then claimed all the credit. As other Cubans told me, "Had the Americans left us alone a few weeks longer, we would have ended the war." How they were to have taken Havana, and sunk Cervera's fleet, and why they were not among those present when our men charged San Juan, I did not inquire. Old Casanova, again like other Cubans, ranks the fighting qualities of the Spaniard much higher than those of the American. This is only human. It must be annoying to a Cuban to remember that after he had for three years fought the Spaniard, the Yankee in eight weeks received his surrender and began to ship him home. The way Casanova describes the fight at El Caney is as follows: "The Americans thought they could capture El Caney in one day, but the brave General Toral fought so good that it was six days before the Americans could make the Spaniards surrender." The statement is correct except as regards the length of time during which the fight lasted. The Americans did make the mistake of thinking they could eat up El Caney in an hour and then march through it to San Juan. Owing to the splendid courage of Toral and his few troops our soldiers, under two of our best generals, were held in check from seven in the morning until two in the afternoon. But the difference between seven hours of one day and six days is considerable. Still, at present at San Juan that is the sort of information upon which the patriotic and puzzled American tourist is fed. Young Casanova, the only other authority in Santiago, is not so sure of his facts as is his father, and is willing to learn. He went with me to hold my pony while I took the photographs that accompany this article, and I listened with great interest to his accounts of the battle. Finally he made a statement that was correct. "How did you happen to get that right?" I asked. "Yesterday," he said, "I guided Colonel Hayes here, and while I guided him he explained it to me." THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR I--WITH BULLER'S COLUMN "Were you the station-master here before this?" I asked the man in the straw hat, at Colenso. "I mean before this war?" "No fear!" snorted the station-master, scornfully. "Why, we didn't know Colenso was on the line until Buller fought a battle here. That's how it is with all these way-stations now. Everybody's talking about them. We never took no notice to them." And yet the arriving stranger might have been forgiven his point of view and his start of surprise when he found Chieveley a place of only a half dozen corrugated zinc huts, and Colenso a scattered gathering of a dozen shattered houses of battered brick. Chieveley seemed so insignificant in contrast with its fame to those who had followed the war on maps and in the newspapers, that one was not sure he was on the right road until he saw from the car-window the armored train still lying on the embankment, the graves beside it, and the donga into which Winston Churchill pulled and carried the wounded. And as the train bumped and halted before the blue and white enamel sign that marks Colenso station, the places which have made that spot familiar and momentous fell into line like the buoys which mark the entrance to a harbor. We knew that the high bare ridge to the right must be Fort Wylie, that the plain on the left was where Colonel Long had lost his artillery, and three officers gained the Victoria Cross, and that the swift, muddy stream, in which the iron railroad bridge lay humped and sprawling, was the Tugela River. Six hours before, at Frere Station, the station-master had awakened us to say that Ladysmith would be relieved at any moment. This had but just come over the wire. It was "official." Indeed, he added, with local pride, that the village band was still awake and in readiness to celebrate the imminent event. He found, I fear, an unsympathetic audience. The train was carrying philanthropic gentlemen in charge of stores of champagne and marmalade for the besieged city. They did not want it to be relieved until they were there to substitute _pate de foie gras_ for horseflesh. And there were officers, too, who wanted a "look in," and who had been kept waiting at Cape Town for commissions, gladdening the guests of the Mount Nelson Hotel the while with their new khaki and gaiters, and there were Tommies who wanted "Relief of Ladysmith" on the claps of their medals, as they had seen "Relief of Lucknow" on the medals of the Chelsea pensioners. And there was a correspondent who had journeyed 15,000 miles to see Ladysmith relieved, and who was apparently going to miss that sight, after five weeks of travel, by a margin of five hours. We all growled "That's good," as we had done for the last two weeks every time we had heard it was relieved, but our tone was not enthusiastic. And when the captain of the Natal Carbineers said, "I am afraid the good news is too premature," we all said, hopefully, we were afraid it was. We had seen nothing yet that was like real war. That night at Pietermaritzburg the officers at the hotel were in mess-jackets, the officers' wives in dinner-gowns. It was like Shepheard's Hotel, at the top of the season. But only six hours after that dinner, as we looked out of the car-windows, we saw galloping across the high grass, like men who had lost their way, and silhouetted black against the red sunrise, countless horsemen scouting ahead of our train, and guarding it against the fate of the armored one lying wrecked at Chieveley. The darkness was still heavy on the land and the only lights were the red eyes of the armored train creeping in advance of ours, and the red sun, which showed our silent escort appearing suddenly against the sky-line on a ridge, or galloping toward us through the dew to order us, with a wave of the hand, to greater speed. One hour after sunrise the train drew up at Colenso, and from only a mile away we heard the heavy thud of the naval guns, the hammering of the Boer "pom-poms," and the Maxims and Colt automatics spanking the air. We smiled at each other guiltily. We were on time. It was most evident that Ladysmith had not been relieved. This was the twelfth day of a battle that Buller's column was waging against the Boers and their mountain ranges, or "disarranges," as some one described them, without having gained more than three miles of hostile territory. He had tried to force his way through them six times, and had been repulsed six times. And now he was to try it again. No map, nor photograph, nor written description can give an idea of the country which lay between Buller and his goal. It was an eruption of high hills, linked together at every point without order or sequence. In most countries mountains and hills follow some natural law. The Cordilleras can be traced from the Amazon River to Guatemala City; they make the water-shed of two continents; the Great Divide forms the backbone of the States, but these Natal hills have no lineal descent. They are illegitimate children of no line, abandoned broadcast over the country, with no family likeness and no home. They stand alone, or shoulder to shoulder, or at right angles, or at a tangent, or join hands across a valley. They never appear the same; some run to a sharp point, some stretch out, forming a table-land, others are gigantic ant-hills, others perfect and accurately modelled ramparts. In a ride of half a mile, every hill completely loses its original aspect and character. They hide each other, or disguise each other. Each can be enfiladed by the other, and not one gives up the secret of its strategic value until its crest has been carried by the bayonet. To add to this confusion, the river Tugela has selected the hills around Ladysmith as occupying the country through which it will endeavor to throw off its pursuers. It darts through them as though striving to escape, it doubles on its tracks, it sinks out of sight between them, and in the open plain rises to the dignity of water-falls. It runs uphill, and remains motionless on an incline, and on the level ground twists and turns so frequently that when one says he has crossed the Tugela, he means he has crossed it once at a drift, once at the wrecked railroad bridge, and once over a pontoon. And then he is not sure that he is not still on the same side from which he started. Some of these hills are green, but the greater part are a yellow or dark red, against which at two hundred yards a man in khaki is indistinguishable from the rocks around him. Indeed, the khaki is the English soldier's sole protection. It saves him in spite of himself, for he apparently cannot learn to advance under cover, and a sky-line is the one place where he selects to stand erect and stretch his weary limbs. I have come to within a hundred yards of a hill before I saw that scattered among its red and yellow bowlders was the better part of a regiment as closely packed together as the crowd on the bleaching boards at a base-ball match. Into this maze and confusion of nature's fortifications Buller's column has been twisting and turning, marching and countermarching, capturing one position after another, to find it was enfiladed from many hills, and abandoning it, only to retake it a week later. The greater part of the column has abandoned its tents and is bivouacking in the open. It is a wonderful and impressive sight. At the first view, an army in being, when it is spread out as it is in the Tugela basin back of the hills, seems a hopelessly and irrevocably entangled mob. An army in the field is not regiments of armed men, marching with a gun on shoulder, or crouching behind trenches. That is the least, even if it seems the most, important part of it. Before one reaches the firing-line he must pass villages of men, camps of men, bivouacs of men, who are feeding, mending, repairing, and burying the men at the "front." It is these latter that make the mob of gypsies, which is apparently without head or order or organization. They stretched across the great basin of the Tugela, like the children of Israel, their camp-fires rising to the sky at night like the reflection of great search-lights; by day they swarmed across the plain, like hundreds of moving circus-vans in every direction, with as little obvious intention as herds of buffalo. But each had his appointed work, and each was utterly indifferent to the battle going forward a mile away. Hundreds of teams, of sixteen oxen each, crawled like great black water-snakes across the drifts, the Kaffir drivers, naked and black, lashing them with whips as long as lariats, shrieking, beseeching, and howling, and falling upon the oxen's horns to drag them into place. Mules from Spain and Texas, loaded with ammunition, kicked and plunged, more oxen drew more soberly the great naval guns, which lurched as though in a heavy sea, throwing the blue-jackets who hung upon the drag-ropes from one high side of the trail to the other. Across the plain, and making toward the trail, wagons loaded with fodder, with rations, with camp equipment, with tents and cooking-stoves, crowded each other as closely as cable-cars on Broadway. Scattered among them were fixed lines of tethered horses, rows of dog-tents, camps of Kaffirs, hospital stations with the Red Cross waving from the nearest and highest tree. Dripping water-carts with as many spigots as the regiment had companies, howitzer guns guided by as many ropes as a May-pole, crowded past these to the trail, or gave way to the ambulances filled with men half dressed and bound in the zinc-blue bandages that made the color detestable forever after. Troops of the irregular horse gallop through this multitude, with a jangling of spurs and sling-belts; and Tommies, in close order, fight their way among the oxen, or help pull them to one side as the stretchers pass, each with its burden, each with its blue bandage stained a dark brownish crimson. It is only when the figure on the stretcher lies under a blanket that the tumult and push and sweltering mass comes to a quick pause, while the dead man's comrade stands at attention, and the officer raises his fingers to his helmet. Then the mass surges on again, with cracking of whips and shouts and imprecations, while the yellow dust rises in thick clouds and buries the picture in a glaring fog. This moving, struggling mass, that fights for the right of way along the road, is within easy distance of the shells. Those from their own guns pass over them with a shrill crescendo, those from the enemy burst among them at rare intervals, or sink impotently in the soft soil. And a dozen Tommies rush to dig them out as keepsakes. Up at the front, brown and yellow regiments are lying crouched behind brown and yellow rocks and stones. As far as you can see, the hills are sown with them. With a glass you distinguish them against the sky-line of every hill, for over three miles away. Sometimes the men rise and fire, and there is a feverish flutter of musketry; sometimes they lie motionless for hours while the guns make the ways straight. Any one who has seen Epsom Downs on a Derby day, with its thousands of vans and tents and lines of horses and moving mobs, can form some idea of what it is like. But while at the Derby all is interest and excitement, and every one is pushing and struggling, and the air palpitates with the intoxication of a great event, the winning of a horse-race--here, where men are killed every hour and no one of them knows when his turn may come, the fact that most impresses you is their indifference to it all. What strikes you most is the bored air of the Tommies, the undivided interest of the engineers in the construction of a pontoon bridge, the solicitude of the medical staff over the long lines of wounded, the rage of the naked Kaffirs at their lumbering steers; the fact that every one is intent on something--anything--but the battle. They are wearied with battles. The Tommies stretch themselves in the sun to dry the wet khaki in which they have lain out in the cold night for weeks, and yawn at battles. Or, if you climb to the hill where the officers are seated, you will find men steeped even deeper in boredom. They are burned a dark red; their brown mustaches look white by contrast, theirs are the same faces you have met with in Piccadilly, which you see across the tables of the Savoy restaurant, which gaze depressedly from the windows of White's and the Bachelors' Club. If they were bored then, they are unbearably bored now. Below them the men of their regiment lie crouched amid the bowlders, hardly distinguishable from the brown and yellow rock. They are sleeping, or dozing, or yawning. A shell passes over them like the shaking of many telegraph wires, and neither officer nor Tommy raises his head to watch it strike. They are tired in body and in mind, with cramped limbs and aching eyes. They have had twelve nights and twelve days of battle, and it has lost its power to amuse. When the sergeants call the companies together, they are eager enough. Anything is better than lying still looking up at the sunny, inscrutable hills, or down into the plain crawling with black oxen. Among the group of staff officers some one has lost a cigar-holder. It has slipped from between his fingers, and, with the vindictiveness of inanimate things, has slid and jumped under a pile of rocks. The interest of all around is instantly centred on the lost cigar-holder. The Tommies begin to roll the rocks away, endangering the limbs of the men below them, and half the kopje is obliterated. They are as keen as terriers after a rat. The officers sit above and give advice and disagree as to where that cigar-holder hid itself. Over their heads, not twenty feet above, the shells chase each other fiercely. But the officers have become accustomed to shells; a search for a lost cigar-holder, which is going on under their very eyes, is of greater interest. And when at last a Tommy pounces upon it with a laugh of triumph, the officers look their disappointment, and, with a sigh of resignation, pick up their field-glasses. It is all a question of familiarity. On Broadway, if a building is going up where there is a chance of a loose brick falling on some one's head, the contractor puts up red signs marked "Danger!" and you dodge over to the other side. But if you had been in battle for twelve days, as have the soldiers of Buller's column, passing shells would interest you no more than do passing cable-cars. After twelve days you would forget that shells are dangerous even as you forget when crossing Broadway that cable-cars can kill and mangle. Up on the highest hill, seated among the highest rocks, are General Buller and his staff. The hill is all of rocks, sharp, brown rocks, as clearly cut as foundation-stones. They are thrown about at irregular angles, and are shaded only by stiff bayonet-like cacti. Above is a blue glaring sky, into which the top of the kopje seems to reach, and to draw and concentrate upon itself all of the sun's heat. This little jagged point of blistering rocks holds the forces that press the button which sets the struggling mass below, and the thousands of men upon the surrounding hills, in motion. It is the conning tower of the relief column, only, unlike a conning tower, it offers no protection, no seclusion, no peace. To-day, commanding generals, under the new conditions which this war has developed, do not charge up hills waving flashing swords. They sit on rocks, and wink out their orders by a flashing hand-mirror. The swords have been left at the base, or coated deep with mud, so that they shall not flash, and with this column every one, under the rank of general, carries a rifle on purpose to disguise the fact that he is entitled to carry a sword. The kopje is the central station of the system. From its uncomfortable eminence the commanding general watches the developments of his attack, and directs it by heliograph and ragged bits of bunting. A sweating, dirty Tommy turns his back on a hill a mile away and slaps the air with his signal flag; another Tommy, with the front visor of his helmet cocked over the back of his neck, watches an answering bit of bunting through a glass. The bit of bunting, a mile away, flashes impatiently, once to the right and once to the left, and the Tommy with the glass says, "They understand, sir," and the other Tommy, who has not as yet cast even an interested glance at the regiment he has ordered into action, folds his flag and curls up against a hot rock and instantly sleeps. Stuck on the crest, twenty feet from where General Buller is seated, are two iron rods, like those in the putting-green of a golf course. They mark the line of direction which a shell must take, in order to seek out the enemy. Back of the kopje, where they cannot see the enemy, where they cannot even see the hill upon which he is intrenched, are the howitzers. Their duty is to aim at the iron rods, and vary their aim to either side of them as they are directed to do by an officer on the crest. Their shells pass a few yards over the heads of the staff, but the staff has confidence. Those three yards are as safe a margin as a hundred. Their confidence is that of the lady in spangles at a music-hall, who permits her husband in buckskin to shoot apples from the top of her head. From the other direction come the shells of the Boers, seeking out the hidden howitzers. They pass somewhat higher, crashing into the base of the kopje, sometimes killing, sometimes digging their own ignominious graves. The staff regard them with the same indifference. One of them tears the overcoat upon which Colonel Stuart-Wortley is seated, another destroys his diary. His men, lying at his feet among the red rocks, observe this with wide eyes. But he does not shift his position. His answer is, that his men cannot shift theirs. On Friday, February 23d, the Inniskillings, Dublins, and Connaughts were sent out to take a trench, half-way up Railway Hill. The attack was one of those frontal attacks, which in this war, against the new weapons, have added so much to the lists of killed and wounded and to the prestige of the men, while it has, in an inverse ratio, hurt the prestige of the men by whom the attack was ordered. The result of this attack was peculiarly disastrous. It was made at night, and as soon as it developed, the Boers retreated to the trenches on the crest of the hill, and threw men around the sides to bring a cross-fire to bear on the Englishmen. In the morning the Inniskillings found they had lost four hundred men, and ten out of their fifteen officers. The other regiments lost as heavily. The following Tuesday, which was the anniversary of Majuba Hill, three brigades, instead of a regiment, were told off to take this same Railway Hill, or Pieter's, as it was later called, on the flank, and with it to capture two others. On the same day, nineteen years before, the English had lost Majuba Hill, and their hope was to take these three from the Boers for the one they had lost, and open the way to Bulwana Mountain, which was the last bar that held them back from Ladysmith. The first two of the three hills they wanted were shoulder to shoulder, the third was separated from them by a deep ravine. This last was the highest, and in order that the attack should be successful, it was necessary to seize it first. The hills stretched for three miles; they were about one thousand two hundred yards high. For three hours a single line of men slipped and stumbled forward along the muddy bank of the river, and for three hours the artillery crashed, spluttered, and stabbed at the three hills above them, scattering the rocks and bursting over and behind the Boer trenches on the crest. As is their custom, the Boers remained invisible and made no reply. And though we knew they were there, it seemed inconceivable that anything human could live under such a bombardment of shot, bullets, and shrapnel. A hundred yards distant, on our right, the navy guns were firing lyddite that burst with a thick yellow smoke; on the other side Colt automatics were put-put-put-ing a stream of bullets; the field-guns and the howitzers were playing from a hill half a mile behind us, and scattered among the rocks about us, and for two miles on either hand, the infantry in reserve were firing off ammunition at any part of the three hills they happened to dislike! The roar of the navy's Four-Point-Sevens, their crash, their rush as they passed, the shrill whine of the shrapnel, the barking of the howitzers, and the mechanical, regular rattle of the quick-firing Maxims, which sounded like the clicking of many mowing-machines on a hot summer's day, tore the air with such hideous noises that one's skull ached from the concussion, and one could only be heard by shouting. But more impressive by far than this hot chorus of mighty thunder and petty hammering, was the roar of the wind which was driven down into the valley beneath, and which swept up again in enormous waves of sound. It roared like a wild hurricane at sea. The illusion was so complete, that you expected, by looking down, to see the Tugela lashing at her banks, tossing the spray hundreds of feet in air, and battling with her sides of rock. It was like the roar of Niagara in a gale, and yet when you did look below, not a leaf was stirring, and the Tugela was slipping forward, flat and sluggish, and in peace. The long procession of yellow figures was still advancing along the bottom of the valley, toward the right, when on the crest of the farthermost hill fourteen of them appeared suddenly, and ran forward and sprang into the trenches. Perched against the blue sky on the highest and most distant of the three hills, they looked terribly lonely and insufficient, and they ran about, this way and that, as though they were very much surprised to find themselves where they were. Then they settled down into the Boer trench, from our side of it, and began firing, their officer, as his habit is, standing up behind them. The hill they had taken had evidently been abandoned to them by the enemy, and the fourteen men in khaki had taken it by "default." But they disappeared so suddenly into the trench, that we knew they were not enjoying their new position in peace, and every one looked below them, to see the arriving reinforcements. They came at last, to the number of ten, and scampered about just as the others had done, looking for cover. It seemed as if we could almost hear the singing of the bullet when one of them dodged, and it was with a distinct sense of relief, and of freedom from further responsibility, that we saw the ten disappear also, and become part of the yellow stones about them. Then a very wonderful movement began to agitate the men upon the two remaining hills. They began to creep up them as you have seen seaweed rise with the tide and envelop a rock. They moved in regiments, but each man was as distinct as is a letter of the alphabet in each word on this page, black with letters. We began to follow the fortunes of individual letters. It was a most selfish and cowardly occupation, for you knew you were in no greater danger than you would be in looking through the glasses of a mutoscope. The battle unrolled before you like a panorama. The guns on our side of the valley had ceased, the hurricane in the depths below had instantly spent itself, and the birds and insects had again begun to fill our hill with drowsy twitter and song. But on the other, half the men were wrapping the base of the hill in khaki, which rose higher and higher, growing looser and less tightly wrapt as it spun upward. Halfway to the crest there was a broad open space of green grass, and above that a yellow bank of earth, which supported the track of the railroad. This green space spurted with tiny geysers of yellow dust. Where the bullets came from or who sent them we could not see. But the loose ends of the bandage of khaki were stretching across this green space and the yellow spurts of dust rose all around them. The men crossed this fire zone warily, looking to one side or the other, as the bullets struck the earth heavily, like drops of rain before a shower. The men had their heads and shoulders bent as though they thought a roof was about to fall on them; some ran from rock to rock, seeking cover properly; others scampered toward the safe vantage-ground behind the railroad embankment; others advanced leisurely, like men playing golf. The silence, after the hurricane of sounds, was painful; we could not hear even the Boer rifles. The men moved like figures in a dream, without firing a shot. They seemed each to be acting on his own account, without unison or organization. As I have said, you ceased considering the scattered whole, and became intent on the adventures of individuals. These fell so suddenly, that you waited with great anxiety to learn whether they had dropped to dodge a bullet or whether one had found them. The men came at last from every side, and from out of every ridge and dried-up waterway. Open spaces which had been green a moment before were suddenly dyed yellow with them. Where a company had been clinging to the railroad embankment, there stood one regiment holding it, and another sweeping over it. Heights that had seemed the goal, became the resting-place of the stretcher-bearers, until at last no part of the hill remained unpopulated, save a high bulging rampart of unprotected and open ground. And then, suddenly, coming from the earth itself, apparently, one man ran across this open space and leaped on top of the trench which crowned the hill. He was fully fifteen yards in advance of all the rest, entirely unsupported, and alone. And he had evidently planned it so, for he took off his helmet and waved it, and stuck it on his rifle and waved it again, and then suddenly clapped it on his head and threw his gun to his shoulder. He stood so, pointing down into the trench, and it seemed as though we could hear him calling upon the Boers behind it to surrender. A few minutes later the last of the three hills was mounted by the West Yorks, who were mistaken by their own artillery for Boers, and fired upon both by the Boers and by their own shrapnel and lyddite. Four men were wounded, and, to save themselves, a line of them stood up at full length on the trench and cheered and waved at the artillery until it had ceased to play upon them. The Boers continued to fire upon them with rifles for over two hours. But it was only a demonstration to cover the retreat of the greater number, and at daybreak the hills were in complete and peaceful possession of the English. These hills were a part of the same Railway Hill which four nights before the Inniskillings and a composite regiment had attempted to take by a frontal attack with the loss of six hundred men, among whom were three colonels. By this flank attack, and by using nine regiments instead of one, the same hills and two others were taken with two hundred casualties. The fact that this battle, which was called the Battle of Pieter's Hill, and the surrender of General Cronje and his forces to Lord Roberts, both took place on the anniversary of the battle of Majuba Hill, made the whole of Buller's column feel that the ill memory of that disaster had been effaced. II--THE RELIEF OF LADYSMITH After the defeat of the Boers at the battle of Pieter's Hill there were two things left for them to do. They could fall back across a great plain which stretched from Pieter's Hill to Bulwana Mountain, and there make their last stand against Buller and the Ladysmith relief column, or they could abandon the siege of Ladysmith and slip away after having held Buller at bay for three months. Bulwana Mountain is shaped like a brick and blocks the valley in which Ladysmith lies. The railroad track slips around one end of the brick, and the Dundee trail around the other. It was on this mountain that the Boers had placed their famous gun, Long Tom, with which they began the bombardment of Ladysmith, and with which up to the day before Ladysmith was relieved they had thrown three thousand shells into that miserable town. If the Boers on retreating from Pieter's Hill had fortified this mountain with the purpose of holding off Buller for a still longer time, they would have been under a fire from General White's artillery in the town behind them and from Buller's naval guns in front. Their position would not have been unlike that of Humpty Dumpty on the wall, so they wisely adopted the only alternative and slipped away. This was on Tuesday night, while the British were hurrying up artillery to hold the hills they had taken that afternoon. By ten o'clock the following morning from the top of Pieter's Hill you could still see the Boers moving off along the Dundee road. It was an easy matter to follow them, for the dust hung above the trail in a yellow cloud, like mist over a swamp. There were two opinions as to whether they were halting at Bulwana or passing it, on their way to Laing's Neck. If they were going only to Bulwana there was the probability of two weeks' more fighting before they could be dislodged. If they had avoided Bulwana, the way to Ladysmith was open. Lord Dundonald, who is in command of a brigade of irregular cavalry, was scouting to the left of Bulwana, far in advance of our forces. At sunset he arrived, without having encountered the Boers, at the base of Bulwana. He could either return and report the disappearance of the enemy or he could make a dash for it and enter Ladysmith. His orders were "to go, look, see," and avoid an action, and the fact that none of his brigade was in the triumphant procession which took place three days later has led many to think that in entering the besieged town without orders he offended the commanding general. In any event, it is a family row and of no interest to the outsider. The main fact is that he did make a dash for it, and just at sunset found himself with two hundred men only a mile from the "Doomed City." His force was composed of Natal Carbiniers and Imperial Light Horse. He halted them, and in order that honors might be even, formed them in sections with the half sections made up from each of the two organizations. All the officers were placed in front, and with a cheer they started to race across the plain. The wig-waggers on Convent Hill had already seen them, and the townspeople and the garrison were rushing through the streets to meet them, cheering and shouting, and some of them weeping. Others, so officers tell me, who were in the different camps, looked down upon the figures galloping across the plain in the twilight, and continued making tea. Just as they had reached the centre of the town, General Sir George White and his staff rode down from head-quarters and met the men whose coming meant for him life and peace and success. They were advancing at a walk, with the cheering people hanging to their stirrups, clutching at their hands and hanging to the bridles of their horses. General White's first greeting was characteristically unselfish and loyal, and typical of the British officer. He gave no sign of his own in calculable relief, nor did he give to Caesar the things which were Caesar's. He did not cheer Dundonald, nor Buller, nor the column which had rescued him and his garrison from present starvation and probable imprisonment at Pretoria. He raised his helmet and cried, "We will give three cheers for the Queen!" And then the general and the healthy, ragged, and sunburned troopers from the outside world, the starved, fever-ridden garrison, and the starved, fever-ridden civilians stood with hats off and sang their national anthem. The column outside had been fighting steadily for six weeks to get Dundonald or any one of its force into Ladysmith; for fourteen days it had been living in the open, fighting by night as well as by day, without halt or respite; the garrison inside had been for four months holding the enemy at bay with the point of the bayonet; it was famished for food, it was rotten with fever, and yet when the relief came and all turned out well, the first thought of every one was for the Queen! It may be credulous in them or old-fashioned; but it is certainly very unselfish, and when you take their point of view it is certainly very fine. After the Queen every one else had his share of the cheering, and General White could not complain of the heartiness with which they greeted him, he tried to make a speech in reply, but it was a brief one. He spoke of how much they owed to General Buller and his column, and he congratulated his own soldiers on the defence they had made. "I am very sorry, men," he said, "that I had to cut down your rations. I--I promise you I won't do it again." Then he stopped very suddenly and whirled his horse's head around and rode away. Judging from the number of times they told me of this, the fact that they had all but seen an English general give way to his feelings seemed to have impressed the civilian mind of Ladysmith more than the entrance of the relief force. The men having come in and demonstrated that the way was open, rode forth again, and the relief of Ladysmith had taken place. But it is not the people cheering in the dark streets, nor General White breaking down in his speech of welcome, which gives the note to the way the men of Ladysmith received their freedom. It is rather the fact that as the two hundred battle-stained and earth-stained troopers galloped forward, racing to be the first, and rising in their stirrups to cheer, the men in the hospital camps said, "Well, they're come at last, have they?" and continued fussing over their fourth of a ration of tea. That gives the real picture of how Ladysmith came into her inheritance, and of how she received her rescuers. On the morning after Dundonald had ridden in and out of Ladysmith, two other correspondents and myself started to relieve it on our own account. We did not know the way to Ladysmith, and we did not then know whether or not the Boers still occupied Bulwana Mountain. But we argued that the chances of the Boers having raised the siege were so good that it was worth risking their not having done so, and being taken prisoner. We carried all the tobacco we could pack in our saddle-bags, and enough food for one day. My chief regret was that my government, with true republican simplicity, had given me a passport, type-written on a modest sheet of notepaper and wofully lacking in impressive seals and coats of arms. I fancied it would look to Boer eyes like one I might have forged for myself in the writing-room of the hotel at Cape Town. We had ridden up Pieter's Hill and scrambled down on its other side before we learned that the night before Dundonald had raised the siege. We learned this from long trains of artillery and regiments of infantry which already were moving forward over the great plain which lies between Pieter's and Bulwana. We learned it also from the silence of conscientious, dutiful correspondents, who came galloping back as we galloped forward, and who made wide detours at sight of us, or who, when we hailed them, lashed their ponies over the red rocks and pretended not to hear, each unselfishly turning his back on Ladysmith in the hope that he might be the first to send word that the "Doomed City" was relieved. This would enable one paper to say that it had the news "on the street" five minutes earlier than its hated rivals. We found that the rivalry of our respective papers bored us. We condemned it as being childish and weak. London, New York, Chicago were names, they were spots thousands of leagues away: Ladysmith was just across that mountain. If our horses held out at the pace, we would be--after Dundonald--the first men in. We imagined that we would see hysterical women and starving men. They would wring our hands, and say, "God bless you," and we would halt our steaming horses in the market-place, and distribute the news of the outside world, and tobacco. There would be shattered houses, roofless homes, deep pits in the roadways where the shells had burst and buried themselves. We would see the entombed miner at the moment of his deliverance, we would be among the first from the outer world to break the spell of his silence; the first to receive the brunt of the imprisoned people's gratitude and rejoicings. Indeed, it was clearly our duty to the papers that employed us that we should not send them news, but that we should be the first to enter Ladysmith. We were surely the best judges of what was best to do. How like them to try to dictate to us from London and New York, when we were on the spot! It was absurd. We shouted this to each other as we raced in and out of the long confused column, lashing viciously with our whips. We stumbled around pieces of artillery, slid in between dripping water-carts, dodged the horns of weary oxen, scattered companies of straggling Tommies, and ducked under protruding tent-poles on the baggage-wagons, and at last came out together again in advance of the dusty column. "Besides, we don't know where the press-censor is, do we?" No, of course we had no idea where the press-censor was, and unless he said that Ladysmith was relieved, the fact that twenty-five thousand other soldiers said so counted for idle gossip. Our papers could not expect us to go riding over mountains the day Ladysmith was relieved, hunting for a press-censor. "That press-censor," gasped Hartland, "never--is--where he--ought to be." The words were bumped out of him as he was shot up and down in the saddle. That was it. It was the press-censor's fault. Our consciences were clear now. If our papers worried themselves or us because they did not receive the great news until every one else knew of it, it was all because of that press-censor. We smiled again and spurred the horses forward. We abused the press-censor roundly--we were extremely indignant with him. It was so like him to lose himself the day Ladysmith was relieved. "Confound him," we muttered, and grinned guiltily. We felt as we used to feel when we were playing truant from school. We were nearing Pieter's Station now, and were half-way to Ladysmith. But the van of the army was still about us. Was it possible that it stretched already into the beleaguered city? Were we, after all, to be cheated of the first and freshest impressions? The tall lancers turned at the sound of the horses' hoofs and stared, infantry officers on foot smiled up at us sadly, they were dirty and dusty and sweating, they carried rifles and cross belts like the Tommies; and they knew that we outsiders who were not under orders would see the chosen city before them. Some of them shouted to us, but we only nodded and galloped on. We wanted to get rid of them all, but they were interminable. When we thought we had shaken them off, and that we were at last in advance, we would come upon a group of them resting on the same ground their shells had torn up during the battle the day before. We passed Boer laagers marked by empty cans and broken saddles and black, cold camp-fires. At Pieter's Station the blood was still fresh on the grass where two hours before some of the South African Light Horse had been wounded. The Boers were still on Bulwana then? Perhaps, after all, we had better turn back and try to find that press-censor. But we rode on and saw Pieter's Station, as we passed it, as an absurd relic of by-gone days when bridges were intact and trains ran on schedule time. One door seen over the shoulder as we galloped past read, "Station Master's Office--Private," and in contempt of that stern injunction, which would make even the first-class passenger hesitate, one of our shells had knocked away the half of the door and made its privacy a mockery. We had only to follow the track now and we would arrive in time--unless the Boers were still on Bulwana. We had shaken off the army, and we were two miles in front of it, when six men came galloping toward us in an unfamiliar uniform. They passed us far to the right, regardless of the trail, and galloping through the high grass. We pulled up when we saw them, for they had green facings to their gray uniforms, and no one with Buller's column wore green facings. We gave a yell in chorus. "Are you from Ladysmith?" we shouted. The men, before they answered, wheeled and cheered, and came toward us laughing jubilant. "We're the first men out," cried the officer and we rode in among them, shaking hands and offering our good wishes. "We're glad to see you," we said. "We're glad to see _you_," they said. It was not an original greeting, but it seemed sufficient to all of us. "Are the Boers on Bulwana?" we asked. "No, they've trekked up Dundee way. You can go right in." We parted at the word and started to go right in. We found the culverts along the railroad cut away and the bridges down, and that galloping ponies over the roadbed of a railroad is a difficult feat at the best, even when the road is in working order. Some men, cleanly dressed and rather pale-looking, met us and said: "Good-morning." "Are you from Ladysmith?" we called. "No, we're from the neutral camp," they answered. We were the first men from outside they had seen in four months, and that was the extent of their interest or information. They had put on their best clothes, and were walking along the track to Colenso to catch a train south to Durban or to Maritzburg, to any place out of the neutral camp. They might have been somnambulists for all they saw of us, or of the Boer trenches and the battle-field before them. But we found them of greatest interest, especially their clean clothes. Our column had not seen clean linen in six weeks, and the sight of these civilians in white duck and straw hats, and carrying walking-sticks, coming toward us over the railroad ties, made one think it was Sunday at home and these were excursionists to the suburbs. We had been riding through a roofless tunnel, with the mountain and the great dam on one side, and the high wall of the railway cutting on the other, but now just ahead of us lay the open country, and the exit of the tunnel barricaded by twisted rails and heaped-up ties and bags of earth. Bulwana was behind us. For eight miles it had shut out the sight of our goal, but now, directly in front of us, was spread a great city of dirty tents and grass huts and Red Cross flags--the neutral camp--and beyond that, four miles away, shimmering and twinkling sleepily in the sun, the white walls and zinc roofs of Ladysmith. We gave a gasp of recognition and galloped into and through the neutral camp. Natives of India in great turbans, Indian women in gay shawls and nose-rings, and black Kaffirs in discarded khaki looked up at us dully from the earth floors of their huts, and when we shouted "Which way?" and "Where is the bridge?" only stared, or pointed vaguely, still staring. After all, we thought, they are poor creatures, incapable of emotion. Perhaps they do not know how glad we are that they have been rescued. They do not understand that we want to shake hands with everybody and offer our congratulations. Wait until we meet our own people, we said, they will understand! It was such a pleasant prospect that we whipped the unhappy ponies into greater bursts of speed, not because they needed it, but because we were too excited and impatient to sit motionless. In our haste we lost our way among innumerable little trees; we disagreed as to which one of the many cross-trails led home to the bridge. We slipped out of our stirrups to drag the ponies over one steep place, and to haul them up another, and at last the right road lay before us, and a hundred yards ahead a short iron bridge and a Gordon Highlander waited to welcome us, to receive our first greetings and an assorted collection of cigarettes. Hartland was riding a thoroughbred polo pony and passed the gallant defender of Ladysmith without a kind look or word, but Blackwood and I galloped up more decorously, smiling at him with good-will. The soldier, who had not seen a friend from the outside world in four months, leaped in front of us and presented a heavy gun and a burnished bayonet. "Halt, there," he cried. "Where's your pass?" Of course it showed excellent discipline--we admired it immensely. We even overlooked the fact that he should think Boer spies would enter the town by way of the main bridge and at a gallop. We liked his vigilance, we admired his discipline, but in spite of that his reception chilled us. We had brought several things with us that we thought they might possibly want in Ladysmith, but we had entirely forgotten to bring a pass. Indeed I do not believe one of the twenty-five thousand men who had been fighting for six weeks to relieve Ladysmith had supplied himself with one. The night before, when the Ladysmith sentries had tried to halt Dundonald's troopers in the same way, and demanded a pass from them, there was not one in the squadron. We crossed the bridge soberly and entered Ladysmith at a walk. Even the ponies looked disconcerted and crestfallen. After the high grass and the mountains of red rock, where there was not even a tent to remind one of a roof-tree, the stone cottages and shop-windows and chapels and well-ordered hedges of the main street of Ladysmith made it seem a wealthy and attractive suburb. When we entered, a Sabbath-like calm hung upon the town; officers in the smartest khaki and glistening Stowassers observed us askance, little girls in white pinafores passed us with eyes cast down, a man on a bicycle looked up, and then, in terror lest we might speak to him, glued his eyes to the wheel and "scorched" rapidly. We trotted forward and halted at each street crossing, looking to the right and left in the hope that some one might nod to us. From the opposite end of the town General Buller and his staff came toward us slowly--the house-tops did not seem to sway--it was not "roses, roses all the way." The German army marching into Paris received as hearty a welcome. "Why didn't you people cheer General Buller when he came in?" we asked later. "Oh, was that General Buller?" they inquired. "We didn't recognize him." "But you knew he was a general officer, you knew he was the first of the relieving column?" "Ye-es, but we didn't know who he was." I decided that the bare fact of the relief of Ladysmith was all I would be able to wire to my neglected paper, and with remorses started to find the Ladysmith censor. Two officers, with whom I ventured to break the hush that hung upon the town by asking my way, said they were going in the direction of the censor. We rode for some distance in guarded silence. Finally, one of them, with an inward struggle, brought himself to ask, "Are you from the outside?" I was forced to admit that I was. I felt that I had taken an unwarrantable liberty in intruding on a besieged garrison. I wanted to say that I had lost my way and had ridden into the town by mistake, and that I begged to be allowed to withdraw with apologies. The other officer woke up suddenly and handed me a printed list of the prices which had been paid during the siege for food and tobacco. He seemed to offer it as being in some way an official apology for his starved appearance. The price of cigars struck me as especially pathetic, and I commented on it. The first officer gazed mournfully at the blazing sunshine before him. "I have not smoked a cigar in two months," he said. My surging sympathy, and my terror at again offending the haughty garrison, combated so fiercely that it was only with a great effort that I produced a handful. "Will you have these?" The other officer started in his saddle so violently that I thought his horse had stumbled, but he also kept his eyes straight in front. "Thank you, I will take one if I may--just one," said the first officer. "Are you sure I am not robbing you?" They each took one, but they refused to put the rest of the cigars in their pockets. As the printed list stated that a dozen matches sold for $1.75, I handed them a box of matches. Then a beautiful thing happened. They lit the cigars and at the first taste of the smoke--and they were not good cigars--an almost human expression of peace and good-will and utter abandonment to joy spread over their yellow skins and cracked lips and fever-lit eyes. The first man dropped his reins and put his hands on his hips and threw back his head and shoulders and closed his eyelids. I felt that I had intruded at a moment which should have been left sacred. {5} Another boy officer in stainless khaki and beautifully turned out, polished and burnished and varnished, but with the same yellow skin and sharpened cheek-bones and protruding teeth, a skeleton on horseback, rode slowly toward us down the hill. As he reached us he glanced up and then swayed in his saddle, gazing at my companions fearfully. "Good God," he cried. His brother officers seemed to understand, but made no answer, except to jerk their heads toward me. They were too occupied to speak. I handed the skeleton a cigar, and he took it in great embarrassment, laughing and stammering and blushing. Then I began to understand; I began to appreciate the heroic self-sacrifice of the first two, who, when they had been given the chance, had refused to fill their pockets. I knew then that it was an effort worthy of the V. C. The censor was at his post, and a few minutes later a signal officer on Convent Hill heliographed my cable to Bulwana, where, six hours after the Boers had abandoned it, Buller's own helios had begun to dance, and they speeded the cable on its long journey to the newspaper office on the Thames Embankment. [Picture: "Tommies" seeking shelter from "Long Tom" at Ladysmith] When one descended to the streets again--there are only two streets which run the full length of the town--and looked for signs of the siege, one found them not in the shattered houses, of which there seemed surprisingly few, but in the starved and fever-shaken look of the people. The cloak of indifference which every Englishman wears, and his instinctive dislike to make much of his feelings, and, in this case, his pluck, at first concealed from us how terribly those who had been inside of Ladysmith had suffered, and how near to the breaking point they were. Their faces were the real index to what they had passed through. Any one who had seen our men at Montauk Point or in the fever camp at Siboney needed no hospital list to tell him of the pitiful condition of the garrison. The skin on their faces was yellow, and drawn sharply over the brow and cheekbones; their teeth protruded, and they shambled along like old men, their voices ranging from a feeble pipe to a deep whisper. In this pitiable condition they had been forced to keep night-watch on the hill-crests, in the rain, to lie in the trenches, and to work on fortifications and bomb-proofs. And they were expected to do all of these things on what strength they could get from horse-meat, biscuits of the toughness and composition of those that are fed to dogs, and on "mealies," which is what we call corn. That first day in Ladysmith gave us a faint experience as to what the siege meant. The correspondents had disposed of all their tobacco, and within an hour saw starvation staring them in the face, and raced through the town to rob fellow-correspondents who had just arrived. The new-comers in their turn had soon distributed all they owned, and came tearing back to beg one of their own cigarettes. We tried to buy grass for our ponies, and were met with pitying contempt; we tried to buy food for ourselves, and were met with open scorn. I went to the only hotel which was open in the place, and offered large sums for a cup of tea. "Put up your money," said the Scotchman in charge, sharply. "What's the good of your money? Can your horse eat money? Can you eat money? Very well, then, put it away." The great dramatic moment after the raising of the siege was the entrance into Ladysmith of the relieving column. It was a magnificent, manly, and moving spectacle. You must imagine the dry, burning heat, the fine, yellow dust, the white glare of the sunshine, and in the heat and glare and dust the great interminable column of men in ragged khaki crowding down the main street, twenty-two thousand strong, cheering and shouting, with the sweat running off their red faces and cutting little rivulets in the dust that caked their cheeks. Some of them were so glad that, though in the heaviest marching order, they leaped up and down and stepped out of line to dance to the music of the bagpipes. For hours they crowded past, laughing, joking, and cheering, or staring ahead of them, with lips wide apart, panting in the heat and choking with the dust, but always ready to turn again and wave their helmets at Sir George White. It was a pitiful contrast which the two forces presented. The men of the garrison were in clean khaki, pipe-clayed and brushed and polished, but their tunics hung on them as loosely as the flag around its pole, the skin on their cheek-bones was as tight and as yellow as the belly of a drum, their teeth protruded through parched, cracked lips, and hunger, fever, and suffering stared from out their eyes. They were so ill and so feeble that the mere exercise of standing was too severe for their endurance, and many of them collapsed, falling back to the sidewalk, rising to salute only the first troop of each succeeding regiment. This done, they would again sink back and each would sit leaning his head against his musket, or with his forehead resting heavily on his folded arms. In comparison the relieving column looked like giants as they came in with a swinging swagger, their uniforms blackened with mud and sweat and bloodstains, their faces brilliantly crimsoned and blistered and tanned by the dust and sun. They made a picture of strength and health and aggressiveness. Perhaps the contrast was strongest when the battalion of the Devons that had been on foreign service passed the "reserve" battalion which had come from England. The men of the two battalions had parted five years before in India, and they met again in Ladysmith, with the men of one battalion lining the streets, sick, hungry, and yellow, and the others, who had been fighting six weeks to reach it, marching toward them, robust, red-faced, and cheering mightily. As they met they gave a shout of recognition, and the men broke ranks and ran forward, calling each other by name, embracing, shaking hands, and punching each other in the back and shoulders. It was a sight that very few men watched unmoved. Indeed, the whole three hours was one of the most brutal assaults upon the feelings that it has been my lot to endure. One felt he had been entirely lifted out of the politics of the war, and the question of the wrongs of the Boers disappeared before a simple propostiton of brave men saluting brave men. Early in the campaign, when his officers had blundered, General White had dared to write: "I alone am to blame." But in this triumphal procession twenty-two thousand gentlemen in khaki wiped that line off the slate, and wrote, "Well done, sir," in its place, as they passed before him through the town he had defended and saved. III--THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE The Boer "front" was at Brandfort, and, as Lord Roberts was advancing upon that place, one already saw in the head-lines, "The Battle of Brandfort." But before our train drew out of Pretoria Station we learned that the English had just occupied Brandfort, and that the Boer front had been pushed back to Winburg. We decided that Brandfort was an impossible position to hold anyway, and that we had better leave the train at Winburg. We found some selfish consolation for the Boer repulse, in the fact that it shortened our railroad journey by one day. The next morning when we awoke at the Vaal River Station the train despatcher informed us that during the night the "Rooineks" had taken Winburg, and that the burghers were gathered at Smaaldel. We agreed not to go to Winburg, but to stop off at Smaaldel. We also agreed that Winburg was an impossible position to hold. When at eleven o'clock the train reached Kroonstad, we learned than Lord Roberts was in Smaaldel. It was then evident that if our train kept on and the British army kept on there would be a collision. So we stopped at Kroonstad. In talking it over we decided that, owing to its situation, Smaaldel was an impossible position to hold. The Sand River, which runs about forty miles south of Kroonstad, was the last place in the Free State at which the burghers could hope to make a stand, and at the bridge where the railroad spans the river, and at a drift ten miles lower down, the Boers and Free Staters had collected to the number of four thousand. Lord Roberts and his advancing column, which was known to contain thirty-five thousand men, were a few miles distant from the opposite bank of the Sand River. There was an equal chance that the English would attempt to cross at the drift or at the bridge. We thought they would cross at the drift, and stopped for the night at Ventersburg, a town ten miles from the river. Ventersburg, in comparison with Kroonstad, where we had left them rounding up stray burghers and hurrying them to the firing-line, and burning official documents in the streets, was calm. Ventersburg was not destroying incriminating documents nor driving weary burghers from its solitary street. It was making them welcome at Jones's Hotel. The sun had sunk an angry crimson, the sure sign of a bloody battle on the morrow, and a full moon had turned the dusty street and the veldt into which it disappeared into a field of snow. The American scouts had halted at Jones's Hotel, and the American proprietor was giving them drinks free. Their cowboy spurs jingled on the floor of the bar-room, on the boards of the verandas, on the stone floor of the kitchen, and in the billiard-room, where they were playing pool as joyously as though the English were not ten miles away. Grave, awkward burghers rode up, each in a cloud of dust, and leaving his pony to wander in the street and his rifle in a corner, shook hands with every one solemnly, and asked for coffee. Italians of Garibaldi's red-shirted army, Swedes and Danes in semi-uniform, Frenchman in high boots and great sombreros, Germans with the sabre cuts on their cheeks that had been given them at the university, and Russian officers smoking tiny cigarettes crowded the little dining-room, and by the light of a smoky lamp talked in many tongues of Spion Kop, Sannahspost, Fourteen Streams, and the battle on the morrow. They were sun-tanned, dusty, stained, and many of them with wounds in bandages. They came from every capital of Europe, and as each took his turn around the crowded table, they drank to the health of every nation, save one. When they had eaten they picked up the pony's bridle from the dust and melted into the moonlight with a wave of the hand and a "good luck to you." There were no bugles to sound "boots and saddles" for them, no sergeants to keep them in hand, no officers to pay for their rations and issue orders. Each was his own officer, his conscience was his bugle-call, he gave himself orders. They were all equal, all friends; the cowboy and the Russian Prince, the French socialist from La Villette or Montmartre, with a red sash around his velveteen breeches, and the little French nobleman from the Cercle Royal who had never before felt the sun, except when he had played lawn tennis on the Isle de Puteaux. Each had his bandolier and rifle; each was minding his own business, which was the business of all--to try and save the independence of a free people. The presence of these foreigners, with rifle in hand, showed the sentiment and sympathies of the countries from which they came. These men were Europe's real ambassadors to the Republic of the Transvaal. The hundreds of thousands of their countrymen who had remained at home held toward the Boer the same feelings, but they were not so strongly moved; not so strongly as to feel that they must go abroad to fight. These foreigners were not the exception in opinion, they were only exceptionally adventurous, exceptionally liberty-loving. They were not soldiers of fortune, for the soldier of fortune fights for gain. These men receive no pay, no emolument, no reward. They were the few who dared do what the majority of their countrymen in Europe thought. At Jones's Hotel that night, at Ventersburg, it was as though a jury composed of men from all of Europe and the United States had gathered in judgment on the British nation. Outside in the moonlight in the dusty road two bearded burghers had halted me to ask the way to the house of the commandant. Between them on a Boer pony sat a man, erect, slim-waisted, with well-set shoulders and chin in air, one hand holding the reins high, the other with knuckles down resting on his hip. The Boer pony he rode, nor the moonlight, nor the veldt behind him, could disguise his seat and pose. It was as though I had been suddenly thrown back into London and was passing the cuirassed, gauntleted guardsman, motionless on his black charger in the sentry gate in Whitehall. Only now, instead of a steel breastplate, he shivered through his thin khaki, and instead of the high boots, his legs were wrapped in twisted putties. "When did they take you?" I asked. "Early this morning. I was out scouting," he said. He spoke in a voice so well trained and modulated that I tried to see his shoulder-straps. "Oh, you are an officer?" I said. "No, sir, a trooper. First Life Guards." But in the moonlight I could see him smile, whether at my mistake or because it was not a mistake I could not guess. There are many gentlemen rankers in this war. He made a lonely figure in the night, his helmet marking him as conspicuously as a man wearing a high hat in a church. From the billiard-room, where the American scouts were playing pool, came the click of the ivory and loud, light-hearted laughter; from the veranda the sputtering of many strange tongues and the deep, lazy voices of the Boers. There were Boers to the left of him, Boers to the right of him, pulling at their long, drooping pipes and sending up big rings of white smoke in the white moonlight. He dismounted, and stood watching the crowd about him under half-lowered eyelids, but as unmoved as though he saw no one. He threw his arm over the pony's neck and pulled its head down against his chest and began talking to it. It was as though he wished to emphasize his loneliness. "You are not tired, are you? No, you're not," he said. His voice was as kindly as though he were speaking to a child. "Oh, but you can't be tired. What?" he whispered. "A little hungry, perhaps. Yes?" He seemed to draw much comfort from his friend the pony, and the pony rubbed his head against the Englishman's shoulder. "The commandant says he will question you in the morning. You will come with us to the jail now," his captor directed. "You will find three of your people there to talk to. I will go bring a blanket for you, it is getting cold." And they rode off together into the night. Two days later he would have heard through the windows of Jones's Hotel the billiard balls still clicking joyously, but the men who held the cues then would have worn helmets like his own. The original Jones, the proprietor of Jones's Hotel, had fled. The man who succeeded him was also a refugee, and the present manager was an American from Cincinnati. He had never before kept a hotel, but he confided to me that it was not a bad business, as he found that on each drink sold he made a profit of a hundred per cent. The proprietress was a lady from Brooklyn, her husband, another American, was a prisoner with Cronje at St. Helena. She was in considerable doubt as to whether she ought to run before the British arrived, or wait and chance being made a prisoner. She said she would prefer to escape, but what with standing on her feet all day in the kitchen preparing meals for hungry burghers and foreign volunteers, she was too tired to get away. War close at hand consists so largely of commonplaces and trivial details that I hope I may be pardoned for recording the anxieties and cares of this lady from Brooklyn. Her point of view so admirably illustrates one side of war. It is only when you are ten years away from it, or ten thousand miles away from it, that you forget the dull places, and only the moments loom up which are terrible, picturesque, and momentous. We have read, in "Vanity Fair," of the terror and the mad haste to escape of the people of Brussels on the eve of Waterloo. That is the obvious and dramatic side. That is the picture of war you remember and which appeals. As a rule, people like to read of the rumble of cannon through the streets of Ventersburg, the silent, dusty columns of the re-enforcements passing in the moonlight, the galloping hoofs of the aides suddenly beating upon the night air and growing fainter and dying away, the bugle-calls from the camps along the river, the stamp of spurred boots as the general himself enters the hotel and spreads the blue-print maps upon the table, the clanking sabres of his staff, standing behind him in the candle-light, whispering and tugging at their gauntlets while the great man plans his attack. You must stop with the British army if you want bugle-calls and clanking sabres and gauntlets. They are a part of the panoply of war and of warriors. But we saw no warriors at Ventersburg that night, only a few cattle-breeders and farmers who were fighting for the land they had won from the lion and the bushman, and with them a mixed company of gentleman adventurers--gathered around a table discussing other days in other lands. The picture of war which is most familiar is the one of the people of Brussels fleeing from the city with the French guns booming in the distance, or as one sees it in "Shenandoah," where aides gallop on and off the stage and the night signals flash from both sides of the valley. That is the obvious and dramatic side; the other side of war is the night before the battle, at Jones's Hotel; the landlady in the dining-room with her elbows on the table, fretfully deciding that after a day in front of the cooking-stove she is too tired to escape an invading army, declaring that the one place at which she would rather be at that moment was Green's restaurant in Philadelphia, the heated argument that immediately follows between the foreign legion and the Americans as to whether Rector's is not better than the Cafe de Paris, and the general agreement that Ritz cannot hope to run two hotels in London without being robbed. That is how the men talked and acted on the eve of a battle. We heard no galloping aides, no clanking spurs, only the click of the clipped billiard balls as the American scouts (who were killed thirty-six hours later) knocked them about the torn billiard-cloth, the drip, drip of the kerosene from a blazing, sweating lamp, which struck the dirty table-cloth, with the regular ticking of a hall clock, and the complaint of the piano from the hotel parlor, where the correspondent of a Boston paper was picking out "Hello, My Baby," laboriously with one finger. War is not so terribly dramatic or exciting--at the time; and the real trials of war--at the time, and not as one later remembers them--consist largely in looting fodder for your ponies and in bribing the station-master to put on an open truck in which to carry them. We were wakened about two o'clock in the morning by a loud knocking on a door and the distracted voice of the local justice of the peace calling upon the landlord to rouse himself and fly. The English, so the voice informed the various guests, as door after door was thrown open upon the court-yard, were at Ventersburg Station, only two hours away. The justice of the peace wanted to buy or to borrow a horse, and wanted it very badly, but a sleepy-eyed and sceptical audience told him unfeelingly that he was either drunk or dreaming, and only the landlady, now apparently refreshed after her labors, was keenly, even hysterically, intent on instant flight. She sat up in her bed with her hair in curl papers and a revolver beside her, and through her open door shouted advice to her lodgers. But they were unsympathetic, and reassured her only by banging their doors and retiring with profane grumbling, and in a few moments the silence was broken only by the voice of the justice as he fled down the main street of Ventersburg offering his kingdom for a horse. The next morning we rode out to the Sand River to see the Boer positions near the drift, and met President Steyn in his Cape cart coming from them on his way to the bridge. Ever since the occupation of Bloemfontein, the London papers had been speaking of him as "the Late President," as though he were dead. He impressed me, on the contrary, as being very much alive and very much the President, although his executive chamber was the dancing-hall of a hotel and his roof-tree the hood of a Cape cart. He stood in the middle of the road, and talked hopefully of the morrow. He had been waiting, he said, to see the development of the enemy's attack, but the British had not appeared, and, as he believed they would not advance that day, he was going on to the bridge to talk to his burghers and to consult with General Botha. He was much more a man of the world and more the professional politician than President Kruger. I use the words "professional politician" in no unpleasant sense, but meaning rather that he was ready, tactful, and diplomatic. For instance, he gave to whatever he said the air of a confidence reserved especially for the ear of the person to whom he spoke. He showed none of the bitterness which President Kruger exhibits toward the British, but took the tone toward the English Government of the most critical and mused tolerance. Had he heard it, it would have been intensely annoying to any Englishman. "I see that the London _Chronicle_," he said, "asks if, since I have become a rebel, I do not lose my rights as a Barrister of the Temple? Of course, we are no more rebels than the Spaniards were rebels against the United States. By a great stretch of the truth, under the suzerainty clause, the burghers of the Transvaal might be called rebels, but a Free Stater--never! It is not the animosity of the English which I mind," he added, thoughtfully, "but their depressing ignorance of their own history." [Picture: President Steyn on his way to Sand River battle] His cheerfulness and hopefulness, even though one guessed they were assumed, commanded one's admiration. He was being hunted out of one village after another, the miles of territory still free to him were hourly shrinking--in a few days he would be a refugee in the Transvaal; but he stood in the open veldt with all his possessions in the cart behind him, a president without a republic, a man without a home, but still full of pluck, cheerful and unbeaten. The farm-house of General Andrew Cronje stood just above the drift and was the only conspicuous mark for the English guns on our side of the river, so in order to protect it the general had turned it over to the ambulance corps to be used as a hospital. They had lashed a great Red Cross flag to the chimney and filled the clean shelves of the generously built kitchen with bottles of antiseptics and bitter-smelling drugs and surgeons' cutlery. President Steyn gave me a letter to Dr. Rodgers Reid, who was in charge, and he offered us our choice of the deserted bedrooms. It was a most welcome shelter, and in comparison to the cold veldt the hospital was a haven of comfort. Hundreds of cooing doves, stumbling over the roof of the barn, helped to fill the air with their peaceful murmur. It was a strange overture to a battle, but in time I learned to not listen for any more martial prelude. The Boer does not make a business of war, and when he is not actually fighting he pretends that he is camping out for pleasure. In his laager there are no warlike sounds, no sentries challenge, no bugles call. He has no duties to perform, for his Kaffir boys care for his pony, gather his wood, and build his fire. He has nothing to do but to wait for the next fight, and to make the time pass as best he can. In camp the burghers are like a party of children. They play games with each other, and play tricks upon each other, and engage in numerous wrestling bouts, a form of contest of which they seem particularly fond. They are like children also in that they are direct and simple, and as courteous as the ideal child should be. Indeed, if I were asked what struck me as the chief characteristics of the Boer I should say they were the two qualities which the English have always disallowed him, his simplicity rather than his "cuteness," and his courtesy rather than his boorishness. The force that waited at the drift by Cronje's farm as it lay spread out on both sides of the river looked like a gathering of Wisconsin lumbermen, of Adirondack guides and hunters halted at Paul Smith's, like a Methodist camp-meeting limited entirely to men. The eye sought in vain for rows of tents, for the horses at the picket line, for the flags that marked the head-quarters, the commissariat, the field telegraph, the field post-office, the A. S. C., the R. M. A. C., the C. O., and all the other combinations of letters of the military alphabet. I remembered that great army of General Buller's as I saw it stretching out over the basin of the Tugela, like the children of Israel in number, like Tammany Hall in organization and discipline, with not a tent-pin missing; with hospitals as complete as those established for a hundred years in the heart of London; with search-lights, heliographs, war balloons, Roentgen rays, pontoon bridges, telegraph wagons, and trenching tools, farriers with anvils, major-generals, mapmakers, "gallopers," intelligence departments, even biographs and press-censors; every kind of thing and every kind of man that goes to make up a British army corps. I knew that seven miles from us just such another completely equipped and disciplined column was advancing to the opposite bank of the Sand River. And opposed to it was this merry company of Boer farmers lying on the grass, toasting pieces of freshly killed ox on the end of a stick, their hobbled ponies foraging for themselves a half-mile away, a thousand men without a tent among them, without a field-glass. It was a picnic, a pastoral scene, not a scene of war. On the hills overlooking the drift were the guns, but down along the banks the burghers were sitting in circles singing the evening hymns, many of them sung to the tunes familiar in the service of the Episcopal Church, so that it sounded like a Sunday evening in the country at home. At the drift other burghers were watering the oxen, bathing and washing in the cold river; around the camp-fires others were smoking luxuriously, with their saddles for pillows. The evening breeze brought the sweet smell of burning wood, a haze of smoke from many fires, the lazy hum of hundreds of voices rising in the open air, the neighing of many horses, and the swift soothing rush of the river. When morning came to Cronje's farm it brought with it no warning nor sign of battle. We began to believe that the British army was an invention of the enemy's. So we cooked bacon and fed the doves, and smoked on the veranda, moving our chairs around it with the sun, and argued as to whether we should stay where we were or go on to the bridge. At noon it was evident there would be no fight at the drift that day, so we started along the bank of the river, with the idea of reaching the bridge before nightfall. The trail lay on the English side of the river, so that we were in constant concern lest our white-hooded Cape cart would be seen by some of their scouts and we would be taken prisoners and forced to travel all the way back to Cape Town. We saw many herds of deer, but no scouts or lancers, and, such being the effect of many kopjes, lost all ideas as to where we were. We knew we were bearing steadily south toward Lord Roberts, who as we later learned, was then some three miles distant. About two o'clock his guns opened on our left, so we at least knew that we were still on the wrong side of the river and that we must be between the Boer and the English artillery. Except for that, our knowledge of our geographical position was a blank, and we accordingly "out-spanned" and cooked more bacon. "Outspanning" is unharnessing the ponies and mules and turning them out graze, and takes three minutes--"inspanning" is trying to catch them again, and takes from three to five hours. We started back over the trail over which we had come, and just at sunset saw a man appear from behind a rock and disappear again. Whether he was Boer or Briton I could not tell, but while I was examining the rock with my glasses two Boers came galloping forward and ordered me to "hands up." To sit with both arms in the air is an extremely ignominious position, and especially annoying if the pony is restless, so I compromised by waving my whip as high as I could reach with one hand, and still held in the horse with the other. The third man from behind the rock rode up at the same time. They said they had watched us coming from the English lines, and that we were prisoners. We assured them that for us nothing could be more satisfactory, because we now knew where we were, and because they had probably saved us a week's trip to Cape Town. They examined and approved of our credentials, and showed us the proper trail which we managed to follow until they had disappeared, when the trail disappeared also, and we were again lost in what seemed an interminable valley. But just before nightfall the fires of the commando showed in front of us and we rode into the camp of General Christian De Wet. He told us we could not reach the bridge that night, and showed us a farm-house on a distant kopje where we could find a place to spread our blankets. I was extremely glad to meet him, as he and General Botha are the most able and brave of the Boer generals. He was big, manly, and of impressive size, and, although he speaks English, he dictated to his adjutant many long and Old-World compliments to the Greater Republic across the seas. We found the people in the farm-house on the distant kopje quite hysterical over the near presence of the British, and the entire place in such an uproar that we slept out in the veldt. In the morning we were awakened by the sound of the Vickar-Maxim or the "pom-pom" as the English call it, or "bomb-Maxim" as the Boers call it. By any name it was a remarkable gun and the most demoralizing of any of the smaller pieces which have been used in this campaign. One of its values is that its projectiles throw up sufficient dust to enable the gunner to tell exactly where they strike, and within a few seconds he is able to alter the range accordingly. In this way it is its own range-finder. Its bark is almost as dangerous as its bite, for its reports have a brisk, insolent sound like a postman's knock, or a cooper hammering rapidly on an empty keg, and there is an unexplainable mocking sound to the reports, as though the gun were laughing at you. The English Tommies used to call it very aptly the "hyena gun." I found it much less offensive from the rear than when I was with the British, and in front of it. From the top of a kopje we saw that the battle had at last begun and that the bridge was the objective point. The English came up in great lines and blocks and from so far away and in such close order that at first in spite of the khaki they looked as though they wore uniforms of blue. They advanced steadily, and two hours later when we had ridden to a kopje still nearer the bridge, they were apparently in the same formation as when we had first seen them, only now farms that had lain far in their rear were overrun by them and they encompassed the whole basin. An army of twenty-five thousand men advancing in full view across a great plain appeals to you as something entirely lacking in the human element. You do not think of it as a collection of very tired, dusty, and perspiring men with aching legs and parched lips, but as an unnatural phenomenon, or a gigantic monster which wipes out a railway station, a cornfield, and a village with a single clutch of one of its tentacles. You would as soon attribute human qualities to a plague, a tidal wave, or a slowly slipping landslide. One of the tentacles composed of six thousand horse had detached itself and crossed the river below the bridge, where it was creeping up on Botha's right. We could see the burghers galloping before it toward Ventersburg. At the bridge General Botha and President Steyn stood in the open road and with uplifted arms waved the Boers back, calling upon them to stand. But the burghers only shook their heads and with averted eyes grimly and silently rode by them on the other side. They knew they were flanked, they knew the men in the moving mass in front of them were in the proportion of nine to one. When you looked down upon the lines of the English army advancing for three miles across the plain, one could hardly blame them. The burghers did not even raise their Mausers. One bullet, the size of a broken slate-pencil, falling into a block three miles across and a mile deep, seems so inadequate. It was like trying to turn back the waves of the sea with a blow-pipe. It is true they had held back as many at Colenso, but the defensive positions there were magnificent, and since then six months had passed, during which time the same thirty thousand men who had been fighting then were fighting still, while the enemy was always new, with fresh recruits and re-enforcements arriving daily. As the English officers at Durban, who had so lately arrived from home that they wore swords, used to say with the proud consciousness of two hundred thousand men back of them: "It won't last much longer now. The Boers have had their belly full of fighting. They're fed up on it; that's what it is; they're fed up." They forgot that the Boers, who for three months had held Buller back at the Tugela, were the same Boers who were rushed across the Free State to rescue Cronje from Roberts, and who were then sent to meet the relief column at Fourteen Streams, and were then ordered back again to harass Roberts at Sannahspost, and who, at last, worn out, stale, heartsick, and hopeless at the unequal odds and endless fighting, fell back at Sand River. For three months thirty thousand men had been attempting the impossible task of endeavoring to meet an equal number of the enemy in three different places at the same time. I have seen a retreat in Greece when the men, before they left the trenches, stood up in them and raged and cursed at the advancing Turk, cursed at their government, at their king, at each other, and retreated with shame in their faces because they did so. But the retreat of the burghers of the Free State was not like that. They rose one by one and saddled their ponies, with the look in their faces of men who had been attending the funeral of a friend and who were leaving just before the coffin was swallowed in the grave. Some of them, for a long time after the greater number of the commando had ridden away, sat upon the rocks staring down into the sunny valley below them, talking together gravely, rising to take a last look at the territory which was their own. The shells of the victorious British sang triumphantly over the heads of their own artillery, bursting impotently in white smoke or tearing up the veldt in fountains of dust. But they did not heed them. They did not even send a revengeful bullet into the approaching masses. The sweetness of revenge could not pay for what they had lost. They looked down upon the farm-houses of men they knew; upon their own farm-houses rising in smoke; they saw the Englishmen like a pest of locusts settling down around gardens and farm-houses still nearer, and swallowing them up. Their companions, already far on the way to safety, waved to them from the veldt to follow; an excited doctor carrying a wounded man warned us that the English were just below, storming the hill. "Our artillery is aiming at five hundred yards," he shouted, but still the remaining burghers stood immovable, leaning on their rifles, silent, homeless, looking down without rage or show of feeling at the great waves of khaki sweeping steadily toward them, and possessing their land. THE JAPANESE-RUSSIAN WAR: BATTLES I DID NOT SEE We knew it was a battle because the Japanese officers told us it was. In other wars I had seen other battles, many sorts of battles, but I had never seen a battle like that one. Most battles are noisy, hurried, and violent, giving rise to an unnatural thirst and to the delusion that, by some unhappy coincidence, every man on the other side is shooting only at you. This delusion is not peculiar to myself. Many men have told me that in the confusion of battle they always get this exaggerated idea of their own importance. Down in Cuba I heard a colonel inform a group of brother officers that a Spanish field-piece had marked him for its own, and for an hour had been pumping shrapnel at him and at no one else. The interesting part of the story was that he believed it. But the battle of Anshantien was in no way disquieting. It was a noiseless, odorless, rubber-tired battle. So far as we were concerned it consisted of rings of shrapnel smoke floating over a mountain pass many miles distant. So many miles distant that when, with a glass, you could see a speck of fire twinkle in the sun like a heliograph, you could not tell whether it was the flash from the gun or the flame from the shell. Neither could you tell whether the cigarette rings issued from the lips of the Japanese guns or from those of the Russians. The only thing about that battle of which you were certain was that it was a perfectly safe battle to watch. It was the first one I ever witnessed that did not require you to calmly smoke a pipe in order to conceal the fact that you were scared. But soothing as it was, the battle lacked what is called the human interest. There may have been men behind the guns, but as they were also behind Camel Hill and Saddle Mountain, eight miles away, our eyes, like those of Mr. Samuel Weller, "being only eyes," were not able to discover them. Our teachers, the three Japanese officers who were detailed to tell us about things we were not allowed to see, gazed at the scene of carnage with well-simulated horror. Their expressions of countenance showed that should any one move the battle eight miles nearer, they were prepared to sell their lives dearly. When they found that none of us were looking at them or their battle, they were hurt. The reason no one was looking at them was because most of us had gone to sleep. The rest, with a bitter experience of Japanese promises, had doubted there would be a battle, and had prepared themselves with newspapers. And so, while eight miles away the preliminary battle to Liao-Yang was making history, we were lying on the grass reading two months' old news of the St. Louis Convention. The sight greatly disturbed our teachers. "You complain," they said, "because you are not allowed to see anything, and now, when we show you a battle, you will not look." Lewis, of the _Herald_, eagerly seized his glasses and followed the track of the Siberian railway as it disappeared into the pass. "I beg your pardon, but I didn't know it was a battle," he apologized politely. "I thought it was a locomotive at Anshantien Station blowing off steam." And, so, teacher gave him a bad mark for disrespect. It really was trying. In order to see this battle we had travelled half around the world, had then waited four wasted months at Tokio, then had taken a sea voyage of ten days, then for twelve days had ridden through mud and dust in pursuit of the army, then for twelve more days, while battles raged ten miles away, had been kept prisoners in a compound where five out of the eighteen correspondents were sick with dysentery or fever, and finally as a reward we were released from captivity and taken to see smoke rings eight miles away! That night a round-robin, which was signed by all, was sent to General Oku, pointing out to him that unless we were allowed nearer to his army than eight miles, our usefulness to the people who paid us our salaries was at an end. While waiting for an answer to this we were led out to see another battle. Either that we might not miss one minute of it, or that we should be too sleepy to see anything of it, we were started in black darkness, at three o'clock in the morning, the hour, as we are told, when one's vitality is at its lowest, and one which should be reserved for the exclusive use of burglars and robbers of hen roosts. Concerning that hour I learned this, that whatever its effects may be upon human beings, it finds a horse at his most strenuous moment. At that hour by the light of three paper lanterns we tried to saddle eighteen horses, donkeys, and ponies, and the sole object of each was to kick the light out of the lantern nearest him. We finally rode off through a darkness that was lightened only by a gray, dripping fog, and in a silence broken only by the patter of rain upon the corn that towered high above our heads and for many miles hemmed us in. After an hour, Sataki, the teacher who acted as our guide, lost the trail and Captain Lionel James, of the _Times_, who wrote "On the Heels of De Wet," found it for him. Sataki, so our two other keepers told us, is an authority on international law, and he may be all of that and know all there is to know of three-mile limits and paper blockades, but when it came to picking up a trail, even in the bright sunlight when it lay weltering beneath his horse's nostrils, we always found that any correspondent with an experience of a few campaigns was of more general use. The trail ended at a muddy hill, a bare sugar-loaf of a hill, as high as the main tent of a circus and as abruptly sloping away. It was swept by a damp, chilling wind; a mean, peevish rain washed its sides, and they were so steep that if we sat upon them we tobogganed slowly downward, ploughing up the mud with our boot heels. Hungry, sleepy, in utter darkness, we clung to this slippery mound in its ocean of whispering millet like sailors wrecked in mid-sea upon a rock, and waited for the day. After two hours a gray mist came grudgingly, trees and rocks grew out of it, trenches appeared at our feet, and what had before looked like a lake of water became a mud village. Then, like shadows, the foreign attaches, whom we fondly hoped might turn out to be Russian Cossacks coming to take us prisoners and carry us off to breakfast, rode up in silence and were halted at the base of the hill. It seemed now, the audience being assembled, the orchestra might begin. But no hot-throated cannon broke the chilling, dripping, silence, no upheaval of the air spoke of Canet guns, no whirling shrapnel screamed and burst. Instead, the fog rolled back showing us miles of waving corn, the wet rails of the Siberian Railroad glistening in the rain, and, masking the horizon, the same mountains from which the day before the smoke rings had ascended. They now were dark, brooding, their tops hooded in clouds. Somewhere in front of us hidden in the Kiao liang, hidden in the tiny villages, crouching on the banks of streams, concealed in trenches that were themselves concealed, Oku's army, the army to which we were supposed to belong, was buried from our sight. And in the mountains on our right lay the Fourth Army, and twenty miles still farther to the right, Kuroki was closing in upon Liao-Yang. All of this we guessed, what we were told was very different, what we saw was nothing. In all, four hundred thousand men were not farther from us than four to thirty miles--and we saw nothing. We watched as the commissariat wagons carrying food to these men passed us by, the hospital stores passed us by, the transport carts passed us by, the coolies with reserve mounts, the last wounded soldier, straggler, and camp-follower passed us by. Like a big tidal wave Oku's army had swept forward leaving its unwelcome guests, the attaches and correspondents, forty lonely foreigners among seventy thousand Japanese, stranded upon a hill miles in the rear. Perhaps, as war, it was necessary, but it was not magnificent. That night Major Okabe, our head teacher, gave us the official interpretation of what had occurred. The Russians, he said, had retreated from Liao-Yang and were in open flight. Unless General Kuroki, who, he said, was fifty miles north of us, could cut them off they would reach Mukden in ten days, and until then there would be no more fighting. The Japanese troops, he said, were in Liao-Yang, it had been abandoned without a fight. This he told us on the evening of the 27th of August. The next morning Major Okabe delivered the answer of General Oku to our round-robin. He informed us that we had been as near to the fighting as we ever would be allowed to go. The nearest we had been to any fighting was four miles. Our experience had taught us that when the Japanese promised us we would be allowed to do something we wanted to do, they did not keep their promise; but that when they said we would not be allowed to do something we wanted to do, they spoke the truth. Consequently, when General Oku declared the correspondents would be held four miles in the rear, we believed he would keep his word. And, as we now know, he did, the only men who saw the fighting that later ensued being those who disobeyed his orders and escaped from their keepers. Those who had been ordered by their papers to strictly obey the regulations of the Japanese, and the military attaches, were kept by Oku nearly six miles in the rear. [Picture: War correspondents in Manchuria. From a photograph by Guy Scull. R. H. Davis (Collier's), W. H. Lewis (New York Herald), John Fox, Jr. (Scribner's), W. H. Brill (Associated Press)] On the receipt of Oku's answer to the correspondents, Mr. John Fox, Jr., of _Scribner's Magazine_, Mr. Milton Prior, of the London _Illustrated News_, Mr. George Lynch, of the London _Morning Chronicle_, and myself left the army. We were very sorry to go. Apart from the fact that we had not been allowed to see anything of the military operations, we were enjoying ourselves immensely. Personally, I never went on a campaign in a more delightful country nor with better companions than the men acting as correspondents with the Second Army. For the sake of such good company, and to see more of Manchuria, I personally wanted to keep on. But I was not being paid to go camping with a set of good fellows. Already the Japanese had wasted six months of my time and six months of Mr. Collier's money, Mr. Fox had been bottled up for a period of equal length, while Mr. Prior and Mr. Lynch had been prisoners in Tokio for even four months longer. And now that Okabe assured us that Liao-Yang was already taken, and Oku told us if there were any fighting we would not be allowed to witness it, it seemed a good time to quit. Other correspondents would have quit then, as most of them did ten days later, but that their work and ours in a slight degree differed. As we were not working for daily papers, we used the cable but seldom, while they used it every day. Each evening Okabe brought them the official account of battles and of the movements of the troops, which news of events which they had not witnessed they sent to their separate papers. But for our purposes it was necessary we should see things for ourselves. For, contrary to the popular accusation, no matter how flattering it may be, we could not describe events at which we were not present. But what mainly moved us to decide, was the statements of Okabe, the officer especially detailed by the War Office to aid and instruct us, to act as our guide, philosopher, and friend, our only official source of information, who told us that Liao-Yang was occupied by the Japanese and that the Russians were in retreat. He even begged me personally to come with him into Liao-Yang on the 29th and see how it was progressing under the control of the Japanese authorities. Okabe's news meant that the great battle Kuropatkin had promised at Liao-Yang, and which we had come to see, would never take place. Why Okabe lied I do not know. Whether Oku had lied to him, or whether it was Baron-General Kodama or Major-General Fukushima who had instructed him to so grossly misinform us, it is impossible to say. While in Tokio no one ever more frequently, nor more unblushingly, made statements that they knew were untrue than did Kodama and Fukushima, but none of their deceptions had ever harmed us so greatly as did the lie they put into the mouth of Okabe. Not only had the Japanese _not_ occupied Liao-Yang on the evening of the 27th of August, but later, as everybody knows, they had _to fight six days_ to get into it. And Kuroki, so far from being fifty miles north toward Mukden as Okabe said he was, was twenty miles to the east on our right preparing for the closing in movement which was just about to begin. Three days after we had left the army, the greatest battle since Sedan was waged for six days. So our half year of time and money, of dreary waiting, of daily humiliations at the hands of officers with minds diseased by suspicion, all of which would have been made up to us by the sight of this one great spectacle, was to the end absolutely lost to us. Perhaps we made a mistake in judgment. As the cards fell, we certainly did. But after the event it is easy to be wise. For the last fifteen years, had I known as much the night before the Grand Prix was run as I did the next afternoon, I would be passing rich. The only proposition before us was this: There was small chance of any immediate fighting. If there were fighting we could not see it. Confronted with the same conditions again, I would decide in exactly the same manner. Our misfortune lay in the fact that our experience with other armies had led us to believe that officers and gentlemen speak the truth, that men with titles of nobility, and with the higher titles of general and major-general, do not lie. In that we were mistaken. The parting from the other correspondents was a brutal attack upon the feelings which, had we known they were to follow us two weeks later to Tokio, would have been spared us. It is worth recording why, after waiting many months to get to the front, they in their turn so soon left it. After each of the big battles before Liao-Yang they handed the despatches they had written for their papers to Major Okabe. Each day he told them these despatches had been censored and forwarded. After three days he brought back all the despatches and calmly informed the correspondents that not one of their cables had been sent. It was the final affront of Japanese duplicity. In recording the greatest battle of modern times three days had been lost, and by a lie. The object of their coming to the Far East had been frustrated. It was fatuous to longer expect from Kodama and his pupils fair play or honest treatment, and in the interest of their employers and to save their own self-respect, the representatives of all the most important papers in the world, the _Times_, of London, the New York _Herald_, the Paris _Figaro_, the London _Daily Telegraph, Daily Mail_, and _Morning Post_, quit the Japanese army. Meanwhile, unconscious of what we had missed, the four of us were congratulating ourselves upon our escape, and had started for New-Chwang. Our first halt was at Hai-Cheng, in the same compound in which for many days with the others we had been imprisoned. But our halt was a brief one. We found the compound glaring in the sun, empty, silent, filled only with memories of the men who, with their laughter, their stories, and their songs had made it live. But now all were gone, the old familiar faces and the familiar voices, and we threw our things back on the carts and hurried away. The trails between Hai-Cheng and the sea made the worst going we had encountered in Manchuria. You soon are convinced that the time has not been long since this tract of land lay entirely under the waters of the Gulf of Liaotung. You soon scent the salt air, and as you flounder in the alluvial deposits of ages, you expect to find the salt-water at the very roots of the millet. Water lies in every furrow of the miles of cornfields, water flows in streams in the roads, water spreads in lakes over the compounds, it oozes from beneath the very walls of the go-downs. You would not be surprised at any moment to see the tide returning to envelop you. In this liquid mud a cart can make a trail by the simple process of continuing forward. The havoc is created in the millet and the ditches its iron-studded wheels dig in the mud leave to the eyes of the next comer as perfectly good a trail as the one that has been in use for many centuries. Consequently the opportunities for choosing the wrong trail are excellent, and we embraced every opportunity. But friendly Chinamen, and certainly they are a friendly, human people, again and again cheerfully went far out of their way to guide us back to ours, and so, after two days, we found ourselves five miles from New-Chwang. Here we agreed to separate. We had heard a marvellous tale that at New-Chwang there was ice, champagne, and a hotel with enamelled bath-tubs. We had unceasingly discussed the probability of this being true, and what we would do with these luxuries if we got them, and when we came so near to where they were supposed to be, it was agreed that one of us would ride on ahead and command them, while the others followed with the carts. The lucky number fell to John Fox, and he left us at a gallop. He was to engage rooms for the four, and to arrange for the care of seven Japanese interpreters and servants, nine Chinese coolies, and nineteen horses and mules. We expected that by eight o'clock we would be eating the best dinner John Fox could order. We were mistaken. Not that John Fox had not ordered the dinner, but no one ate it but John Fox. The very minute he left us Priory's cart turned turtle in the mud, and the largest of his four mules lay down in it and knocked off work. The mule was hot and very tired, and the mud was soft, cool, and wet, so he burrowed under its protecting surface until all we could see of him was his ears. The coolies shrieked at him, Prior issued ultimatums at him, the Japanese servants stood on dry land fifteen feet away and talked about him, but he only snuggled deeper into his mud bath. When there is no more of a mule to hit than his ears, he has you at a great disadvantage, and when the coolies waded in and tugged at his head, we found that the harder they tugged, the deeper they sank. When they were so far out of sight that we were in danger of losing them too, we ordered them to give up the struggle and unload the cart. Before we got it out of dry-dock, reloaded, and again in line with the other carts it was nine o'clock, and dark. In the meantime, Lynch, his sense of duty weakened by visions of enamelled bathtubs filled with champagne and floating lumps of ice, had secretly abandoned us, stealing away in the night and leaving us to follow. This, not ten minutes after we had started, Mr. Prior decided that he would not do, so he camped out with the carts in a village, while, dinnerless, supperless, and thirsty, I rode on alone. I reached New-Chwang at midnight, and after being refused admittance by the Japanese soldiers, was finally rescued by the Number One man from the Manchuria Hotel, who had been sent out by Fox with two sikhs and a lantern to find me. For some minutes I dared not ask him the fateful questions. It was better still to hope than to put one's fortunes to the test. But I finally summoned my courage. "Ice, have got?" I begged. "Have got," he answered. There was a long, grateful pause, and then in a voice that trembled, I again asked, "Champagne, have got?" Number One man nodded. "Have got," he said. I totally forgot until the next morning to ask about the enamelled bathtubs. When I arrived John Fox had gone to bed, and as it was six weeks since any of us had seen a real bed, I did not wake him. Hence, he did not know I was in the hotel, and throughout the troubles that followed I slept soundly. Meanwhile, Lynch, as a punishment for running away from us, lost his own way, and, after stumbling into an old sow and her litter of pigs, which on a dark night is enough to startle any one, stumbled into a Japanese outpost, was hailed as a Russian spy, and made prisoner. This had one advantage, as he now was able to find New-Chwang, to which place he was marched, closely guarded, arriving there at half-past two in the morning. Since he ran away from us he had been wandering about on foot for ten hours. He sent a note to Mr. Little, the British Consul, and to Bush Brothers, the kings of New-Chwang, and, still tormented by visions of ice and champagne, demanded that his captors take him to the Manchuria Hotel. There he swore they would find a pass from Fukushima allowing him to enter New-Chwang, three friends who could identify him, four carts, seven servants, nine coolies, and nineteen animals. The commandant took him to the Manchuria Hotel, where instead of this wealth of corroborative detail they found John Fox in bed. As Prior, the only one of us not in New-Chwang, had the pass from Fukushima, permitting us to enter it, there was no one to prove what either Lynch or Fox said, and the officer flew into a passion and told Fox he would send both of them out of town on the first train. Mr. Fox was annoyed at being pulled from his bed at three in the morning to be told he was a Russian spy, so he said that there was not a train fast enough to get him out of New-Chwang as quickly as he wanted to go, or, for that matter, out of Japan and away from the Japanese people. At this the officer, being a Yale graduate, and speaking very pure English, told Mr. Fox to "shut up," and Mr. Fox being a Harvard graduate, with an equally perfect command of English, pure and undefiled, shook his fist in the face of the Japanese officer and told him to "shut up yourself." Lynch, seeing the witness he had summoned for the defence about to plunge into conflict with his captor, leaped unhappily from foot to foot, and was heard diplomatically suggesting that all hands should adjourn for ice and champagne. "If I were a spy," demanded Fox, "do you suppose I would have ridden into your town on a white horse and registered at your head-quarters and then ordered four rooms at the principal hotel and accommodations for seven servants, nine coolies, and nineteen animals? Is that the way a Russian spy works? Does he go around with a brass band?" The officer, unable to answer in kind this excellent reasoning, took a mean advantage of his position by placing both John and Lynch under arrest, and at the head of each bed a Japanese policeman to guard their slumbers. The next morning Prior arrived with the pass, and from the decks of the first out-bound English steamer Fox hurled through the captain's brass speaking-trumpet our farewells to the Japanese, as represented by the gun-boats in the harbor. Their officers, probably thinking his remarks referred to floating mines, ran eagerly to the side. But our ship's captain tumbled from the bridge, rescued his trumpet, and begged Fox, until we were under the guns of a British man-of-war, to issue no more farewell addresses. The next evening we passed into the Gulf of Pe-chi-li, and saw above Port Arthur the great guns flashing in the night, and the next day we anchored in the snug harbor of Chefoo. I went at once to the cable station to cable _Collier's_ I was returning, and asked the Chinaman in charge if my name was on his list of those correspondents who could send copy collect. He said it was; and as I started to write, he added with grave politeness, "I congratulate you." For a moment I did not lift my eyes. I felt a chill creeping down my spine. I knew what sort of a blow was coming, and I was afraid of it. "Why?" I asked. The Chinaman bowed and smiled. "Because you are the first," he said. "You are the only correspondent to arrive who has seen the battle of Liao-Yang." The chill turned to a sort of nausea. I knew then what disaster had fallen, but I cheated myself by pretending the man was misinformed. "There was no battle," I protested. "The Japanese told me themselves they had entered Liao-Yang without firing a shot." The cable operator was a gentleman. He saw my distress, saw what it meant and delivered the blow with the distaste of a physician who must tell a patient he cannot recover. Gently, reluctantly, with real sympathy he said, "They have been fighting for six days." I went over to a bench, and sat down; and when Lynch and Fox came in and took one look at me, they guessed what had happened. When the Chinaman told them of what we had been cheated, they, in their turn, came to the bench, and collapsed. No one said anything. No one even swore. Six months we had waited only to miss by three days the greatest battle since Gettysburg and Sedan. And by a lie. For six months we had tasted all the indignities of the suspected spy, we had been prisoners of war, we had been ticket-of-leave men, and it is not difficult to imagine our glad surprise that same day when we saw in the harbor the white hull of the cruiser _Cincinnati_ with our flag lifting at her stern. We did not know a soul on board, but that did not halt us. As refugees, as fleeing political prisoners, as American slaves escaping from their Japanese jailers, we climbed over the side and demanded protection and dinner. We got both. Perhaps it was not good to rest on that bit of drift-wood, that atom of our country that had floated far from the mainland and now formed an island of American territory in the harbor of Chefoo. Perhaps we were not content to sit at the mahogany table in the glistening white and brass bound wardroom surrounded by those eager, sunburned faces, to hear sea slang and home slang in the accents of Maine, Virginia, and New York City. We forgot our dark-skinned keepers with the slanting, suspicious, unfriendly eyes, with tongues that spoke the one thing and meant the other. All the memories of those six months of deceit, of broken pledges, of unnecessary humiliations, of petty unpoliteness from a half-educated, half-bred, conceited, and arrogant people fell from us like a heavy knapsack. We were again at home. Again with our own people. Out of the happy confusion of that great occasion I recall two toasts. One was offered by John Fox. "Japan for the Japanese, and the Japanese for Japan." Even the Japanese wardroom boy did not catch its significance. The other was a paraphrase of a couplet in reference to our brown brothers of the Philippines first spoken in Manila. "To the Japanese: 'They may be brothers to Commodore Perry, but they ain't no brothers of mine.'" It was a joyous night. Lieutenant Gilmore, who had been an historic prisoner in the Philippines, so far sympathized with our escape from the Yellow Peril as to intercede with the captain to extend the rules of the ship. And those rules that were incapable of extending broke. Indeed, I believe we broke everything but the eight-inch gun. And finally we were conducted to our steamer in a launch crowded with slim-waisted, broad-chested youths in white mess jackets, clasping each other's shoulders and singing, "Way down in my heart, I have a feeling for you, a sort of feeling for you"; while the officer of the deck turned his back, and discreetly fixed his night glass upon a suspicious star. It was an American cruiser that rescued this war correspondent from the bondage of Japan. It will require all the battle-ships in the Japanese navy to force him back to it. A WAR CORRESPONDENT'S KIT I am going to try to describe some kits and outfits I have seen used in different parts of the world by travellers and explorers, and in different campaigns by army officers and war correspondents. Among the articles, the reader may learn of some new thing which, when next he goes hunting, fishing, or exploring, he can adapt to his own uses. That is my hope, but I am sceptical. I have seldom met the man who would allow any one else to select his kit, or who would admit that any other kit was better than the one he himself had packed. It is a very delicate question. The same article that one declares is the most essential to his comfort, is the very first thing that another will throw into the trail. A man's outfit is a matter which seems to touch his private honor. I have heard veterans sitting around a camp-fire proclaim the superiority of their kits with a jealousy, loyalty, and enthusiasm they would not exhibit for the flesh of their flesh and the bone of their bone. On a campaign, you may attack a man's courage, the flag he serves, the newspaper for which he works, his intelligence, or his camp manners, and he will ignore you; but if you criticise his patent water-bottle he will fall upon you with both fists. So, in recommending any article for an outfit, one needs to be careful. An outfit lends itself to dispute, because the selection of its component parts is not an exact science. It should be, but it is not. A doctor on his daily rounds can carry in a compact little satchel almost everything he is liable to need; a carpenter can stow away in one box all the tools of his trade. But an outfit is not selected on any recognized principles. It seems to be a question entirely of temperament. As the man said when his friends asked him how he made his famous cocktail, "It depends on my mood." The truth is that each man in selecting his outfit generally follows the lines of least resistance. With one, the pleasure he derives from his morning bath outweighs the fact that for the rest of the day he must carry a rubber bathtub. Another man is hearty, tough, and inured to an out-of-door life. He can sleep on a pile of coal or standing on his head, and he naturally scorns to carry a bed. But another man, should he sleep all night on the ground, the next day would be of no use to himself, his regiment, or his newspaper. So he carries a folding cot and the more fortunate one of tougher fibre laughs at him. Another man says that the only way to campaign is to travel "light," and sets forth with rain-coat and field-glass. He honestly thinks that he travels light because his intelligence tells him it is the better way; but, as a matter of fact, he does so because he is lazy. Throughout the entire campaign he borrows from his friends, and with that _camaraderie_ and unselfishness that never comes to the surface so strongly as when men are thrown together in camp, they lend him whatever he needs. When the war is over, he is the man who goes about saying: "Some of those fellows carried enough stuff to fill a moving van. Now, look what I did. I made the entire campaign on a tooth-brush." As a matter of fact, I have a sneaking admiration for the man who dares to borrow. His really is the part of wisdom. But at times he may lose himself in places where he can neither a borrower nor a lender be, and there are men so tenderly constituted that they cannot keep another man hungry while they use his coffee-pot. So it is well to take a few things with you--if only to lend them to the men who travel "light." On hunting and campaigning trips the climate, the means of transport, and the chance along the road of obtaining food and fodder vary so greatly that it is not possible to map out an outfit which would serve equally well for each of them. What on one journey was your most precious possession on the next is a useless nuisance. On two trips I have packed a tent weighing, with the stakes, fifty pounds, which, as we slept in huts, I never once had occasion to open; while on other trips in countries that promised to be more or less settled, I had to always live under canvas, and sometimes broke camp twice a day. In one war, in which I worked for an English paper, we travelled like major-generals. When that war started few thought it would last over six weeks, and many of the officers regarded it in the light of a picnic. In consequence, they mobilized as they never would have done had they foreseen what was to come, and the mess contractor grew rich furnishing, not only champagne, which in campaigns in fever countries has saved the life of many a good man, but cases of even port and burgundy, which never greatly helped any one. Later these mess supplies were turned over to the field-hospitals, but at the start every one travelled with more than he needed and more than the regulations allowed, and each correspondent was advised that if he represented a first-class paper and wished to "save his face" he had better travel in state. Those who did not, found the staff and censor less easy of access, and the means of obtaining information more difficult. But it was a nuisance. If, when a man halted at your tent, you could not stand him whiskey and sparklet soda, Egyptian cigarettes, compressed soup, canned meats, and marmalade, your paper was suspected of trying to do it "on the cheap," and not only of being mean, but, as this was a popular war, unpatriotic. When the army stripped down to work all this was discontinued, but at the start I believe there were carried with that column as many tins of tan-leather dressing as there were rifles. On that march my own outfit was as unwieldy as a gypsy's caravan. It consisted of an enormous cart, two oxen, three Basuto ponies, one Australian horse, three servants, and four hundred pounds of supplies and baggage. When it moved across the plain it looked as large as a Fall River boat. Later, when I joined the opposing army, and was not expected to maintain the dignity of a great London daily, I carried all my belongings strapped to my back, or to the back of my one pony, and I was quite as comfortable, clean, and content as I had been with the private car and the circus tent. Throughout the Greek war, as there were no horses to be had for love or money, we walked, and I learned then that when one has to carry his own kit the number of things he can do without is extraordinary. While I marched with the army, offering my kingdom for a horse, I carried my outfit in saddle-bags thrown over my shoulder. And I think it must have been a good outfit, for I never bought anything to add to it or threw anything away. I submit that as a fair test of a kit. Further on, should any reader care to know how for several months one may keep going with an outfit he can pack in two saddle-bags, I will give a list of the articles which in three campaigns I carried in mine. Personally, I am for travelling "light," but at the very start one is confronted with the fact that what one man calls light to another savors of luxury. I call fifty pounds light; in Japan we each were allowed the officer's allowance of sixty-six pounds. Lord Wolseley, in his "Pocketbook," cuts down the officer's kit to forty pounds, while "Nessmut," of the _Forest and Stream_, claims that for a hunting trip, all one wants does not weigh over twenty-six pounds. It is very largely a question of compromise. You cannot eat your cake and have it. You cannot, under a tropical sun, throw away your blanket and when the night dew falls wrap it around you. And if, after a day of hard climbing or riding, you want to drop into a folding chair, to make room for it in your carry-all you must give up many other lesser things. By travelling light I do not mean any lighter than the necessity demands. If there is transport at hand, a man is foolish not to avail himself of it. He is always foolish if he does not make things as easy for himself as possible. The tenderfoot will not agree with this. With him there is no idea so fixed, and no idea so absurd, as that to be comfortable is to be effeminate. He believes that "roughing it" is synonymous with hardship, and in season and out of season he plays the Spartan. Any man who suffers discomforts he can avoid because he fears his comrades will think he cannot suffer hardships is an idiot. You often hear it said of a man that "he can rough it with the best of them." Any one can do that. The man I want for a "bunkie" is the one who can be comfortable while the best of them are roughing it. The old soldier knows that it is his duty to keep himself fit, so that he can perform his work, whether his work is scouting for forage or scouting for men, but you will often hear the volunteer captain say: "Now, boys, don't forget we're roughing it; and don't expect to be comfortable." As a rule, the only reason his men are uncomfortable is because he does not know how to make them otherwise; or because he thinks, on a campaign, to endure unnecessary hardship is the mark of a soldier. In the Cuban campaign the day the American forces landed at Siboney a major-general of volunteers took up his head-quarters in the house from which the Spanish commandant had just fled, and on the veranda of which Caspar Whitney and myself had found two hammocks and made ourselves at home. The Spaniard who had been left to guard the house courteously offered the major-general his choice of three bed-rooms. They all were on the first floor and opened upon the veranda, and to the general's staff a tent could have been no easier of access. Obviously, it was the duty of the general to keep himself in good physical condition, to obtain as much sleep as possible, and to rest his great brain and his limbs cramped with ten days on shipboard. But in a tone of stern reproof he said, "No; I am campaigning now, and I have given up all luxuries." And with that he stretched a poncho on the hard boards of the veranda, where, while just a few feet from him the three beds and white mosquito nets gleamed invitingly, he tossed and turned. Besides being a silly spectacle, the sight of an old gentleman lying wide awake on his shoulder-blades was disturbing, and as the hours dragged on we repeatedly offered him our hammocks. But he fretfully persisted in his determination to be uncomfortable. And he was. The feelings of his unhappy staff, several of whom were officers of the regular army, who had to follow the example of their chief, were toward morning hardly loyal. Later, at the very moment the army moved up to the battle of San Juan this same major-general was relieved of his command on account of illness. Had he sensibly taken care of himself, when the moment came when he was needed, he would have been able to better serve his brigade and his country. In contrast to this pose is the conduct of the veteran hunter, or old soldier. When he gets into camp his first thought, after he has cared for his horse, is for his own comfort. He does not wolf down a cold supper and then spread his blanket wherever he happens to be standing. He knows that, especially at night, it is unfair to ask his stomach to digest cold rations. He knows that the warmth of his body is needed to help him to sleep soundly, not to fight chunks of canned meat. So, no matter how sleepy he may be, he takes the time to build a fire and boil a cup of tea or coffee. Its warmth aids digestion and saves his stomach from working overtime. Nor will he act on the theory that he is "so tired he can sleep anywhere." For a few hours the man who does that may sleep the sleep of exhaustion. But before day breaks he will feel under him the roots and stones, and when he awakes he is stiff, sore and unrefreshed. Ten minutes spent in digging holes for hips and shoulder-blades, in collecting grass and branches to spread beneath his blanket, and leaves to stuff in his boots for a pillow, will give him a whole night of comfort and start him well and fit on the next day's tramp. If you have watched an old sergeant, one of the Indian fighters, of which there are now too few left in the army, when he goes into camp, you will see him build a bunk and possibly a shelter of boughs just as though for the rest of his life he intended to dwell in that particular spot. Down in the Garcia campaign along the Rio Grande I said to one of them: "Why do you go to all that trouble? We break camp at daybreak." He said: "Do we? Well, maybe you know that, and maybe the captain knows that, but I don't know it. And so long as I don't know it, I am going to be just as snug as though I was halted here for a month." In camping, that was one of my first and best lessons--to make your surroundings healthy and comfortable. The temptation always is to say, "Oh, it is for only one night, and I am too tired." The next day you say the same thing, "We'll move to-morrow. What's the use?" But the fishing or shooting around the camp proves good, or it comes on to storm, and for maybe a week you do not move, and for a week you suffer discomforts. An hour of work put in at the beginning would have turned it into a week of ease. When there is transport of even one pack-horse, one of the best helps toward making camp quickly is a combination of panniers and bed used for many years by E. F. Knight, the _Times_ war correspondent, who lost an arm at Gras Pan. It consists of two leather trunks, which by day carry your belongings slung on either side of the pack-animal, and by night act as uprights for your bed. The bed is made of canvas stretched on two poles which rest on the two trunks. For travelling in upper India this arrangement is used almost universally. Mr. Knight obtained his during the Chitral campaign, and since then has used it in every war. He had it with Kuroki's army during this last campaign in Manchuria. {6} A more compact form of valise and bed combined is the "carry-all," or any of the many makes of sleeping-bags, which during the day carry the kit and at night when spread upon the ground serve for a bed. The one once most used by Englishmen was Lord Wolseley's "valise and sleeping-bag." It was complicated by a number of strings, and required as much lacing as a dozen pairs of boots. It has been greatly improved by a new sleeping-bag with straps, and flaps that tuck in at the ends. But the obvious disadvantage of all sleeping-bags is that in rain and mud you are virtually lying on the hard ground, at the mercy of tarantula and fever. The carry-all is, nevertheless, to my mind, the most nearly perfect way in which to pack a kit. I have tried the trunk, valise, and sleeping-bag, and vastly prefer it to them all. My carry-all differs only from the sleeping-bag in that, instead of lining it so that it may be used as a bed, I carry in its pocket a folding cot. By omitting the extra lining for the bed, I save almost the weight of the cot. The folding cot I pack is the Gold Medal Bed, made in this country, but which you can purchase almost anywhere. I once carried one from Chicago to Cape Town to find on arriving I could buy the bed there at exactly the same price I had paid for it in America. I also found them in Tokio, where imitations of them were being made by the ingenious and disingenuous Japanese. They are light in weight, strong, and comfortable, and are undoubtedly the best camp-bed made. When at your elevation of six inches above the ground you look down from one of them upon a comrade in a sleeping-bag with rivulets of rain and a tide of muddy water rising above him, your satisfaction, as you fall asleep, is worth the weight of the bed in gold. My carry-all is of canvas with a back of waterproof. It is made up of three strips six and a half feet long. The two outer strips are each two feet three inches wide, the middle strip four feet. At one end of the middle strip is a deep pocket of heavy canvas with a flap that can be fastened by two straps. When the kit has been packed in this pocket, the two side strips are folded over it and the middle strip and the whole is rolled up and buckled by two heavy straps on the waterproof side. It is impossible for any article to fall out or for the rain to soak in. I have a smaller carry-all made on the same plan, but on a tiny scale, in which to carry small articles and a change of clothing. It goes into the pocket after the bed, chair, and the heavier articles are packed away. When the bag is rolled up they are on the outside of and form a protection to the articles of lighter weight. The only objection to the carry-all is that it is an awkward bundle to pack. It is difficult to balance it on the back of an animal, but when you are taking a tent with you or carrying your provisions, it can be slung on one side of the pack saddle to offset their weight on the other. I use the carry-all when I am travelling "heavy." By that I mean when it is possible to obtain pack-animal or cart. When travelling light and bivouacking by night without a pack-horse, bed, or tent, I use the saddle-bags, already described. These can be slung over the back of the horse you ride, or if you walk, carried over your shoulder. I carried them in this latter way in Greece, in the Transvaal, and Cuba during the rebellion, and later with our own army. The list of articles I find most useful when travelling where it is possible to obtain transport, or, as we may call it, travelling heavy, are the following: A tent, seven by ten feet, with fly, jointed poles, tent-pins, a heavy mallet. I recommend a tent open at both ends with a window cut in one end. The window, when that end is laced and the other open, furnishes a draught of air. The window should be covered with a flap which, in case of rain, can be tied down over it with tapes. A great convenience in a tent is a pocket sewn inside of each wall, for boots, books, and such small articles. The pocket should not be filled with anything so heavy as to cause the walls to sag. Another convenience with a tent is a leather strap stretched from pole to pole, upon which to hang clothes, and another is a strap to be buckled around the front tent-pole, and which is studded with projecting hooks for your lantern, water-bottle, and field-glasses. This latter can be bough ready-made at any military outfitter's. Many men object to the wooden tent-pin on account of its tendency to split, and carry pins made of iron. With these, an inch below the head of the pin is a projecting barb which holds the tent rope. When the pin is being driven in, the barb is out of reach of the mallet. Any blacksmith can beat out such pins, and if you can afford the extra weight, they are better than those of ash. Also, if you can afford the weight, it is well to carry a strip of water-proof or oilcloth for the floor of the tent to keep out dampness. All these things appertaining to the tent should be tolled up in it, and the tent itself carried in a light-weight receptacle, with a running noose like a sailor's kit-bag. The carry-all has already been described. Of its contents, I consider first in importance the folding bed. And second in importance I would place a folding chair. Many men scoff at a chair as a cumbersome luxury. But after a hard day on foot or in the saddle, when you sit on the ground with your back to a rock and your hands locked across your knees to keep yourself from sliding, or on a box with no rest for your spinal column, you begin to think a chair is not a luxury, but a necessity. During the Cuban campaign, for a time I was a member of General Sumner's mess. The general owned a folding chair, and whenever his back was turned every one would make a rush to get into it. One time we were discussing what, in the light of our experience of that campaign, we would take with us on our next, and all agreed, Colonel Howze, Captain Andrews, and Major Harmon, that if one could only take one article it would be a chair. I carried one in Manchuria, but it was of no use to me, as the other correspondents occupied it, relieving each other like sentries on guard duty. I had to pin a sign on it, reading, "Don't sit on me," but no one ever saw the sign. Once, in order to rest in my own chair, I weakly established a precedent by giving George Lynch a cigar to allow me to sit down (on that march there was a mess contractor who supplied us even with cigars, and occasionally with food), and after that, whenever a man wanted to smoke, he would commandeer my chair, and unless bribed refuse to budge. This seems to argue the popularity of the contractor's cigars rather than that of the chair, but, nevertheless, I submit that on a campaign the article second in importance for rest, comfort, and content is a chair. The best I know is one invented by Major Elliott of the British army. I have an Elliott chair that I have used four years, not only when camping out, but in my writing-room at home. It is an arm-chair, and is as comfortable as any made. The objections to it are its weight, that it packs bulkily, and takes down into too many pieces. Even with these disadvantages it is the best chair. It can be purchased at the Army and Navy and Anglo-Indian stores in London. A chair of lighter weight and one-fourth the bulk is the Willisden chair, of green canvas and thin iron supports. It breaks in only two pieces, and is very comfortable. Sir Harry Johnson, in his advice to explorers, makes a great point of their packing a chair. But he recommends one known as the "Wellington," which is a cane-bottomed affair, heavy and cumbersome. Dr. Harford, the instructor in outfit for the Royal Geographical Society, recommends a steamer-chair, because it can be used on shipboard and "can be easily carried afterward." If there be anything less easy to carry than a deck-chair I have not met it. One might as soon think of packing a folding step-ladder. But if he has the transport, the man who packs any reasonably light folding chair will not regret it. As a rule, a cooking kit is built like every other cooking kit in that the utensils for cooking are carried in the same pot that is used for boiling the water, and the top of the pot turns itself into a frying-pan. For eight years I always have used the same kind of cooking kit, so I cannot speak of others with knowledge; but I have always looked with envious eyes at the Preston cooking kit and water-bottle. Why it has not already been adopted by every army I do not understand, for in no army have I seen a kit as compact or as light, or one that combines as many useful articles and takes up as little room. It is the invention of Captain Guy H. Preston, Thirteenth Cavalry, and can be purchased at any military outfitter's. The cooking kit I carry is, or was, in use in the German army. It is made of aluminum,--weighs about as much as a cigarette-case, and takes up as little room as would a high hat. It is a frying-pan and coffee-pot combined. From the Germans it has been borrowed by the Japanese, and one smaller than mine, but of the same pattern, is part of the equipment of each Japanese soldier. On a day's march there are three things a man must carry: his water-bottle, his food, which, with the soldier, is generally carried in a haversack, and his cooking kit. Preston has succeeded most ingeniously in combining the water-bottle and the cooking kit, and I believe by cutting his water-bottle in half, he can make room in his coffee-pot for the food. If he will do this, he will solve the problem of carrying water, food, and the utensils for cooking the food and for boiling the water in one receptacle, which can be carried from the shoulder by a single strap. The alteration I have made for my own use in Captain Preston's water-bottle enables me to carry in the coffee-pot one day's rations of bacon, coffee, and biscuit. [Picture: The component parts of the Preston cooking kit] [Picture: German Army cooking kit after use in five campaigns. All of these articles pack inside the kettle] In Tokio, before leaving for Manchuria, General Fukushima asked me to bring my entire outfit to the office of the General Staff. I spread it out on the floor, and with unerring accuracy he selected from it the three articles of greatest value. They were the Gold Medal cot, the Elliott chair, and Preston's water-bottle. He asked if he could borrow these, and, understanding that he wanted to copy them for his own use, and supposing that if he used them, he would, of course, make some restitution to the officers who had invented them, I foolishly loaned them to him. Later, he issued them in numbers to the General Staff. As I felt, in a manner, responsible, I wrote to the Secretary of War, saying I was sure the Japanese army did not wish to benefit by these inventions without making some acknowledgment or return to the inventors. But the Japanese War Office could not see the point I tried to make, and the General Staff wrote a letter in reply asking why I had not directed my communication to General Fukushima, as it was not the Secretary of War, but he, who had taken the articles. The fact that they were being issued without any return being made, did not interest them. They passed cheerfully over the fact that the articles had been stolen, and were indignant, not because I had accused a Japanese general of pilfering, but because I had accused the wrong general. The letter was so insolent that I went to the General Staff Office and explained that the officer who wrote it, must withdraw it, and apologize for it. Both of which things he did. In case the gentlemen whose inventions were "borrowed" might, if they wished, take further steps in the matter, I sent the documents in the case, with the exception of the letter which was withdrawn, to the chief of the General Staff in the United States and in England. In importance after the bed, cooking kit, and chair, I would place these articles: Two collapsible water-buckets of rubber or canvas. Two collapsible brass lanterns, with extra isinglass sides. Two boxes of sick-room candles. One dozen boxes of safety matches. One axe. The best I have seen is the Marble Safety Axe, made at Gladstone, Mich. You can carry it in your hip-pocket, and you can cut down a tree with it. One medicine case containing quinine, calomel, and Sun Cholera Mixture in tablets. Toilet-case for razors, tooth-powder, brushes, and paper. Folding bath-tub of rubber in rubber case. These are manufactured to fold into a space little larger than a cigar-box. Two towels old, and soft. Three cakes of soap. One Jaeger blanket. One mosquito head-bag. One extra pair of shoes, old and comfortable. One extra pair of riding-breeches. One extra pair of gaiters. The former regulation army gaiter of canvas, laced, rolls up in a small compass and weighs but little. One flannel shirt. Gray least shows the dust. Two pairs of drawers. For riding, the best are those of silk. Two undershirts, balbriggan or woollen. Three pairs of woollen socks. Two linen handkerchiefs, large enough, if needed, to tie around the throat and protect the back of the neck. One pair of pajamas, woollen, not linen. One housewife. Two briarwood pipes. Six bags of smoking tobacco; Durham or Seal of North Carolina pack easily. One pad of writing paper. One fountain pen, _self-filling_. One bottle of ink, with screw top, held tight by a spring. One dozen linen envelopes. Stamps, wrapped in oil-silk with mucilage side next to the silk. One stick sealing-wax. In tropical countries mucilage on the flap of envelopes sticks to everything except the envelope. One dozen elastic bands of the largest size. In packing they help to compress articles like clothing into the smallest possible compass and in many other ways will be found very useful. One pack of playing-cards. Books. One revolver and six cartridges. The reason for most of these articles is obvious. Some of them may need a word of recommendation. I place the water-buckets first in the list for the reason that I have found them one of my most valuable assets. With one, as soon as you halt, instead of waiting for your turn at the well or water-hole, you can carry water to your horse, and one of them once filled and set in the shelter of the tent, later saves you many steps. It also can be used as a nose-bag, and to carry fodder. I recommend the brass folding lantern, because those I have tried of tin or aluminum have invariably broken. A lantern is an absolute necessity. When before daylight you break camp, or hurry out in a wind storm to struggle with flying tent-pegs, or when at night you wish to read or play cards, a lantern with a stout frame and steady light is indispensable. The original cost of the sick-room candles is more than that of ordinary candles, but they burn longer, are brighter, and take up much less room. To protect them and the matches from dampness, or the sun, it is well to carry them in a rubber sponge-bag. Any one who has forgotten to pack a towel will not need to be advised to take two. An old sergeant of Troop G, Third Cavalry, once told me that if he had to throw away everything he carried in his roll but one article, he would save his towel. And he was not a particularly fastidious sergeant either, but he preferred a damp towel in his roll to damp clothes on his back. Every man knows the dreary halts in camp when the rain pours outside, or the regiment is held in reserve. For times like these a pack of cards or a book is worth carrying, even if it weighs as much as the plates from which it was printed. At present it is easy to obtain all of the modern classics in volumes small enough to go into the coat-pocket. In Japan, before starting for China, we divided up among the correspondents Thomas Nelson & Sons' and Doubleday, Page & Co.'s pocket editions of Dickens, Thackeray, and Lever, and as most of our time in Manchuria was spent locked up in compounds, they proved a great blessing. In the list I have included a revolver, following out the old saying that "You may not need it for a long time, but when you do need it, you want it damned quick." Except to impress guides and mule-drivers, it is not an essential article. In six campaigns I have carried one, and never used it, nor needed it but once, and then while I was dodging behind the foremast it lay under tons of luggage in the hold. The number of cartridges I have limited to six, on the theory that if in six shots you haven't hit the other fellow, he will have hit you, and you will not require another six. This, I think, completes the list of articles that on different expeditions I either have found of use, or have seen render good service to some one else. But the really wise man will pack none of the things enumerated in this article. For the larger his kit, the less benefit he will have of it. It will all be taken from him. And accordingly my final advice is to go forth empty-handed, naked and unashamed, and borrow from your friends. I have never tried that method of collecting an outfit, but I have seen never it fail, and of all travellers the man who borrows is the wisest. Footnotes: {1} From "A Year from a Reporter's Note Book," copyright, 1897, by Harper & Brothers. {2} From "A Year from a Reporter's Note Book, copyright, 1897, Harper & Brothers." {3} For this "distinguished gallantry in action," James R. Church later received the medal of honor. {4} Some of the names and initials on the trees are as follows: J. P. Allen; Lynch; Luke Steed; Happy Mack, Rough Riders; Russell; Ward; E. M. Lewis, C, 9th Cav.; Alex; E. K. T.; J. P. E.; W. N. D.; R. D. R.; I. W. S., 5th U. S.; J. M. B.; J. M. T., C, 9th. {5} A price list during the siege: SIEGE OF LADYSMITH, 1899-1900. _I certify that the following are the correct and highest prices realised at my sales by Public Auction during the above Siege_, JOE DYSON, _Auctioneer_. LADYSMITH, FEBRUARY 21_st_, 1900. Pounds s. d. 14 lbs. Oatmeal 2 19 6 Condensed Milk, 0 10 0 per tin 1 lb. Beef Fat 0 11 0 1 lb. Tin 0 17 0 Coffee 2 lb. Tin 1 6 0 Tongue 1 Sucking Pig 1 17 0 Eggs, per dozen 2 8 0 Fowls, each 0 18 6 4 Small 0 15 6 Cucumbers Green Mealies, 0 3 8 each Small plate 1 5 0 Grapes 1 Small plate 0 12 6 Apples 1 Plate 0 18 0 Tomatoes 1 Vegetable 1 8 0 Marrow 1 Plate 0 11 0 Eschalots 1 Plate 0 19 0 Potatoes 3 Small bunches 0 9 0 Carrots 1 Glass Jelly 0 18 0 1 lb. Bottle 1 11 0 Jam 1 lb. Tin 1 1 0 Marmalade 1 dozen Matches 0 13 6 1 pkt. 1 5 0 Cigarettes 50 Cigars 9 5 0 0.25 lb. Cake 2 5 0 "Fair Maid" Tobacco 0.5 lb. Cake 3 5 0 "Fair Maid" 1 lb. Sailors 2 3 0 Tobacco 0.25 lb. tin 3 0 0 "Capstan" Navy Cut Tobacco {6} The top of the trunk is made of a single piece of leather with a rim that falls over the mouth of the trunk and protects the contents from rain. The two iron rings by which each box is slung across the padded back of the pack-horse are fastened by rivetted straps to the rear top line of each trunk. On both _ends_ of each trunk near the top and back are two iron sockets. In these fit the staples that hold the poles for the bed. The staples are made of iron in the shape of the numeral 9, the poles passing through the circle of the 9. The bed should be four feet long three feet wide, of heavy canvas, strengthened by leather straps. At both ends are two buckles which connect with straps on the top of each trunk. Along one side of the canvas is a pocket running its length and open at both ends. Through this one of the poles passes and the other through a series of straps that extend on the opposite side. These straps can be shortened or tightened to allow a certain "give" to the canvas, which the ordinary stretcher-bed does not permit. The advantage of this arrangement is in the fact that it can be quickly put together and that it keeps the sleeper clear of the ground and safeguards him from colds and malaria. 
27910	----	Under the Ensign of the Rising Sun, by Harry Collingwood. CHAPTER ONE. DISMISSED THE SERVICE. "Well, good-bye, old chap; keep a stiff upper lip, and hope for the best; the truth is pretty sure to come out some day, somehow, and then they will be bound to reinstate you. And be sure you call on the Pater, and tell him the whole yarn. I'll bet he will be able to give you some advice worth having. Also give my love to the Mater, and tell her that I'm looking forward to Christmas. Perhaps I may see you then. Good-bye again, and good luck to you." The speaker was young Ronald Gordon, one of the midshipmen belonging to H.M.S. _Terrible_, and my particular chum; and the words were spoken as we parted company on the platform of Portland railway station, Gordon to return to his ship, while I, an outcast, was bound for London to seek my fortune. Yes; after doing splendidly at Dartmouth, heading the list at the passing-out exam, and so at once gaining the rating of midshipman; doing equally well afloat during the subsequent three years and a half, qualifying for Gunnery, Torpedo, and Navigating duties, serving for six months aboard a destroyer, and everywhere gaining the esteem and goodwill of my superiors, here was I, Paul Swinburne, at the age of seventeen and a half, an outcast kicked out of the Navy with ignominy and my career ruined, through the machinations of another, and he my cousin! He, Bob Carr,--like myself, a midshipman aboard the _Terrible_,--had committed a crime of a particularly mean and disgraceful character-- there is no need for me to specify its precise nature--and with diabolical ingenuity, knowing that discovery was inevitable, had succeeded in diverting suspicion so strongly toward me that I had been accused, court martialled, and--although I had pleaded not guilty--found guilty and dismissed the Service. Now, it is necessary for me to say here just a word or two in self-defence; for there is no reason whatever why the reader should be allowed to believe me guilty, although, for certain reasons of my own, I permitted the officers who tried me to think so. I am an orphan, both my parents having died within a few months of each other when I was less than three years old, leaving me to the mercy of the world. My nearest relation was Aunt Betsy Carr, my father's only sister, and at my mother's death she and Uncle Bob adopted me as their own, although they had a baby boy of their own, at that time nearly two years old--the Cousin Bob who was responsible for my present trouble. They took me not only into their home but also into their hearts; they made not the slightest difference in their treatment of Bob and me; I was as much a son to them as he was; and the result was that I soon grew to love them both as much as though they had been my own parents. At first, as children, Bob and I got on splendidly together; but later on, when we were respectively about seven and eight years of age, my cousin gradually developed a feeling of jealousy that at length became inordinate--although he was very careful to conceal the fact from his parents; so that when, in my second year at Dartmouth, the matter of sending him there also was mooted, I was exceedingly sorry, although I of course gladly promised to help him to the utmost, in the event of his being entered. And when in due time he turned up there, I redeemed my promise, so far as Bob would let me; and it cost me a good deal to do so, for he soon became exceedingly unpopular. But he managed to scrape through his final, and, some six months before the opening of this story, was appointed to the _Terrible_--to my great chagrin, for I had a presentiment that his coming meant trouble for me. And now the trouble had come, with a vengeance. It was really Bob, and not I, who had committed the crime of which I was accused; and clever as the young rascal had been in diverting suspicion from himself to me, I could have cleared myself, had I so chosen, but only by fixing the guilt upon him. And that I could not bring myself to do, after all the kindness which I--had received at the hands of my aunt and uncle; for they not only idolised the lad but believed in him implicitly, and I knew that disillusion would simply break their hearts--they would never again be able to hold up their heads and look others in the face. Therefore when I was summoned to be tried by court martial, I simply pleaded Not Guilty--which was regarded as an aggravation of my offence-- and did not attempt to defend myself, with the result that I was found guilty, and expelled. Of course I knew that this would be a bitter blow to my uncle and aunt; but it would not be nearly so bitter as it would have been had the guilt been fixed upon Bob, therefore of the two evils I chose what I considered the least, although it involved the ruin of my career--a career which I loved and of which I was intensely proud. And now I was not only without a career, but also without a home; for I simply could not endure the idea of going back to my aunt and uncle, and witnessing their grief as well as enduring their reproaches. I therefore wrote them a brief letter informing them of the misfortune which had befallen me, assuring them of my innocence, and announcing my determination to start afresh, fight my own battle, and rehabilitate myself as best I could. In making my plans I was greatly helped by my chum, Gordon. He had been with me at Dartmouth, after that in the _Vengeance_, and now again in the _Terrible_; he therefore knew me well enough to implicitly believe me when I assured him upon my word of honour that I was innocent. He was a good chum; not only did he believe in my innocence but he also stoutly maintained it to others, whenever the matter was referred to, although the evidence so cunningly woven was strong enough to secure my conviction. And when the result of the court martial was known, he not only sat down and wrote a long account of the affair to his parents, but insisted--taking no denial--that, before doing anything else, I should call upon his parents and consult with his father, Sir Robert. And this I at length, somewhat reluctantly, agreed to do, although I was by no means sure that his people would be so ready as he was to take me upon trust. Yet, apart from my uncle and aunt, Sir Robert and Lady Gordon were the only friends I had; and now was the time when of all others I most urgently needed the help of friends. At first I permitted myself to entertain certain high-flown ideas of going out into the world and fighting my battle alone and unaided; but Gordon was a level-headed youngster, and although he was a year younger than myself I was fain to admit the wisdom of his assertion that no fellow is sufficiently independent to ignore the advice and help of friends. Besides, I had already met Sir Robert and his wife--had indeed on one occasion spent ten days' leave with Ronald under their roof; and more genial, kindly, warmer-hearted people it would be impossible to imagine; so I felt hopeful that, with Ronald for my sponsor and advocate, Sir Robert would not refuse to give me his best advice and assistance. It was late in the afternoon when I arrived at Waterloo--too late, I knew, to catch Sir Robert Gordon at his office; I therefore slung my chest on top of a cab, and ordered the driver to take me to a certain quiet and unassuming but comfortable hotel near the Embankment, where I proposed to take up my quarters until I could see my way a little more clearly. Here I dined, took a walk along the Embankment afterwards, and turned in early, not feeling in cue for amusement of any kind. On the following morning I rose late, of deliberate purpose, had my breakfast, and then sauntered along the Embankment toward Sir Robert's office, timing myself to arrive there about eleven o'clock, by which time I calculated that Ronald's father would about have gone through his morning's correspondence, and would be able to spare me a few minutes of his time. As it chanced, I could not have timed my movements better, for as I was shown up to Sir Robert's private room I encountered his secretary just coming out, with a notebook in one hand and a goodly batch of letters in the other. I may here explain that Sir Robert Gordon was an official of high position and very considerable importance in the Foreign Office. He received me very kindly, bade me be seated, and then said: "Well, Swinburne, here you are at last. From Ronald's letter I rather gathered that I might see you some time yesterday. And now, before we go any farther, let me say how exceedingly sorry Lady Gordon and I are to hear of your misfortune--for a misfortune it is, and not a fault, Ronald assures me. Now,"--looking at his watch--"I can spare you just a quarter of an hour; so go ahead and tell me as much of the matter as you can in that time." Thereupon I proceeded to relate, in as few words as possible, the particulars of the whole affair, not concealing the fact that my cousin was the actual culprit--for I knew that my confidence would be respected, and explaining my reasons for taking the onus upon myself instead of allowing the real culprit to suffer. But a quarter of an hour soon passes, when one is talking of oneself and one's own misfortunes; and the announcement that a certain important personage had called by appointment gave me the signal that it was time for me to go, though as I rose to take my leave I had the satisfaction of knowing that I had succeeded in convincing my friend of my innocence, for as we shook hands, Sir Robert said: "We must talk this matter over again at our leisure, Swinburne, possibly this evening. Now, before you go, let me say that my wife and I expect you to take up your quarters with us until your future is definitely arranged. No, we will take no refusal; you are Ronald's chum, and we should not think of allowing you to stay at an hotel while there is a spare room for you at Maycroft. So off you go; get your luggage at once and make the best of your way to Norwood, where Lady Gordon will expect you to arrive in time for luncheon at one o'clock. I shall 'phone to her that you are coming." What could one do but gratefully accept an invitation proffered in such friendly terms? It would have been boorish to refuse. I therefore returned to my modest hotel, paid my bill, and made the best of my way to Maycroft, where I was received with such kindness and cordiality as I have no words to describe. Lady Gordon was a fit mate for her distinguished husband; smart, clever, accomplished, of attractive appearance, and so irresistibly fascinating a manner that within two minutes she succeeded in not only making me feel absolutely welcome and at home in her house, but also in some subtle fashion imbued me with the conviction that, serious as my misfortune undoubtedly was, it was by no means irretrievable. We could not talk confidentially at luncheon, the servants being present, but afterward, the weather being fine and the air warm for the time of year--it was the first day of December 1903--we adjourned to the garden, and there I told my tale all over again, this time in full detail, and received all the sympathy that my aching heart craved for. Sir Robert reached home that night only just in time to dress for dinner, so there was therefore neither time nor opportunity for the discussion of my affairs until the meal was over and we had adjourned to the drawing-room. Then, while we were sipping our coffee, my host turned to me and said: "I have been thinking a good deal about you, to-day, between whiles, Swinburne; and at last I think I have discovered a way to help you. By a lucky chance it happens that Viscount Hayashi--the Japanese Minister to Great Britain, you know--with whom I have been brought into very close touch of late, is dining here, _en famille_, to-morrow night, in order to have the opportunity to discuss certain rather delicate matters in private with me; and when we have finished talking business together--which will probably not occupy us more than an hour--I will put your case to him, giving him all the details of it--for we must be perfectly honest with him, you know--and ask him whether, under the circumstances, there is any likelihood of your being able to obtain employment in the Japanese Navy. Things are looking very black in the Far East just now; war between Russia and Japan is practically inevitable; and although the Japanese have long been preparing for it, and seem confident of success, I should imagine that they would be only too glad of the opportunity to secure the services of a smart and specially qualified young officer like yourself." Much more was said upon the same subject which it is unnecessary to repeat here, and I also completed the story which I had begun in Sir Robert's office that morning, with the result that I was able to make my innocence as clear to him as I had already done to his wife. Sir Robert expressed the opinion that my action in taking the blame upon myself had been somewhat quixotic; but when I explained my reasons in full for doing so, he admitted that it seemed to be the only thing possible, and was good enough to say that it reflected the greatest credit upon me. On the following night the Viscount and Sir Robert arrived at Maycroft together in the latter's limousine; and after introducing his wife and myself our host excused himself and hurried away to dress, leaving Lady Gordon and me to entertain our distinguished guest. The conversation before and during dinner was exceedingly lively and interesting, the Ambassador telling us many remarkable things about Japan. Then the talk veered round toward naval matters, and my kind hostess afforded me the opportunity to parade my special knowledge by asking me to explain the difference between armoured and protected cruisers, one question leading to another, until at length His Excellency, who had been listening most courteously and attentively, said: "Am I mistaken, sir, in supposing that you are an officer in the honourable Navy of Great Britain?" That was the opportunity for which Lady Gordon had been waiting, and she at once replied: "Mr Swinburne was, until a few days ago, senior midshipman on the same ship as my son--the battleship _Terrible_. But a very exalted sense of gratitude on his part has resulted in a grave miscarriage of justice whereby, through accepting the blame for another's fault, he has been dismissed from the Service, to his great grief, for he was passionately devoted to his profession." The Viscount rather raised his eyebrows at this, and regarded me keenly, as though seeking to read my character from my face. "Really?" he said. "That is indeed a terrible misfortune, which I should scarcely have thought could possibly happen in such a Service as yours, where, I have always understood, such matters are inquired into with the most scrupulous fairness." "So they are, Your Excellency," I replied. "But my expulsion was not in any sense due to remissness on the part of the officers who tried me. It was due to the fact that, for the reason named by Lady Gordon, I deliberately refrained from producing evidence which would have resulted in my own acquittal and the conviction of the actual culprit; and thus the members of the court martial were, in the course of their duty, compelled to find me guilty and to pass upon me sentence of dismissal." "I see. Yes, I think I understand," observed the Viscount. "The feeling of gratitude which could induce you to take the extreme step of ruining your entire career must have been wonderfully strong. I find the incident remarkably interesting, Mr--er--Swinburne, so much so, indeed, that when my friend Gordon and I have concluded the business talk which has brought me down here to-night I should very much like to hear all the particulars of your story, if you will do me the favour to confide them to me." I replied that I would do so with great pleasure; and then, the meal being at an end, our hostess rose from the table and retired to the drawing-room, while Sir Robert, apologising for leaving me alone, carried off the Ambassador to the study, where he had ordered coffee to be served. Naturally, I did not linger at the table after the others had gone, but followed my hostess to the drawing-room, where I at once proceeded to thank her for the kindly tact with which she had made my case known to so influential a personage as Viscount Hayashi. On her part, she was just as pleased as I was that so exceptionally favourable an opportunity to restore my wrecked fortunes had presented itself, and for some time we sat talking the matter over. Then Lady Gordon insisted upon my singing to her while she played my accompaniments; and in this manner the time passed rapidly, and before we dared expect them her husband and the Viscount reappeared. But even then we did not stop at once, His Excellency being polite enough to beg us to continue. At length, however, our guest rose and, beckoning me to his side, said: "Before I go, Mr Swinburne, let me say that Sir Robert Gordon has confided to me the full particulars of your remarkable story. And, having heard it, I should like you to know that, not only am I fully convinced of your entire innocence of the foul charge preferred against you, but also that I, as a native of a country in which filial affection is held in the highest honour and esteem, am full of admiration for your conduct. I am proud to have the honour of knowing a young man possessing the courage to act as you have done; and I have no hesitation in expressing the opinion that, in dispensing with your services, your country has lost a most promising and valuable servant. But if Great Britain is unable to appreciate your value, there are other countries which can, and Japan is one of them. You are doubtless aware that war between Russia and Japan is inevitable; it is merely a question of weeks, perhaps only of days; the Japanese naval service will afford many opportunities for an officer, qualified as I understand you are, to distinguish himself, and rapidly advance his fortunes. If you would care to enter that service I believe the affair might be easily managed, backed up as you are by the recommendation of a gentleman of Sir Robert Gordon's position. Think the matter over, will you? And when you have decided, call upon me at this address, and let me know." And he handed me his card. On the spur of the moment I was very much inclined to close with His Excellency's offer there and then; but even as the words of acceptance leapt to my lips I bethought myself that it would only be courteous to wait and hear what my kind host and hostess had to say upon the matter before taking the irrevocable step. I therefore expressed my hearty thanks for the offer, and promised to give it my best and most careful consideration. When the Viscount had gone, Sir Robert, his wife, and I formed ourselves into a little committee to discuss His Excellency's proposal. Of course there was never a moment's doubt as to the wisdom of accepting the offer, but Sir Robert expressed his satisfaction at my self-control. He and his wife were quite of one mind that there was nothing to be gained by my appearing to be too eager, and they strongly advised me to allow at least one whole day to pass before presenting myself at the Ambassador's residence; they also advised me not to accept any rank below that of a full lieutenant, which was quite in accordance with my own views. Accordingly, on the day but one following that of His Excellency's visit to Maycroft, I journeyed up to town with Sir Robert and, upon parting from him at the Foreign Office, made the best of my way to Viscount Hayashi's residence. His Excellency was at home, and I was at once received. He was polite enough to express extreme satisfaction when I informed him that I had definitely decided to accept his offer, provided that the conditions could be satisfactorily arranged; and within half an hour we had come to terms, the arrangement being that I was to enter the Japanese naval service with the rank of a full lieutenant, my commission to bear date of my landing in Japan; that a passage was to be provided for me; and that I was to hold myself in readiness to depart at twenty-four hours' notice. A letter to this effect was given me to hand to a certain subordinate official whose business it was to arrange all such details; and I then made my exit, the recipient of many good wishes on His Excellency's part for my success. My next visit was to a Mr Yuri Kuroda, the subordinate official above mentioned, who, having read the letter of which I was the bearer, immediately became very polite, requested to be favoured with my honourable name and address, which he at once entered in a big book, and then proceeded to discuss the question of my passage out to Japan. It transpired that his Government was negotiating with the Argentine Republic for the purchase of two powerful armoured cruisers, built for the Government of the latter country at Genoa; and Mr Kuroda suggested that if the negotiations resulted successfully, it might suit me to go out in one of them as an officer, the date of my commission to be advanced accordingly. I asked for some particulars of the ships; and upon learning that they measured 7700 tons, that they were entirely sheathed amidships in 6 inches of Krupp steel, and that they were armed with four 8-inch guns in their turrets, with a central battery consisting of fourteen 6-inch guns, I quickly replied that there was nothing I should like better. And so it was arranged, Kuroda undertaking to inform me in good time when my services would be likely to be required. Two days later, however, I received a telegram from Kuroda, requesting me to call upon him at the earliest possible moment. It came while we were sitting down to dinner, and Lady Gordon expressed the opinion that if I made my call on the following morning it would be early enough, and Sir Robert was rather inclined to agree with her. But the receipt of the telegram seemed to suggest that something unexpected had happened, and I therefore determined to obey the summons that night. I accordingly scribbled a reply saying that I would present myself at nine o'clock; and within ten minutes of that hour I was once more in the Ambassador's house. His Excellency was out; but Mr Kuroda was in and waiting for me; and he expressed his gratification at my prompt response to his summons. He then proceeded to inform me that certain news had arrived--he did not state the nature of it--which rendered it highly desirable that I should expedite my departure for Japan, instead of awaiting the issue of the negotiations for the purchase of the Argentine cruisers, and inquired when I could be ready to start. My reply that I could start on the morrow, if necessary, pleased him greatly, but he intimated that the earliest date upon which it would be possible to dispatch me would be the 8th of the month--it was then the 5th--and requested me to make my arrangements accordingly, and to call upon him again on the morning of the 7th, when he would give me my final instructions and hand me my credentials, with railway and steamer tickets, etcetera. The Gordons received the news of my impending departure with mixed feelings. They were delighted that, through their help and influence, I had been able to so quickly find another opening for my energies, but were exceedingly sorry that I was to leave them so soon, as they had confidently reckoned upon my spending the Christmas holidays with them and Ronald. However, Sir Robert took me up to town with him, in his car, on the morning of the 7th, and Lady Gordon accompanied us, saying that she had some shopping to do. I left them at the entrance to Sir Robert's office, and in due time found myself once more in Mr Kuroda's presence. It was easy to see that the little man was so busy that he scarcely knew which way to turn, but he was as smiling and polite as ever, and had everything ready for me, neatly enclosed in a stout official envelope, the contents of which he turned out for my inspection. There was my railway ticket from London to Dover, my steamer ticket from Dover to Calais, my railway ticket from Calais to Marseilles, _via_ Paris, my steamer ticket from Marseilles to Yokohama, and my credentials, which were to be presented to a certain official in Tokio, who would hand me my commission and give me my final instructions. Everything was cut and dried, even to a travelling schedule giving me the train and steamer times of departure and arrival; therefore, having looked them through and satisfied myself that nothing had been omitted, I returned the several documents to the envelope, thrust the latter into my pocket, and bade Mr Kuroda farewell. He replied with hearty good wishes for my welfare and success, expressed his deep regret that he was not going with me instead of remaining in London, shook my hand with great fervour and friendliness, and, as he bowed me out, touched the bell which was the signal for another visitor to be ushered in. When Sir Robert came home that night, he brought with him two parcels wrapped in stout brown paper, one of them being rather long and slim; but I thought nothing of it, as I knew that it was a custom, when things were urgently needed, to have them sent to his office, so that they might be brought home at night in his car. After dinner, however, the two parcels were produced, opened, and found to contain, the one a handsome oak case containing a pair of heavy and very business-like Colt automatic pistols, with all necessary tools, bottle of oil, and one hundred cartridges; while the other was a beautiful naval sword and sheath, the blade perfectly plain but of such exquisite temper that, by exerting my full strength, I was able to bend it until the point met the hilt. The pistols were a farewell gift to me from dear Lady Gordon, while the sword was from Sir Robert. The gifts were accompanied by the heartfelt good wishes of the donors for my welfare, happiness, and safety in the strenuous times that seemed to be looming ahead, and the hope that the weapons would prove useful to me in my new service. They were, as will be seen from the account of my adventures, set forth in the following pages. CHAPTER TWO. THE RUSSIAN DESTROYER. At a quarter to eleven o'clock on the morning of December 8, 1903, I stepped out of a cab at Charing Cross railway station, and forthwith proceeded to get my luggage properly labelled and checked through to Marseilles. While I was doing this, I became aware of some one by my side, and, looking up, saw a little man, the formation of whose features and the colour of whose skin at once apprised me that he was a Japanese. He was dressed in a neat travelling suit of tweed, and wore a bowler hat and brown boots. He was reading my name, legibly painted on my sea chest, and as I looked at him he turned to me and bowed. "You are Mr Paul Swinburne, bound for Japan?" he said, putting the statement in the form of a question, and speaking in perfect English. "I am," I replied. "And you?" "I am Captain Murata Nakamura, of the Japanese army, in England on Government business, and now returning to Japan in the _Matsuma Maru_, the steamer in which I understand you are going out. Half an hour ago I was with Mr Kuroda, whom you know, and he told me about you, and bade me look out for you. I am pleased to make your honourable acquaintance, Mr Swinburne, and shall be happy to place my humble services at your honourable disposal." "Gad! that's very good of you," I said. "Very glad to know you, Captain. Is your baggage ready? Then, let us try to secure a compartment to ourselves and travel through together." "It will give me great pleasure to travel in your honourable company," replied my new acquaintance. "And I have already secured a compartment by, as you say, `squaring' the guard. There he is now. Let us go and-- how do you say? Oh yes, I remember--`interview' him." We obtained a compartment to ourselves, and my new friend at once started smoking cigarettes and chatting in the most animated manner upon the prospects of war. He was in high spirits, and apparently had no doubts at all as to the outcome of the fighting--if fighting there was to be. And of this also he appeared to entertain no doubt, although there were people who still believed that either Russia or Japan would climb down and so avoid a fight. By the time that the train reached Dover we were "as thick as thieves," for Nakamura's perfect frankness and his geniality of manner quickly conquered my insular aloofness toward the foreigner; and upon boarding the Channel steamer we at once went below and were busy with our luncheon almost before the boat had cast off from the pier. At Calais, Nakamura, who seemed to speak every language under the sun, took charge of my baggage as well as his own, and by some mysterious process, probably not altogether unconnected with "backsheesh," managed to clear the whole through the Customs in about five minutes. Then he again "squared" the guard and secured our privacy as far as Paris, where we arrived about five o'clock in the evening. There was a train leaving for Marseilles at half-past seven, so we took a cab, drove across the city, and dined at the railway station in comfort before beginning the long night journey. Then, once more securing a compartment to ourselves, we settled down for our twelve hours' run to the shore of the Mediterranean. I was very much amused at the naivete of some of my companion's remarks. He asked the most intimate questions in the coolest possible manner, and if I had not already resolved to be absolutely frank with my new comrades in arms I should have been somewhat embarrassed to find replies for some of them. He was greatly surprised to learn that I was not yet eighteen years of age, and was still growing, for although he appeared to be not more than twenty-five, he informed me that he was actually thirty-three, and I was a head taller than he, the fact being that I had a natural tendency toward bulkiness which my passion for athletics had further encouraged. He jocularly remarked that he hoped the authorities would have sense enough to appoint me to a battleship, for he was sure that in no other quarters would I find room to stand upright. We reached Marseilles without adventure at eight o'clock on the following morning, and, after breakfasting at the railway station, chartered a cab and drove down to the Joliet, where we found our ship, the _Matsuma Maru_, lying alongside a wharf piled yards high with crates, bales, and cases of all sorts and sizes waiting to be stowed in the ship's holds. The skipper was somewhere ashore, it appeared, but we hunted up the chief officer and introduced ourselves, upon which we learned that every effort was being made to have the ship ready for sea by three o'clock that afternoon, but that it would be impossible for her to get away a minute earlier than that; we therefore found the chief steward, got him to show us our cabins, and had our baggage carried aboard. Then we went ashore again and, Nakamura happening to learn that the place boasted a zoological garden, nothing would satisfy him but we must needs go there, which we did, afterwards finding our way to the handsome Museum. Then down into the town again to lunch, finally returning to the ship at a quarter to three. I had been accustomed to seeing work smartly done in our own navy, but I was amazed to see what a few hours of strenuous labour had effected upon that wharf. It was practically cleared, and even as we stood and watched, the last cases were slung aboard, and the first bell, warning visitors that the ship was about to start, was rung, whereupon we trotted aboard and took up a position on the poop, where some fifty or sixty other passengers, all men, with about half a dozen exceptions, were already congregated. Nakamura looked eagerly about him and quickly spotted at least a dozen acquaintances and fellow-countrymen, to all of whom he insisted upon introducing me; and his mention of the fact that I was _going_ out for the express purpose of fighting for Japan at once ensured me a most friendly welcome among them. While this was going on, the ship was unmoored, and a few minutes later we were outside the harbour and shaping a course that took us at no great distance past the islet which Hugo has immortalised in his _Count of Monte Christo_. Once clear of the harbour, the skipper rang for full speed; and the _Matsuma Maru_, a white-hulled, steel-built ship of some four thousand tons, rigged as a topsail schooner, soon showed that she was the possessor of a nimble pair of heels. She was loaded well down, yet an hour after the patent log had been put overboard it recorded a run of seventeen knots. The weather was gloriously fine and the sea glass-smooth, so that one had not much opportunity of judging her quality as a sea boat, but when I went forward and, duly paying my footing, looked over the bows and noted their outward flare as the sides rose from the water, I had not much difficulty in deciding that she would prove very comfortable and easy in a seaway. Upon going below to dinner that night, a glance round the saloon tables showed that at least seventy-five per cent, of the passengers were Japanese, while, of the remainder, half, perhaps, were English, the rest being composed, in pretty nearly equal proportions, of French, Germans, and, somewhat to my surprise, Russians. These last, however, it eventually transpired, had booked only as far as Hong Kong, from whence it was probable that they intended to proceed to Port Arthur, although they said nothing to that effect. We passed through the Straits of Bonifacio and Messina, and in due course arrived at Port Said without incident, except that, thanks to Nakamura, I soon became upon friendly and even intimate terms with all the Japanese passengers in the saloon, as well as the ship's officers. There was one old gentleman in particular, rejoicing in the name of Matsudaira Hashimoto, an ex-professor of languages at the Imperial College of Tokio, who, happening to hear that I was anxious to utilise the large amount of time occupied by the voyage in acquiring as much knowledge as possible of the Japanese language, at once came forward with an offer to gratuitously teach me, in order that, as he remarked, I might be equipped with a working knowledge of the language upon my arrival, and so be in a position to immediately render my services valuable. The old gentleman, it appeared, had been remarkably successful in his day as a teacher of languages, working upon a system which he had himself invented; and, luckily for me, his system was so excellent that, working with me for five hours daily, he actually succeeded in redeeming his promise so thoroughly that when we at length reached Yokohama I was able to manage quite fairly well without the services of an interpreter. This by the way. It was a part of the skipper's plan to replenish his bunkers at Port Said, an operation involving a detention of three hours. We therefore all went ashore, and I posted a letter to my friends, the Gordons, attaching to it a number of stamps of different denominations, for the benefit of Ronald, who was an enthusiastic collector. We then roved about the town, but, finding nothing to interest us, soon returned to the ship, which we found enveloped in a cloud of coal dust which was playing havoc with her fresh white paint, despite the canvas screens spread to protect it. We got under way again shortly after three o'clock that afternoon, two of our passengers--Russians who looked very much like military men in mufti--cutting things so fine that they were actually compelled to follow after us in a steam launch; and when at length they overtook us, scrambled aboard, and went at once to the cabin which they shared, the skipper, with whom Nakamura and I had become very chummy, caught our eyes and signed to us both to come up to his cabin on the bridge, the ship then being in charge of a canal pilot, with Sadakiyo, the chief officer, standing beside him on the navigating bridge. Accordingly, we sauntered up in a nonchalant sort of way, as though intent upon watching the progress of the ship through the canal, for there had been something of furtiveness in the skipper's action which seemed to hint that he did not wish his sign to be observed by others, which led me at least to imagine that there might be something in the wind. And so, apparently there was, for when we had entered the cabin, the skipper softly closed the door and drew the curtains across the two after ports, as though desirous of concealing the fact of our presence in his cabin. Then, having produced whisky and soda and a box of cigars, he seated himself on the sofa, facing us, and said in English: "You saw those two Russians come aboard, just now, after nearly losing their passage?" And when we nodded affirmation he continued: "I am wondering whether the circumstance means trouble for us. And for this reason. When I was ashore, about an hour ago, I had business that took me into McIntosh's store. Now, McIntosh is a very good fellow, whom I have known for some time. He is very friendly to us Japanese, and `has his knife'--as you English term it--into the Russians. Well, after chatting together for a little while, he took me into his inner room and informed me that there is a steamer, flying the Russian naval ensign, and a Russian destroyer lurking near the southern extremity of the Red Sea, which seem disposed to give trouble to Japanese merchant craft. It appears that only last week, one or the other of these-- McIntosh is not sure which--stopped and boarded the _Mishima Maru_ and insisted upon examining her papers and inspecting her passengers, for what reason McIntosh could not say, as he had merely heard the bare facts of the case. And about a quarter of an hour later, shortly after I had left McIntosh's place, I saw those two Russians who nearly missed us enter the telegraph office, and I began to smell mischief. Of course it may only be imagination, but remembering what McIntosh had told me, I wondered whether by any chance they were wiring to Dgiboutil the news of our arrival, and warning their friends to be on the lookout for us." "But why wire to Dgiboutil?" I demanded. "Because," replied Kusumoto, "Dgiboutil belongs to the French, who are strongly pro-Russian; and those craft must have a sort of headquarters at which they may receive news and instructions, and where they can replenish their bunkers and storerooms, and I know of no place so likely for this as Dgiboutil." "I see," said I. "Yes, you are most probably right, so far. But why on earth should those fellows interfere with Japanese ships? By what right do they claim to do it? The two countries are not yet at war, whatever may be the case within the next few months." "That is true," agreed the skipper. "But the mouth of the Red Sea is a long way from Japan; we have no warships anywhere near there to protect us; the Russians are by nature a very high-handed people, and not too scrupulous when dealing with a prospective enemy; and perhaps they think that before Japan could make an effective protest, we may be at war, and have other things than pin-pricks to occupy our attention." "Very true," I assented. "That may be so. But I should like to know upon what pretext they presume to molest and interfere with Japanese ships. Such action is contrary to international law, and in fact is closely akin to piracy, if indeed it is not piracy, pure and simple. Now, suppose these fellows attempt to interfere with us, what do you propose to do?" "Ah!" ejaculated Kusumoto, "that is an exceedingly difficult question to answer. I do not want them to come aboard me, if it can be helped, for--to let you into a secret--our cargo consists of munitions of war of various kinds, and if the Russians should discover that fact, as they must if they board us and force me to show my papers, they may be unscrupulous enough to play some trick upon me, either jeopardising my cargo, or possibly detaining me in some way until war is actually declared, and then confiscating both ship and cargo. I must think the matter over, and try to hit upon some plan of `besting' them, as you English say. And perhaps you two gentlemen will also give it a thought. I am only a mercantile shipmaster, and have had no experience in matters of this sort to guide me, but you are both military men, and out of your knowledge you may be able to suggest something helpful to me. Of course nothing may happen; we may not fall in with the Russians at all, which will be so much the better; but if we should encounter them, and they should attempt to interfere with me, I want to be prepared." We continued to discuss the matter for some time longer; but it is not necessary to repeat more of what was said, sufficient having been already recorded to indicate the nature of the trouble that was possibly waiting for us. The engines were only stopped long enough at Suez to enable us to land the pilot and the big searchlight which we had shipped at Port Said to help us through the canal; and, this done, we steamed on into the Gulf of Suez and the Red Sea. Our passage down the Red Sea was quite uneventful until the Hanish Islands hove in sight over the port bow--uneventful, that is to say, with one exception only, but it was an exception which seemed to cause our two Russian passengers much perturbation of spirit. For the chat which Nakamura and I had had with the skipper, shortly after leaving Port Said, had been succeeded by another on the following day, the outcome of which was that Kusumoto, with the full approval of my friend Nakamura and myself, had resolved to take the very serious step of broaching cargo, with the result that, when the passengers came up on deck, on the morning which found us off Shadwan Island, they were amazed to discover two 1-pounder Hotchkisses mounted, one on the forecastle-head and the other right aft over the taffrail, while a Maxim graced either extremity of the navigating bridge. The circumstance, with the reasons which seemed to make such a step necessary and desirable, was recorded at length in the _Matsuma Maru_ official log, signed by the skipper and countersigned, at his request, by Nakamura and myself, as accessories, so to speak. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon when the Hanish Islands hove up above the horizon, at which moment, as it happened, Nakamura and I were in the captain's cabin, where indeed we had spent most of the time of late, when we were not in our bunks. The Hanish Islands are, roughly speaking, within about one hundred miles of the Strait of Bab el Mandeb; and as we had not been interfered with thus far, we had practically made up our minds that if the Russians intended to molest us at all, it would be here, the back of the islands affording an excellent place of concealment from which to dash out upon a passing ship. Nor were we disappointed in our expectations; for when we had brought the northernmost island square abeam, a long, black, four-funnelled destroyer suddenly slid out past its southern extremity, heading west, so as to intercept us. And, looking at her through our glasses, we saw that she was flying the International Code signal, "Heave-to. I wish to speak you." "So! it's time for us to be making a move, Nakamura," said I. "You quite understand the line you are to take with those fellows, skipper? Good! Then, all that remains to be done is to get some ammunition on deck, and we shall be ready. Will you give the necessary orders?" The skipper's response was to send for the chief officer, who, at least nominally, was off duty for the time being; and five minutes later I was on the forecastle-head, the Hotchkiss' tarpaulin jacket was off, a case of ammunition for the weapon stood conveniently at hand, and "All ready for'ard!" I reported. A minute or two later, Nakamura on the bridge was also ready, with a belt of cartridges in each of his Maxims, and more at hand, if required. Meanwhile, by the skipper's order, the answering pennant had been run up to our span, and dipped to show that the signal was understood, while the Japanese mercantile flag--white, with a red ball in the centre, which is also the Japanese "Jack"--was hoisted at our gaff-end. Ten minutes later we were within hail of the destroyer, which, flying the Russian naval ensign, was lying motionless right athwart our hawse, broadside-on to us. Our engines were still running at full speed, and our safety valves were lifting, allowing a "feather" of steam to show at the head of our waste-pipe, while our quartermaster grimly kept our stem pointed fair and square between the second and third funnels of the Russian. Then skipper Kusumoto raised his megaphone and hailed the destroyer, in Russian, with: "Ho! the destroyer ahoy! Why are you lying athwart my hawse? Do you wish me to run you down?" There were two officers on the destroyer's bridge, one of whom sprang to the engine-room telegraph and thrust it over to "Full speed ahead," while the other seized a megaphone and hailed back: "Stop your engines instantly, sir! Did you not understand my signal that I wished to speak you? Starboard your helm, you confounded fool; hard a-starboard, or you'll be over us." "Then get out of my way," retorted Kusumoto. "Starboard a little," (to the quartermaster), "and just shave his stern. I'll teach him to lay his tin kettle athwart a Japanese ship's bows." The destroyer leaped from under our bows like a frightened thing, though not so quickly but that we caught her quarter with the rounding of our bows and gave her a pretty severe shaking up. Her skipper shook his fist at us and stamped on the bridge with fury. Then he raised his megaphone again and hailed: "You infernal scoundrel, I'll make you suffer for that outrage! Heave-to at once, or I'll fire into you." The boat was sweeping round on a starboard helm, and was now running practically parallel to us, at a distance of about a hundred feet. "You will fire into me, if I don't stop, you say? Is Russia at war with my country, then?" hailed Kusumoto. There was silence for a minute or two aboard the destroyer, during which the two officers on her bridge consulted eagerly together. We could see that her engine-room telegraph stood at "Full speed," yet, strange to say, she was only just holding her own with us. Then the commander of her again raised his megaphone. "My instructions are that I am to examine the papers of all foreign vessels passing down the Red Sea," he shouted; "and I must insist that you heave-to and let me board you." "I shall do nothing of the kind," retorted our skipper. "I do not admit your right to board me, so try it if you dare. I believe you are nothing less than a pirate masquerading as a Russian ship of war; and I shall treat you accordingly if you do not sheer off." This defiance was more than enough for the proud and choleric Russian, accustomed to have his every order servilely obeyed. Such unparalleled insolence from a "little yellow-skinned monkey"--as the Russians had already begun to dub the Japanese--and in the presence of his own crew, too! It was unendurable, and must be severely punished. He called an order, and the Russian seamen, who had been standing about the deck, listening half-amused and half-indignant, to the altercation, made a move in the direction of the destroyer's 4-pounder and her port torpedo deck tube. But our skipper had been expecting and keenly on the watch for such a move, and he now hailed again: "Destroyer ahoy! Keep away from the tube and the gun, you men! If I see a man attempt to approach either, I will sweep your decks with Maxim fire. Do you hear what I say?"--as half a dozen men continued to slouch toward the tube. "Open fire, there, the starboard Maxim!" Nakamura was at the gun mentioned, which he was keeping steadily trained upon the tube. At the word, he fired a single shot, and the bullet spattered into a star as it struck the mounting. The Russians halted as if turned to stone, and glanced anxiously at their commander. Kusumoto raised his megaphone and hailed: "Is that enough, or will you have more? Now, sheer off at once, if you please. If you don't, I shall fire again; and my next shots--with my Hotchkiss guns--will be at your waterline and your boilers." The Russian commander was by this time literally foaming at the mouth; he seemed speechless and beside himself with rage, and there is no knowing what the outcome might have been, had not his second in command here intervened, and, forcibly seizing him by the arms, shook him violently as he said something which we were too far off to hear. Meanwhile, ever since the firing of the shot, the helmsman of the destroyer had been quietly edging away from us; and presently, at a sign, apparently, from the junior officer, he put his helm hard over to port, and the venomous-looking craft swung sharply upon her heel, listing heavily as she did so, and a few seconds later was speeding away in the opposite direction to ourselves. But even now we had not quite done with her, for almost immediately she swung round to cross our stern, and a moment later we saw the silvery flash of a torpedo as it left her tube. Kusumoto, however, was not to be caught unawares; apparently he more than half suspected something of the kind, and was on the watch. For an instant he watched the bubbles which marked the course of the missile, and then shouted an order to our helmsman; the _Matsuma Maru_ swerved from her course, and the torpedo sped harmlessly past us, a hundred yards to port. I, too, had quite expected that the fiery Russian would not allow us to go scot-free if he could help it, therefore the moment that the destroyer swerved away from us I sprang off the forecastle and ran aft to the other Hotchkiss, which I reached too late to prevent the discharge of the torpedo. But I saw men clustering about her 4-pounder, as though about to bring it into action, and as I was more afraid of this gun than of the torpedoes, I unhesitatingly opened fire upon it, and at the fifth shot had the pleasure of dismounting it. This was enough for the Russians; they realised at last that they had caught a Tartar, and bore away for their lurking-place behind the Hanish Islands, where we eventually lost sight of them. As soon as the destroyer had disappeared, Kusumoto retired to his cabin and wrote a lengthy account of the affair in his official log-book, getting Nakamura and me to sign it, as before, in testimony of its veracity. This he did in order to justify himself for broaching cargo and temporarily mounting the Hotchkiss and Maxim guns; and it may be said here that not only was his justification accepted, but his conduct was highly commended by the authorities. About four bells in the first watch that night, we passed through the strait, and shifted our helm for Cape Guardafui, not calling at Aden, since we had coal enough to carry us on to Colombo; and we saw nothing more of the Russians until after our arrival in Japan on 22nd January 1904. CHAPTER THREE. WAR! On the morning of the day which witnessed my arrival in the Land of the Rising Sun, the berth-room steward who brought me my early cup of coffee informed me, with a broad grin of satisfaction, that we were in Sagami Bay; that it was a beautiful morning, but very cold; and that he would advise me to turn out at once if I desired to obtain the best possible view of Fujiyama, or Fujisan, as the Japanese love to call it. I took his advice, bathed and dressed with seamanlike celerity, and, donning a thick, warm ulster, made my way to the navigating bridge, catching my first glimpses of Japan--Shimoda, on the port, and the island of Oshima on the starboard quarter, as I went. And when I reached the bridge and took my stand beside Sadakiyo, the chief officer, I mentally returned thanks to that steward for his advice, and was glad that I had acted upon it, for the sight which met my gaze was beautiful beyond all power of description, and such as I shall never forget. The air was clear as crystal, there was no wind, and the water was mirror-smooth, its surface dotted with fishing-boats, the unpainted hulls and white sails of which floated double, with nothing to show the junction of substance with reflection. Reflected, too, were the serrated ridges of Awa's and Kasusa's mountain-peaks and their ravines, dark and mysterious, with little villages of grey huts surmounted by high-pitched roofs of thatch clustering here and there along the beach to starboard, while, to port, dominating all else, towered high in air the majestic, snow-crowned peak of Fujisan, its summit blushing a delicate rosy pink in the first light of dawn. And, as I gazed, that beautiful rosy tint suddenly changed to gold as it caught the first rays of the rising sun, invisible to us, as yet, behind the high land to starboard, and as speedy as thought the light flashed down the mountain-side, revealing its matchless perfection of form, and bathing it in the glory of a hundred varied and beautiful tints. Moving forward at reduced speed, to avoid the destruction of a few of the fishing-boats or junks that were ever becoming more numerous as the land closed in upon us on either side, we at length sighted and passed a lightship with, somewhat to my surprise, the words "Treaty Point" painted in large letters upon her red sides. If I had thought upon the matter at all, I should naturally have expected to see the name of the ship set forth in, to me, unintelligible hieroglyphics, but instead, there it was in plain homely English, and I comforted myself with the reflection that if the Japanese used British characters and words to distinguish their lightships, my as yet very imperfect knowledge of their tongue was not going to handicap me as heavily as I had feared. In due time we arrived in the roadstead of Yokohama--not so very long ago a small fishing village, but now an important city--and made fast to our buoy. Instantly the ship was surrounded by sampans, and the occupants, not a few of whom were Chinese, swarmed aboard, eager to find buyers for the fruit, _sake_, and other articles which they had for sale. The jabber of tongues was incessant and deafening, and the importunities of the salesmen a trifle annoying; but Nakamura quickly sent them to the right-about, and inviting me to go up on the bridge with him--we were staying aboard to lunch with the skipper--we amused ourselves by watching the debarkation of the other passengers, my companion, between whiles, pointing out the various objects of interest visible from our standpoint. I must confess that I was not very greatly impressed by Yokohama, as viewed from the roadstead. The most prominent object was the "Bund," or water-front, which is a wide wharf or esplanade, backed by gardens, hotels, and well-built dwelling-houses. Then there is the "Bluff," covered with fine villas and dwelling-houses, large and small, and of pleasing varieties of architecture; and, finally, there are the "Settlement" and the native town, about which I need say nothing. After luncheon, by which time all the passengers but ourselves had gone ashore, we engaged a sampan, bade Kusumoto and the ship's officers farewell, and landed in the English "hatoba," which is a sort of floating basin, the shore end of which consists of landing-steps alongside which a whole fleet of boats can be accommodated at once. A word from Nakamura caused our baggage to be at once passed through the Customs with only the merest pretence at examination, and then, engaging rickshas, or "kurumas," as the Japanese call them, we wended our way to the railway station, and took train for Tokio. The journey of eighteen miles was performed in an hour, in an exceedingly comfortable first-class carriage, upholstered in red morocco; and I noticed that the guard and engine-driver of the train were Englishmen--another good sign for me, I thought. Although the speed of the train was nothing to boast of, I found the journey interesting, for the scenery, with its little grey villages of thatched, wooden houses, and the temples with their quaintly shaped roofs on the one hand, and the sea on the other, with its islands, wooded gardens, and hundreds of fishing-boats, with Fujisan always dominating everything else, were all novelties to me. The railway does not run right into the city of Tokio, but has its terminus at the village of Shimbashi, on the outskirts; here, therefore, we left the train and, engaging kurumas for ourselves and our baggage, drove to the Imperial Hotel, where Nakamura advised me to take up my quarters _pro tem_, and where he also intended to stay, that night. It was then six o'clock in the evening, and too late to transact our business, so, after a wash and brush-up, we sallied forth to see something of the city. On the following morning, at ten o'clock, I presented myself before Vice-Admiral Baron Yamamoto, the Minister of the Navy, and handed him my credentials. He received me with great politeness, read a private letter from Viscount Hayashi, of which I was the bearer, asked me a good many questions as to the length and nature of my service in the British Navy, and my experiences therein, and finally handed me my commission as Lieutenant, together with a letter to Admiral Togo, which I was to deliver to him at Sasebo, without delay. Now, Sasebo is situated on the north-western extremity of the island of Kiushiu, and is nearer seven than six hundred miles from Tokio; moreover, I found that during my voyage out to Japan, events had been progressing by leaps and bounds--so far at least as Japan was concerned. In diplomatic circles war with Russia was regarded as not only inevitable but imminent, and preparations for the struggle were being breathlessly pushed forward day and night. Of the evacuation of Manchuria by Russia, which should have been _completed_ on the 8th of the preceding October, there was still no sign; on the contrary, everything pointed to a determination on the part of Russia to make her occupation permanent. Actions, it is said, speak louder than words, and while the diplomats on both sides were still engaged in an apparent endeavour to settle matters amicably, the action of those on the Russian side was characterised by systematic procrastination and delay which admitted of but one interpretation, namely, that Russia had no intention to quit Manchuria until she was compelled to do so by force. This being the state of affairs, I interpreted Baron Yamamoto's order literally, leaving Tokio by the first available train. This took me back to Yokohama, where I only quitted it because I found I could proceed no farther until nine o'clock that night. At that hour, then, I made a fresh start and, not to dwell unduly upon this part of my story, reached Sasebo late in the evening of 26th January, having been delayed upon the road owing to the congestion of traffic caused by the war preparations. Sasebo was a very hive of activity, to such an extent indeed that I had the greatest difficulty in finding quarters. All the hotels were packed to their utmost limit, and indeed I do not know how I should eventually have fared had I not luckily encountered an unmistakable Briton, whom I halted, and to whom I confided my plight, asking if he could direct me to some place where I could find accommodation for the night. He turned out to be a Scotsman named Boyd, in business at Sasebo, and no sooner had I made my situation plain to him than he took me by the arm in the most friendly manner and exclaimed: "Come awa' hame wi' me, laddie. I'll pit ye up wi' the greatest of pleasure, and the gude-wife 'll be gey an' pleased to meet a body fresh frae the auld country." It was easy to see that the fine fellow was absolutely sincere in his invitation; I therefore gladly accepted it, and, half an hour later, found myself comfortably housed in the bosom of a typically hospitable Scottish family, whom I found most delightfully genial, and from whom I subsequently received much kindness. By my friend Boyd's advice I sallied forth early the next morning in search of Admiral Togo, who was of course up to his eyes in business, and who would be difficult to find unless I could catch him before he left his hotel. I was fortunate enough to arrive while he was still at breakfast, and, having sent in my card, was at once admitted. I found him still seated at the table, in company with several other officers, all of them dressed in a naval uniform almost identical in cut and appearance with our own. Like every other Japanese I ever met, he received me with the utmost politeness, and, having read Baron Yamamoto's letter of introduction, again shook hands with me most heartily, expressed the pleasure it afforded him to welcome another Englishman into Japan's naval service, and forthwith proceeded to introduce me to the other officers present, one of whom, I remember, was Captain Ijichi, of the _Mikasa_, Togo's flagship. They all spoke English, more or less, Togo perfectly, for he had served as a boy aboard the British training ship _Worcester_, and later in our own navy. Also he had taken a course of study at the Royal Naval College, Greenwich. He was a typical Japanese, short and thick-set, with black eyes that seemed to pierce one through and through and read one's innermost thoughts. His hair, beard, and moustache were black, lightly touched here and there with grey, and though it is a little difficult to correctly estimate the age of a Japanese, I set him down at about fifty, which I subsequently learned was not far out. Like Baron Yamamoto, the Admiral asked me quite a number of questions; and at length, when he found that I had qualified for gunnery, torpedo, and navigating duties, and had seen service in a destroyer, he said: "You seem to have an exceptionally good record for a young man of your years, Mr Swinburne; so good, indeed, that I feel disposed to avail myself to the utmost possible extent of your services. I foresee that in the coming war the destroyer is destined to play a most important part, and while I anticipate that the service which that class of craft will be called upon to perform will be of the most arduous description, and of course exceedingly dangerous, it will also afford its officers exceptional opportunities to distinguish themselves. Now, it happens that I have one destroyer--the _Kasanumi_, one of our best boats--for which, thus far, I have been unable to find a suitable commander; your arrival comes therefore at a most opportune moment, for the perusal of your record convinces me that you are the very man for whom I have been looking. I rather flatter myself that I am a good judge of character, and I believe that you will do as much credit to the ship as she will to you. Now, what do you say? Will the command of a destroyer be satisfactory to you?" "Indeed it will, sir," I replied, "and more than satisfactory. I have not dared to hope for such a big slice of good fortune, and I know not how to adequately express my thanks for the confidence you are reposing in me." "Nay," answered Togo, "there is no need for thanks, at least in words. You can best show your appreciation by deeds, for which I promise you shall be afforded abundant opportunity. And now, if you are anything like what I take you to be, you will be all anxiety to see your ship; is it not so? Very well; you will find her in the small graving dock, where she is being scraped and repainted. Go down and have a good look at her, inside and out; and if you can offer any suggestions for improvements on board, I will give them my best consideration. Do you know your way to the docks? If not, I will find somebody to act as guide for you." "I am very much obliged, sir," I replied, "but I should prefer to find my own way, if you please. I have been studying Japanese during the passage out, and I am anxious to make the most of every opportunity to increase my knowledge of the language." "Good!" exclaimed Togo, in Japanese. "I believe you will do very well. Do you understand that?" he added, in English. "Yes, sir," I replied, in Japanese; "and I am much obliged for your good opinion." My speech was a bit halting and my pronunciation by no means perfect, but it was evidently intelligible, for the whole party applauded me and shouted words of encouragement, some of which I understood, while others puzzled me. Then, as I turned to leave the room, the Admiral said: "When you have had a good look at your ship, Mr Swinburne, come to me aboard the _Mikasa_, where I shall be all the morning." I found the docks without difficulty, and in the smaller graving dock lay the _Kasanumi_, my first command! Seen thus, out of water, she looked a craft of quite important dimensions, as indeed she was, being more than two hundred feet in length. She had four funnels, the space between the second and third being only about half that between numbers one and two, and three and four. She had beautiful lines, and looked as though she ought to be an excellent sea boat. Her armament consisted of one 12-pounder, mounted aft, and five 6-pounders, all quick-fire guns capable of discharging ten shots per minute. She also mounted on the after-deck two 18-inch torpedo tubes, firing Whiteheads of an effective range of eight hundred yards at a speed of thirty knots, and carrying a charge of one hundred and seventy-one pounds of gun-cotton--enough to destroy a battleship, if it happened to hit the right spot. The dock foreman, who happened to be an Englishman, told me that she was British built--a Thorneycroft boat, he believed--and that, on trial, she had steamed as much as thirty-three knots! Here was a craft which any reasonable man might be proud to command, and I there and then registered a vow that it should not be my fault if she did not make a name for herself during the coming war. She was painted white, with a lead-colour bottom, and her four funnels were white with black tops. But they were burning and scraping off all her outside paint, from the sheer-strake downward, and I asked the foreman what colour they were going to repaint her. He answered that this had not yet been decided, whereupon I requested him to provide me with three small pots of paint, white, black, and blue, and with these three I compounded a smoky-grey tint of medium depth which I believed would be practically invisible by day and quite invisible at night, and this tint I applied to a small piece of board which I requested the foreman to take care of for me. Then I went aboard and had a look at the _Kasanumi's_ interior arrangements. The engine and boiler-rooms, the torpedo room, and magazine naturally absorbed a large proportion of the interior space, but the accommodation for officers and crew, though a trifle cramped, was sufficient to ensure quite a reasonable amount of comfort. Everything of course was done to economise space, and the fittings were all quite plain, but the cabin which would be mine was a compact, cosy, little cubbyhole, with a tiny stove to warm it in cold weather, and I believed I could make myself very happy and comfortable in it, although the beams were so low that I should never be able to stand upright. The engines were superb pieces of machinery, as of course they had need to be, to drive the boat at a speed of thirty-three knots, and the working parts shone like burnished silver and gold, while the rest was painted green. I spent two hours aboard, making a few notes referring to suggestions which I proposed to make to the Admiral, and then started off to find the _Mikasa_. This was not difficult, for the whole fleet--excepting one battleship and two cruisers in dry dock--were lying off the dockyard, while the _Mikasa_ was easily distinguishable, even to a stranger, from the fact that she was flying the Admiral's flag. I noticed also that her stem-head was decorated with a gilded conventional representation of the open chrysanthemum, the Imperial crest. The Admiral was in his cabin, I was informed, when I got aboard, but I was kept waiting nearly an hour before I was admitted to his presence, for he was holding something very much like a council of war with the officers of his fleet when I arrived. But when at length--the council coming to an end--I was ushered into the cabin, I could not avoid being surprised at the wonderful courtesy and politeness which everybody exhibited to everybody else, notwithstanding that they were all evidently so full of business that they seemed scarcely to know which job to tackle first. As soon as Togo caught sight of me he beckoned me forward and introduced me to as many of those present as I had not already met, and, this done, he handed me my appointment to the _Kasanumi_, and requested me to at once take up my command. Then he asked me if I had any suggestions to make; and upon my answering that I had, he opened a notebook which lay upon the table, and jotted them down as I read them out to him, and promised to give them early consideration. As I bowed myself out of the cabin he called after me, advising me to see to the ordering of my uniforms at once, as events were progressing rapidly, and there was no knowing how soon it might be necessary for us all to go to sea. Stepping out on deck, I encountered Captain Ijichi, the skipper of the ship, in earnest converse with several of his officers, to whom he at once introduced me, whereupon the First Lieutenant invited me to dine that night, aboard the ship, as his guest, which invitation I naturally accepted. A week of feverish activity now ensued, by the end of which time every dock in Sasebo was empty, and every ship in the harbour ready, down to the last ropeyarn, bunkers and magazines full, and even the fires laid under the boilers ready to light at a second's notice. War was by this time an absolute certainty, and the only question was when would it break out. The Japanese plan of campaign was ready cut and dried, and Togo, resolved to be in a position to act upon the instant of the receipt of his orders, had already dispatched the cruiser _Akashi_ to sea, with instructions to ascertain the whereabouts of the Russian fleet and, after securing this information, to rendezvous at Mokpo, a port situate at the south-western extremity of the Korean peninsula. I had said farewell to my very kind friends, the Boyds, some days before, and had taken up my abode aboard the _Kasanumi_, which, with the _Asashio, Shirakumo_, and _Akatsuki_, constituted the 1st Division of the destroyer flotilla. Admiral Togo had approved my suggestion to paint the entire exterior of the boat a medium smoky-grey tint, and the effect had proved so satisfactory that the skippers of several other destroyers had followed my example. At length dawned the eventful 6th of February 1904. A fresh north-easter was blowing, the sky was heavy and louring, and a fierce squall of snow and sleet was sweeping the harbour when a gun from the _Mikasa_ caused all eyes to turn toward her, and the next moment there fluttered from her yardarms the signals commanding the fleet to light fires and prepare to weigh! So it had come then, that fateful moment for which we had all been waiting with bated breath, for a full week; and as the purport of the signals became known, a frenzied roar of "Banzai Nippon!" went up from ships and shore, a roar that sent a shiver of excitement thrilling through me, so deep, so intense, so indicative of indomitable determination, of courage, and of intense patriotism was it. Peal after peal of "Banzais" swept over the sullen, turbulent waters of the harbour, to be taken up and repeated by the thousands who thronged the wharves ashore, and who seemed to have sprung from nowhere in an instant; and before the shouts died away thin curls of light brown smoke were already rising from the funnels of the fleet and six fast transport steamers which were lying a little nearer the shore. Half an hour later, the blare of bands was heard ashore, one of the wharves was hurriedly cleared of people, and presently soldiers were seen marching down on to that wharf and aboard a whole fleet of lighters that were lying alongside. It was indicative of the thoroughness with which the Japanese authorities had thought out every minutest detail, that within three hours, three thousand troops, horse, foot, and artillery, with all their kit and camp equipment complete, were transferred from the shore to the transports, and the latter had signalled that they were ready to get under way. It was not, however, until shortly before two o'clock in the afternoon that the signal was made for the fleet to weigh and proceed to sea, by which time every ship was under a full head of steam; and then the fleet, which up to then had lain quiescent, burst into strenuous but orderly activity. Officers on the several bridges seized megaphones and shouted orders through them; boatswain's whistles shrilled and boatswain's lungs bellowed, "Clear lower deck! Hands up anchor, ahoy!" the massive cables began to quiver and clank as they were hove in; the flagship became a very rainbow of rapidly changing signal flags; answering pennants appeared like magic and vanished again; hundreds of sampans and craft of every description--anything and everything that would float, apparently--loaded with men and women, all frantic with patriotic excitement, put off from the shore and formed a sort of lane for the fleet to steam through, the men yelling "Banzai!" until it seemed as though their throats would crack, while the women--many of whom were very pretty, while all looked charmingly demure--urged the boatmen to pull in as close as possible to the ships, that they might strew with artificial flowers the water through which we were about to pass. The military bands aboard the transports were playing what I supposed to be patriotic airs, from the applause which they evoked, steam was roaring from the safety valves, fussy little tugs were rushing hither and thither, and at the precise moment when the water under the _Mikasa's_ counter broke into a sudden swirl and the ship began to move, a transient gleam of wintry sunshine burst through the clouds and fell full upon her! It was the finishing touch; everybody unquestioningly accepted it as an omen of victory and triumph, and the thousands afloat and ashore incontinently went mad with joy. And indeed there was every excuse for so much enthusiasm, for we presented a truly imposing sight as we swept out to sea, a fleet consisting of six battleships, six armoured cruisers, four 23-knot light cruisers, six protected cruisers, and eighteen destroyers, surrounding the six transports. The primary object of the expedition was to escort the transports to Chemulpo, where the troops were to be landed to effect the seizure of Seoul, the capital of Korea; and, this accomplished, Togo was to find and defeat the Russian fleet, which, so long as it existed and was free to roam the seas, constituted a most formidable menace to Japan. Twelve knots was the steaming speed ordered for the fleet; and the course was due west for the passage between the islands of Gotoshima and Ukushima. As soon as we were clear of the harbour the destroyers, in five divisions, were ordered to take up scouting duty, which we did by arranging ourselves in a complete circle round the fleet, the boats being about a mile apart, thus forming a circle of eighteen miles in circumference. The weather was vile, for after that transient gleam of sunshine which had marked the moment of our departure, the clouds had closed over us again in a compact mass, and pelted us with sleet and snow so thickly that it was only with the utmost difficulty we were able to see the next boat ahead and astern; also it was so piercingly cold that even the long lamb's-wool coat, with which I had taken the precaution to provide myself, seemed utterly inadequate. Fortunately, excitement and the joy of finding myself not only once more under a pennant but actually in command, with a war before me in which I felt convinced I should have ample opportunity to prove my mettle, helped to keep me warm. And there was pride, too; pride in my ship and pride in my crew; for there was not a better or faster little ship in the fleet than the _Kasanumi_, while my crew, officers, and men alike, were splendid fellows, fine sturdy men, with the courage of lions, the lithe, light-footed activity of cats, and respectfully and promptly obedient to an extent which left nothing to be desired. My "sub," a merry, light-hearted little fellow, named Ito, although more than a year my senior, displayed not an atom of jealousy, but carried out my every order with the same prompt, unquestioning alacrity as the men; he was keen as mustard, and his chief, indeed his only, recreation seemed to be the working out of battle problems. For the first four hours of our voyage, while we were still well under the lee of the land, the water was moderately smooth; but when, about seven o'clock that evening, the negotiation of the passage between the islands had been successfully accomplished, and we found ourselves fairly out at sea, and shifted our helms to pass to the northward of Quelpart Island, we soon found that we were in for a regular "dusting." For we presently ran into a high, steep sea, which our shift of helm brought almost square abeam, yet just enough on our starboard quarter to set us all rolling and squirming most atrociously, particularly the "mosquito" division. Our every roll, whether to port or starboard, sent us gunwale under, so that it was only with the utmost difficulty we managed to retain our footing, while more than half my complement, on deck as well as below, suffered agonies of sea-sickness; yet they stuck to their work like heroes. The spray swept us continually from end to end, flying high over the tops of our low funnels, and freezing as it fell, so that the watch on deck were kept busy chipping the ice off our decks and shovelling it overboard; yet, wretchedly uncomfortable as was the weather, the destroyers, running at less than half-speed, rode the sea like gulls, and kept station with the utmost ease. Shortly after eight bells in the middle watch, the weather cleared and the stars shone out with piercing brilliancy, enabling us to see the whole of the big ships and the transports, although we were all steaming with lights out, except for a solitary shrouded lantern carried by each ship right aft, to enable her next astern to keep station. The night passed without incident, but shortly after sunrise, smoke was sighted broad on our port bow, the ship from which it proceeded evidently steering to the northward. We all seemed to see it at the same instant, for in less than half a minute the signal reporting the circumstance was flying aboard nearly every craft in the fleet. But the lookouts aboard the _Mikasa_ were evidently as wide awake as any of us, for our flags were scarcely aloft when the flagship signalled the armoured cruiser _Asama_ to chase in the south-western board; and in little more than an hour afterward she rejoined the fleet, accompanied by the Russian steamer _Argun_, as a prize. We flattered ourselves that the honour of capturing the first prize of the war had fallen to us; but, later on, we learned, to our disgust, that when the _Argun_ was taken into Sasebo, there were already three more prizes there to keep her company. We arrived off Mokpo about ten o'clock that morning, when the _Akashi_ came out to meet us and make her report. We of the rank and file, so to speak, did not, of course, know at the time what was the nature of that report, which was for the Admiral's ear alone; but, later on, it leaked out that it was to the effect that the Russian fleet at Port Arthur had begun to move on the last day of January, by warping and towing certain of the ships out of harbour. This movement had continued on the first and second days of February, by the end of which time the entire fleet was anchored in the roadstead; and it seemed pretty evident that Admiral Alexieff was preparing to vigorously carry the war into the enemy's country, which was the great fear that had been haunting Togo from the moment when he received his instructions to put to sea. His dread was that the Russian fleet would forestall him by getting to sea first, steam to the southward, and, getting into touch with one or more of the craft which were certain to be watching the Japanese fleet, would lie _perdu_ until that fleet had passed to the northward, and then fall upon and ravage the unprotected Japanese coast. And, at first sight, this seemed to be the Russian Admiral's intention, for, on the 4th of February, the fleet, having coaled, weighed and steamed out to sea, leaving only two battleships--the _Sevastopol_ and _Peresviet_--in the harbour, where they had perversely stuck on the mud and refused to be got afloat again, for the moment at least. The Russians, twenty-six ships strong, inclusive of eleven destroyers, having cleared the roadstead, steamed slowly to the eastward, and were, that same day, sighted in the offing from Wei-hai-wei, apparently practising evolutions. But on the following day they all returned to Port Arthur, and anchored in the roadstead, under the guns of the batteries. The pith of the _Akashi's_ report, therefore, was that there were two Russian ships--the new cruiser _Variag_, and the gunboat _Korietz_--at Chemulpo, four cruisers and an armed merchantman at Vladivostock, while the remainder of the Russian fleet was at Port Arthur. Possessed of this knowledge, Togo issued orders to Rear-Admiral Uriu, in the _Takachiho_, to take command of a squadron consisting of, in addition to his own ship, the _Asatna_, _Chiyoda_, _Niitaka_, and _Miyako_, with eight destroyers, and with them to convoy the transports to Chemulpo, taking measures upon his arrival, to insure that the Russian ships should not interfere with the landing of the troops. Those were the only orders of which we were aware, but in the light of what occurred after Uriu's arrival at Chemulpo, it is probable that the Vice-Admiral was given a considerable amount of latitude with regard to his further proceedings. It was about seven o'clock in the evening when the two fleets parted company, the _Mikasa_ signalling: "I congratulate you in anticipation of your success," to which the _Takachiho_ replied: "Thanks for your kindness." Then the signal was given by wireless for the main fleet to proceed on a north-westerly course, in an extended formation of line abreast, with the destroyers scouting on both wings, and a great shout of "Banzai Nippon!" went up, for everybody knew that north-west was the road to Port Arthur, where Togo fervently hoped and prayed he might find the Russian fleet still at anchor. For, if not, it would certainly mean that Alexieff had proved himself the better strategist of the two, and had contrived in some subtle manner to slip past us to the westward, when any one or two of three terrible things might happen. He might realise Togo's original terrible fear of an attack on the undefended coast of Japan; or he might make for Chemulpo and destroy the Japanese squadron and transports upon their arrival there; or he might pass through the Korean Strait northward to Vladivostock and there unite his two forces, when he would be strong enough to give no end of trouble, if not indeed to defeat us out of hand and so decide the war at one fell stroke. It was exceedingly difficult to know what to do for the best, and our gallant little Admiral felt to the full the responsibility attaching to his momentous decision, as was made manifest when, about two bells in the first watch, the order was wirelessed to the fleet to alter the course twenty-two degrees to the northward, evidently with the object of falling in with the Russians, should they by any chance be making for Chemulpo. Our next order was to clear for action. To further increase our difficulties and embarrassments, the weather had again changed for the worse. The sun had set in a wrack of wild, storm-riven cloud painted with the hues of fire and smoke, which, louring threateningly, had overspread the sky with incredible rapidity, completely obscuring the light of the stars; the wind, still icy cold, had breezed up again savagely, kicking up a tremendous sea, the spray from which quickly drenched us in the destroyers to the skin, despite our "oilies," sou'-westers, and sea boots; yet the staunch little vessels, though rolling and pitching in the most distracting manner, rode like gulls the seas which, to us, seemed to be literally running "mountains high." True, our speed was only about twelve knots; what the _Kasanumi's_ behaviour would probably have been at double that speed, in such a sea, I shuddered to think. But I was destined to _know_, in the not-far-distant future. When Ito, my lieutenant, called me at midnight to relieve him, he informed me that a wireless message had just been received from the flagship, ordering a shift of helm for the Elliot group of islands, distant some sixty miles from Port Arthur, and for the speed to be increased to sixteen knots, which order he had acknowledged and executed, as I discovered, the moment I tumbled out of my hammock; for the boat was kicking up her heels more madly than ever, while every few seconds there resounded a heavy thud on the deck overhead, and the craft shivered from stem to stern as she drove her sharp nose into the heart of a great comber, throwing the water in tons over herself. This was the rough side of work aboard a destroyer, with a vengeance, and I spent four miserable hours on the navigating bridge, drenched to the skin, and pierced to the marrow by the bitter cold. All things come to an end, however, sooner or later; and about two o'clock next day we steamed into the sheltered waters of the Elliot Islands and came to an anchor. This was the spot which the Admiral had selected to serve as a rendezvous and lurking-place from which he could sally forth with a good chance of cutting off the Port Arthur fleet, should it venture to stray far from the shelter of the fortress; and subsequently it was often referred to in his dispatches as "a certain place." CHAPTER FOUR. THE COUNCIL IN THE MIKASA'S CABIN. As we entered the roadstead we found there, at anchor, a small Chinese junk of such a dilapidated and weather-beaten appearance that she seemed as though she might go to pieces at any moment. She was flying the Japanese mercantile flag, a white flag with a red ball in the centre-- which is also the Japanese "Jack," and I soon learned that in her case, as in many others, appearances were deceptive, for I was assured that she was as staunch as staunch could be. She was officered and manned by a Chinese crew, and she was ostensibly loaded with bricks; but surrounded by these bricks, which were only a blind, was a sturdy little closed-in engine and boiler, the smoke from the latter issuing from the unusually big chimney of her galley stove, while the engine worked a small but powerful set of pumps which strongly sucked in water through her bows and discharged it equally strongly from her stern, under water, of course, giving her a speed of seven knots in smooth water. And when I sought further information with regard to this mysterious craft, I was informed by Ito, who seemed to know all about her, that she had been purchased by the Japanese Secret Service Department, fitted with her engine, boiler, and pumps by an ingenious Japanese engineer, and that her business was to go to and fro between Port Arthur and "a certain place," ostensibly as a trader, but in reality that her skipper, a particularly bold and clever spy, might obtain information for the Japanese. The spy's name, it appeared, was Hang-won,--a rather ominous name, I thought, under the circumstances,--while the name of the junk was _Chung-sa_. She had arrived from Port Arthur about midday, and this was Hang-won's first essay in Japan's service. But he had brought from Port Arthur two items of news that were likely to prove most valuable to us; one of them being, that the Russian destroyers were being sent to sea every night to reconnoitre, and that upon their return they always showed a white light above a red, to indicate that they were Russian; while the second item was to the effect that that day, 8th February, happened to be the name-day of Madame Stark, the wife of the Russian Admiral, and that in honour of the day a great banquet was to be given at nine o'clock that night, at the Admiral's house, which was to be followed by a special performance at a circus which chanced to be in the town. The moment that this information was communicated to Togo, he recognised the magnificent possibilities offered by the occasion. For it was morally certain that, between the banquet and the circus, most of the officers, and possibly also a good many of the men, of the Russian fleet would be ashore, that night; and what better opportunity for an attack upon it was likely to offer? The chance was very much too good to be missed, and a signal was at once made for the captains of all craft, destroyers included, to repair on board the _Mikasa_. I was one of the last to reach the flagship, for the destroyers were anchored outside the rest of the fleet, and when I arrived the Admiral's cabin was full of men, as many of them as could find room being seated round the table, while the rest were accommodated with chairs. All were talking indiscriminately together, for the council had not yet begun; but it was characteristic of Togo that he saw me the instant I entered the cabin, and rose to shake hands with me, exclaiming, "Ah! here comes our young British giant." Then, pointing to a chair near himself, he motioned me to be seated, saying as he did so with a humorous smile: "Well, Mr Swinburne, I hope you find the _Kasanumi_ a nice, steady, comfortable ship. Is there room enough in her for you to stretch yourself, or shall we have to lengthen her a few feet?" "She is a splendid little craft, sir," I said heartily, "far better than the British boat in which I saw some service. She is a magnificent sea boat, and came through the wild weather of yesterday and last night without turning a hair. True, she is a bit cramped between the beams, and I have already raised a few bumps on my head while trying to stand upright in my cabin; but I'm ready to go anywhere and attempt anything in her." "That's right," remarked Togo; "you show the true Nelson spirit, sir-- the spirit which we expect to find in every Briton; the spirit which we so greatly admire, and which we are humbly striving to imbue our Japanese seamen with. So you are `ready to go anywhere and attempt anything,' eh? Excellent! I hope to afford you the opportunity to show us what you can do before you are many hours older." Then, turning to where Captain Ijichi stood near the cabin door, he said, in Japanese: "Are all present, Ijichi?" Some half a dozen officers had followed close upon my heels, and I noticed that, as each entered, the _Mikasa's_ skipper had ticked off something on a list which he held in his hand. "All present, sir," answered Ijichi, referring to his list. "Good!" remarked the Admiral. "Then, be so good as to tell the sentry that we are on no account to be interrupted. Then close the door and find a seat for yourself." With the closing of the cabin door the general conversation that had been proceeding came to an abrupt termination and a tense silence ensued. Togo looked round the cabin, as though taking stock of us all; then in a few terse words he communicated to us the information which he had just learned from Hang-won, who, by the way, was still in the cabin, ready to answer any questions that might be put to him. "Now, gentlemen," he continued, "there is no need for me to enlarge upon the splendid opportunity which Madame Stark's celebration of her name-day offers us to strike a heavy blow at the enemy's fleet; I am sure that you will all see it for yourselves. The only question is: In what way can we best avail ourselves of the opportunity? What form is the blow to take? "So far as we are concerned, we are seventeen ships strong, apart from our destroyers, while our friend, Hang-won, informs me that the Russian fleet consists of fourteen ships, again apart from destroyers. We are therefore three ships to the good. But, of those fourteen Russian ships, seven are battleships, while we muster only six; furthermore, the whole fleet is anchored under the protection of the Port Arthur batteries, a further tremendous advantage to them. Notwithstanding this, however, the opportunity is such a splendid one that, were my hands free, I should be strongly disposed to take my whole fleet into Port Arthur roadstead, engage the Russian ships at close quarters, trusting to find them unprepared; do them as much damage as possible with our heavy guns; and trust to our destroyers to complete their destruction while the confusion of the surprise was at its height. But, gentlemen, I cannot do this. My orders from the Cabinet and the Elder Statesmen are clear and precise, and under no circumstances whatever am I to disobey them. They are, that I am never to risk my ships, especially my battleships, by exposing them to the fire of the Port Arthur batteries; and if I do not myself obey orders, how may I expect that my orders will be obeyed? Strict and unquestioning obedience to orders is, as you all know, almost an article of faith with us; therefore, sorely tempted though I am, to disobey just this once, I dare not set an example which might be fraught with the most disastrous consequences. Hence, gentlemen, I have summoned you this afternoon, to assist me with your counsels. I may mention that, keeping in view the fact that my superiors, the Government, have given me certain orders which I must obey, the only thing I can see for it is to send in our destroyers, and let them do their best. Can any of you suggest a better plan?" For a full minute or more a tense silence reigned in the cabin, everybody apparently waiting for somebody else to speak first. Then a young officer in lieutenant's uniform (whom I subsequently learned was no less a personage than Prince Kasho, one of the _Mikasa's_ officers), rose and, bowing first to the Admiral and then to the rest of us, said, in Japanese of course: "Do I understand, Admiral, that your question carries with it your permission to us to express our candid opinion?" "Assuredly," answered Togo. "Good!" returned the Prince. "Then, since no one else appears to have a suggestion to offer, perhaps I may be permitted to do so, though I happen to be the junior of most of the honourable officers present. You told us just now, sir, that, _were your hands free_, you would be strongly disposed to take your entire fleet into Port Arthur roadstead, where, I understand, almost every Russian ship of importance in Eastern waters now rides at anchor, and make an end of them." The speaker was here interrupted by a low murmur of applause from many of the officers present, who seemed to have a shrewd suspicion of what was coming. Togo held up his hand for silence, the Prince bowed smilingly to his audience, who he felt he had with him, and resumed: "But you tell us, sir, that you are not free to exercise your own discretion, that your hands are tied by certain orders which you have received; and you have reminded us that implicit obedience is the supreme virtue, almost an article of religious faith, with the Japanese. "With that sentiment, sir, I am, I scarcely need say, in perfect, whole-hearted agreement. But there is a point which I wish to make, and it is this. The Cabinet and the Elder Statesmen are, as their designation indicates, _statesmen_; they are neither soldiers nor sailors. And while I will not attempt to dispute either their wisdom or their right to formulate certain general rules for the guidance of their Generals and Admirals, I feel that I should not be doing my full duty to my country, in the circumstances which now confront us, if I did not boldly declare my fixed conviction that such general rules as I have just alluded to ought to be regarded and accepted by us merely as guides, and not as definite, imperative orders which are under no circumstances whatsoever to be disobeyed." Here another little murmur of applause, more general and decided than the first, ran round the cabin. As it died away, the speaker resumed: "I cannot believe, sir, that the orders laid upon you were intended to deprive you of the power to exercise your own discretion under such exceptional circumstances as the present; and I therefore take upon myself the responsibility of saying, here in the presence of all your officers, that I believe you would be amply justified in acting in the manner that you indicated a few minutes ago." There was no mistaking the meaning of the applause that rang through the cabin now; it was perfectly evident that--with the solitary exceptions of the Admiral and myself--the Prince had every man present heartily with him. "I have but a very few more words to add, sir," the speaker resumed, when the applause died away, "and they are these. What you have told us concerning to-night's projected happenings in Port Arthur seems to indicate that an opportunity, such as may never occur again, now offers for us to strike such a blow at the enemy that it will be impossible for him ever to recover from it; and if the striking of that blow does indeed involve actual disobedience of precise orders, I venture to assert that the result will amply justify the deed." The Prince resumed his seat amid thunders of applause which rang through the cabin for at least a couple of minutes. When at length it died down, Togo rose to his feet. "Gentlemen," he said, "I gather from your plaudits that you all fully agree with Prince Kasho's honourable speech, for which I beg to most heartily thank him, although it places me upon the horns of a dilemma. Let that pass, for the moment, however. What I want, now, is that each of you should, in as few words as possible, express your opinion upon the Prince's suggestion that I should take the whole of my ships into Port Arthur roadstead and engage the enemy in a pitched battle." In response to this appeal, the officers rose, one after the other, apparently in the order of their seniority; and each man expressed his hearty concurrence with Prince Kasho's proposal, the concurrence being accompanied in many cases by the expression of sundry lofty and beautiful sentiments extolling the virtues of patriotism and valour. At length everybody had spoken except myself, and I was heartily hoping that I should be passed over as a person of so little account that my opinion would not be considered worth having. Not so, however. The Admiral turned to me and said, with a smile: "And now at last we come to our honourable English friend, the captain of the _Kasanumi_. What has he to say upon the matter? You have heard what has been said; and although you have perhaps been unable, through your restricted knowledge of our language, to grasp the full meaning of it all, you may possibly have understood enough to enable you to comprehend the way in which this momentous question appeals to the Japanese heart and intellect. Now, kindly favour us with the view which you, as a hard-headed Englishman, take of it." "Really, sir," I said in English, springing to my feet in some confusion, "I would very much prefer to be excused, if you will kindly allow me. It would be the most rank presumption on my part to--" "No, no," cried several voices, among which I distinctly recognised that of Prince Kasho; "let us hear what the honourable Englishman has to say." "Quite right, gentlemen," said Togo. "I fully agree with you. I know something of the English; and even though Mr Swinburne may differ from us all, I'll warrant that he will not suggest any action that is not consonant with our honour, as seamen, or our loyalty to the Emperor. Pray proceed, Mr Swinburne." "Very well, then, Admiral, and gentlemen, since you do me the honour to insist, I will," said I. "But you must permit me to begin by reminding you that I am only a boy, and that this is my first experience of actual warfare; therefore if I venture to express an opinion on what has been justly described as a most momentous question, I do so with the utmost diffidence. At the same time, although I have had no previous experience of war, I should like to say that I have studied the subject deeply and with intense interest. And it is with equal interest that I have listened to the expression of your views on the question now under consideration. I am filled with admiration of the noble and patriotic sentiments which have to-day been spoken within the walls of this cabin--sentiments with which I most cordially agree, since they happen to accurately coincide with my own. "But, gentlemen, may I dare venture to remind you that patriotism and valour, splendid and admirable as they are, are not the only qualities that should distinguish the soldier or sailor who fights for his country? Inspired by them, a man may no doubt accomplish great things, wonderful things; but we Britons have a proverb which declares that discretion is the better part of valour, and in my humble opinion-- which, I repeat, I advance with the utmost diffidence--the present is one of those occasions when valour, as heroic and self-sacrificing as you will, should go hand in hand with discretion. "With your kind favour I will briefly mention the picture that arose in my mind while Prince Kasho was advocating the plan of taking the entire fleet into Port Arthur roadstead and engaging the Russians in a pitched battle. "I readily grant you that the information communicated to the Admiral by Hang-won seems to indicate that to-night, or the small hours of to-morrow morning, will afford a magnificent opportunity for such a _coup_; but--let us consider all the consequences which that _coup_ would entail. It may be that we should be able to take the Russians by surprise; it is exceedingly probable that some of the officers--perhaps a good many of them--will be ashore to-night; but, recognising the fact that Russia and Japan are at war, do you, gentlemen, as reasonable, sensible men, really believe for a moment that the Russian fleet will be left defenceless in an open roadstead, or that the vigilance of the lookouts will be relaxed? I do not. And, if not, the approach of such a formidable array as ours would assuredly be detected, and the alarm given, long before we could arrive within effective striking distance. Then what would be the ultimate result? I have not a doubt that we should be victorious, but at what cost? We must remember, gentlemen, that we should be not only engaging a fleet but slightly inferior in strength to our own, _but the batteries as well_; and it is in the batteries that our danger lies. I know not what the armament of those batteries may be, but I think we may safely assume that it will consist of weapons heavy enough to sink many of our ships while we are doing our best to sink theirs. With all submission, I think it would be the height of folly for us to assume that we could fight such a battle without serious loss to ourselves. And the point which I wish to emphasise is this: _How are we going to make good those losses_? The Russians can make good theirs by sending more ships out from Europe; but where are we to get more? I need not labour this question, gentlemen; I am sure you will all see what I mean, and therefore understand why I say that, altogether apart from the question of slavish obedience to orders, or otherwise, I think the Admiral is fully justified in his decision not to risk his ships in such an exceedingly hazardous enterprise." "Thank you, Mr Swinburne," said Togo, offering me his hand as I sat down. "You have spoken pretty much as I expected you would." Then, turning to one of the officers who had been busily writing all the time that I was speaking, he said: "Captain Matsumoto, am I correct in supposing that you have been taking down Mr Swinburne's remarks?" "Quite correct, sir," answered the skipper of the _Fuji_. "Then," said Togo, "do me the favour to read them over aloud, in Japanese, for the benefit of those officers who have been unable to closely follow Mr Swinburne's English." This was done; and when Matsumoto sat down there was silence for a few moments, succeeded by a faint murmur of applause. Then the Admiral rose. "Gentlemen," he said, "you have now all spoken; and I tender you my most hearty thanks for the frank expression of your several opinions. I have listened with the greatest interest and satisfaction to everything that has been said, but you must pardon me if I say at once, frankly, that you leave me as unconvinced as ever. Or, no; not unconvinced; on the contrary, I am more convinced than ever that, apart, as Mr Swinburne has remarked, from any question of slavish obedience to orders, I should be guilty of a serious, even disastrous, error of judgment, were I to take my battleships and cruisers into Port Arthur roads and give battle to the Russian fleet. The only alternative is to employ the destroyers; and I shall be glad of any suggestions you may be pleased to offer as to the best method of attack." Nobody spoke. It was easy to see that the officers of the battleships and cruisers, deeply imbued with the somewhat fantastic and high-flown ideas of the Japanese with regard to the almost divine virtue of heroism and self-sacrifice, were profoundly disappointed that they were not to be afforded an opportunity to display their possession of those virtues. "Has no one a suggestion to offer?" demanded Togo, in a tone of surprise. "What say you, Swinburne?" turning to me. "It would greatly help us, sir," I said, "if Hang-won could give us even an approximate idea of the position of the Russian ships in the roadstead." "You are right, sir; it would," answered the Admiral. And turning to the Chinaman, he addressed to him a question in what I imagined to be Chinese. The man was replying at some length when Togo interrupted him and turned to the skipper of the flagship. "Captain Ijichi," said he, "a chart of Port Arthur, if you please." The chart was brought, and Hang-won, after poring over it awhile, took a pencil and with meticulous care jotted down certain marks upon it. When he had finished, Togo turned to me and said: "Here we are, Mr Swinburne. These marks indicate the positions of some of the Russian ships, as nearly as Hang-won can remember them. As you see, they are moored in wedge-shaped formation, the point of the wedge to seaward; and that point is occupied by the _Tsarevich_, a battleship. Next her, inshore, comes the _Poltava_, also a battleship, then the _Sevastopol_, another battleship, and abreast of her, in the second line, the battleship _Pobieda_. Of the positions of these he is certain, he says, having taken particular notice of them as he came out; but of the rest he is not so sure, except that there are thirteen of them, exclusive of the _Askold_, all anchored inside the _Tsarevich_. The _Askold_ is a cruiser, and according to Hang-won she is performing patrol duty to and fro, outside the rest of the fleet. You will readily recognise her from the fact that she is the only craft with five funnels. "There is another point in favour of our employing destroyers. It appears that Admiral Stark sends out a destroyer flotilla every night to patrol the coast as far as Dalny--there it is, about twenty miles north-east of Port Arthur. If, upon approaching the roadstead, our boats show the lights usually exhibited by the Russian destroyers--a white light above a red--on their return from Dalny, they ought to be able to get right in among the Russian fleet and do a tremendous amount of damage before their identity is discovered, and I shall confidently look for important results accordingly. Now, gentlemen, I have my own idea as to how the attack should be conducted; but I have heard it said that in many councillors there is wisdom, therefore I should be glad to have your views on the subject." And, one after the other, the officers present gave them, the general opinion being that the destroyers ought to approach to within about five miles of the shore at a moderate speed, showing no lights; then dash in at top speed, discharging torpedoes right and left, and continue to do so, regardless of consequences, until every Russian ship was destroyed. Finally, I was called for to give my opinion; and again I found myself obliged to differ from the others. "If I were leading the attack, sir," I said, "I should time myself to arrive at about eleven o'clock, that being the time, I imagine, when the banquet and the special performance will both be at their height. At the distance of about five miles from the shore I should slow down, instead of increasing speed, because I should then have no fear of flames escaping from my funnels and so betraying my approach. I should then divide my force into two, one of which should sweep well away to the nor'ard, while the other sheered off toward the south, my object being to get my boats well into the concealment of the shadow of the high land east and west of the roadstead. Under the cover of this shadow I should creep close along shore until I was well inside the enemy's fleet, when I should wheel outward, get good way on my boats, and torpedo the enemy, ship after ship, as I came out. By this plan I should be heading seaward, ready to make good my escape as soon as the alarm was given, which I believe will be within a few seconds after the first torpedo is fired. Then I should run for it out to sea, at top speed; for I am convinced that, once the alarm is given and the searchlights are turned on, we shall be afforded no further opportunity to do mischief; and I see no sense in sacrificing ships and lives uselessly. I have heard the remark made, more than once, that it is a glorious thing to die for one's country and one's Emperor. So it is-- when the sacrifice of one's life is necessary to secure a certain object; but I maintain that it is still more glorious to _live_ for one's country. One live man can render more useful service to his country than a hundred dead ones." Again there was a little half-hearted murmur of applause. But Togo expressed his approval in no half-hearted manner. Dashing his fist upon the table he exclaimed: "By Hachiman Sama!" (the Japanese god of War), "you are right, Mr Swinburne. You told us, a little while ago, that you are only a boy, but you have the brains and wisdom of a man, sir. Your plan of attack is the right one--cannot you see that it is, gentlemen?--and it shall be followed. By attempting the other plan, we should in all probability lose every boat and every man, with no better result; while, by adopting Mr Swinburne's plan, we may save at least two-thirds of them. Now, gentlemen, before we terminate the council, has any one a better plan to propose?" And he glanced round the cabin, inquiringly. No one answered. Then Captain Matsumoto, commanding the battleship _Fuji_, rose. "As one whose knowledge of the august English language is perhaps superior to that of most present--your honourable self, sir, excepted," he said, addressing the Admiral, "I should like to say that I have listened to the remarks of the honourable commander of the _Kasanumi_ with profound interest. His doctrine, that it is more glorious to live than to die for one's Emperor, is a new one to us Japanese, and I confess that for the moment it shocked me, as I saw that it shocked most of us. But, if one comes to reflect, one sees that there is sound sense in it; therefore I should like to record my entire approval of the projected plan of attack upon the enemy's fleet. For, by adopting it, there is a good prospect that many lives and many craft, which would otherwise be uselessly sacrificed, may be preserved to render further valuable service to Japan and its Emperor." The applause this time was real and hearty enough, and several of the officers who were sitting near me offered me their hands and smilingly complimented me. "Very well, then, gentlemen, that matter is settled, and most satisfactorily, too, in my humble opinion. And, now, as to details. Divisions 1, 2, and 3 of the destroyer flotilla will attack the fleet at Port Arthur; Divisions 4 and 5 will proceed to Dalny in quest of the Russian destroyers said to reconnoitre in that direction nightly; and all will inflict as much damage as possible upon the enemy. Captain Matsunaga of the _Asashio_ will command Divisions 1, 2, and 3; while Captain Nagai will command Divisions 4 and 5. The flotilla will start at five o'clock this evening. You are dismissed, gentlemen. I thank you for your honourable attendance, and the assistance which you have rendered me." CHAPTER FIVE. MY "BAPTISM OF FIRE." The weather had cleared somewhat during the afternoon, but when, at a few minutes before five o'clock, the _Mikasa_ made the signal for the destroyer flotilla to weigh and proceed, the clouds had gathered afresh, and it was looking as wild as ever. It was exactly five o'clock when the _Asashio_, followed by the _Kasanumi_, led the way out to sea; and as we began to move, the Admiral signalled us: "Go in and sink the enemy's fleet. I pray for your success." The Elliot group of islands, from which we started upon our great adventure, is situated some sixty miles north-east of Port Arthur, and within some seven or eight miles of the mainland. Our nearest and best way, therefore, under ordinary circumstances, would have been to creep down the coast close inshore. But this would have involved our passing Dalny on the way, and there were the Russian destroyers, which were said to patrol as far as that place every night, to be reckoned with. We did not desire to encounter them on the way, and so afford them a chance to slip back to Port Arthur and give the alarm; our object was to get in between them and Port Arthur, and so cut off their retreat. Also, we had decided to approach Port Arthur from the south-west, so as to give the idea that we were the Russian boats returning after a scouting excursion in the offing; we therefore headed due south at the start, our speed being fifteen knots, which was later increased to twenty-two, as the course which we had decided upon took us far out of our way and nearly doubled the distance to be run. The sun disappeared beneath the horizon in a heavy squall of rain, the wind breezed up fiercely, and it was piercingly cold. The night shut down upon us dark as a wolf's mouth, the only relief to the intense blackness being the phosphorescence of the bow wave as it swept, roaring and scintillating away to port and starboard, and the faint gleam of a shrouded lamp which each vessel bore at her taffrail as a guide to the craft next astern of her. Well, so much the better; the darker the night, the better for our purpose; only I fervently wished that the water had not been so brilliantly phosphorescent, for in the intense darkness the gleam of it was visible for quite a considerable distance, and I feared that, if the Russians were keeping a sharp lookout, it would prematurely reveal our approach. We had cleared for action before getting under way, and each boat carried two torpedoes in her tubes, her guns loaded, and ammunition ready to pass up on deck at a moment's notice. Hour after hour we steamed on, describing the arc of a big semi-circle as we altered our course from time to time, until at length we were heading west-nor'-west for Port Arthur; and during the whole time we had not sighted a craft of any description. At length, about half-past ten, the darkness ahead seemed to grow blacker than ever, and turning to Ito, who stood beside me on the bridge, I said: "Do you see that darkness ahead, Ito? Surely that is the loom of land." "Yes," answered Ito, who spoke English excellently. "Without a doubt that is the high land on either side of Port Arthur; and--ha! there is the Pinnacle Rock light, straight ahead. By Jingo! as the honourable English say, Captain Matsunaga has `hit it off splendidly.' And see there,"--as a light began to wink at us from the bridge of the _Asashio_ ahead--"there is the signal for the 4th and 5th Divisions to part company. Yes; there they go; and now, as again the honourable English say, `we shan't be long.'" I shivered involuntarily. A quarter of an hour more and that blackness ahead would be pierced by the blinding rays of the inexorable searchlights and stabbed by the fierce flashing of artillery, the glare of bursting shells, and the radiance of star rockets. And we should be in the midst of it. It would be my first experience of actual warfare, and I wondered how I should pass through the ordeal. I had already learned that the Japanese soldier or sailor is absolutely the most fearless creature in existence. He fears death as little as he fears sleep, provided that it comes to him in the service of his Emperor and his country. To die for his Emperor, indeed, who is to him as a god, is the very highest honour, the greatest glory, that the male Japanese can look forward to. He faces such a death with the same pure joy, the same exaltation, that the early Christian martyrs displayed when they were led forth to die for their faith. It was this spirit, this eagerness, this enthusiasm to die in battle, that caused the enormous losses suffered by the Japanese during the war; but it made them invincible! How was my conduct going to compare with that of men like these, I who was animated by no more lofty sentiment than the desire to do my duty to the best of my ability, to play my part as a man should, and, above all, to uphold the honour and dignity of my race? I was happy in the conviction that I should not disgrace myself by any exhibition of craven fear, but what I dreaded was that in the excitement of the moment I should get "nervy," lose my head (if only figuratively), and perhaps forget to do something that I ought to do, to miss some opportunity that I ought to see and seize. "Brace up, Paul!" I said to myself, "pull yourself together for the honour of the dear homeland; forget all about yourself, and think only of the work that lies before you." And I did. My thoughts went back to my talk with the Admiral in the _Mikasa's_ cabin that afternoon; I suddenly remembered that the work in hand was to be carried out as I had planned it; and in a moment all my anxiety vanished, I was my own man again, mentally planning what I would do; and from that moment I felt as cool and collected and keen as was Ito who stood beside me. As the tail lights of the 4th and 5th Divisions of the flotilla vanished in the darkness on our port quarter, the _Asashio's_ signal lantern began winking again, and Ito read off and translated the message to me: "Reduce speed to twelve knots. Be ready to show signal lanterns if required. When I starboard helm, Division one will follow me, while Divisions two and three will port helm and sheer off to the eastward." A single flash from our own carefully shrouded signal lanterns informed the Commodore that the message had been read and understood, and all was opaque darkness once more. The rain had by this time cleared off and the atmosphere was much clearer, so clear indeed that the outlines of the hills ahead showed with tolerable distinctness, and the water was getting smoother. The lighthouse light was showing very bright and clear by this time, and two or three other and much dimmer lights, like those of houses, showed here and there in the shadow of the hills. The gap between the hills which marked the harbour entrance was also visible, while a faint glare in the sky to the right of it showed that Port Arthur was still awake. But everything seemed absolutely peaceful, and there were no signs of that alertness which we had expected to find. Suddenly the lighthouse light, upon which my gaze happened to be fixed, seemed to blink several times in a very curious manner; then it disappeared altogether for a moment, and I saw a great black shadow that seemed to rapidly increase in size as I stared at it. Then I glimpsed at the base of the shadow the ghostly gleam of phosphorescent foam, such as is piled up by the bows of a ship travelling at speed, and high above it a rolling, swirling cloud of blackness spangled with evanescent sparks which, a moment later, I saw was issuing from three of a group of five tall funnels. "By Jove! Ito," I exclaimed, "here comes the patrol cruiser--the _Askold_--and she is heading straight for us! Gun and tube crews, stand by! Quartermaster, light those two signal lanterns, white above red, bend them on to the signal halliards, and stand by to hoist away when I give the word." "Yes," agreed Ito, his voice tense with excitement; "she has seen and intends to speak us. See, she has stopped her engines, and is hailing the _Asashio_! What a jolly, bloomin' chance," (Ito was very proud of his command of English slang, and availed himself of every possible opportunity to air it) "to honourably torpedo her! Will the honourable Swinburne augustly grant the humblest of his servants permission to do so?" "Heavens! no, man," I exclaimed, "not for worlds. And I pray that Matsunaga may also have the sense to refrain from doing so." "But why, my honourable friend; why?" demanded Ito, literally dancing with eagerness and impatience. "Because, don't you see, my honourable duffer, that if we did so the explosion would put all Port Arthur, and the fleet too, on the _qui vive_ long before we could get at them, and thus spoil our chances of bagging the battleships?" I replied. "No, certainly not. Let the cruiser go; it is the battleships we want. There go the _Asashio's_ lanterns. Hoist away, quartermaster!" "Yes, yes; I see," replied Ito in crestfallen tones; "you are honourably right, of course. Aha! there goes the cruiser. The honourable Captain Matsunaga has evidently honourably satisfied her. He honourably speaks Russian like a native." It was an exciting moment; but, tense as it was, I could not help being amused at the pertinacity with which Ito, like all the Japanese, dragged in the word "honourable" upon every possible and impossible occasion. It arises, of course, out of the desire, drilled into them, generation after generation, to be extremely polite; and doubtless when speaking in their own tongue, the word is never unsuitably used; but when they undertake to talk English, it is frequently pitchforked into the conversation in the most incongruous and even ludicrous fashion, and I decided that it would only be kind to give Ito a lesson upon the absurdity of employing it inappropriately. The opportunity came a few minutes later. The _Askold_, apparently satisfied with Captain Matsunaga's explanation, put her helm hard a-starboard and swept on, presently vanishing in the darkness; and a minute or two later the _Asashio_ made the signal for the Divisions to separate as arranged, starboarding her helm as she did so and leading Number 1 Division to the westward, while Divisions 2 and 3 ported and swerved sharply away to the eastward. "The critical moment is at hand," said I. "Be so good, Mr Ito, as to go down on the main deck and assure yourself that everything is ready, and that the men are standing by the tubes and guns." Then Ito turned upon me and poured out an impassioned entreaty that he might be "honourably" permitted to take charge of and fire the torpedoes himself. I considered for a moment. The man who might chance to score a hit in the coming attempt would gain immense kudos, I knew, and, in all probability, promotion also. By rights, of course, Ito's station should be by me, to take my place should I chance to be hit; but he was just as liable to be hit on the bridge as anywhere else; also it would be doing him a kindness to grant his request. So: "Now, look here, Ito," I said, "it is of paramount importance that the men in charge of the tubes to-night should be first-rate shots, and as cool as cucumbers; for, hit or miss, I do not suppose we shall be afforded a chance to discharge more than the two torpedoes already in our tubes; therefore they must both hit. Now, are you a good shot with the torpedo?" Ito solemnly assured me that there was not a better torpedo shot than himself in the whole Japanese fleet. "And is your nerve all right? I mean, are you perfectly cool?" I demanded. "As cool as the honourable cucumber," he asserted. "Feel my unworthy hand." I could not help laughing. Here was the inevitable "honourable" being dragged in again. I seized his hand and held it loosely in mine for a few seconds. It was firm and steady as a rock. "Good!" I said. "You will do, Ito. Go down and work the tubes, my boy, and see that you excel yourself to-night. And, Ito, if you love me, do not, for heaven's sake, forget to withdraw the honourable safety pin from the honourable fan before you honourably fire the honourable torpedo, or you will make no honourable hits this honourable night. Do you honourably take me?" There! I had fired off my little joke on Ito; illustrated to him, I fondly thought, the absurdity of indiscriminately dragging in the word "honourable" in and out of season. How would he take it, I wondered. "The august captain may honourably rely upon his unworthy lieutenant to do his honourable best," he gravely answered; and the next moment was "honourably" descending the bridge ladder to the deck. My miserable attempt at jocularity had absolutely missed fire; the dear, innocent fellow had accepted my speech as uttered in all seriousness. It was at this moment that I first caught the loom of the Russian ships, showing up a deeper black against the black shadow of the frowning cliffs away to starboard; and a second or two later a long, brilliant beam of intensely white light shot out from one of the black shapes and slowly swept hither and thither, now striking the heaving surface of the black water, and anon vividly illumining one of her sisters. Our orders had been not to discharge at a higher range than five hundred metres. Slowly, the beam swept round toward us until it halted and rested steadily upon a great lump of a craft that towered out of the water like a castle, almost immediately between itself and us. Luckily, the dazzling light itself was hidden from our eyes by the bulk of the ship upon which it rested, but it invested her with a sort of halo of radiance against which she stood out black and grim, a perfect silhouette. She was a big craft, evidently a battleship, with a lofty superstructure, three big funnels cased half-way up, a long overhanging bridge, and two stout military masts with fighting tops, and two yards across each. She was just within range, and, seizing a megaphone, I was in the act of raising it to my lips to order Ito to let fly at her, when I saw a long, silvery shape flash out from our after-deck, and a few seconds later a great cone of water leaped into the air and fell like a deluge upon the great ship, which seemed to lift half out of the water, as though hove up by a giant. A heavy _boom_ followed, and I had the extreme gratification of knowing that the little _Kasanumi's_ first Whitehead had got home. The explosion was quickly followed by several others; and in the midst of them a sudden transformation took place. The pitchy darkness gave way to the glare of a perfect network of searchlight beams streaming out from ship after ship and from the cliffs above, sweeping here, there, and everywhere, lighting up the fleet, the cliffs, the channel leading to the harbour, the lighthouse, everything, in fact, except our destroyers, which they all seemed to miss in the most miraculous way. Excited shouts came pealing across the water to us from the decks of the various ships, boatswains' whistles shrilled, order after order was hoarsely bellowed, and with a rattling crash of gun-fire a perfect tempest of projectiles was sent hurtling out to sea from the now thoroughly awakened and panic-stricken Russians, not a solitary shot of which came anywhere near us; for the enemy seemed to have not the slightest idea of our actual whereabouts. And then, to add to the turmoil and confusion, the forts on the cliffs above opened fire with their heavy guns, and we heard the shells go muttering angrily far overhead, as the gunners ashore also fired into the offing. The fleet as a whole now lay broad on our starboard beam, and we in the _Kasanumi_ were crossing the bows of a two-funnelled battleship which, from her position as the outermost ship of the fleet, I knew must be the _Tzarevich_, when, out of the tail of my eye, so to speak, I again caught the flash of one of our Whiteheads as it leapt outward and plunged into the sea. Breathlessly I awaited the result, and presently, to my delight, I saw that our second torpedo had got home! "Good old Ito!" I exclaimed aloud; and, as I spoke, the man himself stood beside me. "Two hits!" he gasped, almost inarticulate with excitement and delight. "The _Kasanumi_ has done her duty to-night." "She has," I agreed; "and so have you, splendidly, old chap. This means immediate promotion for you, Ito; for you may rest assured that, if we get out of this alive, I will not fail to report to the Admiral what you have done. I don't see--" "Ah, but," he interrupted me, "the real credit of it all belongs to you, not me. For if you had not warned me, I should certainly, in my excitement, have forgotten to withdraw the pins before firing the torpedoes. As it was, I very nearly did so when firing the first, but luckily your warning flashed into my mind at the very instant when I was about to fire. I am afraid that many of our men have forgotten that essential; for although all the torpedoes must be by this time discharged, I do not think that many ships have been hit." I had noticed the same thing myself, and was about to say so, but at this moment the Russian ships opened fire with their heavy guns, and conversation, which up to now had been difficult enough, became quite impossible owing to the deafening din. But I observed that the ships and batteries were all firing out to sea, whereas our destroyers were by this time between the fleet and the land, completely absorbed in the deep shadow of the lofty cliffs, so that up to that moment I believed we had remained unseen. Then the _Asashio_ flashed the signal for Number 1 Division to retire at full speed, putting her helm hard a-port as she did so, for by this time we were running parallel with the shore on the west side of the harbour, and a few minutes more would have taken us to the harbour's mouth, which was now brilliantly illuminated by the rays of some half a dozen searchlights, which it was essential for us to avoid if we wished to escape instant annihilation. It was at this moment, when I was eagerly taking note of the most distinctive features of the harbour entrance, brought thus prominently into view--with the idea that such knowledge as I might then be able to acquire might prove useful at some future time--that three destroyers, coming out of the harbour at full speed, rushed across the illuminated area and, turning sharp round the Pinnacle Rock, headed almost directly toward us. A single glance sufficed to show that they were Russian craft, for they were of a different model from ours, and their four funnels were arranged differently from ours, being in pairs. For a moment I believed that they saw and were about to engage us, I therefore laid my hand upon Ito's arm to attract his attention, pointed to the boats, and then yelled in his ear: "Russians! Stand by to give them a broadside as they pass." Ito nodded comprehendingly, and vanished from my side. A minute later, the leading Russian destroyer came abreast the _Asashio_, and Captain Matsunaga showed that he was as wideawake as the rest of us, by plumping a 12-pound and three 6-pound shells into her. Then came our turn, and we did the same, each of the four Japanese boats in turn firing all the guns that would bear upon each of the three Russian boats as they came up, without receiving a single shot in return; for, strange as it may seem, the Russians appeared to have no suspicion of our whereabouts until we actually fired upon them. But perhaps we should have been wiser had we allowed our valour to be tempered with discretion, and refrained from attacking the enemy's destroyers; for the flashes of our guns, low down near the surface of the water, were instantly observed by a hundred sharp eyes, eagerly seeking the whereabouts of the elusive enemy, and almost immediately every searchlight on ship and shore swept round until it rested full upon us, thereafter inexorably following our every movement, while a perfect tornado of shell and rifle-fire hissed and whined about our ears. But for this, it might have been not very difficult for us to have inflicted further damage upon the battleships and cruisers; but as it was, there was only one thing to be done, namely, to effect our escape with the utmost expedition, if, indeed, escape were still possible; for to remain until fresh torpedoes could be got up on deck and placed in the tubes, would mean our swift and certain destruction before the opportunity came for us to work further mischief. As it was, it was simply miraculous that we were not instantly blown out of the water; for, with a dozen or more searchlights bearing full upon us, we were as plainly visible as though it had been broad daylight; yet, strange to say, not a shot struck any of us, a circumstance which can only be accounted for upon the assumption that the Russian gunners were so unnerved by our sudden and unexpected attack that, for the moment, they had completely lost the ability to shoot straight. Through that frightful tempest of shot and shell we tore at top speed, the fragile hulls of the boats bucking and quivering to the impulse of their tremendously powerful engines, the water cleft by their sharp bows curling almost to the height of the navigating bridges and drenching the occupants with spray, while flames roared out of all four of their funnels as the stokers below toiled like fiends to feed the furnaces and maintain a full head of steam. To add to our difficulties, the glare of so many searchlights directed full upon us dazzled our sight to blinding point, so that it was only with the greatest difficulty we were able to find our way. The formation in which the Russian fleet was moored helped us, however, for we presently found ourselves rushing across the bows of their weathermost line, and we steered accordingly. Then, quite unexpectedly, we came upon the three Russian destroyers again; and those of us who happened to be prepared--of which the _Kasanumi_ was one--gave them a further peppering, to which, as before, they made no reply. And now, at last, we were reaching the end of the line, and the gauntlet was almost run, for as we drew out to seaward the inshore ships were compelled to cease fire for fear of hurting their friends instead of us. There was but one more ship to pass; and as we drew near to her I saw that she had a decided list to port, and was floating so deep aft that her "admirals' walk," or stern gallery, was very nearly submerged. Steam was roaring from her safety valves, and as we came up to her a small curl of water under her bows and a swirl at her stern showed that she was under way. It was the _Tsarevich_, heading for the harbour, evidently in a sinking condition, and we had the satisfaction of knowing that by that night's work we had put at least one of the Russian battleships _hors de combat_. Her crew were much too busy to pay any attention to us; and a quarter of an hour later we were beyond the zone of that awful, merciless fire, and were heading south-east for Mokpo, where we had been ordered to rendezvous. We did not, of course, at that time know the extent of the damage that we had succeeded in inflicting upon the Russian fleet; but trustworthy information reached us later, that the _Tsarevich_ had been struck aft, the torpedo blowing a big hole in her hull and flooding her steering compartment to such an extent that her captain had been obliged to beach her to prevent her from sinking. The _Retvisan_ had been struck amidships, and a large hole blown in her pump compartment, rendering it necessary that she also should be beached in order to save her. Those two battleships constituted the _Kasanumi's_ share of the bag; and very pleased we were with ourselves when the news became known, since those two ships were far and away the best in the Russian fleet, and the loss of them, even if it should prove to be only temporary, was a very serious matter for the Russians. But, in addition to these, the _Pallada_, cruiser, and the volunteer cruiser _Angara_ were also hit, and were obliged to be beached to save them from foundering. Thus we had done not at all badly; although some surprise was felt that, considering the favourable circumstances under which the attack was made--by which I mean our unsuspected approach, and the time which elapsed before the searchlights actually found us--we had not done a great deal more. For Divisions 1, 2, and 3, which had attacked the Russian fleet, consisted in all of ten destroyers, each of which had discharged two torpedoes--twenty in all. And of those twenty, only four, apparently, had got home. It was not a result to be proud of. But I had a suspicion that I could have put my finger upon the explanation, had I been asked to do so; and it would have been this: The night was bitterly cold; so cold, indeed, that the spray froze as it fell upon us, and the weather was simply atrocious; the result being that by the time the flotilla arrived in Port Arthur roadstead, the limit of even Japanese physical endurance had been almost, if not quite, reached. Most of our deck hands had been more or less severely frost-bitten, not only their bodies, but also their minds were benumbed by the arctic severity of the weather, and thus it came to pass (at least so I reasoned it out) that when the moment for action arrived their faculties, between physical suffering and mental excitement, became so confused that many of them made the mistake against which I had warned Ito, and failed to withdraw the safety pin before discharging their torpedoes, thus rendering the missiles ineffective. This was also Ito's opinion, you will remember. By the time that we reached Mokpo we were all in a most deplorable condition, nearly half of the deck hands of the expedition being compelled to go into hospital suffering from frost-bite, a few of the cases being of so severe a character that the patients lost either their hands or their feet, while one man lost all four members, and narrowly escaped dying outright. Ito and I were somehow lucky enough to escape without serious injury, but we both developed virulent attacks of inflammation of the lungs, which put us _hors de combat_ for nearly three weeks. But there is no doubt that our recovery was greatly facilitated by the intimation, which reached us while we were still in hospital, that we had both been promoted to the rank of Commander. Meanwhile, things had been happening at Port Arthur and elsewhere. On the morning following our attack, Togo sent three fast cruisers in toward the fortress to reconnoitre; and these ships having discovered pretty much how matters stood there, and reported to the Admiral, the whole fleet stood in and engaged the ships and batteries at long-range, firing only their 12-inch and 8-inch guns, the range being too long for the others. The weather had changed, and was now bright and comparatively warm, the atmosphere so clear that even comparatively small objects were clearly visible. The _Mikasa_ opened the ball by firing a sighting shot from one of the 12-inch guns in her fore barbette, and at the same moment the Russian ships were seen to be getting under way. At low speed the Japanese fleet steamed past the port in "line ahead," firing as they went, and after an engagement lasting some forty minutes, drew off, hoping that the Russian fleet would follow them, but in this they were disappointed. Our ships were hit several times and sustained a certain amount of damage, but, luckily, not of a serious character. It was reported that we lost four killed and fifty-four wounded, none of the wounds being serious enough, however, to necessitate the men being sent ashore to the hospital. It was some time before reliable information reached us as to the extent of the damage sustained by the Russians, but when it came it was to the effect that several of our shells fell in the town, scattering the piles of coal on the wharves and creating general panic; the _Poltava_ was so badly hit that she could not move, a shell blowing her bows open; the _Petropavlosk_ and _Pobieda_ were also hit, though not seriously; our old friend, the _Askold_, was hit on the waterline and set on fire, as was also the _Diana_; while the _Novik_, which had steamed out toward our fleet, was sent flying back with her rudder damaged, so that they had to steer her with her propellers. This affair caused Admiral Stark to be superseded; his successor being Admiral Makarov, said to be the finest seaman Russia then possessed. At the same time General Kuropatkin was appointed commander of the Russian land forces. Two days later, the Russians lost the mine-layer _Yenesei_ in Dalny Bay. This was a particularly hard bit of luck for them, inasmuch as that she had practically completed her work when the disaster happened. Her mission was to sow Dalny Bay with four hundred contact mines, in order to prevent the Japanese from using the bay as a landing-place for troops. She had successfully laid all but two of the four hundred mines; but when the three hundred and ninety-ninth mine was launched overboard, it floated, instead of sinking to its prescribed depth. The captain of the ship is said to have opened fire upon it with his light guns, to explode it; and in this he appears to have been only too successful, since it not only exploded but also blew up the ship, which sank almost immediately, most of her crew going down with her. And on the following day the small cruiser _Boyarin_ went ashore in Dalny Bay, and became a total wreck. Thus in less than a week the Port Arthur fleet had become reduced in strength by no less than three battleships, five cruisers, and one mining ship, exclusive of the cruiser _Variag_ and the gunboat _Korietz_, destroyed at Chemulpo. Encouraged by the success of the first destroyer attack upon Port Arthur, Admiral Togo arranged for a repetition of the experiment on the night of 13th February, and the attempt duly came off, the 4th and 5th Divisions of the destroyer flotilla being this time told off to conduct the attack. These divisions, consisting of eight boats, had not participated in the previous attack, and Togo no doubt wished to give them an opportunity to acquire _kudos_, and, at the same time, by arousing their emulation, spur them on to outvie our performance. Unfortunately, however, for the expedition, the weather was even worse than that with which we had had to contend: the cold was intense, a gale was blowing, a tremendously heavy sea was running, and, to cap it all, a terrific snow blizzard was raging. The result of this combination of adverse conditions was that the destroyers very soon lost touch with each other, and only two of them succeeded in entering the harbour, the _Asigiri_ preceding the _Hayatori_ by nearly two hours. The _Asigiri_ entered the harbour unseen, discharged two torpedoes--both of which her captain, Commander Isakawa, believed had got home--and then fled, encountering an enemy's launch on the way, and sinking her. The explosion of the _Asigiri's_ torpedoes of course raised an alarm, searchlights flashed wildly hither and thither, gunners blazed away madly, and so great was the panic that several of the Russian destroyers opened fire upon each other and did a lot of damage. When Commander Takanouchi, in the _Hayatori_, arrived two hours later, the confusion was still at its height, and taking advantage of it, he, too, slipped in unnoticed and, as he believed, successfully torpedoed a cruiser before he fled. But it seemed very doubtful whether, after all, either of the Japanese boats did much damage; for when the Japanese cruisers reconnoitred next day, none could be detected. Then, on the night of 23rd February, all the Russian ships being inside Port Arthur, Togo sent in five steamers, under Commander Arima, whose instructions were that they were to be sunk across the harbour entrance, in such positions as would effectually block the passage. But their approach was prematurely discovered, and so terrific a fire was opened upon them from the batteries that two were sunk, while the other three, their steering gear being shot away, went ashore outside. The attempt was consequently a failure, while ten men lost their lives in making it. On the night of 24th February and the morning of the following day, the Japanese fleet made a second attack upon Port Arthur, bombarding the town and fleet for twenty-five minutes. The Russian cruisers _Bayan, Novik_, and _Askold_ were hit, some shells exploded in the batteries, and the town was set on fire in two places, but the damage done was inconsiderable; and at length, in accordance with his instructions to on no account risk his battleships by engaging the forts, Togo felt himself obliged to retire. CHAPTER SIX. "SEALING UP" PORT ARTHUR. Our gallant and indefatigable little Admiral seemed to spend all his spare time in scheming out plans for the discomfiture of the enemy; and about this time he evolved one which seemed to possess all the elements of a brilliant success. Knowing that Russian spies swarmed everywhere, he prepared an elaborate scheme to sow Port Arthur roadstead, in front of the harbour entrance, with electro-mechanical mines, with the ostensible object of preventing the Russian fleet from coming out. These mines were stated to be of a peculiarly dangerous and deadly character, invented by Captain Odo. With great ingenuity the details of the scheme were permitted to gradually leak out, so that in due time they came into the knowledge of the Russian spies and were promptly transmitted to Port Arthur. As a matter of fact, however, the mines which were proposed to be, and actually were, sown, were of a very innocuous character, Togo's object being to imbue the Russian mind with the idea that the Japanese mines were so useless that they might be safely disregarded. Then, when this object had been achieved, genuine Odo mines would be sown, with disastrous results to such Russian ships as might chance to run foul of them. The task of sowing the innocuous mines was entrusted to two divisions of destroyers, consisting of five craft; the first division being composed of the _Asashio, Kasanumi_, and _Akatsuki_, while the _Akebono_ and _Sazanami_ constituted the second division. Ito and I had both happily recovered from our indisposition by this time, and were able to rejoin the fleet in time to participate in the projected operation. Although promoted to the rank of Commander, I was left in command of the _Kasanumi_; but Ito got a step up the ratlines, being given the command of the _Akatsuki_, while a youngster named Hiraoka was given me in his place. On 9th March we were busy all day shipping our harmless mines; and at eight o'clock in the evening we weighed and, under easy steam, proceeded from our base at the Elliot Islands, bound for Port Arthur roadstead, accompanied by the fast cruiser squadron, the duty of which was to support us in the event of our being attacked, and cover our escape. By 11:30 p.m. we were within ten miles of the roadstead; and at this point we parted company with the cruisers, who now hove-to for half an hour, to allow us time to reach our destination. At the expiration of that time, a light or two were "accidentally" revealed on board the cruisers for a few seconds, just long enough to give the Port Arthur lookouts an opportunity to detect them, when they were extinguished. But the ruse was successful, the attention of the lookouts had been attracted, and instantly the searchlights from the station on the cliff to the eastward of the harbour were turned upon the cruisers and kept steadily bearing upon them. They were, of course, so far away that they were only dimly descried, and too far distant to make it worth while to open fire upon them, but their movements were--of set purpose--of so suspicious a character that, having once detected them, the Russians were determined not to lose sight of them again. The attention of the lookouts having thus been attracted to our cruisers in the offing, we in the destroyers were able to slip into the roadstead undetected. Arrived there, we lost no time in sowing our mine-field right athwart the harbour's mouth, and, had we been so minded, could have finished our work and retired before daylight. But to render the Admiral's scheme successful, it was necessary that we should be seen, and the nature of our work recognised; the 2nd Division therefore reserved a few mines to be dropped after daylight, and when that came they were at once discovered dropping mines, in a state of apparently feverish haste. The forts, of course, at once opened fire upon them; but before they could get the range, our destroyers launched their remaining mines overboard, and took to their heels, their task being accomplished. And now, all that remained was to patiently await the course of events, and thus see how far this part of Togo's plan had been successful. The game, however, was not yet finished. While we had been busily dropping our mines, what I thought a rather brilliant idea had occurred to me; and, ceasing work for a while, I steamed up alongside the _Akebono_, of our 2nd Division, and imparted my idea to Commander Tsuchiya, who was pleased to very heartily approve of it. In accordance with my scheme, therefore, the 1st Destroyer Division completed its task before daylight, and quietly steamed off round to the westward of Liau-ti-shan, where we remained snugly concealed, close in under the cliffs. My idea was that if our 2nd Division were discovered--as it was necessary it should be, the Russians would probably send out a few destroyers to attack it; and the event proved that my surmise was correct. Six Russian destroyers were dispatched from the harbour, presumably with instructions to wipe the _Akebono_ and _Sazanami_ off the face of the waters; and as soon as the latter saw the enemy approaching, on a course intended to cut off their retreat to the eastward, the two boats swerved sharply away to the westward, with their funnels belching great clouds of smoke, and every indication that their crews were in a terrible state of fright--but with their engines working at only about three-quarter speed. The Russians, stimulated by our 2nd Division's apparent terror, and finding also that they were steadily gaining upon the chase, strained every nerve to overtake them, and at length came pounding round the point in great style. Meanwhile, the two retreating Japanese destroyers had already swept past us--thus giving us the signal to be on the lookout--and, veering round, in a wide semi-circle, formed up in our rear, we of the 1st Division having already started our engines as soon as they hove in sight. On came the Russian destroyers, rolling and pitching on the long swell, with the water spouting and curling under their sharp bows to the height of their bridges; and the moment that the first of them swung round the point, over went the indicators of our engine-room telegraphs to "Full speed ahead!" Our gun crews had been standing to their guns for some time past, all ready for action, and as we swept out to seaward, crossing the Russians' bows, we let fly at them with our twelve-pounders and as many of our six-pounders as could be brought to bear, concentrating our fire as much as possible upon the enemy's guns, several of which we succeeded in dismounting. I feel bound to admit that, taken by surprise though they were, the Russians put up a splendid fight; but although they were superior to us in numbers, our men would not be denied, they worked their guns as coolly and with as deadly precision as though they had been at target practice, and the Russian boats were hulled again and again, clouds of steam arose from them, fires broke out aboard some of them, and so closely were we engaged that we could occasionally hear the cries of the wounded that arose as our shot swept their decks. The fight, which was a very hot one, lasted some twenty minutes, by which time the Russians had managed to get back round the point and under the cover of the batteries. We followed them to the very mouth of the harbour, fighting every inch of the way, but, at length, with heavy shells falling all round us, in some cases dropping so close that our decks were drenched with spray, it became imperative for us to be off, and we accordingly ported our helms and made off, followed by salvos of shot, big and small, until we were out of range. Then we slowed down our engines and proceeded to take stock of our injuries. So far as the _Kasanumi_ was concerned, we had got off pretty lightly, although there was a period of about three minutes when we were hotly engaged by two Russian destroyers at the same time. Our decks were rather severely scored by flying fragments of shells, we had three shot-holes in our hull, we had one man killed and two wounded, one of them being our chief engineer, who, although severely wounded by a fragment of a shell which burst in the engine-room, gallantly stuck to his post until the fight was over, when he was able to turn the engines over to his second. The _Akatsuki_ had received the severest punishment, one of her steam pipes being severed, and four of her engine-room hands scalded to death. In all, we lost in this fight seven killed and eight wounded; but none of the boats was very seriously damaged. Meanwhile, our 2nd Division, consisting of the _Akebono_ and _Sazanami_, had vanished, without leaving a sign of their whereabouts. It was now daylight, and the weather tolerably clear, yet, although Hiraoka and I swept the whole surface of the sea with our glasses, we entirely failed to pick them up. The _Asashio_ and _Akatsuki_ were within hail, both of them engaged, like ourselves, in temporarily patching up the holes in their thin steel sides, through which the water was pouring in whenever we rolled extra heavily; and I hailed them both, inquiring whether either of them had seen anything of the missing craft. An affirmative reply came from my friend Ito, aboard the _Akatsuki_, who informed me that shortly after the fight began, on the other side of the promontory, he had momentarily caught sight of them both, steaming hot-foot after a destroyer which was in full flight, heading toward Pigeon Bay. Scarcely had this reply been given when the sounds of light gun-fire faintly reached our ears from the direction mentioned, and a few minutes later two destroyers, flying the Russian flag, came foaming round the point, firing as they came, while close behind them appeared our two missing boats, also firing for all they were worth. The Russian boats were running in "line ahead," and it seemed to me that the skipper of the leading boat was manoeuvring her in such a manner as to keep his consort as nearly as possible between himself and the pursuers; at all events the sternmost boat seemed to be getting the biggest share of the pursuers' fire. At once I shouted an order for the men engaged upon our repairs to hasten their work and bring it to some sort of finish, at the same time signing the quartermaster to put his helm hard over, my intention of course being to go back and render such assistance as might be required, while the _Asashio_ kept on and stood by Ito, who had his hands full with his severed steam pipe. But it was impossible for us now to steam at a greater speed than about three knots, for had we attempted to do so, we should have washed overboard the men who were making the repairs, as well as washed the repairs themselves away, in their uncompleted state; consequently, long before we could get near the scene of action, the fight was over. One of the destroyers--the leading one--managed to get safely into the harbour, while the other, which turned out to be the _Stercguschtchi_, riddled with shells, lost speed to such an extent that at length the _Sazanami_ was able to run alongside and throw a boarding party upon her deck. They found that deck a veritable shambles, no less than thirty dead being counted upon it. Naturally, they took the craft without any resistance worth mentioning, for there were very few left to resist, while, of those who remained, the greater number jumped overboard rather than surrender. Of these, only two were picked up, while two others, too badly wounded to either fight or take to the water, surrendered. At once the _Sazanami_ took her prize in tow; but the craft was so seriously damaged that, despite all efforts to save her, she rapidly filled and sank, the towing hawser parting as she foundered. Meanwhile the _Akebono_ was in a somewhat parlous condition, for during the fight she had been struck on the waterline, and was now limping along as best she could, with two compartments filled; when, therefore, the Russian boat foundered, the _Sazanami_ went to her consort's assistance and took her in tow, for two Russian cruisers, identified as the _Novik_ and _Bayan_, were now seen to be coming out of Port Arthur harbour, and it was high time for us all to be off. Happily for us, by the time that the Russian cruisers were fairly out of harbour, five of our own cruisers had hove up above the horizon, steaming rapidly shoreward to our support, whereupon the Russians turned tail and retreated. As our cruisers came up, their flagship signalled us to proceed to our rendezvous, after ascertaining that we could look after ourselves and needed no assistance; and shortly afterward we fell in with our main fleet, under Togo, bound for Pigeon Bay, whither the Admiral was proceeding for the purpose of testing his theory that the fortress could be successfully bombarded by high-angle fire projected over the high land between Pigeon Bay and the town. The signal was made for Commander Tsuchiya and me to proceed on board the _Mikasa_, where we jointly made our report, with which the Admiral was pleased to express his satisfaction. He, too, was anxious to know whether we required any assistance, and finding that we did not, ordered us to proceed to our rendezvous and get our repairs put in hand without a moment's delay. We arrived safely at our destination early in the afternoon, and within the next hour our damaged craft were in the hands of strong repairing gangs, so prompt were the Japanese to act. The main fleet arrived at the rendezvous shortly before sunset, and anchored. I looked keenly at ship after ship, as they steamed in, but could detect no signs of injury to any of them; so after dinner I took our dinghy and rowed across to the _Mikasa_, with several of the officers of which I was by this time on quite intimate terms. The first man I happened to run into, however, upon passing in through the gangway was Captain Ijichi, commanding the ship; and he, as anxious to hear my yarn as I was to hear his, instantly pounced upon me and marched me off to his own cabin, where we were presently joined by Lieutenant Prince Kasho, for whom Ijichi had sent. Here I was made to start the proceedings by spinning, at considerably greater length, the yarn which I had related to the Admiral earlier in the day, and which I was now able to supplement with the additional information that our 2nd Division had chased the Russian destroyer, of which they had started in pursuit, into Pigeon Bay, where they had sunk her. The honours of the day were of course with them, for they had accounted for two Russian destroyers, whereas we of the 1st Division had only given five of the enemy a very severe mauling; nevertheless, my little audience were good enough to stamp our performance with their marked approval. Then the skipper of the _Mikasa_ related his story. The long-range bombardment of Port Arthur was not a very exciting affair, it seemed, but it was successful in so far that it proved the correctness of the Admiral's theory that it could be done by firing over the high ground and dropping shells upon an unseen mark on the other side. The attempt was of a twofold character, one part of which was to test the above theory, while the other was to destroy the Russian signal station upon the island of Sanshan, off Dalny, from which spot the enemy were able to observe and report to Port Arthur the movements of our fleet. This task was successfully accomplished by a detachment of our cruisers. As regards the long-range, high-angle bombardment of the fortress, it was accomplished in the following fashion. Our battleships proceeded round to the westward of the promontory of Liau-ti-shan to a spot where the high land hid them from the sight of the Port Arthur batteries, and, elevating the muzzles of their 12-inch guns to the required extent, they discharged five rounds each from their four guns--one hundred and twenty shots in all, one shot at a time, while our first cruiser squadron, stationed off the port, to the south-east, carefully noted the spot where each shell dropped, and reported the result by wireless to the battleships, thus enabling them to adjust their aim and rectify any inaccuracies. The result was that one of our shells hit the Golden Hill fort, exploding a magazine and doubtless doing a considerable amount of damage to the structure, while the Mantow Hill fort, on the west side of the harbour, was hit several times and considerably damaged. Several shells fell in the New Town of Port Arthur, setting fire to a number of houses there and causing a tremendous panic and great loss of life. The fifth shell fired by our battleships struck the Russian battleship _Retvisan_, while another fell aboard the _Sevastopol_, exploding on her armoured deck. Yet another of our shells struck a train which happened to be just entering Port Arthur station, destroying the locomotive and, as we subsequently learned, killing the engine-driver and severely wounding the fireman. Finally, the _Retvisan_ adopted our own tactics and retaliated by firing her heavy guns over the intervening high ground, while some of the forts did the same, a party of signallers being stationed on the crest of the hill to direct their aim. As a result of this, shells at length began to drop near our ships; whereupon the Admiral, in obedience to his instructions not to risk his battleships, hauled off; the fleet, as it went, observing three dense columns of smoke rising from the city. Seeing that our ships were retiring, the Russian Admiral led out to sea such of his ships as were fit for service, with the evident intention of luring our ships into the zone of fire of the forts; but he might as well have saved his coal, for Togo was much too wary a bird to be caught with that kind of chaff. On the following day we learned by wireless, from one of our cruiser scouts, that the Russian fleet was being cautiously taken out to sea through our mine-field off the harbour's mouth, the innocuous character of which they had already ascertained,--as intended by our Admiral,-- and, later on, the further information reached us that the fleet was at sea and carrying out evolutions while cautiously working its way southward. Later still, we were informed that the Russians, learning from their scouts that none of our ships were in the vicinity, had proceeded as far as the Miao-tao Islands, off the Shan-tung peninsula, which they subjected to a careful examination, under the impression, as we subsequently learned, that those islands were being used by our destroyers as a hiding-place from which to make our raids. All hands of us immediately made our preparations to weigh at a moment's notice, fully expecting that the Admiral would seize what seemed such a splendid opportunity to intercept the enemy and give him battle in the open sea. But no orders were issued; and we were given to understand that there were certain good and sufficient secret reasons why the opportunity must be permitted to pass. A great deal of surprise, not to say dissatisfaction, was caused by this strange decision; but discipline was so strong, and the idea of implicit, unquestioning obedience had been so thoroughly instilled into the Japanese mind, that not a word of grumbling passed any of our lips. On the night of 21st March the tactics of the 9th of the same month were repeated, including the laying of harmless mines off the mouth of the harbour, and the high-angle bombardment of the fortress by the _Fuji_ and _Yashima_ from Pigeon Bay; but the affair was uneventful; it may therefore be dismissed with the bare mention of it. The Russian ships again came out of harbour and ranged themselves in battle formation in the roadstead, but no wiles of ours could tempt them to leave the protection of the forts, so we drew off and returned to our rendezvous among the Elliot Islands. During the night of 22nd March, four merchant steamers, purchased by the Japanese Government, arrived at our rendezvous from Sasebo, in response to a request from Togo; and the Admiral, with characteristic energy, at once proceeded to prepare them for the task of making a second attempt to bottle up the fleet in Port Arthur harbour. They were the _Fukui Maru, Chiyo Maru, Yoneyama Maru_, and _Yahiko Maru_--all old craft, practically worn-out, and of very little value. These ships, like those used in the first attempt, were loaded with stones and scrap iron consolidated into a mass by pouring liquid cement over it, thus converting it into a sort of reinforced concrete, underneath which was buried the explosion charges destined to blow out the bottoms of the ships and sink them upon their arrival at their destined stations. Hirose, now promoted to the rank of Commander for the gallantry which he displayed upon the occasion of the first attempt, was given the command of the largest ship, the _Fukui Maru_, while, to my intense surprise and gratification, I was given the command of the _Chiyo Maru_, a craft of 1746 tons. The expedition was in charge of Commander Arima, who went with Hirose. The ships were armed with a few old Hotchkiss quick-firers, for use against torpedo craft, should any attack us. Our preparations were completed late in the afternoon of 26th March; and we immediately weighed and proceeded to sea, escorted by a flotilla of destroyers and torpedo-boats, among which was the _Kasanumi_, temporarily under the command of my subordinate, young Hiraoka, who had already proved himself to be a very capable, discreet, and courageous lad. The weather on this occasion was everything that could be desired, perfectly clear, with no wind and a sea so calm that the veriest cock-boat could have safely ventured upon it. The only drawback was that there was a moon, well advanced in her first quarter, floating high in a sky dappled with light, fleecy cloud through which enough light percolated to render even small craft distinctly visible on the horizon. But, after all, this would not greatly matter, indeed it would be an advantage to us, always provided, of course, that we were not prematurely sighted by some keen-visioned, swift-steaming Russian scout; for the moon would set about midnight, while two o'clock in the morning was the time set for our attempt. The run to the offing of Port Arthur was like a pleasure trip; our fleet of old crocks pounded along steadily, with a soft, soothing sound of purling water rising from under their bows, dominated from time to time by the clank of our crazy engines, which our mechanics had doctored up as thoroughly as time permitted, in order to ensure that they should outlast the run across. There was nothing for us to do but follow our leader, so I spent an hour of the time in making sure that our solitary boat should reach the water with certainty and on a level keel when the time should come to launch her, taking the turns out of the davit tackles, well greasing the falls, oiling the block sheaves, and rigging up a device of my own contriving whereby the necessity to unhook the blocks could be avoided when the boat touched the water. At eleven o'clock Commander Arima signalled the destroyer flotilla, and five of the fastest of them at once went full speed ahead, spreading out in a fan-shaped formation ahead of us and on either bow to reconnoitre the roadstead. At ten minutes to midnight the moon, a great golden half-disc, swimming in a violet sky flecked with great islands of soft, fleecy cloud, touched the high land of Liau-ti-shan; and as she sank behind it, the order was given to stop our engines and lay-to for a short while, as we had made a good passage and were somewhat ahead of our scheduled time; also to await the return and report of the destroyers. We were now about twelve miles off Port Arthur, and far enough beyond the range of the searchlights to ensure our presence being undetected. With the setting of the moon, the clouds seemed to bunch together and acquire a greater density, and it fell very dark, such starlight as filtered through the canopy of cloud only barely sufficing to enable us to detect our next ship ahead and astern. The land about Port Arthur loomed up in the darkness like a shapeless black shadow, stretched along the horizon to the west and north, pierced only by the long beam of the searchlight on Golden Hill, sweeping slowly to and fro at intervals. Watching this, for want of something better to do, we presently noticed that, for some reason not explicable to us, the beam never travelled farther south than a certain point, where it invariably paused for a few seconds, and then slowly swept round toward the north again. Wondering whether Arima also had noticed this, I rang our engines ahead for a revolution or two, and hailed the _Fukui_ to inquire. It appeared that he had not; and I was in the middle of a suggestion, the observance of which would, I believed, enable us to get close in, undetected, when our destroyers came rushing back with the information that everything was clear ahead, and that the prospects of success looked exceedingly promising. Whereupon Arima, hailing me, directed me to take the lead in the _Chiyo_, steering such a course as seemed desirable, and the rest would follow. Accordingly, we in the _Chiyo_ went ahead, the _Fukui_ falling in next astern, and the other two retaining their original positions. We started at a speed of six knots only, to give our stokers a chance to get their boilers into the best possible trim and to raise a good head of steam for the final rush, and as soon as our safety valves began to blow off, we increased the number of our revolutions until, when we arrived within four miles of the harbour's mouth, we were racing in, as though for a wager. At this point the destroyers stopped their engines and lay-to. They had done the first part of their work, and must now wait until we had done ours. Meanwhile, I had quite made up my mind as to the proper thing to do, and accordingly shaped a course by which, instead of running straight in, and so crossing the track of the searchlight beam, we edged away to the southward and westward, traversing the arc of a circle, and so just keeping outside the range of the beam. But of course this sort of thing could not go on indefinitely; to enter the harbour we must, sooner or later, get within the range of the light; and when we arrived within two miles of the harbour's mouth further concealment became impossible. But we had done not at all badly, for a ten minutes' rush would now see us where we wanted to be, if in the meantime we were not hit and blown out of the water. As we came within reach of the searchlight, I called down to the engine-room, enjoining those below to give the old packet every ounce of steam they could muster; and the engineer responded by calmly screwing down the safety valves, ignoring the fact that, by doing so, he risked the bursting of the boilers. This was no time for caution, and if the worn-out kettles would only stand the strain for another ten minutes, all might be well. Slowly the searchlight beam came sweeping round toward us, until it rested fully upon us. It swept on for a yard or two, switched back, paused for a few seconds, and then began to wave wildly to and fro, seemingly by way of a signal, while a solitary gunshot pealed out upon the air. Then the light came back to us, fully revealing the four steamers making their headlong rush for the harbour entrance. Following that solitary gunshot there was a tense silence, lasting for perhaps half a minute, while searchlight after searchlight was turned upon us from the heights and from every ship so placed that they could be brought to bear. Then, as though at a preconcerted signal, the batteries on the heights and two gunboats anchored at the harbour entrance opened fire upon us, and the darkness of the night was stabbed and pierced by jets of flame, while the air became vibrant with the hiss and scream of projectiles of every description, which fell all round us, lashing the surface of the sea into innumerable jets of phosphorescent foam. The crash of the heavy gun-fire, and the sharper crackle of the quick-firers, raised such a terrific din that it quickly became impossible to make one's voice heard; but my crew had already received their orders, and the moment that we got within range they opened a steady fire with our two old Hotchkisses upon the gunboats at the harbour's mouth, while our destroyers, pushing boldly in after us, opened fire upon the searchlights, hoping to destroy them, and endeavouring by every possible device to distract the attention of the gunners and to draw their fire from us. But in this they were unsuccessful; the Russians at once divined our intention to seal up the harbour, and recognised that it was vastly more important to them to frustrate our purpose than to waste their fire upon our elusive destroyers; and I doubt whether a single gun was turned upon them. On through the tempest of projectiles we rushed, our old and patched-up engines rattling and clanking and groaning as they worked under such a pressure of steam as they had not known for many a long day; the stokers, after a final firing-up, came on deck, by order of the engineer, and went upon the topgallant forecastle to assist with the guns; and I took up my station by the wheelhouse to con the ship to her appointed berth, which was immediately under Golden Hill, and about a hundred yards from the shore. One of the two gunboats that were guarding the entrance was anchored so nearly in our way that I was sorely tempted to give her the stem and sink her where she lay. But I successfully resisted the temptation, for, had we sunk her, she was too far out to have become an obstruction, while we should probably have smashed in our own bows and gone to the bottom before arriving at our station. As we surged past her, however, within twenty fathoms, we peppered her smartly with our quick-firers, receiving in return a ragged discharge from her entire battery, including a shell from her 6-inch gun which happily passed through our starboard bulwarks and out through our port without exploding. Our foretopmast was at this moment shot away, and fell on deck, but hurt no one, our funnel was riddled with shrapnel, and a bridge stanchion, within a foot of where I was standing, was cut in two; but none of us was hurt. The next moment a shell struck our mainmast and sent it over the side, luckily severing the rotten shrouds and stays also, so that it fell clear and did not foul our propeller. A few seconds later a shell dropped upon our after-deck and exploded, blowing a jagged circular hole of some twenty feet diameter in it, and setting the planks on fire; but a few buckets of water promptly applied sufficed to extinguish the blaze. Meanwhile we were plugging along in grand style and drawing so near to our destination that I called to the men to cease firing, and for two of them to stand by to let go the anchor while the rest came aft and held themselves ready to jump into our solitary boat when I gave the word. It was wonderfully exciting work, for as we drew nearer in we came into the range of fire of other forts and ships, and the air seemed to be thick with missiles, while shrapnel was bursting all round us, and the water was torn by flying shot to such an extent that our decks were streaming, and all hands of us were wet through with the thrown-up spray. At length our appointed berth was so close at hand that I rang down to stop the engines and signed to the helmsman to put his helm hard a-port, while I stationed myself close to the electric button, pressure on which would fire the explosives in our hold and blow our bottom out. We were now so close in under the cliffs that the Golden Hill guns could no longer reach us, also we were out of range of the great searchlights, consequently we were enshrouded in darkness, yet the forts on the west side of the harbour still maintained their fire upon us; but we were now lost in the deep shadow of the cliffs, and the shots flew wide. Half a minute later, I called down the tube to the engineer to send his engines astern to check our way, and then come on deck; and he was still ascending the engine-room ladder when I shouted to the men forward to let go the anchor. It fell with a great splash, and as we had snubbed her at a short scope, she quickly brought up in the exact spot destined for her. "Lower away the boat, and tumble in, men," I shouted; and the words were hardly out of my mouth when I heard the murmur of the falls through the blocks, and the splash of the boat as she hit the water. A few muffled ejaculations followed as the men slid down the falls, then came the rattle of oars as they were thrown out; and finally a voice crying: "All ready, Captain, we only wait for you." "Good!" I ejaculated, and rammed down the button. A tremendous jolt that all but flung me off the bridge, accompanied by a not very loud explosion, followed, the ship trembled as though she had been a sentient thing, and the sound of water, as though pouring through a sluice, reached my ears. Down the ladder I rushed, on to the main deck, seized one of the davit tackles and slid down into the boat; and as the men replied to my question that all were present, the bowman thrust the boat away from the sinking steamer's side, and the oars churned up the water as we pulled away. "Give way, lively, lads," I cried, as I seized the tiller; "we'll get close inshore, where nobody can see us, and save our skins in that way. We have happily escaped thus far; and it would be a pity for any of us to get hit now. There goes the old _Chiyo_! she hasn't taken long to sink, bless her! She is worth a lot more where she is, at the bottom of Port Arthur harbour, than she was when afloat." CHAPTER SEVEN. THE KORYU MARU. Meanwhile the _Fukui Maru_ had also reached her destination, and as we pushed off in the boat from the side of our own sinking ship, we heard, through the din of firing and the explosions of bursting shells, the roar of her cable as her crew let go her anchor. I was sitting with my back turned toward her, intent upon getting our boat as close inshore as possible, when the engineer, who was sitting beside me, touched my arm and pointed. I turned and looked, to see Hirose's ship brought up right in mid-channel--the berth assigned to her; and, bearing down upon her, a Russian destroyer, her funnels and guns spouting flame and smoke as she tore furiously through the water. Another instant, and the destroyer swerved, just clearing the stern of the _Fukui_; there was the flash of a torpedo from her deck tube, a terrific explosion, and the _Fukui_ seemed to be hove up out of the water on the top of a great cone of leaping sea intermingled with smoke and flame. The ship had been torpedoed, quite uselessly, indeed worse than uselessly, for the Russians had simply saved our people the trouble of sinking her. The destroyer passed on, and we temporarily lost sight of her in the darkness and wreathing smoke. We saw the _Fukui's_ boat lowered, and the crew get into her; but she remained alongside so long that she only got away barely in time to avoid being dragged down with the ship. Meanwhile, shells were falling not only all round but also aboard the _Fukui_, and we presently saw that she was on fire, as well as sinking. Nearly or quite a dozen shells must have struck her before she finally foundered; but it was not until the next day that we learned the full extent of the tragedy. It then appeared that the explosion of the torpedo had either disconnected or shattered the wires connected with the explosives in the _Fukui's_ bottom, and a petty officer named Sugino had gone below to explode the charges. It chanced that this man was a blood-brother of Hirose, and, not returning to the deck as he was expected to do, Hirose went in search of him, after ordering the boat to leave the ship. A few seconds later a shell was seen to strike Hirose on the head, of course killing him instantly. Later on, we heard that his floating body had been picked up in the harbour by the Russians, who, to do them justice, buried it with military honours. A small air of wind at this time came breathing down the harbour, momentarily dispersing the thick veil of smoke that overhung the water, and we were thus enabled to see that our third ship, the _Yahiko Maru_, had also succeeded in reaching the berth assigned to her, and was at that moment in the very act of sinking, close to the Pinnacle Rock, a great monolith which rose high out of the water on the western side of the harbour's mouth. Thus far, therefore, everything had gone well with the expedition; and now all that remained was for the fourth ship, the _Yoneyama Maru_, to close up the gap that still remained. I looked round to see if I could see anything of her, and presently the shifting of the searchlight beam from the _Yahiko_ revealed her coming along in fine style, and heading straight for her appointed berth. Hitherto, the Russian batteries had been too busy, attending to us others, to take much notice of her, and she appeared to be all ataunto and quite uninjured. I felt curious to see what was going to happen to her, and gave my crew the order to "Easy all, and lay on your oars!" As I did so, a Russian destroyer--I could not tell whether it was the craft that had torpedoed the _Fukui_, or another--emerged from the darkness, heading straight for the _Yahiko_, as though to run her down! Would they dare? I wondered. Surely not. But if they did not, there was no reason why the _Yahiko_ should not; she was a stout-built, merchant steamer, and, old as she was, would shear through the destroyer's thin plating as though it were brown paper. If I had been in charge of the _Yahiko_, I would not have hesitated an instant, indeed I would have jumped at the chance, and in my excitement I leaped to my feet and, making a funnel of my hands, yelled frantically: "_Yahiko_ ahoy! Give her the stem, man; give her the stem!" But at that precise moment the Russian guns opened again, this time directing their fire upon the _Yahiko_, and my hail was effectually drowned by the crash of the explosions. I am of opinion that, a moment later, the commander of the _Yahiko_ saw his chance, just too late to fully avail himself of it, at all events the bows of the steamer suddenly swept round, and although the destroyer instantly shifted her helm, she was too late to entirely avoid a collision; the rounding of the _Yahiko's_ bow struck her and roughly shouldered her aside, both craft reeling under the impact; and at that instant the destroyer let fly every gun that would bear, the fire from them actually scorching the Japanese crew, who were at that moment preparing to lower their boat. The _Yahiko_ passed on, and so did the destroyer, the latter vanishing in the darkness to seaward, while the _Yahiko_, the centre of a very galaxy of bursting shells, staggered on in a sinking condition, and went down at the very moment when, with astounding skill and coolness, her skipper had brought her to the exact spot for which she was intended. Then it was seen that, either through some miscalculation or, more probably, because the Russians had widened the channel, there still remained an unfilled gap, wide enough for a single ship to pass through! It was a most vexatious thing, after all the trouble that we had taken and the ordeal which we had passed through; but it could not be helped; it was the fortune of war. Stay, though! Why should it not be helped? All that was needed was another steamer--or perhaps two steamers--to fill the gap, and the thing was done. And, hang it all! I was game to do the job myself to-morrow night, when the Russians would least expect me. But, to do the job effectually, it was highly necessary to know the exact width of the gap, and the depth of water in it; and now was the time to ascertain those particulars, while we were on the spot. I would do it! Then came the very practical question: How? What means had we to take soundings, or to measure the gap between the sunken _Fukui_ and the _Yoneyama_? I looked about me, and found that all we had with us was the boat's painter, a piece of rope some seven or eight fathoms long, which might serve as a sounding-line, if only we had a sinker of some sort, which, unhappily, we had not. Then one of the men in the boat, realising what I wanted, informed me that, while preparing the boat for lowering, he had chanced to glance into the locker in the stern-sheets, and had noticed a fishing-line there. Would that be of any use? Of course it would; the very thing for sounding, at all events. We had that line out in double-quick time, cut away the hooks, and then proceeded to knot it at exact intervals corresponding with the length of the boat's after-thwart. Precisely what that length might be, we could ascertain afterward. But, how to measure the width of the gap? There seemed to me to be but one way to do it, and that was by taking the length of our boat herself as a unit of measurement; not a very satisfactory method, I admitted, yet better than nothing. So thereupon we set to work. Starting at the _Fukui's_ mainmast, we dropped the sinker of the fishing-line over the stern and paid out until it reached her deck. Then, giving way with the oars, we felt our way along her deck to her taffrail, lifted the sinker, and dropped it again, clear of the wreck, until it touched bottom. Then, noting the depth as so many knots and fractions of a knot, I jotted the result in my notebook while, the oarsmen keeping the boat in position, another cast was made at the bow end of the boat. Proceeding in this manner, and taking the utmost care to obtain accurate results, we accomplished our task in about half an hour, under a heavy fire from the Russians on the heights, which, strange to say, injured none of us. This done, we pulled out to sea, and were soon afterward sighted and joined by the _Tsubame_ and _Aotaka_, Japanese torpedo-boats, which took us aboard, and exultingly informed us that, a quarter of an hour or so earlier, they had engaged and driven ashore a Russian destroyer, which afterward proved to be the _Silny_, the craft which had torpedoed the _Fukui_, and had narrowly escaped being run down and sunk by the _Yahiko_. The torpedo-boats' crews made much of us and, I believe, would have given us everything they had, if we would have taken it; but I contented myself with a pannikin of _saki_, to counteract the cold of my drenched clothing, and then asked them to run me off alongside my own ship, the _Kasanumi_, which was hove-to about a mile further out. My crew received me back with literally open arms and loud shouts of "Banzai Nippon!" when I allowed it to be known that we had succeeded in doing all that we had been ordered to do. Young Hiraoka was disposed to regard me as a hero, and to treat me as such, commencing a long complimentary speech of homage and congratulation; but I cut him short by remarking that I was perishing of cold, and dived below to give myself a good rough towelling and to change into dry kit. When I went on deck again, the dawn was just brightening the eastern sky, and I then noticed that we seemed to have more than our proper complement of men aboard. Inquiring the reason, I learned that the _Kasanumi_ had picked up the crew of the _Fukui Maru_, poor Hirose's ship; and they furnished me with the particulars of the gallant fellow's heroic death. I also learned that while we had been engaged in the endeavour to block the harbour, our destroyers had been busily employed in sowing further harmless mines, in accordance with the Admiral's plan to convince the Russians that Japanese mines were useless and need not be feared. As the daylight strengthened, it revealed our fleet, strung out along the horizon, the Admiral having followed the blocking ships and destroyers upon the off-chance that the Russians might be tempted to come out and attack them, in the event of our failing in our mission. And at first it appeared as though that chance might be afforded us. For, as we steamed away to the eastward, we saw smoke rising from the funnels of some of the ships in the harbour, and shortly afterward the cruisers _Bayan, Novik_, and _Askold_ came steaming out, with the battleships following. But it was no go; the Russians opened a long-range fire upon us, to which we gave no reply, slowly retiring instead, in the hope of enticing the enemy's ships to follow us beyond the cover of their batteries. The Russian Admiral, however, was too wary, refusing to be drawn, and, putting up his helm, he returned to the harbour. Nevertheless, the event was not altogether unprofitable to us, for as the Russian ships re-entered the harbour, the _Petropavlosk_ ran foul of the _Sevastopol_ and damaged her so severely as to render her unfit for further service until she could be repaired. Meanwhile, the destroyers being no longer required, I devoted myself to the task of reducing to an intelligible state the soundings and measurements which I had that morning taken; and by the time that we were back at our rendezvous I had a little sketch plan of the harbour's mouth ready for the Admiral, showing the exact width of the gap and the depth of water in it, thus enabling him to determine the precise size of the craft required to fill it. I also volunteered to return and fill up the gap that very night, if he could let me have a ship of the required dimensions. But it appeared that he had no ship that could at that time be spared; consequently the job had to wait. But Togo was profuse in his thanks for my offer; and was pleased to be exceedingly complimentary in his remarks touching my "gallantry" in the matter of taking the soundings, as also upon our conduct generally in taking in the blocking ships under such a terrific fire and sinking them exactly in the required positions. He expressed great grief at the loss of poor Hirose, who was, without doubt, a remarkably promising officer, and would assuredly have further distinguished himself and gone far, had he lived. Just before we arrived at our rendezvous that night, our high-pressure cylinder developed a bad crack, possibly through some unsuspected flaw in the casting; and as there were no means of repairing it, except temporarily, where we were, and as in the meantime the boat was useless, I received orders to have the crack patched-up as far as possible, and then to proceed to Sasebo, to have a new cylinder fitted. This mishap involved an absence of the _Kasanumi_ from our rendezvous for ten days; but, as events proved, it did not matter in the least; for the Admiral, doubtless for good and sufficient reasons, now permitted a period of inaction to occur, during which nothing happened beyond the usual watching of Port Arthur harbour. I availed myself of the opportunity thus afforded to have my little ship docked, scraped, and repainted; while my engineer took his engines entirely to pieces, subjected them to a thorough overhaul, and replaced a few brasses and other matters that were showing signs of wear. He also overhauled the boilers, and fitted quite a number of new tubes; so that when at length the boat left the dry dock she was in first-class condition, and ready for any service that could be reasonably asked of her. I found awaiting me at the post office quite a nice little batch of most cheering and encouraging letters from my friends, the Gordons, to which I duly replied at considerable length, giving them--and especially Ronald--full particulars of my adventures up to date; and the receipt of their letters made me feel that while a man had such staunch friends as they had proved to be, the world was not such a bad place, after all. We got back to our rendezvous at the Elliot Islands on the afternoon of 9th April, the little _Kasanumi_ looking as smart and spick-and-span as a new pin, her hull, funnels, mast, guns--everything, in fact, except her deck--painted that peculiar tint of medium smoky-grey which experience had proved to render her almost invisible, even in daylight, and absolutely so at night; and the moment that our anchor was down I proceeded aboard the flagship to report myself, and also to deliver mails for the fleet and dispatches for the Admiral, which I had brought with me. There did not seem to be very much doing at the rendezvous when I arrived, beyond the rebunkering of such craft as needed it; but I noticed a rather smart-looking steamer of about four thousand tons, fitted as a mine-layer, with lighters on both sides of her, out of which a number of very business-like-looking mines were being hoisted. But when I got aboard the _Mikasa_, and was shown into the Admiral's cabin, I found the little gentleman up to his eyes in business, as usual. He dropped his work, however, when I was announced, and, rising from his chair, greeted me in the most hearty and friendly manner; then, bidding me be seated, he asked me how I had spent my time at Sasebo. He expressed the utmost satisfaction with everything that I had done; and presently, when the orderly brought in a bundle of letters and papers from the mail which I had brought, he opened the latter and, selecting from it a particular sheet--the Tokio _Asahi_, I believe it was--opened it, glanced eagerly at a particular column, and then, with a smile and a pointing finger, handed the sheet to me. It had been opened at the page containing naval intelligence; and glancing at it, I perceived, to my amazement and delight, that I had been gazetted to the rank of Captain, "as from 27th March, in recognition of conspicuous gallantry in connection with the second attempt to close Port Arthur harbour." The two other surviving skippers had also been similarly promoted. I scarcely knew how to find words eloquent enough to thank Togo for his generous recognition of my services, such as they were; but he would not listen to a word of thanks, insisting that I had honestly earned the promotion, and thoroughly deserved it. "And now," he concluded, "I am going to give you a further opportunity to distinguish yourself. I have in hand some work, the successful execution of which demands a man who can be depended upon to keep his head and his nerve under the most trying conditions, such as those which existed when you took those soundings and measurements, under, fire, the other day; indeed it was that piece of daring which caused me to select you for the work. You may perhaps have observed a steamer shipping mines--You did? Yes, I thought you would. Well, that steamer is the _Koryu Maru_, a very smart boat, steaming twenty-two knots, which I have had fitted as a mine-layer. The Russians have passed to and fro over our mine-field off Port Arthur, and have had full opportunity to learn that our mines are so harmless that they may be regarded as negligible, so, now, I propose to teach them a new lesson. The mines which the _Koryu_ is shipping are not harmless; on the contrary, they are exceedingly formidable affairs, containing charges ranging from one hundred to two hundred pounds of Shimose explosive, and they are arranged to automatically adjust themselves to varying depths of water. The ship which strikes one of them will be done for! Having told you so much, you will readily understand that they are ticklish affairs to handle, particularly when it comes to laying them; hence my choice of you, Captain Swinburne, to supervise and execute the task. I shall be glad if you will go aboard, at your earliest convenience, and make yourself thoroughly acquainted with the mode of handling them, which is essentially different from that of handling the mines to which you have been accustomed." I thanked the Admiral for this fresh manifestation of his trust in me, and took my leave, pausing only for a few minutes, on my way to the gangway, to exchange greetings with some of the officers of the ship, and reply to their congratulations upon my promotion, the news of which had already got abroad. Then I went down the side, got into my boat, and was pulled across to the _Koryu_, where I found the delicate operation of shipping and stowing the mines in brisk progress. I introduced myself to the officer in charge, who at once proceeded to explain to me the structure and mechanism of the class of mines being dealt with; thus enabling me to understand the danger to be guarded against while handling them; after which he conducted me to my cabin, perched high on the boat deck; and I immediately took possession, sending my boat back to the _Kasanumi_ with a note for young Hiraoka, requesting him to take charge during my absence, and another to my steward, instructing him to send me across such things as I immediately needed. The change was greatly the better for me; for whereas my quarters aboard the _Kasanumi_ were cramped and of Spartan simplicity, the captain's cabin of the _Koryu_ was a spacious and almost luxurious affair, handsomely and comfortably furnished, with all the accommodation that a reasonable man could wish for. Two days later our fleet weighed and proceeded to sea, leaving the _Koryu_ at anchor, with our fourth and fifth destroyer flotillas and fourteenth torpedo-boat flotilla--twelve craft in all--to protect her. My orders were to proceed to sea in time to reach Port Arthur roadstead at midnight of the 12th, sow the harbour approach with mines according to a certain plan, and then retire, with the assurance that, if attacked, there would be a force of ample strength lying in wait to protect me. One part of my duty--after laying the mines--was to endeavour to entice the Russian fleet to come out in pursuit of me. Experience had taught us that, for some reason with which we were unacquainted, the Russian ships invariably followed a certain course when leaving the harbour, while, when returning, they as invariably followed another; my instructions, therefore, were to sow my mines over the area by which the ships returned to port, while leaving free that area traversed by them when coming out; the reason of course being, that as many ships as possible should be enticed to come out, in the hope that many of them would be destroyed upon their return. The night of the 12th was a wretched one in some respects for our purpose. The weather was thick; a strong breeze was blowing from the southward, kicking up a nasty sea; it was bitterly cold; and a thin drizzle of fine snow made the thick atmosphere still thicker; so that it was impossible to see farther than a ship's length in any direction. I foresaw, therefore, that I had a very difficult task before me, not only in getting the little torpedo-boats across in the heavy sea, but in depositing the mines in the right place after we should arrive. To spare the torpedo-boats as much as possible while making the passage against a heavy head sea, I decided to proceed at a speed of ten knots; and we accordingly got under way at five o'clock in the evening, leaving ourselves an hour in hand to cover any delay which we might meet with. I had very carefully studied the tides and the current charts during the afternoon, taken careful note of the strength of the wind, and, taking these matters into consideration, had worked out a course that, unless some of the conditions changed, should take me to the exact spot I wished to reach, at eleven o'clock. Punctual to the moment we started, "in line ahead," each vessel towing a fog buoy behind her to serve as a guide to the next astern, and these buoys I had at the last moment caused to be coated with luminous paint, to make them visible in the intense darkness. All went well with us; the destroyers rode the seas like gulls, while, at the moderate speed of ten knots, the torpedo-boats were not only able to keep station perfectly but also avoided washing their crews overboard. At ten-thirty I made the prearranged signal, and my escort hove-to, leaving me to finish my journey and carry out my perilous task alone. I knew exactly where I was--or rather, where I ought to be--for I had kept a careful reckoning of our progress from the moment of starting, and, unless something had gone wrong, we were then exactly two miles south-east of the Pinnacle Rock lighthouse. But it was necessary to make sure, otherwise I might lay my mines in the wrong place, and all my labour would be useless; I accordingly shaped a course for the lighthouse and cautiously stood in, with a leadsman stationed at each extremity of the overhanging navigating bridge. These took continuous casts of the lead and reported the result to me through my "Number 1," who stood outside my cabin and called to me through an open window, while I stood at the table, with the chart spread open before me, pricking off our position minute after minute, and comparing the leadsmen's results with those shown on the chart, the two agreeing accurately. At length we reached a point beyond which it would be dangerous to go, and I ordered the engines to be stopped and reversed, at the same time stepping out on to the bridge, to ascertain if anything could be seen. But it was as thick as a hedge, the lighthouse lantern was unlighted, and there was not even a gleam from the searchlight on the cliffs above to enable us to verify our position. True, the roar of breakers close at hand told us we were not far from the shore; but that was all we had to guide us; there was nothing for it, therefore, but to go ahead and do the best we could. There is no need for me to enter into a detailed and technical description of the operation of laying mines; I will therefore merely state that, despite the adverse conditions, we succeeded in accomplishing our task and withdrawing without mishap. But we were not a moment too soon, for the light of dawn was filtering through the haze as we dropped our last mine and moved cautiously away from the completed field. The next thing was to find our escort, which we had left two miles out at sea. We were groping our way slowly seaward through the fog, keeping a sharp lookout for the destroyers, when all in a moment the mist lifted, and we sighted them about half a mile distant. And at the same instant, some four miles away to the north-east, appeared a squadron of five destroyers, which we at once identified as our second destroyer flotilla. And yet--no that could scarcely be right, for our "second" consisted of only four boats, while yonder were five--with--yes--a sixth close inshore. I turned to get my binoculars out of the case, in order to investigate a little more closely, and even as I did so the five destroyers became suddenly enveloped in a wreathing cloud of powder smoke, while the sharp, angry bark of quick-fire guns broke the morning silence. The five destroyers were unquestionably engaged in a fight among themselves. The firing continued quite briskly for about five minutes; then there pealed out a sharp, violent explosion, a great cloud of smoke shot into the air; the firing abruptly ceased; and the smoke cleared away just in time to show that one of the destroyers--the craft which we had been unable to identify--was sinking, a shattered, shapeless wreck. At this moment a cry from my "Number 1" distracted my attention from the interesting little drama which I was eagerly watching, and, turning toward the harbour's mouth, in response to his pointing finger, I saw a big, four-funnelled, two-masted cruiser, which I instantly recognised as the _Bayan_, coming foaming out of harbour, evidently intent upon driving off our destroyers, which were now busily launching their boats to save the crew of the destroyer, which had by this time foundered. I was in the very act of issuing an order for one of our Hotchkisses to be fired, to warn the destroyers, when the _Bayan_ opened fire upon them with her light guns, and they were obliged to retreat, double-quick. Of course the _Bayan_ was no match for them in the matter of speed, so after covering the retreat of the second destroyer, which was creeping along close inshore, and pausing to pick up the survivors of the sunken destroyer, the cruiser turned her attention--and her guns--upon us. But we were out of range of her light guns, and for some unknown reason she did not open fire upon us with her heavy weapons, we therefore quickened up to about her own speed, or a trifle less, hoping we might be able to entice her out to where we knew our own cruiser squadron was waiting to cover our retreat. Unfortunately for the success of my scheme, Admiral Dewa, who commanded the squadron, no sooner heard the firing than he put on speed and rushed to our rescue, emerging from the mist and becoming visible while still some three miles away. The instant that they were clear of the fog bank, and could see what was happening, the squadron opened fire upon the _Bayan_ with their heavy guns, when that ship was in turn compelled to up helm and beat a hurried retreat, to my intense disgust; for I felt confident that if our cruisers had only lain doggo in the fog bank, I could have cajoled the Russian ship into following me so far out to sea that her retreat could have been cut off, and we should have nabbed her. As it was, the _Diana_ and _Novik_ came rushing out to her rescue; whereupon Dewa, who by this time recognised the mistake he had made, turned and retired, apparently in a panic, for great clouds of smoke were presently seen to be pouring from the funnels of all his ships. But before ten minutes were over it became perfectly evident that the Admiral was "playing foxy," for despite the clouds of smoke, his ships were barely holding their own, if indeed they were doing as much as that. Naturally, we in the _Koryu_ at once took our cue from the Admiral, and stoked up for all we were worth, using as much small coal as we could scrape together, in order to increase the volume of smoke pouring from our funnel, while we allowed the _Novik_ to gain upon us a trifle from time to time, and then, by an apparently desperate effort, drew away from her again. And this time it really looked as though our ruse was going to prove successful, for the three Russian cruisers continued to chase us with the utmost pertinacity and determination. CHAPTER EIGHT. THE PETROPAVLOSK LURED TO HER DOOM. The explanation of the Russian cruisers' pertinacity was soon made plain to Admiral Dewa by a wireless message which he picked up, addressed to the captain of the _Novik_, which, decoded, ran thus: "Keep in touch with enemy but do not attack until I join you. Two battleships and _Askold_ following to support you. Signed Makarov." Of course I did not know anything about this until afterward, the _Koryu_ not being fitted with a wireless installation; but Dewa at once made a code signal to me instructing me to continue my present tactics; and while this was being done his wireless operators were busily engaged in transmitting a code message to Admiral Togo, who was at that moment lurking, enveloped in mist, some thirty miles away, near the Miao-tao Islands, with his whole battle squadron and the new cruisers _Nisshin_ and _Kasuga_. Makarov, however, was evidently ignorant of that fact; the atmosphere in the neighbourhood of Port Arthur was now quite clear, and to the lookouts on the highest points about the fortress no Japanese ships were visible, save the cruiser squadron, which was undoubtedly in full retreat from the pursuing Russian ships, which it was perfectly evident they were afraid of. It was the moment and the opportunity for which the Russian Admiral had long been pining, the moment when a weak Japanese force, entirely unsupported, lay at his mercy, and now he would smash them! Accordingly, he hurried aboard the _Petrofiavlosk_ and signalled the _Poltava_ and _Askold_--both of which, like the flagship, had steam up-- to weigh at once and proceed to sea. This was done, with marvellous smartness, considering that the craft were Russian, and presently out they came, their funnels belching immense volumes of black smoke and the water leaping and foaming about their bows as they pounded after us at their utmost speed, which, after all, was only about fourteen knots. Meanwhile, Dewa, who was bringing up the rear in the _Asama_,--by the speed of which ship the rest of the squadron regulated theirs,--was very cleverly allowing the Russians to slowly overtake him, while the Russians were straining every nerve to do so, stoking up furiously and wasting their coal in the most reckless manner. Then came an order from the Admiral to me to increase speed and pass ahead of the squadron, out of harm's way, as he was about to open fire upon the Russians. Of course there was nothing for it but to obey, which I did forthwith; but when I had got about a mile ahead, I gradually slowed down again; if there was any fun toward, I was not going to miss it. Besides, it was just possible that I might be of use, for, following the Russian battleships and cruisers, there was now coming up, hand over hand, a crowd of destroyers, against which the _Koryu's_ Hotchkisses might be brought into play. Admiral Dewa only allowed me just bare time to get ahead of his squadron, when he made the signal to open fire upon the pursuers with our cruisers' 8-inch turret guns; and the signal, which had been awaited with the utmost impatience, was promptly responded to with a steady and deadly deliberate fire upon the _Bayan_, which was leading the Russian line. Before her officers had time to realise what was happening, shells were hurtling all about her and raining against her bows and upon her deck, punishing her so severely that they had to stop her engines and allow the rest of the fleet to pass ahead. The Russian fleet, which had thus far been coming on in line ahead, now hurriedly formed line abreast, the two battleships opening fire upon our cruisers with their 12-inch guns. Luckily for us, although the water was smooth the Russian aim was bad, and their shells flew over and on either side of us, but none hit us. Then Dewa, who was far too good a tactician to pit his cruisers against battleships, gave the order to increase speed, and we ran out of range, undamaged. But only just out of range; for we wanted to draw the Russian ships so far away from Port Arthur that Admiral Togo might have a chance to come up, slip in between them and the fortress, cut off their retreat, and force them to fight. And without a doubt we should have been successful, had not the capricious weather played us a scurvy trick at a critical moment when the Russians were some eighteen miles off the land in a south-easterly direction from Port Arthur. For it was at this moment that the fog, which had hitherto hidden Togo's approaching fleet, suddenly cleared, revealing to the Russian lookouts on the Liau-ti-shan heights, the Japanese warships, racing up from the south-west. The approach of the Japanese was instantly frantically signalled to the wireless station, which in turn wirelessed the alarming intelligence to the Russian Admiral. A few moments' study of the chart revealed to Makarov the precariousness of his situation. If he turned and retreated at once, he might possibly escape by the skin of his teeth and get back into harbour before Togo's ships could get up to cut him off, and he did not hesitate a moment. Up went the signal to retire, over went the Russians' helms, and away they scuttled back toward their lair, even faster than they came out, while our cruisers, keenly on the watch for some such movement, also wheeled sharply in pursuit, keeping up a steady fire upon the _Bayan_ and the _Novik_, the rearmost ships in the Russian line. Naturally, the _Koryu_ turned when our cruisers did, following them up at full speed until we were close in their rear, while Dewa was far too busy attending to the pursuit to spare any attention to me and my doings. It was at this juncture that the Russian destroyers made a gallant effort to check our pursuit by distracting our attention from their big craft to themselves. Believing that they held an important advantage over us in point of speed, they boldly slowed down, dropped astern, and, in two divisions, made a determined demonstration on our two flanks, repeatedly threatening to make a dash, close in, and use the torpedo. There was one exceptionally audacious craft, the pertinacity of which caused me to take particular notice of her, and keep a specially watchful eye upon her, because I speedily came to the conclusion that she was doing more than merely demonstrate, she was bent upon mischief. She was making a dead set at the _Asama_, our most valuable ship, getting right to windward of her, and pouring dense volumes of black smoke from her four funnels, so forming a screen for herself, under cover of which she was evidently trying to edge in to within effective torpedo range. Of course the _Asama_ and one or two of the other cruisers opened fire upon her with their light guns, but we, who had crept up to windward, saw that the smoke screen was serving its purpose admirably, and that although the projectiles were falling all round her, she was not being hit. It occurred to me that now was the time when we in the _Koryu_ might be able to render a little useful service, our own destroyers having been unfortunately ordered to return to their rendezvous, some time before, and were now out of sight. Accordingly I gave orders for the gunners to stand by their Hotchkisses, and rang for full speed, also calling down to the engineer for the very last ounce of steam he could get out of his boilers. Like an arrow shot from a bow, the _Koryu_ started forward and, edging well out to windward of the destroyer, opened a brisk fire upon her with our Hotchkisses, aiming at her deck tubes, round which I had seen some men busily clustering. And it was well that I did so, for the Russians were in the very act of launching a torpedo at the moment; indeed they actually _did_ launch it, but by one of those extraordinary flukes that sometimes happen, and are so difficult to describe convincingly, one of our shots struck the weapon at the instant that it issued from the tube, wrecking its propeller and rudder and sending it to the bottom. Evidently the destroyer's crew had been so completely absorbed in their attempt upon the _Asama_ that they had been oblivious to our approach; but now, seeing us bearing menacingly down upon her, her skipper suddenly shifted his helm and would fain have beaten a retreat. As it happened, however, we had by this time drawn up abreast and were between him and his friends, so he evidently came to the conclusion that there was nothing for it but to fight his way out; accordingly he made a dash to cut out across our bows, at the same time turning his whole battery of guns upon us. I instantly ordered my men to leave their guns and get away aft, out of the way of the shot, dismissing the quartermaster also, and taking the wheel in his stead. At such short range, his shots could not possibly miss, and in less than a minute our bows and fore deck showed a very pretty "general average," a 6-pound shell blowing a hole through our plating and wrecking the topgallant forecastle, while several 4-pound projectiles pierced our funnel, blew away our fore topmast, and knocked one corner of the wheelhouse to smithereens. But I did not care; the purpose which I had in mind was fully worth all the damage and more, and I knew now that unless I personally was hit and disabled, I should be able to accomplish it. For I meant to give that impudent destroyer the stem, to run her down and sink her, knowing that our stout bows would shear through her thin plating as though it were paper. And the _Koryu_ had the speed to do it, the destroyer having lost much of her speed by the barnacles and weed on her bottom, which she exposed at every roll. Evidently the Russian did not realise my purpose until it was too late; he seemed to think I was a fool who was giving him a chance to inflict a deadly raking upon me as he crossed my bows; and it was not until I suddenly shifted my helm, rendering a collision inevitable, that what was going to happen dawned upon him. Then there arose a sudden outcry as the crew forsook their guns and made a mad dash at the two small boats slung to the davits, there was a frantic jangling of bells down in the destroyer's engine-room, an officer on her bridge snatched a revolver from his belt and snapped off five shots at me in as many seconds--none of which took effect--and then we were upon her. With scarcely any perceptible shock we struck her fair and square amidships, right in the wake of where I judged her boiler-room would be; there was a horrible crackling and rending of wood and iron as our stem sheared into and through her deck, a clamour of yells from the crew as they fought with each other in their mad haste to lower the boats, and the destroyer heeled over until she was almost on her beam-ends, a volleying succession of deep, heavy _booms_, accompanied by a tremendous outburst of steam, proclaimed that her boilers had burst, and at the same instant she seemed to crumple up and break completely in two, her bow-half sweeping along our port side, while her stern-half drove past to starboard, the crew, unable to get the boats afloat, leaping desperately overboard. A moment before striking the craft, I had rung down an order to the engine-room to stop the engines, and shouted for my crew to stand by with ropes' ends; and now several of these were hove, by means of which we managed to drag three Russians up on to our deck; and then we backed astern and fished up eight more, all of whom we marched below and locked up securely. The other poor fellows, including the captain of the boat, must have gone down with her, for we saw nothing more of them. But we had taught the destroyers a lesson, for thenceforth they kept their distance. Examining into our own condition, we discovered that our injuries arising out of the collision amounted to about as much paint scraped off as might be replaced by the contents of a 10-pound tin, while all other damage was so high above the waterline as to make it of no practical account. And we had not a man injured; so I considered that we had emerged from the encounter very cheaply. It was just half-past nine o'clock, by my watch, when, bursting through the curtains of haze, our battle fleet hove in sight in the south-west quarter, with flags flying, the water leaping and foaming about their cutwaters, and a fine "white feather" of steam playing on the top of their waste-pipes, indicating that the stokers were maintaining a full head of steam in the boilers. But--Japanese luck again--they were just too late; for at that moment the Russian fleet entered the protective zone of their shore batteries and, with a very poor attempt at bravado, slowed down to a speed of about six knots, while the _Sevastopol, Pobieda_, and _Peresviet_ came steaming out to meet them. They had managed to escape by the skin of their teeth; and now, in accordance with the instructions given to the Admiral not to risk his ships by pitting them against the shore batteries, we also were obliged to slow up, and finally to stop our engines. As a matter of fact, the time had come for us to retire; but evidently everybody was curious to see what would be the result of my mine-laying operations of the preceding night, and by common consent we all lay-to. We had not long to wait. We saw some signalling going on between the flagship and the three craft that had come out to meet the fleet; saw the trio fall into line in rear of the retreating fleet; and then, while our glasses were glued to our eyes as we watched the procession of great ships sweeping majestically toward the harbour's mouth--from which they were then little more than a mile distant--we suddenly beheld a tremendous flash of fire envelop the bows of the _Petropavlosk_, the flagship, which was leading the way into the harbour. The flash was accompanied by the upheaval of a gigantic cone of water and an outburst of thick yellow smoke which at once told us that one of our mines had got in its deadly work. Instantly a great exultant roar of "Banzai Nippon!" burst forth from the throats of the eagerly watching Japanese, but it was as instantly checked when they began to realise the full magnitude of the disaster that had befallen their enemy. For even before the sound of the shattering explosion reached our ears we saw her fore topmast fall, saw long tongues of flame leap up from her decks, saw her-two funnels whirl over and fall, one after the other, while her bridge, pilot-house, and foremast soared high into the air; and so tremendous was the force of the explosion that actually one of her 6-inch gun turrets was torn bodily from its strong fastenings and hurled some twenty feet aloft, to crash downward again upon the hapless ship's deck, while a great burst of flame, probably due to the explosion of her boilers, shot up where her two funnels had stood a moment before. A series of heavy explosions followed, seeming to indicate the explosion of her magazines, and then the doomed ship became enveloped in a thick haze of green smoke, in the midst of which played great streams of fire. Through that terrible green haze we were just able to see that she had taken a heavy list to starboard; then her bows dipped, her stern rose until her two propellers were lifted out of the water, a great mushroom-shaped pillar of smoke shot up from her, and--she was gone! And all this had happened in the short space of two minutes, during which shells from our battleships were falling thick and fast about the Russian ships, which had stopped their engines when the explosion occurred, while some of them lowered boats, in the hope of being able to render assistance to the unfortunate flagship. With the disappearance of the flagship, the Russian fleet resumed its way toward the harbour, the _Pobieda_ now being at the head of the line. But scarcely had she started her engines when an enormous pillar of flame, water, and smoke enveloped her amidships. She, too, had come into contact with one of our mines, but, fortunately for her, with much less disastrous results than those attending the destruction of the _Petropavlosk_. She instantly listed, showing that she was severely damaged, but beyond that nothing further happened, so far as we could see, except that the second explosion appeared to have created a perfect panic among the Russians, who immediately opened a terrific fire with every gun, big or small, apparently at random, for we could see the shots throwing up great jets of foam in the water all round them. Later, we learned that when the second explosion occurred, some one aboard one of the ships yelled that the fleet was surrounded by Japanese submarines, discharging torpedoes; hence the frantic firing at the water. Of course the assertion was groundless, since, as a matter of fact, the Japanese had no submarines; but it is not very surprising that, with two disasters, one following so closely upon the heels of the other, the Russians should jump to the conclusion that they had been attacked by submarines; for it must be remembered that we had carefully educated them into the belief that our mines were quite harmless. The loss of the _Petropavlosk_ was a terrible misfortune for the Russians, for she was one of their most formidable ships; being armed with four 12-inch guns of the most recent design, mounted in pairs in her two big turrets; with, as a secondary battery, twelve 6-inch quick-fire guns, eight of which were mounted in pairs in four small turrets placed, two on either beam, behind 5-inch steel armour, while the other four were in casemates similarly protected. She had six torpedo tubes, and we conjectured that she probably had a torpedo in each tube which exploded at the time of the disaster. As for the _Pobieda_, our spies were able to ascertain that the mine which damaged her had breached three of her big compartments and some smaller ones, so that it was only with the utmost difficulty she was got into harbour and beached in time to save her. Also one set of her Belleville boilers was so severely damaged as to be rendered useless. Consequently she, too, was put out of action for a considerable period. Thus, at one fell swoop, the Russian fleet was reduced in strength by two battleships. But their worst loss was their Admiral; for it is indisputable that Makarov was the most able, energetic, and enterprising naval leader they possessed. Two days later, more mines were laid in Port Arthur roadstead, and another attempt was made to entice the Russian fleet to come out and fight us; but the attempt was a failure. As a matter of fact, it afterwards transpired that, upon receipt of the report announcing the loss of the _Petropavlosk_ and the damage to the _Pobieda_, the authorities at Petersburg had telegraphed orders to the effect that the Port Arthur fleet was on no account whatever to leave the harbour until the arrival of Admiral Skrydloff, Makarov's successor. Failing in this, Admiral Togo dispatched the cruisers _Nisshin_ and _Kasuga_ to Pigeon Bay, to make a high-angle fire attack upon the fortress and the ships in the harbour. I was not engaged in either of these attempts, the Admiral considering that I had well earned and was deserving of a few days' rest. Besides, he very properly wished to give some of his other officers a chance to distinguish themselves. But I understood that, with the exception of silencing a new battery which the Russians had built commanding the bay, the bombardment was not attended with any very important results. On the following day our little Admiral, whom some have named the Japanese Nelson, dispatched a squadron of ten cruisers, accompanied by a torpedo flotilla, to attempt to bring the Vladivostock squadron to battle. This squadron was accompanied by a cargo steamer named the _Kinshiu Maru_, loaded with coal and spare stores for the use of the squadron while away from its base; and the expedition was placed under the command of Vice-Admiral Kamimura, with the cruiser _Idzumi_ as his flagship. I had now had a little rest, and as there seemed to be no immediate prospect of serious fighting at Port Arthur, I volunteered for the expedition, and was temporarily attached to the _Idzumi_ as a supernumerary. We left our base among the Elliot Islands on the 16th of April; and after an uneventful cruise of a week's duration arrived at the port of Gensan, on the eastern coast of Korea, about two-thirds of the distance from the Elliots to Vladivostock. There was a Japanese consul at this place, and upon our arrival off the port he and the Commandant came off in a steam launch and, boarding the _Idzumi_, requested an interview with the Admiral, which was at once granted, and the pair were conducted to Kamimura's cabin, where they remained for the best part of an hour. At the close of the interview the visitors entered their steam launch and returned to the shore. Some ten minutes later, Kamimura sent for me; and when I entered the cabin I found him poring over a chart of the east coast of Korea. He welcomed me with the usual elaborate courtesy of the Japanese in their intercourse with each other as well as with strangers, and invited me to approach the table. "I am particularly glad that it is my good fortune to have the pleasure of your honourable company, Captain Swinburne," he began; "for an occasion has just arisen upon which I think your services may prove of the utmost value. You see this little place--Iwon--on the chart. The two honourable gentlemen who have just visited me--the Commandant of Gensan and our Japanese consul stationed here--inform me that rumours have reached their ears of certain suspicious occurrences at Iwon which seem to point to the possibility that the Russian Government may be contemplating the dispatch of a large body of troops to Vladivostock by rail, their embarkation there for Iwon, at which spot they may land, march across Korea, and take our troops at Port Arthur in the rear. To tell you the truth, I have not much faith in the idea, the only point in its favour being that such a movement would be wholly unanticipated by us. But in view of the information which I have just received, it is my bounden duty to investigate the matter; and I therefore propose to dispatch the _Kinshiu Maru_ on a reconnoitring expedition to Iwon, to ascertain what foundation, if any, there may be for the suspicion. As of course you are aware, she carries a small detachment of troops, who may be very useful, should any opposition be met with. These troops will, of course, be commanded by their own officers, while Captain Yago will continue to command the ship. But, being a merchant seaman, he has had no experience of landing troops; and that is where your services will prove of value, especially should any resistance be offered. I therefore want you to change over temporarily to the _Kinshiu_, still as a supernumerary, but with my authority for you to take charge of and superintend the landing and subsequent embarkation arrangements. I am afraid this will mean a certain amount of disappointment for you, since as soon as you have started I shall proceed in search of the Vladivostock fleet. But you must endeavour to console yourself with the reflection that I may not find them, or be able to entice them to come out and fight me." It was true, I certainly did feel a bit disappointed, for I most earnestly desired to see what it was like to be engaged in a regular pitched battle, even though it were only between a couple of hostile squadrons; but I was where I was, to lend a hand where required, not to pick and choose what I would or would not do; in any case I was not going to make occasion for it to be said that an Englishman had unwillingly accepted any duty offered to him; therefore with as much cheerfulness as I could muster, I expressed my perfect readiness to do my best; whereupon Kamimura gave me my written instructions and dismissed me to pack up such few of my belongings as I thought I might need. However, as I had only brought a very limited kit aboard the _Idzumi_, I decided to take everything, since it would all go into a small portmanteau. Meanwhile, the skipper of the _Kinshiu_ had been signalled to have a cabin prepared for me, and for him and Captain Honda, the officer in command of the troops, to repair on board the _Idzumi_ to receive their instructions. They of course came at once, had a short interview with the Admiral, and we all left together, Honda doing the honours of the ship, welcoming me on board the transport, and introducing his fellow-officers, all of whom seemed very jolly fellows, with but one desire, namely, to get to grips with the Russians. We left Gensan that afternoon, escorted by the 11th torpedo-boat flotilla under the command of Commander Takebe; the cruisers weighing at the same time and heading east, in the hope of seeing or hearing something of the Russians. Unfortunately for us, we had not been under way a couple of hours before we ran into a dense fog which delayed our progress to such an extent that we did not reach Iwon until the morning of the 25th. We found there a long, roughly constructed wooden jetty running far enough out from the shore to give a depth of about six feet alongside its head, at low water, which greatly facilitated our landing; and, ashore, we discovered certain artfully concealed field-works of such a character that, armed with a few heavy guns, they might have pretty effectually covered a landing, unless interfered with by a very powerful force. But our visit was evidently quite unexpected, for we only found a small body of Russian troops--about a hundred or so, with a squadron of Cossacks-- in possession; and a few shells from our torpedo-boats sent them to the right-about in double-quick time. We destroyed the earthworks, and the jetty, as a precautionary measure, and, having reconnoitred the country for several miles in every direction without discovering anything very alarming, returned to the ship the same night, without casualties of any kind. It was now about six o'clock in the evening. During the greater part of the day the weather had been beautifully fine; but toward three o'clock in the afternoon a heavy bank of dark, slate-coloured cloud had gathered in the eastern quarter of the sky, so quickly rising and spreading that, by five o'clock, the entire firmament had become obscured, the wind dropped to a dead calm, the light dwindled to a murky, unnatural kind of twilight, there were a few flickerings of sheet lightning, low down on the horizon, occasionally accompanied by a low muttering of distant thunder, and the mercury was dropping with rather ominous rapidity. I confess that, for my own part, I felt a bit puzzled; I did not quite know what to make of the weather indications. It might be that nothing worse than a violent thunderstorm was brewing; but against this theory there was to be set the sudden and ominous decline of the barometric pressure. We had fulfilled our task, and were preparing to get under way, when Takebe, who was in command of the torpedo flotilla, came aboard to consult with our skipper as to the advisability of going to sea, in the face of such threatening conditions. Unfortunately, our escort was composed entirely of torpedo-boats; and although they were staunch enough little craft of their kind, they were nothing like such good sea boats as our destroyers. The latter were, under able management, capable of riding out practically any weather, but with the torpedo-boats it was rather a different story. Some of those that we had with us were small and rather ancient, their engines were not to be too implicitly relied upon, and their boilers were nearly worn-out; indeed, they would never have been detailed for the service, had it been thought that there would be any likelihood of real righting. If by any chance they should happen to be caught at sea in anything like a heavy gale, and anything should go wrong with either their engines or their boilers, the probability was that they would founder, taking all hands with them. It was these considerations that were weighing upon Commander Takebe's mind when he came aboard the _Kinshiu_ to consult with Captain Yagi; and it was evident from his first words that he was all in favour of adopting the prudent course, and staying where we were until it could be seen how matters were going to turn out. But Yagi and he looked at things with different eyes. In the first place, Yagi did not believe that the portents indicated anything more serious than, at worst, a sharp thunderstorm, while at the same time his instructions from Kamimura were that the reconnaissance was to be executed with the utmost dispatch, and that, this done, he was to immediately return to Gensan, so that he might be on the spot in the event of the cruisers needing to re-bunker. And in any case, should it come on to blow, as Commander Takebe seemed to fear, he had no apprehensions concerning the _Kinshiu_; she was a good sturdy little ship, and would weather out the worst that was at all likely to happen. The two discussed the matter together for quite half an hour, occasionally referring to me for my opinion; but both of them were considerably older than I, and had had a much more varied experience than myself of the somewhat peculiar weather conditions of the Sea of Japan; I therefore said as little as possible, and did not attempt to offer a word of advice to either of them. Finally, the matter ended by each of them having his own way--that is to say, Yagi decided to leave for Gensan forthwith, unescorted, taking such trifling risk as there might be--which, they both agreed, amounted practically to none at all-- while Takebe determined to study the safety of his command by remaining where he was and awaiting developments. Accordingly, as soon as the Commander had gone, the order was given to get the anchor; and about seven o'clock we steamed out to sea. CHAPTER NINE. THE ADVENTURE OF THE KINSHIU MARU. By the time that we were fairly out at sea, it was pitch dark, not a star to be seen, and to add still further to the obscurity, a light mist gathered, as it so often does in the Japan Sea, so that by eight o'clock it was only with the utmost difficulty that we were able to discern a small junk which we had in tow, and which had been employed by us to facilitate the landing of the troops. The weather still continued overcast, and the play of sheet lightning gradually grew more vivid and frequent; but there was no wind, and not much sea; and as time went on I began to think, with Yagi, that Takebe's apprehensions had been groundless, and that we were in for nothing worse than, may be, a thunderstorm, after all. I spent a couple of hours in the saloon that night, watching the infantry officers, of whom there were six, playing some wonderful game of cards, of which I could make nothing, and then strolled up on the bridge to see what the weather was like, and to have a yarn with Yagi, before turning in for the night. It was still hazy and very overcast, but there was not a breath of air save the draught created by the motion of the ship, and there was a very beautiful display of sheet lightning, almost continuous, which lighted up the clouds, the mist, and the sea in the most marvellous manner. The ship was then heading south-east, with all her lights burning brightly, as in duty bound, and I was sitting astride a camp-stool, with my shoulders resting against the port rail of the bridge, while Yagi, also occupying a camp-stool, sat facing me. He was spinning some yarn-- a sort of Japanese fairy tale, it seemed to be--about a geisha, while I was staring contemplatively into the darkness over the starboard bow, watching the wonderful play of the lightning, when suddenly, as a flash lighted up the gloom, I thought I caught a momentary glimpse of three or four dark shapes, about a mile away, broad on the starboard bow. If I had really seen those shapes, they could only be ships, _and they were showing no lights_; I therefore ruthlessly cut into the skipper's yarn by directing his attention to the point where the momentary vision had revealed itself. "What is that you say?" he exclaimed. "Ships without lights? Then it must be our Admiral, still hunting for the Vladivostock squadron. Well, we have not seen them, and we had better tell him so, and at the same time inquire whether he has any fresh orders for us. Mr Uchida,"--to the chief officer,--"our squadron is away out there, somewhere on the starboard bow. Have the goodness to honourably make our night signal, as I wish to speak the Admiral." Uchida hurried away and, the signal lanterns being always kept ready for immediate use, in less than a minute they were hoisted. Meanwhile there had been no further lightning flashes to illuminate the darkness, and I rose to my feet, for we were still steaming ahead at full speed, and I had a feeling that we must be drawing pretty close to the strangers. As I did so, our signal was answered by the imperative order: "Stop immediately!" And at the same instant a brilliant and protracted flicker of sheet lightning revealed four large ships, not more than three cables' lengths distant. The leading ship was a big lump of a four-funnelled cruiser, the funnels coloured white, with black tops, and she carried three masts. The second craft was very similar in general appearance to the first, also having four white, black-topped funnels, and three masts. The third was a two-masted, three-funnelled ship; while the fourth was of distinctly ancient appearance, being of the period when sails were as much used as steam. She had two funnels, and was barque-rigged, with royal yards across, but she was now under steam, with all her canvas furled. We had no such ships in our fleet, while I instantly identified the barque-rigged craft as the Russian cruiser _Rurik_, of the Vladivostock squadron! That squadron, then, for which Admiral Kamimura was especially hunting, was actually at sea, and we had fallen in with it! There was not the least doubt about it. In every wardroom and gunroom of every Japanese warship there was an album containing a beautiful, complete set of photographs of every ship in the Russian navy, each ship being pictured from at least four different points of view; and it was a part of every officer's duty to study these photographs until he had acquired the ability to identify at sight any Russian warship he might chance to encounter. Thus, in the leading ship of the squadron in sight, a moment's reflection enabled me to recognise the _Rossia_, with, astern of her, the _Gromoboi_, then the _Bogatyr_, and finally the _Rurik_. "Jove!" I exclaimed. "We've done it now, with a vengeance, Yagi. Those four ships comprise the Russian Vladivostock squadron; and we are right under their guns! Stop her, man, for heaven's sake. It is the only thing you can do. If you don't, the beggars will sink us out of hand." "They will probably do that in any case," growled Yagi, as he laid his hand on the engine-room telegraph and rang down an order to stop the engines. "But, as you honourably say, Captain, it is the only thing to be done, although it means the interior of a Russian prison for all hands of us." As the _Kinshiu's_ engines stopped, the _Rossia_ turned her searchlights upon us, brought her guns to bear, and lowered two boats, the crews of which we could see were armed to the teeth. And at the same moment two destroyers loomed up out of the darkness, one of which stationed herself on our port bow, while the other placed herself upon our starboard quarter, each of them with their tubes and guns manned. Evidently, the Russians did not mean to leave us the smallest loophole for escape. The six Japanese infantry officers, noting the stoppage of our engines, came rushing up on deck to learn what was the matter; and upon hearing that the strange ships which had stopped us were Russian warships, hurried away below again, presumably, I thought, to give orders of some sort to the troops under their command. The _Rossia_, with the way she had on her, had by this time closed to within about twenty-five fathoms of us; and at this juncture an officer on her bridge hailed, ordering our skipper to send a boat. "Good!" ejaculated Yagi. "We will do so. But we will not go aboard the _Rossia_. Oh, no. We will slip away in the darkness and make for the land. And you will honourably accompany us, will you not, Captain? A Russian prison has no attractions for you, eh?" "You are right, my friend, it has not," I answered; "for which reason I must decline to accompany you. Because you will never get away, Yagi. How can you, with those searchlights turned full upon us, and those destroyers where they are?" "Nevertheless, I shall try," answered the skipper; and he turned away to bellow an order to the crew to clear away and lower the port lifeboat, the port side being shielded from the glare of the searchlights. Then I heard him order the chief officer to superintend the lowering of the boat, and at the same time to smuggle an extra breaker of water and a bag or two of biscuits into her. Then he turned again to me. "If you will not come with us, what will you honourably do, my friend?" he demanded. "Oh," said I, "I shall join the infantry officers below, and see what they are going to do." And without further parley, I ran down the ladder and made my way below to the saloon, where I found the six officers sitting at the table, looking very pale and grave. "Well, gentlemen," I cried, "here we are, in a nice little Russian trap. What do you propose to do?" "We thought at first of performing hari-kari," said one of them. "But Captain Nagai, with whom you were discussing the subject of hari-kari, only the night before last, appears to have come round to your way of thinking that it is better to live for the Emperor than to die for him. He argues--as you did--that a dead man can do nothing for his Emperor, whereas a living man may be able to do many things; in which statement there is truth. Therefore we propose to surrender to the Russians, in the honourable hope that we may be able to effect our escape, sooner or later, and return to fight for Nippon. What do you honourably propose to do, Captain?" "Oh," said I, "to surrender seems the most sensible thing to do, and doubtless I shall do it--eventually. Meanwhile, however, I think I will toddle up on deck again, and see how Yagi and the ship's crew are getting on. They are going to try to slip away in the ship's lifeboat, you know?" "Banzai!" cried one of the officers. "I hope they will honourably succeed. But, having decided to surrender, I think the safest place is down here. Doubtless we shall soon see you again." "Y-e-s,--possibly," I replied. "But I shall not surrender until the last moment; so, if you do not see me again, you may conclude that I have found some means of effecting my escape, and have seized them." Saying which, I shook hands with them all round, and returned to the deck. During my brief visit to the saloon, Yagi and his men had got their boat into the water, and were now pulling boldly for the _Rossia_; but I noticed that directly they passed out of the area of radiance cast by the searchlight, they shifted their helm sharply and, crossing the cruiser's bows, were evidently endeavouring to slip past her in the gloom of her own shadow. Then, suddenly, an idea occurred to me. The _Kinshiu Maru_ had in tow a small junk, or lighter, which we had used to facilitate the landing of the soldiers at Iwon. Where was she now? Crouching low under the cover of the bulwarks, to avoid being seen by those aboard the _Rossia_, I slipped aft and, cautiously peering over the taffrail, saw that she had drifted right in under the _Kinshiu's_ counter, where she was momentarily threatening to bilge herself against the steamer's iron rudder, as the two craft ground against each other on the swell. The forward half of her lay in the deep shadow of the _Kinchiu's_ stern--a shadow rendered still deeper and more opaque by the vivid brilliance of the searchlight beam that covered the stern-half of her, and it immediately occurred to me that if I could but climb down into her, unobserved, and cut her adrift, I might possibly contrive to avoid entering a Russian prison after all. No sooner thought of than done; the moment was propitious, the towing hawser lay under my hand, and in another moment I was down upon her tiny forecastle, hacking away at the grass rope with my pocket-knife. The blade was keen, as a sailor's knife should always be, and with a few vigorous slashes the hawser was severed and I was adrift. Then, taking advantage of the heave of the two craft, I managed to move the junk until she lay entirely in the shadow cast by the _Kinshiu's_ hull. At this juncture I heard the gruff voices of Russians overhead, on the transport's deck, and, thinking discretion the better part of valour under the circumstances, dropped off the junk's short fore deck into her shallow hold and there concealed myself, lest any inquisitive Russian should peer over the bulwarks, catch sight of me, and order me up on deck again. I don't know whether it occurred to any of the enemy to look over the side, but I do not think so; at all events, if they did, nobody took the trouble to come down and search the junk; and in a few minutes the voices ceased; I took it that the visitors had gone below to search the ship. If they had, what would happen to them, with over a hundred armed Japanese soldiers down there? I had not long to wait for an answer to this question. About two minutes of silence succeeded to the sudden cessation of the Russians' voices on deck, and then the muffled crack of a pistol-shot rang out from the _Kinshiu's_ interior, instantly followed by a shout of "Banzai Nippon!" and the crack of several rifles; there arose a sudden outburst of yells and execrations in Russian, a stampede of many feet along the deck, the sounds of a scuffling hand-to-hand fight, a volley of orders from the Russian officer in command of the boarding party, a hoarse hail from one of the warships, and then the rattle and splash of oars hastily thrown out. Evidently, the Japanese soldiers had given the intruders a warm reception. The hurried departure of the boarding party was quickly followed by a rolling volley of rifle-fire from the _Kinshiu_, apparently directed upon the retreating boats, for I heard cries and groans which seemed to proceed from them. Then, from the _Rossia_ came the sudden, snapping bark of her quick-firers and machine-guns, and a storm of missiles crashed through the transport's thin bulwarks or flew whining overhead, intermingled with shrieks, groans, and excited shouts from the Japanese soldiers, who had evidently resolved to die fighting, rather than surrender. The sounds awakened the fighting instinct within me; I felt that, let happen what would, I must be among those gallant fellows, doing my share of the work; and I nipped out from under the junk's short deck, intent upon climbing aboard the _Kinshiu_ again. And then I found that during the short period of my seclusion, the junk had parted company, and was now a good twenty feet distant from the transport. True, I might jump overboard and swim the intervening space, and I was actually poising myself for the dive when the question flashed into my brain: How was I to get aboard, how climb the vessel's smooth iron side. There were no ropes hanging overboard, save the severed towing hawser, and I had cut through that so high up that even when the steamer's stern dipped, the end did not reach within a couple of feet of the water. I recognised that whether I would or not, I must now stay where I was, for return to the steamer was impossible. And while I stood there on the junk's short fore deck, watching the scene with fascinated eyes, that awful, unequal duel went on between the Japanese rifles and the _Rossia's_ machine-guns; the soldiers frenziedly yelling "Banzai Nippon!" between each volley, while the Russian gunners plied their pieces in grim silence. The _Kinshiu's_ deck, I knew, must be by this time a veritable shambles, for the Russian cruiser lay close aboard, and her machine-guns could sweep the transport's decks from stem to stern; moreover, the rapid and ominous slackening of the rifle-fire testified eloquently to the frightful carnage that was proceeding. The cries of "Banzai Nippon!" were no longer thundered forth in a defiant roar, but were raised by a few voices only, which were almost drowned by the dreadful shrieks and moans of the wounded and dying. Then, suddenly, there occurred a frightful explosion, the _Kinshiu Maru_ was hove up on a mountain of foaming water which belched forth fire and smoke, the air became suddenly full of flying splinters and wreckage, a heavy fragment of which smote me full upon the forehead and knocked me back into the junk's hold, and as my senses left me I was dimly conscious of a wailing cry, pealing out across the water, of "Sayonara!" (Farewell for ever). It was the last good-bye to Emperor, country, and all who were nearest and dearest to them of that heroic little band of Japanese infantry-men who preferred to die fighting gloriously, rather than win inglorious safety by surrender. The Russians had made an end of the affair by torpedoing the transport, and she must have sunk within a very few minutes. When I recovered my senses it was broad daylight. For a few moments I knew not where I was, or what had happened to me, but I was conscious of the most splitting headache from which I had ever suffered in my life. The next thing that dawned upon me was that I was lying in the bottom of a small craft of some sort, which was rolling and plunging most atrociously on a short, choppy sea, that I was chilled to the very marrow, and that water was washing about and over me with every motion of the boat. I was wet to the skin and, although shivering with cold, my blood scorched my veins as though it were liquid fire. I sat up, staring vaguely about me, and then became aware of a curious stiff feeling in the skin of my face. Putting my hands to my head, to still the throbbing smart of it, I found that my hair was all clogged with some sticky kind of liquid which, upon looking at my hands, I found to be blood, evidently my own. This at once explained the curious stiff feeling of my face; it was probably caused by dry caked blood. But, to make sure, I sprang open the case of my watch--the polished surface serving well enough for a mirror--and gravely studied my reflected image. I must have presented a ghastly sight, for my whole face was a mask of blood, out of which my eyes glared feverishly. Then, as I continued to stare at the interior of my watch-case, wondering what it all meant, my memory of the events of the preceding night--I knew it must be the preceding night, because my watch was still going--all came back to me, and I understood where I was. Scrambling giddily to my feet, I looked about me and saw a bucket rolling to and fro on the junk's bottom-boards. The sight suggested an idea to me and, taking the bucket and the end of a small line which I bent on to the handle, I somehow managed to hoist myself up on to the small foredeck and, lying prone--for I dared not as yet trust myself to stand--I lowered the bucket, and drew it up again, full of clean, sparkling salt-water. Into this I plunged my head, keeping it immersed as long as my breath would allow, meanwhile removing the blood from my face and hair as well as I could. The contact of the cold salt-water made my lacerated forehead and scalp smart most atrociously, yet it relieved my headache and greatly refreshed me. Then, stripping off my wet shirt, I tore a long strip from it and, thoroughly saturating it in the clean salt-water, bound up my wound as best I could, after which I felt distinctly better. Then, sitting on the little deck, I looked about me to see if I could discover any traces of last night's horror; but there was a moderate breeze blowing, and I instantly recognised that the junk must have drifted several miles from the spot where the disaster had occurred. There was nothing to be seen, no, not so much as a solitary scrap of wreckage, within the radius of a mile, beyond which everything was blotted out by a curtain of haze. By this time I had pretty completely recovered my senses, and was able to fully realise my situation. I was wet, cold, feverish, and horribly thirsty, and was the sole occupant of a small, leaky junk of about twenty-five tons, without masts or sails, these having been removed in order the better to fit her for the duty of carrying troops. She had a pair of sweeps aboard, it is true; but they were so ponderous that each demanded the strength of four men to work it; they were therefore quite useless to me, even had I known precisely where I was, which I did not. All I knew was that I was some fifty miles, or thereabout, to the southward and eastward of Iwon; but I might as well have been five hundred miles from the place, for all the means I had of returning to it, or even of making a shot at Gensan. The fact was that I was adrift in a hulk; and the utmost that I could do was to keep her afloat, if possible, and patiently wait for something to come along and take me off her. Realising this, I proceeded to overhaul the junk, with a view to ascertaining what were her resources. I remembered that a cask of fresh water had been put aboard her for the use of the troops while landing and embarking; and I soon found this, still more than half-full, snugly stowed away under her foredeck, with a lot of raffle consisting of odds and ends of line of varying sizes, a fragment of fishing-net, a few short lengths of planking, and other utterly useless stuff. I drank dipper after dipper of water, until my raging thirst was quenched, and then stripped off my clothes, wrung them out, and spread them to dry in the wind while I rubbed my body dry with my hands, employing a considerable amount of exertion, in order to restore warmth to my cramped limbs. In this effort I was at length successful; and my next business was to search the other end of the junk, in the vague hope that I might find something in the way of food; but there was none; therefore I had to go hungry. I had a bucket, however, and with this I bailed the hooker practically dry, as much to pass the time and keep myself warm, as for any other reason. Then, having done everything that I could think of, all that remained for me was to wait as patiently as might be for something to come along and rescue me. My position was by no means an enviable one. I had no food; but, for the moment, that did not greatly matter, since the smart of my wound had made me feverish, and I had no appetite. On the other hand, I suffered from an incessant thirst, which even the copious draughts of water in which I frequently indulged did little to allay. The weather was overcast, and there was a thin mist lying upon the surface of the grey sea which circumscribed my view to a radius of less than a mile, and the air was keenly raw. I recognised that it was necessary to keep myself constantly active, to counteract the effect of the chilly atmosphere, and this I did, bustling about, overhauling the raffle in the junk, and executing a good deal of utterly useless work, which I varied from time to time by taking long spells of watching, in the hope of sighting some craft to which I might signal for assistance. Also I repeatedly bathed my head in sea water, which did a little toward reducing the feeling of feverishness from which I was suffering. Toward the afternoon the conditions became more favourable. The clouds broke, the sun came out and took the feeling of rawness out of the air, so that I no longer suffered from the cold, and the mist melted away, affording me a clear view to the horizon. But the sea was bare; there was not even so much as a blur of steamer's smoke staining the sky in any direction; and I began to wonder how long it might be before I should be picked up, or whether indeed I should be picked up at all. I knew, of course, that the non-arrival of the _Kinshiu_ at Gensan would give rise to speculation, and that probably a search for her would be instituted along the course which she might be expected to steer, but I was already several miles from that course, and hourly drifting farther from it. The question of importance to me was whether the search would extend over a sufficiently wide area to take me in. The remainder of that day passed uneventfully for me; I could do nothing beyond what I have already indicated; no craft of any description hove in sight; and toward sunset the pangs of hunger began to manifest themselves. I watched the sea until night closed down; and then, when it became so dark that further watching was useless, I crept in under the fore deck among the raffle and turned in upon such a bed as I had been able to prepare for myself during the day, in anticipation of the possibility that I might be obliged to pass the night aboard the junk. As might be supposed, under the circumstances, the earlier part of the night at least was full of discomfort for me; but somewhere along in the small hours I dropped off to sleep, and eventually slept soundly, to be awakened by the noise of steam blowing off, close at hand. I started up, listened for a moment to assure myself that the sound was not an illusion, and, satisfied that it was real, scrambled up on the junk's deck, to be greeted with the sight of several ships of war close at hand. A single glance sufficed to assure me that my troubles were at an end; for the ships in sight were those of Admiral Kamimura's squadron, the _Idzumi_ being hove-to at less than a cable's length distant, in the very act of lowering a boat. There were several officers on her bridge, and she was close enough to enable me to see that they were all scrutinising the junk through their glasses; I therefore waved to them, and was waved to in reply. A few minutes later the boat, in charge of a lieutenant, dashed smartly alongside and the officer scrambled nimbly up the junk's low side. I think he had not recognised me until then, although we knew each other very well. He gazed at me dubiously for a moment, then his hand shot out to grasp mine as he exclaimed: "Hillo! my dear Swinburne, what does this mean; what are you doing here? And are you all alone?" I answered his question by informing him, in as few words as possible, of what had happened to the ill-fated _Kinshiu Maru_, and then we got down into the boat and pulled across to the _Idzumi_, where Kamimura and his officers were impatiently awaiting us. They gave me the warmest of welcomes, and would not even permit me to tell them my story, the lieutenant who had rescued me assuring them that he had already obtained all the particulars and could tell it as well as I could. I was accordingly at once turned over to the care of the ship's surgeon, and made comfortable in the sick bay, the squadron immediately resuming its cruise. Now that the tension of looking after myself was relaxed, a reaction set in, with high fever, and for the next four days I was really ill, with frequent intervals of delirium. But there were no complications of any kind, and by the end of the sixth day I was so far recovered as to be able to dress and sit up for an hour or two. Everybody aboard the _Idzumi_ was exceedingly kind to me, as kind indeed as though they had been brothers; and this fraternal feeling of kindly interest was not confined to the _Idzumi_ alone, Kamimura himself informing me, with a smile, that it had become quite a habit for the other ships to signal an inquiry as to my condition, every morning. As the officers of the ship came off watch, they came tiptoeing along to inquire after me; and if I happened to be awake, and the doctor permitted it, they would sit and chat with me for half an hour or so before retiring to their cabins, by which means I gradually acquired all the missing links in the story of the squadron's abortive cruise. From these conversations I gathered that after the squadron and the _Kinshiu_ parted company off Gensan, while we in the transport headed for Iwon, the squadron proceeded toward Vladivostock, being much delayed by a dense fog, through which it steamed at half-speed, each ship towing a fog buoy as a guide to the ship immediately following, though, even with this assistance, keeping touch was only accomplished with extreme difficulty. Thus they proceeded until, by dead reckoning, they arrived at a point seventy miles south of Vladivostock, when, the weather being much too thick to permit of fighting the enemy, even should the two fleets blunder together, Admiral Kamimura decided to retrace his steps, arriving at Gensan two days later. Here the Japanese consul boarded the _Idzumi_ and imparted to the Admiral the startling information that on the previous day four strange warships, accompanied by a couple of destroyers, had appeared off the port, the warships being later identified as those constituting the Vladivostock squadron. The destroyers had entered the harbour, boarded a small Japanese craft loaded with fish, ordered her crew to get into her boat and go ashore, and had then torpedoed her; the expended torpedo being probably at least as valuable as the ship which it sank! Later on, the Russian cruisers had entered the harbour, but had left again without doing any damage. In reply to an inquiry concerning the _Kinshiu Maru_, the consul replied that neither she nor her escort had yet returned. This information caused Admiral Kamimura some uneasiness, since there had been time for us to do all that we had been ordered to do, and to get back to Gensan; and the squadron was actually getting its anchors, preparatory to its departure to hunt for the transport, when Commander Takebe with his torpedo-boats arrived. Questioned as to the whereabouts of the _Kinshiu_, he expressed surprise at her non-arrival, briefly relating particulars of the discussion which had resulted in the transport leaving Iwon, unescorted, while he remained in harbour to see what the weather developments were going to be. This was enough for Kamimura. Takebe's story, in conjunction with that of the consul at Gensan, convinced the Admiral that something very serious had happened; and he at once gave orders for the torpedo flotilla to proceed along the coast to hunt for news of the transport, while he, with his squadron, started off in chase of the Russians. It was on the morning following this second departure of the squadron from Gensan, that they sighted the junk from which I was rescued. It is possible that, in his eagerness to overtake the Russians, he might have pushed on without pausing to examine a small, apparently derelict junk, but for the fact that, fortunately for me, two or three of the _Idzumi's_ officers recognised her as the junk which the _Kinshiu_ had taken with her to facilitate the landing operations at Iwon. After they had taken me off the junk, the Japanese had pushed ahead direct for Vladivostock, in the hope of arriving there before the Russians. But in this hope they were disappointed. Upon their arrival, the Russian cruisers were seen to be already back in harbour; and all that was accomplished was to drive precipitately back into the harbour two Russian destroyers which had the impudence--or the courage--to come out and threaten them; and also to exchange a few shots with the Russian forts. CHAPTER TEN. ITO'S YARN. We arrived at our rendezvous among the Hall Islands on the afternoon of May 3rd, and found the place practically deserted, those who were left behind reporting that Admiral Togo and the fleet had left for Port Arthur, the previous day, for the purpose of making a third attempt to seal up the Russian fleet in the harbour. I was by this time making excellent progress toward recovery, but the _Idzumi's_ surgeon considered that I should do still better in the hospital ashore; I was therefore landed within half an hour of the ship's coming to an anchor, and that evening found me comfortably established in the roomy convalescent ward, in charge of an excellent and assiduous medical and nursing staff. The latter was composed of young Japanese women, than whom, I think it would be impossible to find more gentle, attentive and tender sick-room attendants. I don't know whether they were more than usually kind to me because I happened to be a foreigner who was helping to fight Japan's battles in her hour of need, but it appeared to me that they were vying with each other as to who should do the most for me. Had I been a king, they could not have done more for me than they did. On the following morning, having been assisted to rise and dress by the two nurses whose especial charge I was, and established by them near an open window overlooking the roadstead, I was making play with a particularly appetising breakfast when, glancing out of the window, I saw a big fleet of transports arriving--there were eighty-three in all, for I had the curiosity to count them; and while they were coming to an anchor another fleet appeared, consisting of the warships which had been to Port Arthur to assist in the attempt to seal up the harbour. So interested was I in these arrivals that, in watching them, I allowed my breakfast to go cold, and nothing would satisfy my nurses but that they must get me another breakfast, which they did. I had scarcely finished my belated meal and been attended to by the surgeon, when the door of the ward was thrown open, and in rushed my former lieutenant, Ito, now captain of the destroyer _Akatsuki_. He had volunteered for service on the 2nd, it appeared, and upon his return had encountered the _Idzumi's_ Number 1, who had related to Ito my adventure aboard the junk, and the good fellow had straightway come to the hospital to see me "and pay his respects." Also, I shrewdly suspected, to spin me the yarn of his own adventures. But he insisted upon hearing my story first; and when I had told it, in the fewest words possible, he told me his own, which, stripped of his somewhat peculiar modes of expression, ran somewhat as follows: "Two days ago," he began, "the news reached here that our soldiers had crossed the river Yalu; and thereupon the Admiral made up his mind that the moment had arrived for a further attempt to be made to seal up the Russian fleet in Port Arthur harbour. "As you are aware, Togo has for some time been quietly making preparations for this attempt, the twelve steamers that have been lying at anchor here having been provided especially for that purpose. You know also that of those twelve, eight have been prepared in the usual manner, by placing heavy charges of gun-cotton in their bottoms, connected with the bridge by electric wires, so that the officer in command might be able to explode the charges and sink his ship at the proper moment, while, on top of these charges, the hull of the ship was converted into a solid rock-like mass by filling her with concrete made of stone, old railway metals and other iron, and cement. Five of the ships were also fitted with searchlights, so that we might not again have to contend with the difficulty of finding the harbour entrance. "Commander Hayashi, whom I believe you know, was appointed to command the expedition; and volunteers were called for in the usual way. Of course I offered myself; and Togo was good enough to appoint me to the _Totomi Maru_, a small craft of some nineteen hundred tons, under a splendid fellow named Honda. "We left here at noon of the 2nd, escorted by the gunboats _Akagi_ and _Chokai_, the second, third, fourth, and fifth destroyer divisions, and the ninth, tenth, and fourteenth torpedo-boat flotillas. "When we started, the weather was everything that could be desired; there was no wind, and the water was like glass, while, for a wonder, the air was crystal clear; also there would be a good slice of moon to light us on our way after sunset. But the weather was too fine to last; you know how it is in these seas, my dear chap. Toward sunset the barometer began to fall very rapidly, and about eight o'clock a fresh south-easterly breeze sprang up quite suddenly; it became hazy, the sea got up rapidly, and by six bells in the first watch it was blowing hard, and the weather became so thick that we lost sight of each other. I heard to-day that Hayashi, seeing what was coming, made the signal to postpone the attempt; but we never saw the signal, and went on, rolling and plunging through the short, choppy seas in the most uncomfortable manner. "It appears that the alarm was first given to the Russians, about two o'clock next morning, by the appearance of what looked like a searchlight, far out at sea, directed full upon the mouth of the harbour. Of course the searchlight on Golden Hill was at once brought into play, and it chanced that as the beam swept the sea, five of our torpedo-boats were sighted, attempting to slip into the harbour. It was a thousand pities that they were prematurely discovered, for their skippers had formed a bold plan to enter the harbour and torpedo every ship they could find, taking their chance of being able to get away afterward. But of course their discovery frustrated that plan, for so hot a fire was opened upon them by three Russian gunboats which were guarding the harbour's mouth, that to have persisted would have meant their destruction. So they were obliged to retire; for the Admiral would not have thanked them for throwing away their boats uselessly. "Then the searchlight picked up the _Mikawa Maru_, which was leading three other explosion ships straight for the harbour, and a terrific fire was opened upon her, the Russians evidently recognising her as a merchant ship, and guessing at her business. From Sosa's report it appears that, having seen the flashes of the guns, firing upon our torpedo-boats, he was under the impression that certain of the explosion ships had already entered the harbour and were being fired upon by the Russians; but, as he drew nearer in, his searchlight revealed his mistake, showing him that instead of being one of the last, he was the first to arrive; therefore he called down into the engine-room for every ounce of steam they could give him, and went, full pelt, for the harbour, through a perfect tornado of projectiles, great and small, few of which, however, touched the ship, though they were lashing the sea into spray all round her. "Without sustaining any serious damage, the _Mikawa_ charged right into the narrow channel at top speed. At this point she came into violent collision with something that afterward proved to be a `boom,' constructed of stout balks of timber, steel hawsers, and ponderous chain cables, all strongly lashed together and stretched right athwart the channel, from shore to shore. But she was of nearly two thousand tons measurement, and, with the way that she had on her, she went through that boom as though it had been a thread! On she went, until not only the searchlight but also Golden Hill fort was on her starboard quarter, and she had penetrated farther than any other Japanese ship had done since war was declared, when, having reached the point where the channel is narrowest, Sosa, her skipper, swung her athwart the fairway and, amid the cheers of his crew and the deafening explosions of guns and shells, coolly blew her bottom out and sank her, he and his crew just having time to scramble into their two boats as the steamer foundered. Wasn't that fine?" "Splendid!" I agreed, heartily. "And what became of that fine chap, Sosa, and his crew? Did they manage to escape?" "Sosa and three men of his boat's crew contrived, although they were all wounded, to pull out to our torpedo-boats, and were picked up," replied Ito. "But the Russians fired upon the other boat and destroyed her and her crew, despite Sosa's desperate efforts to save them. "The next ship to arrive was the _Sakura Maru_. She was about a mile and a half ahead of us in the _Totomi_, and we were able to see everything that happened to her. "I believe it was her opportune arrival that gave the gallant Sosa and his companions the chance to escape; because of course as soon as the _Sakura_ was seen, the Russian gunners gave all their attention to her. "It was a grand sight to see her--she was more than a thousand tons bigger than the _Mikawa_--rushing straight for the harbour's mouth at her utmost speed, with the water foaming about her bows, a thin stream of smoke and sparks issuing from her funnels, her whole hull, spars, rigging, and funnels standing up, a black silhouette, between us and the white beam of the searchlight, with shells exploding all about her, deluging her with foam, but apparently doing her no harm. She stood on, evidently under a full head of steam, for we could see `the white feather' at the top of her waste-pipes, until she reached the Pinnacle Rock; and there they anchored and sank her. She was manned almost entirely by cadets; and as an illustration of the consummate coolness with which they behaved, let me tell you that when the ship went down, they actually had the presence of mind to take flares aloft with them, which they burnt from the crosstrees, to guide us into the channel! "Of course the Russians fired upon them, and shot away first one mast and then the other. Then they were called upon to surrender, some of the Russians actually launching boats to take them off the floating wreckage; but the cadets were imbued with the true Samurai spirit, they preferred death to surrender, and they defended themselves with their revolvers from all who approached them, until every Japanese was slain. "Then came the turn of the _Totomi Maru_, we being the third ship to arrive. Well, I have not much to say about what we did, or what happened to us; it would be merely a repetition of what I have already described. Like our predecessors, we went in at full speed, struck some floating object two terrific blows just as we entered the channel, swept on, amid a hurricane of shells and bullets shrieking and whining about our ears, until we came to the wreck of the _Mikawa_, and there Honda-- who is about as cool a chap under fire as you are--stopped and reversed his engines, swung the ship athwart the channel, with our bows as close as we could guess to the _Mikawa's_ taffrail, let go two anchors, one ahead and one aft, and calmly sank the craft. "The Russians kept their searchlight upon us, and peppered us well with rifle-fire, until the _Totomi_ went down; and then they had other fish to honourably fry, as you English say; for the _Aikoku Maru_ was now racing in toward the harbour's mouth, and it was high time for them to attend to her. They turned the searchlight upon her, opened fire upon her with every weapon that would hurl a shot, and presently, when she was within about a thousand yards of the entrance, they fired an observation mine as she passed over it, and down she went, taking her engine-room and stoke-hold crew with her. "Then there ensued a `spell'--as you, my dear Swinburne, honourably call it--an interlude; possibly it was the end, for there were no more ships in sight; the firing died down, the searchlight beam stared steadily out to seaward, and we who had survived that saturnalia of slaughter had an opportunity to slip out and rejoin the torpedo-boats which were lurking close in under the shadow of the cliffs, waiting to pick us up. "Honda commanded the leading boat in which our party were making their escape, and I the other. We were both creeping along as close as possible to the foot of the cliffs under Golden Hill, in order to elude the notice of the Russians above; and Honda, with fourteen men, was about a quarter of a mile ahead. I had eleven men with me. "We had arrived at a point which I believed to be, rightly as the event proved, immediately beneath the fort, and I was staring contemplatively up at the face of the cliff which towered above us, when we came abreast of a sort of cleft in the rock, at the foot of which lay several big boulders in a great pile, some of which were in the water. Suddenly, the idea occurred to me that it might be possible for active men to climb that cleft; and acting upon the impulse of the moment, I put the boat's helm hard a-starboard and, giving the word `Easy all!' headed in toward the boulders. "A minute later, we found ourselves in a miniature harbour, just large enough to receive the boat, the big boulders forming a sort of breakwater. "`Men,' I said, `have all of you your revolvers and cutlasses with you?' "They answered that they had. `Then,' said I, `let us give those Russians, up above, a little surprise. I believe we can climb that cleft, and I, for one, am determined to try. Who goes with me?' "As I had quite anticipated, they all agreed to join me in the attempt; so, making fast the boat's painter to a rock, and leaving her to take care of herself, we scrambled out, and I honourably taking the lead, as was my right, up we went. It was a very difficult climb, in the semi-darkness, for the moon was hidden by clouds, and the way was so steep that we were obliged to push and pull each other up; but at length we reached the top, and then lay down in a little hollow to recover our breath. "The fort crowned the summit of a steep hill immediately in front of us. For fully five minutes I patiently examined it, and at the end of that time came to the conclusion that only by the rear could we hope to approach it undiscovered. Accordingly, I led my men round to the land side of the fort and, taking our time, that we might save our breath, we crept slowly up the slope until we reached not only the summit of the hill but actually the parapet of the fort itself. Peering over this, I was able to see that it was armed with eight 11-inch Canet guns; and there were, including the gun crews, at least a hundred men in the place, all of them intently staring out to seaward, evidently in momentary expectation of seeing more explosion ships arrive. "Had it been possible for us to have entered that fort at that moment, I would have led my men in, and we would have honourably died for the glory of Nippon, destroying as many of the enemy as we could before `going out' ourselves. But entry, at least swiftly enough to take the Russians by surprise, was not possible, the parapet being protected by substantial _chevaux de brise_ which we could neither have surmounted nor broken down without attracting attention; I was therefore obliged to content myself with giving them what you call a `scare.' Ranging my men in open order along the rear parapet, so that only their heads and their levelled revolvers could be seen, I loudly called upon the Russians to surrender! "My dear Swinburne, it was worth all the toil of that climb up the cliff, and up the steep slope of the hill, to behold the blank dismay of those Russians. It did not last long, though; to give them the credit due to them, they were brave fellows, and the moment they realised the situation, they simply laughed at us, regarding our exploit as a joke-- as indeed it was, more than anything else. "But the joke had its grim side, too; for the commandant immediately ordered his men to cover us with their rifles, and then ordered us to surrender. "`How are you going to take us?' I asked. "`Throw your revolvers over here to me,' he ordered; `and I will send out some men to conduct you to the town.' "`No,' I said. "`If you do not, I shall be compelled to shoot,' he said. "`Then, shoot, and be hanged to you,' I replied; and giving a sign to my men, we opened fire with our revolvers at the same moment that the Russians blazed away at us with their rifles. And not until every chamber of our revolvers was empty did we turn and race down that hill toward the head of the cleft by which we had ascended." "Did you suffer any loss?" I asked. "None at all," was the cheerful answer. "The bullets hummed about our ears like mosquitoes in the summer-time, but not one of us was even touched. On the other hand, I saw several Russians fall before our fire, and I think that at least thirty of them must have gone down before we turned and honourably `hooked it,' as you would say." I smiled. Good old Ito! He was a splendid fellow, honest as the day, utterly unassuming, brave as a lion, everything in short that a shipmate should be; but it was evident that the habit of introducing that favourite expression "honourable" in conjunction with a bit of British slang, was inveterate with him, and I felt that it would be a long time before he would be able to recognise its incongruity. "Well," I said. "What happened next?" "Oh, nothing, so far as we were concerned," he replied. "We scrambled down the cleft into our boat and pushed off, still keeping quite close to the foot of the cliffs, although there was a heavy sea rolling in and breaking upon them. And indeed it was high time for us to be off, for when we pulled out of our little harbour at the base of the cliff, the first light of dawn was showing along the horizon to the eastward. "Suddenly, the cannonading, which had completely died away, broke out furiously again from the heights above, and from the new batteries which have been built on the low ground higher up the harbour. At first we thought we had been seen, and that they were firing at us; but presently a steamer hove in sight to seaward, and we saw that the firing was directed at her and three others which followed her. These we presently recognised as the remaining explosion steamers, which had lost their way in the fog of the night before. "On they came, rushing toward the harbour at top speed, with a hurricane of shells of all sizes falling upon and about them, and the full glare of the searchlights shining full upon them. "The first of them to come I recognised as the _Edo Maru_, under the command of Commander Takayagi. She looked frightfully battered as she swept past us, yet she kept afloat and reached the spot for which she was aiming. Her engines stopped and reversed, and she was evidently preparing to anchor, when a shell struck poor Takayagi, who was standing on the port extremity of the bridge, and, almost cutting him in two, hit the funnel, and exploding blew a tremendous hole in it. Nagata--you know Lieutenant Nagata, I think--the second in command, who was also on the bridge, immediately took charge, anchored the ship, exploded the charges down in her hold, and, ordering away the boats, left her, just as she was sinking, the crew bringing away poor Takayagi's body with them. He is to be buried ashore here, this afternoon, with full military honours, of course. "The next steamer to come was the _Otaru Maru_. I think the fire directed upon her was even hotter than that which greeted the _Edo_. Shells fell all round her, but none of them seemed to hit her; and meanwhile she was replying briskly with her Hotchkisses. The din was terrific, for every battery that could bring a gun to bear was blazing away at her, while troops made their appearance on the cliffs above and rained bullets upon her deck; indeed a sort of panic seemed to have seized the Russians, for not only were they hurling hundreds of shells at the devoted _Otaru_, but were exploding observation mines everywhere, in the most reckless manner. But their most deadly weapon of all was their searchlight beam, which they directed right into the eyes of the helmsman and the officers on the bridge. Dazzled by its blinding brilliance, our people could not see where they were going; and instead of reaching her appointed station in the harbour, the _Otaru_ dashed at full speed upon the rocks. The crew, of course, took to the boats, but they were unfortunately in the full glare of the searchlight, and the Russian troops shot every one of them. "We were by this time about a mile out at sea, when we suddenly caught sight of a torpedo-boat hove-to, without lights, and rolling and pitching furiously not far away. Feeling sure that she must be Japanese, I hailed her, got a reply, and five minutes later was following my crew up the side of Number 65, being warmly welcomed by my friend, Lieutenant Taira, who was in command. "And now came a misfortune; for as I made a spring from our boat to the deck of the plunging Number 65, the sweeping ray of the Russian searchlight passed over us, returned, and rested inexorably upon us. Taira instantly gave the order to the engineers to go full speed ahead; but even before the engines could be started, a number of shells came hurtling about us, and one unfortunately passed through the boat's thin side and, without exploding, cut the steam pipe of Number 3 boiler. Of course the stoke-hold was instantly filled with high-pressure steam, and before the stokers could escape, three of them were scalded to death. It was horrible to hear their screams and at the same time to realise the impossibility of doing anything to save them. Luckily for us, Number 75, lying at no great distance, saw that we were in difficulties, and pluckily came to our rescue, taking us in tow and, despite the tremendous fire directed upon us both, dragging us out of range. "I was too busily engaged in helping to save Number 65 to see much of what further happened in connection with the attempt to `bottle up' the Russian fleet; but I have since learned that the _Sagami Maru_, which followed the _Otaru Maru_, was peculiarly unfortunate, in that she struck a mechanical mine, just outside the harbour, and went down with all hands. The last ship, the _Asagao Maru_, was scarcely less unfortunate; for a shell struck her rudder as she neared the harbour, and rendered her unmanageable, so that she went ashore close under Golden Hill, and her crew, refusing to surrender, were killed, to a man. "Just after this last happening, a fog came driving in from seaward and swallowed us all up, so that the Russians lost sight of us; and then the firing ceased. Shortly afterwards, our fast cruisers came looming up through the fog, to cover our retreat; and about nine o'clock in the morning Togo himself joined us with the battle squadron. He was most anxious to know the result of the night's operations; but, unfortunately, none of us could afford him more than mere disconnected snatches of information. I think I possessed more information than anybody else; but of course mine was by no means complete, and the Admiral was most anxious to know exactly how matters stood, for great things hinged upon the measure of our success; I therefore offered to take in a picket boat and attempt to obtain all the information required, and my offer was accepted. I steamed in under cover of the fog, which was so thick that it was impossible for us to see more than a few yards in any direction; so thick, indeed, that we actually found ourselves among the masts of the sunken craft before we really knew where we were. There were two or three shore boats groping about the wreckage already, but they took no notice of us, imagining, perhaps, that we belonged to one of their own ships; and we were therefore able to complete our examination and to definitely satisfy ourselves that at last the harbour was entirely blocked. Learning this, the Admiral wirelessed a message to General Oku, informing him that he could safely move, since the Russian ships were now effectually bottled up; and the result of that message is the fleet of transports that you see yonder. And now, my dear chap, I must be off; the doctor told me that I must on no account weary you by talking too much; and here have I been yarning for the last half-hour or more. Good-bye! Hope to see you about again soon." "Here, stop a moment, old chap," I cried. "Having told me so much, you may as well tell me the rest. Where is Oku going?" "Ah!" answered Ito. "That is a secret. But I think many of us could make a good guess, eh?" "If I were asked to guess, I should say, Pi-tse-wo," answered I. "And very probably, my dear Swinburne, you would be honourably correct," answered Ito, as he waved his hand and smilingly bowed himself out. A little later I was honoured by a visit from Togo himself, with whom I believed myself to be something of a favourite, although Togo's favouritism never took the form of sparing the favoured one, or giving him easy work to execute; on the contrary, the most infallible sign that a man was in the Admiral's favour was the assignment to him of some exceptionally difficult, arduous, or dangerous task. He had, of course, already heard of my adventure from Kamimura, but he wanted to hear the story from my own lips, and he also had several questions to ask me. He remained with me nearly an hour, and was most friendly and kind in his manner, expressing regret at my sufferings--such as they were--and the hope that I should soon be well enough to resume duty. To my surprise, the Admiral called again, somewhat late in the afternoon. He was very busy, he said, being engaged on the task of arranging for the convoy of General Oku's Second Army, consisting of 70,000 men, the task of whom was to assist in the reduction of Port Arthur. He expected to be away a full week, at least, possibly longer, and the object of his visit was to explain to me that, aboard the transports in harbour were all the materials for the construction of a great "boom," eight miles long, to be carried from the island of Kwang-lung-tau, the most westerly of the Elliot group, to the mainland. Similar booms had already been run from island to island of the group, and the new, big boom would render the rendezvous immune to attack from the land to the northward. His object in looking me up, now, was in connection with the construction of this new, big boom. It appeared that, after leaving me that morning, he had encountered the physician who had charge of the hospital, and that official had expressed the opinion that, in the course of the next three or four days, I might probably be sufficiently recovered to be discharged from the hospital, and be employed upon light duties, such as those of superintendence, or anything which did not involve personal exertion. That remark had suggested an idea to Togo, the result of which was his second call upon me, to inquire whether I knew anything about the construction of protective booms. As it happened, I did, having once been actively employed upon the construction of an experimental boom which was afterward stretched across the mouth of Portsmouth harbour. When, therefore, I told the Admiral this, with his usual directness of purpose he at once appointed me to superintend the construction of the long boom; his orders being that I was to remain in hospital until the doctors should discharge me; when I was to resume the command of the _Kasanumi_, and with her as flagship, proceed to the Elliot Islands, in charge of the torpedo flotilla which he would leave behind for that purpose, escorting the steamers into which he would tranship all the materials necessary for the construction of the long boom. And upon our arrival there, I was to discharge the steamers--or, rather, supervise the discharge of them, landing the materials at the most suitable spot I could find; and then, still supervising only, proceed with all celerity upon the construction of the boom. He briefly gave me his own ideas as to how the boom should be constructed, but left me with an entirely free hand to introduce any improvements that might suggest themselves to me, so far as the materials at my command would permit. The task was one that strongly appealed to me, for it gave some scope for the employment of a certain inventive faculty which I believed I possessed; and I undertook it with avidity. That evening, about half an hour before sunset, the transhipment of the materials for the boom having been effected, the transports containing Oku's Second Army got their anchors and started for Pi-tse-wo, escorted by a portion of the fleet under Togo, while the remaining portion, consisting of the light, fast cruisers and a detachment of destroyers, proceeded to Port Arthur, to make assurance doubly sure by keeping an eye upon the Russian ships there. I subsequently learned that the latter appeared to be quite inactive, although the sounds of frequent loud explosions proceeding from the harbour indicated that the Russians were already busily engaged upon the task of attempting to blast a passage through the obstructing wrecks. CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE RUSSIAN SUBMARINE. By dint of wheedling entreaty and the most lavish promises on my part that I would on no account attempt to do any actual work, I succeeded in inducing the doctor to discharge me from the hospital on the second day after the departure of the Admiral, with General Oku's transports, to Pi-tse-wo. I was discharged shortly after eleven o'clock in the morning, and was conveyed in a hand ambulance down to the landing-place, where my boat was waiting for me, having been semaphored for, the instant that I obtained my discharge. I was glad to find myself aboard my own little ship once more; and the crew seemed to be as glad to see me as I was to see them; for it appeared that during my absence the _Kasanumi_ had been employed upon nothing but patrol work, which was not at all to the taste of my lads. Young Hiraoka, my lieutenant, seemed keenly disappointed when he learned that our most exciting work, for some time to come, was to be the construction of the long boom; but philosophically remarked that no doubt as soon as the Russians learned what we were about, we should have a few of their destroyers paying us a call, when we might hope for a little fun. By the time that I got aboard, it was noon; and I at once signalled the transports, asking how soon they could be ready to start. The reply was that, not expecting to be called upon to go to sea so soon, their fires were all out--but boilers were full and fires laid, and they could have steam in three hours; whereupon I made the signal to light fires at once, and report when they were ready to move. Then I got into a reclining chair under the awning aft, and, having partaken of a hasty luncheon, treated myself to a snooze, since I expected to be up all night. We all got under way shortly after three o'clock in the afternoon, and, having cleared the harbour, headed away north-west for the Elliot group. The weather was, for a wonder, beautifully fine, no fog, very few clouds, brilliant sunshine, very little wind, and the water as smooth as a mill pond; consequently we made very good progress, although the speed of the slowest transport was only ten knots, and of course the rest of us had to regulate our pace by hers. Had the weather been threatening I should of course have been anxious, but the barometer stood high, and as even at ten knots the passage would only occupy about thirteen hours, I felt quite easy in my mind. The trip across the Yellow Sea was made without mishap or adventure until we arrived within about twelve miles of our destination. The night was still gloriously fine, the water smooth, the stars brilliant, and the moon, within about an hour of setting, hung in the western sky, spreading a broad path of silver on the surface of the gently heaving sea. It was a few minutes after four bells in the middle watch when, having been dozing for some time in my chair, which had been taken up to the bridge for my convenience, I scrambled to my feet and began to pace to and fro, for I was feeling somewhat chilly, although wrapped in a good warm ulster. The beauty of the night fascinated me. It was so calm and peaceful, and the air, although a trifle cool, was yet bland, as though it were a breath of the coming summer; and, looking back upon what we had been called upon to endure of storm and darkness, and bitter, numbing cold and wet, I rejoiced that summer was at hand, hoping that, before winter came again, there would be peace, and that our nightly buffetings by arctic winds, hail, snow, and icy seas would be at an end. As these thoughts passed through my mind, my gaze fixed itself contemplatively on the broad path of silver--now imperceptibly changing to liquid gold--cast upon the surface of the sea by the setting moon; and, as I gazed, I gradually became aware of a tiny black object, about a mile away, on our port bow, rising and falling with the lazy heave of the swell. In that mine-strewn sea the smallest and least conspicuous floating object demanded one's instant and most careful attention, and whipping my binoculars out of the case, strapped to the bridge rail, I quickly focused them upon it. Through the glasses it looked very like the top of a ship's galley funnel, though not quite so stout, and it was moving as though to cross our hawse, for with the help of the glasses I could see the little ripple of scintillating foam it piled up before it. I knew in an instant what it was, for I had seen submarines before, and at once recognised the slender object forging through the water out yonder as the upper portion of a submarine's periscope. Of course she had seen us, probably a good half-hour before, or she would not be submerged; and the course she was steering indicated that she was bent upon mischief. I congratulated myself upon having sighted her in good time before entering her danger zone, for the _Kasanumi_ was about a mile ahead of the main body of our little fleet, and I felt that I should have time to deal with her before the others came up. The question was: would she attack the destroyer, or would she allow us to pass and reserve her energies for the transports, under the impression that they were carrying troops? It was impossible to guess, and it would never do to take any chance; I therefore pointed out the periscope to young Hiraoka, told him what it was, and then ordered him to go down quietly, have the hands called, and get all guns loaded. The thought of trying to get in a torpedo before the Russian discharged hers, occurred to me; but I decided against it, as some of our torpedoes had a trick of running erratically. Meanwhile, we continued to potter along at ten knots, as though we had seen nothing and had not so much as the ghost of a suspicion that submarines were in our neighbourhood. There was but one, so far as I could see; and indeed until that moment we never suspected the Russians of having any in those seas, although vague rumours--which we had never been able to substantiate--had reached us of submarines having been brought overland to Port Arthur from Petersburg in sections. With my eyes glued to my binoculars, and my binoculars focused steadily upon that small pole-like object protruding a bare two feet above that shimmering, silvery sheen of water, I directed the signalman near me to ring down the order to the engine-room to "Stand by"; and then to fetch our wireless operator to me. In a few words I explained the situation to this youngster, when he came, and gave him his orders, while the sounds of Hiraoka's preparations came to my ears. Suddenly, as I watched the periscope every moment becoming more distinct, I noticed that the ripple of foam about it was steadily lessening, and presently it disappeared altogether. The submarine had evidently stopped her engines, and was lying in wait, either to torpedo us as we passed, or to permit us to pass on unsuspecting, and then get in her work upon the transports. It was a bit of luck which I had not dared to hope for, and I instantly made my plans. Steadily the _Kasanumi_ held on, as though utterly unsuspecting, steering a course which, if continued, would take us athwart the submarine's hawse at a distance of about three hundred yards, or less than half the effective range of her torpedo. Was she stealthily altering her position under water, turning her bows toward us, so as to torpedo us the moment we should arrive within range, or was she trusting that her presence was undetected, and waiting patiently for the moment when we should cross her bows as she lay? The latter, I believed, for she could not cant toward us without going either ahead or astern, and she could not do either without her periscope raising a ripple; and I was certain that nothing of that sort had happened. I determined to risk something, after all, to put that submarine out of action, and so held steadily on. At length we arrived so close that I could see the periscope almost as distinctly without the glasses as with them, and still intently watching it, I laid my hand on the engine-room telegraph, carefully estimating the steadily decreasing distance which separated us from moment to moment. Six hundred yards. Five hundred. Four-fifty. Four hundred. I crashed the telegraph handles over to "Full speed ahead!" on both engines, and never moving my eyes for an instant from the periscope, directed the helmsman to steer straight for it. The submarine was lying motionless and inert there, some fifteen feet beneath the surface; and I calculated that it would take the Russians at least half a minute to realise that they were discovered, and to get way upon their craft; and by that time we should be so close to them that it would be impossible for them either to dive or to turn the submarine bows on to us, much less to escape. Then, as I felt the destroyer leap forward beneath me, like a spirited horse at the cut of a whip, I blew my whistle, as a signal to "Sparks," who instantly wirelessed back to the main body to stop until further orders, and to keep a sharp lookout for submarines. Like a greyhound slipped from the leash, the _Kasanumi_ rushed at that luckless periscope, about which a few bubbles of foam were just beginning to gather at the moment when our stem, towering over it, hid it from my sight. The next instant our hull swept over it and of course snapped it clean off, although we felt no shock whatever, for our draught of water was too light for our keel to reach the submarine's conning tower. But by the loss of her periscope the craft was effectually blinded, and now she was at our mercy, for she _must_ come to the surface, sooner or later, while, so smooth was the water, the swirl or wake of her as she forged ahead was clearly perceptible, and all we now had to do was to follow her until she rose, and then take or sink her. As I lost sight of the periscope, I rang down to stop and reverse both engines, at the same time ordering our helm hard a-port. Then, as we checked and lost way, we went ahead, first on our port engine and then on both, at the same time shifting our helm, so as to get into the wake of the submarine. We managed to do this before quite losing sight of the disturbance made by her passage through the water; and, this done, we regulated our pace by hers, maintaining a distance of about fifty fathoms between her and ourselves. She shifted her helm several times in an evident attempt to baffle pursuit; but, thanks to the tell-tale swirl she raised, we were able to follow her; and at length, after a chase of about three-quarters of an hour, she rose to the surface, the watertight door of her tower opened, and a man's head appeared. He looked greatly astonished to see us within a biscuit-toss of him, and instantly ducked out of sight, leaving the hatch open, however, and we heard him shouting something to some one in the boat's interior. A few seconds later another head appeared, stared at us fixedly for a few seconds--during which young Hiraoka, who had a very fair knowledge of Russian, hailed him to surrender--and he, too, disappeared. Then, while we were patiently awaiting further developments, the submarine, which was still going ahead, suddenly inclined her bows and, before we could do anything, _dived with her hatch open_! The brave fellows who manned her, evidently taking a leaf out of their opponents' book, had chosen death rather than surrender, and had deliberately plunged to the bottom rather than yield their vessel to us! For, of course, the craft was never seen again, nor did any of her crew come to the surface, although we hove-to for an hour or more, and got our boat out in readiness to pick up any one who might escape from that steel coffin. I was quite prepared to hear a loud cheer of exultation burst from the lips of my crew when they realised what had happened. But no. There is nothing that the Japanese admire more than courage; and such a deliberate act of devoted self-sacrifice for the honour of one's country and flag as they had just beheld, called forth merely a low-spoken murmur of intense, almost envious praise. We arrived at our destination without further adventure, and dropped anchor in the roadstead just as the sun rose above the horizon, flooding the rocky shores of the Elliots with gold, and were heartily greeted by the few craft which we found lying at anchor there. Looking back upon our adventure with the Russian submarine, I could not help regarding it as almost providential that we had encountered her; for I think there can be very little doubt that when we fell in with her she must have been on her way to the Elliot archipelago, where, had she arrived safely, she might have found more than one spot in which she could have lain _perdu_, to emerge at a favourable moment and destroy at least one, if not more, of our most precious battleships. Giving orders for the immediate discharge of the materials for the boom, at a spot which I selected immediately after we had come to an anchor, I turned in and slept soundly until past midday, resting again all the afternoon; so that when evening came I had quite recovered from the fatigue of the previous night, and was pronounced by the doctor in charge of the hospital ashore to be progressing toward complete recovery quite as rapidly as could be reasonably expected, while my wound was healing in fine style. About four o'clock that afternoon, word was brought to me that the whole of the materials intended for the construction of the boom had been landed; and I went ashore to inspect them. They consisted for the most part of enormous balks of timber and massive cables; but there were also immense quantities of chain to serve as lashings, stout staples, iron bars, innumerable bundles of long, massive, pointed spikes, and thousands of empty casks, stoutly hooped, without bung-holes, and coated with pitch to ensure permanent watertight-ness. Commander Tsuchiya, whom I had placed in charge of the discharging operations, had done his work well, stacking the various items each by itself, and keeping a careful account of the quantities of each. He handed me a copy of his list, and after I had inspected the whole of the material, I returned to my ship and sat down to plan out the details of the construction of the boom, which, with the list of the quantities before me, was a comparatively easy task. Dawn of the following day found us all ready to make a start, and with Tsuchiya again as my principal _aide_, we quickly got to work, pressing every available hand into the service. Many hands make light and quick work, especially where those hands are willing, but I was astonished at the ardour and zest which those handy little Japanese seamen manifested; they toiled untiringly all through that long, hot day, with the result that, when we knocked off at nightfall, we had considerably more than half a mile of that boom put together and secured in position by ponderous anchors and stout chain cables. We were hard at work upon the boom again when, during the afternoon of the following day, our battle fleet returned from Pi-tse-wo, after covering the landing of General Oku's army. The fleet steamed in between the islands and Cape Terminal on the mainland, toward which we were running the boom; and my friend Ijichi, the skipper of the _Mikasa_, told me, with a laugh, that when the little Admiral first saw the boom and made out what it was, he could hardly credit his eyes. He had been under the impression that I was still in hospital, and would probably not be able to get to work for a week or more. Yet there I was, as large as life, in a picket boat, with my head still swathed in a bandage, superintending operations, and clearly recognisable with the assistance of a pair of binoculars. And when at the close of the day I went aboard the flagship to report myself, Togo did not hesitate to let me understand how intensely gratified he was at the progress which we had made. Meanwhile, I was fast progressing toward complete recovery; and on the day following the return of the fleet to the Elliots, the bandage was removed from my head, and I was pronounced to be practically all right once more. And, to add to my gratification, a destroyer arrived from Sasebo, bringing mails for the fleet, among which were no less than three delightful letters from my friends the Gordons, at home, and two, equally delightful, from my Sasebo friends, Mr Boyd and his wife. Those from the Gordons were full of congratulations; for I gathered from them that a long and circumstantial account of our second attempt to seal up Port Arthur harbour had appeared in the home newspapers, in which somewhat conspicuous mention was made of my doings, and my friends were delighted to learn that I was "so successfully maintaining the finest traditions of the British Navy," as they were kindly pleased to put it. My chum, Ronald, was particularly chirpy about it, expressing in no measured terms the wish that he could have been with me, while he informed me that, notwithstanding the painful circumstances under which I had left the _Terrible_--and the British Navy--the officers of that ship, with only one or two exceptions, had expressed their gratification, while several of them, whom he named, had desired him to convey to me their congratulations and good wishes. During the next day or two excellent progress was made with the construction of the long boom; and then came a spell of bad weather which, although it did not hinder the putting together of the sections of the boom, in the smooth water of the anchorage, rendered it impossible for us to tow them out and splice them to the portion already in position. But although the bad weather greatly delayed us in this way, we did not altogether regret it, for the heavy sea kicked up by the gales afforded a splendid test of that portion of the boom already in place, and we were greatly gratified, as we steamed out day after day to examine it, to find that it had not been damaged or displaced in the smallest degree. It was toward the end of the third week of May that the Admiral signalled me to proceed on board the flagship. It was late in the afternoon of a thoroughly wretched day; the wind had been blowing hard from the south'ard for the past three or four days, with almost incessant rain, and there was a very heavy sea running between the islands and the main. I had just returned from my second inspection of the boom that day, and I naturally thought that the signal indicated a desire on the part of the Admiral to question me in relation to the stability of the structure. And when I entered his cabin, and he greeted me with the question: "Well, Captain Swinburne, how is the boom standing the sea, out yonder?" I was confirmed in my opinion. But I presently found that I was mistaken; for when I had told him all that there was to tell about the boom, and he had expressed his satisfaction, he said: "By the way, it is Commander Tsuchiya who has been your chief assistant in this work, is it not?" I replied in the affirmative. "And I suppose he understands the whole business pretty well by this time, eh?" the Admiral continued. "Every bit as well as I do, sir," I answered, seeming to scent other work for myself at no great distance. "That is good," commented Togo. "Do you think he would be capable of completing the work without further assistance from you?" "Undoubtedly he would, sir," I replied. "Indeed, I think it right to say that, after the first day, Commander Tsuchiya required no help or suggestion of any kind from me at all. He seemed to perfectly understand the principle of the boom's construction, almost from the very beginning; and after the first day's work upon it he took the entire supervision into his own hands, leaving me nothing whatever to do but merely to look on and satisfy myself by personal observation that the work was being properly done." "Which it was, I presume?" remarked the Admiral. "Which it certainly was, sir," I replied. "Good!" said Togo. "That being the case, you are free for another service. How would you like the chance to get a little fighting ashore, by way of a change?" "Jove!" I exclaimed, "that would be splendid, sir. Are you going to land a naval brigade anywhere?" "Well--no," answered the Admiral, "hardly that, I think; at least, that is not my present intention, although circumstances may possibly render it desirable, eventually. The matter stands thus,"--turning to the table where a map of the Liaotung peninsula lay unfolded upon it. "This,"--pointing to a certain spot on the map--"is where General Oku landed, the other day, with his army. And this,"--pointing to another spot--"is where he is now. His object of course is to march south and lay siege to Port Arthur. But at this point, some two and a half miles south of Kinchau, which, as I suppose you know, is a Chinese walled city, the isthmus is only about two miles wide; and in and about the city the Russians have established themselves in force, prepared, apparently, to dispute Oku's passage of the isthmus to the last man. "This mountain, so prominently marked on the map, is Mount Sampson. It is more than two thousand feet in height and, as you will readily understand, dominates the entire district. Upon this mountain the Russians very strongly established themselves, scarping the heights and constructing formidable breastworks behind which to shelter themselves. Of course it was necessary for our troops to take this mountain, since, until that could be done, to pass the isthmus would be impossible. I am glad to learn that the mountain is now in our hands. "But here, just to the south of Kinchau, is another range of hills, known as the Nanshan Heights. They form a sort of backbone to the isthmus, and occupy almost its entire width, their crests completely commanding the narrow strip of low ground on either side. On these heights, too, the Russians have very strongly established themselves; so that although Mount Sampson is in our hands, the isthmus remains impassable. The unfortunate fact, so far as we are concerned, is that General Oku has no heavy artillery with him, otherwise he would be able to shell the Nanshan Heights from Mount Sampson, and drive the Russians out. But he has only field and mountain guns, of a range insufficient for that purpose; therefore he has requisitioned help from me, and I propose to send some craft round to Kinchau Bay, to shell the Russian positions from the sea." "Kinchau Bay, sir?" I interrupted. "Pardon me, but the water in Kinchau Bay is so shallow, according to the chart, that I am afraid any of our craft capable of carrying guns heavy enough to be of service would have very great difficulty in approaching the land near enough to be of any real use. Why not Hand Bay, sir, on the eastern side of the isthmus?" "For the very good reason, my dear fellow, that not only is Hand Bay mined, but it would also be impossible for us to clear it, the bay being completely commanded by works which our craft could not face for five minutes. No, it must be Kinchau Bay; there is nothing else for it," answered the Admiral. "That being the case," he continued, "it is my intention to dispatch thither the _Akagi, Chokai, Hei-yen_, and _Tsukushi_ to afford the assistance required by General Oku; and those ships will be accompanied by a torpedo flotilla, the duty of which will be to take soundings, lay down a line of buoys inside which the ships must not pass, and search for and clear the bay of mines, as well as to render such further assistance as may be possible to the land forces. "I anticipate that the work required of the torpedo flotilla will be of an exceptionally arduous and hazardous character; and for that reason, Captain Swinburne, I am going to place it under your command, with the _Kasanumi_ as your flagship. I have been keeping my eye upon you, sir, and I will take this opportunity to express my very high appreciation of your conduct. You have manifested all the dash, the fertility of resource, and the cool courage under exceedingly trying conditions which we have grown to look for as a matter of course from Englishmen; and to that you add an element of caution which I fear we Japanese have not as fully developed as we ought to have done; I therefore regard you as the fittest man I could possibly select for the service upon which I now propose to employ you. That also is the reason why I have so fully explained to you the situation at Kinchau, for it is very necessary that you should clearly understand all that may be required of you. "We have, of course, any number of Japanese officers whose courage would be quite equal to the task I am assigning to you, but they unfortunately lack that element of caution which you possess, in proof of which it will be my painful duty to presently announce a series of terrible disasters, news of which has just reached me, and three of which, at least, I am afraid I must attribute to a lack of caution." "Indeed, sir," I said; "I am exceeding sorry to hear that. Is it permissible to ask particulars?" "Oh yes," answered the Admiral, with a heavy sigh. "I should not have mentioned the matter to you at all, but for the fact that it must very soon have come to your ears in any case. Within three days, sir, we have lost six war vessels, while a seventh, the _Kasuga_, has been temporarily put out of action. And of the six lost ships, Captain, two are battleships, the _Hatsuse_ and the _Yashima_!" "The _Hatsuse_ and the _Yashima_! Good heavens! sir. Is it possible?" I exclaimed. "It is more than possible," answered Togo, with another heavy sigh, "it is a disastrous fact. And in addition to those two ships, we have also lost the _Yoshino_, fortunately not one of our best fast cruisers. Oh! it is terrible, terrible! And all three disasters have occurred to-day, within a very short space of time. The news reached me by wireless in the interval between my sending for you and your arrival. "It appears that while the _Yoshino, Takasago, Chitose, Kasagi_, and _Kasuga_ were to the westward of Port Arthur this morning, just after dawn, they ran into a patch of dense fog, while steaming through which, the lookout aboard the _Yoshino_ sighted a floating mine a short distance ahead. Thereupon the officer in charge seems to have temporarily lost his presence of mind, for instead of sheering out of the line, as it seems to me he might have done, and so avoided the mine, he instantly stopped and reversed his engines, without warning the _Kasuga_, which was his next astern. The inevitable result of course was that the _Kasuga_ struck the _Yoshino_ heavily, making such a terrible rent in her side that, in spite of collision mats, she speedily filled, capsized, and sank, drowning over two hundred of her crew. The _Kasuga_, badly damaged, is on her way hither, and may be expected to arrive some time to-night. "That disaster, however, serious as it is, is nothing compared with the loss of the _Hatsuse_ and _Yashima_, which occurred shortly after midday. Little did we dream, as they steamed away from here, this morning, that we should never see them again! It happened about ten miles south of Port Arthur, the two ships striking mines within a few minutes of each other. The _Hatsuse_ appears to have struck two mines, the second of which completed her destruction, for she foundered in less than two minutes after the second explosion occurred. I understand that considerably more than half her crew have gone down with her. "There were hopes at first that the _Yashima_ might be saved, as collision mats were got over her damaged bows and the steam pumps were started, while she headed for here under her own steam, with the rest of the squadron in company; but the latest news is to the effect that she cannot possibly be kept afloat, and that her crew are being taken off. Well, it is the fortune of war, I suppose, and it is useless to murmur; we cannot hope to always have things go well with us, reverses _will_ happen occasionally; and I am afraid that we have been growing just a little too careless and over-confident of late. We must take the lesson to heart and see that it does not again happen. But it is a paralysing blow for us. "And now, to return to the matter which more immediately concerns you, Captain. I have given you the earliest possible warning of what I am going to ask you to do, in order that you may have an opportunity to think over the situation and make your plans. I want you to be ready to start at practically a moment's notice; but I shall not dispatch the squadron until I have further news from Oku, which may arrive at any minute." As it happened, however, although a communication arrived from Oku the next day, it was a full week before we got our orders; for a careful reconnaissance revealed that very important preparations would be necessary before it would be possible to take Kinchau, or storm the Nanshan Heights. Just about sunset the _Shikishima_, with her attendant cruisers, hove in sight, and before they were hull-up it was possible for us to distinguish that the _Yashima_ was not among them. She had gone down off Dalny--in shallow water, fortunately--but not until every man had been safely taken out of her. The other losses to which the Admiral had referred were torpedo-boat Number 48, and the dispatch boat _Mikayo_, both of which had come to grief, the one on 12th May, and the other two days later, through striking mines in Kerr Bay, some thirty miles to the north-east of Port Arthur. Torpedo-boats Numbers 46 and 48, it appeared, were engaged in sweeping for mines when the accident happened. They had already found and destroyed three mines, and had discovered a fourth, which they fired several rounds at without result. Then Number 48 imprudently approached the mine with the intention of securing it, when it exploded, blowing her in two, and killing or wounding fourteen of her crew of twenty-three. It was two days later when the _Mikayo_, believing the bay to be clear, entered it to make sure. She was passing in through the channel supposed to have been cleared by our torpedo-boats, when she, too, struck a mine; there was a terrific explosion, and she went to the bottom, with eight casualties in her crew of two hundred. She was a useful little ship, having a speed of over sixteen knots when she was destroyed, although she had been known to achieve as much as twenty. She mounted two forty-sevens and ten 3-pounders, and was therefore not a very formidable fighting craft. The story told by the Russians concerning her destruction was to the effect that she fell a victim to a mine, placed overnight, in the channel previously cleared by our boats, by a young Russian naval officer, who stole out from Port Arthur in a small steam launch, under the cover of night. Whether the story is true or not, I cannot tell, yet there is nothing very improbable about it, for it is indisputable that many of the Russians displayed as fine a courage as even the Japanese themselves. CHAPTER TWELVE. AT WORK IN KINCHAU BAY. Meanwhile, I was spending my days poring over the maps and charts of Kinchau and its neighbourhood with which I had been supplied, leaving Commander Tsuchiya to carry on the work of constructing the long boom, and merely visiting it in a picket boat at the close of each day, to see how the work was progressing. My study of the maps and charts had reference to a scheme which had come into my head whereby it might be possible to determine the ranges of the several Russian positions from certain fixed points in the bay with the utmost accuracy, thereby greatly increasing the effectiveness of the naval fire when our flotilla should be called into action. The map in particular which had been issued to me was drawn upon a scale so large that even comparatively insignificant distances could be closely measured upon it, and it was so full of detail that apparently every building, however unimportant, was marked upon it; also it was "contoured"--that is to say, it was covered all over with wavy lines, each of which represented a definite height above sea-level. With such a map before me it was of course the easiest matter imaginable to determine the position of all the most salient points of the landscape, of which there were several, and--assuming the map to be correctly drawn--to measure the distances of these from one another. With such a bountiful fund of at least approximately accurate information for a starting-point it was a simple matter for me to fix upon a number of points in the bay--as many as I chose, in fact--which could be clearly indicated by buoys bearing different coloured flags, the positions of which could be accurately determined by cross bearings; and my plan was, first to lay down these buoys and determine their positions, and then mark them on maps, a copy of which would be handed to each captain, from which, by the employment of a scale and a pair of dividers, he could immediately measure off with precision the exact range of any object desired. Having at length arranged my scheme on the map to my liking, I proceeded with it aboard the _Mikasa_, and submitted it to the Admiral, who, with Captain Ijichi, the Commander, and several of the officers of the ship, examined it with the utmost interest, asking me several questions in connection with it. When I had fully explained the scheme, they all agreed that it was an admirable idea, and would undoubtedly be of the utmost value--_if_ it could only be carried out. Togo was of opinion that it could not; I, on the contrary, was convinced that it could; and at length I managed to get the Admiral's somewhat reluctant consent to make the experiment. Armed with this, I went ashore and, making my way to the carpenter's shop which formed part of our shore establishment among the islands, ordered a certain number of small triangular rafts to be made, of a size just sufficient to support a bamboo staff ten feet long, to the top of which a flag six feet long by three feet wide was to be firmly lashed, the flags to be of different colours, arranged in pairs. The rafts were constructed merely of rough timber stoutly nailed together, while the flags, being only required to last a day or two, as we hoped, were made of coloured calico, the edges turned over and hemmed with a sewing-machine, that they might not fray or tear. A couple of hours' work sufficed to complete my small requisition, with which I returned to the _Kasanumi_. It was within half an hour of sunset when I got aboard with my boatload of miscellaneous paraphernalia; and as the torpedo flotilla always kept steam while at the Elliots, excepting when it became necessary to clean flues or boilers, we at once got our anchor and proceeded to sea at a speed of twenty knots. I was bound round to Kinchau Bay, the distance of which from the Elliot group, by sea, was about one hundred and thirteen sea miles; I therefore reckoned on arriving at my destination about midnight, which would suit me admirably. The moon was in her third quarter, and was due to rise, that night, at a few minutes after one o'clock, which would also suit me excellently. For a wonder, the night was fine, with a light air out from about south-east; there was no sea, and not much swell, and as the destroyer was running well within herself, we went along quite easily and comfortably, and I seized the opportunity to snatch a few hours' sleep, leaving the navigation of the boat to my chief officer, who was quite equal to the task. The trip was uneventful, and at midnight Lieutenant Hiraoka aroused me with the intimation that we were standing into Kinchau Bay, and were already near enough to the land to enable the watch-fires on the hills to be made out; I accordingly turned out and went on deck to take a look round. I had studied my maps so exhaustively that, dark though the night was, I was able without difficulty to identify the various heights in sight, of which Mount Sampson was by far the most conspicuous; the general appearance of the land, indeed, was remarkably like what I had already mentally pictured it to be, and I seemed to be gazing on quite familiar ground. We were of course running without lights, and there was hardly a ghost of a chance of our being seen, but I eagerly searched the bay for craft, and was gratified to find that it was empty. But if there were no craft, there might be a good many mines; therefore in order to avoid all possible risk we crossed the bay to its northern shore, keeping well out, and then, going dead slow and feeling our way with the lead, we hugged the northern shore line as closely as the depth of water would permit, until we arrived abreast a little indentation, or cove, when the engines were stopped, the boat lowered, and, with my revolvers in my belt, but no sword, a pocketful of cartridges, a water bottle, a wallet of provisions, an azimuth compass, and a box sextant, I was pulled ashore and landed in the cove, the boat immediately returning to the destroyer, which soon vanished in the darkness, making for the offing. There were some half-dozen small, crazy-looking fishing-boats drawn up on the beach of the cove, and, groping about, I presently found a footpath leading somewhere inland. This I cautiously followed for a little distance until the crow of a wakeful cock and the bark of a dog warned me that I was at no great distance from a human dwelling of some sort, when I struck off the path and waded through a field of millet, heading north-west for the summit of a hill which I easily recognised, even in the dark, as one of the points from which I purposed to take my set of observations. My more immediate anxiety, however, was to get away from the neighbourhood of all human habitations, for although I knew pretty well, in a general way, where the Russians might be expected to be found, there was always the possibility of running unexpectedly into a small detachment of them, or of encountering some Korean peasant who might be disposed to betray me, upon the off-chance of securing a reward for so doing. The low ground at the foot of the range of hills for which I was heading was all cultivated, as well as the lower slopes, but, higher up, the ground was covered pretty thickly with scrub, with here and there a few patches of fir trees; and when once I got among these I felt that I was fairly safe, for I imagined that nobody would be likely to have any business up there, while in the disturbed state of the country nobody would be likely to wander there for pleasure. By the time that I reached the lower margin of the belt of scrub, the moon, one-half of her in shadow, had crept up above the crest of Mount Sampson, and the whole of the country round about me was flooded with her dim, ghostly light, with the help of which I was able to make out the small walled city of Kinchau, planned in the form of a square, each side measuring about half a mile long; the Japanese position in the valley to the south of it; and a few of the Russian positions on the Nanshan Heights; I was also able to definitely reassure myself as to my own position. The point for which I was aiming was about three miles north of the little cove in which I had landed, and the intervening ground was rugged, with many outcrops of rough, jagged rock, and much overgrown with thick, tangled scrub; the "going," therefore, was a bit toilsome, but that did not greatly matter to me, for the night air was distinctly raw, I was none too thickly clad, and the exertion kept me warm. When I reached the belt of fir wood that seemed to completely encircle the range of heights which I was climbing, the obscurity was such that it was only with the utmost difficulty I was able to make any headway at all; and at length, coming to a spot where the grass was exceptionally thick and dry, feeling somewhat fatigued with my unwonted exertions, I flung myself down for a short rest, and before I knew what was happening, fell fast asleep. I awoke, chill and cramped, at the sound of a distant bugle call, to find that the sky over the summit of Mount Sampson was just paling to the approach of dawn. I therefore scrambled to my feet, much refreshed by my nap, and resumed my climb, eager to get a glimpse of my surroundings with the first of the daylight; for I had a great deal to do, and not very much time in which to do it. A quarter of an hour of brisk walking brought me to the upper edge of the fir wood, and there before me, scarcely a mile distant, stood the peak which I had chosen as the starting-point for my operations. I had been guided by the map in my selection of it, for the contours showed me that, apart from Mount Sampson, it was one of the most lofty elevations in the neighbourhood, and also that it rose somewhat abruptly to a small, well-defined point. My first glance at it assured me that, so far at least, my map spoke truly, for the summit appeared to consist of a rocky knoll, the highest point of which was a short, stunted, conical mass, the top of which seemed scarcely capable of affording standing room. Nothing could possibly have been better for my purpose, and I hurried forward and upward, eager now to get at my work. I will not afflict the reader by attempting to describe in detail my plan of operations, for it involved a mathematical problem of some complexity, only interesting to and comprehensible by a mathematician. Suffice it to say that what I had undertaken to do was to make three separate sets of observations from as many chosen points, consisting of carefully observed compass bearings, and angles taken with my pocket sextant; and the taking of these observations, and the travelling from one point to another, kept me so busy all day that I was scarcely able to find time to snatch a couple of hurried meals while walking from one point to another. I was not interfered with by anybody, for, with two opposing armies facing each other at close quarters, the population seemed scarcely inclined to venture out of doors. Of course I saw plenty of armed men, both Russians and our own troops, moving about in the plain which surrounds Kinchau, and there was a considerable amount of desultory firing going on; but it was not until well on in the afternoon that I came into close proximity of any of the troops, and that was when it became necessary for me to cross a road leading into Kinchau from the north. Along this road armed Russians, singly, in twos and threes, and often in large bodies, were passing to and fro; and I lost nearly an hour of valuable time waiting for an opportunity merely to cross that road unseen. However, I managed it at last, and reached my final observation point just in time to satisfactorily finish my work before night fell and the light failed me. And now my next task was to somehow make my way back to the cove in which I had landed some eighteen hours earlier. To do this it was necessary for me to recross the road where I had been held up during the afternoon; but now the darkness was in my favour, and I succeeded in getting across with scarcely any delay, arriving at the cove safely, with a good hour to spare. It was a weary waiting for the boat which was due to come for me at midnight, for I was very tired after my unusual exertions throughout the day, and would gladly have slept. But that would not do; for to have slept would have exposed me to the double risk of being surprised, and of missing my boat; I was therefore by no means sorry when, about midnight, I heard the low whistle which announced her arrival. To step lightly into her and murmur the order to shove off was the work of a moment, and half an hour later I was again safely aboard the _Kasanumi_, to the great joy of young Hiraoka, who, it appeared, had been all day haunted with the fear that I might fall into the hands of the Russians. And now, weary as I was, there were at least two hours' work before me, with pencil, paper, protractor, parallel ruler, and scale, making calculations and laying down upon map and chart the result of my observations. This result was, on the whole, eminently satisfactory, for although I discovered a few trifling errors in the map, here and there, my observations enabled me to correct them; and when I had at length finished, map and chart were in a condition which would enable me to proceed with the second part of my task with the assurance of success. This accomplished, I retired to my cabin with an easy mind, and slept the sleep of the just until midday. A salt-water douche on deck for a few minutes, skilfully administered by a laughing Japanese seaman, and a brisk rub down with a rough towel left me fresh and invigorated, quite ready for a meal and the work which still lay ahead of me. The first part of this consisted in laying down upon the chart a number of positions corresponding with the varying draughts of water of the several units which the Admiral was detailing to assist General Oku in his operations against the Russian forces who were barring his passage of the Kinchau isthmus. The laying down of the positions above referred to was a task demanding a considerable amount of thought and care, for it was important that the ships should approach the shore as nearly as possible, otherwise their guns might be out-ranged, while, on the other hand, they must not be permitted to approach too near, or they would be exposed to the risk of being left aground on a falling tide. Also it was imperative that the berths chosen for them should be so situated as to enable them to afford the maximum amount of possible assistance. I devoted the entire afternoon to the consideration of this question, and at length fixed upon a series of positions which seemed to me to answer all requirements as nearly as the tidal conditions would allow. My next task was to accurately fix these several positions by as complete a series of cross bearings as possible; having accomplished which, there was nothing more to be done until after midnight. Meanwhile, the _Kasanumi_, with her engines stopped, was lying hove-to some sixty miles to the westward of Kinchau, in the Gulf of Liaotung, waiting for nightfall. At four bells in the first watch we got under way and started to run east at a speed of twenty knots, for I had now to complete my entire plan by placing the buoys, or triangular rafts which I had provided for the purpose, in the positions in Kinchau Bay which I had already selected for them and marked upon the chart. Too anxious for the complete success of my scheme to be able to sleep, I had ordered a deck chair to be brought up from below, and was sitting in this on our little navigating bridge, with a midshipman named Uchida, who had been detailed for service with me, pacing softly to and fro from port to starboard, keeping the lookout; and the cold night air was beginning to produce a pleasantly drowsy effect upon me when, as the boy halted for a moment in turning on his march, he suddenly stiffened, and stared intently out upon our starboard beam. He stood thus, like a figure suddenly turned to stone, for the space of a full minute or more, then came softly to my side and saluted. "Three craft on our starboard beam, sir, coming up from the south-west," he reported. "What do they look like?" I demanded, rising to my feet and staring out in the direction toward which the boy pointed. "I cannot yet say, sir," he replied. "At present they are too far off to reveal their character; indeed, I doubt if I should have seen them so soon, but for the fact that I glimpsed the flames issuing from one of their funnels." "Yes," I said. "Thanks, Mr Uchida, I see them too. Have the goodness to bring me the night-glass from the chart-house. They appear to be steaming with lights out." The lad hurried away, and quickly returned with the night-glass, which I focused and applied to my eye. The night was overcast, but there were a few stars blinking out between the clouds, which were flying fast up from the westward, and by their feeble, uncertain light I was presently able to distinguish a little more clearly the three small, shapeless blurs that Uchida's keen eyes had detected. They were little more than shapeless blurs still, even when viewed through the powerful lenses of the night-glass; but I was able to distinguish that one of them was considerably bigger than the other two, which were much of a size. It was the funnel of the big fellow that was showing the flames, which seemed to indicate that she was being driven, while the other two appeared to be running easily. Yet all three were in company. The appearance of the two smaller craft seemed to suggest to me that they might possibly be destroyers; but what the other was, I could not guess. She was not big enough for a cruiser or a transport; and the fact that she was evidently being hard driven to enable her to keep pace with her consorts--or, possibly, escort--led me to doubt whether she was a warship of any kind. One thing was pretty clear, which was that, like ourselves, they were evidently bound for Kinchau Bay. Were they enemies or friends? If the former, it was eminently undesirable that they should be permitted to arrive, and it was for me to look into the matter. "How's her head?" I demanded of the helmsman. "East, three degrees south," he replied. "Shift your helm to east, twenty-five degrees south," I ordered; and the bows of the destroyer swung round until she was heading for a point at which we could intercept the strangers. Then: "Mr Uchida," I said, "pass the word to prepare to make the private night signal." The signal was presently hoisted to the yard-arm and displayed for fully five minutes without evoking a response; and then I knew that the strangers were enemies. We accordingly hauled down the signal again and cleared for action, loading both torpedo tubes as well. This done, we quickened up our pace to full speed; for if we were going to have a fight, I wanted it to be out there in the open, so far away from the shore that the sounds of firing would not reach the Russians about Kinchau, and so apprise them of the presence of an enemy in the adjacent waters. As we rapidly neared the enemy I made them out to be two destroyers, evidently escorting the third craft, which was a single-funnelled steamer of apparently about eighteen hundred tons. She sat deep in the water, as though loaded to her full capacity, but she was much too small for a transport, and for the life of me I could not imagine what her character might be. But there could be no doubt whatever concerning the destroyers; they were self-evident Russians, for they were four-funnelled, the funnels arranged in pairs, which was distinctly characteristic of a certain class of Russian destroyer. Neither side wasted any time upon useless preliminaries; but it was the Russians who opened the ball by both craft firing, almost simultaneously, every gun they could bring to bear upon us. But their aim was nothing to boast of, for although we heard the shells screaming all about us, we remained untouched. Twice they fired upon us before I would give the word to our gun-layers, and both times ineffectively; then I gave the order to commence firing; and no sooner had the words passed my lips than our 12-pounder spoke, and a moment later there occurred two distinct explosions aboard the nearest Russian boat, which instantly became enveloped in a great cloud of steam. Apparently that first shot of ours had struck and exploded one of her boilers, for almost immediately she slackened speed and began to drop astern. This mishap, however, did not seem to in the least discourage her consort, which, putting on full speed, now dashed at us in the most determined and gallant manner, firing as she came, and receiving our fire in return. And then, for some ten minutes, we found ourselves engaged in a regular ding-dong fight, we and our antagonist closing to a distance of less than two hundred yards, and hammering away at each other as fast as the guns could be served. But it very soon became apparent that our fellows were much the better and cooler gunners of the two; for whereas the Russians seemed to ram in their charges and let fly on the instant that their guns were loaded, our men waited, watching the roll both of their own ship and that of the enemy, and firing at her waterline as she rolled away from us, with the result that within the first five minutes of the fight a lucky shot from our 12-pounder sent a shell through her upturned bilge a foot or so below her normal waterline, blowing a hole through her thin plating that admitted a tremendous inrush of water every time that she rolled toward us. Her crew at once got out a collision mat and made the most desperate efforts to get it over and stop the leak; but our 6-pound quick-firers peppered them so severely that, after struggling manfully for two or three minutes, they were obliged to let the mat go, and lost it. Then they launched a torpedo at us, which missed us by inches only, whereupon I ordered our men to cease fire, and hailed the Russian to ask if she would surrender. But, not a bit of it; their reply, as translated to me by Hiraoka, who was an excellent Russian linguist, was, that they knew how to die, but not how to surrender; and the reply was accompanied by another salvo from every one of their guns that would bear. And this, too, at a moment when it became only too apparent that the boat was rapidly sinking. Since, therefore, it was evident that they were resolved to fight to the last, there was nothing for it but to open fire upon them afresh, much as I regretted it, as they obstinately persisted in keeping up a fire upon us. The end, however, was nearer than even I thought, for we had fired but a few more shots at our opponent when there occurred a terrific explosion aboard her, instantly followed by several others, her deck opened up like the lid of a box, a great sheet of flame leapt up from her interior; and, seeming to break in two, the dismembered hull rapidly disappeared, the bow and stern portions rearing themselves out of water for a few seconds ere they plunged to the bottom, leaving nothing to show where the boat had been, save a great cloud of acrid smoke and steam, a few fragments of wreckage, and some half a dozen men struggling in the water. Of course we instantly stopped our engines and launched a boat; but we only found and saved three men out of the boat's total complement of forty-seven. We learned that the name of the lost destroyer was the _Beztraschni_, and that all of her officers had perished with her. We now had leisure to attend to the other two craft, which were by this time some three miles astern, having apparently stopped their engines to await at a safe distance the course of events. Swinging round, we headed for them at full speed, with all guns loaded, and a torpedo in each tube, ready to open fire as soon as we got within effective range. As we drew nearer, however, it became evident that there was something very seriously wrong with the destroyer which we had first fired upon, and which had dropped astern, disabled, for there were boats in the water about her, seemingly passing between her and the other craft, boats going to her with only two or three hands in them, and leaving her loaded. By the time that we had arrived within a mile of her we could see that the destroyer was in a sinking condition; and a minute later we lost sight of her altogether: she had gone down. The boats were still in the water alongside the surviving craft, and men were climbing up her side from them as we arrived within some thirty fathoms of her and hailed, demanding her surrender. A reply instantly came from her to the effect that she surrendered; whereupon I dispatched Hiraoka on board, in charge of an armed boat's crew; and some ten minutes later the youngster hailed, informing me that our prize was named the _Vashka_, of seventeen hundred and sixty tons register, originally a cargo steamer, but now adapted for mine-laying; and that she was from Dalny, bound for Kinchau Bay for the purpose of sowing the bay with mines, in anticipation of the probability that some of our ships would be sent to participate in the attack upon the isthmus. He added the information that the vessel, hoping to escape the notice of Japan's warships by taking a roundabout route, had been escorted by two destroyers only, the _Beztraschni_ and the _Storozhevoi_, the latter of which we had seen go down a few minutes before as a result of injuries inflicted upon her by our 12-pounder, the shell from which had not only blown a great rent in her bottom, as it burst, but the fragments of which had pierced two of her boilers. It was evident that we had made a capture of considerable importance, I therefore proceeded on board the prize, with an armed reinforcement, and after going carefully into the matter with Hiraoka, arranged with him to take the _Vashka_ to the Elliots, in charge of a prize crew, there to act according to the Admiral's orders. This matter arranged, I returned to the _Kasanumi_, and we resumed our voyage while the prize headed away south-west, on her way round to the Elliot Islands. We now had leisure to look into the extent of our own injuries. These, it proved, were by no means so serious as might have been expected, having regard to the fierceness and closeness of the fight. Our casualties amounted to two killed and five wounded, one of them seriously; while the top of the aftermost of our midship pair of funnels had been blown away, the rail of the navigating bridge smashed and doubled up in a most astonishing way, the pilot-house roof torn off, our topsides pierced in no less than five places, and a very pretty general average made of my cabin, in which a shell had evidently burst. Luckily, none of these injuries seriously affected the craft's safety, while most of them could be at least temporarily patched-up in a few hours; also, very luckily, all the navigating instruments, the chronometer, my sextant, the nautical almanac, and my book of logarithmic and other tables had almost miraculously escaped all injury. We steamed into Kinchau Bay, with all lights out, about an hour later than I had arranged for, but still in sufficient time for the work which lay before me; and when we arrived off the cove where I had previously landed, our largest boat was lowered, the buoys or rafts which I had caused to be prepared were placed in her, each having attached to it a very light chain of just sufficient length to securely moor it with the aid of a good grapnel; and, accompanied by two men, I then jumped in, and we pulled ashore, while the _Kasanumi_ turned tail and steamed off to sea again at full speed, so as to be out of sight from the shore before dawn. Arrived in the cove, we secured our boat, and then settled down as comfortably as was possible to await the dawn. It came at last, and, as I had expected, there very shortly afterwards arrived some forty Manchurian fishermen from a little village, about half a mile distant. At first they were somewhat alarmed to find the cove, and their boats, apparently in possession of Japanese men-o'-war's-men; but I had taken the precaution to ensure that one of my men should be capable of playing the part of interpreter; and before long I was able not only to reassure them but also, by a judicious admixture of cajolery and threats, to secure their assistance in the completion of my scheme. Money appeals to the Manchurian fisherman just as powerfully as it does to most other people, more powerfully than it does to many, for he sees so little of it; consequently when I intimated that I was prepared to pay the magnificent sum of ten yen for a few hours' use of one of their boats, with a crew of four men, the whole crowd came tumbling over one another in their eagerness to secure the prize. I chose the boat most suitable for my purpose, transferred my rafts and gear to her, leaving our own boat in charge of a man who undertook to guard her with his life for the sum of one yen; and then, in company with the other boats, which were going fishing in the bay, we shoved off and pulled out of the cove. By a stroke of the greatest good fortune, the day was beautifully fine and clear, so that I was able without the slightest difficulty to get every one of my bearings with the most absolute accuracy, and to place my several buoys on the prearranged spots with perfect precision. The work was successfully and most satisfactorily accomplished shortly before noon; and now all that remained to be done was to affix the different coloured flags to the buoys. But that part would have to be deferred until our ships should actually come into action; otherwise our sharp-sighted enemies might prematurely catch sight of them, and, guessing their purpose, destroy them. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. I GO ASHORE. An hour before midnight, launching our own boat, my crew and I pushed out of the cove into Kinchau Bay, in readiness to board the _Kasanumi_ immediately upon her arrival from the offing. Toward the close of the afternoon the weather had undergone a change, becoming overcast and hazy, with a drizzling rain. The wind, too, had shifted, and, as we pushed out of the cove, was blowing fresh from the westward, knocking up a short, choppy sea that threatened soon to become dangerous to such a small boat as ours. Luckily for us, however, Hiraoka was a bit ahead of time that night, the barometer having warned him that bad weather was brewing, with the result that in little more than half an hour after leaving the cove we made out the dark form of the destroyer, hove-to and waiting for us, within fifty fathoms of our boat. And now it was that I had practical experience of the value of a suitable colouring as an aid to concealment; for although the _Kasanumi_ had been where we found her for a full quarter of an hour, and although we had been keeping a sharp lookout for her, she remained invisible until we were close aboard of her, thanks to the peculiar shade of grey with which I had caused her to be painted. We scrambled aboard gladly enough, hoisted the boat to the davits, and at once started back for our rendezvous at the Elliot group, where we arrived without adventure shortly after sunrise on the following morning. When, a little later, I went aboard the flagship to report myself and the result of my expedition to the Admiral, I learned that I had only got back just in the nick of time, for at last a communication had been received from General Oku, announcing that his preparations were now complete, and the squadron detached to assist him was under orders to leave for Kinchau Bay that very night. This squadron consisted of the _Tsukushi_, a light cruiser, armed with two 10-inch and four 47-inch guns, and the old ironclad _Hei-yen_, once belonging to the Chinese navy, but captured by the Japanese at the first battle of the Yalu. She mounted one 10-inch Krupp which had formed part of her original armament, and two 6-inch modern guns. Also the _Akagi_, another survivor of the Yalu battle, armed with four 47-inch guns; and the _Chokai_, carrying one 8-2-inch and one 47-inch gun. These were the craft destined to bombard the Nanshan Heights from the sea while the Japanese infantry and artillery attacked them from the land side; and they were the only craft we had at the time at all suitable for the purpose, while even they were incapable of rendering such efficient help as might have been desired, the fact being that the shallow waters of Kinchau Bay compelled them to keep at so great a distance from the shore that they could only use their guns at extreme ranges. Accompanying these four ships was a flotilla consisting of ten torpedo-boats under my command, their duty being to lend a hand generally in any manner that might be required. There was just comfortable time for us to re-bunker the _Kasanumi_ before six o'clock, at which hour we got under way, the expedition as a whole being under the command of Rear-Admiral Misamichi, who knew the locality well, having carefully reconnoitred the whole of the western coast of the peninsula a week or two earlier. I had by this time completed all my calculations, laid down upon the chart the positions of my series of buoys, and indicated in figures the exact measurements in yards from the lines which they marked to a number of points ashore, and a copy of this chart had been handed to each captain; they were therefore now in a position to steam in and open fire forthwith, with the absolute certainty of landing their shots upon the spots aimed at. We were rather a slow-going lot, our speed of course being regulated by that of the slowest craft of the bunch, which happened to be the old _Hei-yen_; and our progress was further impeded by the circumstance that, upon rounding Liao-ti-shan promontory we ran into a westerly breeze and sea that flung our torpedo-boats about like corks and necessitated our slowing down to a speed of about eight knots; in consequence of which it was late the next night when we arrived and came to an anchor well out in deep water. And now arose a little difficulty. We started to communicate by wireless to General Oku the fact of our arrival in the bay, by code of course; but such was the Russian keenness and activity that the moment their own wireless picked up our message,--as, of course, it was bound to do,--finding that it was in a code which they could not decipher, they immediately proceeded to "mix" it so effectually that the reading of it became impossible. The first word or two, however, reached Oku, and he at once, shrewdly surmising that the message was from us, proceeded to signal us by searchlight, using an adaptation of the Morse Code. The conversation thus carried on was a lengthy one, occupying more than an hour, when it suddenly ceased, and almost immediately afterward the Admiral signalled me to proceed on board the flagship. This was much more easily said than done, for by this time it was blowing a moderate gale, and the sea was running so heavily that it was as much as my boat could do to live in it, while as for getting alongside the cruiser, that was quite out of the question, and they were obliged to hoist me aboard in a standing bowline at the end of a whip. Upon being shown into Admiral Misamichi's cabin, I found its occupant somewhat ruefully contemplating the rather voluminous communication from the shore which he had just received. He welcomed me with much cordiality, and then passed the document over to me. "Be so good as to read that, Captain," he said, "and then kindly tell me what you make of it. It purports to be General Oku's instructions for to-morrow; but so dense is my stupidity that I am compelled to confess my inability to understand it." I read the communication carefully through from beginning to end three times, and was then obliged to admit that I had only been able to glean a very hazy, imperfect notion of what the General required. I gathered that he desired the squadron to concentrate its fire from time to time upon certain points, as directed by signal; but the mischief of it was that we out there in the bay had no means of identifying the points named by the General; in other words, he gave them designations of which we were completely ignorant. We produced the chart of the place, likewise the map, and studied them both intently, with Oku's message beside us, and finally came to the conclusion that it was incomprehensible. Then the Admiral sent for the captains of the other ships, and they had a shot at it, with a similar result. At length I said: "It appears to me, sir, that there is but one thing to be done, namely, for me to go ashore, find General Oku, explain to him our difficulty, and _get_ him to mark on the map the several points mentioned here,"-- touching the dispatch. "As you are aware, I have already been ashore here; I spent a whole day among the hills, reconnoitring the ground and making observations. I therefore know the country well, including our own and the enemy's positions; and probably half an hour's conversation with the General will enable me to identify the points mentioned in this dispatch with some of those already marked upon my chart. Thus, for example, this point, the position of which we are wholly unable to identify, may be the position which I have marked 1, or 3, or 7, or, in fact, anything; but it _must_ be one or other of those which I have numbered, for I numbered every one of them." "Yes, yes," agreed the Admiral, "that is all quite comprehensible; and, if you could only get ashore, the matter could very soon be adjusted. But how are you going to get ashore; and--still more difficult--how are you going to get off again? From what I know of this bay, I am prepared to say that there is a surf breaking on the beach at this moment which no boat of ours could pass through and live. Listen to the wind, how it howls through our rigging!" True! that was a point which had entirely escaped me, in my eagerness. How was I to get ashore? Or rather, how was I to get off again? I was pretty confident of my ability to get ashore, for surf-swimming was a favourite pastime of mine; but as to getting off again--well, I doubted whether even my strength was equal to the task of struggling out through the long lines of surf which I knew must now be thundering in upon Kinchau beach. The difficulty was finally overcome by the Admiral consenting to my attempting to get ashore, upon condition that I would not attempt to swim off again unless I felt absolutely convinced of my ability to accomplish the feat. If I could not, I was to remain ashore with Oku, helping him in any manner that might suggest itself, but especially by signalling off to the fleet, from time to time, the numbers of the several positions which they would be required to shell. This matter settled, I made my way back to the _Kasanumi_, and there prepared for my somewhat hazardous adventure by carefully tying up a marked and figured copy of the map of Kinchau and its surroundings in a piece of thin sheet rubber, to protect it from the wet. Next, I divested myself of all clothing except a pair of swimming drawers and a pair of thin canvas running shoes. Then, tying the map, in its rubber case, round my neck, I signalled our smallest torpedo-boat to look out for me and haul me aboard--for by this time the sea was running so heavily that it was impossible to launch a boat; when, having received a reply to my signal, I simply dived overboard and swam down to leeward to where the torpedo-boat lay. Her crew were, of course, keenly on the alert, and as I came driving down toward them, only visible in consequence of the phosphorescence of the water, they flung me a lifebuoy bent on to the end of a line, and so hauled me aboard. We were anchored at a distance of about four miles from the shore, which was, of course, much too great a distance for me to attempt to swim in the sea that was now running, especially as I should need every ounce of strength to fight my way through the long stretch of surf that I knew must now be breaking all along the shore. I therefore briefly explained to the skipper of the torpedo-boat the mission upon which I was bound, and what I wished him to do, and then, while he saw to the doing of his part, I retired to his little cabin, stripped off my wet swimming kit, and gave myself a vigorous towelling to banish the cold of even the brief swim I had already undertaken. Meanwhile, the boat was got under way and taken in toward Kinchau, with the lead going all the time; and when at length she was as near the shore as it was at all prudent for her to approach, she was turned with her head to seaward, and the skipper came down to apprise me of the state of affairs. The boat had taken about twenty minutes to feel her way in, and during that time I had been assiduously practising gymnastics; I was therefore now not only dry but also in a pleasant glow of warmth, and quite ready to undertake the really formidable part of the task that still lay before me. My swimming kit had meanwhile been taken down into the stokehole, so that when it was handed to me it was not only nearly dry but, what was very much more to the purpose, comfortably warm. Donning it and a fine warm boat cloak, I accompanied the skipper to the deck and walked aft to take a look at the task before me. I found that they had taken the boat in to the very edge of the outer line of the surf, which stretched away inshore of us, line after line, in an apparently interminable procession of breakers, like lines of infantry rushing forward to the assault, vaguely visible in their pallid phosphorescence against the blackness of the starless night. To fight my way to the shore through that wide area of roaring, leaping, and seething breakers promised to be a task that would tax my strength and energy to their utmost limits; but it was a case of necessity, and I had undertaken to do it; therefore, throwing off the borrowed boat cloak, with a word of farewell to the skipper of the boat, I waited for the next oncoming breaker, and dived overboard at the precise moment when it would catch me up in its mighty arms and sweep me, without effort on my part, a good twenty fathoms toward the shore. _B-r-r-r_! The water struck icy cold to my warm skin as I plunged deep into the heart of the great arching mass of water, which caught me just as I was rising to the surface and hurled me shoreward with irresistible force, rolling me over and over like a cork as it broke into a long line of hissing, pallid foam. But I knew exactly what to expect, and was fully prepared for it. I therefore allowed it to do with me just what it would, holding my breath and waiting until the breaker had passed ahead and spent its force. Then, striking out strongly as I came to the surface, I swam on toward the next line of breakers, where the same thing was repeated, but each time a shade less violently, until at length, after what seemed like hours, but which, as a matter of fact, could not have been more than about forty minutes of battling with the breakers, my feet touched ground, and a moment later the last breaker, a very mild and harmless one compared with those in the offing, lifted me up and almost gently deposited me on the beach. Upon hands and knees I crawled up above watermark and then rose to my feet to look about, recover my breath, and get my bearings. After the stinging cold of the water, the air felt quite pleasantly warm, but I knew that I should soon get chilled if I did not keep moving briskly; so, seeing a line of watch-fires about half a mile away, which, from their position, I guessed must be Japanese, I set out toward them at a brisk walking pace, and, the ground being fortunately open in that direction, it was but a few minutes before I found myself unexpectedly halted, with the point of a Japanese sentry's bayonet gently pressing against my breast. Of course I hadn't the countersign; but my appearance, and particularly my unconventional garb, must have convinced him of the truth of my story that, being unable to get ashore in any other way, I had swum in from the fleet, with a communication from the Admiral for General Oku, for he passed me on to the next sentry without hesitation; and thus in the course of another ten minutes I found myself in the tent of a certain colonel who not only had heard of me but had also seen me and now recognised me. From him I learned that the general staff quarters were situated about a mile farther inland, on one of the lower slopes of Mount Sampson, to which he very kindly offered to conduct me. But of course I could not present myself before General Oku in bathing rig, and it was not without difficulty that a suit of clothes was at length found into which I could get; but it was managed at last, and off we went, the colonel and I, my companion seeming to be greatly impressed with my swimming feat. "I wonder," he remarked, "if there is _anything_ that an Englishman would not at least _attempt_ to do!" Our way led through the Japanese camp, so I had a very good opportunity to observe what the domestic life--if I may so term it--of the Japanese soldier was at the front; and I was surprised to see how thoroughly every possible contingency had been foreseen and provided for, and how many ingenious little devices had been thought out and included in his kit with the object of adding to his comfort. In due time we arrived at headquarters; and late though the hour was, the General and his staff were all not only awake and on the move, but were holding a sort of council of war, for the purpose of making the final arrangements for the morrow. As it happened, my arrival was most opportune, for the staff were planning the details of an assault that could by no possibility be successful without the assistance of the navy, upon which they were all confidently reckoning, whereas it was my duty to inform them that, unless there came a very quick change of weather, it would be impossible for our ships to co-operate, and I had to explain at length why. This caused an immediate change of plan, the grand assault being provisionally postponed, since there was no prospect whatever at that moment of a change of weather occurring in time. I delivered my message and produced my map, explaining the various markings upon it and describing the work upon which I had been engaged during the past few days; and I was exceedingly gratified to learn that it would greatly simplify and assist the general's plans. It was also satisfactory to know that the Japanese had never had the slightest suspicion of what I was doing, which was tantamount to an assurance that the Russians were equally ignorant. It was amazing to see the facility with which Oku altered his plans. No sooner did he understand that the chances were all against the fleet being able to help him on the following day than he was ready with an alternative scheme; and in a quarter of an hour he had everything cut-and-dried, every officer present was given clear and concise instructions relative to his duties on the morrow, and we were all dismissed with a hint to get what rest we might, as the morrow was to be a busy day. General Oshima, who was in command of the 3rd Division, constituting the Japanese left, very kindly took me under his wing, and found me sleeping quarters in a tent, the occupants of which happened to be out on duty. Being greatly fatigued after my swim, I slept soundly that night, but was awakened at dawn by the bugle calls, and turned out to see what the weather was like. To my disgust, and doubtless that of everybody else, it was worse than ever; the sky was overcast and louring, with great rags of dirty grey scud flying athwart the face of the heavens from the westward, while the top of Mount Sampson was completely enveloped in mist, which, notwithstanding the gale, clung to the rugged peak and ribs of the mountain very much as the "tablecloth" does to the summit of Table Mountain. There was no fog down where we were, but, what was even worse, we were smothered with blinding and suffocating clouds of dust, for it was a dry gale, and all hands were devoutly praying that the louring sky would dissolve into rain, if only for half an hour, just to lay the dust and so save us from the unpleasantness of being blinded and suffocated. As for the bay, it was just one continuous sheet of foam, while the breakers leapt and boiled for a space of a full mile from the beach. A single glance at it was sufficient to make it clear that it would be impossible for the fleet to co-operate so long as the gale lasted, even if the tossing masts and spray-enveloped hulls of our craft in the offing had not told a similar tale. General Oshima and I walked a couple of miles to the northward along the slopes of Mount Sampson, in order to get a good view of the bay, clear of the northern spur of the Nanshan Heights, just to make assurance doubly sure; but it was scarcely necessary to point out to him the wildly plunging hulls of our ships to make him understand the hopelessness of the case, and that once clearly established, we hurried back to Headquarters to make our report. Oku, however, was not the man to be deterred by weather, or indeed anything else. Finding that the projected assault was impossible for the moment, he resolved to begin the bombardment with his own guns, doing the best he could with them, unaided, and accompanying the bombardment with what he termed "a demonstration in force," in order to bring out the Russians and compel them to man their defences while exposed to the fire of our guns. Thus, by a curious combination of circumstances, it appeared that at last I was to be afforded the opportunity of seeing what a land battle was like. Naturally, I volunteered my services in any capacity where I could be made useful, and the general eagerly closed with my offer. He was particularly anxious to obtain the exact range of certain of the Russian positions without being obliged to fire any trial shots, and he asked me if I could do this for him, seeing that I had already done similar work quite recently; and I told him that I could, and would, with pleasure, if such a thing as a box sextant or an azimuth compass was to be found in camp. Somewhat to my surprise it turned out, upon inquiry, that no such things were to be had. I therefore had recourse to what is known among engineers as a "plane table," which I was obliged to extemporise; and with this apparatus, used in conjunction with a carefully measured line, three hundred yards in length, I was soon able to supply the information required. The whole device was, of course, of a very rough-and-ready description, but I was greatly gratified when the first shots were fired, to see the shells drop upon the exact spots aimed at. The task which General Oku had undertaken, and which he must accomplish before an advance could be made by him upon Port Arthur, was an exceedingly difficult one. As has already been said, he effected a landing at a point near Yentoa Bay, distant some sixty miles north-east of Port Arthur as the crow flies. From thence he must needs make his way to Port Arthur overland, since there was no such thing for him as getting there by sea. About half-way on his journey occurred the isthmus of Kinchau, which is only about two miles wide, and which he must traverse on his way. A neck of land two miles wide is no great matter to fortify, a fact which the Russians speedily demonstrated. To march along such a narrow strip of land, with sixteen thousand resolute armed men saying you Nay, would be difficult enough, in all conscience, were that strip of land level; but unhappily for the Japanese it was not so, the Nanshan Heights running through it from north to south, like a raised backbone, leaving only a very narrow strip of low ground on either side of it. Nor was this the only difficulty which the Japanese had to contend with, for, some three miles north-east of the narrowest part of the isthmus, towered Mount Sampson, over two thousand feet in height, commanding the entire neighbourhood and affording an ideal position for the Russian batteries. Then, at the foot of Mount Sampson lay the walled city of Kinchau, which the Russians had seized and fortified; and, finally, there were the Nanshan Heights, upon the crest of which the Russians had constructed ten forts, armed with seventy guns, several of which were of 8-inch or 6-inch calibre, firing shells of from two hundred to one hundred pounds weight. To attempt to pass these several positions while they were in the hands of the Russians would have been simply courting annihilation; the first task, therefore, was to capture them. This, so far as Mount Sampson was concerned, had been done when I arrived upon the scene; but there still remained Kinchau and the Nanshan Heights to be taken; and each of these threatened to be an even tougher piece of work than the storming of Mount Sampson; for the Russians, after their experience of the extraordinary intrepidity of the Japanese when storming the mountain, had adopted every conceivable means to make the heights impregnable. First of all, there were the ten forts with their seventy guns lining the crest of the heights, in addition to which the Russians had two batteries of quick-fire field artillery and ten machine-guns. Next, in front of the forts, all along the eastern slope of the heights--which was the side from which attack was possible--there was row after row of shelter trenches, solidly roofed with timber covered with earth, to protect the occupants from artillery fire. Below these again the Russians had dug countless circular pitfalls, about ten feet deep, shaped like drinking cups, with very narrow bottoms, each pit having at its bottom a stout, upright, sharpened stake upon which any hapless person, falling in, must inevitably be impaled. They were, in fact, an adaptation of the stake pitfalls employed by many African and other natives to capture and kill big game. These pits were dug so close together that, of a party of stormers rushing up the slope, a large proportion must inevitably fall in, or be unwittingly pushed in by their comrades. Passages between these pits were purposely left here and there, but they were all mined, each mine being connected to one of the forts above by an electric cable, so that it could be exploded at any moment by merely pressing a button. And that moment would of course be when the passage-way was crowded with Japanese. And, lastly, at the foot of the hill there was a great maze of strongly constructed wire entanglements, during the slow passage of which the hapless stormers would be exposed to a withering rifle and shell fire. Thus the task which the Japanese had to perform was, first to pass through the wire entanglements at the foot of the hill; next, to achieve the passage of the staked pits and the mined ground between them--exposed all the time, be it remembered, to a terrific fire from the forts and trenches above; next, to take line after line of trenches; and, finally, to storm the forts on the crest of the heights--a task which, I frankly admit, seemed to me impossible. I must confess that my first impressions of a land battle were disappointing. I had expected to see the Japanese march out and storm the heights under cover of the fire of their own guns. And, as a matter of fact, they did march out, but there was no storming of the heights; I had momentarily forgotten that what I was witnessing was merely a "demonstration." I presume it served its purpose, however, for the General and his staff seemed to be perfectly satisfied with the result; and in any case it had the effect intended of compelling the Russians to man their trenches under the fire of the Japanese guns, which, feeble though they were as compared with those of the enemy, must have inflicted severe punishment upon the packed masses of infantry who swarmed into the trenches to repel what they had every reason to suppose was a genuine attack. But the Japanese--closely watched by a Russian captive balloon, which was sent up directly our troops were seen to be in motion--having compelled the Russians to turn out and expend a considerable quantity of ammunition in comparatively innocuous long-range shooting, calmly marched back again about three o'clock in the afternoon, about which time the firing ceased. While it lasted, however, it was hot enough to bring on heavy rain, and the day ended with a tremendous downpour, which converted the hillsides into a network of miniature cascades, and must have been exceedingly unpleasant for any of the Russians whom expediency and watchfulness compelled to remain in the trenches. With nightfall the gale increased in fury; but the rain had produced at least one good result; it had laid the dust most effectually while it had made but little mud, for the thirsty earth seemed to absorb the water almost as fast as it fell; also it cooled the air considerably, which was all to the advantage of the Japanese, who would have the strenuous work of climbing the hill, while it would tend to chill and benumb the Russians, who would be compelled to remain comparatively inactive in the sodden trenches. Whether it was this consideration, or the fact that the barometer was rapidly rising, or a combination of both, I cannot say, but about ten o'clock that night the word went round that a general attack upon the Russian works was to be made as soon as possible after midnight. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. THE STORMING OF NANSHAN HEIGHTS. By midnight a change of weather had occurred; the wind, which at ten o'clock in the evening had been blowing harder than ever, suddenly subsided, the air grew close, almost to suffocation, and an immense black cloud settled down upon the summit of Mount Sampson, where it rested broodingly, the sure precursor of a thunderstorm, if I was any judge of weather lore. The first troops to move consisted of a detachment of the 4th Engineers' Battalion, who were assigned the perilous duty of blowing down the gates of Kinchau, of which there were four, corresponding to the four cardinal points of the compass. I volunteered to accompany this party, for the task which devolved upon them was one that rather appealed to me; but Oku was most emphatic in his refusal, explaining that he would more than probably require my services at daylight, or shortly afterward, to communicate with the squadron in the offing. Accordingly, I had to stand aside, somewhat unwillingly, and see them march off without me; which was perhaps just as well, for the attempt resulted in failure, and every man who participated in it was killed. Just as the Engineers marched out of camp on their way to Kinchau, the brooding cloud on the summit of Mount Sampson began to send forth flash after flash of vivid lightning, green, blue, and sun-bright, which lighted up not only the rugged slopes of the mountain itself, but also those other and more deadly slopes of the Nanshan Heights, while peal after peal of thunder crashed and rolled and reverberated among the ravines which scored the sides of the mountain. It was a weird enough scene of itself, but its weirdness was intensified by the Russian searchlights, which were turned on with the first crash of thunder, which the Russians appeared to mistake for the roar of Japanese guns. As a matter of fact they appeared to be a bit panicky that night, for not only did they turn on the searchlights at the first sound of thunder, but the occupants of the forts and trenches on the crest and side of Nanshan Heights at once opened a terrific fire from every piece, great or small, that could be brought to bear upon the foot of the slope, which was instantly swept by a very hurricane of shrapnel and rifle bullets, while the Japanese, safely under cover, looked on and smiled. For two hours that storm raged with such fury that the volleying peals of thunder quite outroared the booming of the Russian artillery and rifle-fire, which gradually died down as the Muscovites began to realise that there was no attack; and about two o'clock in the morning the storm passed away, still rumbling and muttering, to the eastward. But during that two hours of elemental fury, a Chinese village in the neighbourhood was set on fire and practically destroyed, while several Japanese soldiers were struck by lightning, and either killed outright or more or less seriously injured. With the passing of the storm a thick, white mist arose from the low ground, completely blotting out everything beyond a few yards distant; and under the cover of this mist the Japanese made their dispositions for the coming battle, entirely unseen by the enemy, and probably unheard also, for it was a revelation to me to see how quietly large bodies of men could be moved when the necessity for silence had been fully impressed upon them. As the dawn gradually brightened the sky behind the ridge of Mount Sampson, the Russians again became uneasy, and their rifles once more began to speak from the trenches, a shot here, then another shot yonder, followed by quite a spluttering here and there all along their front; but their artillery remained silent, for the fog was still so dense that nothing could be seen at which to aim. Protected by the cover of the fog, the Japanese soldiers went to breakfast, fortifying themselves with a good meal, in preparation for the arduous labours of the day that lay before them; and I did the same, for I knew not how long it might be before I should again have the opportunity to eat or drink; also, following the example of several of the officers and men, I filled my jacket pockets with biscuit, and provided myself with a good capacious flask of cold tea, having done which, I felt ready for anything. We had barely finished breakfast when the sun showed over the ridge of Mount Sampson; and almost immediately the thick curtain of fog, which had thus far so effectually hidden the movements of the Japanese troops from the enemy, began to lift and thin. This was the signal for the final movement prior to the storming of the Nanshan Heights; and that movement was directed against the city of Kinchau, it being known by this time that the devoted band of engineers who had been dispatched at midnight to blow in the gates of the city must have failed in their mission, otherwise some of them at least would have been back to report. To the 1st Division was assigned the task of taking the city; and they did it in brilliant style. Marching upon the southern gate, a party of four engineers was sent forward to blow in the massive barrier, which was protected by steel plates and bands, secured by heavy steel bolts, and loopholed for musketry. The devoted quartette succeeded in placing their blasting charges and igniting the fuses under a heavy fire, not only from the loopholed gate, but also from the walls, but in so doing they were so severely wounded that after they had lighted the fuses they were unable to effect their escape, and received further severe injuries when the explosion occurred and the gate was blown off its hinges. Then the waiting 1st Division, straining like eager hounds held in leash, rushed forward through the thick, acrid smoke, with levelled bayonets, yelling "Banzai Nippon!" as they ran; and as they charged impetuously in through the south gate, the enemy went streaming as impetuously out through the west gate, about half a mile away. Kinchau was now in the hands of the Japanese; but this was not sufficient for them, they must needs pursue the flying Russians; and they did so with such furious impetuosity that they literally drove them into the sea--that is to say, into the waters of Kinchau Bay, where the luckless Russians, to the number of five hundred, were either shot down or drowned, almost to a man, only ten of them surviving and being taken prisoners. I had a distant view of the whole affair from a knoll on the northern spur of the Nanshan Heights, where I had taken up a position which commanded a view, not only of practically the whole of the ground over which the stormers would have to pass, but also of the bay and our fleet, to which I should probably be required to signal from time to time as the fight progressed. Meanwhile, the mist had by this time lifted, revealing a flotilla of our torpedo-boats and destroyers feeling their way into the bay and keeping a bright lookout for possible mines. Well astern of them came the _Akagi_ and _Chokai_; and still farther out were the old _Hei-yen_ and the cruiser _Tsukushi_, cautiously creeping in, with leadsmen perpetually sounding on either beam. The bottom, about where they were required to be, was flat, and the tide was on the ebb, the great fear of the skippers of those two craft, therefore, was that they might touch the ground and hang there, left by the tide, exposed helplessly to the fire of the Russian guns. Thanks, however, to my labours of a few days earlier, they were all able to get close enough in to open upon the Russian works at extreme range, although, until the tide should rise, they could not bring a thoroughly effective fire upon the Russian batteries and so put them out of action. But if we had ships, so, too, had the Russians, in the shape of the gunboat _Bobr_ and five small steamers in Hand Bay, on the side of the isthmus opposite to Kinchau Bay, the Nanshan Heights being between them, so that each was hidden from the sight of the other. The _Bobr_ was likely to prove a very awkward customer for us; for she mounted one 9-inch and one 6-inch gun, which, although they were a long way from being up-to-date, were still quite good enough to out-range the Japanese field-guns and severely pepper our left, which occupied the ground at the head of Hand Bay. The steamers which accompanied her were, our spies discovered, fitted up expressly for the purpose of quickly ferrying troops across from one side of Hand Bay to the other, according as they might be wanted, instead of being obliged to march round the head of the bay in the face of our troops. Thus the Russians were in a position to either harass our left flank and rear, or to rush reinforcements across the head of the bay--a distance of about a mile-- as circumstances might require. The _Bohr_ began the day's proceedings by opening fire with her 9-inch gun upon the artillery of our 3rd Division, which had taken up a position upon the lower slopes of Mount Sampson, from which it could reach the Russian batteries established upon the crest of the Nanshan Heights. The gunboat's fire did very little mischief, but it seemed to be regarded by both sides as a signal to begin the fight, for at once our batteries got to work, their shells dropping with most beautiful precision upon the guns and trenches of the Russians. I was so stationed that I had a most excellent view of practically the entire scene of operations, and no sooner did our artillery open fire than the Russian batteries replied with a crash that seemed to make the very air quiver. A land battle is a very different spectacle from a sea battle, in this respect: that, in the latter, a shell either hits or misses its mark, and if it misses there is a splash or two and that ends the matter, so far as that particular shell is concerned. But ashore, every shell, whether or not it finds its mark, hits something, though it be only the ground, and immediately there is a violent explosion, a flash of fire, a great cloud of smoke, and a violent scattering of dust, clods of earth, and stones--if nothing worse. Thus, I must confess that for a few seconds I was perfectly amazed to see the slopes of Mount Sampson, on the one hand, where our artillery was placed, and the Nanshan Heights, on the other, where were situated the Russian batteries, suddenly burst into great jets of flame, clouds of smoke, and flying debris, as the shells showered down upon them. The explosions of shrapnel were easily distinguished from those of common shell, for the former almost invariably burst in the air, the smoke from the explosions standing out against the background of sky or hill like tufts of cotton-wool that had suddenly sprung into existence from nowhere. Very shortly after the artillery duel began, I saw the Japanese infantry moving out to storm the Nanshan Heights, and I smiled to myself at the acuteness of their leaders, for the men began their advance in such open formation that a shrapnel shell seldom succeeded in accounting for more than one man, and often enough it failed to do even that. Of course they were seen from the trenches, and a terrific rifle-fire was opened upon them, but for the same reason it was very ineffective--at the outset at least, for a rifleman had to be a crack shot to bowl over his man at a distance of close upon a mile. And if one wished to get his man, he had to aim at him, and correctly judge the distance too. This, of course, was at the beginning of the attack; later on, matters became a good deal more favourable for the defenders and correspondingly adverse to the attacking force. I was interestedly watching the development of the attack upon the heights, when a galloper dashed up to me with a message from the General requesting me to signal our ships in the offing to concentrate their fire upon the Nanshan ridge; and so smart were our men, and so keen a lookout were they maintaining aboard our ships, that within three minutes of the receipt by me of the order, their 10-inch, 5-inch, and 6-inch shells were dropping all along the ridge, busily searching it for the Russian batteries, the positions of which, unfortunately, could not be seen from the western side. For the next half-hour I was kept incessantly employed in signalling our fleet, directing their fire; but the shoal water of Kinchau Bay was all against us, and although our ships drew in so close that they touched the ground several times, they were still too far off to actually silence the Russian batteries, although they contrived to give them a very severe punishing and, to some extent, distract their attention from the stormers. Unfortunately, they could only muster six heavy guns between them, and these, at the extreme range at which they were obliged to fire, were not nearly enough, though they certainly helped. When at length I was once more free to turn my attention to what was happening on the eastern side of the heights, I saw that our foremost line of skirmishers had reached a spot about a mile distant from the first Russian defences, consisting of a perfect maze of wire entanglements, and were signalling back to the main body. Almost immediately a detachment of Cossacks appeared, advancing at a gallop toward the signallers, from the direction of Linshiatun, a village on the shore of Sunk Bay, and as the horsemen appeared every Japanese soldier vanished, as if by magic, having flung himself down upon the ground and taken cover. On swept the Cossacks, yelling, lashing their horses with their whips, and brandishing their long lances. Suddenly, down went a horse and rider, the next instant a Cossack flung up his arms and collapsed inert upon his horse's neck, then another reeled and fell, then two or three went down almost at the same instant, then half a dozen. And the curious thing about it was that there was nothing, no sudden spurt of flame, no smoke wreath, no crack of a rifle, to account for these casualties. That is to say, I could neither see nor hear anything; but the fact was that those Cossacks were going down before the calm, deliberate rifle-fire of the concealed Japanese infantry-men. Then a flash from one of the field-guns of our 3rd Division caught my eye, and before the sharp bark of it reached my ear, a white tuft of cotton-wool-like smoke suddenly appeared in the air above the galloping Cossacks, and more of them went down. Another flash, and another, and another, more tufts of cotton-wool leaping into view, tremendous disorder and confusion among the Cossacks, men and horses falling right and left, and then the survivors suddenly wheeled outward and galloped back at headlong speed, leaving behind them a mangled heap of men and horses, the greater number dead, but here and there a prostrate, kicking horse might be seen, or a wounded Cossack crawling slowly and painfully away from the scene of carnage. The flight of the Cossacks was the signal for the resumption of the advance by the Japanese, whose skirmishers reappeared, still in very open formation, a man here and a man there showing for a few seconds as, in a crouching attitude, he rose to his feet, scurried forward a few yards, and then again took cover, while the fire of the Russian guns swept the ground over which he was passing. As yet, however, there appeared to be very few casualties among our men; here and there I noticed a prostrate form lying motionless, while others crept up and scuttled past him; he had been found by a shrapnel shell, and his share of the work was done; but even shrapnel cannot do much harm if the formation is kept sufficiently open. And as man after man pushed forward, others crept out, following, until the whole of the ground between our lines and the base of the heights was dotted with Japanese infantry-men creeping ever closer up to the first line of the Russian defence, the terrible maze of barbed wire entanglements. Meanwhile, the whole of the Japanese field artillery, as well as that of our ships, was concentrating its fire upon the crest of the heights, covering the advance of the stormers; and now my attention was once more diverted from that advance by the necessity for me to signal directions to the fleet. And now it was that the full value of my previous labours began to be manifested; for I had but to signal the ships to direct their fire upon such and such a point--wherever, in fact, a Russian battery was proving especially troublesome--and all that the gun-layers had to do was to refer to the maps with which I had supplied them, and they were at once informed of the exact range of that point, with the result that a hail of shells instantly began to fall upon that particular battery with the most deadly precision. Thus, after a little while, every battery on the heights became in turn the focus of a terrific crossfire from the ships and the field batteries, the effect of which soon became manifest in the silencing of several of the Russian guns, either by dismounting, or, as we afterwards discovered, by the complete destruction of the men working them. With the guns of our fleet playing such havoc among the ten forts which crowned the heights, it now became possible for our field artillery to turn its attention upon the trenches, tier after tier of which lined the eastern slope of the heights, up which our stormers would have to pass. Those trenches were quite formidable works, roofed over with timber and earth to protect the occupants from artillery fire, and loopholed for rifle-fire; yet, thanks again to my labours of the previous day in determining the exact range of them, our guns were able to search them from end to end, blowing the parapets to dust and matchwood, and hurling the wreckage among the gunners who were working the Russian quick-firers and machine-guns, many of whom were thus killed or wounded. The carnage must have been--indeed was, as we later saw for ourselves--frightful, yet the Russians maintained a most gallant defence, and clung to their trenches with unflinching determination. A lucky shell from one of our field-guns fell upon and exploded one of the many Russian mines which were scattered pretty thickly over the hillside, and the explosion blew a big gap in one of the lines of wire entanglements, a circumstance which without doubt resulted subsequently in the saving of many lives. Hour after hour the artillery duel proceeded, our gunners doing their utmost to cover the slow advance of the stormers, while the Russian artillery systematically swept with a crossfire every inch of the ground which our men would have to traverse. The crash of the artillery was continuous and most distracting, and the effect was intensified by the incessant scream of the shells and the sharp thud as they burst, interspersed with the everlasting hammering of the machine-guns and quick-firers; Nanshan was ablaze with the fire of the Russian guns and the bursting of our shells, and the entire hill was enwrapped in fantastically whirling wreaths of smoke which were every moment rent violently asunder by the explosion of bursting shells. Thus far I had occupied my position undisturbed, but about mid-morning certain Russian sharpshooters chanced to detect me and my assistant in the act of signalling to our ships, and they at once favoured me with their undivided attentions, to such purpose that I was compelled to beat a hasty retreat. The change of position which I was compelled to make was, however, advantageous rather than otherwise, for I found a perfectly safe spot behind two tall boulders standing close together, which, while effectually shielding me from the Russian bullets, still enabled me to see all that was happening. Yet, that "all" might be summed up in a very few words--just incessant flashes of fire, great volumes of smoke, and, interspersed with the smoke, patches of flying debris. Very little else. No great masses of troops advancing in serried lines, column after column, with colours proudly flying, and burnished bayonets glistening in the sun; none of the old-fashioned pomp and circumstance of war when the opposing armies marched toward each other with bands playing, discharged their muskets when they were near enough to see the whites of their opponents' eyes, and then charged with fixed bayonets, fighting it out hand to hand. That sort of battle went out of fashion with the introduction of the breech-loading rifle and the machine-gun; and now, with between fifty and sixty thousand men in action, there were periods when not a solitary human being could be seen. And when any did appear, which was only at intervals, they were but few in number--just a man here and a man there dotted about sparsely over a large area of ground, visible for perhaps half a dozen seconds, and then lost again, hidden behind cover of some sort. It was getting well on toward noon when a message reached me from the General to the effect that two batteries of Russian quick-fire field-guns had been discovered on the summit of Nan-kwang-ling--a hill some eight hundred feet high, about a mile to the westward of the Nanshan Heights--and requesting me to signal our ships in the bay to give their whole attention to those two batteries. Unfortunately for us, the tide in the bay was now on the ebb, and the _Hei-yen_ and _Tsukushi_ were obliged to haul off to avoid grounding; but the _Akagi_ and _Chokai_ responded nobly to the call, creeping in until they actually felt the ground, and enveloping Nan-kwang-ling knoll in flame and smoke. I had scarcely finished signalling to the ships when a stir on the plain immediately below me indicated that the General considered the artillery "preparation" complete, and that the actual storming of the Russian position was now to be attempted. A battalion of our 1st Division, situated in the Japanese centre, suddenly deployed into the open, and commenced its advance by making a series of short rushes through some fields of green barley, on the opposite side of the road from Kinchau to Linshiatun, dashing forward a few yards, and then, as the machine-guns and rifles in the Russian trenches were turned upon them, sinking from view into the barley, through which they crept on hands and knees until the whistle of the leader or the call of a bugle gave the signal for another dash. The heroism of those devoted Japanese infantry was something to send a thrill through the heart of a man; no sooner did they show than the whole of the ground which they occupied and that in front of them was swept by a devastating crossfire from the whole line of the Russian trenches, which beat down the young barley as a heavy shower of rain might level it. To me, unaccustomed to this style of fighting, it looked as though nothing might venture upon that shot-swept zone and live; yet time after time the intrepid Japanese rose to their feet and, crouching low, made yet another short rush forward, though with sadly diminished numbers. The uproar was deafening; the crash of the heavy guns upon the crest of the heights and from Fort Hoshangtao, near Linshiatun, which now joined in the fray, mingled with the hammer-like thudding of the machine-guns and the continuous rolling crackle of rifle-fire from the trenches, was frightful. And then, as though this were not enough, the Russian gunboat _Bohr_ turned her 9-inch guns upon the advancing Japanese and, quickly getting the range, began to drop shells right among them. The slaughter, one understood, must be awful; yet, prepared as I was in a measure for what followed, I stood aghast when finally, out of that whole battalion, a mere handful of men, numbering perhaps some fifty or sixty, emerged from the growing barley and made a staggering rush toward the first line of wire entanglements, which they at once proceeded to attack with nippers, fully exposed all the while to the concentrated fire of the whole body of defenders. It was a forlorn hope of the most desperate description, and one after another the gallant fellows collapsed and died, pierced by innumerable bullets. The first assault had resulted in failure, and those who took part in it were wiped out! And now it was that the Russians deemed the moment suitable for a counter-demonstration. The _Bohr_, doubtless in obedience to some signal from the shore, steamed up toward the head of Hand Bay as far as the shoaling water would permit, the five steamers loaded with troops closely following her and making as though it was their intention to land the troops upon a small promontory jutting out into the head of the bay. This was a distinct menace to the Japanese left, and although it might be merely a demonstration, it was imperative to meet it, or it might develop into a serious and most embarrassing attack; therefore, badly as it could be spared from the task of shelling the heights and the Russian trenches, a battery of our field-guns placed on the south-western slope of Mount Sampson was turned upon the gunboat and her accompanying flotilla of steamers, the latter being compelled to hastily retire, while several of our shells struck the _Bohr_, and temporarily silenced her fire. Judging from appearances generally, the gunboat appeared to have been rather severely punished; and about a quarter of an hour later she slowly retired to her former position, farther down the bay, and re-opened her fire, although with considerably less vigour than before. The fire from Fort Hoshangtao, occupying the promontory which separates Sunk Bay from Hand Bay, was a most galling factor in the fight, for its guns had a range which enabled them to drop their heavy shells right upon our left and centre, while it was out of range of our own guns. Therefore our men had to stand motionless, hour after hour, and endure the pitiless shelling of the Russian gunners, with the bitter knowledge that to silence the fort was quite out of our power. The utter annihilation of the first battalion of stormers warned General Oku that to advance comparatively small parties was but to sacrifice them uselessly, while it also indicated that the task of artillery "preparation" had been by no means as complete as he had judged it to be; he therefore sedulously continued the work of preparation all through the afternoon until five o'clock, when a message from the artillery commander warned him that the crisis was at hand. The message was to the effect that he had fired away practically his entire supply of ammunition, only his reserve rounds remaining. What was he to do? Situated as I was at a distance of more than two miles from headquarters, upon an outlying spur of the Nanshan Heights, and quite alone, save for the companionship of a solitary assistant signaller, with only occasional curt orders from the General in reference to the signals which he wished me to transmit to our ships in the offing, I was naturally ignorant as to the critical pass at which we had arrived, and could only draw my conclusions from what I actually saw happening. What occurred at staff headquarters during this momentous day, and especially at this momentous hour, I did not learn until several hours later, but, so far as is possible, I propose to relate events in their chronological order, that the proper continuity of my narrative may be maintained; I will therefore briefly state here that when the General received the artillery commander's message that his ammunition was practically exhausted, he summoned a few of his principal officers, and held a brief council of war. What was to be done, under the circumstances? It was now five o'clock in the afternoon, and the bringing up of further supplies of ammunition would involve a delay of at least two hours, and probably more, while to suspend all action meanwhile would practically be to defer the assault until the next day. Certain of the officers present strongly advocated this postponement, giving it as their opinion that to attempt to storm the heights unsupported by adequate gun-fire was merely to make a useless sacrifice of whole brigades of sorely needed men; one or two officers, indeed, ventured to express their conviction that the heights were impregnable. The discussion lasted about a quarter of an hour, at the end of which time General Oku, who had been listening but saying nothing, abruptly broke up the council by announcing his determination to risk everything upon a single cast of the die; the gunners were to expend their reserve rounds of ammunition upon a slow, carefully considered, deadly bombardment of the heights, while the entire infantry force was to move forward simultaneously to the assault. The officers who had ventured to advise delay shook their heads doubtfully, but at once proceeded to their stations, fully prepared to loyally support the General to their last breath. When the news of the General's decision was communicated to the troops, it was only with the utmost difficulty that they could be restrained from cheering, and so putting the Russians on the _qui vive_, although they had been warned beforehand to maintain strict silence. The first step in the proceedings was for the officers commanding the various regiments to call for volunteers prepared to undertake the task of preceding the main body of the stormers in order to cut a way through the lines of wire entanglements, and to sever the electric cables connecting the innumerable ground mines with the forts. Volunteers were invited to step six paces to the front, and in the majority of cases the entire regiment appealed to advanced six paces with the precision and promptitude of a parade evolution. Under such circumstances there was, of course, but one thing to be done, and that was for each captain to choose a certain number of men--those he considered best adapted for the work--and detail them for the duty. These men, a veritable Forlorn Hope, discarding knapsacks, greatcoats, everything in the shape of impedimenta, even their weapons, and armed only with a stout pair of wire-cutting nippers, dashed out of the ranks like unleashed greyhounds at the word of command, and with a great shout of "Banzai Nippon!" went running and leaping through the fields of young barley, each eager to outdistance all the others. And as they went, the crash of their own and the enemy's artillery, the fire of which had been languishing, burst forth afresh, mingled with the hammering of machine-guns and the rolling volleys of rifle-fire. In a moment the whole of the ground over which the pioneers would have to pass was being swept by a crossfire of lead in which it seemed impossible that anything could live. Man after man was seen to go down, yet still his comrades pressed on, in ever-diminishing numbers, until at length a mere handful staggered up to the first line of wire entanglements, and there fell, riddled with bullets, their task unaccomplished. But not for a moment did their fate discourage those who were detailed to follow them. Like racers they dashed forward, in widely extended order, now leaping high in the air and anon crouching almost double in a vain effort to dodge that terrible inexorable hail of bullets, and again man after man went crashing to the ground while other panting, gasping, breathless men staggered and stumbled past the prostrate figures, intent upon one purpose only, to reach that line of wire and sever a few of the entanglements before yielding up their lives. And a few of them actually contrived to accomplish their purpose before they died, although the damage which they were able to do was quite incommensurate with the frightful sacrifice of life which it cost. In accordance with Oku's plan, the main body of the stormers followed closely upon the heels of the volunteer wire-cutters. The 1st Division led the way, dashing forward and losing heavily, until they arrived within a few yards of the foremost line of Russian trenches, and here they were brought to a standstill by the wire entanglements, while the Russian rifle and machine-gun-fire played upon them pitilessly, mowing them down in heaps. In desperation some of them seized the firmly rooted posts to which the wires were attached and strove to root them up by main force, while others placed the muzzles of their rifles against the wires and, pulling the trigger, severed them in that way. Some attempted to climb over the wire, others to creep through; but where one succeeded, twenty became entangled and were shot dead before they could clear themselves. Those, however, who contrived to get through at once gave their attention to the mines, the positions of which were clearly indicated by the settlement of the ground caused by the rain of the preceding night, and thus it became possible to sever several of the electric cables which connected them with the forts. But those awful entanglements still held up the main body of the stormers, keeping them fully exposed to a murderous fire from the trenches as they desperately strove to break through, and things were beginning to look very bad indeed for our side when I chanced to notice that the Russian lines on their left were weak, the bulk of the men having been rushed toward the centre, where the attack was being most fiercely pressed. In an instant I recognised that here was our opportunity, our only opportunity perhaps, to retrieve the fortune of the day. Turning to my companion, I said: "I dare not leave my post here, for at any moment I may receive a message to be signalled to our ships. But I can--I _will_--manage single-handed for the next quarter of an hour or so if you are game to sprint across the open to carry a message from me to General Ogawa. You will find him somewhere yonder, in command of the 4th Division; and if you run hard you can cover the distance in five minutes. Are you game to try it?" "I am honourably game, illustrious captain," replied the man, standing at the salute. "Good!" I said. "Then make your way as quickly as possible to General Ogawa, and when you have found him, say you come from me, Captain Swinburne. Explain to him where I am posted, and tell him that from here I can see that the Russian left has been so greatly weakened that a surprise attack on his part would certainly turn it, and thus very materially help the frontal attack. Tell him it will be necessary for him to lead his troops along the shore of the bay in that direction,"-- pointing; "say that it may even be necessary for his troops to enter the water and wade for some distance, since the tide is rising; but that if he will do that, I am certain he can retrieve the day. You understand? Then, go!" With a salute, the man swung round upon his heels and sprang away down the hill, running like a startled hare, and in less than five minutes I saw him rush into the lines of the 4th Division. Then, feeling pretty confident that Ogawa would recognise the opportunity and seize it, I snatched up the signal flags that my assistant had dropped and proceeded to call up the fleet. After calling for about a minute, I dropped the flags and placed my glasses to my eyes. It was all right, they were keeping a bright lookout afloat, and the _Tsukushi_ was waiting to receive my message. I therefore at once proceeded to signal them to be ready to support the anticipated movement with their gun-fire; and by the time that I had done, the men of the 19th Brigade were proceeding at something a bit faster than the "double" toward the shore, while every gun in the squadron opened in their support. As I had anticipated, the troops were obliged to actually enter the waters of the bay, which in some places rose breast-high; but they pushed through, losing rather heavily, and hurled themselves upon the Russian flank and rear, while the others, getting an inkling of what was happening from the sounds of heavy firing on the other side of the hill, pressed home the frontal attack, thus keeping the Russian main body busily engaged. With yells of "Banzai! Banzai Nippon!" the men of the 19th Brigade fought their way forward, foot by foot, using rifle and bayonet with such furious energy that suddenly the Russians broke and fled before them, and with howls of exultation the victorious Japanese scrambled forward and upward until their figures became visible to their comrades below, still fighting desperately in the effort to break through the Russian lines. Thirty engineers of the victorious 4th Division were now detailed to cut a path through the wire entanglements that still protected the Russian trenches; _and they did it_, lying flat upon the ground without attempting to raise their heads. Twenty-two out of the thirty were killed in the accomplishment of the task, but a way was made, and through it poured Ogawa's gallant brigade, the 8th Regiment taking the lead, and the next moment they were in the Russian trenches, fighting desperately, hand to hand, the Japanese determined to drive out the Russians, and the Russians equally determined to hold their ground at all costs. And now the stormers of the 1st and 3rd Divisions, seeing the success of their comrades, were stung into the making of a further effort, and, hurling themselves bodily upon the entanglements, actually broke them down by sheer physical force, although hundreds were horribly mangled in the process, and despite the awful fire from rifles and machine-guns that mowed through them, up they swept irresistibly until, with deafening yells of "Banzai!" they joined their victorious comrades on the crest and planted the banner of Japan upon the topmost height of Nanshan. For a few brief, breathless minutes the members of the staff, watching from below, beheld the glint and ruddy flash of bayonets in the light of the setting sun as the Russians made a last desperate effort to hold their ground; but the Japanese infantry, intoxicated with their success in the face of stupendous difficulties, would take no denial: they had conquered wire entanglements, braved machine-gun-fire, and now mere flesh and blood was as powerless to stop them as a thread is to stop a battleship. The Russians simply had to fly or die; and they chose the former alternative, retreating in disorder upon Nankwang-ling, while the Japanese, whose turn it was now to take revenge for the losses so pitilessly inflicted upon them all through the hours of that terrible day, rained shot and shell without mercy upon the flying foe. The weather had been improving ever since morning, and now, as the firing gradually died down, the sun sank into the waters of the Gulf of Liaotung in a blaze of purple and golden splendour. As the palpitant edge of his glowing upper rim vanished beneath the long level line of the western horizon, the firing on both sides suddenly ceased altogether, and a great, solemn hush fell upon the scene, that was positively awe-inspiring after the continuous, deafening roar all day of the cannonade, and the crash of bursting shells. And then, as the ear accustomed itself to that sudden silence, it became aware of a low but terrible sound breaking it, the moaning of hundreds of mangled, suffering, and dying men, the ghastly fruits of that ferocious struggle for the possession of a few barren acres of rough, hilly country. Suddenly the fast-gathering dusk of evening became illuminated; the station buildings in the little village of To-fang-shan were ablaze, doubtless purposely set on fire by the Russians to hinder possible pursuit--and were soon a mass of flame, the flickering light from which luridly illuminated the scored and gashed sides of the neighbouring hills. Finally, with a terrific roar, a Russian magazine exploded, sending up a great column of flame and smoke; and as the reverberations of the explosion rumbled and echoed again and again until they finally died away among the gorges and ravines of the surrounding elevations, silence again sank upon the scene, the victorious Japanese being so utterly exhausted by their Herculean labours that pursuit of the flying Russians became impossible, the conquerors flinging themselves down on the positions which they had gained, and instantly sinking into a kind of lethargy, their fatigue being so great that they were unable to remain awake long enough to partake of the food that was quickly prepared for them. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. I AM THANKED IN PRESENCE OF THE ARMY. The Japanese loss, incurred in the struggle for possession of the Nanshan Heights, amounted to over four thousand, killed and wounded. What the Russian loss in killed and wounded totalled up to I do not think we ever knew, excepting that, by the evidence of the captured trenches alone, it must have been tremendously heavy. Their material losses, however, amounted to sixty-eight guns, many of which were of 8-inch or 6-inch calibre, ten machine-guns, three searchlights, a dynamo, and a considerable quantity of ammunition and food; while the victory gave to the Japanese the complete command of the isthmus, by enabling General Nakamura to seize Linshiatun, and Fort Hoshangtao, in its immediate neighbourhood, thus opening the way to the occupation of Nan-kwang-ling and Dalny, and the advance of Oku's army upon Port Arthur. As soon as it became evident that fighting was over for the day--by which time it had become too dark for me to signal to our squadron in the offing--I made my way down the hillside to the spot where the headquarters staff was established and, seeking General Oku's tent, entered and reported myself. The General received me very kindly and courteously, but I could see in a moment that he was tremendously busy, the tent being full of officers to whom he was rapidly issuing orders. Having therefore reported myself and received orders to remain in camp for the night, I withdrew and sought the hospitality of my hosts of the previous night, who accorded me a very warm and cordial welcome. But there was none of that joyousness, that exaltation of spirits that I had expected to see as a result of the brilliant victory which we had gained; our numbers were less than they had been on the previous night, the absentees were lying out under the stars, either dead or wounded, somewhere yonder upon those shot-scored, blood-drenched slopes of Nanshan, and the joy of victory was quenched in sorrow for the fallen. We snatched a hasty, almost silent meal, and then those of us who had not to go forth on duty rolled ourselves in our cloaks and sought the relief of sleep. For my own part, I slept like a log, and only awoke when the bugles sounded the reveille. Our little party turned out, tubbed, took breakfast, and then, at the sound of the "assembly," sallied forth to see what was to be the next item on the programme. Strong ambulance parties had been busily engaged all through the night, collecting the wounded and bringing them in to the hospital tents, but that work was now practically finished, and the preparations for the disposal of the dead had not yet been begun. The still weary troops were falling in, under arms, and in the distance I recognised General Oku, surrounded by the members of his staff, already on the ground. The commanding officers were at their posts, the non-commissioned officers were busily engaged in seeing that the troops were all in order for inspection, and a few minutes later the roll call was being gone through. This done, the troops were put through a few simple evolutions which terminated in their being drawn up in close formation constituting three sides of a hollow square, with the men all facing inward. General Oku then summoned an aide-de-camp to his side, gave him a brief order, and the aide, saluting, turned away and glanced rapidly about him, finally making his way toward where I now stood alone, at no great distance. He halted within about six paces of me, saluted, and said: "The Commander-in-Chief desires your immediate presence, most honourable Captain. He stands yonder." "Right!" I said. "I will join him at once. Have you any idea what he wants me for?" "I think I can guess," replied my companion, as he fell into step beside me, "but I am sure that the General will prefer to make that known to you himself." I said no more, and a couple of minutes later we halted before the general staff, and Oku took and returned my salute. Then he shook hands with me with much cordiality, and requested me to take up a position alongside him, on his right hand. This done, he proceeded to make a little speech to the closely packed troops. Shorn of the rather strange--to Western ears--flowery phraseology peculiar to the Japanese, his speech ran somewhat as follows: "Soldiers of the Second Japanese Army, I gladly seize the first available opportunity that presents itself to tender you, on behalf of our august Emperor and the people of Japan, my most heartfelt thanks for the glorious victory which, by your indomitable courage and self-sacrifice, you so nobly achieved yesterday. The difficulties which you were called upon to surmount were so stupendous and the valour of the enemy so great, that there was a moment when I almost became persuaded that the position which you were attacking was impregnable, and that all the courage and devotion which you had displayed had gone for nothing. Yet I could not quite bring myself to believe that soldiers of Japan would ever permit themselves to be beaten, under any circumstances, however adverse; I therefore called upon you again for one last, supreme effort, and the valour and devotion with which you responded to my call is attested by the victorious presence of our glorious flag upon the heights to-day." Here the General was interrupted by a soul-stirring shout of "Banzai!" from the exultant troops. The echoes of the shout had not died away among the surrounding hills before the serried masses of infantry were once more silent and motionless as statues, and Oku resumed: "I am proud, your officers are proud, and I am sure that you yourselves are proud, of your glorious achievement. Yet we soldiers must not arrogate to ourselves the entire credit of so magnificent a victory. Without the assistance of the navy, that victory--I say it frankly-- would have been impossible. The sailors therefore are entitled to an equal share of the glory which we yesterday reaped on the slopes of those terrible heights; and I rejoice that chance has afforded me so early an opportunity as this to tender my personal thanks, the thanks of my officers, and the thanks of every soldier in the ranks, to the navy, here represented by the noble and gallant Captain Swinburne." Here there were further shouts of "Banzai!" even more enthusiastic, if that were possible, than those which preceded them. The General raised his hand for silence, and presently proceeded: "We are, however, indebted to Captain Swinburne, not only as representing the navy, but also in a purely personal form. All through the trying hours of yesterday he stood on the slopes of those heights, alone save for the companionship of a solitary signaller, exposed, during some part of the time, to the pitiless fire of the enemy, and in constant danger of being captured; and during the whole of that time he devoted himself unsparingly to the task of directing the fire of our ships to the spots where from time to time it was most urgently needed; crowning this great service by sending a communication to the commander of the 4th Division which enabled that officer to effect the diversion which resulted in our hard-won victory. I have, therefore, now in the presence of you all, the honour to tender to Captain Swinburne, on behalf of our august Emperor, thus publicly, heartfelt thanks for the inestimably valuable services which he yesterday rendered to the cause of Japan." So saying, General Oku turned to me and gave me a hearty handshake, an example which was immediately followed by the officers of the staff, while the troops put their caps upon their bayonets and waved them enthusiastically, yelling "Banzai!" until I am sure they must have felt as hoarse as crows. This little ceremony over, I received the General's permission to rejoin my ship as soon as he had penned a dispatch to Admiral Misamichi, who was in command of the squadron, and which he requested me to deliver. This dispatch I received about half an hour later, from Oku's own hands, whereupon I bade him and the members of his staff farewell, wished them the best of luck in their further encounters with the enemy, and then hurried away to the little cove on the north side of the bay, which I had used on two or three previous occasions, and where I had a shrewd suspicion that I should find my boat awaiting me. I was not mistaken, and shortly after six bells in the forenoon watch I was aboard the _Tsukushi_, handing over General Oku's dispatch to the Admiral. The latter at once read it, and seemed much gratified at its contents, which, however, he did not communicate to me. But I shrewdly surmised that it was a letter of thanks for the services rendered by the squadron and an intimation that our presence was no longer needed. And, so far as the latter part of my assumption was concerned, I was doubtless right, for after a little chat, during which I briefly related my experiences of the previous day--learning in return that the _Chokai_ had lost her commander and two men killed, with two lieutenants and five men wounded--I received instructions to return to my ship, as the squadron would presently proceed to rejoin Admiral Togo at his base. And an hour later we were all steaming out of the bay. Two days after our arrival at the base, the destroyer _Kagero_ arrived with mails for the fleet, and, to my great surprise, she brought for me a letter from my Uncle Bob, as well as one from my chum, young Gordon, and another from Sir Robert. Naturally, I first opened the letter from Uncle Bob, for not only was it the first letter which I had received from any of the family since my "disgrace," but also the envelope was deeply edged with black, and my first fear was that it might contain the announcement of the death of dear Aunt Betsy. But upon extracting the contents of the envelope I was at once reassured, for I saw that it really consisted of two letters, one from Uncle Bob, and the other from my aunt. There had been a death in the family, however, that of Cousin Bob, the author of the trouble which had resulted in my dismissal from the British Navy. It appeared that while engaged in battle practice there had been a bad accident on board the _Terrible_, one of her quick-firers having burst, killing two men and wounding five others, one of the latter so seriously that he had subsequently died. That one was Bob; and when informed by the ship's surgeon that he had but a few hours to live, he had sent for the chaplain and to him had made a full confession of his crime, declaring that he had been spurred to it by blind, unreasoning jealousy of me. The chaplain, horrified at what he heard, took down the confession in writing, and poor Bob had signed it after the chaplain had added, at the dying lad's request, an expression of deep contrition for his misdeed and a prayer to me for forgiveness of the wrong which he had done me. The two letters were sad reading, for they had been penned by heart-broken people who had not only lost their only son, but had learned, at the very moment of their loss, that all their pride in him had been misplaced, and that he had been guilty of a deliberate, despicable, cruel crime. Their shame and sorrow were patent in every sentence of the letters, indeed they made no effort to conceal them, and they finished up by saying that, Bob being gone from them, and gone so tragically, they hoped I would forgive them for any hard thoughts they may have had of me, and would be a son to them in place of the one they had lost. They further begged that, my innocence now being established, I would lose no time in hastening home to them, to comfort them in their bitter bereavement, and to take steps to procure my reinstatement in the British Navy, which, they had been informed, might probably be accomplished without much difficulty under the circumstances. The letter from Sir Robert Gordon was also chiefly in reference to Bob's death, the particulars of which, and of his confession, he had learned from his son Ronald. He also was of opinion that, in view of Bob's confession, it ought not to be very difficult to secure the cancellation of my expulsion, whenever I might choose to return to England. But he said no word suggesting that I should return at once; on the contrary, he offered his own and Lady Gordon's very hearty congratulations upon the frequency with which my name had been mentioned in the papers as having been specially referred to by Togo in his dispatches, and they both expressed the hope that before the end of the war I should have many further opportunities to distinguish myself. The letters from my aunt and uncle moved me profoundly; their grief for the loss of their only son, and, even more, their shattered faith in him, was pathetic in the extreme, while it was easy to see how yearningly their hearts turned to me for comfort and consolation in their bitter bereavement. They were smarting with shame at the thought that it was _their_ son, the lad of whom they had been so proud and upon whose future they had built such high hopes, who was the author of my undeserved disgrace and ruin, so far as my career in the British Navy was concerned; and they wanted me at home in order that they might have the comfort of doing what they could to make up to me for their son's treachery. And in the plenitude of my affection I was, for the moment, more than half inclined to yield to their entreaties, resign my commission in the Japanese navy, and go home to them forthwith. But in the course of an hour or two calm reflection came to my aid; I would certainly return to England and endeavour to secure reinstatement in the navy of my own country, but not until after the war was over, if I lived so long. I had put my hand to the plough, and I would not turn back, although, of course, I knew that there were plenty of Japanese officers quite as good and useful as myself, and quite ready to step into my place, should I choose to vacate it. I came to the conclusion, however, that, let the authorities at home be ever so ready to remedy what had proved to be a miscarriage of justice, I should in nowise help my case with them by forsaking the cause which I had espoused, at the moment when the decisive events of the war were beginning, as we all then believed, to loom faintly upon the horizon. No, I told myself, if I wished for reinstatement--and I wished for nothing else half so ardently--I must remain until the issues of the war were decided, when I could go back home with a good grace, taking with me a fairly creditable record with which to back up my application. Meanwhile, I sat down and wrote a letter to my aunt and uncle, excusing myself for not at once acceding to their request to forthwith return to England, explaining the reasons which had urged me to that decision, and pouring out in a long, passionate declaration all the pent-up affection of my heart for them, and my sympathy with them in their bitter sorrow. I also wrote to Sir Robert Gordon, telling him that my aunt and uncle had expressed the desire that I should return to them forthwith, and reiterating the reasons which impelled me to decline. On the following day my signal was made from the flagship; and upon proceeding on board I was informed by the Admiral that General Oku's report as to the assistance rendered by the ships during the battle of Nanshan, and especially of the important services which I personally had rendered on that particular day and those which immediately preceded it, had been particularly gratifying to him, and that it had afforded him the utmost satisfaction and pleasure to forward that report to Baron Yamamoto, the Minister of the Navy, with a covering letter from himself which he hoped would be of service to me. Meanwhile, I was instructed to proceed forthwith to Port Arthur with my ship, to assist in the blockading of the port. We filled our bunkers and replenished our stock of ammunition during the afternoon, and steamed out of Tashantau harbour, with all lights out, as soon as darkness fell, steaming dead slow all night, and keeping a sharp lookout for enemy ships, as a rumour had reached the Admiral that the Russians were planning another raid upon the Japanese coast by the Vladivostock fleet, which might be expected to put to sea at any moment. But we saw nothing, and arrived off Port Arthur at daybreak on the following morning without adventure of any kind. Here we fell in with the cruisers of the blockading fleet, to the admiral in command of which I forthwith reported myself, and delivered over the mail bags for the blockading ships, with which I had been entrusted. My instructions were to remain with the blockaders during the daytime, while at night the _Kasanumi_ was to take part in the mine-laying operations in the roadstead of the beleaguered fortress, which were nightly conducted with untiring pertinacity. Shortly after my arrival, the destroyer flotilla which had been engaged in these operations during the night came steaming out, and among the approaching craft I recognised with pleasure the _Akatsuki_, still commanded by my former lieutenant and staunch friend, the enthusiastic Ito. That he had by no means forgotten me was quickly made manifest, for no sooner was he near enough to identify the _Kasanumi_ than his semaphore started work, signalling that he wished to communicate, and upon my signalman responding, his first question was whether I was still in command. Receiving a reply in the affirmative, he forthwith invited me to go on board his ship to take breakfast with him, and when I moved an amendment to the effect that the process should be reversed and that, instead, he should come and breakfast with me, upon the ground that, coming fresh from the rendezvous, my larder was probably better stocked than his, he at once joyously accepted the invitation, and a quarter of an hour later I had the very great pleasure of welcoming him on my own quarter-deck. The dear chap was just as enthusiastic, just as keen, just as full of life as ever, and seemed unfeignedly glad to see me. Of course we had a tremendous lot to say to each other, and I was most eager to learn what he had been doing since we parted company; but when he learned that I was fresh from Kinchau, and had actually assisted at the battle of the Nanshan Heights, he positively refused to say a single word about himself until I had given him a full, true, and particular account of all the happenings of that terrible yet glorious day. His enthusiasm and delight, as I endeavoured to describe the final irresistible rush of the Japanese up those heart-breaking, shot-swept slopes, were supreme; he seemed to literally swell with pride; and when I spoke of the thrilling Japanese cheer as his fellow-countrymen finally carried the last line of the Russian defences and routed the defenders, he leaped to his feet and repeated the shout of "Banzai!" again and again, while his eyes shone like stars, and tears of joy and pride rolled down his cheeks. It was some time before I could turn his mind away from the events of that strenuous day; and when at length I succeeded in doing so, and could get him to talk about himself, it appeared that, stirring though the events seemed to be which were nightly happening before Port Arthur, they were all flat, stale, and unprofitable, compared with such an event as the storming of the Nanshan Heights. And so, as a matter of fact, they were, as I soon discovered for myself; for the duty of our destroyer flotilla consisted simply in steaming inshore every night industriously laying mines in the roadstead and at the harbour's mouth, which the Russians as industriously strove to remove next day. True, the sameness of this work was occasionally relieved by a more or less exciting episode, as when, for instance, the Russians would suddenly turn their searchlights upon us and all their batteries would open fire. Then we simply had to scuttle for our lives, for, of course, the shore batteries mounted very much heavier and longer range guns than any that a destroyer could carry; and there was no sense in attempting, as a general rule, to oppose our 12-pounders and 6-pounders to their 6-inch and 11-inch guns. Yet we by no means allowed the Russians to invariably have it all their own way. There were times when, under cover of the darkness, one or two of us would creep right into the harbour entrance and, getting so close under the cliff that it became impossible for the Russians to depress their heavy guns sufficiently to reach us, would boldly engage the forts with our quick-firers, and even with rifle-fire, picking off any gunners that were foolhardy enough to expose themselves, and not unfrequently dismounting or otherwise putting out of action a few of their lighter guns. It was the good fortune of the _Kasanumi_, on one occasion, very shortly after our return, to strike one of the Russian 11-inch Canets, mounted in the fort between Golden Hill and the inner harbour, fair and square upon the muzzle and blow it clean off, with a shell from our 12-pounder; but such successes as these were of course very rare. These engagements between our destroyers and the Russian forts were immensely exciting, and afforded a most agreeable and welcome change from the monotony of mine-laying, for when we undertook such an adventure we never knew whether or not we should emerge from it scatheless. The operation of getting in close under the cliffs, undetected, was of course hazardous enough to make the attempt irresistibly fascinating; but it was the getting away again after the alarm had been given and all the enemy's searchlights had been turned upon us, when the excitement reached its height; for, of course, the moment that we were far enough away from the shelter of the beetling cliffs to enable the Russians to train their big guns upon us, they would open fire upon us for all that they were worth, and then it became a case of dodging the shells. It was then that our ingenuity was taxed to the very utmost, twisting and turning hither and thither as we ran at full speed into the offing, always endeavouring to make a turn in the most unexpected direction possible at the precise moment when we anticipated that the guns were being brought to bear upon us. And that, on the whole, we were fairly successful was pretty conclusively evidenced by the small amount of damage which we sustained. Indeed, our most serious mishap about this time in those waters arose from a totally different cause. One of our officers, a certain Commander Oda, had invented a particularly deadly kind of mine, which the Japanese Government adopted, and which they named after the inventor. A few days after my return to the waters of Port Arthur, Oda himself was engaged upon the task of laying some of his mines in the outer roadstead, when one of them somehow exploded, killing the captain of the ship and eighteen men, and wounding Oda himself and seven others. Strangely enough, however, the ship herself was only very slightly damaged. Less fortunate were the Russians; for, only a day or two later, two of their gunboats, while engaged in the attempt to remove some of our mines, came in contact with them, and both craft immediately went to the bottom, taking most of their men with them. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE FLOATING MINE. It is a true saying, that "the pitcher which goes too often to the well gets broken at last;" and thus it came about with me, or rather with the _Kasanumi_. As the days passed, we became aware of greatly increased activity on the part of the garrison of Port Arthur. Cruising in the offing during the daytime, well beyond the range of the Russian's biggest guns, yet near enough at hand to make sure that our blockade of the port was effective, the sound of violent explosions came floating off to us all day long, telling us in unmistakable language that strenuous efforts were being made to clear the channel of the sunken steamers wherewith we had blocked it, at such heavy cost to ourselves. There could be but one reason for such tremendous activity: it was doubtless that the enemy had it in contemplation to send his fleet to sea, probably with the object of finding a more secure shelter in the port of Vladivostock, a surmise which was confirmed by our spies in Port Arthur. If still further confirmation of this intention were needed, it was to be found in the increased efforts which the Russians put forth to hamper our mine-laying operations in the roadstead; for about this time it became the practice of the enemy to send out a ship, sometimes two, or even three, to lie at anchor in the roads all night. The ship, or ships, always anchored well under the cover of the heaviest guns of the fortress, yet so far out that her, or their, own heavy guns completely commanded the waters of the roadstead, thus tremendously increasing the difficulty of sowing those waters with mines. Naturally, the presence of these ships in the roadstead offered an almost irresistible temptation to our destroyers to essay the task of sinking them, or at least putting them out of action; and this desire on our part was smiled upon by Togo, to put the case mildly, for information was now continually reaching us to the effect that the formidable Baltic fleet was being rapidly prepared for sea, and that its departure on its long voyage to the Far East was imminent; while Togo was naturally anxious that the Port Arthur fleet--and the Vladivostock fleet also, if possible--should be effectually disposed of before the arrival of so powerful a reinforcement in Japanese waters. Therefore, great as was the risk attending the attack of a powerfully armed ship at anchor under the cover of several formidable forts, and careful as our Admiral was, both of his ships and of his men, no attempt was made to discourage us of the torpedo flotilla when our desire to attack was made known; on the contrary, the desire was smiled upon, as I have said, and nothing more than a word of caution was given against the incurring of unnecessary risks. Perhaps I ought to explain precisely what I mean by saying that the desire of the commander of the torpedo flotilla to attack these ships was "smiled upon" by the Admiral. He had not only "smiled upon" but had given imperative orders that the torpedo fleet was to be employed upon every possible occasion for the harassing and discomfiture of the enemy; but hitherto the tactics employed had been for the destroyers and torpedo-boats to attack in numbers, a division or even two or three divisions being sent in at a time. It was due to my initiative that these tactics were now to be altered, and that attacks were now to be permitted by as few as two boats only. Up to now it had been our regular practice for a large number of craft to creep in toward the roadstead at a low speed until discovered by the enemy's searchlights, and then dash in upon the foe at our utmost speed, through a hail of shells, discharge our torpedoes as we circled round our quarry, and then dash out again, trusting to our speed to carry us back into the zone of safety. Of course this plan had its advantages, inasmuch as that the more there were of us, the greater--in theory--the chance that some of us would score a hit. But against this there was the fact that during the final rush of the torpedo craft upon the enemy, the necessity to maintain our highest speed throughout the entire period of the attack involved forced draught, and consequently flaming funnels, which latter of course immediately attracted the attention of the enemy and nullified all our efforts to take him by surprise. Now, I had by this time gained a considerable amount of experience of torpedo warfare, and I had not failed to observe that in the majority of cases where our attacks had failed, the failure had been due to the above cause, combined with the fact that ten or a dozen craft ran a much greater risk of being picked up by the enemy's searchlights than would one or two. It had therefore seemed to me that, taking everything into consideration, the prospects of successful attack by two craft--one to support and assist the other in case of need--were as good as those of a dozen craft, while the risk would be very much less, provided that the attack were made coolly and circumspectly in accordance with a plan which I had worked out. This plan was, in brief, to run for the harbour at normal speed until we were practically within effective range, and then, instead of dashing in at full speed, to stop our engines--the throb of which was loud enough to be heard at a considerable distance on a quiet night--and head directly for our quarry, discharging our torpedoes when the momentum or "way" of the boat had carried her as far as she would go, trusting to the subsequent confusion to enable us to escape unscathed. I had fully explained this view of mine to the Admiral, and had obtained his sanction to put my plan to the test. Accordingly, on a certain night toward the middle of June, after the Russians had been let severely alone for some forty-eight hours, the _Kasanumi_, accompanied by the _Akaisuki_, my friend Ito's ship, left the rest of the blockaders, with the object of putting my theory into practice. It was a splendid night for our purpose; there was a breathless calm, the water was smooth as oil, and although there was certainly a moon, she was in her last quarter, and did not rise until close upon one o'clock in the morning. Moreover, the sky was overcast by a great sheet of dappled cloud through which only a solitary star here and there peeped faintly; it was consequently dark enough to afford us a reasonable chance of getting within striking distance of our quarry undetected. When the Russians sent their ships out of harbour to lie all night in the roadstead, as they did pretty frequently now, it was their custom to get them out early in the afternoon, after their destroyers had carefully swept the anchorage in search of mines; and it was my hope that--we having left them alone for the preceding two days--they would by this time be getting suspicious of such unwonted inactivity on our part, and consequently would send out one, or perhaps even two ships, to guard against a possible _coup_ on our part. Our mine-laying craft very rarely got to work before one or two o'clock in the morning, that being the hour when human vigilance is popularly supposed to be least active; I therefore planned to arrive in the roadstead about midnight, hoping that I should then catch the enemy off his guard, snatching a rest in preparation for the moment when our activities usually began. Now, the thing which we had most to fear was a long-distance searchlight established in a station on Golden Hill, at a height of some two hundred feet above the sea-level. This searchlight was generally turned on at dusk, and was kept unceasingly playing upon the anchorage and its adjacent waters all through the night. It commanded the entire roadstead, from a point three miles east of the harbour's mouth, right round to the south and west as far as the Pinnacle Rock; and the difficulty was how to avoid being picked up by it before we had delivered our attack. But by this time I knew the seaward surroundings of Port Arthur almost by heart. I knew, for instance--and this was most important--that the searchlight station was placed so far back from the edge of the crumbling cliff that the water immediately at the foot of the latter, and for a distance of perhaps a hundred yards to seaward, could not be reached by the beam of the light, and was therefore enveloped in darkness, rendered all the deeper and more opaque by the dazzling brilliance of the light; and I also knew that along the outer edge of this patch of darkness there was a sufficient depth of water to float a destroyer, even at dead low water. My plan, therefore, was to make a wide sweep to seaward upon leaving the blockading squadron, gradually turning east and north, and thus eventually to get into Takhe Bay, some five miles east of Port Arthur anchorage, and from thence creep along the shore to the westward, keeping as close in as the depth of water would permit. There was only one difficulty about this, which was that at a certain point not far from where the searchlight station stood, there was a gap in the line of cliff where the ground sloped steeply down to the water's edge for a short distance, and here of course the beam of the light had uninterrupted play right up to the beach; but I believed I could overcome this difficulty by simply watching my opportunity and slipping past the gap when the searchlight was not playing upon it. All went well with us until about seven bells in the first watch (half-past eleven o'clock) when a great bank of fog, for which those seas are notorious, came driving in from the south-west, and in a moment we were enveloped in a cloud so thick that, standing upon the bridge, I could scarcely distinguish our aftermost funnel, and could not see our taffrail at all. We were then about three miles from the shore, with the indentation of Takhe Bay straight ahead of us, and near enough the anchorage for a man on our signal yard to make out--before the fog enveloped us, of course--that there were two ships at anchor in the roadstead, one, a five-funnelled craft which I knew could only be the _Askold_, while the other, showing four funnels, I gathered from his description must be the armoured cruiser _Bayan_. The searchlight had of course been in action ever since we had made the land, and as its beam swept slowly over the ships it had revealed enough of their details to enable us to easily identify them. It was most exasperating that the fog should have swept down upon us just when it did. Had it come an hour, or even half an hour, later, I would have welcomed it, for we should then have had time to get up within striking distance of the ships and, under cover of the fog, could have approached them closely enough to have made sure of both, while now! Well, it was useless to cry over what could not be helped; the only thing to do was to make the best of things as they were, and to hope that the fog might yet prove a friend in disguise, after all. Fortunately, as the fog came sweeping up to us, I had the presence of mind to hail the man on the yard--who was at that moment describing the ships he saw riding at anchor in the roads--asking him to tell me exactly how they bore from us. His reply was: "They are square abeam, honourable Captain." I immediately put my head in through the window of the wheelhouse and demanded of the helmsman how we were at that moment heading. He answered that we were then steering north forty degrees west, by compass. "Then," said I, "alter the course at once to west forty degrees south. That," I added, addressing young Hiraoka, who was standing beside me, "ought to take us to them, or near enough to enable us to sight them. Kindly go aft, Mr Hiraoka, and hail the _Akatsuki_, telling her of our shift of helm." The youngster ran aft to do my bidding, the fog at that moment being so thick that it was impossible to see one's hand before one's face, even the beam of the distant searchlight being so effectually obscured that it might have been extinguished for all that we knew to the contrary. I had rung down for our engines to stop, so that we might not run away from the _Akatsuki_, after shifting our helm, without informing her of the alteration in our course, and everything was now so still that I had no difficulty in distinguishing young Hiraoka's hail, and the reply from the other destroyer, breaking through the soft swish and lap of water under our bows. It was the _Akatsuki's_ lieutenant who was answering our hail, and he had just acknowledged the intimation of our altered course, and was ordering his own helmsman to make a like change, when, without the slightest warning, I experienced a terrific shock which felt exactly as though the ship had been smitten a savage blow from below by a giant hammer. So violent was it that I was flung high in the air and over the rail of the bridge on to the steel turtle-back deck beneath, upon which I landed head-first with such violence that I immediately lost consciousness. But before that happened I was sensible of two things; one of them being a blinding flash of flame, coincident with the shock, in which our bows, for a length of some ten or twelve feet, seemed to crumple up and fly to pieces, while the other was that, as I was tossed high in the air, I sustained a violent blow on the chest from some heavy object which seemed to sear my flesh like white-hot iron. Then down I came upon my head, and knew no more. My first sensation, upon coming to myself, was that of a violent aching all over my body, as though every bone in it had been broken. But the aching of my head was even worse than that of my body, while as for my chest, it smarted and throbbed as though the blade of a burning knife rested upon it. I next became aware that I was in bed; and finally, opening my eyes, I saw that I was the occupant of one of many beds in a large, airy room which somehow seemed familiar to me, and which I presently identified as the ward which I had once before occupied in the hospital at our base among the Elliot Islands. It was broad daylight, and the sun was shining brilliantly into the room through the widely opened windows, which admitted a gentle, refreshing breeze, pleasantly charged with ozone. Two dainty little women nurses were doing something at a table at the far end of the room, which happened to come within the range of my vision, and presently I heard the gentle splash of water in that direction, which immediately brought home to me the consciousness that my mouth and throat were parched. I opened my mouth to call to the nurses that I was thirsty, but it was only the very faintest of whispers that escaped my smarting lips. It was enough, however, to immediately produce a gentle rustle on the other side of my bed, and the next moment a pretty face was bending over me and a pair of soft, dark, almond-shaped eyes were gazing sympathetically into mine. "Ah!" exclaimed the owner of those eyes, "at last the illustrious Captain is himself again. Are you suffering very acutely, noble sir?" "Suffering?" I whispered. "_Rather_! I ache as if I had been beaten to a jelly, and I am as thirsty as a--as a limekiln. Can you by any chance get me something to drink? A bucketful will do to start with." "A bucketful!" she murmured, looking anxiously down at me as she laid her long, slender, pointed fingers upon the pulse of my left hand where it rested outside the coverlet. "But no," she continued, evidently speaking to herself, "his pulse is almost normal, and there is no trace of fever. A bucketful! Oh, these English!" She shook her head, as though giving up some problem that she found too difficult for solution, and shuffled off, with the curious gait peculiar to Japanese women, without saying another word to me. She approached the other two nurses, at the far end of the ward, and said something which caused them both to turn and stare in my direction. Then the senior of the party, accompanied by the girl whom I had so tremendously astonished, came up to my bedside, looked at me, felt my pulse, and shuffled away again, presently returning with one of those cups with a spout, from which one can drink while in a recumbent position. She placed the point of the spout between my lips, and the next moment I was aware that I was imbibing some delicious broth. But the cup! It was only about the size of an ordinary breakfast cup, and its contents were gone before I could well taste them. I asked for more, and got a second cupful; and then, as I was asking for still more, the Medical Staff of the hospital entered the ward, and the whole crowd turned with one accord and grouped itself around my bed. The Chief, a keen, clever-looking little fellow, whose age it was impossible to guess at since he was clean shaven, turned to the nurse who was feeding me, and sharply demanded what it was that she was administering. She explained, adding in all seriousness the information that I had demanded a bucketful, whereupon he turned and regarded me with upraised eyebrows, and laid his fingers upon my wrist. "So you are suffering from extreme thirst, Captain, eh?" he demanded. I nodded emphatically. "Ah!" he said, "yes; that was only to be expected. Well--" He turned to the head nurse and gave her certain instructions in so low a tone of voice that I could not catch what he said. Then, drawing a notebook from his pocket, he very carefully and with much consideration wrote what I imagined to be a prescription, tore out the leaf, and handed it to the nurse, with instructions to have it made up. Then, turning again to me, he inquired how I felt. I described my symptoms as well as I could, wondering all the while how it was that I was only able to speak in the merest whisper. The members of the staff, including the Head himself, could not have listened with more rapt attention, had I been communicating to them some item of intelligence of the most tremendous import; and when I had finished, the Head drew away from my bed to the far end of the room, where for some minutes he appeared to be delivering a lecture to the members of his staff, who had followed him. Then, the lecture being finished, they all came back to the side of my bed, and one of the nurses having carefully folded back the covering as low as my waist, the Head proceeded to deftly loosen the fastenings of an enormous bandage which I now discovered enveloped my chest. This done, I was very tenderly raised to a sitting posture--an operation which gave me excruciating pain, by the way--and the endless turns of the bandage were deftly unwound, one of the nurses seating herself upon the bed and supporting me meanwhile. When at length the bandage was removed, several broad strips of dressing were disclosed, which, upon removal, revealed a ghastly great jagged wound stretching right across my chest, the edges of which had been very neatly drawn together by a number of stitches. Then, for the first time, I remembered the violent blow on the chest which I had received when the bows of the _Kasanumi_ were destroyed. The wound was intently examined by the entire staff, pronounced to be healing most satisfactorily, and then, after being thoroughly sponged with warm water, was re-dressed, and a fresh bandage applied. Meanwhile, I had made the discovery that my head also was enveloped in bandages, and when I asked why, was informed that I had received a scalp wound, which, however, was of no serious consequence. When this also had been re-dressed, the entire operation occupying the best part of half an hour, I felt considerably easier, although much exhausted. While the wound in my chest was being dressed, I had seized the opportunity to look round the ward, and saw that several of the beds were occupied, one of the patients, who appeared to be suffering from a broken arm, being a man whom I appeared to know. As I sat staring at him he turned his head and our eyes met, whereupon, to my amazement, up went his uninjured hand to the salute. "Who is that man?" I demanded. "I seem to recognise his face." "You do?" remarked the Chief. "Ah! no wonder. He is one of the survivors of the disaster by which you so nearly lost your honourable life. He was one of the crew of the _Kasanumi_." "One of the crew of the _Kasanumi_!" I repeated. "Of course; I remember now. How come he and I to be here?" "You were both, with the rest of the crew of your ship, rescued by the _Akatsuki_, which ship was happily at hand when the disaster occurred," replied the Chief. "Ah, yes, the disaster!" I remarked. "Yes, I am beginning to remember all about it now. What was the nature of the disaster, doctor? Was that ever ascertained?" "According to your friend, Captain Ito, who brought you here, there is no doubt that your ship struck a mine," was the reply. "Of course she went down, though not so quickly but that the entire crew were saved, together with most of their personal effects. There was time, indeed, to save most, if not all, of your belongings, Captain, and they are now here, awaiting your convalescence." "Thank you," I said. "And, pray, when did the disaster occur?" "Just a week ago, last night," was the reply. "A week ago!" I exclaimed in consternation. "Then, have I lain here all that time, unconscious?" "You certainly have," replied the Chief. "Now, however, that you are happily conscious once more, we must do our utmost to keep you so, and to assist your recovery. Therefore, no more conversation, if you please, until I give you permission. What you now have to do is to remain perfectly quiet and free from all excitement, pleasurable or otherwise. Rest, sleep, take such food and such medicines as I shall order for you, and recover strength as rapidly as possible. Then, when you are sufficiently well to receive visitors, I will permit a few of the many who are now eager to see you, to do so. No, not another word!" And therewith the little fellow and his staff turned away and proceeded to overhaul the rest of the patients. The nurse whom I had at first seen upon recovering consciousness appeared to have been specially told off to look after me, for upon the departure of the staff she came and knelt by my bedside, as is their fashion, instead of sitting. She was just within the range of my vision, as I lay, and I suppose I must have stared at her pretty intently for some time, for presently I saw her colour rising, which at once brought me to my bearings. Thinking to put her at her ease, I said to her: "Nurse, what is your name?" She coloured still more, and after regarding me steadfastly for a moment, answered: "My contemptible and insignificant name, illustrious Captain, is Peach-blossom." "Peach-blossom!" I repeated. "And a very appropriate name, too, by Jove! See here, Peach-blossom. The Chief Surgeon seems to have forgotten that I said I was thirsty. Do you think you could find me something to drink? Two or three tumblers of cold water, now, eh? I have an idea that they would taste particularly good." "I will speak to the Chief, noble Captain, and if he consents I will honourably let you have it," she replied. The Chief evidently consented, and a few minutes later I was quenching my thirst with the most delicious draught I had ever tasted. It was only pure, cold water, but as I slowly imbibed it I told myself that at last I really understood the full meaning of the term, "nectar." Well, there is no need for me to dwell at length upon my sojourn in the hospital. I was given to understand that I was making a splendid recovery, yet although I was brought back to the Elliot Islands and admitted to the hospital on the morning of 20th June, it was not until nearly three weeks had passed that I was permitted to receive visitors, the first of whom was that fine fellow Ito, to whom I owed my life. I shall not readily forget the little chap's delight when, upon entering the ward, he discovered me sitting up in bed, reading, propped up by cushions and a bed-rest. He sprang forward, his eyes fairly snapping with pleasure and excitement, and seizing my welcoming hand, shook it with such energy that good little Peach-Blossom felt constrained to spring hastily to her feet and rescue me from his too strenuous demonstrations of joy. At her vigorous remonstrances, however, he dropped my hand as though it had burnt him and, sinking into a chair by my bedside, proceeded to apologise with almost abject contrition, and would not be comforted until I had assured him, not quite truthfully, I am afraid, that he had not hurt me. Then, in answer to my questions, he proceeded to tell me what he knew of the matter. It appeared that at the moment when the explosion occurred, the _Akatsuki_ was so close to the _Kasanumi_ that the two craft were all but touching each other, although, from the _Kasanumi's_ bridge, where I was then standing, I could not see the other destroyer. It also appeared that at the moment when I ordered the course of the _Kasanumi_ to be altered, the _Akatsuki_ was close astern of us, and broad on our port quarter, the consequence being that the shifting of our helm carried us so close athwart her bows that she all but touched us when crossing our stern. It was at this moment that the explosion occurred; and Ito, instantly divining what had happened, at once manoeuvred his craft in such a fashion as to lay her alongside the fast-sinking _Kasanumi_, so that the crew of the latter were able to transfer themselves directly from one ship to the other without using boats. Meanwhile, the helmsman and signalmen on the _Kasanumi's_ bridge had seen me tossed over the rail by the force of the explosion, and, although themselves severely shaken, had instantly flung themselves down upon the turtle-back, where they found me lying bleeding and insensible. To pick me up and carry me aft was the next thing to be done, for they realised at once that their own ship was sinking, and they did it, transferring my senseless body to the _Akatsuki_ the moment that she got alongside. I was at once taken below and temporarily patched-up, while the crew of the _Kasanumi_ were being transferred, together with such of their belongings as they were able to save, my cabin steward with the utmost devotion concentrating all his efforts upon saving the most valuable of my belongings, regardless of the loss of his own. It was at first thought that possibly the _Kasanumi_ might be saved, and Ito did his utmost in that direction, working for more than half an hour upon the stricken craft. But the damage was too serious, and despite collision mats and pumps the craft continued to settle until at length, recognising that all efforts were useless, he ordered all hands aboard his own ship, and cast off, the _Kasanumi_ foundering almost before the _Akatsuki_ could back off clear of her. Ito made no attempt to attack the ships in Port Arthur roads single-handed, but at once shaped a course for the Elliot Islands, running clear of the fog half an hour later. Arrived at our base, he lost no time in having me conveyed ashore to the hospital, where, as already recorded, I lay for a week in a state of alternating delirium and coma before I recovered my senses. The doctors assured me that I was making a splendid recovery; yet to myself my progress appeared to be horribly slow, and it was certainly not accelerated by the knowledge that while I was lying there helpless, big events were happening which had all the appearance of leading up to still bigger events in the near future. For instance, there was the second sortie of the Russian squadron from Vladivostock, in the middle of June, lasting over a fortnight, during which it inflicted great loss and damage upon the Japanese. It was a most risky thing to do, and must certainly have resulted in disaster had not poor, unhappy Admiral Kamimura been morally chained down, and prevented from taking effective measures against the raiders, by a stringent order that he was to hold the Strait of Korea at all costs. Yet, such is human inconsistency, notwithstanding the above stringent order, which bound the unfortunate admiral hand and foot, and effectually precluded his pursuit of the raiding ships, he was so severely blamed by "the man in the street" for the damage done that a mob actually attacked and wrecked his house! This, of course, was most unjust and cruel treatment of a thoroughly capable and zealous man who, hampered though he was, did all he could to bring the raiders to book, and indeed, but for a sudden change of weather at a critical moment, would probably have brought them to action and given them a severe punishing. Then, there was the abortive sortie of the Port Arthur fleet, three days after the destruction of the _Kasanumi_. True, the ships were only at sea for about twenty-four hours, and did nothing, narrowly escaping capture only by Togo's over-eagerness to engage them, thus discovering himself to the Russians in time to allow the latter to make good their retreat back to Port Arthur; but, all the same, I felt that I was losing much in not being present. To me it seemed that our plucky little Admiral had missed a splendid chance over this last event; for we did the enemy no perceptible damage, and only succeeded in driving him back to his lair. As a matter of fact the only injury sustained by the Russians was that which happened to the battleship _Sevastopol_, which struck one of our mines as she was returning to Port Arthur anchorage, and was only got into the harbour with the utmost difficulty. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. UNEXPECTED PROMOTION. Among other naval customs which the Japanese had copied from the British, was that of trying by court martial all officers who were so unfortunate as to lose their ships; and on the day when I first received permission from the doctors to take a short turn in the open air, I also received an intimation that my trial for the loss of the _Kasanumi_ would be held, a week from that date, on board the flagship _Mikasa_, which would then be in harbour. Of course I was still very much of an invalid, for although the ghastly wound in my chest had so far healed that it no longer needed dressing, I was warned that even very trifling exertion might cause it to burst open again, while I had by no means recovered my former strength. Nevertheless, on the day appointed, I made shift to walk down to the beach, supported by the arm of an orderly, and, with the same assistance, to climb the flagship's side ladder when I arrived alongside her in the steam launch which had been sent ashore to fetch me. There is no need for me to describe at length the proceedings of a naval court martial; it has been admirably done by Captain Marryat; and as it was in his day, so it is to-day, in all essentials. Of course the trial was the merest formality, for there could not be the slightest shadow of doubt that the craft had been lost through collision with a mine, while under way in a dense fog, and that it was one of those incidents of war for which nobody but the enemy can be held responsible; and accordingly I was honourably acquitted, and my sword was returned to me amid the congratulations of the Admiral and the officers who had constituted the court. Five days later I received a visit from Togo himself, who seemed to have conceived rather a liking for me. After making most friendly inquiries as to my health and the progress which I was making toward convalescence, he repeated his congratulations upon my acquittal by the court martial, and then asked me how much longer I thought it would be before I should again be fit for active service. I was happily able to assure him that, unless anything quite unforeseen happened, I hoped to be quite ready for duty in a fortnight, or even less if my services were urgently required, and I remember that I gave the answer with considerable eagerness, for there was a certain subtle something in the tone of the Admiral's question which somehow suggested that events of importance were in the air. "Good!" ejaculated Togo. "That is excellent news, my friend, for if what I hear be true, it would appear that the time is drawing near when I shall be in urgent need of all the assistance which my officers can give me. I will say no more at present--except that I hope you will take the utmost care of yourself, and get quite well again as quickly as possible--for at present my information is too vague to permit me to make a definite statement. Meanwhile,"--putting his hand into his breast pocket and producing a long, official-looking document--"it affords me the utmost pleasure to hand you this, which is your appointment to the command of the _Yakumo_. It has been my pleasant duty to mention your name in my dispatches, in connection with many services meritoriously rendered, the latest having reference to the very valuable assistance rendered by you prior to and during the battle of Nanshan; and this appointment is the outward token of the authorities' appreciation of those services. I am looking forward with much interest to the moment when you will take up this new command, for, as you know, the _Yakumo_ is a very fine ship, and under a smart and enterprising captain I shall expect great things of her." "And by Jove! sir, you shall not be disappointed if I can help it," I exclaimed, springing to my feet in a paroxysm of delight and grasping the hand which the Admiral kindly extended to me. "I don't know how to find words in which to express my profound gratitude to you, sir, for all your kindness to me, from the moment when I presented myself before you, an utter stranger," I continued huskily; but Togo interrupted me, reaching up and patting my shoulder in a very kind, fatherly way. "There, there," he murmured, soothingly, "say no more about it, my dear boy; say no more about it. I want no wordy expressions of gratitude; you should know that by this time. And if you really feel grateful to me for anything I have done for you, you shall show your gratitude in deeds, rather than words, when the strenuous times arrive which I already see looming in the distance." And therewith, affording me no opportunity to reply, the fine little fellow, well named "the Nelson of Japan," hastily shook me by the hand and effected his escape, while I sank into a chair, almost overwhelmed at the extent of my good fortune. Captain of the _Yakumo_! I could scarcely credit it. As the Admiral had said, the _Yakumo_ was a very fine ship; she was indeed one of the finest armoured cruisers which Japan at that time possessed. Her waterline was protected by a belt of Krupp steel seven inches thick amidships, tapering off to five inches thickness at bow and stern; she mounted four 8-inch quick-fire guns in her two turrets, and fourteen 6-inch guns on her broadsides; she could steam twenty-one knots, when clean; and she carried a crew of five hundred officers and men! A rather different craft from the little _Kasanumi_, with her single 12-pounder and five 6-pounders, eh? I felt that, in command of such a ship as that, I could dare and do almost anything. My delight must have proved an important factor in aiding my recovery, for from the moment when I received my appointment, my strength came back to me so rapidly that, instead of the fortnight which I had allowed myself in my conversation with the Admiral, I took only nine days to qualify for my discharge from the hospital, and to report for duty. It was a proud moment for me when I stood on the spacious quarter-deck of my new command and, in the presence of all hands, mustered for the occasion, read my commission appointing me to the command of the ship. The vacancy had occurred in consequence of the death of her previous captain, and when I boarded the craft, I did so fully prepared for a certain coldness of reception on the part of the officers, for naturally, in the ordinary course of events, the command ought to have gone to the senior officer, one Commander Arisaka. But not so; on the contrary, as I finished reading my commission, folded it up, and put it in my pocket, the Commander approached, shook hands in the most friendly way, expressed the extreme gratification felt by himself and the rest of the officers of the ship at finding themselves under the leadership of one who--as they were kind enough to put it--"had so brilliantly distinguished himself"; and then proceeded to present to me the rest of the officers in rotation, in strict accordance with their rank, all of whom found something pleasant and complimentary to say. By way of response, I made a little speech to all hands, crew as well as officers, in which I expressed my gratification at finding myself in command of so fine a ship, manned by so fine a crew, and voiced the hope that, not only should we be able to all work comfortably and harmoniously together, but also that the Admiral would speedily afford us an opportunity to add fresh laurels to the _Yakumo's_ fame; a speech which elicited a quite enthusiastic storm of "Banzais." Agreeable relations with my officers and crew being thus satisfactorily established, I took up my quarters onboard, and forthwith proceeded to "learn" the ship--that is to say, I made myself intimately acquainted with the localities and purposes of the numerous engines and pieces of machinery with which she was fitted, the number and positions of her magazines, and their contents, the number and situations of her torpedo tubes, the uses of the many fitments to be found in her conning tower, and in fact everything connected with her working, so that in the hour of action I might have every detail firmly fixed in my memory, ready for use at a moment's notice. And wherever I found anything capable of improvement, I unhesitatingly had that improvement carried out, although I feel bound to say that I found very little anywhere needing modification. In this way, and by continually exercising the crew at such evolutions as could be carried out with the ship at anchor, I very soon became perfectly familiar with my new command and, as my strength steadily returned, began to long for the opportunity to test myself as well as my ship and crew. For during the whole of this time the _Yakumo_, with several other cruisers, and our four battleships, had been lying at anchor at our rendezvous at the Elliot Islands, not idle by any means, but, like the _Yakumo_, "tuning up" for a certain eventuality, the approach of which we all seemed to sense in some mysterious way. And yet, after all, I do not know that there was very much mystery about it, for our Secret Service agents--of whom there were several in Port Arthur--informed us that, from the moment when, on that memorable Sunday, 7th August, one of the first twenty shells fired at the stronghold by the investing Japanese, fell aboard the battleship _Retvisan_, lying at anchor in the harbour, and seriously damaged her, there had been a general outcry that the Russian fleet ought to go to sea and fight, rather than remain in harbour and be ignominiously destroyed without striking a blow in self-defence. It was known that Admiral Vitgeft, and Prince Ukhtomsky, his second in command, were utterly opposed to such a course, their freely expressed opinion being that the Russian ships, already more or less seriously damaged by the attacks to which they had been subjected from time to time during the progress of the war, were totally unfit to meet and engage the Japanese fleet, which, they had every reason to believe, was in first-class fighting trim. There were certain officers, however, whose mortification at their enforced inactivity blinded them to the soundness of this judgment. "If the ships must be destroyed, let them be destroyed at sea in the act of inflicting as much injury as possible upon the enemy," was their contention; and it was certainly a reasonable one. It was broadly hinted that the leader of this faction found means to convey his contention to the ear of Admiral Alexieff; for, strange to say, the following day brought a wireless message from the Commander-in-Chief to Vitgeft, ordering the latter to take his whole fleet to sea and proceed to Vladivostock, fighting his way thither, if necessary. Every effort was of course made by Vitgeft to keep this order a profound secret; but it was necessary to communicate it to the captains of the several ships and other officers whose duties required that they should possess such knowledge, and the delight of some of them at learning that their long-cherished desire was about to be granted was not conducive to secrecy. Moreover, the sudden, feverish hurry and bustle of preparation was a sufficient advertisement of what was impending; and that very night the news was signalled to the blockading squadron in the offing, from which it was as promptly transmitted by wireless to Togo, among the Elliots. The news was confirmed on the following morning by our patrol vessels off the port, from which came the information that a tremendous state of activity was discernible among the Russian ships, and that all indications pointed toward an almost immediate sortie. The news arrived by wireless, about an hour after sunrise; and immediately upon receiving it the signal was made for all captains to at once proceed on board the flagship. Some such signal had confidently been expected, after the news of the preceding day; we were in fact all waiting for it, and its display was equivalent to the starting signal for a race, for no sooner did the flags break abroad than they were read, and the next instant the shrill piping of many boatswain's whistles was heard in the calm morning air, the crews of the captain's gigs were seen rushing along the booms and dropping recklessly down into the boats, and in less than a minute the mirror-like waters of the harbour were being churned into foam as the flotilla of gigs darted away from the ships' gangway ladders, each striving to be the first to arrive alongside the _Mikasa_. I was not the first to reach the goal, for the battleships were all lying together, with the cruisers some distance outside them, but my boat was the fourth alongside, beating the _Asama's_ gig by half a length, to the intense disgust of Captain Yamada, who occupied her stern-sheets. "Never mind, Yamada, old chap," I exclaimed, as we shook hands and ascended the _Mikasa's_ side ladder together; "perhaps you will get the pull of me later on. But I'll bet you a case of champagne that the _Yakumo_ scores a hit before the _Asama_, to-day." The bet was eagerly accepted, and, chatting gaily, we passed along the flagship's deck and entered the Admiral's state cabin, where we found Togo and the captains of the four battleships already assembled and conversing eagerly. The Admiral shook hands with both of us, complimented me upon my rapid recovery, and then turned to welcome the other captains who were fast arriving, while we joined the little but quickly swelling group of officers who had already arrived; for of course Togo would say nothing until everybody was present. We were not kept waiting very long, however, perhaps a matter of ten minutes after my arrival, and then Captain Ijichi, of the _Mikasa_, who as each captain arrived, had been ticking his name off a list, announced that all were present, and rapped sharply on the table with his sword-hilt for silence. The next moment, to use a common expression, one might have heard a pin drop. Then Admiral Togo stepped forward, unrolled a chart and spread it open upon the table, and stood for a moment looking round the crowded cabin with a curiously intent and eager gaze. "Gentlemen," he said, "the wireless message which has this morning arrived from the blockading squadron off Port Arthur, entirely confirms the news of yesterday, to the effect that the Russian fleet is about to put to sea, probably with the intention of making for Vladivostock. I imagine Vladivostock to be its destination for the simple reason that there is no other port open to it; moreover, as we are fully aware, there is a dry dock at Vladivostock large enough to receive a battleship; and I conjecture the intention of the enemy to be to take his damaged ships there for the purpose of repairing them, so that they may be in condition to reinforce and assist the Baltic fleet upon its arrival in these waters. "Gentlemen, if that be the enemy's intention, it must never be carried out; we must prevent it at all costs--short of the loss of our own battleships, which we _must_ preserve in order that we may be able to meet the Baltic fleet upon something like equal terms, when it arrives. Now, the question of how best to meet the Port Arthur fleet without unduly risking our own battleships is one that has greatly exercised my mind ever since the moment when it first became apparent that the Russians were meditating a sortie, and I have formed a plan which I will now lay before you, and upon which I shall be very grateful to receive your frankly expressed criticism and opinion. "Taking it for granted that the purpose of the Russian Admiral is to make for Vladivostock, I propose to proceed to Encounter Rock, which, as you are all aware, lies directly in the track of ships bound from Port Arthur southward past the Shan-tung promontory,"--the Admiral pointed out upon the chart the positions of the three places mentioned as he spoke--"and there await the arrival of the Russians, who will by that time be so far from Port Arthur that I trust the measures which I propose to take to prevent them from returning may be effective. "I need not remind you that my instructions are, and have been throughout the war, to risk our battleships as little as possible, since upon them depends the safety of Japan--a fact which I believe we all fully realise; I therefore intend to fight the forthcoming battle at long-range, trusting to our superior gunnery to enable us to inflict the maximum amount of injury upon the enemy with the minimum amount of injury to ourselves. "I purpose to proceed in the following manner. The _Yakumo_ will lead the fleet to sea, followed by the _Kasagi, Takasago, Chitose_, _Takachiho_, _Naniwa_, and _Chiyoda_, in the order named. These will be followed, at a distance of three miles, by our six armoured cruisers, in the wake of which will follow the four battleships, with the remaining cruisers and the destroyers bringing up the rear. Further orders I cannot give at present, since my plans are necessarily subject to modification according to the reports which will no doubt come to me from time to time from the blockading squadron, a portion of which will follow the Russian fleet, reporting upon its formation, the course it steers, its speed, and so on. The only thing further which I have now to say is, that the duty of the destroyer flotilla will be to keep the Russian destroyers so fully occupied that the latter will have no opportunity to approach our big ships, while every opportunity must be seized to attack the Russians, especially their battleships. That is all I have to say, gentlemen, except that the fleet which we shall have the honour to meet to-day _must be destroyed_, and I look to each of you, individually, to give me your best assistance in the accomplishment of this purpose. Now, has any officer any suggestion to offer? I shall be most grateful for any helpful hint." Nobody spoke, but all eyes wandered round the cabin, searching for a possible speaker. The Admiral's eye met mine, and I thought there seemed to be a question in it. As nobody else seemed inclined to speak, I decided to answer that questioning glance. "There is just one remark which I should like to make, sir, if I may be permitted," I said. "I had not the good fortune to be present when the Japanese last met the Port Arthur fleet, less than two months ago; but from all that I have heard with regard to that meeting, I gather that there would have been no Port Arthur fleet to-day, had not you, sir, been too eager to meet them, revealing your presence to them at such an early moment that retirement to Port Arthur was still possible for them. If that be the case, the obvious lesson to be learnt seems to be that we should on no account show ourselves until the Russians have run too far off-shore to get back again before we can intercept them; and I would also suggest the desirability of taking steps to effectually cut off their retreat." Togo nodded and smiled. "Gentlemen," he said, "you have all heard Captain Swinburne's remarks. Have any of you anything to add to them, or any comment to make upon them?" For a moment there was silence. Then Captain Matsumoto, commanding the _Fuji_, stepped forward. "I should like to say, sir," he said, "that I entirely concur in what Captain Swinburne has said. Unlike that gentleman, I had the honour to be present on the occasion to which he refers, and I believe all present--including yourself, sir--will be inclined to agree that the honourable captain has put his finger upon the two causes which then combined to render the escape of the Russian fleet possible." A low murmur of assent followed; and when it died away, Togo spoke. "I thank you all, gentlemen," he said, "for the expression of opinion to which I have just listened. I agree that a mistake was made upon that occasion, and it was I who made it. But that mistake will not be repeated, you may rest assured. I recognised my mistake when it was too late to amend it, and I have now made my plans accordingly. Has any one else any suggestion to offer?" There was no response. "Very well, then, gentlemen," resumed Togo. "Our conference is at an end. Return to your ships, and get your anchors at once. We will proceed to sea forthwith; and may Hachiman Sama," (the Japanese god of War) "be with us to-day and crown our arms with victory!" A moment's silence followed, and then the cabin rang with the exultant shout of "Banzai! Banzai Nippon!" instantly taken up by the crew out on deck, who heard it, and as instantly repeated by the crews of the other ships, as the sound of the cheering reached them. Then, one after another, we filed past the Admiral, who shook hands with each of us as we passed out of the cabin; and ten minutes later the harbour was resounding with the clank of chain cables being hove in through a fleet's hawse-pipes and stowed away below. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. THE BATTLE OF THE YELLOW SEA. It was still quite early--half-past six o'clock in the morning, to be exact--when a gun from the _Mikasa_ and a string of flags, drooping from the end of her signal yard in the breathless calm of a hot August morning, gave the signal for the Japanese fleet to go forth to battle. In accordance with the Admiral's instructions, the _Yakumo_ was to lead the way to sea, and it was a proud moment for me when, standing upon the cruiser's navigating bridge, I personally rang down the order to the engine-room, "Ahead, half-speed, both engines!" And I considered--and still consider--that I had every reason to be proud; for here was I, a lad not yet quite nineteen years of age, captain of one of the finest and most formidable cruisers in the Japanese navy. And I had attained to that position--I may say it now, I think, without laying myself open to the charge of being unduly vain--solely by my own exertions and without a particle of favour shown me, excepting that, when my own country contemptuously dispensed with my services, the aliens whom I was now serving received me with the utmost courtesy and kindness. Ah, well! thank God, that bitter period in my life is past now, and I can bear to look back upon it with equanimity, but the memory of it often swept down upon me like a black cloud in the days of which I am now writing. But there was no thought of my unmerited disgrace and ruined career in my own country to interfere with my happiness or humble my pride upon that glorious morning; I enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that my innocence had been made clear, that the stain of guilt had been removed from my name, and I was as happy just then as I suppose it is ever possible for mortal to be. And indeed, quite apart from matters of a purely personal nature, it would have been very difficult for any normal-minded individual to have been otherwise than buoyant upon that particular morning, for everything conspired to make one so. The weather was glorious; the sky, a clear, rich sapphire blue, was, for a wonder, without a cloud, the air was so still that until we got under way and made a wind for ourselves the signal flags drooped in motionless folds, and their interpretation was largely a matter of guesswork. Then there was all the pomp and circumstance of modern war, the ships already cleared for action, and each of them decorated with at least two enormous battle-flags--wrought by the dainty fingers of Japan's fairest daughters--flaunting defiantly from her mast-heads. It must have been a magnificent sight to behold that proud fleet steaming out to sea, ship after ship falling into line with machine-like precision and keeping distance perfectly, first the squadron of cruisers, led by the _Yakumo_; then the other five armoured cruisers, with the _Asama_ in the van; then the four battleships-- accompanied by the _Nisshin_ and _Kasuga_, which were powerful enough to take their place in the line of battle--and, finally, the swarm of heterogeneous craft composed of the older and less important cruisers and other vessels, and those wasps of the sea, the destroyers. The _Yakumo_ had scarcely begun to gather way when the flagship signalled "Course South-West by South; speed twelve knots." As our signalman ran up the answering pennant, I entered the chart-room and, approaching the table, upon which a chart of the Yellow Sea lay spread out, requested Mr Shiraishi, the navigating lieutenant, to lay down a South-West by South course upon the chart, that we might see where it would take us. He did so, and I saw with satisfaction that it would take us some twenty-five miles to the eastward of Encounter Rock, that unfortunate spot near which the Japanese fleet had too prematurely revealed its presence upon the occasion of its previous encounter with the Russians. Twenty-five miles! That was excellent. If we held on upon that course we should cross the bows of the Russians at such a distance as would enable us to pass unseen, and then come up from the southward in the enemy's rear, so cutting him off from Port Arthur and rendering it impossible for him to avoid a fight. Shortly after clearing the harbour, the _Asama_ and her attendant cruisers parted company with us, striking off to the westward, with the object of working round in the rear of the Russians, and again I mentally complimented Togo upon his astuteness. Nine o'clock came, and a few minutes later there arrived a wireless message from the Admiral for our squadron to change course thirty-four degrees to the westward. I wondered what this might portend, for we had been receiving almost continuous wireless messages from the squadron off Port Arthur, the latest of which told us that the Russians, although undoubtedly intending a sortie, had not yet started. I again visited the chart-room, and with Shiraishi's assistance discovered that our new course would bring us within about seven miles south-east of Encounter Rock about noon. "Four bells" had just gone tinkling along the line of the Japanese ships, informing those whom it might concern that the hour was ten o'clock in the morning, when a fresh wireless message came from our blockading squadron, informing us that at last the Russian fleet was actually steaming out of Port Arthur harbour, with battle-flags flying, bands playing, and the ship's companies singing the Russian National Anthem, with the battleship _Tsarevich_, Vitgeft's flagship, leading. As the message was decoded and the news spread throughout the Japanese fleet, an almost audible sigh of relief escaped the breasts of officers and men; the Russians were not only coming out, but actually meant to fight; and the fateful hour which had been so long and so eagerly awaited was now at last at hand. A great cheer arose, passing along the line from ship to ship, and officers who had already assured themselves that all preparations for meeting the enemy were complete once more went the rounds, to make assurance doubly sure. The Japanese blockading fleet gradually closed in behind the Russian ships, compelling Vitgeft to send back his gunboats, mining craft, and reserve destroyers, as our boats were threatening to cut them off; and about eleven o'clock we got a message informing us that the fleet which we should have to meet consisted of six battleships, four cruisers, and seven destroyers, an eighth destroyer, believed to be the _Reshitelny_, having contrived, by her superior speed, to give our boats the slip, and steam away in the direction of Chifu. Meanwhile, the glass was falling, great masses of cloud came driving up from the eastward, and a little breeze from the same quarter sprang up, rapidly freshening and knocking up a sea which soon set even our battleships rolling and pitching ponderously. "Well, so much the better for us," we told each other. Our gunners were by this time quite accustomed to shoot from a rolling and pitching platform, while the Russians had had no such profitable experience; and the heavier the sea, the greater would probably be the superiority of our shooting. It was nearing noon when at length, broad on our starboard bow, a great cloud of black smoke began to show on the south-eastern horizon; and shortly afterward a forest of masts, from the truck of each of which flaunted a great white flag bearing a blue Saint Andrew's cross, began to rise above the sea-line, followed by numerous funnels belching immense volumes of black smoke. The two fleets were nearing each other fast, it was therefore not long before the ponderous bulk of the _Tsarevich_ topped the horizon, with the _Retvisan, Pobieda, Peresviet_ (flying Rear-Admiral Prince Ukhtomsky's flag), _Sevastopol_, and _Poltava_ following. Then came our old friend of the five funnels, the _Askold_, followed by the _Pallada_ and _Diana_, with a hospital ship, flying a Red Cross flag, bringing up the rear but well astern. On the port beam, but well to the rear of the line of battleships, was the cruiser _Novik_--easily distinguished by her three funnels with a single mast stepped between the second and third funnel--and seven destroyers. Up fluttered a signal aboard the _Mikasa_, and scarcely had the flags broke out when away went our destroyers at top speed, like hounds released from the leash, to attack the enemy. And a stirring sight it was to witness their dash, for it was now blowing quite fresh and a nasty, choppy sea had arisen, through which the plucky little boats raced, like a school of dolphin chasing flying-fish, now throwing a third of their length clean out of the water, and anon plunging into an oncoming wave until the water foamed and hissed over turtle-back and bridge and poured in torrents down upon the main deck and overboard. But the Russian Admiral was not going to tamely submit to a torpedo attack in broad daylight; he allowed the boats to get well within range of his guns, and then opened a brisk fire upon them, driving them off for the moment. Nevertheless, although the boats never actually scored a hit that day, they were of the utmost assistance, hovering on the enemy's flanks and rear, dashing in upon him from time to time, and distracting his attention at many a critical moment. Encounter Rock now bore north-west from us, seven miles distant, and was broad upon the port beam of the Russians, at about the same distance; and had both fleets held on as they were then going the Russians must very soon have cut through our line--provided, of course, that we had permitted them to do so. But the attempt evidently did not appeal to Vitgeft, for the _Tsarevich_ suddenly starboarded her helm and led away from us in a north-westerly direction, while Togo, perhaps afraid that this was the preliminary to a retreat on the part of the Russian fleet, feigned a nervousness that he certainly did not feel, and shifted his helm, heading South-South-West, at the same time forming his battleships in line abreast. The result was that, for a time, the two fleets were actually steaming away from each other, the Russians being upon our starboard quarter. After steaming a short distance in this direction, our formation was altered back to line ahead, and the course was changed to South-West, apparently with the object of getting the ships well in hand. It was close upon one o'clock in the afternoon when our Admiral, having put us through one or two further manoeuvres and apparently satisfied himself that he had strung us up to the necessary pitch of alertness, finally formed line ahead and changed course to East-North-East, at the same time hoisting the signal, "Engage!" The signal was greeted with a terrific outburst of cheering from every ship, and faces that had begun to look gloomy as the distance between the two fleets increased, once more became wreathed in smiles. Speed was increased, and we began to rapidly overhaul the enemy, the spray flying high over our bows as we pushed our way irresistibly through the rising sea. And now the horizon all round from north, west, and south showed dark with smoke as the Japanese cruisers began to close in from those points upon the Russians. It was the _Tsarevich_ which at length opened the ball, by bringing the 12-inch guns in her fore-turret to bear upon the _Mikasa_. There was a brilliant double flash, a big outburst of white smoke that for a moment partially veiled the great ship ere it drove away to leeward, a huge double splash as the ponderous shells hit the water about a mile away, and then came a crashing _boom_ as the sound of the explosion reached us against the wind. The shots had fallen short. These two shots appeared to be regarded by the rest of the Russian battleships as a signal to open fire, for they immediately did so, the flashes bursting out here and there all along the enemy's battle-line, first from one ship and then from another, as though each ship were striving which could first get off her shots, while projectiles seemed to be falling everywhere excepting aboard the Japanese ships; true, two or three shells flew, muttering loudly, high over our heads, but the rest fell either wide or very far short. Our anticipations, it seemed, were proving correct, the roll and pitching of their ships was playing the mischief with the aim of the Russian gunners. Then the big guns of the flagship and the _Asahi_ spoke, just four shots each, coolly and deliberately fired, one shot at a time, to test the range. This was found to be too great for effective practice, and the fire thereupon ceased. But although not one of those eight ranging shots had actually touched a Russian ship, they all fell much closer to their mark than had the Russian projectiles, and close enough, at all events, to make Vitgeft nervous, for their immediate effect was to cause him to haul up to the northward, so that it looked as though he were seriously contemplating the advisability of doubling round Encounter Rock and retreating back to Port Arthur. It was a moment when everything seemed to be hanging in the balance, when a single false move would ruin everything, and the chance that we had been so long waiting for would be lost. Port Arthur was still close enough under the lee of the Russians to permit of their reaching the shelter of its batteries without very serious loss, should they elect to make the attempt. It was a moment demanding both boldness and astuteness of action, and, gambler-like, Togo resolved to risk everything upon a single throw. Instead of making the signal to close with the enemy and immediately bring him to battle, the Admiral signalled, "Change course sixteen points east," which meant that the whole fleet, now steaming in line ahead, parallel to the Russian's course, and heading in the same direction, must swerve round upon a port helm and go back over the ground which it had just traversed, that in fact it must turn tail and run away from the Russians! The manoeuvre was executed in splendid style, and two minutes later the Japanese fleet was heading south-west, while the Russian fleet, now some nine miles distant, bore about two points abaft our starboard beam. The object of the manoeuvre was of course to impress the Russian Admiral with the conviction that we were as little anxious to put our fortunes to the touch as he was; and apparently the ruse was successful, for almost immediately the Russians shifted helm, heading about south-east and standing across our wake, with all their funnels belching great volumes of smoke, showing that a tremendous effort was going to be made to give us the slip. For what seemed to us all an interminable half-hour, the astute little Japanese "Nelson" permitted them to lay the flattering unction to their souls that they were going to succeed, for during that half-hour the Japanese fleet plugged steadily away to the south-west, every moment increasing the distance between themselves and the enemy. Then, at last, judging from the respective positions of the two fleets that our superior speed must certainly frustrate any further attempt at escape on the part of the enemy, up went the longed-for signal for us to swerve round and give chase. This manoeuvre of ours was the signal for another shift of helm on the part of the Russians. They had been heading about south-east, but now, seeing us coming straight for them, they swerved away until they were heading almost due east, as though even now anxious to defer the evil moment as long as possible. But they must speedily have recognised the impossibility of escape, for now, with carefully-cleaned furnace fires and a full head of steam, our ships were racing along through the fast-rising sea at a speed which would enable us to rapidly overhaul the chase, notwithstanding that they were plunging until they were buried to the hawse-pipes, and their fore-decks were smothered with spray. The two fleets were now running upon converging lines, the enemy, about a point before our port beam, steering east, while we were steering east-north-east, and visibly gaining as the minutes slipped by. At last it looked as though the fight could no longer be delayed, and a thrill of excitement passed through me as I now began to fully realise that I was about to take part in a great naval battle, fought under modern conditions in ships protected by ponderous plates of steel armour and furnished with all the most modern engines of destruction. What would such a battle look like, and how would it end? Meanwhile the day was passing, and although the two fleets had been within sight of each other for more than two hours, nothing had thus far been done. Both fleets were now steaming in single line ahead, the battleships leading, and the cruisers following closely, the Russian fleet being slightly ahead and steaming surprisingly well, considering the condition of their ships, though we were rapidly overhauling them. Five bells (half-past two o'clock) in the afternoon watch pealed out, and at the same moment the _Asama_ and _Yakumo_ received orders to haul out from the fleet and heave-to, holding ourselves ready to deal with any enemy ships which might attempt to break back toward Port Arthur. So we were not to be allowed to take part in the fight, after all! It was positively heart-breaking, and for a moment I felt inclined to imitate Nelson at Copenhagen and turn a blind eye to the signal, but the sight of the _Asama_ promptly sheering out from the line brought me to my senses. I knew that poor Yamada would be just as bitterly disappointed as myself; yet there he was, obeying the order with the same promptitude that he would have displayed had he been ordered to attack the enemy single-handed. I nodded--rather savagely, I am afraid--at Arisaka, the Commander, who was regarding me with eyebrows raised questioningly. "All right," I growled. "Hard a-port, sir, and sheer out of the line." We swept right round in a wide semi-circle, finally stopping our engines when we arrived at a spot about midway between the rears of the two fleets. Our engines had just stopped, and I was on the point of opening a semaphore conversation with the _Asama_, hove-to about half a mile distant, with the purpose of making some sort of arrangement for coping with certain possible eventualities, when a vivid flash and a great cloud of smoke burst from the _Mikasa_, and was immediately followed by similar outbursts from the rest of our battleships, which were opening fire upon the Russian rear as the ships came within range. To give them their due, the Russians were by no means slow to reply, and it was presently evident from the number of shells falling round her, that they were concentrating their fire upon the _Mikasa_. The first hit was scored by one of our ships--the _Shikishima_, we afterwards learned-- which landed a 12-inch shell under the _Askold's_ forward bridge. We saw the flash and smoke of the exploding shell, but could not, of course, tell what damage was done. The next second another shell hit the same craft about her waterline, and within a minute huge volumes of smoke were seen pouring from her, seeming to indicate that she was on fire. But with ourselves at a standstill and both fleets steaming away from us at high speed, they soon passed beyond our range of vision, and all that we knew about the fight was that there was a terrific cannonading going on, while the eastern horizon bore a dense veil of smoke which came driving rapidly down upon us before the rising gale. The cannonading continued with tremendous energy for about three-quarters of an hour, and then began to slacken, until by seven bells--half-past three in the afternoon--it had ceased altogether. What had happened? Was the fight over? It might be so, although I could scarcely believe that the Russians had been utterly beaten in the short space of an hour; for although their ships were in anything but first-class condition, the men were brave, and were scarcely likely to yield so long as the merest ghost of a chance of success remained to them. We were not doomed to remain very long in suspense, however, for just as eight bells was striking a wireless message arrived from the Admiral, ordering the _Asama_ and ourselves to rejoin forthwith, and giving us our course, east-south-east. I believe our engines were the first to move, but the _Asama_ was now nearly a mile to the eastward of us, we standing higher out of the water than she, and therefore drifting to leeward faster, consequently she really had the best of the start. But I wasn't going to let her get into action before me, if I could help it, and I called down the voice-tube to Carmichael, our Engineer Commander, explaining the state of affairs, and begging him to do his best. Unfortunately for us, however, the _Asama's_ "chief" was Scotch, too; it therefore at once became a race between the two ships, all the keener because of the friendly rivalry between the two Scotchmen. It was generally conceded that _Asama_ had the advantage of _Yakumo_ by about half a knot; but when at length, shortly before four bells in the first dog watch, we rejoined the line, the two craft were running neck and neck. The battle recommenced about a quarter of an hour before we were able to resume our former position in the fighting line, the _Poltava_ opening fire with her 12-inch guns upon the _Mikasa_, against which ship, it appeared, the Russians had concentrated their efforts during the earlier phase of the fight. The _Poltava_ was the sternmost ship in the Russian battle-line; and as though her shots had been a signal, the fire instantly ran right along the Russian line from rear to van. The din was frightful, for our ships at once returned the Russian fire, and in a moment, as it seemed, the sea all round about the _Mikasa_ on our side, and the _Tsarevich, Peresviet_, and _Retvisan_ on the side of the Russians, was lashed into innumerable great fountains of leaping spray which shone magnificently, like great showers of vari-coloured jewels, in the orange light of the declining sun. And presently, as the gunners got the range, there were added to the deafening explosions of the guns the sounds of the projectiles smiting like Titan hammers upon the armoured sides and other protected parts of the ships, and the crash of bursting shells. Great clouds of powder smoke whirled about the ships, hiding them for a second or two and then driving away to leeward upon the wings of the increasing gale. Splinters of wood and iron, and fragments of burst shells swept over the ships like hail, and prostrate forms here and there about the decks, weltering in their blood, proclaimed the growing deadly accuracy of the fire on either side. The pandemonium of sound was such that the human voice could no longer make itself heard, and the officers on the bridges were obliged to give their orders in dumb show. Even the shrieks of the wounded went unheard in that hellish babel of sound. As the distance between the contending ships decreased one began to realise the terrific character of the forces employed by man for the destruction of his fellow-man, for now it could be seen that the _Tsarevich_, ponderous as was her bulk, literally and visibly heeled and swayed under the tremendous impact of the enemy's projectiles. But we were by no means getting things all our own way, for when the fight had been raging for about half an hour, the _Mikasa_ was struck upon her fore barbette by a 12-inch shell which shook the ship from stem to stern as it exploded, and put the barbette, with its two 12-inch guns, out of action for a time through the jamming of its turning machinery. The damage, however, was speedily repaired, and meanwhile the fight went on with ever-increasing fierceness and determination. At length the superiority of the Japanese fire began to make itself apparent. The speed of the Russian ships steadily fell, and it could be seen that many of them, particularly the battleships, were in great distress. Especially was this the case with Vitgeft's flagship, the _Tsarevich_, upon which much of the fire of our own battleships had been concentrated. She had a great hole in her bows, about ten feet in diameter; her anchors were shot away; and her hawse-pipes had vanished-- to enumerate only her more apparent injuries. Then a 12-inch shell struck her fore-turret, wrecked its interior and, as we subsequently learned, glanced off, entered the conning tower, killed everybody in it except two, destroyed the compass, and killed the man at the wheel, who, as he fell, jammed the helm hard a-starboard, causing the ship to swerve sharply out of the line and wheel round in a wide circle, completely upsetting the formation and seriously imperilling many of her sister ships. A few seconds later another shell fell aboard her, hitting the foot of her foremast and causing it to totter, though it did not actually fall. This same shell, we afterward learned, literally blew Admiral Vitgeft to atoms, also seriously wounding several of his staff, and throwing the ship into a perfect chaos of confusion. This was the beginning of the end; shells now literally rained upon her, doing frightful damage both on deck and below, while it was patent to all that she was completely out of control. Her erratic movements produced the utmost confusion in the Russian battle-line, which broke up and became a mere disorganised mob of ships, upon which the Japanese ships at once closed, determined to avail themselves to the utmost of the opportunity to bring the engagement to a speedy end. And, indeed, the end appeared to be near; for serious as was the plight of the _Tsarevich_, that of some of her sister battleships was even worse. The _Peresviet_, for example--the flagship of Prince Ukhtomsky, who, in consequence of the death of Admiral Vitgeft, was now in supreme command--was a perfect wreck, so far as her upper works were concerned; both masts were destroyed, her funnels were battered and pierced, and she was on fire; while the _Poltava_ had two of her 6-inch guns smashed and the containing turret jammed. At the moment when the confusion created by the erratic movements of the _Tsarevich_ was at its height, the _Peresviet_ displayed a signal from her bridge and, sheering out of the melee, headed away back in the direction of Port Arthur, followed by the _Sevastopol_ and _Poltava_, while the _Askold_, Admiral Reitsenstein's flagship, followed by the cruisers _Diana, Pallada_, and _Novik_, broke away from the rest of the fleet and, under every ounce of steam that they could raise, headed away in a south-easterly direction, followed by the _Asama_ and six other cruisers. As for the _Pobieda_ and _Retvisan_, apparently animated by the same desperate resolve, they suddenly shifted their helms and steamed straight for our battle-line, as the mortally wounded lion will sometimes turn upon the hunter and, with the last remains of his fast-ebbing strength, slay his foe before perishing himself. It looked as though both meant to use the ram, the successful employment of which might cost us the loss of at least two of our treasured battleships; and they were accordingly received with a terrific fire from every Japanese ship present. The _Retvisan_, being slightly in advance of her companion, received the heaviest of our fire, and under it she seemed to crumple up into an almost shapeless mass of wreckage. It was not possible for mere mortals to continue to face such a devastating hail of shells, and as suddenly as she had started toward us she now swerved away, instantly followed by the _Pobieda_, both steaming hard in the wake of Prince Ukhtomsky's division, which they rejoined just as the dusk of evening was turning to darkness. With the flight of those two ships the battle came to an end; because for some reason, known only to himself, Togo failed to follow up his advantage and complete the destruction of the Russian fleet. Some of us were of opinion that he felt himself handicapped by the stringent orders which he had received not to risk the loss of any of our precious battleships, one or more of which might easily have been destroyed in the darkness by mines dropped by the flying enemy, or by torpedoes launched from the decks of daring and enterprising destroyers. And if he was influenced by such considerations as these who shall blame him, or say that he was wrong? Yet people were not wanting who complained that the battle was an indecisive one, because no Russian ships had been either captured or sunk in the course of the fight. But although this assertion was undeniable, the grumblers forgot a little group of very important facts, the chief of which was that the five Russian battleships and the protected cruiser _Pallada_ which succeeded in regaining Port Arthur harbour were so desperately damaged that they were practically reduced to the condition of scrap iron, inasmuch as that, despite all the efforts of the Russians to repair them, none of them was again able to leave Port Arthur until they fell into the hands of the Japanese when the fortress surrendered. As for the sixth Russian battleship, the _Tsarevich_, she took advantage of the darkness to separate from the rest of the fleet, and made for Kiaochau, where she arrived on the following day, and where she was of course interned. The same fate befell the cruisers _Askold_ and _Diana_, the former of which sought shelter at Shanghai, while the latter succeeded in escaping as far south as Saigon. The destroyer _Reshitelny_, which separated from the Russian fleet immediately after its departure from Port Arthur, escaped the Japanese destroyers and duly reached Chifu, whither she had been sent with dispatches from Admiral Vitgeft, requesting that the Vladivostock squadron might be dispatched to assist him in his proposed passage through the Korean Strait. Her mission accomplished, her commander agreed to assent to the demand of Sah, the Chinese admiral on the station, that she should disarm and surrender certain vital parts of her machinery. The Japanese, however, had their doubts as to the power of the Chinese authorities to enforce this demand, and accordingly Commander Fujimoto took matters into his own hands and, late on the night of 11th October, entered Chifu harbour and, after an altercation with the commander of the Russian vessel, calmly took the _Reshitelny_ in tow and carried her off. This was of course a violation of neutral territory, and led to a little temporary friction, but it ended in the destroyer being added to the Japanese navy. CHAPTER NINETEEN. THE FALL OF PORT ARTHUR. I have said nothing as to the part played by the _Yakumo_ in the battle of the Yellow Sea, for the simple reason that there is nothing particular to relate; but that we played a not altogether unimportant part in the fight is evidenced by the fact that only two of the Japanese ships, namely, the _Mikasa_ and the _Nisshin_, had a heavier list of killed than ourselves, although the _Kasuga_ scored one more in wounded than we did. The fact is that, in a general engagement such as that referred to, after the initial movements of the various ships have been noted, one becomes so utterly engrossed in one's own particular share of the work that there is little opportunity to note more than the most salient incidents of the battle. Moreover, the din of battle, the continuous roar of the guns, the crash of bursting shells, the deafening clang of projectiles upon armour, the screams of the wounded, the suffocating fumes of powder, all tend to benumb one's powers of observation, so that the captain of a fighting ship has little opportunity to note anything more than the movements of the particular ship which he happens to be engaging at the moment. The importance of the defeat of the Port Arthur fleet, indecisive as it had at first seemed to be, soon began to be realised when our secret agents in the fortress sent us complete and carefully ascertained information relative to the condition of the ships which had succeeded in regaining the shelter of the harbour. From this information it at once became apparent that, as fighting units, none of them could again be made of service until the conclusion of the war, and Japan heaved a great sigh of relief, which was intensified when, on the evening of 14th August, the news was flashed through the country that the gallant and sorely tried Kamimura had at last been granted his long-cherished wish to meet the Vladivostock squadron, and had defeated it. True, the defeat, like that of the Port Arthur fleet, was not as decisive as could have been wished; for of the three cruisers--the _Gromovoi, Rossia_, and _Runk_--which sallied forth from Vladivostock, under the command of Admiral Jessen, in response to Admiral Vitgeft's call for support in his last desperate sortie from Port Arthur, two of them, the _Gromovoi_ and the _Rossia_, succeeded in regaining the shelter of Vladivostock harbour, while only the _Rurik_, the least formidable of the trio, was sunk. But again, as in the case of the Port Arthur fleet, although the bulk of the Russian force contrived to escape either capture or destruction, it had been so severely handled as to be rendered innocuous for many months to come, and Japan was at last free from the continual menace of it. The destruction of the fast cruiser _Novik_ in Korsakovsk harbour on 21st August, by the Japanese ship _Chitose_, drove the last nail in the coffin of Russia's naval power in the Far East; and from that time forward, with the exception of maintaining the effective blockade of Port Arthur, the Japanese navy had little to do except prepare itself at every point to meet the menace of the Baltic Fleet, which at this time was beginning to materialise and take definite shape. Meanwhile, after almost superhuman struggles against enormous odds, and in the face of frightful sufferings and losses, Japan's land forces were beginning to make progress. During the last days of July General Kuroki's forces fought and won the battles of Towan and the Yushuling Pass. On 3rd August, General Oku seized Hai-cheng and Newchwang old town, which is situated some twenty miles inland from the port of Newchwang; and then there came a pause, during which the final preparations for the advance upon Liao-yang were being completed. Liao-yang promised to be a very tough nut to crack, for General Kuropatkin, fully recognising the possibilities of the position, had determined to make his stand there and inflict upon the Japanese such a crushing defeat that all further capacity for taking the offensive would be driven out of them, after which, the subjugation of a beaten and disheartened enemy should prove an easy task, rendered all the easier, perhaps, by the fact that the great assault upon Port Arthur by the Japanese had failed disastrously, with frightful loss to the assailants. The defences of Liao-yang were of great extent and enormous strength, including not only formidable forts and earthworks armed with powerful guns, and mile upon mile of most carefully and elaborately constructed trenches, but also with innumerable pitfalls, each with its sharpened stake at the bottom, as in the case of the Nanshan Heights defences. These pitfalls were arranged in regular lines, interrupted at intervals by patches of mined ground, while outside these again there ran a practically continuous girdle of barbed wire entanglements, the wire being charged with an electric current powerful enough to instantly destroy any one who should be unfortunate enough to come into contact with it. Liao-yang defences were, in fact, a repetition of the defences of the Nanshan Heights--where the Japanese suffered such appalling losses--except that they were of an even more elaborate and deadly character. The attack upon Liao-yang was indeed in many respects a repetition of the attack upon Kinchau; for, as in the case of Kinchau, there was a formidable hill position--that of Shushan--to be first stormed and taken. This task was entrusted to the Second Japanese Army, under the leadership of General Oku; and they accomplished it on 1st September, after three nights and two days of desperate fighting, in the course of which the heroic Japanese suffered frightful losses. On the same day, the Russians began to withdraw from Liao-yang under a heavy fire from the Japanese artillery. On the following day the Japanese captured the Yentai mines; and a few hours later, General Nodzu, at the head of the Fourth Japanese Army, entered the town of Liao-yang unopposed. Meanwhile, what was the state of affairs on land before Port Arthur? As has already been said, the great general assault upon the land defences, which began on 19th August 1904, resulted in disastrous failure with frightful losses for the Japanese. Yet that failure, terrible as it was, was not by any means complete; its blackness was irradiated by a gleam of light here and there which sufficed to keep alive that spirit of hope and indomitable resolution which no misfortune could ever quite quench in the breast of the Japanese, and which was undoubtedly the determining factor in the campaign. To particularise. On 14th August the 1st Japanese Division was ordered to capture the five redoubts on the crest of the ridge west of the railway, known as the Swishiying redoubts. These redoubts were taken on the following day, and their capture paved the way for the general assault, four days later. This began with the furious bombardment of the height known as 174 Metre Hill, which was stormed and taken at the point of the bayonet, later in the day, by the 1st Division, which immediately pushed south-east, with the object of gaining possession of Namaokayama, or 180 Metre Hill. This hill was protected by, among other devices, an intricate barbed wire entanglement charged with a high-tension electric current, the penetration of which proved to be a task of almost insuperable difficulty; nevertheless, it was eventually accomplished. On the morning of 22nd August, by a splendid act of heroism and self-sacrifice on the part of fifty Japanese, West Panlung fort was captured, and this cleared the way for the capture of the East fort. But the superhuman efforts made by the Japanese in capturing these positions completely exhausted them, with the result that the assault ended in failure, since the majority of the defences remained in the hands of the Russians. On 23rd August, the battleship _Sevastopol_--which, it will be remembered, was one of the ships which contrived to make good her escape from the Japanese fleet after the battle of the Yellow Sea--having been patched-up, as far as the resources of Port Arthur dockyard would allow, got under way and, steaming round to Takhe Bay, proceeded to shell the Japanese lines in the neighbourhood of Ta-ku-Shan and the Panlung redoubts. It was a rather daring thing to do, for there was not a ship in the harbour capable of supporting her, while the Japanese blockading squadron in the offing was close enough in to be clearly visible from the heights. Included in that squadron were the new armoured cruisers _Nisshin_ and _Kasuga_, purchased from the Argentine just before the declaration of war; and no sooner was it seen that the _Sevastopol_ had actually ventured outside the harbour, than these two powerful craft steamed in and opened fire upon her, and also upon the Laolutze forts, which were supporting her. The approach of the Japanese cruisers was the signal for a hurried retirement on the part of the Russian battleship, and she lost no time in effecting her retreat to the harbour. But while entering, she struck a contact mine, which exploded beneath her bows, inflicting such serious damage that it was only with very great difficulty she succeeded in returning to her berth, with her bow almost completely submerged. This was the last straw, so far as the _Sevastopol_ was concerned, and she was practically put out of action for the remainder of the war. A week later our cruisers and destroyers effected a _coup_ which, there is every reason to believe, must have materially hastened the fall of the fortress. This consisted in the capture, off Round Island, of a great fleet of Chinese junks, bound from Wei-hai-wei to Port Arthur, conveying to the beleaguered city vast quantities of food, clothing, ammunition, explosives, and supplies of every imaginable description. The junks were taken into Dalny, where their cargoes were declared to be contraband of war, and confiscated by the Japanese. These several successes, comparatively unimportant though they were, coupled with the practical destruction of the Port Arthur and Vladivostock fleets, put new heart into the Japanese for a time; but with the arrival and passage of the month of September, during which no appreciable progress was made in the operations before Port Arthur, even the unexampled patience and superb stoicism thus far displayed by the Japanese as a people showed signs of the wear and tear to which they had so long been subjected, and murmurings at General Nogi's apparent non-success began to make themselves heard. The casualty lists seemed to grow ever longer with the passage of the days, without any visible result, except that Nogi contrived to retain possession of the few unimportant positions which he had gained, and a black cloud of pessimism seemed to be settling down upon the Island Empire. Meanwhile, however, in its silent, secret, undemonstrative way, the Japanese army had been making preparations of an important character, among which were included the construction of concrete emplacements for eighteen 11-inch howitzers, from which great things were expected. They fired a 500-pound projectile charged with high explosive, and had a range which enabled them to command the entire area of the fortress, including the harbour. On the 1st October the first six of these howitzers opened fire, in the presence of General Baron Kodama, who had crossed to Port Arthur from Japan to administer, perhaps, a fillip to the officers and the army generally. North Kikwan fort was the first recipient of the new guns' delicate attentions, one hundred shells being poured into it. Huge clouds of dust and smoke at once arose from the fort; but it was enormously strong, and no very important results were apparent. On the following day and for a few days afterwards the howitzers lobbed shells upon the fleet, and the _Pobieda, Poltava, Retvisan_, and _Peresviet_ were all struck, and their crews driven out of them, after which they were moved to the East harbour, where they were hidden from the sight of our gunners by the intervening high ground. Meanwhile the Japanese engineers were resolutely and industriously pushing their saps ever closer up to the Russian forts, in the progress of which task the most furious and sanguinary hand-to-hand fighting with bayonet and bomb was of daily, nay hourly, occurrence. The slaughter was appalling, few of the combatants on either side surviving such encounters. Yet, although the advantages were all on the side of the defenders, the patience and heroism of the Japanese steadily told, and on 4th October they attacked a work at Yenchang, near Takhe Bay, and destroyed the two machine-guns with which it was armed. This success was followed up by the capture, on 16th October, of an immensely strong Russian position on Hashimakayana Hill. Ten days later, the Japanese troops stormed and took, after hours of sanguinary fighting, the two important positions of Erhlung and Sungshushan, on the northern and north-western salients of the old Chinese Wall; and these successes were considered to have cleared the ground for the general assault which had been ordered from headquarters in Japan. For four days--27th, 28th, 29th, and 30th October--the Russian works were subjected to such a terrific bombardment as, up to then, mortal eyes had certainly never beheld. It reached its height about eight o'clock on the morning of the 30th, and continued until about one o'clock in the afternoon, during which the din was terrific and indescribable. Shell and shrapnel fell upon the Russian works at the rate of one hundred per minute, the forts resembled volcanoes in eruption, from the continuous explosions of the shells which fell upon them, and the entire landscape became veiled in a thick haze of smoke. At one o'clock the preparation was thought to be complete; and ten minutes later the great assault began--to end in complete and disastrous failure! The Russian forts, supposed to have been silenced by those four days of terrific bombardment, were as formidable as ever; and as the stormers dashed forward they were met by so furious a rifle and artillery fire that they were literally annihilated. The second grand assault upon Port Arthur had failed, as completely and tragically as the first! To have incurred such tremendous losses for such insignificant results was a terribly depressing experience for Japan; but the benumbing effect of the blow began to pass away when, in the first week of November, the news arrived of General Oku's splendid success upon the Shaho; and with renewed hope, and that indomitable patience and courage which is so marked a feature of Japanese character, the troops before Port Arthur set to work to repair their disasters. Their first success was achieved in the middle of the month of November, when they gained possession of the little village of Kaokiatun, thus securing the command of Pigeon Bay. This success was followed, on the 23rd of the month, by an attempt on the part of the Japanese to capture the Russian trench on East Kikwan Hill. The attempt resulted in failure, with a loss of some three hundred slain, to say nothing of wounded. This was followed, on the 26th, by an attack upon Q Fort, North Kikwan, Erhlung, and Sungshushan. This too resulted in failure for the Japanese, with awful slaughter; the failure in this case, however, being tempered by the capture of the trench on East Kikwan Hill. This capture was of very great importance to the Japanese, from the fact that it commanded the approach to the fort on the summit of the hill; and the Russians, recognising this fact, fought madly to regain possession of the trench, finally succeeding toward midnight. The fighting on this occasion was most disastrous for the Japanese, their wounded alone totalling over 6000, while it was estimated that in dead their losses must have exceeded 10,000! The result of all this sanguinary fighting was to convince the Japanese Staff, at last, that the defences on the eastern slope were impregnable to assault, and must be captured by other means. They accordingly next turned their attention to 203 Metre Hill, which was the key to the eastern defences of Port Arthur, and determined to take it by assault. This was a particularly tough proposition, and after the tremendous losses which Nogi's army had already suffered in its disastrous assaults upon the eastern defences, the Staff might well have been excused had it hesitated to undertake such a herculean task. For the position was so immensely strong that the Russians regarded it as impregnable. The merely natural difficulties of the adventure were great, for, as its name indicates, it was a lofty hill, with steep, almost precipitous slopes, to scale which, even unopposed, was no light task. But when to this difficulty was added the further one that the hill had two summits, each crowned by very strong earthworks constructed of sand-bags, timber and steel rails, connected by tunnels with bomb-proof works on the rear slope, and that it was further protected by two lines of trenches, themselves protected by strong barbed wire entanglements, and that the works on the summit mounted several machine-guns and some heavier pieces of artillery, the reader may be able to form some slight idea of the obstacles which the Japanese undertook to surmount, as well as the indomitable courage which possessed them to make the attempt. It must not be supposed, however, that the attack was about to be made on the spur of the moment and without any previous preparation. On the contrary; for two whole months the Japanese had been steadily sapping from the north and north-west, day and night, in face of the most vigorous and determined opposition on the part of the Russians, first constructing a parallel about a hundred yards from the first line of Russian trenches, and, from this parallel, driving saps which pierced the wire entanglements and in two places reached to within fifty yards of the Russian line. And while this was being done, four of the new Japanese 11-inch howitzers concentrated their fire upon the works on the twin summits of the hill. The assault was ordered for the evening of 27th November. Supported by a heavy bombardment from the howitzers and batteries in their rear, the troops chosen for the assault broke cover and rushed the first line of Russian trenches, bayoneting the occupants almost before the latter had time to open fire upon them. Then followed hand-to-hand fighting of the most ferocious and sanguinary character, which lasted all night. Morning found the assailants still in possession of the trench which had been won; and now, strongly reinforced, the Japanese proceeded to push forward to attack the summit and Akasakayama battery. Immediately, the Russian guns in the neighbouring forts opened fire upon the stormers with shrapnel and heavy shell, and in a very few minutes the entire scene was so completely veiled in powder smoke that it was impossible for anyone to tell exactly how the fight was going. Four times the Japanese stormed the crest and were beaten back; and it was not until three o'clock in the afternoon, when they delivered their fifth assault, that they at last burst through the wire entanglements and reached the crest. For a time they held it; but the Russian fire was too hot for them, and at length they were not only driven off the crest but also out of the trench which they had won on the previous night. The attack was resumed the next day, and again resulted in failure. Then the Japanese Staff put its foot down and declared that both hills _must_ be taken, at all costs! The cruisers _Sai-yen_ and _Akagi_ were ordered round to Pigeon Bay to co-operate with the troops by covering the assault with their fire; but, unfortunately, as the _Sai-yen_ was getting into position on the 30th, she struck a mine and sank, not far from where the old _Hei-yen_ disappeared some two months earlier. This put an end to the plan for naval assistance, and the land forces were obliged to rely entirely upon themselves. Fighting of the most desperate and sanguinary character proceeded all through the afternoon and night of 30th November, but it was not until the next day that the indomitable courage and persistence of the Japanese were rewarded with success; the western summit of 203 Metre Hill being taken by them and held all day, despite the most desperate efforts on the part of the Russians to retake it. This was the beginning of the end, so far as Port Arthur was concerned. On 5th December the eastern summit of the hill also fell into the hands of the Japanese, and next day they secured possession of Akasakayama, thus obtaining command of the entire Metre range. These important positions in their possession, the tide of war at once turned in favour of the Japanese, for the heights commanded not only the town but the harbour of Port Arthur; and the big 11-inch howitzers, as well as a battery of naval 6-inch and 47-inch guns, were at once brought up, and the bombardment of the Russian warships was begun. On 6th December the _Poltava_ was sunk by the Russians to save her from destruction by the Japanese fire. Next day the _Retvisan_ met a like fate, while a fire broke out aboard the _Peresviet_, and on the 8th she and the _Pobieda_ were at the bottom of the harbour, while the _Pallada_ was obviously following them. On the following day the _Bayan_ was hit no less than twenty-two times, bursting into flame shortly before noon and burning until shortly after four o'clock in the afternoon, while the _Sevastopol_ was seriously damaged. The mine-laying ship _Amur_ was also hit and sunk. The dockyard sustained serious damage, yet, strangely enough, all through this bombardment the Russians did little by way of reply; they seemed overwhelmed and paralysed at the misfortunes which were now befalling them--or else, as some of us began to shrewdly suspect, their ammunition was at last exhausted. On the 9th of the month the _Sevastopol_--the only Russian battleship still remaining afloat in the harbour--moved from her moorings and sought refuge behind a big boom under the guns of Mantushan fort, on the Tiger peninsula, where, a few nights later, she was energetically attacked by our destroyers. These attacks were repeated nightly, with considerable loss to our side, until the night of 15th-16th, when the ship was successfully torpedoed. Her end was so evidently near now that we ceased our attacks; but nothing could save her, and on the 20th of the month her captain took her out into deep water, opened her Kingston valves, and sank her, so that she might not fall into the hands of the Japanese. Meanwhile, North Kikwan fort was captured by our troops on the night of the 18th, after a fight which cost us close upon a thousand men. Two days later, we took a battery close to it; and on the 28th, the formidable Erhlung became ours after a tremendous fight. Success after success on our part now followed each other rapidly, each additional capture firing our troops with renewed courage and determination. The last day of the year saw Sungshushan fort fall to us, and the first day of 1905 saw the New Panlung and H batteries in our hands, the Chinese Wall breached, and the Japanese flag planted well within the Russian defences. Wangtai fort was stormed and taken on the afternoon of the same day, and as twilight was closing down upon the scene a Cossack, bearing a large white flag, was seen riding out of the Swishiying valley, followed by a Russian officer. The officer was the bearer of a letter from General Stoessel to General Nogi, inviting the latter to open negotiations with the writer "to determine the conditions of surrender" of Port Arthur. Needless to say, the Japanese general gladly, yet without undue haste, acceded to Stoessel's proposal; and at noon of 2nd January 1905, Major-General Ijichi met Major-General Reiss at Plum Tree Cottage, a miserable little hovel situated in the village of Swishiying, and the negotiations were opened which resulted in Port Arthur passing into the possession of the Japanese on the evening of that day, although the Russian evacuation did not take place until the 5th of January. CHAPTER TWENTY. THE BATTLE OF TSUSHIMA. Meanwhile, what had become of the Japanese navy, after the battle of the Yellow Sea? So far as the _Yakumo_ was concerned, we were in the very thick of the fight when it was at its hottest, and when at length the battle came to an end with the flight of the _Retvisan_ and _Pobieda_, we were one of the ships which had been so severely mauled that extensive repairs were necessary before we could undertake further service. Accordingly, we were ordered to proceed forthwith to Sasebo to refit; and since we were by no means alone in our plight, we had to await our turn. Hence it was the middle of January 1905 before the _Yakumo_ was again ready for sea; and in the meantime I had ample opportunity to cement my friendship with the members of the Boyd family, who had acted the part of Good Samaritan to me when I first made acquaintance with Sasebo. The day before the _Yakumo_ left Sasebo for our rendezvous at the Elliot Islands, news arrived that the long talked-of Baltic Fleet had reached Madagascar and was at anchor in Passandava Bay, refitting, provisioning, and generally enjoying the hospitality of the French nation. This, of course, was not the first news that we had received of it; we had been duly apprised of its departure from Libau on 15th October and had also heard--with surprise on the part of the Japanese, and with bitter mortification and shame on my own part--of its subsequent unprovoked and unpunished attack upon the Gamecock fleet of British trawlers; but nobody was in the least disturbed by the news that this formidable fleet was at last actually at sea, for as a matter of fact we in Japan regarded its departure as nothing more than a move on the part of the Russian Government intended to encourage the garrison of Port Arthur to continue its resistance. For, to speak the plain truth, nobody seriously believed that the voyage would ever be continued far beyond the western extremity of the English Channel, for we could not see how it was going to be done. But _now_, when it was apparent that France was openly ignoring and outraging all the laws governing neutral nations, in favour of Russia, it behoved Japan to take serious notice of what was happening, and she not only protested vigorously against France's violation of neutrality, but set to work in earnest to prepare for the new menace which was gradually creeping closer to her shores. For a month after the arrival of the _Yakumo_ at the Elliots, I and half of my crew formed a portion of that busy multitude who toiled in Port Arthur harbour to raise the sunken ships which cumbered it, and to clear the entrance channel; but on the 10th of February the naval contingent rejoined its ships, and on the 14th the Japanese battle fleet disappeared from human ken, and for three whole months was no more seen, save by a few who were made clearly to understand the vital necessity to remain absolutely silent. Not so, however, the Japanese cruisers. It was our mission to generate a feeling of uneasiness and anxiety in the mind of Admiral Rojdestvensky and those of his officers and men; and with that object squadrons and single ships were directed to show themselves suddenly and mysteriously, and as suddenly to disappear again, in those waters through which the Russian fleet would have to pass on its voyage to Vladivostock. And we did this so effectually and with such excellent judgment that very soon the various telegraph cables grew hot with the number of messages transmitted through them, telling the most marvellous stories of enormous Japanese fleets seen in various parts of the world at the same moment, and of huge and incredibly strong fortifications erected on the Formosan coast and elsewhere. "Bluffing" was not confined to our side, however; French newspapers were permitted to fall into our hands, in which the news was circumstantially set forth that, in consequence of the fall of Port Arthur, Admiral Rojdestvensky had been recalled, and that he was taking his entire fleet back to Europe by way of the Suez Canal--with the exception of four of his best battleships, which, it was hinted, had foundered at sea. On 20th March, however, reliable information reached Japan that the 1st and 2nd Divisions of Rojdestvensky's fleet had left Madagascar on the 16th of the month, steering north-east. Two days later, news reached us that the Russian fleet had been sighted in the Indian Ocean, still steering north-east; and a week later the first of our scouts--a smart and fast steam yacht, flying German colours--apparently bound westward, passed within four miles of the armada, took careful count of it, and reported by wireless its exact position and the fact that it consisted of forty-three ships, seven of which were battleships, while of the rest, ten were cruisers and seven were destroyers. From that moment our scouts, under every conceivable guise except that of warships, never for a moment lost touch with the Russians. We knew that they passed Singapore on 8th April; we knew that they touched at the Anamba Islands and coaled there before the Dutch warships could arrive to prevent them; and we knew that on 14th April the fleet arrived in Kamranh harbour, in French Indo-China, where, while awaiting the arrival of Admiral Nebogatoff's squadron,--which was coming out via the Suez Canal,--the Russians proceeded to make good defects and generally prepare for the fight which they knew awaited them. Of course the Japanese Government vigorously protested against this flagrant violation of the law regulating the conduct of neutrals, and France replied with polite assurances that such violation should not be repeated. This was followed by an order to the Russians to leave Kamranh harbour, which they obeyed at their leisure, moving on first to Port Dayot and then--when ordered from there in response to fresh Japanese protests--to Hon-koe Bay. Thus, with the connivance of the French authorities, a very pretty game of hide-and-seek was played by Rojdestvensky, until 8th May, when Nebogatoff joined with his nine craft, and the now completed fleet entered Hon-koe Bay and calmly proceeded to complete the task of refitting, coaling, and provisioning prior to its great attempt to force its way through to Vladivostock. As for the Japanese Government, it speedily recognised that France had quite made up its mind to ignore the laws of neutrality in favour of Russia, and accordingly ceased to lodge any further useless protests. A week later--on 14th May, to be exact--the entire Russian fleet left Hon-koe Bay, steering northward; and although the French authorities suppressed the news of the departure for two whole days, Togo, who was now with his fleet in Chin-hai Bay, on the southern coast of Korea, received the news by wireless the same night. Thenceforward its progress was carefully watched and reported daily, so that at any moment Togo could put his finger upon the chart and indicate the position of the enemy, within a few miles. Meanwhile, Togo was busily engaged in the preparation of his plans for the great battle toward which we had all been looking forward for so long. In this work he was of course hampered by his lack of knowledge as to the intentions of the Russians. There were two routes by which they could reach Vladivostock: one--much the shorter of the two--by way of Korea Strait and up through the Sea of Japan; and the other, via the east coast of Japan and La Perouse Strait. Also, should Rojdestvensky choose the shorter route, he could pass either to the east or to the west of Tsushima Island. Togo solved the problem by preparing a plan of battle for each of the three alternative routes. On 26th May the Russian fleet was reported as being south-west of Quelpart Island, off the entrance of Korea Strait, and its position rendered it practically certain that it was Rojdestvensky's intention to take the shorter route up through the Sea of Japan. It was shortly before sunset, on 26th May, that the fateful wireless message--"Enemy in sight, fifty miles west of Torishima,"--came in from one of our scouting cruisers; and two minutes later a signal was flying from the _Mikasa_, summoning the Japanese admirals to a council of war. The council was a brief one, lasting barely a quarter of an hour; then the admirals returned to their respective flagships, and the latter at once signalled the captains of the several squadrons to meet in the cabin of the admiral of that squadron. The _Yakumo_ formed part of the armoured cruiser division, under the command of Admiral Kamimura, and accordingly it was in the cabin of the _Idzumo_ that the six captains of that division presently assembled to receive our instructions. These were concise enough, and of such a character as to indicate that Togo had given this long-expected battle a tremendous amount of consideration, and had finally settled all the details with almost mathematical precision. In the first place, for good and sufficient reasons, the battle was to be fought in the eastern strait, and, as nearly as possible, off the northern extremity of the island of Tsushima. To ensure this, the old _Chin-yen_, the _Itsukushima, Matsushima_, and _Hashidate_, of the protected cruiser squadron, accompanied by one division of destroyers, were to act the part of lures, approaching the Russian fleet on the following morning, as it neared the Straits, alternately attacking and retiring in the direction of the eastern strait, thus inveigling Rojdestvensky into a pursuit in that direction. The ships told off for this duty were to proceed to sea at once, as the _Chin-yen_--the slowest craft of the quartette--was only good for thirteen knots at best, and it was not desired that any ship should be pushed to the limit of her powers until the engagement should become general. The remainder of the protected cruiser division-- fourteen in number--were to proceed to sea with the main fleet on the following morning, parting company when all were fairly at sea, and then find the enemy's rear, closing in upon it and harassing it as much as possible, acting according to circumstances, quite independently of the main fleet, and each captain using his own initiative. As for us of the armoured cruiser division, we were to have the honour of forming part of the battle-line. This was sufficiently gratifying intelligence, but that which followed was even more so: the former tactics of engaging the enemy at extreme range, in order to preserve our precious battleships from injury, were to be abandoned; this was the battle for which they had been so carefully hoarded, and in it they must be made the fullest use of, their utmost value must be exacted; in a word, they were to be fought for all that they were worth, closing with the enemy to within effective range, and firing slowly and deliberately, so that every shot should tell. There was also a general order issued, in the highest degree illustrative of Japanese thoroughness. It was that every man throughout the fleet was to wash himself from head to foot most carefully and thoroughly, and to put on clean clothing, in order to reduce to a minimum the risk of septic poisoning of wounds, also to don woollen outer garments, so that their clothing might not be set on fire by bursting shells. Nor had the ships themselves been forgotten. In turn each had been dry-docked, repaired, defects made good, down to the tightening of a loose screw, machinery overhauled and parts replaced where thought necessary, bottoms cleared of weed and coated afresh with anti-fouling composition, and hulls repainted, until each ship looked as though she had just been taken out of a glass case. And now there they all lay, in Chin-hai harbour, with boilers chipped clean of deposit and filled with fresh water, flues, tubes, and furnaces carefully-cleaned, new fire-bars inserted where needed, fires carefully laid and ready to be lighted at a moment's notice, and every bunker packed with specially selected Welsh coal, purchased for this very purpose, long ago. Furnace fires were at once lighted and steam raised; and before midnight the old _Chin-yen_--looking very spruce and fit, despite her age--and her three companion cruisers quietly got their anchors and proceeded to sea, while aboard the ships still in harbour the crews were busily engaged in making the preparations referred to in the general order, before retiring to what was for some of them to be their last night's sleep on earth. As for me, I sat in my cabin, far into the night, writing long letters to my friends at home, so that, in the event of anything untoward happening to me, they might know that loving thoughts of them were in my heart up to the last. In Chin-hai harbour the morning of 27th May 1905 dawned bright and clear, and at five o'clock the crews of the Japanese ships partook of a substantial meal before proceeding to the task of clearing for action. They were still partaking of this meal when a marconi-gram arrived from the _Shinano Maru_, one of our scouts, informing us that the Russian fleet was in sight, entering the eastern strait; that it was impossible as yet to say how many ships were present, as the atmosphere was misty; also that there was a high sea running in which the Russian ships were rolling heavily. This was the news that Togo had been anxiously awaiting; and now that he had it, and knew that the enemy was making for the precise spot where it had been planned to meet him, the little Admiral gave vent to a great sigh of relief, and ordered the signal to be made for the protected cruiser squadron to weigh and lead the rest of the fleet out to sea. This order was at once carried out, quietly and deliberately--for there was plenty of time on hand, the _Chitose_, Admiral Kotaoka's flagship, and her four consorts leading, followed by the _Kasagi_ and her four consorts, under Admiral Dewa; these being followed in turn by the _Akitsushima_ and her three consorts, under Admiral Uriu. These three squadrons, with that which had proceeded to sea some hours previously, under the leadership of the younger Togo, to draw the Russians into the eastern strait, constituted the protected cruiser division, to which had been assigned the duty of attacking and harassing the enemy's rear. Following these went the main battle squadron, with the _Mikasa_, flying Togo's flag, proudly leading, followed by the battleships _Shikishima, Fuji_, and _Asahi_, with the new and powerful cruisers _Kasuga_ and _Nisshin_ bringing up the rear. Then, at a short interval, followed the _Idzumo_, flying Admiral Kamimura's flag, and the _Iwate, Yakumo, Adzuma, Asama_, and _Tokiwa_, in the order named, every ship flaunting two big battle-flags in the morning breeze. Once clear of the harbour, we parted company from the protected cruiser division, which headed away South-South-East, to get in the rear of the enemy, while we of the battle-line steered a trifle to the south of east for the battleground which Togo had selected. On the port side of the line steamed a flotilla of Japan's fastest destroyers, told off by Togo to act as dispatch boats, in the event of the flagship's wireless apparatus being put out of action, or her masts shot away. Once clear of the land, we soon ran into an atmosphere of haze and a rising sea which set the long line of ships rolling ponderously; and as the vessels rolled and plunged, flinging heavy showers of spray over their weather bows, each captain stood in his chart-room, with a chart of the strait spread open on the table before him, anxiously awaiting the next news of the enemy. These charts had been, for convenience' sake, carefully divided up into a series of numbered squares; and about nine o'clock the expected message arrived. It ran--"The enemy is in two hundred and three," that being the number of the square on the chart occupied by the Russian fleet at that moment. No sooner was the message decoded and its purport made known than mutual congratulations were exchanged; for even as the fall of 203 Metre Hill into the hands of our soldiers had been the prelude to the surrender of Port Arthur, so now the fact of the Russian fleet being in square 203 on the chart was accepted as an omen of another victory. The fine weather of the early morning had by this time completely deserted us; the sky had become overcast, Tsushima's conical summit was hidden by a great bank of heavy, louring cloud, the grey, dreary-looking sea was running in confused, turbulent, foam-flecked surges through which the big ships wallowed heavily, flinging great combers of yeasty froth from either bow, while the little torpedo craft, smothered in spray, were tossed about like corks. Yet, despite the gloomy aspect of the weather, the Japanese fleet presented a magnificent and inspiriting sight as it ploughed steadily through the leaping, mist-flecked sea, each ship keeping station with the most perfect accuracy, with her two-- and in some cases three--great battle-flags snapping defiantly in the freshening breeze. It was shortly after six bells in the forenoon watch when we at length received a message which must have removed a load of anxiety from our little Admiral's mind. It came from the _Izumi_--one of the ships which had been dispatched on the previous night for the purpose of luring the enemy into the eastern channel--and reported that at length her captain had succeeded in ascertaining the full force of the enemy's fleet, and that it consisted of eleven battleships of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd classes, nine cruisers, nine auxiliary cruisers, and nine destroyers. These were heavy odds to face with our four battleships, eight armoured cruisers, and eighteen protected cruisers; yet never for a moment did we shrink from the encounter, for we were, one and all, _determined_ to conquer. Moreover, the weather, gloomy as it was, was in our favour, for our ships, having been painted the peculiar grey tint that had been found so effective in the atmosphere of the Sea of Japan, were scarcely visible at a distance of four miles, while the heavy sea would probably give our own gunners a great advantage over those of the enemy. It was about a quarter to two o'clock in the afternoon, and we were steaming in line ahead, with the _Mikasa_ leading, our course being about South-South-West, when, the fog thinning somewhat, we suddenly saw, away on our port bow, a great cloud of black smoke, underneath which we presently discerned several large ships approaching in two lines, their black hulls and yellow funnels showing up with remarkable distinctness against the light grey background of fog. Instantly every telescope and pair of binoculars in the Japanese fleet was levelled at them in an endeavour to identify the craft in sight--for we were intimately acquainted with the characteristics of every ship in the enemy's fleet--and presently we recognised the big, three-funnelled craft at the head of the port line as the _Oslabia_, while the two-funnelled battleship leading the starboard line was undoubtedly the _Suvaroff_, Admiral Rojdestvensky's flagship. Astern of her followed the _Alexander Third, Borodino_, and _Orel_; while in the wake of the _Oslabia_ we were able to identify the _Sissoi Veliki, Navarin_, and _Admiral Nakhimoff_, with a long string of other craft at that moment too far distant for identification. While we were still endeavouring to identify some of the more distant ships, the _Mikasa_ made the general signal: "The fate of our Empire depends upon our efforts. Let every man do his utmost!" It was greeted with a great roar of "Banzai Nippon!" which swept along the line of the fleet like the rumbling of distant thunder. The crews of the ships had, of course, been at quarters, and the officers at fire-control stations, for some time, and now we began to receive from the range-finders the range of the _Oslabia_, the leading Russian ship. "Fifteen thousand yards", "Fourteen thousand", "Twelve thousand," came the reports in rapid succession as the two fleets rushed toward each other. At a distance of twelve thousand yards the _Mikasa's_ helm was shifted and the course of the Japanese line altered four points to the eastward, as though our purpose was to pass along the Russian line to port, exchanging broadsides as we passed; and so the enemy evidently understood, for he came steadily on. But we knew differently. Already every forward gun in the fleet was bearing steadily upon the _Oslabia_, and when, in obedience to a signal from the flagship, the speed of the Japanese fleet quickened up to fifteen knots, we knew that the great battle was about to begin. It began a few minutes earlier than we anticipated, for our range-finders had just given the distance of the head of the Russian column as nine thousand yards, when two bright flashes, followed by a great cloud of white smoke, broke from the _Oslabia's_ fore-turret, and presently we saw two great fountains of foam leap into the air some distance beyond the _Mikasa_. As though this had been a signal, the _Suvaroff, Alexander Third_, and _Sissoi Veliki_ instantly followed suit, and a second or two later we heard the loud, angry muttering of 12-inch shells hurtling toward us. But some flew over, and others fell short; not one touched us; and as the heavy, rumbling _boom_ of the reports reached our ears, the _Mikasa_ signalled another shift of helm a further four points east, and before the Russians fully realised what we were about, the Japanese fleet was "crossing the T,"--that is to say, passing athwart the enemy's course. Every gun which the Russians could bring to bear upon us was now being loaded and fired as rapidly as possible, so that in a very short time the enemy's ships were enveloped in whirling wreaths of powder smoke, yet not a single Japanese gun had thus far spoken. "Six thousand yards" was presently signalled by the range-finders; and at the same moment three shots roared forth from the turrets of the _Mikasa, Shikishima_, and _Fuji_. We knew at what target they were aimed, and those of us who happened to have our glasses at our eyes saw a bright flash and a cloud of smoke suddenly burst into view on the _Oslabia's_ conning tower. One of our 12-inch shells had found its mark, and--as we subsequently learned--instantly killed Admiral Folkersam! This instant success told us that we might unhesitatingly rely upon the accuracy of our range-finders, and at once every ship in the Japanese battle-line opened fire, first upon the _Oslabia_ and then upon the _Suvaroff_, our manoeuvre of "crossing the T" enabling us to bring every one of our broadside guns upon the enemy, while he, in turn, could only fire a few of his fore-turret guns, the rest being blanketed by the ships leading the line. The careful, deliberate fire of twelve ships upon two could have but one result; the _Oslabia_ and _Suvaroff_ both received a most fearful punishing; the unprotected portions of their hulk were blown to ribbons, dense columns of dark smoke poured from the _Oslabia_, and presently it was seen that she and the _Suvaroff_ were on fire and burning furiously. Both ships, as though instinctively, swerved away to the eastward, anxious not to shorten the distance any farther between themselves and the Japanese, and presently both the _Oslabia_ and the _Suvaroff_ fell out of their respective lines and dropped to the rear, with both their own lines between them and the enemy. Then came the turn of the _Alexander Third_, which was now leading the Russian starboard line; and she got even more severely peppered than her battered sisters in misfortune, for the range had now dwindled to four thousand yards, and every shot of ours was telling with terrible effect. It must not be supposed, however, that while the enemy was being punished so severely, we were going scatheless. We were not; very far from it, although we were giving a good deal better than we received. Shells were by this time falling pretty thickly all around us, while hits were becoming steadily less infrequent. The first to come aboard the _Yakumo_ was a 12-inch shell which struck our fore barbette on the starboard side, glanced upward, striking the conning tower and exploding, the fragments wrecking a couple of ventilators, a boat, and freely puncturing our fore funnel, while one piece swept my cap off my head and overboard. The _Asama_, however, next but one astern of the _Yakumo_, suffered very much more severely than we did, three heavy shells hitting her abaft in quick succession, throwing her steering gear out of action, and causing her to leak so badly that she had to drop out of the line and be left astern, executing temporary repairs. By this time--that is to say, shortly before six bells in the afternoon watch--the two fleets were heading about East-South-East, running in parallel lines, our own line leading that of the enemy by about a mile, while the _Alexander Third_ was, like the _Oslabia_ and _Suvaroff_, in flames and blazing furiously. A few minutes later it was seen that the _Sissoi Veliki_ was also on fire, she being now the leading ship of the Russian port line of battle, and, in accordance with Togo's tactics, the object, with the _Navarin_ and _Admiral Nakhimoff_, of the concentrated fire of our battle-line. Meanwhile, our protected cruiser squadrons had come upon the scene and were harassing the Russian rear so effectively that, aided by the vigorous attack of our battle-line upon the Russian van, the enemy's line was breaking up in confusion. Togo now gave the order for us to close in upon the enemy's van, himself leading the way in the _Mikasa_, with the result that the leading Russian ships, in order to avoid being crossed and raked, were compelled to continually bear ever more and more away to the southward, until finally they swept right round and were all heading north once more, with the _Alexander Third, Suvaroff_, and _Oslabia_ all out of the line and practically out of action. It is difficult, nay more it is impossible, for the captain of a ship taking part in a general action to note and remember every phase and detail of such action; he is so intensely preoccupied in the task of fighting and manoeuvring his own ship that only certain detached incidents of the engagements impress themselves upon his memory strongly enough to be permanently remembered; thus I am able to recall that about this period of the battle I came to the definite conclusion that we had won, notwithstanding the fact that several of our ships, including the _Yakumo_, had suffered severely. The _Asama_, for example, was at least temporarily out of action, while the _Kasuga_--one of the two new cruisers purchased from the Argentine just before the outbreak of the war--had all three of her heavy guns rendered useless. By this time our protected cruiser division had crept up on the starboard quarter of the Russian line, and was vigorously attacking in that direction, while our battle-line, to port of the Russians, was as vigorously pounding the enemy's front, thus bringing the Russian line between two fires. It was about this time that one of those brief interludes of comparative inaction which occur in most battles afforded me an opportunity to look round a bit and obtain my first comprehensive view of the battle since its commencement. The wind, which had been blowing fresh during the earlier part of the day, had been gradually dropping, and was now little more than a mere breathing, but the sky still continued overcast and gloomy, its shadow, falling upon the sullenly heaving but no longer breaking seas, causing the tumbling waters to look almost black where they were not veiled by the drifting smoke wreaths or slowly moving patches of fog. It was the obscuration caused by this combination of smoke and fog that had produced the interval of comparative inaction of which I have spoken, for it rendered accurate firing difficult, and our ships, in accordance with Togo's determination not to waste ammunition, were only firing occasional single shots, when the hull of an opponent became distinctly visible, although the Russians were blazing away at us as recklessly as ever, thus enveloping themselves in an almost continuous veil of smoke, which was renewed as quickly as it drifted away. It was now that the _Asama_, having effected temporary repairs, came up and resumed her place in our line of battle, which was thus once more intact, our ships keeping station with the most perfect regularity with the Russian line, such as it was, some four thousand yards distant about a point abaft our starboard beam. The roar of the enemy's artillery was incessant, the continuous crashing _boom_ of the guns reminding one, as much as anything, of a tremendous thunderstorm, while the flash of their guns, seen through the gloom of the louring afternoon, not altogether inadequately represented the accompanying lightning. I looked round to see if I could discover either of the silenced Russian battleships. Yes, there they were, all three of them: the _Oslabia_ about three miles away, broad on our starboard quarter; the _Suvaroff_ about half a mile astern of her; and the _Alexander Third_ about a mile astern of the _Suvaroff_, all astern of their own line, and all being vigorously attacked by our protected cruisers. The _Oslabia_ was low in the water and had a heavy list to port; the _Suvaroff_, still apparently on fire, had lost both her funnels and her foremast; and the _Alexander Third_, from which clouds of smoke, were still rising, also had a heavy list and was steaming ahead very slowly, although she, like her sisters in misfortune, still replied with the utmost gallantry to our fire. But, so far as the _Oslabia_ was concerned, her race was evidently run, for even as I watched her it became apparent that she was fast settling in the water, while with every roll her list to port became stronger, until at last I found myself holding my breath in momentary expectation to see her roll right over. The catastrophe was not long delayed. There came a moment when, having rolled heavily to port, she failed to lift again, but heeled steadily more and more until, watching her through my powerful glasses, I saw a number of objects go sliding away off her decks into the water with a heavy splash; over she went until her masts and funnels lay along on the water, her two after-turret guns spoke out defiantly for the last time; and down she went in a great swirl of foam, while the Russian destroyers closed in upon the spot to save such of her crew as might contrive to remain afloat. I now turned my attention to the _Suvaroff_, and was just in time to witness a very plucky attack upon her by a squadron of our destroyers, which, notwithstanding her disabled condition, she beat off in most gallant fashion. Next, I turned to have a look at the _Alexander Third_. Her crew appeared to have extinguished the fire aboard her and got her back into something like her former trim. She was now heading to rejoin the Russian line--which was re-forming after a fashion, and presently I saw her drop into third place in the line, between the _Orel_ and the _Sissoi Veliki_, which latter also seemed to have extinguished her fire. Meanwhile the mist had thickened into fog, which rapidly became so dense that we presently lost sight of the enemy altogether. Shrewdly suspecting that the Russians would seize this opportunity to effect their escape, Togo now led his battle-line round in a sweep from North-East to South-West, and then to south for a distance of some eight miles, during which we sighted and shelled the enemy's cruiser squadron and some of his auxiliary ships heading to the south-west. At this point Togo decided to turn northward again, but before doing so he detached the six armoured cruisers--of which the _Yakumo_ was one--under Admiral Kamimura, with orders to pursue and destroy the ships of which we had just lost sight. This was about four o'clock in the afternoon. By this time the wind had dwindled away to a mere nothing, and the sea had so far gone down that our torpedo craft could keep pace with the larger craft without being swept by seas from stem to stern; still, the weather continued to be very dismal and dreary, the sky still lowering and overcast, not a solitary gleam of sunshine, and the fog gathering so thickly that it was difficult to see anything beyond a two-mile radius. The heavy gun-firing had by this time died down to nothing; but a pretty lively cannonade of lighter weapons down in the south-western quarter told us that the engagement between our cruisers and those of the enemy was still proceeding briskly although nothing could be seen. Accordingly, the _Idzumo_ led her five armoured sisters in that direction, at a speed of fifteen knots. Suddenly, as we pushed along, guided on our course by the sounds of the firing, the thunder of heavy guns, easily distinguishable from the sharper report of the lighter weapons, burst forth ahead, to our amazement, for we fully believed that the whole of the enemy's battleships had fled northward. Clearly, however, we were mistaken in so believing, and Kamimura at once recognised that capricious fortune was unexpectedly holding out to him the opportunity to wipe off some of the utterly undeserved opprobrium that had attached to him earlier in the war, because of his failure to bring the Vladivostock squadron to book, and which his later success had by no means effaced; accordingly, he signalled the squadron to increase speed to eighteen knots, which was supposed to be the maximum attainable by the _Asama_ and ourselves, although the others were capable of an extra knot. This inferiority of speed on our part had always been rather a sore point with me, and I had had many a talk with Carmichael, the _Yakumo's_ Engineer Commander, about it, who had felt the reproach as keenly as I did, and had assured me that if ever the worse came to the worst, he would undertake to get the extra knot out of the ship, although it would be at the peril of what he elegantly termed "a general bust-up in the engine-room." So now I called to him down the voice-tube, begging him to speed her up as far as he dared; and a few minutes later I noticed that we were gaining upon the _Iwate_, our next ahead, while the _Asama_, our second astern, was also stoking up. Thereupon I signalled the flagship that we had speed in hand, if required, and the order was at once given to increase speed by half a knot. It was not very long afterward that we had ocular demonstration of the value that extra spurt of speed might prove to be; for while we were still plugging along in the direction of the firing, we suddenly sighted two craft coming slowly in our direction. They proved to be the _Kasagi_ escorted by the _Chitose_, making for the Japanese coast, the former being holed below the waterline and making so much water that it was doubtful whether it would be possible to save her. She signalled that matters were going badly with the protected cruisers, eleven of them being then hotly engaged by twelve of the enemy, one of which was a second-class battleship, while three others were battleships of the third class! Admiral Dewa, who was on board, concluded his communication by urging us to hasten to the rescue. The steadily increasing distinctness with which the sound of the firing reached us, proved that we were rapidly overhauling the contending squadrons, and some twenty minutes later we sighted the rearmost ships on both sides, blazing away at each other "hammer and tongs." Our own cruisers were to the southward of the Russian line, therefore Kamimura led his force to the northward of the enemy, thus placing the latter between two fires, at the same time signalling us to concentrate our fire upon the four Russian battleships, which we did with a vengeance, and within five minutes we were all enveloped in a roaring tempest of flame, smoke, and bursting shells. But the precision of our fire was infinitely superior to that of the Russians. They fired at least three times as rapidly as we did, but whereas every one of our shells reached its mark, the bulk of theirs flew wide. They were rapidly growing demoralised, and when the fight had been in progress some twenty minutes, their line suddenly broke up into little groups of twos and threes and made off to the northward at top speed, those of us whose speed permitted, following them and keeping up a brisk fire with our forward guns. Suddenly, as we pursued, two ships were sighted ahead, evidently in difficulties, and a few minutes later we identified them as the Russian battleship _Suvaroff_ and the repair ship _Kamschatka_. Immediately, Kamimura signalled, ordering their destruction. Then, while we were in the very act of training our guns upon them, another battleship was sighted in the distance. She, too, was evidently in a parlous state, so much so, indeed, that we scarcely had time to identify her as the _Alexander Third_ when she capsized and sank! Then we opened fire vigorously upon the other two ships, while our destroyers closed in upon the _Suvaroff_, now listing so heavily that she was almost on her beam-ends. But although she was in such a sorry plight her crew displayed the utmost gallantry, defending themselves from the torpedo craft with the only gun which they could bring to bear. It was a hopeless fight, however; our boats dashed in, time after time, discharging torpedoes at her, and at length two of the missiles got home, one under her stern, and the other in the wake of her engine-room, blowing a great hole in her side. This last finished her; the water poured into her in torrents, and a few minutes later she rolled right over and disappeared. The _Kamschatka_ followed a few minutes later. Meanwhile, the ships which we had been pursuing had disappeared in the fog, heading northward, _in which direction we knew our battleships had preceded them_. Therefore, since the hour had now arrived when, according to arrangements, our torpedo flotillas were to take up the game, Kamimura signalled us to reduce speed to ten knots and to shape a course for our appointed rendezvous near Matsushima Island. The night which followed was an anxious one for all hands, for we were steaming through a dark and foggy night, with all lights out. Nothing untoward happened, however, and with the appearance of dawn on the following morning a little air of wind sprang up and swept the fog away. It was shortly before three bells in the morning watch (half-past five o'clock a.m.) of 28th May, and the six ships of the Japanese armoured cruiser division were steaming northward in line abreast, when the _Tokiwa_, which was the easternmost ship, reported smoke low down on the eastern horizon. At once the course was altered eight points to the eastward, and the ships proceeded in line ahead, closing in upon the _Tokiwa_--the leading ship--as they did so, while Kamimura reported the circumstance by wireless to Togo, who, with his battle squadron, was some sixty miles away to the northward of us. Some twenty minutes later, after a lively bout of signalling by the wireless operators aboard the Japanese ships, it became certain that the smoke seen must proceed from enemy ships, and all our dispositions were made for dealing with them, the instructions of the armoured division being to close slowly in upon the enemy from the westward, while the battleships rushed down at full speed from the north, and the protected cruisers did the same from the south. The result was that, a few hours later, four Russian battleships, namely, the _Orel, Apraxin, Nicolai First_, and _Seniavin_ found themselves completely hemmed in by our ships, while the light cruiser _Izumrud_, availing herself of her superior speed, just managed to escape by the skin of her teeth. I will say this for them: outnumbered though they were, and hopeless as was their situation, with their ammunition running short, and their crews almost in a state of collapse from nerve strain, those four ships made a gallant defence, and it was not until they were reduced to the very last extremity that Admiral Nebogatoff ordered the white flag to be hoisted over his squadron in token of surrender. Prize crews were at once put aboard the prizes, and they were ordered south to Sasebo under an escort of cruisers, of which the _Yakumo_ was one. The _Orel_ was such a wreck that she was incapable of steaming more than eight knots, consequently we did not arrive in harbour until the afternoon of the following day, when, our wireless messages having prepared the inhabitants for our arrival, we received such an ovation as it thrills me yet to remember. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. REINSTATED. It was not until nearly a fortnight later that the full results of the battle of Tsushima became known; then, tabulating the intelligence that came to hand from various points, we were at last in a position to realise the surprising character of the Japanese Navy's achievement. Briefly and baldly summarised, it amounted to this: Of the eleven Russian battleships which went into action on that memorable 27th May, four were captured, while the remaining seven were sunk. Of nine cruisers, five were sunk. Of nine auxiliary cruisers, four were sunk and one was captured; while, of nine destroyers, one, the _Biedovy_, was captured with Admiral Rojdestvensky, seriously wounded, on board, and four were sunk. Twenty-six of the thirty-eight craft which composed the much-vaunted Baltic Fleet were thus accounted for. Of the remaining twelve, three--the small cruiser _Almaz_ and the _Grosny_ and _Bravy_, destroyers, succeeded in making their way to Vladivostock, while the remainder escaped to Manilla, Shanghai, and Madagascar, where--with the exception of the auxiliary cruiser _Anadyr_, at Madagascar--they were duly disarmed and interned. I had fully made up my mind that with the destruction of the Russian Baltic Fleet the war must of necessity come to an end. But I was mistaken; no overtures of peace were made by Russia, and it was not to be expected that, after her signal triumphs on land and sea, Japan would jeopardise her prospects of securing a satisfactory settlement by being the first to open negotiations; therefore, in pursuance of their land campaign, it was decided to attack the Russians from the north by way of the great river Amur, which the Japanese had ascertained was navigable by light-draught vessels for at least a thousand miles during the late spring, when the thaw and the spring rains caused the river to run full. But in order to utilise the Amur it was imperatively necessary that Japan should have control of the island of Sakhalin; accordingly, on 24th June a fleet of warships, under Admirals Kataoka and Dewa, assembled at Yokohama, from whence a few days later they sailed, convoying a fleet of transports, aboard which were one of the newly raised army divisions, under the command of General Haraguchi. My ship, the _Yakumo_, was one of the warships detailed for this expedition, and naturally I went with her. Space does not permit of my giving the details of this expedition, which was not at all of an eventful character; suffice it to say that it attained its object, Sakhalin becoming ours on 31st July 1905. Meanwhile, however, after the result of the battle of Tsushima became known, President Roosevelt decided that the time had arrived when the friendly intervention of a perfectly disinterested Power, such as the United States of America, might be welcome to both belligerents; accordingly, on 8th June, he opened negotiations by dispatching an identical Note to the Emperor of Japan and the Tsar of Russia, offering his services as mediator. His offer was accepted by both; and on 9th August the plenipotentiaries of the two nations met at Portsmouth, in New Hampshire, U.S.A. The negotiations were of a protracted nature, and were several times in danger of falling through in consequence of the uncompromising attitude of Russia's representatives. Ultimately, however, thanks to President Roosevelt's masterly diplomacy and the conciliatory spirit of the Japanese, an agreement was arrived at, and the Treaty of Peace between Japan and Russia was signed on 5th September 1905. Of the terms of the treaty it is not necessary for me to speak here, since they in nowise affect the fortunes of the present historian. The conclusion of the treaty, however, of course put a stop to all hostilities on both sides; and the end of September found me and my ship back in Sasebo, where the latter, among other ships, was paid off. Previous to the paying-off, however, Togo had sent for me, and at the interview which followed, inquired most solicitously what were my plans for the future, at the same time assuring me that if I cared to remain in the service of Japan I might absolutely rely upon continuous employment and further promotion. I had, however, long before this quite made up my mind as to the course of action I would pursue upon the conclusion of the war; namely, to return to England and endeavour to secure my rehabilitation in the British naval service, and I explained this to him at length. When he had heard all that I had to say, he admitted that what I had decided upon was undoubtedly the right thing to do. Then, learning that I proposed to return home by way of San Francisco and New York, he dismissed me for the time being, only to inform me, two days later, that, learning I was about to resign my commission as Captain in the Japanese Navy, the Emperor had expressed a desire to see me prior to my departure from his dominions, in order that he might personally thank me for the services I had rendered to Japan. The interview took place four days later, in the Imperial Palace at Tokio, with most satisfactory results, so far as I was concerned; for His Majesty, after making the most flattering references to my services--full particulars of which he seemed to have at his fingers' ends--was graciously pleased to decorate me with the Star of the Grand Order of the Rising Sun, and to present me with a magnificent naval sword, the hilt of which and the mountings of the sheath being of solid gold, exquisitely worked. The afternoon of the first Sunday in December witnessed my arrival in the Mersey; and somewhat late the same night I found myself once more in London. I was, of course, anxious to see Uncle Bob and Aunt Betsy again without delay; but, being in London, I could not deny myself the pleasure of calling upon my friends the Gordons. In the first place I paid my respects to Sir Robert at his office. As it chanced, he was so overwhelmingly busy that he could only spare me a bare ten minutes of his time, just to welcome me home again and insist upon my dining with him and his wife that evening. I did so, and received such a welcome as went far to compensate me for many a lonely hour among the storms and fogs and bitter cold of the Japan and Yellow Seas. To my amazement, I then learned that my name had become tolerably familiar to such Britons as had been taking more than a merely superficial interest in the progress of the Russo-Japanese War, some kindly-disposed newspaper correspondent having kept the British public pretty well posted as to my doings. The result of this, I was informed, was that, in the event of my choosing to make application for restoration to my former position in the British Navy, the authorities would undoubtedly be willing to regard such application with considerable favour. This I soon afterwards found to be true; for although there were several formalities to go through, while the onus of proving my innocence of the charge which brought about my dismissal rested entirely upon me, I had no sooner done this than I received the intimation that the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, having given due consideration to my representations, had been pleased to reinstate me as Midshipman in the British Navy! It was not long, however, before I received my commission as Sub-Lieutenant; and now I am a full-blown Commander aboard a super-Dreadnought, eagerly looking forward to the dawn of a certain Day which, unless appearances are curiously deceptive, cannot be very far distant. 
45413	----	The North Pacific _A Story of the Russo-Japanese War_ _By_ Willis Boyd Allen Author of "Navy Blue" and "Cleared for Action" [Illustration] _New York_ E. P. Dutton & Company 31 West Twenty-third Street 1905 TO MY FRIEND COMMANDER WILLIAM H. H. SOUTHERLAND, U. S. N. THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED [Illustration: "MAN OVERBOARD!"] COPYRIGHT, 1905 BY E. P. DUTTON & CO. Published, September, 1905 The Knickerbocker Press, New York PREFACE. As in the preparation of _Navy Blue_ and _Cleared for Action_, the author has taken great pains to verify the main facts of the present story, so far as they are concerned with the incidents of the great struggle still in progress between the empires of the East and the West. He acknowledges most gratefully the assistance received from the office of the Secretary of the Navy, from ex-Secretary John D. Long, and from Commander W. H. H. Southerland, now commanding the U. S. Cruiser _Cleveland_, Commander Austin M. Knight, President of the Board on Naval Ordnance, and Chief Engineer Edward Farmer, retired. W. B. A. BOSTON, June, 1905. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. THE TRIAL OF THE "RETVIZAN" 1 II. MAN OVERBOARD! 16 III. SEALED ORDERS 29 IV. UNCLE SAM'S PACKING 43 V. OTO'S STRANGE VISIT 53 VI. A SCRAP IN MALTA 67 VII. O-HANA-SAN'S PARTY 84 VIII. A BATCH OF LETTERS 93 IX. AT THE CZAR'S COMMAND 102 X. THE FIRST BLOW 114 XI. IN THE MIKADO'S CAPITAL 125 XII. BETWEEN TWO FIRES 137 XIII. WYNNIE MAKES A BLUNDER 146 XIV. THE ATTACK OF THE "OCTOPUS" 156 XV. UNDER THE RED CROSS 165 XVI. THE LAST TRAIN FROM PORT ARTHUR 175 XVII. DICK SCUPP'S ADVENTURE 184 XVIII. OSHIMA GOES A-FISHING 202 XIX. AMONG THE CLOUDS 218 XX. THE DOGGER BANK AFFAIR 235 XXI. THE FALL OF PORT ARTHUR 248 XXII. ON BOARD THE "KUSHIRO" 260 XXIII. TRAPPED IN MANCHURIA 274 XXIV. THE LITTLE FATHER 286 XXV. LARKIN RETIRES FROM BUSINESS 297 XXVI. "THE DESTINY OF AN EMPIRE" 308 XXVII. ORDERED HOME 319 ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE "MAN OVERBOARD!" _Frontispiece_ 24 "OTO CLIMBED THE RAIL LIKE A MONKEY" 64 IN STRANGE WATERS 82 PICKED UP BY THE SEARCHLIGHT 119 THE SINKING OF THE "PETROPAVLOVSK" 164 THE END OF THE TRAITOR 231 ON THE DOGGER BANK 244 THE OSAKA BABIES 253 THE NORTH PACIFIC. CHAPTER I. THE TRIAL OF THE "RETVIZAN." It was a clear, cool afternoon in early September, 1901. In the country the tawny hillsides were warmed to gold by the glow of the autumn sun, while here and there a maple lifted its crimson torch as if the forest were kindling where the rays were the hottest. Brown, golden, and scarlet leaves floated slowly downward to the ground; flocks of dark-winged birds drifted across the sky or flitted silently through the shadows of the deep wood; the call of the harvester to his straining team sounded across the fields for a moment--then all was still again. But for the creak of a waggon, the distant bark of a dog, the fitful whisper and rustle of the wind in the boughs overhead, the whirring chatter of a squirrel, the world seemed lost in a day-dream of peace. Only a few miles away the air was rent by a clamour of discordant sound. Ponderous hammers beat upon plates of iron and brass; machinery rumbled and shrieked and hissed at its work; a thousand men, labouring as if for their lives, pulled, pushed, lifted, pounded, shouted orders, warnings, replies above the din that beat upon the ear like a blacksmith's blows upon an anvil. From the tall chimneys poured endless volumes of black smoke that were reflected in the blue waters of the river and mimicked by innumerable puffs of steam. The place was like a volcano in the first stages of eruption. A vast upheaval seemed imminent. Yet the countless toilers worked securely and swiftly, fashioning that dread floating citadel of modern warfare, the Battleship. On this same afternoon, at the outer gate of the Cramp Shipbuilding Works, two strangers applied for admission, presenting to the watchman a properly accredited pass. They were young men, under the average stature, dark-skinned, and almost notably quiet in appearance and manner. Although their dress was that of the American gentleman, a very slight accent in their speech, their jet-black hair, and a trifling obliquity in their eyes, would have at once betrayed their nationality to a careful observer. He would have known that they were of a people famous for their shrewdness, their gentle manners, their bravery, their quick perceptions, and their profound patience and tireless resolution in accomplishing their ends--the "Yankees of the Orient"--the Japanese. The watchman glanced at them carelessly, rather impressed by the visitors' immaculate attire--both wore silk hats and black coats of correct Broadway cut--and asked if they wanted an attendant to show them about the works. They said, "No, thank you. We shall remain but short time. We can find our ways"; and, bowing, passed into the yard. Their curiosity seemed very slight, as to the buildings and machinery. With light, quick steps they passed through one or two of the most important shops, then turned to the river-side, and halted beside the huge ship that was on the stocks, almost ready for launching. Here for the first time their whole expression became alert, their eyes keen and flashing. Nobody paid much attention to them as they passed along the walk, scrutinising, it would seem, every individual bolt and plate. "A couple o' Dagos!" remarked one workman to another, nodding over his shoulder as he carried his end of a heavy steel bar. At the gangway the visitors met their first obstacle. A man in undress uniform, with a full beard and stern countenance, waved them back. "No admittance to the deck," he said briefly. The two Japanese bowed blandly, and spoke a few words together in soft undertones and gutterals, as incomprehensible to a Western ear as the language of the Ojibways. Then they bowed again, smiled and said "Thank you, sir," and moved away. The Russian officer watched them sharply until they disappeared around the bows of the vessel, muttering to himself under his bushy moustache. Once out of sight the languor and mild indifference of the strangers vanished. They spoke swiftly, with excited, but graceful gestures. Then one of them pointed to the snowy curve of the battleship's prow, above their heads. There, gleaming in the sunset light, shone the word, in gold letters, [Cyrillic: RETVIZAN] "RETVIZAN," murmured the other; "RETVIZAN." Adding in his own language, "She will have her trial trip late in October, sailing from Boston. Then--we shall see!" "We shall see." "_Sayonara, Retvizan!_" said the first speaker with just a trace of mockery in his tone, as the two turned toward the gate. As they passed through, on their way out, they bowed and smiled to the gate-keeper. Once more they were suave, languid little gentlemen of fashion, travelling for pleasure. It was eight o'clock on the morning of October 21st when the last tug-load of "distinguished visitors" scrambled up the steep ladder to the deck of the _Retvizan_, which had lain all night in President's Roads, Boston Harbour, waiting for her trial trip. In five minutes more the battleship was under way, the smoke rolling from her three huge funnels as she forged ahead slowly, on her way to the open sea. It was an oddly composed crowd that gathered forward of the great turret from which projected two twelve-inch guns. The crew consisted of Russian "Jackies," in man-of-war rig; but the spectators were the invited guests of the builders from whose control the ship had not yet passed. There were lawyers, naval officers, engineers, and politicians, with one or two officials of the city and State government--all bound to have a good time, whether the _Retvizan_ should prove slow or fast. They buttoned their overcoats up around their throats--for the day was chilly, and the draught made by the vessel as she gathered speed was sharp--and in little knots, here and there, joked, laughed, and sang like boys on a lark. One young man was constantly moving about, alert and active, interested apparently in everything and everybody on board. Most of the Boston men seemed to know him, and exchanged jokes with him as he passed. "Hullo, Larkin, you here?" called out one. "Better go ashore while there's time--you'll be sea-sick when we get outside!" "I never yet was sick of seeing!" retorted the young man. "The _Bulletin_ must have a good story on to-day's trip." "Why didn't they send a reporter that knew his business?" jested another. "Don't _you_ say anything, Alderman, or I'll fix up an account of you that will make you turn pale when you read it to-morrow morning," said the jolly reporter; and off he went, followed by a chorus of laughter. Fred Larkin was one of the most valued reporters on the Boston _Daily Bulletin_. He had risen to his present position, from that of mere space writer, by sheer determination, pluck, and hard work, which characteristics, backed by fine character and a sunny good-humour, made him a favourite with both his superiors and his comrades on the staff. Three years before this sea-trip Fred had been sent to Cuba as war correspondent for the _Bulletin_, had performed one or two remarkable feats in journalism, had been captured by the Spaniards, and on the very day when he expected to be executed in Santiago as a spy had been exchanged and set free. Meanwhile on this same perilous journey inland, he had met a young Spanish girl named Isabella Cueva, who subsequently appealed to him for protection, and whom, a few months later, he married. They now had one bright little dark-haired boy, a year old, named Pedro. "He's a wonderful child," Larkin would assert. "Talks Spanish like a native, and cries in English!" Besides the company of invited guests on the _Retvizan_, the officers of the ship-building company, and the Russian crew, there were a number of supernumeraries--butlers, cooks, and stewards, of various nationalities. About a week before the ship was to sail from Philadelphia, two Japanese boys applied for a position on board as stewards. They were dressed neatly, after the custom of their race, but their spotless clothes were threadbare, and as they seemed needy and brought the best of references from Washington families, they were hired at once. It was true that they seemed unable to speak or to understand more than a few words of English, but their slight knowledge of the language appeared to be sufficient for their duties, and the Japanese are known to be the neatest, quickest, most efficient little waiters that can be procured. Many of them, as their employers knew, were engaged in this humble service on United States war-ships, where they gave complete satisfaction. As the great vessel swung out upon her course, the two boyish Japs appeared. They had come on board in Philadelphia, and were soon equipped for their work, with white aprons and dark suits. Having with some difficulty made the head steward understand when and for what they had been engaged, they had entered at once upon their duties. Nobody took much notice of the little fellows, as they glided silently to and fro, giving deft touches to the lunch table, or assisting a stout alderman to don his overcoat. Only once did they seem disconcerted. That was when a Russian under-officer, with bushy beard and moustache, put his head inside the cabin-door. One of the Japanese started so nervously that he nearly upset a water-carafe on the table. As he adjusted it, he spoke a few words in a low tone to his companion, and both remained with their backs to the door, although the Russian summoned them roughly. "Why didn't you go when he called?" demanded the head steward crossly, a minute later, when he had himself given the officer the glass of water he wanted. "No speak Russian. No un'erstan'," said the little Jap with a meek gesture. "Well, you might have known what he asked for," retorted his superior. "Look sharp now, and attend to your business. You ain't here for fun, you!" The steward addressed shot a quick glance at the other, but neither said a word, as they resumed their tasks. The _Retvizan_ moved proudly northward, throwing out a great wave on each side of her white prow and leaving a wake of tossing foam stretching far astern. The harbour islands were now dim in the distance and the shore of the mainland might have been that of Patagonia, for all the sign of human life it showed. Now, indeed, the vessel drew in, or, rather, the coastline veered eastward as if to intercept her in her swift course. The Magnolia shore came in sight, with its toy cottages and hotels, as deserted as autumn birds'-nests. Norman's Woe was left behind, backed by dark pine forests, and Gloucester, nestling in its snug harbour, peered out at the passing monster. Almost directly in front the lights of Thatcher's Island reared themselves, two priestly fingers raised in blessing over the toilers of the sea. Now the battleship began to quiver, as the increased throbbing of her engines, the monstrous fore-waves, and the volumes of black smoke rushing from her stacks told the excited passengers that she was settling down to her best pace for the crucial test of speed. A government tug was passed, and for ten miles the _Retvizan_ ploughed her way fiercely northward, never deviating a foot to right or left, crushing the waves into a boiling cauldron of seething foam, dashing the spray high into the sunshine, until the second stake-boat, off Cape Porpoise, was passed, and with a long sweep outward she turned, to retrace the ten-mile course more swiftly than ever. Fred Larkin pervaded, so to speak, the ship. Note-book in hand, he interviewed the officers, chaffed the Russian Jackies, darted in and out of the cabins, and ranged boldly through the hidden passages below. In process of time he reached the engine-room, smearing himself with oil on the way, from every steel rod he touched. No sooner had he entered the room than he was pounced upon by one of the three or four engineers, naval and civil, who were busily watching the work of the great, pulsing heart of the vessel. "Larkin! How are you, old fellow?" And his hands were grasped and wrung, over and over, regardless of oil. "Holmes! Well, I didn't guess _you_ were here! Shake again!" It was Lieutenant-Commander Holmes, Assistant Engineer, who, with several subordinate officers, two of them from the Academy, had been detached by the Navy Department to watch the trip of the _Retvizan_ and report upon it. They mingled freely with the Russian engineers, and compared notes with them as the trial progressed. Norman Holmes explained this to the young reporter, who was an old and tried friend. "Where is Rexdale stationed?" "He's doing shore duty in Washington just now. Between you and me, Fred, I think he'll be a lieutenant-commander before long, and may command one of the smaller vessels on this station--a despatch-boat or something of the kind. I only wish I could be assigned to the same ship! You know Dave and I were chums in the Academy." "I know. And the trifling circumstance of each marrying the other's sister hasn't tended to produce a coldness, I suppose! But isn't that an awfully quick promotion for Rexdale? The last I heard of him he was only a lieutenant." "Well, we've built so many new ships lately," said Holmes, with his eye on the steam gauge, "that it has been hard work to man them. Two or three classes have been graduated at the Academy two years ahead of time, and promotions have been rapid all along the line. The man that commanded the gunboat _Osprey_, for instance, is now on an armoured cruiser, taking the place of an officer who has been moved up to the battleship _Arizona_, and so on. Why, in the course of ten years or more I may be a commander--who knows?" he added, with a laugh. "I suppose you hear from 'Sandy' and--what did you fellows call Tickerson?" "'Girlie'? Oh, yes, I hear from them. Both are in the East somewhere. Sandy's last letter was from Guam. He's a lieutenant now, and so is Tickerson." "Well, I mustn't stay here, bothering you. There's a queer crowd on board--a mixed lot. Seen those little Japs?" "No. What are they here for?" "Oh, just waiters. But it's odd to see Japanese on a Russian man-of-war, considering that--hullo, here's one of them, now!" Sure enough, a small, white-aproned figure came daintily picking his way down into the jarring, clanging, oily engine-room. He seemed a bit troubled to find two of its occupants regarding him intently, as he stepped upon the iron floor. "Mist' Johnson no here?" he asked innocently, gazing around him. "Johnson? No, not that I know of," replied Holmes. "What's his position." "He--he from Boston," said the Jap, after a slight hesitation. "Look here," broke in Larkin, in his offhand way, "what's your name, young fellow?" The steward looked into the reporter's frank, kindly face, then answered, "Oto." "Oto," repeated Fred. "That's a nice easy name to pronounce, if it _is_ Japanese. Well, Oto, how about your chum--what's his name?" "Oshima. We from Japan." "So I suspected," laughed Fred. "Been over long?" The boy looked puzzled. "When did you leave home?" Oto shook his head. "Un'erstan' ver' leetle English," he said. "Well, run along and find Mr. Johnson, of Boston. Norman, good-bye. I'll look in on you again before the end of the trip. Where did Oto go?" The little Jap had melted away--whether upward or downward, no one could say, he had vanished so quickly. Larkin shook his head and made a few cabalistic curves and dots in his note-book, then reascended the stairs to the upper deck. Through a winding staircase in a hollow mast he made his way to one of the fighting-tops. Singularly enough the other Japanese waiter, Oshima, was there before him. As Fred emerged on the circular platform, the boy thrust a scrap of paper under the folds of his jacket and hurried down toward the deck. Again the reporter made a note in his book, and then gave a few moments to the magnificent view of the ship and the open sea through which it was cleaving its way. Directly before and below him lay the forward deck of the _Retvizan_, cleared almost as completely as if for action. Most of the visitors had withdrawn from the keen wind to the shelter of the cabin, where, doubtless, the question of luncheon was already exciting interest. Beneath the fighting-top was the bridge, where the highest officials on the ship were watching her progress. Just beyond was the forward turret, with its projecting guns, their muzzles peacefully closed. The vessel now reached the first stake-boat once more, and turning, again started over the course at half-speed, for the tedious process of standardising the screw; that is, determining how many revolutions went to a given rate of speed. The engineers were busy with their calculations. Larkin joined the hungry crowd in the cabin, giving a last look at the blue sea, the misty shore line, and the dim bulk of Agamenticus reared against the western sky. When the _Retvizan_ passed Cape Ann, on her homeward trip, the great lamps on Thatcher's Island were alight, and the waves sparkled in the glow. It was nearly nine o'clock that evening when the chains rattled through the hawse-holes, in the lower harbour, as the battleship came to anchor. Many had been the guesses as to her speed. Had she come up to her builders' expectations? Had she passed the test successfully? These were the questions that flew to and fro among the passengers, crowding about the gangway beneath which the tug was soon rising and falling. At the last moment the approximate result of the engineers' calculations was given out. The ship had responded nobly to the demand upon her mighty machinery. Splendidly built throughout, perfectly equipped for manslaughter and for the protection of her crew, obedient to the lightest touch of the master-hand that should guide her over the seas in warfare or in peace, the _Retvizan_ had shown herself to be one of the swiftest and most powerful war-ships in the world. For twenty miles, in the open ocean, she had easily made a little over eighteen knots an hour. In the confusion of going on board the tug and disembarking in the darkness, no one observed the two Japanese waiters, who must have forgotten even to ask for their wages. Certain it is that Oto and Oshima were among the very first to land on the Boston wharf, and to disappear in one of the gloomy cross-streets that branch off from Atlantic Avenue. CHAPTER II. "MAN OVERBOARD!" "Well, we're out of the harbour safely, Captain," said Executive Officer Staples with a sigh of relief, as he spread out the chart of the Massachusetts coast and glanced at the "tell-tale" compass. "No more trouble till we get down by the Pollock Rip Shoals." "Anybody would think you had been taking a battleship out from under the enemy's guns," laughed Lieutenant-Commander David Rexdale. "Don't talk about 'trouble,' Tel., while it's daylight, off a home port, in good weather!" The two were standing in the chart-room, just behind the bridge of the U. S. gunboat _Osprey_, as the vessel, leaving Boston Outer Light behind, headed slightly to the south of east. Rexdale, as his old chum Holmes had predicted, was now in command of the _Osprey_, and was taking her to Washington for a practice trip, on which the crew would be drilled in various manoeuvres, including target-practice. Lieutenant Richard Staples, his executive, had been the captain's classmate at Annapolis. He was lanky and tall, and at the Academy had soon gained the sobriquet of "Telegraph Pole," or "Tel.," for short; a name that had stuck to him thus far in his naval career. He was a Californian, and, while very quiet in his manner, was a dangerous man when aroused--as the upper-class cadets had discovered when they undertook to "run" him. Rexdale was from the rural districts of New Hampshire, and was known to his classmates as "Farmer," a term which was now seldom applied to the dignified lieutenant-commander. The _Osprey_--to complete our introductions--was a lively little member of Uncle Sam's navy, mounting several six-pounders and a four-inch rifled gun, besides smaller pieces for close quarters. She had taken part in the blockade of Santiago, and while not as modern in her appointments as some of her bigger and younger sister-ships, had given a good account of herself in the stirring days when Cervera's fleet was cooped up behind the Cuban hills, and made their final hopeless dash for freedom. Rexdale was in love with his little vessel, and knew every spar, gun, plate, and bolt as if he had assisted in her building. On the way down the harbour, they had passed the _Essex_ and _Lancaster_, saluting each with a bugle-call. Besides the two officers mentioned, it should be added that there were on board Ensigns Dobson and Liddon, the former a good-natured little fellow, barely tall enough to meet naval requirement as to height; the other a finely educated and elegant young gentleman who had attended a medical college before enlisting, and whose fund of scientific and historical knowledge was supposed to be inexhaustible. He wore glasses, and had at once been dubbed "Doctor," on entering the Naval Academy. These, with Paymaster Ross, Assistant Surgeon Cutler, and Engineer Claflin, made up the officers' mess of the _Osprey_. It was a fair day in June, 1903. The sunlight sparkled on the summer sea. Officers and men were in the best of spirits as the gunboat, her red, white, and blue "commission pennant" streaming from her masthead, sped southward past the long, ragged "toe" of the Massachusetts boot. At noon Rexdale dined in solemn and solitary state in his after cabin. The rest of the officers messed together in the ward-room, below decks, and doubtless Dave would have been glad to join them; but discipline required that the commanding officer, however familiarly he might address an old acquaintance in private, should hold aloof at mealtimes. He was waited upon by two small Japanese men, or boys, who had easily obtained the situation when the vessel went into commission at the Charlestown Navy Yard, where she had remained for some months, docked for overhauling and thorough repairs. The two cabin stewards were gentle and pleasant in their manners, conversant with all their duties, and spoke English fluently. Their names were on the ship's papers as Oto and Oshima. "Oto," said Rexdale, when the dinner was finished, "call the orderly." "Yes, sir." The marine was pacing the deck outside the cabin-door. On receiving the summons he entered and saluted stiffly. "Orderly, ask Mr. Staples to step this way, if he has finished his dinner." Another salute, and the man turned on his heels and marched out. "Mr. Staples," said the commander, as the former came in, "at four bells we will have 'man overboard' drill. We shall anchor to-night about ten miles off Nantucket. I shall come on the bridge and con the ship myself when we sight the Shovelful Lightship, and I shall be glad to have you with me, passing the Shoal. The next time we go over this course I shall let you take the ship through the passage yourself." "Very well, sir." And the executive, being in sight of the waiters and the orderly, as well as the surgeon, who just then passed through the cabin, saluted formally and retired. On deck, forward and in the waist of the ship, the men were busy at various tasks, burnishing brass-work, making fast the lashings of the guns, overhauling rigging and such naval apparatus as the warrant officers knew would be needed on this short cruise. But few of the crew--over a hundred in all--were below, although only the watch were actually on duty. In passing one of the seamen, who was polishing the rail, Oshima, on his way to the galley, accidentally hit the man with his elbow. "Clear out, will you?" said the seaman with an oath. At the same time he gave the little Jap a shove that sent him reeling. "Oh, take a fellow of your size, Sam!" cried one of the watch standing near. "He ran into me! I'll take him and you, too, if you say much," retorted the first speaker morosely. Two or three of the men paused on hearing the angry words. The little stewards were favourites on board, although the enlisted men looked down on their calling. Oshima's dark eyes had flashed at the rough push and the sneering reply of the sailor. He brushed his neat jacket where the former's hand had touched it. Then he said quietly, "You can strike, Sam Bolles, as an ass can kick. But you could not throw me to the deck." "Couldn't I?" snarled Sam, dropping his handful of oily waste and springing to his feet. "We'll see about that, you ----!" and he called him an ugly name. Glancing about to see that no officer was watching, Oshima crouched low, and awaited the burly seaman's onset. Sam rushed at him with outstretched hands and tried to seize him around the waist, to dash his slight antagonist to the deck. Had he succeeded, Oshima's usefulness to the United States Navy would have ended then and there. A dozen men gathered about the pair, and more than one uttered a warning cry to the Japanese. They need not have been alarmed, however, for the safety of their small comrade. Just as Sam's burly paws closed on his shoulders, Oshima's dark, thin little hands shot out. He caught the seaman's right arm, gave a lightning-like twist, and with a cry of pain and rage the big fellow went down in a heap on the deck. As the men applauded wildly and swung their caps, the Jap looked a moment at his fallen foe with a smile of contempt, then turned away, for the master-at-arms, hearing the noise of the scuffle, was approaching. Sam, however, was wild with rage. Scrambling to his feet, he darted upon his late antagonist, caught up the small figure in his powerful arms, and before anybody could interfere, tossed him over the rail into the sea. Lieut. Commander Rexdale, pacing the quarter-deck and congratulating himself on the fine run the _Osprey_ was making, was suddenly aroused from his professional meditations by the sound of cries from the forward part of the ship. Annoyed by this breach of discipline, he called sharply to one of the ensigns, who was standing near, watching a distant steamer through his glass, "Mr. Dobson, step forward, please, and find out what that disturbance is among the men----" But before Dobson could reach the head of the ladder another confusion of shouts arose, followed immediately by a rush of footsteps. At the same time the commander felt the tremor of the screw's motion die away, under his feet. "Man overboard?" exclaimed Rexdale, with a vexed frown. "I gave orders for the drill at four bells, and three bells were struck only a few minutes ago. Where is Mr. Staples?" The executive officer was at that moment seen hurrying aft, but the Jackies were before him. They tumbled up the steps like mad, and flung themselves into the starboard quarter-boat, which had been left swinging outside from the davits for the purposes of drill. Already the man on watch at the taffrail had cut away the lashings of a patent life-preserver and sent it into the sea, where it floated with signals erect, far astern. The propeller was lashing the water into foam with its reversed motion. The _Osprey_ shook as she tried to overcome her momentum; then, as the screw was stopped, forged slowly ahead. "Lively, now, men! Let go! Fend off!" shouted Dobson, whose station was in that boat at the "man overboard" signal. "Oars! Let fall! Give way!" And off went the boat, plunging and foaming over the waves in the direction of the life-preserver, which was now a quarter of a mile astern. "Very well done, Mr. Staples," said Rexdale approvingly. "But why," he added in a lower tone, "did you have the drill at this hour, instead of at four bells, as I ordered?" "Drill? This is no drill, sir!" "No drill?" "There _is_ a man overboard, sir. One of the Japanese waiters fell over the rail somehow. I gave no orders for the drill, but that bugler is a quick fellow and knows his business. The men like the little Jap, and it put a heart into their work." When Oshima struck the water his early training (which will be referred to before long) stood him in good stead. He rose to the surface and gave a few quick strokes to ensure safety from the propeller; then he turned on his back and tried to float. There was too much ripple on the water for this, and he was obliged to turn back upon his chest and maintain his position with as little exertion as possible, not struggling to reach the ship, which was drawing rapidly away. He had seen the "man overboard" drill many times, and was on the lookout for the life-preserver, which was thrown just as he turned for the second time. His clothes dragged downward heavily, but in three minutes he reached the buoy and clung to it, knowing that by this time the men were in the boat and casting off. It was perhaps ten minutes from the moment of his falling into the sea when the white boat drew up alongside and pulled both him and the life-preserver out of the water. Five minutes later--the ship having reversed her screw again, and backed toward the boat--he was scrambling over on to the deck and making for the little cabin he shared with Oto. On the ship's log it was simply recorded that the boy had "fallen overboard." Oshima was sharply questioned by the officers, but he could not be induced to tell how the accident happened. Sam knew there were no talebearers among his mates and felt safe. He made a surly apology to the little chap, saying he was mad at having been thrown, and that he had not meant to drown him. Oshima thereupon bowed in a dignified way and went about his work, serving the commander in his cabin that night as usual. Passing the Handkerchief Lightship, the _Osprey_ dropped anchor with the lights of Nantucket twinkling far on her beam to the south and west. The next morning preparations were made for target-practice. The target, towed out and anchored by a whaleboat, consisted of a triangular raft of boards supported at each corner by an empty barrel. On this was stepped a mast twelve feet high, with a small red flag at the top. Three leg-of-mutton sails, or "wings," gave the craft the appearance, at a distance, of a small catboat under sail. The _Osprey_ now took her position--the distance and course being plotted by officers in two boats--and steamed at half-speed past the target at a distance of about sixteen hundred yards. The gun-crews were summoned to quarters, and the firing begun with a six-pounder on the forecastle, followed by two three-pounders on the same deck. The big four-inch gun was then loaded, the officers putting cotton in their ears to avoid injury. The first shot, weighing between thirty and forty pounds, was dropped a little to the right of the target; the second fell just beyond it and to the left. "Fire on the top of the roll," cautioned the captain of the gun-crew, which comprised four of the best gunners on the ship. The third shot fell short, and was duly so recorded, in a memorandum to be included in a report to the Department. As the disappointed gunner stepped back he saw Oto, who, being a sort of privileged character, was lingering close by, shake his head slightly. "Perhaps you think you could do better, Jap!" said the man sharply. Oto nodded, but remained modestly silent. "What, did you ever fire a heavy piece of ordnance?" asked Liddon, standing near to watch the practice. Oto nodded again. "I could hit that target," he added simply, touching his cap and turning away. "Stop," said the officer. He stepped toward the bridge, and, saluting, said: "The Japanese yonder says he is used to firing and could hit the target, sir. Shall I let him try?" Rexdale, who was closely noting the practice, hesitated, it being the strict rule that no one outside the gun-crew should fire. He spoke in a low tone to Staples, who laughed and said: "All right, sir. It's only one shot wasted, in any case." "Let the boy sight the piece, and fire," ordered the commander. Oto touched his cap and adjusted the sighting apparatus to his shoulder. His small hands fluttered a moment around the delicate machinery; then he swung the great muzzle slightly upward and to the right. The ship rose on a long swell, and just as it hung on the crest came the roar of the great gun. An instant's pause was followed by a cheer from the men; for as the smoke drifted away, behold, there was no target to be seen! "He must have struck the base of the mast, true as a hair!" exclaimed Rexdale, scanning the wreck of the target through his glass. "Well done, Oto!" The men crowded around the little fellow, clapping him on the back. "Just his luck!" growled Sam, who was one of the gun-crew. "Oh, let up, Sam! The boy has made a first-class shot," said a grizzled old gunner. "Wait till you have such luck yourself!" "You will send a boat out to pick up what is left of the target," ordered Rexdale, returning his glasses to their case. "We've no more time for practice to-day. Get all your boats in and proceed, if you please, Mr. Staples." That night he sent for the executive and had a long talk with him. There was something queer about those two Japanese boys, Rexdale said. Did Staples or any of the officers know anything about them? Inquiries were made, and the waiters themselves were closely questioned, but no information of importance could be gained. It was learned, indeed, that one of the ordinary seamen, Dick Scupp by name, was more "chummy" with Oto and Oshima than any one else on board. He was a simple, long-legged, awkward young fellow from northern Maine, who had enlisted at the outbreak of the Spanish War, and had served before Santiago, in the blockading squadron. He had taken a fancy to Oshima, particularly, and it was he who had rebuked Sam's rough treatment of his Japanese friend, just before the wrestling-match. He knew nothing, however, of the previous lives of the two little foreigners. Rexdale would hardly have been surprised at Oto's skill in gunnery had he known that this meek and gentle Japanese lad had passed through the whole course at the Naval Academy at Annapolis, graduating--under his full name, Makoto Owari--in the first third of his class, just seven years before Dave received his own commission! CHAPTER III. SEALED ORDERS. The rest of the cruise of the _Osprey_ was without special incident. Various drills were performed until every movement was executed to the officers' satisfaction. One of the most interesting was the "fire drill." A succession of loud, hurried strokes on the ship's bell brought the men hurrying up from below. Some ran to the hose, uncoiled it and coupled it to the pipes, others closed ports and ventilators, boat crews repaired to their stations, and in an almost incredibly short time water was gushing from the nozzle of the hose into the sea. Then there was "Boats and away!" the life-raft drill, signalling, and other manoeuvres. Attention was paid to the slightest details, which were executed with the wonderful precision that characterises every naval movement. If the emergency should really arise, in the midst of a storm or under the enemy's fire, every man would know his station and the exact duties he was to perform. "Collision drill" and "setting up" finished the work in that line for the day. During the afternoon land was near on both sides of the vessel, as she pursued her course to the north-west between Martha's Vineyard and the mainland. Nobska Head and, three hours later, Gay Head, were sighted and passed. Then the _Osprey_ stood directly for Cape Charles. Just at sunset a heavy fog shut down. "Three-quarters speed!" ordered Ensign Liddon, who was on the bridge. "Three-quarters speed, sir," responded the quartermaster, throwing the indicators, which connected with the engine-room, around to that point. At about twelve knots an hour, or fifty-five revolutions of the screw to a minute, the ship crept steadily southward, with her whistle going twice a minute. At ten o'clock full speed was resumed, for the stars were out again. The next day was fair, and the sun shone brightly on the broad ocean, on the white ship, and on the great steel gun which bore the inscription "Bethlehem"--the place where it was cast. "After all, it's a good peacemaker," said Lieutenant Staples, as he made his inspection tour, accompanied by Dr. Cutler. "There's thirty-six hundred pounds of peace," he added, patting the breech of the gun. On the deck, near by, a kitten was tumbling about in the sunshine. The men were engaged in mending, writing letters, and smoking idly. At about noon the lightship off Cape May was left behind, and the _Osprey_ started up Chesapeake Bay. When she had proceeded to a point sixteen miles below the mouth of the Potomac, she brought up for the night, a light fog rendering navigation difficult in those crowded waters. Early the next morning the gunboat weighed anchor and got under way. Just as she was turning into the Potomac she sighted the battleship _Indiana_ outward bound with midshipmen on board in large numbers. Staples immediately gave an order, and a string of gay flags fluttered at the yard-arm above the _Osprey's_ decks. The signal was answered by the battleship, and the executive reported to Rexdale, "Permission to proceed, sir." When two ships of the navy meet, this permission must always be obtained from the one commanding officer who ranks the other. Up the broad, placid river the _Osprey_ moved, seeming to gain in size as the stream diminished; past wooded banks where cabins nestled in the greenery, or statelier homes lifted their white pillars; past the little cove where Booth, the assassin of President Lincoln, landed after crossing the Potomac in his mad flight; on toward Washington. At the Proving Ground a boat was sent ashore with a telephone message to Alexandria, ordering a tug-boat to meet the war-ship for two or three miles' tow to her dock. When the _Osprey_ was opposite Mount Vernon, a mournful strain from the bugle floated over the water from the ship's forward deck. The ensign was half-masted, every man on board faced the shore and stood at salute, while the bell tolled slowly until the sacred spot, the home of the great American, was passed. Not long afterward the tug appeared, made fast to the gunboat, and towed her to the navy-yard wharf, where she was to await orders for further movements. During the week that followed, two events took place which were destined to exert an important influence upon the subsequent history of the _Osprey_. The first was the appearance of a new member of the mess, Midshipman Robert Starr. He was a cheery, good-natured young fellow, finishing his Academy course; full of fun, and a great joker. While the original ward-room mess were at first disposed to regret, if not to resent, this addition to their family, they soon liked him thoroughly, and, indeed, he became popular from one end of the ship to the other. The other event of importance was a dinner given by Lieut. Commander Rexdale on board his ship. Among those who received invitations were the Commandant of the Yard, with his wife and daughter; one or two officers from a torpedo-destroyer then docked and out of commission; Fred Larkin, who happened to be in Washington; and two young girls, nieces of a Government official of high standing, Ethelwyn and Edith Black, aged respectively sixteen and nineteen. These fair young Anglo-Saxons were the guests of the commandant, and on finding that they were included in the invitation expressed their delight by seizing upon his daughter Mary and executing a sort of triple waltz around the room for fully five minutes. "You see, dear," panted the younger Miss Black, adjusting an amber pin which had fallen from her sunny hair to the floor, "we've never been on a war-ship and haven't the least idea what it's like. Isn't that Captain Rexdale a dear!" "There, there, Wynnie, do sit down and keep still for two minutes," laughed her quieter hostess. "You've just about shaken me to bits. Yes, Lieut. Commander Rexdale is nice, and so are the rest of the officers of the _Osprey_. You'll like Mr. Liddon, I know." "And will your mother go?" "Of course she will. How could we accept, if she were not to take care of us?" "I don't need anybody to take care of _me_," remarked Wynnie demurely. "You'll see how nicely I'll behave--like the kittens in the poem-- "'Spoons in right paw, cups in left, It was a pretty sight!'" "You witch!" said Mary, giving her a squeeze. "I've seen you 'behave nicely' before now! Mother will have her hands full, for once." "Who are the other officers?" asked Edith, from the sofa. "Oh, there's Ensign Dobson--he isn't very lively, but he's nice; Dr. Cutler, who _will_ talk with papa all the time about quarantine regulations and the Red Cross; and Mr. Ross, the paymaster, I suppose. Oh, and I believe there's a little midshipman from the Naval Academy--I don't know his name, for he has just been assigned to the ship." Wynnie's eyes danced. "He'll be dreadfully bashful, I know. I shall consider it my duty to entertain him, poor little thing!" The dinner proved a great success. Larkin, of course, kept his end of the table in a shout, while young Starr was by no means too bashful to appreciate Ethelwyn's fun. "Doc." Liddon talked politics with the civilian reporter, navy-yard gossip with Mrs. Commandant, international complications with her husband, and nonsense, flavoured with dry wit, with Edith. Dobson told the story of his rescue from the hazing party at the Academy, and brought down the house as he described his position when Norman Holmes and Dave Rexdale came on the scene--standing on his head, with his tormentors pouring cold water down his trousers-leg. Then Dave himself was called on for the tale of his boat-wreck on the lonely Desertas, near Madeira, when he and "Sandy" barely escaped with their lives. The cabin of the _Osprey_ was prettily decorated with ferns and flowers, and there was little to suggest warfare, the roar of cannon, the cries of the fierce combatants, in its dainty appointments. It fell about, however, that, as was natural, the conversation at length turned to the navies of the great nations, and, in comparison, that of the United States. "Where do we stand, among the other Powers--in point of naval strength, I mean?" asked some one. The commandant had excused himself on the plea of important duty, and had returned to his office on the Yard. Oddly enough, it was the civilian that answered the question, before any one else could recall the figures. "We are fifth in rank," said Larkin, helping himself to a banana. "If we carry out our present rather indefinite plans we shall be, by 1908, the third in strength, possibly the second, with only England ahead of us." "Do you happen to remember the approximate number of large ships in the English navy?" asked Dobson. "I'm sorry to say I do not," replied the reporter. "I do," put in Ensign Liddon, who had had time to collect his thoughts and statistics. "England has two hundred and one, not counting gunboats, torpedo-boats, and other small craft----" "Small! Do you call this ship small?" cried Ethelwyn indignantly. "She'd look like a kitten beside her mother if a first-class battleship ranged alongside," laughed Liddon. "Well, I was about to add that France has ninety-six big ships, Russia fifty-nine, and Germany seventy-three. The United States has only sixty-five." "How many has Japan?" inquired Rexdale significantly. Just behind his shoulder a pair of dark, obliquely-set eyes flashed at the question. "Forty-four, I believe. She would have a poor show at sea against Russia's fifty-nine." "Oshima, there, doesn't seem to agree with you," said Dr. Cutler lightly, nodding in the direction of the steward. All eyes were turned to the little Japanese, who drew back modestly. "Well, boy, speak your mind for once," said Rexdale. "What do you think about the chances of Nippon against the Russian Bear?" "I was t'inking," said Oshima, whose English was not quite as perfect as his comrade's, "of man behind gun." The phrase was already a favourite in the navy, and a round of hearty applause followed the diminutive waiter as he retired in some confusion. "Let's go on deck," suggested Starr. "It's getting pretty hot down here." The commander set the example by rising, and the whole party adjourned to the quarter-deck, where chairs had been placed for them. The gentlemen lit their cigars, "not (Starr gravely remarked) because they wanted to, but purely to keep the mosquitoes away from the ladies." Overhead the June stars were shining, lights flashed across the river, and distant shouts came softly over the water. The young people sprang to their feet and declared they must walk a bit. What they talked about as they paced to and fro--Bob Starr with Wynnie, Liddon with Edith, and Dobson with Mary--is of no consequence. It is probable that the two sisters explained to their respective escorts that in the early fall they expected to travel to India, China, and Japan, going via San Francisco, and returning through Europe. Whereupon it is more than likely that the young gentlemen in white duck expressed themselves as plunged in despair at the prospect of having to remain on the North Atlantic Station, with even a vague and disgusting possibility of "shore duty" for one or both! Meanwhile the older members of the party renewed the conversation which had been broken off when the girls rose from table. "If we are to keep up with foreign Powers," said Dr. Cutler, striking his hand upon his knee, "much more if we are to pass any of them in naval rank, we must hurry up our ship-builders. Germany expects her battleship in commission in three years and a half from the day when the keel is down. We have one under construction now that was begun over five years ago." "What does a modern battleship cost?" asked the older lady, who was one of the quarter-deck group. "About eight million dollars," replied Rexdale. "And a right lively war costs the country a million dollars a day, in round numbers." "And all of it absolutely consumed, burnt up, eaten, thrown away," added the doctor. "It is not like expenses for construction; it is all for destruction." "My idea of a good-sized navy's mission is to keep the peace, so that there'll be no war," put in Staples, who had been rather silent thus far. "Staples was the only man in our Plebe class who actually fought a battle with a second-year man," laughed Dave. "I like to hear him preach peace!" "Perhaps you remember," said the other grimly, "that no more fights were necessary. One good upper-cut on that fellow's jaw won peace for the whole crowd. If Dewey hadn't sunk the Spanish fleet at Manila we might have been fighting the Dons to this day." "Will the Japs fight Russia, do you think?" asked Larkin. "If they do, that may mean a job for 'yours truly.'" "Certainly it looks like trouble over there," said Rexdale soberly. "The Russians are steadily advancing to the Pacific--already they have one hand on Vladivostock and the other on Port Arthur. Japan, crowded in its little group of islands just out of sight of Korea, feels the danger and the menace. Both nations have been preparing for a big war for years, I am told." "But Russia enormously outnumbers the Japanese," said Dr. Cutler. "She has an army, they say, of four and a half million men, against Japan's six hundred thousand----" "Aye, but where are those four millions?" put in Rexdale warmly. "Separated from the fighting line, which we can call Korea and the coast of Manchuria, by six thousand miles, with only a single-track railroad between Moscow and Port Arthur. The Japs could handle them one at a time like the Spartans at--at--where was it?" "Thermopylæ, sir," remarked Doc. Liddon, who had paused a moment in his walk, attracted by the commander's earnestness. "Thanks--Greek history never was my strong point at school!" said Dave with a good-humoured laugh. Then, resuming: "As to the Russian navy, matters would be just as bad. Half her ships at least must be in the Baltic to protect her home ports----" Before he could proceed further, an interruption occurred. An orderly mounted the steps to the quarter-deck and with the usual stiff salute handed Rexdale a letter, marked "Important and Immediate." The commander broke open the envelope. He had no sooner read the few lines it contained than he sprang to his feet. "Madam," he said abruptly but courteously, "and gentlemen, I am sorry to bring our pleasant party to an end, but my orders leave me no choice. Mr. Staples, I must see you and the rest of the officers at once in my cabin. Orderly, attend the ladies through the Yard. Good-night, all!" Hurriedly the girls ran below for their wraps, wondering what the mysterious orders could be that compelled them to retire so early and brought that new ring to the commander's tones. They bade good-night to the young officers, who would fain have escorted them to their home, but Rexdale was obliged to refuse his permission. "Good-night! good-night! We shall see you again soon!" called the girlish voices from the wharf, while their late companions swung their hats gallantly on the deck of the _Osprey_. "Gentlemen," said Rexdale in grave, earnest tones, when they were all gathered once more in the cabin, "I have important news for you. We are ordered to coal and take on stores and ammunition for sea without delay, sailing one week from to-day, if possible. You will see that this is done promptly, and that every man reports for duty to-morrow, all shore leave being withdrawn." Not a man there but longed to ask, "What is our port of destination?" but discipline prevailed. Their lips remained closed. They were no longer a party of young fellows chatting and laughing gaily as they performed their pleasant social duties and joked with their merry guests; they were officers in the United States Navy, ready for the duty at hand; willing to go to the ends of the earth, to encounter danger in its most appalling forms, to give their lives, if need be, for their country. Silence settled for a moment over the group. "If I could I would tell you, without reserve, where we are bound; but I do not know myself," added Rexdale. "There are new complications in the far East--that is all I know. We sail under sealed orders, to be opened at sea, twenty-four hours out." He rose from his chair, to signify that the interview was ended. As the officers filed out to their respective quarters, the pantry door, which, though no one noticed it, had been slightly ajar, closed noiselessly. Behind it were two Japanese, grasping each other's hands and looking into each other's eyes. Their breath came quickly; their eyes glowed. "_Banzai!_" they whispered. "_Teikoku banzai!_ Long live the Empire!" CHAPTER IV. UNCLE SAM'S PACKING. When the family of a citizen in private life makes up its mind to a long journey to foreign shores, great is the confusion, and multitudinous the errands and minor purchases for the trip; trunks, half-packed, block the sitting-room and hall-ways; Polly flies up-stairs and down distractedly, Molly spends hours uncounted (but not uncharged-for) at the dressmaker's, Dick burns midnight oil over guide-books and itineraries, and even paterfamilias feels the restlessness and turmoil of the times, and declaims against extravagance as the final packing discloses the calls that are to be made upon his bank account. If a vacation trip for a single family is productive of such a month of busy preparation, what must be the commotion on a war-ship starting for the Far East, with a crew of one or two hundred men and only a week allowed for packing! The officers and enlisted men of the _Osprey_ had their hands full in the days that followed the banquet. In ordinary times it takes one hundred skilled men a full week to stow away provisions, supplies, ammunition, coal, and the thousand and one minor articles that are needed on board one of the larger war-ships. The ship's crew lend a hand, but they operate only under the direction of the staff of trained stevedores which is kept on duty at the Navy Yard. Everything must be put away "snug and shipshape"; and goods are "stowed snug" where they occupy the least possible space, for every inch counts in the narrow limits of a ship. Then, too, they must be so stevedored that they will keep their original positions during the rolling and pitching of the vessel in a seaway. More than this is required. There must be perfect order with the greatest degree of safety attainable. Inflammable or explosive substances must not be stowed together, and the arrangement must be such that any article needed can be reached on the instant. Emergencies often arise in which the safety of the ship itself is dependent on having needed appliances or material in the hands of certain officers without a moment's delay. It may be nothing more than a case of oil, or it may be the duplicate of some broken rod, bolt, or plate of the delicate mechanism of the great propelling engine or of the dynamo, which is the very life centre of the modern war-ship. Paterfamilias, grumbling at the shopping memorandum of his wife and daughters on the eve of their Mediterranean vacation trip, would gasp at the list which Uncle Sam must fill, for a long cruise of one of his naval vessels. Here is a single order sent to one wholesale house on the _Osprey's_ account, that week in June: Loaf sugar, brown sugar, powdered sugar, fair molasses, Ceylon tea, Hyson tea, Java coffee, Rio coffee, smoked ham, American rice, breakfast bacon, lambs' tongues, pigs' feet, corned beef, corned pork, leaf lard, dried peas, dried beans, coffee extract, chiccory, chocolate, Swiss cheese, English cheese, New York dairy cheese, canned tomatoes, canned peaches, canned onions, canned asparagus, canned peas, canned corn, canned beets, olives and olive oil, sauces and catsups, oatmeal and flour, limes and lemons, fruit jellies, condensed meats, beef extracts, Jamaica ginger, mustard and spices, cigars and tobacco, corn-meal and hominy, sago and tapioca, crackers and biscuits, lime juice, fresh and limed eggs, baking powder, canned cherries, canned plums, canned pears, canned rhubarb, dried apples, canned salmon, canned oysters, canned clams, sardines, canned lobster, canned mackerel, canned codfish, kippered herring, Yarmouth bloaters, canned ox tongues, canned tripe, canned mutton, canned chicken, canned turkey, canned soups, condensed milk, canned pickles, vinegar, salt, pepper, canned mushrooms, macaroni, vermicelli, laundry soap, toilet soap, sapolio, starch and blue, insect powder, candles, safety matches, stationery, rope and twine, smoking pipes, tubs and washboards, chloride of lime, ammonia, alcohol and paints, shoe blacking, sewing machines. From this partial list an idea may be formed of the extent and variety of the supplies that go to a modern war-ship. The clothing, medical and mechanical departments of the _Osprey's_ outfit are not included, and each in itself would make a long roll. Of course the delicacies mentioned above are for the officers' use alone. When in port or on a short cruise the sailors get fresh meat, bread, fruit, vegetables and milk. On a long voyage their staple is "salt horse, hard tack, and boot-leg," which, being translated, is corned beef or pork, with crackers and black coffee. They receive frequently, too, oatmeal and rice, hot rolls and tea. It will be noted that the important items of ice and fresh water do not appear in the list of supplies. Neither is taken aboard from the outside. The ship condenses fresh water pumped in from the sea by ingenious machinery contrived for the purpose, and the supply is limitless. From this fresh water ice is manufactured in any quantity desired, and no properly appointed modern war-ship is now without its ice-plant. It is for the manufacture of ice that ammonia is so largely shipped. In the general disposition of the stores and supplies the articles likely to be needed for immediate use are usually stored forward under the berth deck. Such stores as cloth and made-up wearing apparel go in the lower hold, and there are also nearly all the magazines, guncotton, and torpedo-heads, if the ship carries them. The coal bunkers on the _Osprey_ were located between the engines and boilers and the hull of the vessel, at a point a little abaft of midship. Thus the coal afforded protection to the machinery from projectiles aimed at the most vital part of the ship. Such inflammable liquids as oil and alcohol are never stowed below. Allusion has been made to the "life centre" of the vessel. This has been well described as the throbbing heart of every war-ship in the navy; the wires radiating from it like veins and arteries through which flow the life and intelligence which direct the movements of ship and crew. Innumerable electric lamps light the cabins, engine-rooms, magazines, conning towers and decks, while a finger's pressure on a knob, or the turn of a tiny handle, throws a flood of radiance streaming out into the black night, disclosing the enemy and rendering futile his attack or escape as the case may be. Other wires operate telegraph, telephone, and signal from the bridge, or move compartment doors, massive guns, and, on a battle-ship the huge turrets themselves. With a ship elaborately wired one chance shot of the enemy may thus prove fatal. If a shell should happen to force its terrible way into the dynamo room and explode there, the guns would cease firing, every light would be extinguished, every officer cut off from rapid communication with his men; and the delay consequent on this derangement would give the enemy, quivering with light and life, time to pour her tons of steel projectiles into the helpless, groping victim until she foundered. At the end of the sixth day, the _Osprey_ was ready for sea. Her men, her stores, supplies, coal and ammunition were on board, well stowed. Rexdale drew a long breath of relief, and Paymaster Ross another, as the last account was filed that night. The commander wrote a long letter to his wife, Hallie, before retiring. She was visiting friends in the West, and he had no opportunity to see her before starting on what was doubtless to be a cruise to the other side of the world. This is a part of a naval officer's life. "Detached," from this place to that, from one ship, or one duty, to another, says the brief naval report. The officer receives his written orders, and if his heart aches a little, under his blue uniform, no one knows it but the one who receives the good-bye letter, hurriedly sent by the despatch-boat or the orderly; and he is ready for the new post. Paymaster Ross, meanwhile, is busy with half a hundred lists and receipts and accounts. He it is who knows accurately the pay of every man on board. Look over his shoulder and read in his "Register" of current date the salaries that our National Uncle pays to his nephews for naval services: -----------------------------+------------+----------- RANK. |ON SEA DUTY.| ON SHORE. -----------------------------+------------+----------- Admiral (George Dewey) | $13,500 | $13,500 Rear Admirals: | | First Nine | 7,500 | 6,375 Second Nine | 5,500 | 4,675 Chiefs of Bureaus | ...... | 5,500 Captains | 3,500 | 2,975 Commanders | 3,000 | 2,550 Lieutenant-Commanders | 2,500 | 2,125 Lieutenants | 1,800 | 1,530 Lieutenants, Junior Grade | 1,500 | 1,500 Ensigns | 1,400 | 1,190 -----------------------------+------------+----------- It is to be remembered that, in addition to the amounts given in this table, all the officers mentioned (below the grade of rear-admiral) are entitled by the present laws to "ten per cent. upon the full yearly pay of their grades for each and every period of five years' service, as increase for length of service, or 'longevity pay.'" Still, thirty-five hundred dollars, even with that additional "longevity pay," does not seem a very large salary for the commander of a battle-ship at sea and perhaps under fire from day to day! Warrant officers, namely boatswains, gunners, carpenters, sailmakers, pharmacists and warrant machinists are paid (for sea duty) from $1200 a year for the first three years after date of appointment, to $1800 after twelve years' service. Chief petty officers, including Chief Master-at-arms, Chief Boatswain's Mate, Chief Gunner's Mate, Chief Yeoman, Hospital Steward, Bandmaster, and a few others, draw pay ranging from $50 to $70 a month. The pay of first-class petty officers, of whom there are about twenty varieties, is from $36 to $65 a month; that of second-class petty officers a trifle less; and that of third-class petty officers $30 a month. First-class seamen receive $24, seamen gunners $26, and firemen $35. Second-class or "ordinary" seamen draw $19 a month, and third-class seamen, including apprentices and landsmen, have to be content with $16. Oto and Oshima, as regular cabin stewards, were paid $50 a month; and the wages for this sort of service on a war-ship run from that sum down to the pay of the mess attendants, which is the same as that of apprentice seamen. Just as Dave Rexdale finished his letter to Hallie the orderly entered and announced Fred Larkin, who had been unexpectedly detained in Washington. "I've been making inquiries, Dave," said the reporter, when the marine had retired, "and I can't see any reason for your sudden orders. A number of our ships are to rendezvous at Kiel next week, to take part in a naval review. It may be that you are bound to German waters. If so, give my respects to the Kaiser!" Rexdale shook his head. "I don't believe Kiel is our port of destination, Fred," he said. "There'd hardly be time for us to get over there before the end of the review, even if we made a regular '_Oregon_' voyage of it. I'm afraid it's a longer cruise than that. Who knows what is going on at St. Petersburg or in Tokio?" "Right you are," acquiesced Larkin. "I shouldn't be surprised to receive orders myself, any day, to start for Japan or Korea. Of course I should go by way of San Francisco. If there's to be any lively unpleasantness over there, the _Bulletin_ wants a front seat, sure!" "Well, I hope we shall meet there, old fellow," laughed the commander, "though the United States will of course have nothing to do with the scrap. Still, it's as well to have a few of Uncle Sam's war-ships on that station or near by--say at Cavite." "If war breaks out between Russia and Japan," said Larkin, rising, after a little more conversation of this sort, "the big European Powers may be involved any day, with China as an uncertain force just behind the scenes. You know France is bound to take a hand if two nations attack Russia, and England has the same agreement with Japan. China will do lots of mischief, if she doesn't play in her own back yard." At daylight the _Osprey_ cast off her moorings, and dropping down the quiet Potomac, started on her long voyage. CHAPTER V. OTO'S STRANGE VISIT. In N. Latitude 36° Longitude 72° W. from Greenwich, the commander of the _Osprey_ opened his sealed instructions, and, having glanced over the lines, read them aloud to his subordinate officers, as follows: "WASHINGTON, D. C. "_Sir_: "Having your coal-bunkers full, and being in all respects ready for sea, in accordance with previous directions, you will proceed with vessel under your command to the port of Hongkong, China, where you will report to the commander of the North Pacific Squadron. If his flagship should be at Manila, Shanghai, or any other port at the time of your arrival, you will follow him to that port without delay, and report as above. In view of the present critical state of affairs in the East, and the attitude of Russia and Japan, the _Osprey_ should proceed with all possible dispatch. The crew is to be constantly drilled, the passage of the ship not to be delayed thereby. You will follow the usual route by way of Gibraltar and the Suez Canal, and will call at Malta (Valetta) for further instructions. "Very respectfully, "---- ----, _Secretary_. "LIEUTENANT-COMMANDER DAVID REXDALE, "Commanding U. S. S. _Osprey_. "(Through Commandant, Navy Yard, Washington)." A half-suppressed cheer broke from the circle of blue-coated officers around the cabin table, as Rexdale concluded his reading. "There's nothing said about ammunition," observed Stapleton, significantly. "The Department knows that our magazines are well provided," said Rexdale. "I reported on all classes of ammunition just before we sailed from Boston." "Shall we have a chance to use it?--that's the question," put in the young midshipman. "Oh, I do hope there'll be a scrimmage!" "We're at peace with every nation on the globe," remarked Paymaster Ross with emphasis. "How can there be a fight? We've nothing to do with the quarrel between Japan and Russia." "I hope the little fellows will win out, if there's war coming," exclaimed Dr. Cutter heartily. "I'm always in favour of the under dog." "Who is the under dog? The Japs have the enormous advantage of a home base," said Stapleton. "I don't know enough of the situation to be sure which to sympathise with, big, sturdy Russia with all Asia between him and St. Petersburg, or snappy, shrewd little Nippon. Perhaps there won't be any war, after all." "I don't see that we are in it, anyway," said Rexdale, rising. "Probably all our ship will have to do will be to hang round on guard, and protect American interests----" "And be ready for squalls!" finished the irrepressible Starr, as the group filed out of the cabin, while the commander repaired to his stateroom to plot the course for Gibraltar. The fact that the _Osprey_ was bound for Pacific waters soon spread through the ship. Most of the jackies were delighted, and were enthusiastic over the prospect of a "scrap" with somebody, they did not much care whom. A heated discussion arose, forward, as to the merits of the two nations which were supposed to be preparing for war. In the midst of the excited talk a black-and-white kitten made her way into the group and gave a careless little lap with her rough tongue at a hand which was braced against the deck. The hand, a rough and knotty one, taking no notice of her attentions, she drew her sharp little claws playfully across it. This time the owner of the hand, who was no other than Sam Bolles, started so suddenly that he almost rolled over; then, vexed at the laughter which greeted him, he caught the kitten up savagely and swung his arm as if about to throw it overboard. Now Sneezer, the kitten, was a special pet of Dick Scupp. Dick gave a roar at seeing the danger of the animal, and flung himself bodily upon Sam, who went over backward in a heap, relinquishing the kitten (fortunately for her) as he did so. "Well, I never seed sech kids fer quarrelin'," said old Martin, the gunner, philosophically watching the two men as they rolled about the deck, scattering kits and boxes and bringing up against the shins of more than one of their comrades. "Come off, Sam, and let the youngster alone! Let go, will you (for Sam was pulling Dick's stringy locks with vigour)? Here comes Jimmy Legs. Let him up, Dick!" "Jimmy Legs," whose real name was Hiram Deering, was chief master-at-arms. The duties of his office, on a war-ship, are perhaps more multifarious than that of any man on board. He is an enlisted man, rated a chief petty officer, and wears the eagle rating-badge. Forward of the mainmast his word is law at any hour of the day or night. Aft, his word is taken by the commander, the executive, and by all other officers. The mettle in a chief master-at-arms, or "Jimmy Legs," as he is universally known among the men, is always thoroughly known aft before he is rated. He need not be a bully, but he must be a natural "master of the situation," and of men, in an emergency as well as in the routine of navy life. The Legs is privileged to take matters into his own hands, up forward, when occasion demands. If necessity arises for him to knock a man down, it is the business of Legs to know how to do it with science and despatch. The master-at-arms of an American war-ship is always a man who has seen many years of service in the navy, and passed through most of the inferior ratings of the enlisted men. He is a man whose blue-jacket experience has taught him every trick of the naval sailor, every phase of forecastle life. Hiram could neither be cajoled nor outwitted. He was stern with evil-doers, but was the most popular man forward, in the _Osprey_. At dawn Jimmy Legs's duties begin, when the men turn out to clean ship. The chief boatswain's mate is nominally the "boss" of the job, but it is Legs who sees that the men do not growl or quarrel at their work, as sleepy men will at such an hour and task. Mess gear for breakfast is piped. The men rush to the tables. A bluejacket with shoes on steps on the foot of the bluejacket who is shoeless. Biff-bang! The Legs may be 'way aft on the poop watching the after-guard sweepers at their work; but he is a man of instinct. In a dozen bounds he is at the scene of the scrap. "Chuck it! The Legs!" is the word there. The scrappers break away, and when the Legs shows up they are seated side by side at their mess table, quietly taking morning coffee. It is the business of Jimmy Legs to make a tour of inspection through the ship just before "morning quarters." The ship is then supposed to be in shape for the commanding officer's approval, and the men's wearing-gear all stowed away in ditty bags. It never is. There is always to be found a shirt hastily thrown here, a shoe lying loose there, a neckerchief and lanyard hanging over a ditty-box. This gear the Legs gathers in impartially, no matter to whom it belongs, and thrusts into the "Lucky Bag" (which is generally known by a far more opprobrious epithet), which he keeps for that purpose. The only way the owner of the gear may get it back is by reporting himself at the mast, that is, to the commanding officer, for remissness in stowing gear, which means, generally, a lopping off of liberty privileges. Every month the contents of the bag of gear thus accumulated are sold aboard at auction to the highest bidder among the jackies. Finally, there is hardly a day in port that the Legs is not sent ashore along toward noon to hunt up derelicts. These are liberty-breakers carousing in town regardless of the fact that their services aboard are needed, and that punishment awaits them when they return for overstaying their leaves. Jimmy Legs is called for by the commander and gets a list of the men to be returned. Into the steam-cutter hops Legs, and away he goes after the derelicts. He generally returns with them. He may be gone for some hours, or for a day, but when he comes off to the ship, in shore boat or cutter, he has the men he went after along with him. So much for Jimmy Legs, whose never-ending and varied duties Hiram Deering, a grizzled old man-o'-warsman, performed most admirably on the _Osprey_. The two men were pulled apart and the others had hardly gathered up their scattered ditty-bags and personal belongings when a commotion was observed among the officers on the bridge. They were gazing through their glasses at a puff of smoke on the north-western horizon. In the course of fifteen minutes it had grown to a small-sized cloud. "She must have legs, to overhaul us in this way," observed Ensign Dobson, with his binocular at his eyes. "How much were we making at the last log, quartermaster?" "Fifteen strong, sir." "Then that fellow's doing a good twenty," added the officer. "Can you make him out, Mr. Liddon?" "It looks to me like a 'destroyer,'" replied the other, readjusting the lenses of his glass. "It's a rather small, black craft, walking up on us hand over fist." "Bo'sun!" called Dobson to a man who stood near on the lower deck. "Yes, sir!" "Set the ensign." "Aye, aye, sir!" "There goes his flag!" said Dobson, excitedly. "I can't make out what it is, but we'll soon know. Shall I slow down a bit, sir?" he asked the lieutenant-commander, who had joined the other officers on the bridge. "Not yet," said Rexdale. "We can't afford to tie up for every fellow that wants to speak us. Let him come up. He'll signal his business soon, if he's really after us." The stranger approached rapidly, and could now be seen with the naked eye, as was attested by the watch on deck lining the bulwarks. There was no apprehension, as the United States had no enemies afloat; still the appearance, so far out at sea, of an unknown vessel bearing down swiftly on the _Osprey_, was enough to attract the lively attention of forecastle as well as cabin. The kitten episode was quite forgotten, as the men thronged to the rail. "Ah," exclaimed a brawny Irishman, waving his bare arm in the direction of the stranger, "w'ot a pity it ain't war-toimes now! Sure it's a lovely bit av a foight we'd be lookin' for, wid that smoker!" "War nothin'!" retorted the old gunner. "I'm willin' to keep me arms and legs on fur a while longer. What's the use o' bein' shot to pieces, anyway!" "Why don't he h'ist his ens'n?" growled another of the crew. "Manners is manners, I say." "It is h'isted," said Scupp, "only ye can't see it, 'cos it blows straight out forrard on this west wind he's comin' afore. The officers up there'll soon be makin' it out, I reckon." But the uniformed group on the bridge had no such easy task. They scrutinised the flag again and again, without success. "I can't make the thing out," said Dobson, lowering the glasses, "can you, Mr. Liddon?" "Can't say I can. It blew out once, and looked like nothing I ever saw before--a sort of twenty-legged spider in the centre. It's like nothing I ever saw in these waters. If we were on the Asiatic coast----" "Who has the sharpest eyes among the men, quartermaster?" enquired the commander. "I rather think, sir, them Japs can see the farthest." "Orderly," ordered Rexdale, beckoning to a marine on duty, "find one of the cabin stewards and send him to the bridge at once." Hardly a minute elapsed before Oto glided gracefully up the ladder and saluted. "Take these glasses and see if you can make out that fellow's ensign," said Rexdale. Oto lifted the binocular to his slanting eyes and picking up the approaching steamer gave it a swift glance. A moment sufficed. Then he returned the glasses to the commander, his face alight. "Japanese, sir," he said simply. "That the flag of Japanese navy." Dobson so far forgot his dignity as to slap his thigh. "That's so!" he exclaimed. "I remember it well enough now. What on earth can a Jap torpedo destroyer want in these waters?" "We shall soon find out--where's that boy? Gone already? Of course it excites him to see a part of his own navy so near. Stand by for signals, Mr. Dobson. Have your man ready, and get out your book." Dave's eyes were again scrutinising the approaching vessel as he gave the orders. When the stranger was within about half a mile she rounded to a course parallel with that of the _Osprey_, showing her long, vicious hull, black and low in the water; and slowed down to keep from running away from the American ship. Presently a line of small flags fluttered up to her masthead. Dobson examined them closely through the glass, then turned to his signal-book. "One--three--seven--five--here she is--the _Kiku_--that's Jap for Chrysanthemum, isn't it? Run up the answering pennant, signalman. Then haul it down and set our number." The introduction having thus been politely performed, the _Kiku_, first answering the _Osprey's_ number, hoisted another line of flags. "H'm, they have our signals pat," muttered Dobson, turning the leaves of his book. "Here it is, Captain. 'Wish to communicate. Have message for--' for whom I wonder? Answer, signalman. There goes the second half of the signal: 'man on board your ship.' Well, that's cool! What shall we reply, sir?" "Answer: 'Send boat with message--hurry,'" said Dave, frowning. "I don't like to stop, but the message may be important. I suppose it's for me, only the Japanese don't know enough to say so. Slow down, quartermaster." "Slow, sir." And the indicator swung to that mark. "Half speed." "Half speed, sir." "Now, full stop." "Full stop, sir," and the engines of the _Osprey_ were still. The _Kiku_ had taken similar measures, and changing her course, approached to within a hundred rods. Down came her starboard quarter-boat, with beautiful precision. The oars fell together as the boat left the ship's side, and started toward the _Osprey_. A ladder was thrown over, but the Japanese stopped abruptly, backing water when two or three boats' lengths distant, and turning, rowed a slow stroke to keep abreast the gangway of the gunboat, which had not lost her way. The officer in charge rose to his feet and raised his cap courteously. "You have Japanese on board, sir, name Oto?" he called out. "Yes, sir. What of it?" "My captain wish to see him." Rexdale gave a little start of irritation. "Leave your message for the boy," he shouted. "He's my cabin steward. I can't hold my ship for him to visit you." While this conversation was in progress, a slight, diminutive figure had glided into the crowd of men overhanging the rail on the deck below. On hearing Rexdale's answer he called out a few rapid words in his own language to the officer in the boat. The latter answered, and the boat lay up alongside. Before any one realized what Oto was about, he had climbed the rail like a monkey and dropped into the strange boat, which immediately headed for the _Kiku_. [Illustration: "OTO CLIMBED THE RAIL LIKE A MONKEY."] "Here!" shouted Rexdale, angrily, "What are you about? Bring back that boy! He belongs to my ship!" The Japanese officer half turned in his seat, waved his hat most courteously, and spoke to his men; with the result that they pulled harder than ever. "Start her!" cried out Rexdale, furious with rage. "Start her, sir," repeated the phlegmatic quartermaster, throwing over the electric indicator. "Full speed ahead!" "Full speed ahead, sir." "Now port your helm! Look sharp!" "Port, sir." But by the time the _Osprey_ had fair steerage-way the stranger, veering in to shorten the distance, had picked up her boat and was pouring volumes of black smoke from her funnels as she too forged ahead. Her bows slowly swung to the northward. The captain on her bridge waved his hat. Dave set his teeth hard. "I'd like to send a shot across her bows!" he muttered, glaring at the audacious destroyer which was plainly running away from them. The jackies looked up eagerly at him, with their hands on the breach of the four-inch rifle; not a few fists were shaken at the departing stranger. It was a temptation, but the commander overcame it. "It won't do to open fire, just for a steward," he said to his subordinates, who were standing at his side with scowling faces. "On her course, quartermaster!" "On her course, sir. East by south, quarter south." "It's a regular insult," stormed Liddon, for once shaken out of his regularly calm demeanour. "It's abduction on the high seas! It's piracy, that's what it is!" "More like the press-gang," said Dobson, laconically. "Well," said Rexdale, after a pause, "Japan will have to apologise for that little performance when we've reached a cable port." "Is Oto an American citizen?" enquired Liddon. "I'm afraid not. I never heard him speak of naturalisation." "Then I suppose it's hardly an international episode," said the other, recovering his usual dignity of speech. "Perhaps the boy is an escaped criminal. At worst, I'm afraid the captain of the _Kiku_ has only been guilty of bad manners." "I shall report the incident to the Department at the first opportunity," said the commander decisively. "They can do what they like about it." But Rexdale did not make the report. The next morning he was waited upon, to his utter bewilderment, by Oto himself, obsequious, deft, and silent as of old! CHAPTER VI. A SCRAP IN MALTA. The lieutenant-commander rubbed his eyes and stared at the little brown man in utter amazement. "Oto!" he exclaimed at length. "You here?" "Yes, sir," replied Oto, placing a steaming cup of hot coffee at the right hand of the officer. "Come round here where I can see you. When did you come on board?" "This morning, sir, at about three bells." "Who brought you? Did you swim back?" demanded Rexdale, still mystified. "No, sir. I came in the _Kiku's_ boat," said Oto, showing his white teeth in a genial smile. "There was fog. The _Osprey_ was going at less than half speed, and the lookouts did not see me. We came very quiet." "Well, what have you got to say for yourself, any way?" asked Dave, irritated at the boy's self-possession. "Do you know I can put you in irons for deserting the ship?" The little Jap spread his arms, in deprecation. "Very sorry," said he humbly. "It was all mistake. Captain Osara wanted to give me message. He did not wish me to leave ship. All mistake. So I come back. Captain Osara say he apologise. Here his letter," and he handed a sealed missive to the commander, who impatiently tore open the daintily folded sheet. It was covered with Japanese characters. "Read it to me," said Dave, handing the letter to Oto, who translated as follows: "SHIP 'KIKU,' "ROYAL NAVY OF JAPAN. "To the Honourable "DAVID REXDALE, "Commanding U. S. Ship _Osprey_. "Am desirous to tender most humble apologies to your august presence for having taken to my ship the man Oto, whom I restore tremblingly to you. Augustly condescend to grant your forgiveness, and accept my joyful congratulation on your august health and the beauty and majesty of your ship. "Respectful veneration, "OSARA." "Well," said Rexdale, smiling, in spite of his vexation, at the language of the apology, "what was the message?" But neither threats nor persuasion could induce Oto to divulge the nature of the communication which had been of sufficient importance to take a naval vessel out of her way and to lead her commander to play such a daring trick--for such it evidently was, in spite of his polite phrases--on a United States war-ship. Oshima in his turn was closely questioned, but professed entire ignorance of the matter. "I've not a particle of doubt," said Rexdale, talking it over with Staples, "that it has some connexion with the strained relations between Russia and Japan. He's a dangerous fellow to have on board, this Oto, with his skill at gunnery, his high-bred manners, and his mysterious disappearances and appearances. When we reach Hongkong I shall dismiss both Japs. They might get us into a heap of trouble." Staples quite agreed with Dave, and, with a careful record of the episode in the ship's log, the affair was closed. Two weeks later the _Osprey_ dropped her anchor off the quay in the inner harbour of Valetta, the principal seaport of Malta. Rexdale's first care was to cable his arrival to the Department; next, to mail his report of the voyage; third, to send a long letter to Hallie, his wife, who would be waiting, even more anxiously than the Secretary of the Navy, to hear from him. At the telegraph office he found a dispatch from Washington, ordering him to hold the _Osprey_ at Valetta until further instructions from the Department. He knew that he would need time for coaling, and informed the other officers of the ship that they would probably spend at least a week at their present anchorage, which had been designated by the harbour-master. The next two days were busy ones. All hands worked hard and became grimy from head to foot with coal dust. At length the jackies forward heard the welcome order: "Shift into clean blue, the liberty party!" Working in the intense heat of a Mediterranean July, the men had been stripped to their waists. Now they sluiced one another down with the hose, and gladly slipped on their spruce shore-going togs. With strict injunctions to be on board before dark, thirty of the crew were permitted to land. Midshipman Starr went ashore with Ensigns Liddon and Dobson. "There's only one thing I want to see," announced Starr, "and that's a real, genuine Maltese cat, proudly standing on her native soil. I suppose the streets are full of 'em." He and Dobson had never before visited the city of Valetta, but "Doc." Liddon was well informed as to its history and attractions, having spent several weeks there before he joined the Naval Academy. The moment the three young officers set foot on the quay, they were beset by vendors of all sorts of trinkets, especially those of silver filigree-work. "What sort of money do they use here?" asked Dobson. "English, of course," replied Liddon. "The island is one of the choicest jewels in the British crown, and----" "Lend me a dollar's worth of shillings, will you?" interrupted the other, "and tell me about the jewels later, Doc. I want to buy that bracelet for 'the girl I left behind me,' if the price isn't too high." The seller parted with the pretty ornament for one shilling, and the trio, waving aside the rest of the merchants, moved on. "Where shall we go first?" asked Liddon. "Just show me one good cat--" began Bob, earnestly, "and I'll----" "Oh drop your cats, Bob! Take us to the best view, to begin with, Liddon." "Well, let's go up to Fort St. Elmo. That overlooks both harbour basins." "Whew! Hot's the word!" exclaimed Bob Starr, wiping his brow as they gained the ramparts of the old fortress. "Now, while we are cooling off, tell us about this aged ruin which the _Osprey_ could make over into cracked stone for a macadamised road in about five minutes." "It isn't a ruin yet, young man," said the ensign, taking off his cap to enjoy the breeze, "and the _Osprey's_ rifled four-inch would have to toss a good many shot up here to produce road material, I can tell you. But three hundred-and-odd years ago--in 1565, to be exact--this old fort held off a big fleet and land force for four months. The Knights of St. John defended it in great style. Sultan Solyman, who had driven the Knights from Rhodes thirty-four years before, made up his mind that Malta was too good for them. He brought about a hundred and forty vessels and an army of thirty-odd thousand men, to give them a thorough-going house-warming. "Were there any cats--" began Starr; but the lecturer proceeded without noticing the interruption. "These forces were reinforced, if I remember rightly"--(Cries of "Oh, you do! you _do_!" from the audience)--"were afterwards increased by a lot of corsairs from Algiers and pirates from Tripoli. When the fort seemed on the point of breaking up, after four months' battering, the few Knights that were left entered that little chapel over there, received the rites of the Church--the _viaticum_--and went out to start on their last journey. They were cut to pieces by the Turks; but two outworks still resisted and fought off the besiegers until help arrived from Sicily. Out of eight or nine thousand defenders, only six hundred were left to join in the _Te Deum_ (you know the Knights were a religious order) as the Turks sailed off." "O my, look at this!" Starr suddenly broke in. "Isn't she a dear!" The officers looked up and saw an extremely pretty girl approaching, attended by a maid. "What on earth is that thing on her head?" queried Dobson under his breath. "It looks like a stu'n'sail!" "It's a _faldetta_," said Liddon. "Most of the ladies, the natives, I mean, wear them." The young men rose from their seats on the bastion, and raised their hats as the girl passed. She flushed and bowed, then looked down demurely, and hurried on. "What language do they speak?" demanded Bob, hastily. "If I only knew, I could ask her about Maltese----" "Don't get agitated, my son," said Liddon, calmly, "and don't address any young ladies without an introduction. As for their language, it's a mixture of Portuguese and Arabic----" "That'll do," groaned Bob, with a heavy sigh. "There's no danger of my breaking out in her native tongue. What's next on the programme?" "Well, we'll take a stroll through the principal street and visit the Church of St. John, which was built by the Knights a few years after the siege." The street itself was full of interest to the young Americans. Sauntering along--themselves attracting no little favourable attention in their natty white uniforms--they met cabmen driving their little horses at full speed, English ladies elegantly dressed side by side with the natives in their huge black one-sided hoods, flocks of goats, to be milked at the doors of customers, smart British officers, swarthy-faced Hindoos, and beggars without end. "This is the Church of St. John," said Liddon, as the naval party entered an imposing portal, flanked by two huge towers. "Here the Knights used to worship, when they were not otherwise engaged----" "To wit, in fighting!" interpolated Starr. "Well, I must say those old fellows did well whatever they undertook. Look at those marbles and paintings!" With hushed voices the three young men passed down the long aisle, to one of the chapels where they were shown various relics which, Liddon said, had been held in the deepest veneration by the builders of the church in those strange old days. There were some of the bones of St. Thomas of Canterbury, one of the stones cast at St. Stephen, the right foot of Lazarus, and a thorn from the sacred crown. However sceptical the Americans might have been as to the genuineness of these relics, they showed in their faces and demeanour only their respect for the belief of those who treasured them. A party of tourists came up at the same time, and two or three pretty girls giggled effusively over the objects displayed. "Come on!" muttered Dobson in disgust. "Let's get out of this. There are times when I'm ashamed of my race!" and turning on their heels the young men left the church. The gay scenes in the sunny street restored their good humour, and they visited successively a catacomb chapel--where the vaults were ornamented with fantastically arranged bones of departed monks and knights--an old city gate, and some interesting rock-hewn depositories of grain. "Not a cat yet, except a yellow one that don't count!" murmured Bob sadly, as they turned their steps toward the final great attraction of Valetta, the Governor's Palace, in St. George's Square. "It was formerly," explained their omniscient guide, "the palace of the Grand Master of the Knights of St. John, and contains some of the principal treasures of the Order. Here is the Armory," he added, as they entered a large hall, containing rows of figures clad in antique armour, and a wealth of weapons and armour of ancient times. Here, too, was the sword, battle-axe, and coat-of-mail of the leader of the corsairs who assisted the Turks in the famous siege of Fort St. Elmo; the trumpet which sounded the retreat of the Knights from Rhodes, in 1523; and a cannon made of a copper tube and wound with tarred rope, used by the Turks, Liddon said, during their siege of that island. "Compare it with one of the twelve-inch turret rifles on our modern battle-ships!" exclaimed Dobson. "Why, I'd rather have a good navy revolver to fight with than this ropy thing!" For two or three hours more (a rest being taken at a small restaurant) the officers wandered about the streets of Valetta. Liddon regaled his companions with details of its history, including its capture by Napoleon in 1798, the subsequent two-years siege when the Maltese had risen in revolt against their captors, and its formal cession to the English in 1814. "It's no use, boys, I'm used up," said Dobson at length. "I'm off for the ship; you can come or stay, as you like." "Oh, we'll go along, too," said Starr. "I should have left an hour ago, but I wanted to see how long Liddon _could_ keep it up, before the pumps sucked. He'd make his fortune as a filibusterer against an unpopular bill in the Senate!" They passed along the Strada Reale--"Royal Street"--for the last time, and were just turning down toward the harbour when a slight commotion on the sidewalk ahead attracted their attention. A knot of people had gathered around a group in which some sort of altercation was going on. "Hold on a minute," cried the midshipman, "let's see what's up." The three inseparables pushed their way into the crowd, the outer portion of which was composed of good-natured Maltese and a variety of street-loungers. Within this circle were a dozen sailors from a small Russian cruiser in port. They, in their turn, had corralled a couple of small brown men whom their tormentors were hustling rudely as if to provoke a resistance which would afford an excuse for rougher treatment. The officers from the _Osprey_ simultaneously recognised the victims of this assault, and with a howl of indignation from Bob, and a stern "Stand aside, men!" from Liddon, they pulled off the Russian blue-jackets and took their stand beside the Japanese, who were no other than Oto and Oshima. "_Amerikanski!_" snarled the sailors as they noted the uniforms of the intruders and closed in again, while the throng of idlers increased. "What's the matter, my lads?" said Dobson to the stewards, who seemed in no wise discomposed, but stood quietly awaiting a favourable moment for withdrawal. "We do no harm," said Oshima, when both had given the naval salute. "These men, these Russians"--(it is impossible to describe the tone of lofty contempt with which he pronounced the word, looking around at the burly tars, each a full head taller than himself)--"they stop us here in the street and call us bad names and dare us to fight--the big men--cowards!" Perhaps it was fortunate for the little Jap that the Russian sailors could not understand a word of English; but the general tenor of his remarks was only too plain from his tones and gestures. The assailants closed in again with a volley of incomprehensible expletives and unmistakably threatening gestures. Liddon was violently shoved aside. This was more than he could stand. "Take that, you bully!" he cried, planting a quick, nervous blow straight between the eyes of the fellow who had jostled him. The man fell over against his comrades--the street was too crowded to allow him to drop outright--and the inner circle enlarged; but only for a moment. The sailors, half of whom were intoxicated, rushed forward with a roar of rage. Before they reached the officers, whose prospects of gaining their ship in safety seemed decidedly poor, Oto spoke a swift word to his chum, and each darted upon a Russian. It was like a terrier charging a bloodhound; but with a lightning-like grasp and twist of the arm the diminutive assailants brought to the ground their bulky adversaries, screaming with pain. Then the Japanese ducked under the arms of the nearest bystanders and disappeared as if by magic. Another momentary diversion had been effected by this quick and unexpected display of _jiu-jitsu_, but now the sailors were about to charge again. The unarmed young officers stood on guard, their fists advanced. "You take that big chap with a black beard, Bob," said Liddon hastily, "and I'll engage the brute next to him. Dob., you look out for the beauty with red hair. Steady, now, fellows, here they come!" But before the two parties fairly clashed, a ringing shout rent the air. "Hooroar, byes, it's a scrap!" shouted a jovial voice well known to the Americans. Then the tone changed. "Ah--h--sure it's the darlints of ensigns and the middy from the _Osprey_! Come on, byes, let 'em have it!" The officers were glad enough of reinforcements to overlook the slight to their dignified rank on board ship. In a moment the affair was over. Half a dozen Russians were rolling in the dust, while the rest fell back in disorder before the onslaught of the _Osprey's_ jackies, led by Pat Ryan and Dick Scupp, who, it afterwards turned out, had been directed to the spot by Oto, and had rushed ahead with no clear idea of what was the matter until they caught sight of the white duck and gold braid of their own officers' uniforms. "Down to the boats in a hurry, lads!" shouted Liddon, leading the way, as he heard cries of "Police! Police!" on the outskirts of the throng. A rush for the quay, and the _Osprey_ men scrambled into their boats, taking the two Japanese with them. The Russians gathered on the steps shaking their fists at the "Amerikanski," but no further harm was done, and in a few minutes the "liberty party," officers and all, were safe on board the gunboat. "'Twas a lively brush, sir," said Ensign Liddon, reporting the affair to Rexdale; "but I think nothing will come of it. We must keep away, and keep our men away, from Russians just now, when their feeling against Americans is running pretty high." "Very true," said the lieutenant-commander, smiling. "I'm glad it was no worse. And Oto, Oshima, no more shore leave for you, while the _Neva_ is in port!" Liddon proved to be right in his conjecture. The police, arriving just too late to witness the affray, and seeing that trouble had arisen between sailors of different nationalities, hardly went through the form of pursuing the participants, and let the whole matter drop; such squabbles being common in every large seaport where war-ships lie in the stream and their crews have liberty ashore. The _Neva_ sailed for the Baltic two days later, and within a week Rexdale received orders from the Department to proceed eastward. Then came a succession of wonderfully beautiful days and nights on the blue Mediterranean, the _Osprey_ tossing the foam from her stem in showers of sparkling silver, and startling the flying fish that flashed from wave to wave, until the low, tawny shores of Africa came in sight. "To think that I'm actually gazing upon Egypt!" exclaimed Bob Starr, as he stood on the bridge one fair July morning. "Those are really the 'sands of the desert,' and that scraggy-looking feather-duster is a palm!" Small vessels with great ruddy lateen sails hovered about the war-ship as she advanced. A shark's black, sickle-like fin drifted carelessly astern while the fierce fish, all alert below the surface, watched for prey. Now Damietta was reached, and Port Said. The _Osprey_, awaiting her turn, meekly entered the Canal in the rear of a big Dutch merchant steamer. There was little for the officers or men to do, and they clustered at the rails, and on the quarter-deck, gazing out over the marshes and plains of Egypt--the crew blankly, for the most part; the more highly educated graduates of Annapolis with thoughts of the great, dim Past to which this storied land of the Pharaohs bore silent witness. Here Abraham wandered, from Ur of the Chaldees; across those sands marched the hordes of Rameses II., going up against the Syrians. Now and then the ship halted in basins cut for the purpose, like railroad sidings, to allow northbound vessels to pass. Nearly every ship was flying the Union Jack, for three-quarters of all the tonnage that passes through the Canal belongs to Great Britain. Next in order of frequency came the French, Dutch, and Germans. "Sure, it's hungry I am for the Stars and Stripes," said Pat, gazing gloomily at a broad German ensign at Ismalia, half-way across the Isthmus. "I'm tired o' jumpin' lions and two-headed aigles and rid crosses!" [Illustration: IN STRANGE WATERS] Onward again. Here a little village of mud-huts, with its clump of "feather-dusters," as Bob persisted in calling the palms; there a caravan plodding along the marshes against the sky-line. Flocks of water-fowl faring gracefully over the broad pools gave place to yellow sands, and the sands again to clear green water and sighing reeds. At last the good ship _Osprey_ emerged from the narrow, lonely, sluggish stream into the sparkling waters of the Indian Ocean. CHAPTER VII. O-HANA-SAN'S PARTY. O-Hana-San was to give a party. She announced the fact with pride to her schoolmates, who, with the frankness peculiar to childhood, eagerly demanded invitations. Had they been older, they would have called on the lady who was to entertain, and, after flattering her and making their personal regard for her as prominent as possible, would have brought the conversation round to the party, in order to show that they knew all about it and of course should expect an invitation. Being little girls, they just said, one and all, "Oh, do ask me to come, Hana!" Miss Blossom (for that is the English equivalent for her name) considered. "I can only invite twelve," she finally announced. "Twelve girls," she concluded, with a sigh; "no boys." "Why not?" demanded one of the larger boys, pushing forward. "You must ask me, anyway, Hana!" O-Hana-San shook her head. "It is not permitted," she said. "I cannot invite you, Oto Owari. Only girls--no boys." It was after school-hours. The children had been summoned to their tasks by a drum-beat, and at noon they had marched out of the schoolhouse, in orderly fashion, the boys in one division, girls in another. Once beyond the school limits, the two divisions became mixed. O-Hana-San was only nine years old, and Oto, being fifteen (this was about a dozen years before the building of the _Retvizan_ and the cruise of the _Osprey_) considered that he did her great honour in applying for an invitation to her party. He scowled, at her refusal, and turned away abruptly. "Come, Oshima," said he, to a comrade a little younger than himself, "let's go down to the shore." When Oto was disturbed in his mind he always wanted to "go down to the shore." The town where he lived was on the west coast of one of the northern provinces of Nippon, the principal island of the group comprising the Japanese Empire. Oto was the son of one of the leading men of the place. He was a bright, earnest boy, and often, after he had been listening to the talk of his elders, he would gaze across the sea toward that mysterious country Korea, which he had heard his father say was "a dagger, aimed at the heart of Japan." He longed to fight for the Empire, which he adored with all the passionate worship of the true Japanese. He was an adept at seamanship, in a small way, before he was fourteen; perfectly at home in the water or on it; and possessed with an ardent ambition to join the navy which his country was then building up in wonderful new ways, taught by the pale-faced folk of the other hemisphere. His father could give him but little hope of attaining his wishes, for he could not let the lad serve as a common sailor, nor could he afford to give him the higher education necessary for an officer. Oto's boon companion since childhood was Oshima, the son of a rich family who occupied a handsome villa on the outskirts of the town. Oshima's grandfather had been one of the famous _Samurai_, who carried two swords. When the edict had gone forth suppressing the order, or depriving it of its essential characteristics, he had joined a band of Samurai who refused to obey the imperial command, and in a fight which followed he had lost his life. Oshima's father was a peaceful man who cared little for war, but the boy himself had inherited his grandfather's love of battle, and made up his mind to enter the army. The two boys talked with each other of their plans and hopes, often and earnestly. By the time the lads had reached the rocky shore just north of the village, they had forgotten all about little Blossom and her party. O-Hana-San was a great favourite with Oto, it is true, but when once the topic of the navy was raised, all other thoughts fled to the winds. "Let us swim," said Oshima at length, when several prospective battles had been fought out, on sea and land. "I'm as warm as if I had been marching from Fusan to Seoul--where I shall march some day." "Go you and swim if you want to," replied Oto. "I have a plan here to work out, for manoeuvring a battle-ship in the face of the enemy, with the tide setting out from land, and----" "Oh, bother your tides!" laughed Oshima. "Here goes for a dip into them. I'll come out in ten minutes." He was soon in the water at a good distance from shore, gamboling like a porpoise, swimming on his back, treading, and performing all sorts of antics. Oto had drawn a piece of paper from his pocket and was absorbed in tracing a diagram of a sea-fight. After a while he glanced up carelessly; then he sprang to his feet with a wild cry. "Come in! come in, Oshima! Quick! There's a shark after you!" At first Oshima did not understand; but he saw the other's gesture, and looked over his shoulder. There, not a hundred yards away, was the dreaded black fin, glistening in the afternoon sun, drifting rapidly toward him like the sail of a child's toy-boat. The swimmer struck out for the shore with all his might. He was in a little bay, and Oto, springing down headlong over the rocks, perceived that his friend was a little nearer the southern point of land than the central beach from which he had started. "Make for the point--the point!" he shrieked, gesticulating wildly. Oshima veered to the right, and the black fin followed. Oto plunged into the sea and swam straight toward the shark. There was no more shouting now; only two dark heads bobbing in the waves, and the little black sail dancing toward them. Oshima now began to beat the water with his hands, making a tremendous splashing. The great fish, startled by the commotion, paused, and the ugly fin seemed irresolute. Oshima was now swimming more slowly. Younger than Oto, and far less robust, he was becoming exhausted. Every moment he expected to feel the clutch of those terrible jaws. He struck out madly, but made little progress. The shark, meanwhile, made up his mind. The new morsel was coming directly toward him, while the first seemed in a fair way of escaping to shallow water if not to the land itself. The monster, with a twist of his tail, turned again and made for Oto, though not very rapidly, for the splashing made the fish wary. At last the critical moment came. Oto had heard an old pearl-fisher tell of many a battle with the man-eating sharks of the Pacific. As the huge creature began to turn, to seize his prey, the black fin disappeared. Quick as a flash Oto doubled himself in the water and dived. A moment later a red stain dyed the surface of the sea. The boy had drawn a sharp dagger from his belt and stabbed upward as his assailant passed over him. There was no more battle. The shark had enough of Oto and fled for the depths of the ocean while his victor, watching sharply for his late foe, made his way ashore as swiftly as possible. He found Oshima stretched upon the sand, uninjured but almost unconscious from fright and exhaustion. It was this incident, the self-forgetful valour of his son's friend, saving the former's life at the peril of his own, that led Oshima's father, a few days afterward, to make the offer that changed the boy's whole life. He proposed to the elder Owari to send Oto at his own expense to any naval school in the world, and educate him for the Japanese navy. Oto chose the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, as we have seen, and graduated with honour, resigning only to accept a post under his own Emperor. Oshima meanwhile pursued his studies at the Military Institute in Yokohama, and received in due time his appointment as sub-lieutenant in the Japanese army. Entrusted with an important secret mission a few years later the two comrades went to America, performed their duties faithfully, and, in pursuance of direct orders from high authority, concealed their identity by returning as cabin stewards; the men of the _Osprey_ little dreaming that the meek, gentle "boys" whom they ordered to and fro on menial errands were officers, older and of higher rank than themselves, in the Imperial Army and Navy of Japan. Thus the party of little O-Hana-San led to important results; for had not Oto applied to her for an invitation, and gone off to the shore sulking because of her refusal, Oshima would not have had his eventful swim, the shark would not have been disappointed in a meal, Oshima's father would not have felt the impulse of gratitude which influenced him to bestow a naval education upon his neighbour's son; in short the _Retvizan's_ plans would never have been laid before the naval secret service authorities of Tokio, nor, in all likelihood, would Dave Rexdale have been so well served, in the absence of his two faithful Japanese stewards, on the outward cruise of the _Osprey_! As for O-Hana-San, she had her party, and a gay one it was, as gaiety was reckoned in those parts. The little hostess duly sent out her invitations, and received her guests with all formality. Her dark, glossy hair was drawn back, raised in front, and gathered into a double loop, in which a scarlet bit of scarf was coquettishly twisted. She wore a blue flowered silk kimono, with sleeves touching the ground; a blue girdle lined with scarlet; and a fold of the scarlet scarf lay between her neck and the kimono. On her little feet were white _tabi_, socks of cotton cloth, with a separate place for the great toe (which was a very small one, nevertheless), so as to allow the scarlet-covered thongs of the finely lacquered clogs, which she wore while she stood on the steps to receive her guests and afterward removed, to pass between it and the smaller toes. All the other diminutive ladies were dressed in the same style, and, truth to say, looked like a company of rather expensive little dolls. Well, when they were all assembled, she and her graceful mother, squatting before each, presented tea and sweetmeats on lacquer trays; and then they played at quiet and polite little games until dusk, when the party broke up, and O-Hara-San (Spring), O-Yuki-San (Snow), O-Kiku-San (Chrysanthemum), and the rest bobbed nice little bows and said, quite after the fashion of their elders, that "they had had _such_ a nice time," and went home. In the years that followed, O-Hana-San, the Blossom and the prettiest girl in the town, had but little chance to invite Oto to her parties, nor could the gallant young Japanese take her to the Academy hops; but he wrote to her constantly, and now, as the _Osprey_ cut the waters of the Indian Ocean with her snowy stem, he thought of the dark-eyed Blossom in the far-off little village of Nippon; and, as he tripped to and from the pantry, and returned with delicacies for the cabin table, balancing himself gracefully against the rolling and pitching of the vessel, wondered how soon he should stand before her on the quarter-deck of his own ship, clad in the brilliant uniform of his rank. As for Oshima, he had been waiting eleven years for a good chance to give his life for Oto! CHAPTER VIII. A BATCH OF LETTERS. [_Dick Scupp to his Mother._] "ON BOARD THE 'OSPREY.' "December 20, 1903. "_Dear Mother_: "I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am well and hope you are the same. We left Manila two weeks ago and came to this place, which is Chefoo. It sounds like a sneeze, doesn't it? It is a Chinese port on Shantung Peninsula, pretty nearly opposite Port Arthur, which as you know is occupied by the Russians. I wish I could be home next Friday, which is Christmas. Tell Katy to think of me and I will bring home something in my box for her. I am sorry to say I have lost that pair of stockings you knit for me. I forgot and left them on the deck instead of putting them in my bag and Jimmy Legs got them when he came round, and popped them into the lucky-bag. I might have gone up to the mast the next day and claimed them, but a lot of us were going ashore (it was when we were at Shanghai) and I didn't want my liberty stopped, so I let them go, and Sam Bolles bought them at the auction afterward for nineteen cents. That is all I have to say at present. "From your loving son, "RICHARD." [_From Oto Owari to O-Hana-San._] _Translated._ "SASEBO, January 2, 1904. "The exalted letter which you augustly condescended to send me on the 13th day of the 10th moon filled me with great felicity, to know that you are in ever-increasing august robustness, as you were tormented with light fever when I worshipped your eyebrow[1] a short time before. I do not know where I shall go next. I see Oshima almost daily at the barracks. A new ship is fitting out at the docks, the _Fujiyama_, and it may be that I shall have an appointment to her, or it may be that I shall have to go _under the water_. You will understand later. I am now awaiting orders. Although the war-cloud in the west is dark, the people in Tokio celebrated New Year's Day with rejoicing and festivity, as usual. The houses and shops, Oshima told me, were covered with fruits and flowers, and the streets decorated with flags and lanterns. Many bands of men marched through the city singing old war-songs of the Samurai. All the fairs were crowded. Pray condescend to take august care of your exalted health. I knock my head against the floor. "Remembrance and respectful veneration. "OTO. "TO O-HANA-SAN." [_Hallie to Lieut. Com. David Rexdale, U. S. N._] _Extracts._ "BOSTON, November 15, 1903. "_Dear Dave_: "You can't tell how anxious I am to hear from you. Your last letter, mailed at Suez, was a very short one. You told me you had a despatch from Washington ordering you to Shanghai instead of Hongkong, and I ought to have received a letter from that city; but I haven't and I'm worried about you. If it didn't cost so much I would cable instead of writing. Do write to me at once. If anything should happen to you[2].... "In September I had a little visit with the Holmes. Norman has been detached from the Brooklyn Yard and appointed to the _Vulture_, which probably will join the Asiatic squadron this winter or in the early spring. Our old friend Tickerson has received his commission as lieutenant (first grade) and his wife writes me gleefully on the increase of pay as well as glory. Do you remember when you introduced me to her, at Annapolis? They say 'Girlie' is just as proud of her as he was in the old days, when the other cadets (all but _you_, of course, Dave!) used to envy him as he walked down 'Lover's' with her. "You would be interested in the football situation this fall, if you were here. O, if only.... "Well, as I was about to say, Harvard is of course straining every nerve to get into condition for Yale. The game comes off in about ten days, and I'm going over to Cambridge to see it. Who do you suppose is going to take me? Why, dear old Uncle Richard, who happens to be spending a few weeks East, on business. Little Hallie Holmes is the dearest baby in the world. Wasn't it lovely in Anemone to insist on naming her for me? Aunt Letitia is tremendously interested in two things--anti-vivisection and the Russo-Japanese trouble. She has attended several hearings at the State House, and at one of them she spoke her mind out so forcibly that old Jed, bless his heart, made a great racket pounding on the floor and set everybody applauding. He had sneaked in without Aunt's knowing it, and on reaching home was heard to express a strong desire to 'keelhaul them doctors.' He takes great delight in his lofty 'cabin' and regularly goes out 'on deck' at the top of the house every night, to have a last smoke and a 'look at the weather,' like Captain Cuttle, before turning in. Aunt Letitia reads every scrap she can find in the papers about Russia and Japan, and so, for that matter, do I. Sometimes my sympathies are with one nation and sometimes with the other. Of course Japan is ever so much the smaller of the two, and her people are so quick and bright that nearly everybody takes their side and hopes that if there is a war she will win. But then Russia sometimes seems to me less like a bear than a great Newfoundland dog, and, as somebody has said, it's fairly pathetic to see how she has been trying all these years to get to the water; that is, to the open ocean, where she can have a navy, big and well trained, like other nations. Her ships in the Baltic seem like boats in a tub. Anyway I do hope and pray that there won't be any war, after all. Surely we humans know enough, have got evolutionised enough, in this twentieth century, to settle a dispute without fighting like savages. "I miss you every day.... Write to me as soon as you can.... "Your loving wife, "HALLIE." [_From Fred Larkin to Lieutenant Staples._] "SAN FRANCISCO, December 29, 1903. "MY DEAR LIEUTENANT: "'If you get there before I do, Tell them I am coming too!' "As I expected, the _Bulletin_ doesn't propose to get left on any unpleasantness in the Extreme East, nor even to take its chances in a syndicate. It wants real news, straight from the front, and, naturally, it hits upon Yours Truly to pick it up. I wrote to Rexdale just before leaving Boston, so it is probably no surprise to you that I have crossed the continent and am about to embark for Yokohama. Indeed I may make my bow to you on the quarter-deck of the _Osprey_ before you receive this letter! The papers are full of correspondence and abstracts of diplomatic papers from St. Petersburg and Tokio. The language of these communications between the State Departments of the two countries is bland and meek as the coo of a dove or the _baa_ of a lamb; but mark my words, my boy--there's going to be a war, and a big one. There _must_ be, to justify my going out to report it! Do you remember how a reporter in Havana in 1897 is said to have cabled to the home office of a certain 'yellow' journal not unknown to fame, 'No war here. What shall I do?' And the editor of the newspaper cabled back, 'Stay where you are, and send full reports. I'll provide war.' Well, our venerable and sagacious friend Marquis Ito, together with the amiable but distracted Ruler of all the Russias, will 'provide war' for me to write up, and that before many days. And the little Japs will strike first, see if they don't! Tell Rexdale, please, that I'm on my way. If anything good happens before I see you, 'make a note on,' and give it to me for a _Bulletin_ story. "Yours ever, "LARKIN." [_From Lieutenant Commander Rexdale to Hallie._] _Extract._ "CAVITE, P. I., December 2, 1903. " ... From Shanghai we were ordered to this port, where we have been lying for nearly a month, doing guard duty. Next Thursday we sail for Chefoo, the Chinese seaport not far from Wei-hai-wei, where Pechili Strait opens into the Yellow Sea. At that station we shall be quite near Korea and Port Arthur, and if there is any trouble we shall be spectators, though almost certainly not participants, so you need not worry when you see by the naval despatches at home that we are on the outskirts of the Debatable Land. It is hard, I've no doubt, for you to realise how the war-fever is growing, out here. I am told that the Japanese have been steadily preparing for this final trial of her strength with Russia for years past. You may be interested in the make-up of the Jap. army. Under the present law all males are subject to conscription at the age of twenty. There is no distinction of class, and there are no exemptions except for physical disabilities, or because the conscript is the sole support of indigent parents, a student in certain schools, or a member of certain branches of civil service. "The first term of service is between the ages of twenty and twenty-three. Then the soldier enters the first reserve, where he serves between the ages of twenty-three and twenty-six. After that he goes to the second reserve, where his service is between the ages of twenty-six and thirty-one; and then to the general national reserve, which includes all males between the ages of seventeen and forty not already in active service. " ... I was called off, yesterday afternoon, from my writing, and later in the day I learned that there is trouble in Seoul, the capital of Korea. There are lots of Japanese and Russians there, and, with the Korean natives hating all foreigners, there is material for a good deal of disturbance. Several riots have occurred in the streets, and it is said that our minister has cabled to Washington asking for a war-ship at Chemulpo, the port of Seoul. If the Department assents, the talk is that either the _Wilmington_ or the _Osprey_ will be detailed for that duty. I must say I hope it will be our little ship, and so do all our officers. Midshipman Starr puts it very well: 'When I was a boy, I always liked to get right up against the ropes at a fire!' He isn't much more than a boy now, but he's a fine fellow, and I'd trust him to do his part in an emergency.... "_Later._--The _Vicksburg_ is the lucky ship, after all. She has sailed for Chemulpo, and a party of marines will be landed and sent up to Seoul to protect our Minister and all other Americans and their interests in the city. The gunboat is commanded by Com. W. A. Marshall, whom you will remember meeting in Washington at the ball three years ago. His ship is about the size of the _Osprey_, and carries six guns. "I hear that the Japanese fleet at Nagasaki is removing all superfluous wood-work, filling its bunkers with hard steam coal, and preparing, in general, for business. We sail for Chefoo at 9 A.M. to-morrow.... "Your loving husband, "DAVE." FOOTNOTES: [1] "Met you." [2] Mrs. Rexdale has insisted that some portions of her letter, interesting only to her husband, shall be omitted. CHAPTER IX. AT THE CZAR'S COMMAND. Ivan Ivanovitch lived on the outskirts of a small village about one hundred miles north-east of Moscow. Like his father and grandfather and many generations before, he was a _moujik_, a peasant, with this difference: they had been serfs; Ivan was freeborn. His father now owned the hut in which he lived with his family of wife and three children--two girls, besides Ivan; he also owned a small patch of land, and an acre or two of tillable soil had been allotted to him when the serfs were emancipated, with a condition of slow payment to the Government, a few roubles at a time. Up to the autumn of 1903 Ivan worked in the fields, bare-headed and blue-bloused, beside his father. The girls worked, too, for the father was lame and needed all the help he could get. He had leaned upon Ivan more and more as the years went by and his son grew from boyhood to sturdy young manhood. Every evening the family knelt before the crucifix on the wall of the living-room, and prayed for themselves, their country, and their "Little Father," the Czar, who spent all his time in far-off St. Petersburg, they were sure, in thinking of his "children," the people of the great Empire, and loving them and planning for their good. In return they almost worshipped him, as they did the figure on the crucifix. "Soon you will have to serve as a soldier, Ivan," said his father one day. The older man had a great tawny beard and mane of hair like a lion's; Ivan resembled him more and more. "That is true, my father." "You are nearly of age." "True, my father." "But," put in his mother anxiously, "surely our boy will not have to fight?" "Nay, Matouschka," said Ivan tenderly but manfully, "if the Czar commands, my life is his!" Two months later he reported at the barracks at Moscow, and was duly enrolled in the 11th Regiment of Infantry, Third Division, First Reserves, of the Imperial Army. At first the novelty was amusing, and Ivan enjoyed the companionship of his comrades in the ranks, the smart uniform and big fur cap, the music of the band, when they paraded in the great square and the crowds gathered to see. But the drill, drill, drill became tedious, and it was with rather a sense of relief that in the latter part of the following January he heard that the regiment was to leave Moscow for the Far East. There was no time to say good-bye to his parents, nor could he have paid his fare to and from the village had permission been given. So Ivan took out his little brass cross, his "ikon," which, like every other Russian soldier, he carried in his bosom, and murmured a prayer for father and sisters and the little mother. Then he buckled on his belt, adjusted his clumsy cap, shouldered his musket and was ready. "Where are we going, comrade?" he asked of his next neighbour in the ranks, as they marched to the railway station. "I do not know. They say there is to be war." "War--against whom?" "The Japanese." "Japanese? Who are they? Are they savages or white like us?" "I can't tell you, Ivan. We shall know when we see them." "Why do we fight against them? Where do they live?" But his comrade could only shrug his shoulders. He had not the least idea of the answer to either question; nor had any man in the company, only a half-dozen of whom could read or write. "It is the Czar's command." Silently they plodded on, the snow whirling about them as they marched. Here and there a knot of people cheered them. This was pleasant. Ivan felt that he was really a soldier. When a lump came into his throat at the thought of the little hut in the lonely white waste far to the north, he gulped it down and broke into a hoarse laugh which brought down a reprimand from the nearest officer. The troops were packed into a long transport train like cattle. When the cars stopped or started suddenly they fell against each other. Some swore and even struck out, but most were as mild and phlegmatic as the cows and sheep whose places they had taken. Ivan was of this sort. "Never mind," he said to a man who trod upon his foot; "it is nothing. My foot is iron"; and when he was thrown against a neighbour: "Ah, what a blockhead I am! Will you not hit me, to pay the score?" Most of the soldiers said nothing. As verst after verst of desolate snowy landscape was left behind they stood or squatted in the cars, silent, uncomplaining. Why should they find fault with cold and hunger and fatigue? It was the Czar's command. The Little Father in his palace was caring for them. It was theirs not to complain, but to obey. There were many delays on the ill-constructed, overcrowded Siberian Railway, the black cord that stretched across a continent to Port Arthur and Vladivostok, seven thousand miles away. But whether it was seventy miles or seven thousand the rank and file of the army hardly knew or cared. Cold, hungry, stiff from constrained position, they bore all privations with calmness and even a sort of jovial good-humour. At night every soldier fumbled under his furs and heavy winter coat for his ikon, and his bearded lips murmured the sacred Name. At length the rugged shores of Lake Baikal were reached, in Farther Siberia. Here there was another halt, for the railway itself came to an end, and the troops were ordered out of the train at early dawn. "How can we go on?" asked Ivan stupidly. Before him a white plain stretched away to the horizon line. To the right were mountains; to the left, mountains. The ice-bound surface of the lake was swept by a bitter gale, which heaped up huge drifts and flung them away again, like a child at play. Behind the regiment of fur-capped soldiers, huddled on the frozen shore, was home; before them, what seemed an Arctic sea. The snow fell heavily, and drifted around their feet. "How can we go on?" asked Ivan; and a subaltern, breathing through his icy moustache, replied: "I do not know, private, but we must advance. It is the Czar's command." When Russia, determined to establish a port on the open sea, though it were thousands of miles from her capital, built the great Trans-Siberian Railway, she progressed rapidly with her fragile, light-rail, single-track road until she came to Lake Baikal. Here Nature had placed what might well be deemed an impossible obstruction: a huge inland lake four hundred miles in length, eighteen hundred feet deep, bordered with mountains, whose sheer granite cliffs rose from the water to a height of fifteen hundred feet, and in their turn were overshadowed by snow-capped peaks. The lake at this point is forty miles wide. No bridge could span its storm-swept surface, no tunnel could be driven beneath its sombre depths. How was the obstacle to be surmounted? A weaker nation would have given up the task, as the French tired of working at the Panama Canal; Russia, ponderous, tireless, determined, almost irresistible, moved on. In the science of Physics, the momentum of a moving body is thus analysed and expressed: M = _m_ � _v_. In other words, it equals the mass of the body multiplied by its velocity. If either factor be increased, the momentum becomes correspondingly greater. When Russia moves, the velocity is slight, but the mass is enormous. When the soldier, in the time-worn anecdote, tried to stop with his foot the slowly rolling spent cannon-ball, it snapped his leg like a pipe-stem. The nation that opposes Russia must itself be of iron mould, or it will snap. Lake Baikal was a trifle, a mere incident to the civil engineers who laid out the Trans-Siberian Railway. In the summer-time huge steam ferry-boats plied from shore to shore, transferring passengers and freight from the western to the eastern or Trans-Baikal section. From November to April the lake is frozen over, but during at least half of that time enormous ice-breakers, like the heaviest ocean-going tug-boats, crashed through the ice and kept open a canal from side to side. These were temporary expedients. The engineers meanwhile had not been idle. They attacked the cliffs bordering the southern end of the lake, and began cutting a path through the solid rock for advancing Russia. Twenty-seven tunnels were to be bored, and have since been completed. While Ivan waited by the shore a dull boom came now and then to his ear, from the blasting. It was the relentless, unfaltering tread of Russia's iron heel. But other means had to be provided, in that terrible winter of 1903, for the passage of troops and supplies, for although the great mass of soldiers did not understand, their leaders and the counsellors of state in St. Petersburg knew there was urgent need. A railroad was begun upon the ice itself, and before March was in actual operation. A thousand feet of water gloomed beneath the thin ice bridge. Once or twice there was an accident--a locomotive went through, or a few cars, and, incidentally, a few human beings. This was nothing. "Forward, my men! It is the Czar's command!" The ice railway not yet being complete, there was but one way to cross Lake Baikal--by horse-power or on foot. High officials and favoured travellers secured sledges; the main body of infantry, including Ivan's regiment, having hastily swallowed a breakfast of army rations, set out on the march across the forty miles of ice plain, at "fatigue step." The bands were forbidden to play, lest the rhythmic tread of the soldiers, instinctively keeping time to the music, should bring too great and concentrated strain upon the ice. Before they were half a league from shore the wind pounced upon its new playthings; it blew upon their sides, their backs, and their faces. It pelted them with ice-drops, with whirling masses of snow. They leaned forward and plodded on, unmurmuring. It roared like a cataract, and howled like wolf-packs; the air was so filled with drift that each man simply followed his file-leader, with no idea of the direction of the march, the van being guided by telegraph-poles set in the ice at short intervals of space. Hands and feet became numb; beards were fringed with icicles; the men in the disordered ranks slipped and stumbled against one another. With the mercury 23° below zero, and a northerly gale, hurled down the entire four hundred miles of unbroken expanse of the lake, the cold was frightful. Ivan turned his head stiffly to mumble something to his neighbour in the ranks. He was no longer there. The subaltern who had answered him on the shore was also missing. Like scores of others he had wandered off the line of march, to fall and die unseen. Ivan bent his head to a fierce blast, muttering "Courage, comrades!" No one replied to him as he staggered uncertainly onward. "Courage, comrades!" shouted Ivan again. His voice was lost in the ceaseless roar of the gale. Ivan peered out from under the mask of ice which had formed across his eyes, from his shaggy brows to his moustache. No one was near him. He was alone with the storm. It seemed an easy thing to lie down in the snow and go to sleep. It would be a joy merely to drop the heavy musket. Nobody knew where he was; the lake would swallow him up, and who would be the wiser? Ivan halted a moment, pondering in his dull way. Suddenly he remembered. That would be disobedience of orders. His officer had said, "It is the Czar's command!" What madness, to think of disobeying the Little Father at St. Petersburg! The peasant-soldier gripped his breast, where the ikon lay, and, taking his course as well as he could from the direction of the wind, staggered on. Whether it was five minutes or an hour he could not tell; but now he saw dim figures around him, plodding silently onward. Whether they were comrades of his own regiment he neither knew nor cared. He was once more, after that moment of individuality, a part of the Russian army, and moved mechanically forward with it. The men huddled together like sheep, as they marched. When one of their number staggered aside and disappeared they closed the gap; when one fell, they stepped stiffly over him. "Halt!" Each man stopped by stumbling abruptly against the one before him. They asked no questions. They remained standing, as they had moved, by sheer inertia, letting the butts of their muskets rest on the ice. The column had halted by a rest-house, marking half-way across the lake. A few officials of highest rank, a newspaper man or two, half a dozen merchant travellers with special passes, refreshed themselves with soup and steaming tea. A steady stream of open sleighs passed slowly by the silent, immovable column. The troops were fed where they stood, without shelter from the fierce blast and whirling snow. Soon the order came down the line, "Forward!" Once more the fearful march across the ice was resumed. At long intervals there were more halts, when tea was served; but the cold increased. The men now began to suffer less. Some of them hoarsely roared out a snatch of song; these soon dropped or wandered away. When the winter storm of Siberia first assaults it is brutal in its blows, its piercing thrusts, its agonising rack-torment of cold. Gradually it becomes less rude and more dangerous. Its wild shriek of rage becomes a crooning cradle-song; it strokes away the anguish from the knotted joints of hand and foot and limb. It no longer repels, it invites. When the long column of staggering, ice-covered forms reached the eastern shore of the lake its numbers had lessened by five hundred, who would never face the unknown enemies of the Far East. Ivan was among the survivors. His huge frame, his iron constitution, his allegiance to the Czar, had carried him through. He found his company half a verst ahead, and as night fell he joined a group of grim figures around a blazing camp-fire. Tea was made and served out, with regular army rations. The men's drawn faces relaxed. They warmed their half-frozen limbs. Rough jokes passed. The terrors of the lake-crossing were forgotten. "On to Harbin!" they roared out in chorus, as their colonel passed. "Long live the Czar!" CHAPTER X. THE FIRST BLOW. On the evening of February 8th a fleet of dark-hulled ships moved silently westward across the Yellow Sea. In the harbour of Port Arthur lay the pride of the Russian navy, most of the ships riding peacefully at anchor in the outer roads. They comprised the battle-ships _Petropavlovsk_ (flagship), _Perseviet_, _Czarevitch_, _Retvizan_, and _Sebastopol_, and the cruisers _Novik_, _Boyarin_, _Bayan_, _Diana_, _Pallada_, _Askold_, and _Aurora_. Of the officers, many were on shore, enjoying the hospitalities of the port and drinking the health of the Czar. The crews were below decks, or smoking idly and talking, in the low gutturals of their language, of home and friends far away. Secure in their sense of their mighty domain and the power that reached from the Baltic to the Pacific, they sang snatches of rude forecastle songs, or joked and laughed at the prospects of a war with the Japanese, "those little monkeys," who dared dispute even in mild diplomacy with the Great Empire. And as they laughed, and the smoke curled upward from their bearded lips, and the little waves of the peaceful harbour lapped softly against the huge floating forts, the black hulls from the east crept nearer, through the darkness. Nine years had elapsed since the Japanese had invaded Korea and Manchuria. In 1895, victor over the Chinese, firmly established with his troops on the main land, with his fleet riding in the harbour of Port Arthur, which his army had taken by storm, the Mikado had been compelled by the powerful combination of Russia, France, and Germany to give up the material fruits of his victory, and Japan, too exhausted to fight for her rights, withdrew sullenly to her island Empire. Three years later Russia obtained from China a twenty-five years' lease of Port Arthur, which she claimed she needed "for the due protection of her navy in the waters of North China." Her next move was to secure right to build the Manchurian Railway, connecting her two Pacific ports, Vladivostock and Port Arthur, with her western capital. She had at last reached the open sea. Vladivostock, at the south-eastern extremity of her own possessions in the north, was blocked by ice and shut off from the ocean every winter; Port Arthur offered a safe and open roadstead for her navy and mercantile marine throughout the year. During the years that followed Russia strained every nerve to establish her customs, her power, and her people in Manchuria. Japan saw the danger to herself, but was powerless to prevent it. Recruiting from the expenditures of the Chinese war, she prepared for the greater struggle that was inevitable. She built up one of the most formidable navies the world had seen; she trained her officers and crews by the most modern methods; she reorganised her army and laboured to perfect it as a fighting machine. By wise laws and enlightened counsels she fostered her resources until her treasury was plethoric with gold. At last, early in 1903, she calmly reminded Russia that the stipulated term of her occupation of Manchuria, save at Port Arthur, had expired; that her excuse for remaining there no longer existed; that her pledges of removal must be kept. Russia winced under the word "must"; the keyword of her own domestic polity, when applied by the nobles to the masses, it now had a strange and unwelcome sound. She redoubled her efforts to pour troops into the province, provisioned and fortified Port Arthur for a year's siege, established a "railroad guard" of sixty thousand men,--and blandly promised to retire in the following October. Japan was no less alert. One by one the divisions of her great army were mobilised. They were drilled unceasingly, by competent officers from Western schools. They invented new and terrible explosives and engines of war, and prepared their battle-ships and torpedo-boats for active service. October passed, and the forces of Russia in Manchuria had been largely augmented instead of diminished. More diplomatic messages, couched in courteous terms, passed between the two capitals, and greater numbers of armed men flocked to the eastern and western shores of the Japan Sea. Again and again St. Petersburg gained a modicum of time through silence or evasive answer; while the rails of the long railroad groaned under the heavy trains that day and night bore troops, supplies, and ammunition eastward. At last the limit was reached. On the 6th of February, at 4 P.M., Kurino, the Japanese minister at St. Petersburg, presented himself at the Foreign Office at that city and informed Count Lamsdorff that his government, in view of the delays in connexion with the Russian answer to Japan's latest demand, and the futility of the negotiations up to that time, considered it useless to continue diplomatic relations and "_would take such steps as it deemed proper_ for the protection of Japan's interests." In obedience to instructions, therefore, he asked, most gently and politely (after the fashion of his countrymen), for his passports. On one of the Japanese torpedo-boats silently approaching Port Arthur, just forty-eight hours after M. Kurino had made his farewell bow at the court of the Czar, was Oto Owari. No one who had seen him on the _Osprey_, meekly serving his commander with sliced cucumbers and broiled chicken, would have recognised the trim, alert little figure in the blue uniform, his visor drawn low over his sparkling eyes, his whole bearing erect, manly and marked with intense resolve as he conned his vessel through the channel toward the doomed fleet of the enemy. When the American ship arrived at Shanghai, Oto had at once procured his own discharge and that of Oshima, which was an informal matter, they not being enlisted men but merely cabin servants. Rexdale was glad to let them go. The little Japs were too mysterious and secretive personages to render their presence welcome on a war-ship where the commander should know all that is going on, above-board and below. Dave more than half suspected that his stewards were of more importance in their own country than their menial office would indicate; and while he could not exactly regard them in the light of spies--Japan being friendly to the United States--he felt more comfortable when they had taken their little grips and marched ashore to mingle with the heterogeneous population of the Chinese port. [Illustration: PICKED UP BY THE SEARCHLIGHT.] The torpedo-boats increased their speed as they neared the outer basin of the harbour of Port Arthur. Oto steered his small black craft directly toward a huge battle-ship with three smoke-stacks. "It is the _Retvizan_," he whispered to the officer next in command. "I know where to strike her. Wait for the order." The Russian ships had their nets out. They believed the Japanese fleet two hundred miles away. "Now!" hissed Oto sharply; and in a moment a long, black, cigar-shaped missile leaped from the bows of his ship toward the Russian leviathan. It dashed, foaming, through the water, sheared its way through the steel meshes of the torpedo net, and struck the hull of the doomed _Retvizan_ exactly where Oto had planned his attack. There was a dull roar, echoed by another and another a short distance away. Wild cries and shrieks of anguish rose from the Russian fleet. Two mighty battle-ships, the _Retvizan_ and the _Czarevitch_, slowly heeled over, mortally wounded. The cruiser _Pallada_ began to settle. She, too, was pierced below the water-line. Thus the Japanese declared war. The harbour now seemed full of torpedo-boats. Flash-lights from the forts on the Golden Horn and the Tiger's Tail disclosed the swarm of invaders. The hills resounded with the sudden roar of artillery, and every machine-gun in the Russian fleet that could be trained on the audacious enemy poured its hail of steel shot upon them. Outside the harbour, within easy range, lay the heavier vessels of the Japanese, which opened fire on the forts and the town from their great turret-guns. In the midst of the uproar and confusion the torpedo-boats which had inflicted such terrible damage retired to the shelter of the outer battle-ships and cruisers, unhurt. The _Retvizan_ limped over to the entrance of the harbour and rested on the rocks. The _Czarevitch_ was towed out of further danger. The storm of Japanese shot and shell diminished and at length ceased altogether, as the attacking fleet withdrew. The assault had occupied less than an hour; at one o'clock all was silent again, save where the wounded were being cared for, on the ill-fated _Retvizan_ and her sister ships, and the crews of every vessel in the harbour talked hoarsely as they stood to their guns, with decks cleared for further action. The first sea-battle--if such it can be called--of the twentieth century was over. Japan had struck, and struck fiercely. Russia was stunned by the blow. Although she did not then realise it, her sea-power in the Pacific was at an end, for years to come. "_Sayonara, Retvizan!_" said Commander Oto Owari grimly, as he headed his ship for the open sea. The midnight attack was but the first outburst of the storm. Before noon the Mikado's fleet returned, as the United States ships came back at the battle of Manila, and once more the huge twelve-inch rifles thundered and the shore forts replied. The still uninjured vessels of the Russians came bravely out to meet the foe, but reeled under the terrible fire that was concentrated upon them. For an hour the bolts fell thick and fast. Then the Japanese drew back, and the Russians, dazed, bewildered, thunderstruck at the swiftness and might of the assault, again counted their losses. "By order of Viceroy Alexieff," reported the commanding officer to St. Petersburg, "I beg to report that at about eleven o'clock in the morning a Japanese squadron, consisting of about fifteen battle-ships and cruisers, approached Port Arthur and opened fire.... " ... At about midday the Japanese squadron ceased its fire and left, proceeding south. "Our losses are two naval officers and fifty-one men killed.... During the engagement the battle-ship _Poltava_ and the cruisers _Diana_, _Askold_, and _Novik_ were damaged on the water-line." Three battle-ships and four cruisers put out of action in a single day! But more was to follow. In the harbour of Chemulpo, across the neck of the Yellow Sea, lay the Russian cruisers _Variag_ and _Korietz_, in company with several war-ships of other nations, including the U. S. gunboat _Vicksburg_. On the evening before the assault on Port Arthur the commanders of these two cruisers were notified by the Rear-Admiral Uriu, commanding a Japanese squadron, which lay just outside, that on the following day they would be attacked at their moorings if they did not quit the port by noon. Other foreign ships in the harbour were warned to withdraw from the line of fire. Early the next morning the _Variag_ and _Korietz_ cleared for action, and, with their bands playing the Russian national anthem, slipped their cables and moved slowly out of the harbour to sure destruction, amid the cheers of the crews of other nations, who appreciated their splendid bravery and the devotion of the men to the Czar, at whose command they were ready for death in its most terrible form. At a range of nearly four miles the battle began. The Japanese squadron opened fire upon the advancing Russians, who replied as promptly as if they were the forefront of a fleet of a dozen battle-ships, instead of a cruiser and gunboat as absolutely helpless as two spaniels encountering a pack of wolves. Five shells struck the _Variag_ in rapid succession, while shrapnel swept the crews repeatedly from her guns. A single shell killed or disabled all save one of the gunners on her forecastle; another struck one of her six-inch rifles (the largest in her armament), and exploded part of her ammunition; still another demolished her fore-bridge and set fire to the _débris_, so that the crew had to cease firing and rush to fire stations. Two shells now penetrated at the water-line. The second bridge was wrecked and a funnel shattered. All this time the _Korietz_ was firing wildly and doing little damage to the Japanese, who paid but slight attention to her. The _Variag_, to save the lives of her remaining crew, turned slowly toward the shore, and, accompanied by the gunboat, regained her anchorage, listing heavily and evidently sinking fast. Surgeons and ambulances were instantly despatched to the doomed ship by every war-ship in the harbour, including the _Vicksburg_. It was maliciously reported that the latter did not assist in this Samaritan work, but the slander was refuted and absolutely disproved. Commander Marshall, of the _Vicksburg_, was one of the very first to send boats to rescue the sailors, and medical aid to succour the wounded. At four o'clock the _Korietz_ was blown up by her commander. There were two sharp explosions, forward and aft. A mass of flame arose, and a column of black smoke rolled upward. As the noise of the explosion died away the Russians on the other ships could be heard across the bay singing the national anthem. The _Variag's_ sea-cocks were now opened, and the ship gradually filled. At five, a succession of small, sharp explosions were heard. The Russian captain, fearing that the Japanese would arrive, begged the commander of a British war-ship to fire at her water-line, but he refused. The list to port became more and more marked, and flames burst out from the sides and stern of the beautiful ship which, like the _Retvizan_, had been the pride of the builders in Cramp's Philadelphia shipyard a few years before. The ship's guns remained fast to the end, but there was a tremendous clatter and roar of gear falling to leeward. At last, with a slow and majestic plunge, the _Variag_ sank, all her tubes charged with torpedoes, and her great rifled guns pointing upward. Soon afterward the mail-boat _Sungari_ was fired, and the flames sent their red glow over the harbour of Chemulpo until it and all the ships seemed embayed in a sea of blood, while the wounded and dying men moaned below decks. So ended the first terrible day of the war, and night fell, as softly, as gently, as on the hills of Palestine long ago when the holy Babe lay in the manger and the angels sang "Peace on earth--good will to men!" CHAPTER XI. IN THE MIKADO'S CAPITAL. On the evening after the event narrated in the last chapter a group of foreigners sat on the pleasant verandah of one of the largest hotels in Tokio. They were easily distinguishable from the natives that thronged the street and square, not only by the Occidental costumes--of the latest and most fashionable styles--which adorned the ladies, but by the bright and animated faces with which they looked out on the strange scene before them, and discussed the astounding news which had just been displayed, "in real tea-chest letters," Edith said, on the newspaper bulletins. Edith and Ethelwyn Black had been invited by their father's old friends Colonel and Mrs. Selborne to join them in a trip around the world. The two young girls were delighted with the prospect, and with some reluctance Major Black consented to the plan. His wife had died five years before, and a widowed sister kept house for him; so, although the separation bore hardly upon the jolly major--from whom Wynnie must have inherited her unfailing flow of spirits--there really was no good excuse for letting the girls miss such an opportunity to enlarge their horizon, mental and physical. The party left New York in December, spent Christmas in San Francisco, and late in January landed in Yokohama. After a brief tour inland they went to Tokio, arriving just before the assault of the Japanese on the ships in the harbour of Port Arthur. On this special evening Tokio was a blaze of light. Not only were lanterns strung over every shop door and the porches of private houses, but in groups of twos and threes the golden and crimson globes veered wildly through the streets, borne by children as well as by their jubilant elders. Newspaper boys ran to and fro with extras, their little bells jingling and their shrill cries sounding above the roar of the crowds. The naval cadets of Japan in their neat uniforms massed in a solid column, and their cheer rang out, loud and clear: "_Banzai! Dai Nippon banzai! Banzai, banzai, banzai!_" Edith clasped her hands as she listened. "It's like a Harvard cheer," she exclaimed; "only it's more real!" "Yes," said the Colonel, blowing out a whiff of smoke. "It's life and death, instead of a mere football victory. I wish I could get the latest news----" Just then a slight, alert figure came up the steps of the hotel. The young man glanced quickly right and left as he reached the verandah. "Ah, Miss Black and Miss Ethelwyn," he said, coming forward with outstretched hand, "I'm not sure that you remember me, but that evening on the _Osprey_----" "Mr. Larkin!" exclaimed both girls, rising and cordially shaking his hand. "How delightful to find you here! Colonel Selborne, Mr. Larkin, a friend of Lieutenant-Commander Rexdale's." "Is Mr. Larkin in the navy?" inquired Colonel Selborne, meeting the young man's friendly greeting in his hearty way. "Well, no, not exactly," said Larkin with a laugh, "although I am on board the war-vessels pretty often, as war correspondent for the Boston _Bulletin_. There are half a dozen of us here already, trying to get our passes to go to the front, wherever that may be. Just now it's on the fleet and at Chemulpo, where the Japs have landed a regiment." "O Mr. Larkin!" exclaimed Edith. "You'll surely be shot, or something, if you go right where the soldiers and battles are!" "It will be 'something,' then, I guess," said the reporter with another of his jolly laughs. "We fellows aren't often shot. The greatest trouble we have, in a foreign war, is getting within reach of bullets at all. These blessed Japs bow and smile and promise, from dawn to sunset, but somehow there's always some hitch when it comes to actual permission to start. If I don't get my pass soon," he added, lowering his voice, "I shall get a move on, permission or no permission." As he spoke, both girls nodded to a man who bowed low as he passed them and entered the open door of the hotel. Larkin, following the direction of their glances, stopped short. A puzzled expression came into his face. "Pardon me," he said quickly, "may I ask you the name of the gentleman who bowed to you?" "That? Oh, that's Señor Bellardo," replied Wynnie carelessly. "He's a Spaniard, I believe, travelling for his health, but he speaks English very nicely. Have you met him?" "There's something familiar about his face," mused Fred, "but I can't remember--a Spaniard, did you say, Miss Ethelwyn?" "I think--yes, I know he is, for he alluded to his estates near Barcelona. That's in Spain, isn't it?" "It certainly is," assented the war correspondent, "but that fellow--excuse me; that gentleman-looked more like a--well, I think the air of Tokio, or the pleasure of finding old friends here, must have gone to my head. So we'll let the Señor drop. You'll be surprised when I tell you of another friend of yours who arrived here this very day!" "Oh, who is it? Tell us!" exclaimed the girls. "Perhaps you've forgotten him," said Fred, with a sly glance at Wynnie. "I declare there he is, now! Hulloa, there! Ship ahoy!" he cried, beckoning to a trim-looking lad who was passing on the other side of the street. "Why, it's Mr. Starr!" said Wynnie, with a gladness in her voice that proved she had not forgotten her companion of the _Osprey_ banquet. "Come up here, young man!" called out Larkin, rising from his seat. "I would have brought you here to-morrow, anyway, but my good intentions are frustrated by your untimely appearance." By this time the midshipman, recognising the faces of the two girls, had reached the verandah with a bound. He was presented to Colonel Selborne, and then came such a rapid fire of questions and answers as might have been expected. Bob explained that he had been temporarily detached from the _Osprey_ to carry important documents and messages from the commanding officer of the battle-ship squadron (of which the gunboats formed one division) of the Asiatic fleet to the United States naval _attaché_ at Tokio. He had arrived that morning on the U. S. Ship _Zafiro_, which had immediately steamed away again under orders to return for him at some future day to be appointed. He had run across Fred Larkin on the wharf, that enterprising gentleman being on the lookout for news from the fleet and any scraps of information the _Zafiro_ might have picked up as to the midnight assault on Port Arthur. Starr's official duties had occupied his attention most of the day, and he was on his way to see the crowds at the park when he was hailed from the hotel verandah. "Well, this is homelike!" he exclaimed with great satisfaction, as he settled back in his chair next Wynnie's. "What is the latest war news?" inquired the Colonel. "Oh, the Russians have got it in the--have sustained a severe defeat," said Bob, cutting short his Academy slang. "The Japs have blown up, sunk, or disabled half a dozen of the finest ships in their fleet. This afternoon Admiral Uriu finished off the _Variag_ and _Korietz_ just outside Chemulpo. The naval _attaché_ got it direct from the commander of the _Vicksburg_. I tell you, the old academy made itself felt when those Russian ships steamed out of the harbour!" "Made itself felt? Why, what academy, Mr. Starr?" asked Colonel Selborne, who was himself a West Point man. "Didn't you know, sir, that the Japanese Admiral Uriu was a graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis?" cried Starr. "Is it possible?" "It's true, and what's more, he married a Vassar girl." "To graduate from the Naval Academy and marry a Vassar girl--what more could man desire?" laughed Edith. "Echo answers 'What,'" agreed the midshipman enthusiastically. "That is, unless--Miss Ethelwyn,--" But if he had intended to ask whether _she_ were a Vassar student, his courage failed him and he lamely inquired if she "felt the draught." Wynnie dimpled and then laughed outright, putting the young man to still more confusion. Larkin struck in with one of his irrepressible puns about a "Vassarlating maid," and the laughter became general. "I married a farmer's daughter from Connecticut," said Colonel Selborne, "and, as a result, see what a charming pair of adopted nieces I have!" In the midst of the merriment that followed this sally, Señor Bellardo passed out of the hotel door, raising his hat to the group and saying "Good evening, ladies!" on his way to the street, in the shadows of which he soon after disappeared. Larkin started again and frowned. "Where have I heard that voice?" he demanded. No one could enlighten him, and the gay badinage and laughter of the young people was resumed, while the far-off clamours of the crowds were renewed as fresh details of the victory appeared on the illuminated bulletins. The "piazza party" at the Grand Hotel was prolonged to a late hour, when Fred and the midshipman took their leave, promising to call early the next forenoon in order to show the young ladies some of the sights of Tokio. When the correspondent reached his lodgings he cudgelled his brain to recall the time and place in which he had met that stranger whose voice affected him so unpleasantly. He gave it up at last, but his last waking thought was a resolve to follow up the mystery and establish that black-bearded Spaniard's identity before he left Tokio. The next morning the two young men appeared promptly at the appointed hour, together with three _jinrikishas_ (or "rickshaws," as foreigners call them) of the most gorgeous description. It being Saturday the Mikado's private pleasure-grounds, the Fukiagé Gardens, were thrown open to the public, and here the American party wandered for an hour, observing and discussing the broad, smoothly cropped lawns, the cascade, the masses of dark evergreen trees--unfortunately the plum was not yet in blossom--and, most interesting of all, the careless, bare-headed, quaintly dressed, good-natured people who thronged the grounds. Of the six thousand policemen in Tokio not one was visible in the Garden, yet everybody was well-behaved and courteous. In the afternoon Larkin took his daily tramp to the War Office. The sentry outside allowed him to pass with what Fred could not help interpreting as a sardonic gleam in his dark eye. The man had admitted many newspaper men, during January and February, and had seen them depart, bearing gloomy and disappointed faces and using strong language which fortunately he could not understand. Any boy or man who has ever drilled will remember the wearying performance called "marking time," when the soldier goes through all the motions of marching, tramp, tramp, tramp, but never gets ahead one inch. A noted American war correspondent contributed to his journal at this period a series of papers called "Marking Time in Tokio." No term could be more expressive. Larkin found half a dozen of his brothers-of-the-craft in the War Office. There were besides, in the large, bare room, two uniformed orderlies and two or three grave, elderly, courteous generals, each apparently doing nothing by himself, and although politely interested in the welfare of the foreign visitors, unable to spare time to discuss the war with them. "Perhaps," said one of these officials to Fred, "a column will leave soon for Korea. It would give me exalted pleasure to allow you to accompany them. No, I cannot tell when or where. Must you go? Good-day!" The days passed quickly. Larkin did his best to pick up scraps of information and cable, or write them out, for the _Bulletin_. His leisure moments he spent with the Blacks and Bob Starr, who was their unfailing escort in all excursions. Once they came upon Bellardo in full daylight, and Fred studied his face, but had to confess himself baffled. A rather dark complexion, full black beard, and an odd mispronunciation of English--these peculiarities he noted; in the two-minute interview with the young ladies he could make out nothing more, nor did he even secure an introduction, Bellardo excusing himself, on the plea of an engagement, and moving away just as Fred joined the group. The correspondents of the great American, English, French, and German dailies became more and more impatient. Some of them gave up, or were recalled, and went home. The certainty that Japanese troops were being taken across in transports made the situation the more aggravating. News of various sea-fights, and skirmishes on land, was posted by the newspapers. It was evident that the war was proceeding, just as if there were no war correspondents waiting to report it--at least, on the Japanese side. The city reporters in New York were better informed as to the movements of the two great armies than these scouts so near the firing line, yet so far away. Before long there appeared ship-loads of wounded men, sent back from the front to the hospitals in Nagasaki and Tokio. Information was given out that the Russians were concentrating in the lower Yalu valley, and that here the first great battle might take place. It was necessary for Japan to strike across the Korean peninsula and isolate Port Arthur, cutting the railroad above it if possible. "Larkin," said Starr, meeting the reporter in the street one day early in March, "I've received word that the _Zafiro_ will be at this port to-morrow, and I am ordered back to the _Osprey_. I hate to say good-bye to you, old fellow!" "And I hate to have you," said Fred. "Perhaps you won't have to," he added meaningly. "Oh, yes, of course I must obey orders. I'm on my way now to make my farewell call at the hotel. This evening I'll run in to see you at your lodgings on my way home." But when Bob called, Larkin was not in his lodgings, nor, strange to say, was there any trace left of his ever having occupied the room. No one knew where he had gone. He had paid his bill in full and left the house early in the evening, taking the small bag which constituted all his luggage. With a heavy heart--for various reasons--Bob went on board the _Zafiro_ the next morning, and the little despatch-boat put out to sea. CHAPTER XII. BETWEEN TWO FIRES. "I say, Farmer, can't we have a little target-practice and hit something accidentally--even that Chinese junk over there would do--so as to stir up some sort of a scrap?" Lieutenant Staples, addressing his commander familiarly by the old Academy nickname, yawned and stretched his arms in most undignified fashion as he spoke. The two officers were on the bridge of the _Osprey_, which lay at anchor off Chefoo. A gentle breeze barely stirred the placid waters of the bay, and the sun gave a hint of the torrid days that were to come. "I'm tired of sitting here, like a toad in a puddle, aren't you?" added the tall lieutenant, straightening himself up a little as a boatswain's mate crossed the open deck below him. "There is a kind of a sameness about it," laughed Rexdale, adjusting a pair of field-glasses. "What sort of a craft is that yonder, Tel?" "H'm--something under steam, anyway. Can you make her out through the glass?" "Unless I'm mistaken, it's the _Zafiro_," said the commander, working the glasses for a focus. "Yes, it's the despatch-boat, bringing Starr back from Tokio, no doubt." Ten minutes later Bob scrambled up over the rail, followed by a young man in civilian's clothes. "Fred Larkin!" exclaimed Dave. "How on earth did he get on board the _Zafiro_?" As soon as Midshipman Bob had reported himself, the war correspondent stepped up with a genial smile and shook hands warmly with the officers on the bridge. "Fact is, I'm a stowaway, Dave," said he. "That gay young lieutenant on the gunboat would have put me in irons if it hadn't been for Bob Starr. He's a good fellow and stood by me, when I disclosed myself on the _Zafiro_ about twenty miles out." "Well, what am I to do with you--that's the question?" said Rexdale, laughing in spite of himself at the reporter's nonchalance. "Strictly speaking----" "Strictly speaking, I've no business on one of Uncle Sam's war-ships without a permit from the Secretary of the Navy, or the admiral of the fleet, at least," said Larkin, with utmost good-humour. "Therefore, we won't speak strictly, until I've had time to look about a little, being under arrest, theoretically." "I can't very well drop you overboard, old fellow," assented Rexdale, "there being a shark or two around who would gobble up even a newspaper man. But really----" "Really, I'll leave you before night, old man," interrupted Fred, "so don't worry. Now you and Lieutenant Staples just sit down and tell a fellow what's the news from home--and hereabouts." "But how did you manage to get on board the _Zafiro_?" queried Dave. "Ah, don't ask me, and then you won't know. The movements of some of the heavenly bodies--comets, for instance, and reporters--can only be calculated from their periodic appearances, my son. Didn't you learn that at the Academy?" asked Fred, as the party of officers betook themselves to the after cabin. "Let it suffice your lieutenant-commandership that I really did go on board, and at the proper dramatic moment materialized before the astonished crew. I had a little more sail than I bargained for, not knowing that Mr. Starr had to report to the admiral before coming here." "Then Bob didn't know----" "Hadn't the ghost of an idea about it, upon my word of honour," said Larkin hastily. "There wasn't a more thunderstruck man on the ship than he, when I stepped on deck. I wish you could have seen his face!" They talked of Boston friends and of the progress of the war, concerning which Rexdale could afford his friend but little enlightenment. "All sorts of reports are afloat," said he. "I see in the home papers--by the way, there's a bunch of them at your disposal--that Chefoo is called a 'fake-factory, working over-time.'" "Not bad," said Larkin. "But so-called fakes often prove to be facts, after all. Has any attack yet been made upon Vladivostock?" "Apparently not. They say the whole sea-front, up there, is a network of submarine mines. Jap torpedo-boats and destroyers are patrolling the sea in every direction, and have picked up one or two vessels with contraband goods. I believe there was a bombardment of the port early in the month, but it amounted to nothing." "And on land?" "Well, the Russians are said to have about four hundred thousand men in Manchuria, and they are arriving by the railroad at the rate of a regiment a day. The Japs probably have at least half that number on the mainland. They are swarming across the Korean Peninsula and will have Port Arthur isolated before long." "If that is so," mused Fred, "I must move quickly." "Move--where?" "I'm going into Port Arthur, my boy." "Port Arthur! You'll never get there alive--don't try it, Larkin!" exclaimed Staples earnestly. "There's a close blockade, and you'll either be sunk in the bay or at the very best be taken prisoner if you reach the shore." "It's just that 'very best' that I'm reckoning upon," rejoined the reporter coolly. "I wanted to see you fellows before I went in, so you can allude to my whereabouts if I don't show up in a week or two. I'm an American citizen, Dave, and don't you forget it. You may be sure I won't let Russian or Jap, whichever one captures me, forget that little fact. There's no danger of my being hung as a spy, for I have my passport and credentials, and the worst they can do, when they've made their investigation, is to fire me out. All this is supposing I actually reach one 'firing-line' or the other. I've sat round in Tokio and looked at lanterns and spidery letters until I'm tired of it. The _Bulletin_ sent me out here to get news, and I'm not going to disappoint the old man." The day passed pleasantly enough, with stories, talk of old times and discussions of war incidents. The routine duties of naval life filled the intervals in the conversation. Late in the afternoon the officers missed their jolly companion, and enquired for him, but no one knew where he was. As evening came on they realised that the daring young reporter had kept his word and left them, it was impossible to ascertain when or by what means. "I hope he won't get into serious trouble," said the commander anxiously. "Oh, Larkin can take care of himself," replied Liddon, who had joined in the useless search. "He has been through one war, besides innumerable scrapes in which he came out on top. That's why the _Bulletin_ chose him for this service." "Evening colours!" sang one bugle after another, on the war-ships; and all hands stood with bared heads while the flags fluttered down from staff and peak. Shortly afterward a dull boom sounded across the waters of the bay. But little attention was paid to it by the men on the _Osprey_, such disturbances being of daily occurrence. That shot, however, meant much to Fred Larkin. About half an hour before he was missed, that afternoon, he had slipped over the ship's side into a Chinese sampan, or small fishing-boat, which had come alongside to dispose of its fare of fish. Fred tossed a coin to the Chinaman who was seated in the stern and pulled a broad piece of matting over himself in the bottom of the boat. All this was done in less time than it takes to tell it. If any of the _Osprey's_ jackies saw it, he said nothing. The sympathy of a sailor always goes with a runaway, whatever the reason for the escape may be. The owner of the sampan, understanding from a gesture of his unexpected passenger that the latter wished to reach the shore without detection, immediately cast off his painter and worked his small craft skilfully and swiftly toward the docks of Chefoo. As soon as the _Osprey_ was hidden by another hull--that of a British man-of-war--Larkin threw off the matting gladly enough and sat up. Presently he caught sight of a large junk, just hoisting its sails. It was heavily loaded, though the character of its freight could not be ascertained. Fred pointed to the junk, and the oarsman turned his boat toward it. A moment later he was alongside. "Where are you bound?" he called out to the skipper. Fortunately the latter could understand English. "Port Arthur," he replied, but not loudly. Fred held up a coin. The man nodded, and the correspondent jumped on board, taking in his hand the small leathern gripsack he had brought from home. The junk proved to be coal-laden, and the captain (and owner), having made sure that no Japanese vessels were in sight, was about to make a dash for Port Arthur, where he knew he would obtain high rates for his cargo. It soon appeared that he had underrated the watchfulness of the blockaders, for within less than an hour from leaving port the men on the junk perceived a torpedo-boat destroyer bearing down on them. The skipper calculated his chances of safe return, and decided to "keep all on" for Port Arthur. In twenty minutes the black hull of the pursuer could be plainly made out, and soon after the sound of a gun was heard. The Chinamen working the junk got as far down out of danger as possible, in their clumsy craft, and Fred followed suit. He had no desire to be killed or maimed, nor did he wish to be captured and sent back to Tokio. He was beginning to despair of the successful issue of his adventure, when a shout from the sailors called his attention to an object dead ahead. It was a column of dense black smoke arising from the sea in the direction of Port Arthur. A cheer rang out from the Chinamen, as they perceived the smoke. There could be no doubt that it arose from a Russian war-ship, coming out under full head of steam to meet the destroyer. Again the Japanese gun spoke, and this time the shot struck the water within a few feet of the junk. "They've got our range," said Fred to himself grimly. "Trust the Japs for scientific work, when it comes to firing! I might as well improve the time, though!" And drawing his note-book from his pocket he began to take notes. The junk kept on its course, foaming through the water under pressure of her great sail until the lee rail almost went under. Clouds had arisen in the west and it was nearly dark. A search-light on the mainland flared out suddenly, and a broad ray wavered over the waves until it picked up the Japanese boat, now within less than a mile of the fleeing junk. A deep boom sounded ahead. The Russian had at last spoken, and a big lump of steel swirled through the gloom, over the great triangular sail. The Chinese craft was between two fires. The Japs shrewdly kept her in line with themselves and the enemy, so that the latter dared not fire low. The destroyer fired steadily and fiercely, hulling the junk more than once. It was evident that a crisis was at hand. Crash! A solid six-pound shot struck the stern of the labouring _White Dragon_, knocking her rudder to bits and killing the skipper, who had remained bravely at the helm. The junk yawed wildly and fell off before the wind. The sailors shrieked and ran to and fro, calling upon their gods to help them. Another shot, and the mast went by the board. But the Russian cruiser was now close at hand and engaged the Japanese boat savagely. Fred was watching the fight and looking for a chance to hail the Russian, when a splinter struck him and he was knocked headlong into the sea. CHAPTER XIII. WYNNIE MAKES A BLUNDER. Edith and Wynnie found Tokio rather lonely after the two young men had gone. It was the loveliest season of the Japan year; the trees were pink with blossoms and every street and square carpeted with fallen petals. Save in the government offices and at the railway stations there was little outward sign of war. All over the empire almond-eyed girls and women were working quietly for the soldiers, arranging bandages, picking lint, preparing scrap-books for the hospitals; but this made no stir. The rickshaw coolies pattered along the city streets and groups of strangers clustered about the shop-windows as in the time of peace. Now and then the tap of a drum was heard, and a column of dark-faced little soldiers passed at quickstep, their faces set with stern resolve, the sunrise flag floating before them. For a moment the crowds turned to look, then returned to their money-making or sight-seeing or shopping. Señor Bellardo became more attentive to the Blacks on the very day when the midshipman and correspondent sailed away in the _Zafiro_. He attached himself naïvely to their party, even when they went to the War Office to ask for the latest news. Larkin and Bob Starr, in pursuance of their purpose of showing their friends everything worth seeing in Tokio, had introduced the American girls, as well as Colonel Selborne, to the high government officials, who had welcomed the strangers with utmost courtesy. About a week after the departure of the young men the Blacks called at the War Office, Bellardo following meekly in their train. As it happened, no one was in the room but the orderlies, who gave the party to understand that their superiors had been called out, but would return soon. "Oh, we can't wait," said Edith impatiently. "But it's our last visit, really a call of ceremony, girls," protested their adopted uncle, as he called himself. "It will hardly be courteous to leave without seeing one or both of these gentlemen who have been so polite to us." "I'll write a line and leave it for them," said Wynnie impulsively. "We've lots to do, Uncle, and we can't waste time, you know, in our last day in Tokio. They may not come back for hours." She took the chair of one of the officials, looked about for pen and ink, and began writing hurriedly on a blank sheet which lay on the top of a pile of documents. The orderlies gazed in bewilderment at the pretty vision of the girl in a picture hat, occupying the chair of their venerated head of department. Before Wynnie could finish her note, however, the owner of the chair appeared, with profuse apologies for his delay. Wynnie crumpled up the slip of paper upon which she was writing, and dropped it into the waste-basket as she rose to pay her respects to the war official. The rest of the party advanced and joined in the mutual farewells and regrets. As they stood by the desk, Edith was surprised to see the Spaniard stoop, take Wynnie's half-written note from the basket, and bestow it in an inner pocket. "How sentimental!" she thought, rather contemptuously. She started to speak to her sister about it, on the way home, but something in the street took her attention, and she forgot all about it. The Blacks had expected to leave next morning for Yokohama, where they were to go on board a steamer for Hawaii and San Francisco. In the disturbed state of affairs on the Chinese coast, Colonel Selborne had concluded not to risk inconvenience or danger, and to give up the rest of the trip. Early in July the whole party would be at home once more. But their plans were interrupted by an unforeseen and astounding incident. It was no less than the detention of all four by the Japanese Government. They had hardly reached the hotel, on their return from the War Office, when a dapper little gentleman stepped up to the Colonel and said a few words in a low tone. "What!" exclaimed the American. "Impossible. We start for home to-morrow morning. Edith," he added, turning to his young guests, who were just behind with Señor Bellardo, "this man says we are not to leave the hotel till further notice. Special orders from the War Office!" "Why, what can be the reason? What has happened?" The Japanese officer shrugged his shoulders and murmured an apology. "A document of great value has been lost," he said. "It is necessary to detain every one who has visited the office during the afternoon. It is mere form. Honourably do not be annoyed--a thousand regrets for your inconvenience!" Colonel Selborne understood Japanese methods well enough to know there was a hand of iron under the velvet glove. He submitted with what grace he could muster. "Search our rooms," he said. "It is absurd to suppose----" "Ah," interrupted the emissary from the War Office eagerly, "we suppose nothing. It is mere form. To-night, to-morrow, next day, you will surely be at liberty to depart. If you are put to extra expense by remaining longer than you had planned the Government will repay all." At the Colonel's urgent request the rooms were searched, and of course nothing was found. The little man withdrew, walking backward and apologising over and over; but he did not leave the hotel. He sent a message to the Office and informed the Blacks that nothing further could be done until the next day. It was ten o'clock in the evening when the recollection of Wynnie's half-written note flashed across Edith's mind. She almost flew to her uncle's door and rapped. The good man had not retired; he was too much annoyed and troubled to sleep. "Uncle, Uncle, I've something important to tell you. It may be a clue!" And she described Wynnie's act of throwing away the piece of paper and its subsequent recovery by the Spaniard. "I thought he just wanted a bit of Wyn.'s writing," she said, her lip curling a little. "It may be there was something deeper in it." "But the paper was perfectly blank; there was nothing on it but two or three lines I had written when General Kafuro came in," said Wynnie, who had joined them. "Did you look on the other side of the sheet?" demanded Colonel Selborne. "Not once! And it may have been the very document they miss! Oh, what a foolish, foolish girl I was! I saw the paper lying there on a heap of other sheets, and supposed--oh, the General must have turned it over so that no one would see it when he was called out, expecting to return in a minute! That was it, I know it was--and it's all my fault!" Wynnie hid her face on her uncle's shoulder. "There, there, dear, it was a natural enough mistake, and you really meant to do a kind and courteous thing in writing our regrets," said the Colonel, patting the brown head. "Do you know what the missing paper was, sir?" asked Edith. "It was a sketch of a portion of the fortifications at Sasebo, with specifications below--all in very fine handwriting and pale ink. I must see the officials at once," added Colonel Selborne, looking for his hat. "Why not hunt up Señor Bellardo first?" suggested Edith eagerly. "Now I think of it, he must have left us just as you were first notified, and he didn't come near us the whole evening." "I noticed that," said Wynnie, "and was glad of it. I can't bear him, and never could." "Do you remember how Mr. Larkin looked at him?" "Yes, and he said----" "I can't stop, my dears," broke in the Colonel. "I'll enquire for the Spaniard at once and find him if he is in the hotel. Do you know where his lodgings are in Tokio?" Neither of them knew. Singularly enough, the man had never mentioned his lodging-place. He always dined at the hotel. Colonel Selborne found the Japanese official on the verandah, and at once took him into his confidence. They made enquiries and looked into every public room in the hotel. Bellardo was not there. "Leave the matter now with me," said the secret-service man quietly. "My men are near, and I will continue the search. In the morning you shall know the result, and I hope to be able to relieve you from further surveillance." Early the next morning the report was made by the chagrined but ever-polite officer. The bird had flown. Señor Bellardo's lodgings were known--as were those of every stranger in the city--to the police. They were visited before midnight, and found empty. The police in every seaport were notified by telephone and ordered to arrest a tall, well-dressed man, claiming to be a Spaniard, with dark complexion and black beard and moustache. His clothes were described, as well as a certain shifty look in his eyes. His bearing was that of one who had been trained in a military or naval school. Colonel Selborne and his party made affidavits before the American consul, telling everything they knew about the matter. As General Kafuro remembered leaving the paper on the very pile from which Wynnie had taken her sheet, there seemed to be no doubt that Edith's story accounted for the theft. Other papers of value had been missed from time to time since the war broke out, and it was believed at the Office that the so-called Spaniard was a dangerous spy in the pay of the Russians. General Kafuro congratulated Ethelwyn on having forced the man's hand, and, at the request of the consul, declared the American party free to leave Tokio whenever they wished. Colonel Selborne lost no time in availing himself of the permission and, with his wife and the two young ladies, sailed from Yokohama two days later. On the evening of the same day, when the _City of Pekin_ was heading eastward with the Americans on board, a small sailboat put out from a village on the west coast of the island. Besides the sailors it had one passenger--a gentleman with smooth face, light complexion, and red hair. The boatmen had agreed, for a large sum, to land him at the nearest point in Korea, unless they should previously fall in with a Russian war-ship. The latter contingency actually came to pass, as the boat was driven northward by a southerly storm, and picked up by one of the Vladivostock squadron, then cruising for prizes. From Vladivostock, where he was safely landed on the following day, the red-haired gentleman proceeded by rail to Harbin Junction, and then southward to Port Arthur, now nearly cut off by Nogi's troops. Trains, however, were still running regularly between the beleaguered port and Moukden. Strangely enough, the hair of the mysterious gentleman was now rapidly turning dark. By the time he reached Port Arthur, it was quite black. A stubbly beard and moustache, too, began to show themselves on his sallow face. The man spoke Russian brokenly, and used English when he could. Never a Spanish word came from his lips, and the Barcelona estates proved veritable castles in Spain, fading from his memory. As the man passed up the street of Port Arthur, under escort of a corporal's guard, he laid his hand triumphantly on his breast. In an inner pocket, beneath it, reposed a sheet of rice paper, on one side of which were scrawled a few lines, in a girlish handwriting. On the other were drawings of moats, counterscarps, and a medley of fortifications, followed by vertical lines of delicate Japanese characters. "Take me at once to General Stoessel's headquarters," said the sallow-faced man. "I have important information for him. Here is my pass from the War Office at St. Petersburg." CHAPTER XIV. THE ATTACK OF THE "OCTOPUS". Since the Stone Age, when long-haired men, half brutes, fought with battle-clubs made by lashing a rudely shaped lump of stone in the cleft end of a club, and with arrows and javelins tipped with hammered flint, through all the successive generations of fighters, human ingenuity has been exercised to its utmost to devise new implements of warfare, and new defences to protect against them. A long stride was taken when the first elaborately carved, bell-mouthed cannon roared at Cressy and Poictiers; another when iron balls were substituted for stone, and still a third when the idea flashed upon some belligerent inventor to make his iron shot hollow and transform them into explosive shells and death-dealing shrapnel. From shells to torpedoes was an easy transition, and the torpedo-boat became necessary, duly followed by the torpedo-boat destroyer. At the same time the armour of the largest fighting ships was increased in thickness from two or three inches to a foot, over the vital parts of the battle-ship and cruiser, the primary batteries of which now included huge rifled guns throwing a steel projectile of well-nigh half a ton's weight. The torpedo is a terrible but uncertain weapon. The modern search-light makes daylight of the darkest night, and renders the approach of a torpedo-boat within striking distance exceedingly difficult. If detected, the boat is doomed, for a concentration of fire from the larger ship beats the necessarily small assailant to death in a moment. Moreover it is by no means sure that the torpedo will do its work when launched at the enemy, even if it succeeds in piercing the wire net that is suspended to entangle it at a safe distance from the hull of the vessel attacked. Summing up all the obstacles to successful torpedo attack, it may be reckoned that _only one in twelve_ reaches its mark, explodes, and accomplishes its purpose. It remained for the twentieth century to produce a terrible fighting-machine--often foretold but never perfected until the Russo-Japanese war--which should approach the enemy unseen, discharge its torpedo with careful aim at the most vulnerable part of its huge adversary, and, while the latter was floating in fancied security on the open sea, strike a blow which should be instantly fatal. Such is the marvellous submarine torpedo-boat of this day and generation. The idea of a boat that shall move under water and discharge its missile at a hostile ship is by no means a new one. In 1776 a young man named David Bushnell, of New Haven, Connecticut, constructed a submarine boat resembling two "turtle-backs" screwed together. She was so small that only one man could occupy her. Air was supplied to last half an hour. The "crew," who was expected to work by hand the propelling screw, was also supposed to be able to pump in and out water ballast to enable her to descend to the desired depth, to maintain the craft on an even keel when submerged, and to detach two hundred pounds of ballast weights in order to rise again to the surface. An explosive mine containing one hundred and fifty pounds of gunpowder was to be towed alongside until the bottom of the enemy's ship was reached, when, the mine having been fastened to the hull, a clock-work arrangement, set by the operator, would explode the charge. Nothing practical resulted from the young Yale man's scheme, but it is evident that his boat was the original model for every submarine torpedo-boat which has since been invented. In 1800 Robert Fulton, turning his attention from steam engines for a while, modelled a boat which was a considerable improvement upon Bushnell's, but, like the latter, failed in practical use. During our Civil War several essays were made at submarine warfare, the Confederates taking the initiative. One of these submarines actually blew up a Union man-of-war, but was itself demolished, with its crew of nine men. Every great navy in the world now reckons a number of submarines among its available forces. One of the most dangerous and powerful of these deadly destroyers at the time of the breaking out of the Japanese war was the _Octopus_, launched at night, with great secrecy, near the naval station of Sasebo. Her length was eighty feet, diameter eleven feet, displacement (when submerged) one hundred and thirty-nine tons. When she was running light, or "awash," the twin-screws, operated by triple expansion engines worked by steam, gave a speed of fifteen knots, with a minimum endurance, at this speed, of twelve hours. To drive the craft when submerged a battery of storage cells supplied an electric current to operate motors sufficient to give a speed of eight knots for at least six hours. Her armament consisted of five automobile torpedoes and two expulsion tubes, which opened through her black prow like the nostrils of some hideous sea-monster. She was able to sink to a depth of twenty feet below the surface within one minute after the order to dive was given. When she was submerged three feet the pilot obtained a view over the water by means of a _camera lucida_ in a tube that projected above the surface. When Jules Verne wrote _Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea_, in 1873, his _Nautilus_ was deemed by the reader untaught in naval constructive history a wild creation of the author's fancy, like his passenger-car shot to the moon from an enormous cannon. To-day there is not a naval commander who would not look grave and consider an immediate withdrawal of his ship when told an enemy's submarine was cruising in his neighbourhood. In the face of open danger, visible to eye and ear, no officer of the navy blenches. The submarine is out of sight. It may be within a hundred yards of the ship when the report is brought. A man who will stand up against a wild beast or a band of savages without a tremor will turn white and shriek with terror if, when he is in the water, the cry of "Shark!" is raised. The shark betrays its presence by its black dorsal fin above the surface of the sea. When the fin disappears the danger increases, becomes terrible; the fear of the swimmer in the vicinity of that black, unseen peril overmasters him. The submarine sinks, like the shark, to attack. Its gleaming back, surmounted by the small, round conning tower, disappears amid a swirl of foam. A single staff at the stern betrays its presence for a moment; then that, too, glides beneath the surface. Not a man on the battle-ship but shudders at the thought of that hidden monster under the waves, driven by the skill and hatred of the human brain. Only tried and absolutely reliable men are chosen for the crew of the submarine. They must be ready to endure extreme discomfort and hardship and must hold their lives in their hands. A well-aimed shot from a war-ship, or a defect in the delicate machinery of the boat, and all is over. A submarine never is wrecked; it sinks, with all on board; it is obliterated. The Japanese have been among the first to realise the terrible effectiveness of this formidable engine of war. No one outside a handful of men near the Mikado's throne knows how many submarine torpedo-boats are included in the Japanese navy, nor where they are stationed. Japanese naval officers and men form an ideal body from which the crews of these boats are to be chosen. In conflict with the enemy, whether on land or at sea, they reckon their lives as nothing. They seek eagerly for a glorious death at the hands of the foe, and when that is denied them and defeat is inevitable they prefer to die by their own weapons, or by leaping into the sea, rather than prolong what would be to them a life of disgrace. Oto Owari was appointed, on the 11th of April in this eventful year, to the command of the submarine _Octopus_, then docked, under a concealing roof, at Sasebo. Three nights later he went on board with a picked crew at midnight, and the _Octopus_, first gliding out of the dock, and gathering speed until she reached open water, suddenly stopped her engines and began to sink, inch by inch. In one minute a dark spot on the sea, and a patch of foam, indicated the top of her conning tower; and a moment later she was out of sight. In the act of sinking, her prow was toward the west. Early on the morning of April 13th, the Japanese fleet made a demonstration in the direction of Port Arthur. Always ready to accept a challenge while there was a shot in the locker, the Russians steamed out to meet them. There was but a brief exchange of battle courtesies. The Port Arthur ships were far out-numbered and out-metalled, and Admiral Makaroff, on the _Petropavlovsk_, signalled for his squadron to retire. The _Petropavlovsk_ was a first-class battle-ship of about 11,000 tons, with heavy armament of twelve-inch guns and secondary batteries. She had on board the admiral, the regular crew of 650 men, the Grand Duke Cyril, and, as a special guest, the famous painter Verestchagin. Makaroff, with several officers of high rank, having satisfied themselves that the ship was in no immediate danger, proceeding as she now was under good headway, toward her home port, with the Japanese fleet hull down in the offing, went below to breakfast. The Grand Duke and the great artist remained on the bridge with the commander of the flagship and its lieutenant. They scanned through their glasses the far-off pursuers, and the frowning forts on Golden Hill, and congratulated each other on the escape of the Russian squadron from the danger of annihilation by an immensely superior force. Not a man of them guessed the near presence of a peril, unseen beneath those waves, dimpling in the morning sunlight, more terrible than the whole array of Japanese battle-ships on the horizon. Verestchagin, then the greatest living painter of death on the battle-field, knew not that Death was at that moment gliding toward him; that he was taking his last look at the drifting clouds, the rippling sea, the blue hills of Manchuria. The _Petropavlovsk_ sped onward, but faster, beneath the waves, sped the _Octopus_, guided by the fierce eyes, the strong hand, the glowing heart and brain of the small brown man erstwhile cabin steward of the _Osprey_. Suddenly the great battle-ship quivered from stem to stern, as if she had struck upon a rock. The sea rose on the starboard side in a tremendous wave, and a roar like a broadside of a frigate filled the air, followed by a rattling, crashing discharge from the magazines. A huge gap appeared in the hull of the ship. A cataract of water poured in, and slowly turning upon her side, with one great, hissing gasp the _Petropavlovsk_ sank. The other ships of the squadron hastened to the spot, and almost before the fighting-tops of the battle-ship disappeared their boats were foaming across the water to pick up the survivors from the ill-fated vessel. The Grand Duke was saved, as were the lieutenant, two other officers, and about fifty sailors. Every other man went to the bottom. Never again would the guns of Russia boom out their noisy salute to the gallant admiral; and Verestchagin had made his last great study of Death. [Illustration: THE SINKING OF THE PETROPAVLOVSK.] CHAPTER XV. UNDER THE RED CROSS. When Fred Larkin regained consciousness, after being hurled into the sea, he found himself lying on a large table covered with a white cloth. Around him stood a number of big, burly men with black beards and stern but not unkindly faces. He knew at once that they must be Russians, and (having applied himself vigorously to the study of their language on his outward voyage from San Francisco) addressed himself to the most amiable-looking of the lot. "Where am I?" he asked, in very poor Russian. The man did not reply, but said, "Do you speak French?" "_Oui!_" replied Larkin, glad to know that he could converse in a tongue much more familiar to him than the former. He repeated his question, adding, as a twinge of pain shot through his shoulder, "I am hurt." "Yes," said the other; "you were struck by a splinter. We picked you up from the water and brought you here. You are English?" "American. Am I in Port Arthur, then?" "You are near Port Arthur, at Laouwei. What were you doing in the Chinese junk which was sunk by the Japanese?" demanded the Russian more sternly. "I am a newspaper correspondent," said Fred boldly, though in a weak voice. His wound pained him more and more, and he rightly guessed that the collar-bone was fractured. "I have been in Tokio, and could not reach the front, so I crossed over to your side, where, they tell me, the press receives more consideration. My credentials are in my inside pocket." The officer--for such Fred deemed him to be--smiled grimly, but made no comment upon this speech. "You must be taken to the hospital in the city, where they will set your broken bone," he said. "Meanwhile you will pardon the discourtesy of covering your face." A word of command was given, and a light cloth laid over the reporter's head. He was then placed gently upon a stretcher and carried on board some kind of a vessel. Before long Fred heard the clamour of a wharf crowd; then felt himself lifted again and borne through the streets of a city which he knew must be Port Arthur, up a rather steep hill, to a building where he was deposited on a cot beside two other men. The cloth was now removed, and the first object which met his eye was the kind, good face of a young woman, on whose arm was bound a strip bearing a red cross. With a feeling that he was in a safe refuge he meekly took the medicine held to his lips and fell into a deep sleep. Between his sleeping and waking, the collar-bone was set that afternoon. Fred only remembered a confused sense of gentle hands and rough voices, of the smell of chloroform, of a general battered and "want-to-cry" feeling; and, at last, of utter abandonment of restfulness. The next morning he was weak and a little feverish, but he felt like a new man. In three weeks, the surgeon told him, he would be about again. Fred made use of his first returning strength to cable to the _Bulletin_ and ask for instructions. The censor passed the message without cutting. The reply was terse: "Remain Russian army." The time passed pretty heavily with the disabled correspondent, during his convalescence at the hospital. From the window of his room he could look down on the harbour and see the Russian war-ships. His two room-mates, Japanese officers from one of the stone-laden hulks sunk in a vain attempt to block the channel in Hobson fashion, had been sent to prison soon after his arrival. From time to time he obtained scraps of information from other patients, from the hospital surgeon-staff, and from his gentle little nurse, Marie Kopofsky, a native of Moscow. Not "at the Czar's command," but of her own free will, she had volunteered, as had hundreds of Japanese women on their side of the sea, to nurse the sick and wounded at the front, under the banner of the Red Cross. On the day before he left the hospital Fred was walking idly through the corridors to his room, when his ear caught the sound of an unpleasantly familiar voice. It recalled the prison at Santiago, where he had been confined at the close of his daring scouting expedition during the Spanish War. It recalled, too, strangely enough, the bright days he had recently passed at Tokio. Suddenly a light broke upon his mind. "Stevens!" he exclaimed under his breath. "That mean traitor who tried to bribe me to betray the secrets of the United States navy to the Spanish--he and Señor Bellardo are the same man! It was the beard and the dark complexion that fooled me! What tricks is he up to now, I wonder?"[3] Fred turned away abruptly, before Stevens caught sight of him, and entering his private room closed the door. "I may not be here long," he muttered, "but while I am I will keep an eye on that fellow." The next day he received his discharge from the hospital, and obtained lodgings at a respectable hotel near by. As soon as possible he presented his credentials to General Stoessel, and received a newspaper pass, with the instructions of the Russian government governing war correspondents at the front. They were, in brief, as follows: Rule I. Correspondents must not interfere in any way with the preparations for war, or the plans of the staff, or divulge military secrets of advantage to the enemy, such as actions in which forts are damaged or guns lost. II. No criticism of members of the General Staff, Corps, or Division Staff. The report of an engagement must be limited to a simple statement of fact. III. Correspondents must not transmit unconfirmed information about the enemy, such as rumours of victory, or threatening movements, which may cause public uneasiness in Russia. IV. All correspondents without credentials will be turned back. Those given permission to join the forces are in honour bound to observe the regulations, with the penalty of expulsion without warning for any violation. They can go anywhere in the field, and are barred only from the Russian fleet. "H'm," said Fred, as he read over the printed rules, "fair enough, though 'a simple statement of fact' is hard lines on a flowery writer. If my friends the Japs had been as liberal, I shouldn't have got into Port Arthur in a hurry." He soon made the acquaintance of two or three other newspaper men from European capitals, and managed to get a few good cables through the censor without their being mangled beyond recognition. He soon discovered Stevens's lodgings, where he learned that the traitor had the entrée of Staff headquarters, and was known as Henry Burley, of Liverpool. For the present Fred could see no spoke to put in his wheel, for the interests of the United States were, as far as he knew, in no way involved in the man's character or actions. Still, as Fred soliloquised, "he would bear watching." The war proceeded with unabated vigour. During the second week of Fred's enforced idleness another sea-tragedy took place in the Yellow Sea, off Korea. The Japanese transport _Kinshiu Maru_ was proceeding from Nagasaki to the Korean coast, with ammunition, coal, supplies, and infantry. In the middle of the night several large ships loomed up through the haze. Supposing them to be Togo's fleet, the _Kinshiu Maru_ signalled, "I am bringing you coal." What was her commander's dismay to read the answer, twinkling out in red and white Ardois lights, "Stop instantly!" At the same moment the cry ran through the transport, "The Russians! the Russians!" "Surrender!" signalled Admiral Yeszen, from his flagship. It was the Vladivostock squadron of formidable cruisers, released at last from the ice which for months had both protected and fettered them. Instead of surrendering, the crew of the _Kinshiu Maru_ began to lower their boats in mad haste, hoping to escape in the darkness; a Russian steam cutter captured every boat but one, which was afterward picked up by a Japanese schooner, many miles from the scene of the disaster. The Russians boarded the transport, and found about one hundred and fifty soldiers, who barricaded themselves in the cabin and refused to surrender. Withdrawing to their ships, the victors began to shell the doomed hulk. The Japanese soldiers swarmed on deck and discharged their rifles in the direction of the foe, shouting old Samurai battle-songs. Pierced and shattered, the transport settled lower and lower in the water. At last a Whitehead torpedo, exploding against the ship, tore a great hole in her hull amidships, and she plunged into the depths of the sea. Up to the last moment, when the waves rolled over them, the soldiers shouted their defiance and steadily loaded and fired. With two hundred prisoners, the Russian squadron returned to Vladivostock. On land the Japanese advanced steadily. Gradually the long, throttling fingers extended from east and west toward the railroad that meant life or death to the great fortress. Then came the battle of the Yalu, to the east. The river was crossed, the Japanese poured into Manchuria, and the position of the Russian forces on the Liaotung peninsula became still more critical. Supplies were crowded into the beleaguered port, and non-combatants filled the northward-bound trains to overflowing. Early in May it became evident that with one more clutch of the relentless hand of Nippon all communication between Port Arthur and the rest of the world would be cut off. Fred Larkin saw that he must decide whether to move out at once or remain virtually a prisoner in the town. Most of the other correspondents had already gone. The instructions from the home office were ambiguous. He tried to cable again, but the wires were pre-empted for military despatches in those stirring days. He decided, reluctantly, to abandon Port Arthur and join the Russian army now entrenched a few miles north, on the line of the railroad. On the evening before the day which he had set for his departure he was strolling about the large square where a military band was playing national airs, when he bumped against a stranger who was hurrying in the opposite direction. Both paused, and their eyes met. "Larkin!" "Stevens!" "Hush!" said the latter, looking nervously over his shoulder. "My name is Burley. Why are you here? When did you leave Tokio?" "At about the same time when you decamped with the War Office documents," said Fred easily. "Look here, old fellow," he continued with assumed cordiality, "there's no need for us to quarrel in a foreign camp. You've got something on hand now, or I'm mistaken. Can't you let me in?" "You used pretty hard words to me the last time we met," said the other gloomily. "It wasn't your fault that I wasn't strung up." "Nor yours that I wasn't," assented Fred cheerfully, "so we're square on that score. But this is a different matter. It's all Japanese or Russian over here, and your Uncle Samuel hasn't a finger in the pie. Now you must have made a good thing out of your Tokio observations, and the presumption is that, having the confidence of our friend Stoessel and his staff, you are about ready to face about." "Perhaps I am," said Stevens, or Burley, again looking about him. "And _if_ I am, I need one good man I can depend on, to help me in the job. It's too big for one to handle, and the city is so full of spies that I wouldn't trust a native round the corner. But how do I know you will do your part, eh?" "Try me and see," said Larkin with great firmness. "All right, I'll try you." They were now walking through one of the side streets, which was but dimly lighted. "Here are my lodgings. Come in and we'll talk it over." He opened the outer door with a pass-key, and Fred followed him up two flights of narrow stairs. "Here we are," said Burley, opening a door. "Step right in, and I'll light up." Larkin entered, but he was hardly over the threshold when he was pushed headlong to the floor, and heard the door closed and locked behind him. A low laugh sounded from the entry. "'Help me out,' will you, you puppy?" whispered Burley through the keyhole. "You'll never help anybody out, in this world. Within ten minutes this house will be a heap of rubbish, and you will be in kingdom come. Good-bye! I'll report you at home!" His steps echoed down the stairway, and then the house was still. FOOTNOTE: [3] Readers of _Cleared for Action_ will remember the previous career of the renegade Stevens. He was a graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis, and subsequently turned against his country. In an attempt to betray the Spaniards he was detected, arrested, and thrown into prison at Santiago just before the fall of that city. CHAPTER XVI. THE LAST TRAIN FROM PORT ARTHUR. Fred Larkin's first move, on finding himself trapped, was a perfectly natural one. He scrambled to his feet and rushed to the door. It took him some time to find the knob, in the darkness, and on turning it and pulling with all his might he was not surprised to discover that it refused to yield. "It's a bad scrape," said the reporter to himself, breathing hard with his exertions, "but I've been in worse ones, unless that threat of blowing up the house is carried out." He had been fumbling in his pocket, and now drew from it a box of wax vestas, one of which he struck. The light disclosed a small room, perfectly bare. A glance at the heavy door convinced him that it was useless to attempt a speedy escape in that direction. There were two low windows, both with the sashes fastened down and protected by outside shutters of wood. Fred made short work of one of the sashes, smashing it to bits with his foot. He then unhasped the shutters and peered out. The night was cloudy and he could discover nothing beyond the fact that there was a sheer drop of at least twenty-five feet to a sort of yard, which might be paved with brick or lumbered up with stones and iron scrap, for all he could see. The buildings beyond seemed to be warehouses of some sort; not a light gleamed from a single window. He shouted with all his might for help, but none came. Although he did not believe the house would "be a heap of rubbish in ten minutes"--three of which had already elapsed--he was sufficiently in doubt to be perfectly willing to leave it at once, if there were any possible way of escape. As he stepped back into the room the flooring creaked under his foot. Lighting another wax match he found that a board was loose. He managed to get his fingers under the end, and, throwing his whole weight upward, ripped out the board. With the first for a lever, its neighbour came up easily enough. It was a cheaply built house, without a second layer beneath the surface floor. The edgewise-set planks on which the boards rested were about two feet apart. Fred did not hesitate a moment, but stamped hard upon the upper side of the ceiling of the apartment beneath his own. His foot went through the lath and plaster with a smash and a cloud of dust. Picking up the broken boards, he enlarged the hole, and, as soon as the dust cleared away, peered through the opening. The room below was as dark as his own. He "sounded" with the longest floor-board at his disposal, and was gratified to find that he could "touch bottom" at about nine feet depth. Without losing further time he crawled through the hole, hung off from the stringers and dropped. Recovering himself from the shock of alighting in the dark, Fred hastily produced another vesta, in order to survey his new quarters. The room was entirely unfurnished, like the one above. In one respect, however, it differed from the apartment in which he had been so unceremoniously installed: the door was ajar! In a minute more Larkin stood on the pavement outside, and in another, having taken a careful survey of the premises, he was hurrying away to his own lodgings, which he reached in safety, congratulating himself on the happy issue of his evening's adventure. Martin Stevens, like all evil-doers, was an unhappy man. For weeks and months he would toil at a self-imposed task, to earn money and fame at the expense of principles, and when he seemed to himself to have attained absolute success, and felt the crackle of his basely earned bank-notes in his pocket,--he was miserable. The luscious fruit he had so long looked forward to eating was a Dead Sea apple, crumbling to ashes at the first bite. After his narrow escape from death at the hands of the Spaniards in Santiago, he had engaged in various questionable enterprises on the Continent, where a natural aptitude for languages soon enabled him to converse fluently in German, French, Italian, and Russian. He was already master of Spanish, as we have seen, and he had received a fine education in applied mathematics, physics, and navigation at the United States Naval Academy. Tall and rather well formed, carrying himself well, and conversing easily in the language of the country where he desired to exercise his peculiar calling--that of a professional spy--he readily obtained admittance to many councils and offices closed to the general public. He had correspondents in every court in Europe, as well as in Japan and at Pekin. When Stevens left Tokio in disguise, with half a dozen important papers in his breast pocket, he felt that he had achieved the crowning glory of his life. The documents were indeed gladly received at the Russian headquarters, but the man was despised and distrusted. The bluff, gallant Stoessel paid the spy a large sum without hesitation; but, beyond suggesting another expedition--perhaps to the camp of General Nogi's forces, or to Admiral Togo's fleet--he had nothing more to say to him. As the high-minded Russian turned to his staff-officers, whose bronzed, manly faces bore witness to their honourable service under the Czar, Stevens sneaked off, his face sallower than ever, to cash the official draft and to gnash his teeth at the cold, contemptuous treatment he had met with when his secrets were all divulged. In this mood, plotting a new system of espionage upon the Russians, whom he hated, he had met Larkin. He had already recognised the reporter in Tokio, and had thought himself well rid of him when he fled to Port Arthur. No sight could have been more unwelcome to him than that of Larkin's merry, honest, shrewd countenance, rising before him like Banquo's ghost, when least expected. Near Stevens's lodgings was an empty house of which he had the key, and in which he had already met representatives of that terrible class of men who are now found in all parts of the civilised world, but most where the double eagle of the Russian flag proclaims the despotic rule of St. Petersburg--the Nihilists. Revolving in his mind various plans for getting rid of Larkin without actually committing murder, he determined, on the spur of the moment, to lock him up over night at this secret place of rendezvous. He even thought vaguely of blowing up the building with a bomb, which one of his friends would supply on demand. He shrank, however, from this extreme measure, which would put his own head in peril, and contented himself with giving the war correspondent a good scare, out of pure malice, and with so disposing of his person that he would be kept out of the way over night. He had no doubt that Larkin would gain his release in some way the next morning, but there would be time, meanwhile, to don a new disguise and perfect arrangements for leaving the city. How he failed, we have seen. Fred Larkin was not an easy man to scare, or to keep within four walls against his will. The next morning, accordingly, both spy and reporter were at the railway station, eager to take the first train for the north. There was a dense crowd of refugees struggling for places, and neither of the two men was conscious of the other's presence on board when the guard's whistle sounded at last, and the long train--the last train for many a weary month, as it proved--moved out of Port Arthur. It was six o'clock on the morning of May 6th. The sun had burst through the clouds which had rendered the preceding night so gloomy, and the country around the city stretched out on either side of the railroad in all the loveliness of spring. Fields and hillsides flushed with blossoms of almond and apricot, and opened fair reaches of greensward as the train rolled past. In sheltered nooks, by the banks of dancing streamlets, nestled those little Chinese villages which, however squalid upon close acquaintance, add a picturesque touch to the Oriental landscape. All around the horizon was piled with high hills, clothed in verdure or reddish in the early sunlight where broad ledges and stretches of sandy slope had been denuded by storm and the hand of man. Larkin almost forgot the war and the hot passions that were smouldering behind the fair peaks and along the hidden valleys of Manchuria, as he gazed from the car window and thought of the Brookfield meadows in May, the little stream where he had caught his first trout, and the pine wood which sheltered the brave mayflowers and hepaticas before the winter's drifts had melted on the northern slopes and in the deeper recesses of the forest. But his musings were rudely interrupted. At the end of about two hours after leaving Port Arthur the train halted at the outpost position occupied by the Russian forces under General Fock. The peace of nature was broken by the sound of sappers and diggers at work, by commands harshly shouted, the tramping of horses, the rumble of wheels, the stir and bustle of an armed camp. On again, steadily forging northward, with the engine throwing out great clouds of black smoke from her soft-coal fuel as she climbed the up-grades; through several villages without a stop, until Kinchow was reached. A sharp lookout was now kept for Japanese cavalry, which were known to be scouring the country to the east, the main body of the invaders having already made a substantial advance from Dalny, on the eastern coast. A train had been fired upon, only the day before, at a point about forty miles north of Port Arthur. There were rumours that Japanese troops were landing in force at Port Adams, on the west coast of the peninsula, near Newchwang, and that a strong detachment had occupied Haicheng, just south of Liaoyang. The engineer pulled open the throttle, as the train struck a long, straight piece of road. The cars rocked from side to side, and cries of alarm from invalids and women were heard. The speed was frightful. Larkin clung to his seat, devoutly hoping that his journalistic career would not terminate in a smash-up on the Imperial Trans-Siberian Railroad. Just then a band of horsemen was seen galloping toward the road. They drew up sharply and could be seen to unsling their muskets. _Puff! Puff!_ No noise could be heard above the roar of the train, but the passengers were not left in doubt as to the cavalrymen's intentions. A dozen windows were shattered by bullets, while the frightened inmates of the rocking cars crouched low between the seats. With a rush and a roar the train clattered on, leaving the assailants far behind. On and on, through Newchwang, crossing bridges which were soon to be wrapped in flames, rattling over level plains, winding through narrow defiles surmounted with frowning fortifications, until at last the train rolled into the station at Liaoyang. That afternoon the railroad was crossed by the Japanese, the rails torn up, bridges burned and telegraph wires cut. Port Arthur was isolated from the world. Its next telegram would be sent out eight months later, to be recorded in the quaint characters of the Island Empire. Fred Larkin, little dreaming that his captor of the preceding evening was in the same city, at once proceeded to make himself at home. He presented his credentials at headquarters, secured lodgings, and sent off a dispatch to the _Bulletin_ that very night, describing the last train from Port Arthur and the conditions as he had found them in that city. This final portion of his telegram would have occupied about half a column of his paper. The grim censor blue-pencilled it down to eight lines and a half! CHAPTER XVII. DICK SCUPP'S ADVENTURE. "_Osprey, ordered to Chemulpo._" Hallie Rexdale read the brief announcement in the list of "navy orders, Asiatic fleet," and wondered if her Dave were summoned to new dangers. While his ship was stationed at Chefoo she felt comparatively easy about him; but Chemulpo, the port of Seoul, Korea, was almost on the firing line. To be sure, the United States was as yet in no way involved in the conflict, but suppose the Vladivostock fleet should happen to descend upon Chemulpo? Shells would fly, and the _Osprey_ could not. The obscure half-line in the newspaper recording naval movements, and overlooked by all but one in a thousand readers, carries joy or dismay to many a wife and sweetheart, for whom the interest in the whole paper centres in that one announcement. Hallie tore up the envelope she had already addressed, and added a few lines to her letter, tearfully bidding--bless her heart!--her gallant commander to "be careful." The officers and crew of the gunboat were glad to receive the order, when it reached them late in May. They were heartily tired of Chefoo, and any change was hailed with delight. They foresaw, moreover, that before long the _Osprey_ would be ordered to Cavite, there to dock for repairs and the cleaning up her weedy hull needed. From Chefoo to Chemulpo the distance is about four hundred miles. Rexdale consulted his charts and reckoned that thirty-six hours would be needed for the trip. Word was passed that all liberty on shore was at an end, and every man was supposed to be on board before four bells that same evening. "Supposed to be"--but the commander knew that his crew had recently been diminished, and he felt sore on that particular subject. Three men, during the preceding fortnight, had deserted, presumably to join the Russian navy, which was offering generous inducements to new recruits. It is reckoned, at the present day, that nearly ten per cent. of men--not all "enlisted"--in the United States Navy sooner or later desert. At Morning Quarters, on the day when the _Osprey_ was to weigh anchor and sail for Chemulpo, one more man was missing--no other than our old friend Dick Scupp. He had been one of the shore party of the preceding day, and in some way his absence from mess had been overlooked at night. One of his mates remembered seeing him enter a saloon in Chefoo, kept by a Chinaman of more than doubtful reputation; nothing further could be ascertained concerning the seaman's movements. Dave knew that sailors are loath to betray one of their number, and questioned them sharply, as Dick was too valuable a man to lose without an effort for his recovery. He even delayed sailing while "Jimmy Legs" spent a couple of hours searching for the delinquent in the lower quarters of the town; but no light was thrown on his disappearance. The Chinese saloon-keeper, Ah Fong, declared that a sailor-man answering to Scupp's description had become partly intoxicated on the premises and had been summarily ejected. That was the last seen of him. Lieut.-Commander Rexdale could wait no longer and put to sea, logging the incident as "Dick Scupp, Ordinary Seaman, disappeared in Chefoo. Probably deserted." At a little before noon the _Osprey_ was under way. There was no local pilot on the bridge, for each of the officers was supposed to be perfectly capable of taking the ship out and conning her across the gulf to the port of destination. During the long stay at Chefoo Rexdale, in particular, had improved the time by as careful a study of the currents, channels, tides, and beacons on the Chinese coast as if he were to pass an examination in seamanship at short notice. The gunboat was about five miles out when the attention of Staples, the executive, was called to a large junk crossing her bow about a mile ahead. "There's some sort of a row on board," said the lieutenant, as he eyed the lumbering craft through his glasses. "It looks like a free fight among the pigtails." Rexdale and Liddon, the officer of the deck, joined him in scrutinising the stranger, whose decks seemed to be crowded with men, among whom a struggle was evidently taking place. Suddenly the commander exclaimed: "There goes a man overboard, and the scoundrels don't mean to stop for him!" "He may be dead," suggested Staples coolly. "He seemed to be muffled in black, which isn't the fashionable costume for a Chinese coolie." "We must pick him up," said Dave with energy. "He's alive and struggling. I can see his head now--I believe it's a negro. Port your helm a little, Mr. Staples. Head for the man and get your lifeboat ready!" "Port, Quartermaster!" commanded the executive. Then, raising his trumpet to his lips, he shouted, "Man the lifeboat!" It should be understood that the _Osprey_, like most gunboats of her class, carried two large "whaleboats." These were kept ready for lowering quickly, when the ship was at sea. The one which happened to be on the lee side at any given time was the "lifeboat." There is always a "lifeboat's crew" on watch, while at sea, permanently detailed, all fully drilled in their duties. Staples's voice rang like a bugle-call throughout the ship and in an instant every man in the lifeboat crew was on his feet and racing for his station. "Steady, Quartermaster," commanded Rexdale. "Keep her as she is. You're heading straight for him." "Aye, aye, sir! East-north-east, sir!" responded the quartermaster. "I'll relieve you, Mr. Liddon," said Staples. "You go down and look out for the boat!" By this time the boat-crew were clambering into the lee whaleboat, led by Midshipman Starr, who had cleared the wardroom ladder in a flying leap at the first order from the bridge. Within sixty seconds from the call "Man the lifeboat!" the boat was ready for lowering. In the stern-sheets stood the coxswain, steering oar in hand, with every nerve alert and tense; the bow oarsman had cast off the end of the "sea painter," but kept a turn with it around the forward thwart. The other men were seated on the thwarts, two of them with boat-hooks, with which they were prepared to push the boat off from the ship's side while being lowered, as the _Osprey_ was rolling a little in a cross swell. Bob Starr was beside the coxswain, and awaited the command for lowering, as he tried to catch a glimpse of the drowning man in the sea far ahead. When the alarm was first given the _Osprey_ was making about ten knots an hour, which would call for six minutes to cover the intervening mile. Rexdale knew better than to slow up and lower his boat at once, thus increasing this time and the risk of losing the man. "Port a little more, Quartermaster!" ordered the captain. "Mr. Staples," he added, "whistle down to the engine-room and tell them to give us all the speed they can." After a brief colloquy through the tube the executive reported: "They can do a little better, sir, but not much. They were just starting to clean fires." Liddon, on the quarter-deck, now called out, "All ready the lifeboat, sir!" "Very well, Mr. Liddon," returned Staples. "Hold on all till I give you the order to lower." Four minutes went by, with only an occasional growl from Dave: "Port a little! steady, now! Starboard a little! Steer a steady course there at the wheel--you're yawing all round the compass! There you are! See if you can hold her steady at that!" The man in the water was now about two hundred yards away. "Stop both engines, Mr. Staples!" The executive, who was already standing with his hand on the lever of the port indicator, swung it sharply to "_Stop_," while the quartermaster, at the starboard indicator, did the same. "Half speed astern with both engines!" commanded the captain. "Stand by to lower, Mr. Staples!" Again the signal levers swung, and the executive called out, "Stand by to lower, Mr. Liddon, as soon as we stop backing!" The ship slowed down, trembling under the reversed strokes of the powerful screw and rolling sheets of white foam from beneath each quarter. "Stop both engines!" ordered Dave. "Stop, sir!" "Lower away, Mr. Staples!" "Lower away, sir!" and an instant later the boat sank to the water, was detached, and was pulling rapidly toward the swimmer, who, when first abandoned by the junk, had paddled about irresolutely, but was now making his way steadily toward the boat. "It's a negro, fast enough," observed Staples, gazing through his binoculars. "He's as black as the ace of spades." "Give her half-speed, Mr. Staples," directed Rexdale, whose whole mind was now on the management of his ship, "and come round to pick them up!" Again the signal jingled in the engine-room, and the ship, with helm a-starboard, circled round the lifeboat. "Up oars! Shove off!" commanded Starr in low tones, as soon as the boat had detached itself from the patent hooks. "Let fall!" The orders were repeated sharply by the coxswain, the oars dropped into the rowlocks, and were brought level with the rail, with blades horizontal. "Give way together!" and away went the boat on its errand of mercy, foaming over the choppy sea, toward the struggling swimmer. "Way enough!" ordered the midshipman, as they approached the black, woolly head bobbing about in the water. Bob stood up in the stern-sheets, as the boat lost its headway. Suddenly a look of wonder came into his face, succeeded by a suppressed chuckle, to the amazement of the men, no one of whom, however, broke discipline by turning his head. "In bows!" called the coxswain, in response to Starr's order. "Stand by there, to pull the man in! Hold water! Stern all!" Again a ripple of amusement shot over the midshipman's jolly face, which grew red in his attempts to suppress his emotions. The next moment the bow oarsman reached down and with a great effort pulled the dripping castaway in over the side. A roar of laughter rang out from the boat's crew. "A dog! A big Newfoundland!" exclaimed the coxswain, as the animal, sinking down in the bottom of the boat with a low whine, gave himself a shake that sent the water flying over the men. "Shall we throw him over again, sir?" "No, no," laughed Bob, resuming his seat. "He's too fine an animal to drown. Get back to the ship. That's enough, men! Silence!" Rexdale, Staples, and Liddon had already made out the character of the supposed "man overboard," and were shaking with laughter when Bob returned. The duty remained, however, of hoisting the boat and resuming the course to Chemulpo. "Lead along and man the lifeboat's falls!" shouted the executive. The boat pulled up to the leeward side of the ship--the engines having been stopped--and a line was thrown to her. This was deftly caught by the bow oarsman and a turn taken around the forward thwart. The boat, by means of this line and skilful management of the steering oar in the hands of the coxswain, was sheered in under her falls, which had already been overhauled down so that the lower blocks were within easy reach of the men in the boat. The ship in the meantime was forging slowly ahead. A line was thrown from her stern to a man in the stern of the boat, who took a turn and held on, to keep the boat from swinging violently forward when she should leave the water. The falls were now hooked on, having been previously manned on deck by a long row of men reaching half the length of the ship, ready to run the boat up quickly, at the order. "Haul taut!" commanded Liddon, who was standing on the ship's rail, watching affairs. "Hoist away!" Up came the boat, crew and all, to the davits. The men clambered out and, with some difficulty, passed down the dog, who seemed disinclined for further adventures. "Full speed ahead!" jingled the engine-room bell, at Staples's command, and the _Osprey_, brought to her old course, once more started for Chemulpo. The dog, a big, shaggy Newfoundland, soon regained his composure, and wagged his way along the deck with the greatest good-humour. "He's a fine fellow, anyway," said Dave, patting the broad head. "I'm glad we hove to for him." "What's this written on his collar," queried Liddon, taking the wet leather band in his hands and turning it, so as to read some rude characters apparently scratched with the point of a knife. Dave glanced down carelessly, then sprang up the steps to the bridge. "Starboard, Quartermaster," he ordered in sharp, quick tones. "Mr. Staples, head her dead for that junk!" Liddon was already by his side. After the first instant he did not wonder at the commander's sudden change of course. He, too, had read the two words, scrawled on the dripping leather collar. "_Shanghaied--Scupp._" Both officers understood in a moment the whole story of the seaman's mysterious disappearance. They reasoned with the quickness of sailors--and correctly, as it afterwards appeared--that Scupp had yielded to his one unfortunate weakness, a fondness for liquor, during his liberty on shore. Once inside the rum shop he had been plied with spirits, probably drugged--for the Chinese are experts in the use of opium--and while insensible carried on board the junk, to be shipped on board a Russian man-of-war. So many men had deserted for that purpose that there was little likelihood of the man's objecting when he found himself actually pressed (or "shanghaied," to use an old sailor's term for this sort of forcible enlistment), and offered wages double those he had been earning. While the Russian navy would not instigate such a daring breach of the law of nations it was highly improbable that they would reject a good seaman, trained to his work by the United States. In kidnapping Master Richard Scupp, however, the Chinese made a bad mistake. Now that he was sober Dick had no idea of deserting his colours or taking service under a foreign flag. He came to his senses just as the junk cleared the chops of the harbour of Chefoo, and within five minutes he had laid out three of his captors and was himself knocked down. He found himself lying beside a big dog, who licked his face and expressed his willingness to aid his new friend, so far as he was able, to escape. Without definite purpose Dick scratched the two words on the dog's collar with the point of his sheath knife. This act was detected by the observant Chinese, but they could see no harm in his amusing himself in that way and were rather glad for the dog to keep him out of mischief. About half an hour later there was a commotion and a jabbering of tongues among the pig-tailed crew. Dick stood up and caught sight of the _Osprey_ heading toward the junk at full speed. This drove him wild again. Bowling over the nearest Chinaman he sprang for a spare spar, intending to jump overboard and take his chances of being picked up. The crew crowded him back, and the dog, putting his forepaws on the rail, barked joyously at the gunboat which poor Dick vainly longed to reach. A thought struck the kidnapped sailor as he watched the dog. Before any one could stop him he leaped to the side of the junk and tossed the animal overboard. He knew the Newfoundland could swim like a fish, and, providing a shark did not drag him under, there was just a chance that the officers of the _Osprey_ might see the dog and, picking him up, read the message on his collar. The plan, as we have seen, succeeded admirably. Dick had the satisfaction of watching the gunboat as it slowed down and sent a boat to his four-footed messenger struggling in the sea. The Chinese, as he had expected, were angry at the loss of the dog, but did not dare risking a visit from the United States war-ship by throwing their boat up into the wind and rescuing the black swimmer. "They'll know where I am, anyhow, if they only read that collar," said poor Dick to himself, as the junk rapidly drew away. He was now forced down on the deck behind the rail lest he should be made out through the glasses of his officers, which the Chinese knew must be scrutinising the craft which had left behind such a peculiar bit of jetsam. The _Osprey_ quivered from stem to stern, under the pressure upon her engines. The firemen guessed that something unusual was in the wind, and, stripped to the waist, kept the furnace doors clanging and the fires roaring under her boilers. "We're walking right up on her!" said Staples excitedly, as he and Dave watched the chase. "Is it any use to signal to them to stop? Do they understand the signals?" "We'll signal in a way they _will_ understand," exclaimed Rexdale, "if they don't obey the flags. Call the signal-men!" In response to a shrill whistle two men came clambering up to the bridge and stood ready to execute orders. "Set 'Stop at once,'" commanded Dave, "General Merchant Code." A string of gay little flags mounted to the signal yard. They produced not the slightest effect on the flying junk, which was plunging its nose into the waves and scurrying eastward before the wind at not less than nine or ten knots an hour. "Pass the word for the crew of the forward port three-pounder, Mr. Staples! Stations! Cast loose and provide!" The orders were repeated, and four gunners sprang to their places. In a twinkling the captain of the crew had removed the gun-cover and tompion and cast adrift the gun-lashings; Number Two had gone over all the mechanism of the mount and provided revolvers and ammunition for all four; Numbers Three and Four brought cartridges and swabs, and took positions in rear of the breech of the gun. "Load!" The breech was opened, a cartridge inserted, and the block swung back into place and clamped. The junk was now only about one thousand yards distant. The _Osprey_, closing up from the south, held a course at an acute angle with that of the fugitive, to head her off. The best marksman of the gun-crew now stood at the breech, and, with his shoulder against the padded crutch, slowly and carefully brought the Chinaman within the sighting line. "Drop a shot across her forefoot," ordered the commander. "Commence firing!" The gun roared, and a big splash just in front of the junk testified to the correct aim of the pointer, and at the same time spoke in a language that could not be misunderstood. The vessel veered round, spilling the wind out of her great, oddly-shaped sail, which hung flapping from its huge yard. The _Osprey_ had now forged up within a few times her own length and slowed down. "Mr. Liddon," said Dave with energy, "you will take the starboard quarter-boat and board that vessel. Arm your crew with cutlasses and revolvers, and if her captain can understand English, tell him I'll blow him out of the water if he doesn't hand over my man." "Ay, ay, sir!" returned Liddon, delighted with his commission. For the second time within an hour the boat glided down from the davits, and went tossing over the waves, driven by eight pairs of brawny arms. Before they could reach the side of the junk, a chorus of shouts came from the gunboat they had just left. "Man overboard! Man overboard! Stand by to pick him up!" The fact was that when the Chinamen saw that the formidable war-ship was really in earnest, a panic seized them. They all shrieked and jabbered together, as their vessel hove to, and Dick Scupp plainly saw that more trouble was coming for him. There seemed to be a dispute between two factions on the junk, one of which screamed and pointed first to Dick and then to the _Osprey_, and the other pointed as furiously to the hold of the junk. Comprehending that they were discussing whether to restore him to his own ship, or to hide him below decks--possibly with a knife in his heart--and declare innocence, the sailor made ready for action. The party demanding his concealment seemed to have carried their point, for a number of them now made a rush for Dick, with fierce eyes and with daggers drawn. The seaman sprang to his feet, catching one of his guards with a blow under the ear and tripping the other to the deck. Before a hand could be laid upon him he bounded over the rail into the sea, and began to swim vigorously toward the approaching boat. All efforts of the crew of the latter were now directed to saving the life of their comrade. Liddon steered skilfully up to him and a moment later he was dragged in over the gunwale, gasping and sputtering. The junk, meanwhile, caught the wind over her bows and filled away again toward the north-east. The _Osprey_ waited to pick up her boat, as the Chinamen thought she would, and another chase was in prospect. "Stave her to bits! It's an insult to the United States! We can catch up with her in five minutes!" urged the junior officers of the gunboat, gathering around their commander, forgetful of discipline. Rexdale shook his head, though his teeth were set and his face red with suppressed anger. "We can prove nothing," he said. "They'll swear he was a deserter and concealed himself on board. Uncle Sam doesn't want to take on China or anybody else in this scrappy country just now. We'd be blamed and court-martialled if we should sink a junkful of Chinamen for no better reason than the one we have." He turned to the pilot. "Full speed ahead, on her course for Chemulpo." Then, calling down to the gun-captain, "Unload and secure!" Dick was duly disciplined for absenting himself beyond leave, but, considering the hard experience he had undergone, his punishment was made nominal, with a not very severe reprimand from the commander. The dog was named "Junk" and became the rival of the black kitten--though very friendly with her--as the mascot of the _Osprey_. CHAPTER XVIII. OSHIMA GOES A-FISHING. Captain Oshima (promoted from lieutenancy for bravery on the field), of the 10th Regiment in the Second Japanese Army, under General Odzer, was fishing. Like most of the Japanese soldiers he had brought from home, among other effects, a small fishing-line and several hooks. There were hours and even days when he was called upon to perform no active duty beyond routine drills, and in memory of the days when he and Oto used to tramp the brook-sides of dear old Japan, displaying their trophies at night to gently admiring O-Hana-San and the other prim little maids of the village, he had determined to try his luck in this strange, war-swept Manchuria. The hill-tops might be wreathed in battle-smoke and the plains heaped with dead and dying; but in obscure valleys and down slopes which had thus far escaped the tread of martial forces, the ploughshare of the steel shell and the terrible harrow of shrapnel, streamlets laughed and flowed blithely along their pebbled courses, and tiny trout darted to and fro as merrily as in the dreamy days of peace and plenty. So Oshima went a-fishing. Unrolling his line and attaching it to a neat little pole, cut in a near-by thicket, he took his seat on a boulder and dropped his baited hook in one of the quieter pools of a brook that fed an upper branch of the Faitse River. It was warm, and Oshima took a fan from his pocket and fanned himself gravely as he fished. Every Japanese soldier is provided with a fan. Oshima had often looked back on his company, and on the column trailing behind, on a long march under the scorching Manchurian sun in June, and had seen a thousand little fans fluttering beside the heads of the men. The Japanese army are not only among the fiercest fighters the world has ever known, but they are dainty in their appointments. With the army go camp-followers who are allowed to sell fans, handkerchiefs, cigarettes, tea, soaps, tooth-brushes, and writing-paper. For the officers are carried great iron kettles in nets, two on a pony; these are used in heating water for baths, as well as to cook the company mess of rice. A few squares of straw matting make a bath-house, and a big stone jar is the tub of comfort for the almond-eyed campaigner. Much time is also spent in correspondence. The field post carried an immense amount of mail every day between Antung and the front. Around the camp of Oshima's regiment could be seen, in the quieter hours of the day, hundreds of soldiers sitting cross-legged under the trees, painting artistic epistles to their dear ones at home with brushes on rolls of thin paper. Oshima himself had written two letters that day; one to his mother and one to O-Hana-San, who was now a volunteer nurse under the Red Cross at a large seaport of the new country. So he went fishing. He caught three very small trout within an hour. Then he rose, rolled up his line and deposited it in a neat packet, strung the fish upon a twig and was about to return to camp when he noticed a Chinese coolie acting very peculiarly. The man was dressed as a Chinese labourer, with a helmet upon his head, a coarse blouse and thick-soled shoes, like all of his caste. He was carrying two pails of water, which he had just filled at the brook, a few rods below Oshima. This was no unusual occupation for a coolie, although it was surprisingly far from camp; the peculiarity lay in the keenness with which the man surveyed the outworks of the fortifications, and his manner in glancing nervously over his shoulder as he walked off. When he saw Oshima looking at him he almost dropped his pails; then hurried down toward the camp at a pace that soon carried him out of sight. It was late in the afternoon when the captain--who had dined sumptuously on rice and his three fish--caught sight of the coolie once more. The man was walking past his tent, carrying water as before. Oshima called to him sharply. Apparently the coolie did not hear, for he continued on his way, with head bent and eyes cast down. Oshima spoke a few words to his orderly, who passed an abrupt order to two privates stationed near headquarters. They at once stepped after the Chinaman, and clapping their hands on his shoulders, turned him round in his tracks and marched him back to the tent. Oshima viewed the coolie in silence for a moment; then said in Chinese, "What is your name, my man?" "Ah Wing, master." "Your occupation?" The man held up his water-pails, as if that were a sufficient answer. He had not yet looked his interrogator in the face, but persistently gazed down at the ground. Oshima scrutinised the fellow intently. Suddenly and without warning the officer sprang to his feet, knocked off the helmet and tweaked the supposed coolie's pigtail. Behold, it came off in his hand! The man stood erect. He dropped his burden. His countenance was pale but firm. He looked his captor in the eye. "You are a Russian soldier?" asked Oshima. "I am an officer in the Third Siberian Reserves," answered the prisoner calmly, in his own language. "My name is Sergius Jalofsky. Volunteers were called for to obtain information as to your forces and defences. I was one of six to volunteer. The other five have, I trust, escaped. I was to return to Liaoyang to-night." "Search him," said the Japanese captain sternly. From an inner pocket was produced a paper containing measurements, figures, and plans relating to the encampment. The evidence was convincing, even if the spy, seeing that escape or concealment was impossible, had not made his full confession. "Hold the prisoner under guard," ordered Oshima. "We will hold a court-martial and settle this matter at once." The capture of the Russian was reported at once to the colonel of the regiment, and a council of officers was convened. Five minutes' deliberation was sufficient. "You will die at sunset," said Oshima to the spy. "You are a brave man. You shall be shot." At a gesture of the captain the guard led away the prisoner, whose countenance had not changed nor features relaxed in the slightest degree when the sentence was pronounced. The sun was already nearing the mountain-tops in the west, and the cool damp shadows of evening rapidly advanced. A corporal's guard led the captive to a retired spot at a short distance from the camp. The men formed in line, with loaded muskets ready. "Sir," said the corporal, "have you any request to make, or message to leave? You are one of the bravest men I ever met. I give you my word your message shall be delivered." For the first time the Russian's eyes moistened. "I thank you, comrade," said he. "I have but done my duty. It was at the Czar's command. I have no word--yet--I will ask you to send word to my wife in Irkutsk that I died like a man and a soldier." He took his ikon from his breast, kissed it, and bent his head over it a moment. Then, having given his wife's address to the corporal, who wrote it down carefully, he folded his arms and stood erect. The corporal gently placed the folded arms down at the man's side. "It is well not to cover one's heart," he said. "Death will be very quick." The Russian bowed his head gravely. "I am ready," he said. "Ready, men! Aim! Fire!" As the smoke drifted away, the Russian looked upward an instant, with a smile on his bronzed face; then, murmuring "At--the--Czar's--command!" he fell, dead. Day by day, through the fierce summer heats of June and July, the Japanese strengthened their hold upon lower Manchuria, and tightened the cordon about Port Arthur. Nanshan Hill and Motien Pass on the east were carried with the bayonet. Kinchow had already fallen, the fire of the Japanese fleet annihilating the Russian batteries in a two-days battle. When the great Corliss wheel was set up and the massive machinery "assembled" at the Centennial Exposition at Philadelphia, the maker refused to start his engine for a trial before the Exposition was officially opened. "It will run," he said, "and run smoothly and perfectly. Every part is exact; figures cannot lie." It was a great risk to take, but the event proved that the manufacturer was right. When the electric signal announced the formal opening of the Fair, steam was let on. The huge piston of the Corliss engine started; the enormous wheel--the largest ever made, up to that time--began to revolve, and in a moment every polished rod and valve and wheel in the great engine was doing its part, running the entire machinery of the hall and performing its work without jar or noise, as smoothly as a child's water-wheel in a wayside brook. So operated the wondrous, complex machine of the Japanese military system, from the first mobilisation in Tokio, through the hurry and risk of transportation across the inner sea, and in movement after movement, battle after battle, in a country far removed from home. Field telephones kept the commanders in touch with advanced forces; the commissary department fulfilled its duties like clock-work; Kuroki, Oyama, Nodzu, Nogi, moved regiments and divisions to and fro like pieces upon a gigantic chess-board. The heat was now terrible. More than once a whole battalion rushed into a river to drink, under the full sweep of the enemy's fire. Still the resistless army of small brown men swept onward, marching through fields of Chinese corn, winding along narrow defiles, holding firmly every point of vantage gained. As the end of August drew near it was evident that the two mighty armies must meet. Minor battles had been fought, and skirmishes had been of almost daily occurrence throughout the campaign, but the vast hordes of armed men from the East and West had not yet been pitted against each other. The time had come at last, and the civilised world held its breath. The Russian army lay strongly entrenched at Liaoyang, an old town on the line of the railroad between Port Arthur and Harbin. The Japanese had been pouring troops into the peninsula for months, a portion called the Third Army gathering around Port Arthur, under General Nogi, the remainder pressing northward on the heels of the retreating enemy. The objective of the First, Second, and Fourth Armies was Liaoyang. The supreme command of the Japanese forces was now entrusted to Field Marshal Marquis Oyama, who had commanded ten years before, in the war against China. The three armies, having overcome every obstacle, were in touch before Liaoyang. They formed a huge horse-shoe, with its ends resting on the Taitse River, on the south bank of which stood Liaoyang. The Russians formed an inner horse-shoe in a similar position. On each side were over two hundred thousand men, nearly half a million human beings, all animated with the one desire to kill! On the morning of August 30th, at the first grey of dawn a puff of white broke upward from the Japanese lines and a shell, filled with shrapnel, flew screaming across the peaceful plain--a dread messenger to announce the beginning of the longest and greatest battle the world had ever known. One battery after another opened fire, throughout the entire front of nearly forty miles. Under cover of the artillery attack the Russians charged furiously, often driving the Japanese before them at the point of the bayonet; but no sooner was a company or a regiment annihilated than another took its place, and was hurled against the foe. Positions were taken and retaken. The carnage was terrible. Never in the world's history had such enormous masses of men thrown their lives away with utter abandon. On each side a thousand cannon thundered from morning till night. At noon of the second day a slow rain began to fall, transforming the plain into a quagmire, crossed and recrossed by endless trains of men, a part charging toward the front with wild shouts of defiance, a part halting, crawling, limping, or lying in carts, seeking the hospitals, where their ghastly wounds could be treated. When the second night fell it was reported in every capital in both hemispheres that after two days of desperate fighting Kouropatkin had gained a decided advantage. Fred Larkin was in his element. Dashing to and fro on a shaggy little Siberian pony, he gathered news as if by instinct. His experience in the Spanish-American War served him in good stead, and he not only knew what deductions to draw from certain movements on both sides, but what information was most desired by his paper and the great reading public at home. In Boston the crowds in lower Washington Street read on the bulletin boards the despatches he dashed off in his note-book and sent from the Liaoyang telegraph office after they had been duly censored. Late in the afternoon on the second day of the battle he was making his way back to the town across the miry fields south of Liaoyang. The shaggy pony shook his mane and snorted as the rain fell, but was too tired to trot. "Tough day, pony," said Fred, who himself was so used up with his exertions that he could hardly sit upright in the saddle. "Never mind, old boy. In half an hour you will be in your stable, munching oats. You shall have an extra good supper for the hard work you've--hallo! be careful!" The pony had wandered a little from the main road, which the steady stream of hospital and commissary waggons had made well-nigh impassable, and Fred had allowed him to pick out his own path across the plain so long as his general direction was right. The little animal now interrupted him by shying violently at an object upon which he had almost trampled. Peering down Fred saw a soldier stretched out upon the sodden ground. At first he thought the man was dead, but looking more closely he saw the soldier's hand move slightly, as if to ward off a blow. "Poor chap!" said Fred, whose kind New England heart the horrors of war had by no means hardened, "I won't hurt you. Are you wounded?" As the man did not reply, the rider dismounted for a closer examination of the prostrate soldier. Then he uttered an exclamation of pity. It was evident that the man had been struck--probably by a fragment of a shell--and a terrible wound inflicted upon his head. How he had managed to crawl from the firing line as far as this spot, Larkin could not see. It was plainly impossible for him to live. Fred mustered up what little Russian he could command and spoke gently to the poor fellow, whose life was going fast. "What is your name?" he asked. "Can I do anything for you?" "Ivan--Ivanovitch," gasped the soldier, making a great effort to speak. "I do not--know--I do not understand--I am a--soldier of--Russia--It was the command--the Little Father--ah-h!" He spoke no more, but lay quiet and silent, his white, boyish face, upturned to the slow rain. Fred opened his military coat, and laid his hand upon Ivan's breast. The ikon was there, treasured to the last; but the heart no longer beat. At the Little Father's command, Ivan Ivanovitch, like thousands of his comrades, not knowing why, not understanding, but faithful to the last, had given up his home, his dear ones, his life. With a long sigh Fred drew the flap of the young soldier's coat over the still face, remounted his pony, and rode on towards Liaoyang. He found the town in a state of wild confusion, with heavy carts rumbling through the ill-made streets, crowds of wounded men on their way to the hospitals and the trains for Mukden; refugees clamouring at the railroad station, householders removing their goods, and thousands of people hurrying to and fro like ants in a breached ant-hill. With much difficulty the reporter got a brief dispatch through to the _Bulletin_, and sought a well-earned rest at his lodgings near the station. Night after night the cannon thundered, and day after day the battle raged. The Russian front was now crowded in from thirty miles to less than eight. At great risk Oyama resolved to divide his army, and attempt a flanking movement, which proved successful. On the seventh day of the battle, Kuroki threw a strong force across the Taitse, ten miles above the town. This movement turned the scale. Kouropatkin gave orders to fall back on Mukden. Larkin, meanwhile, was doing the work of half a dozen reporters and a Good Samaritan besides. He took his place beside the surgeons and nurses, whenever he could leave the firing line, and laboured by the hour, caring for the wounded, especially the Chinese who suffered the fate of those caught between two conflicting forces. The losses on both sides had been fearful, and the amount of ammunition expended almost incredible. In one day of the battle the Russian artillerists reported one hundred thousand shots fired. Fred was assured at headquarters, on the day of Kuroki's flank movement, that in any case Liaoyang would not be evacuated for forty-eight hours; so he toiled on, in good faith, making no special provision for his withdrawal from the front, but intending to accompany the Russian army in its retreat. The next morning what was his surprise, on emerging from his lodgings, to find the town deserted by Kouropatkin's forces. Japanese flags were already flying from almost every house and shop of the Chinese inhabitants. Shells were bursting in the streets, and the Japanese army was reported just outside the gates. He hurried to the railway station, only to find that the last train had gone. There seemed no way of escape, without crossing the fire-swept zone in the rear of the retreating army. Fred reluctantly faced the conclusion that he must return to the hospital and submit to inglorious capture, if no worse, at the hands of the Japanese; and this when he was ordered to "remain with the Russian army" by his own "Czar," the chief of the _Daily Bulletin_. The reporter ground his teeth as he stood irresolute, in a sheltering doorway. At that moment he happened to glance upward, and a huge, ungainly object, showing above the low roofs of the surrounding buildings, caught his eye. At first it meant nothing to him. "The balloon section have run and left their big gas-bag behind them," he said to himself mechanically. Throughout the fight a balloon had hovered above each of the contending armies, the occupants spying out the dispositions of the enemy's forces and telephoning from aloft to the commanders' headquarters. It was evident that the Russians, startled by the hurried orders to retreat, had obeyed so hastily as to leave their charge behind, to fall into the hands of the Japanese. A thought flashed across Fred Larkin's quick brain as he gazed upon the swelling expanse of tawny silk. Quitting the doorway where he had taken refuge from the bursting shells, and snatching a Japanese flag as he ran, he made for the balloon. It was suspended over a small square, held down by a strong hemp cable. To spring into the car was the work of a moment. He drew his knife and was about to sever the rope when a shriek rang out from a neighbouring street and a man was seen running toward the square, pursued by half a dozen Chinamen. "Help! Help! They'll murder me!" screamed the man, looking about wildly as he ran. His eye fell upon Fred, in the balloon, and at the same moment the reporter recognised him, disguised, mud-stained, and dishevelled as he was. "Stevens!" exclaimed Larkin, stooping to cut the moorings. Then a better impulse came over him. "Jump in, man!" he shouted. "It's our only chance to get out of town, if that's what you want!" Stevens recoiled at the sound of Fred's voice, and his pursuers, seeing the daring reporter standing over the fugitive with a drawn knife, hesitated a moment. "Get in! Get in!" reiterated Fred, seizing the shaking coward by the collar and fairly dragging him over the side of the wicker basket. "I won't hurt you!" "Wh-where are you going?" stammered the renegade, sinking down in the bottom of the car. "We'll decide that point later," said Fred, sawing away at the rope. "If a shell hits our ship before we've cast off, we shall stay right here; and from the looks of your excited friends there, the place would probably prove unhealthy for--Ah! Here we go!" The last strand parted and the great balloon soared swiftly above the town. A distant Japanese artillerist trained his gun upon it, but the shot passed below, and a moment later the air-ship was out of range, mounting toward the clouds and swept by a strong west wind directly over the battle-field. CHAPTER XIX. AMONG THE CLOUDS. At the very moment when the adventurous correspondent of the Boston _Daily Bulletin_ was making his escape from Liaoyang, a motley crowd of Koreans, Chinese coolies, Japanese, and Europeans were gathered upon the platform of the railway station in Chemulpo, waiting for the Seoul train to start. Tidings of the great battle had reached the port and the announcement of the decisive victory of Japan, and the evacuation of the city by the Russians, had set the people in a frenzy of delight, real or assumed. Distinguished by their erect bearing and bright naval uniforms two young men pushed their way through the throng and took their places in a first-class carriage on the train. "Whew!" said Bob Starr, pulling off his cap and wiping his forehead, "this is about as hot as Key West and St. Louis rolled into one. How soon does the train start, Liddon?" "In about five minutes," replied the dignified young officer of the _Osprey_, cool and calm as ever. "Don't complain of the heat, brother, until you've tramped through the interior of Luzon in July." The two messmates had applied for and obtained leave to run up to Seoul and do a little sight-seeing as well as some shopping. It was believed that the ship would be ordered home soon, and every officer on board wanted some little knick-knacks from the heart of Korea. Bob and "Doc." Liddon, therefore, had half a dozen commissions to execute at the capital, as well as their own purchases to make. "Now," said the midshipman, leaning back in his seat by the open window as the train began to move, "let's have a few statistics on Korea, old man." "What do you want to know about it, youngster?" smiled Liddon, who was well used to this sort of appeal. "Oh, I don't know enough about the place to ask questions," rejoined his companion languidly. "What is there interesting about it, anyway?" "Well, perhaps the most interesting feature of the history of this country has been, up to a very recent date, its exclusiveness," said Liddon. "You know Korea has always been called 'The Hermit Kingdom.'" "How big is Korea, anyway?" interrupted Bob, gazing out at the tawny waters of the river Hang-kang. "Almost exactly the size of Minnesota--or, say, the size of New England, New Jersey, and Maryland. With the sea on three sides, and an uninhabited wilderness on the fourth, this independent little affair has been able to keep out foreigners, up to a very recent day." "Independent? I thought China----" "Oh, China holds a sort of suzerainty or protectorate over Korea, but practically it has governed itself. The King, or Sultan, or whatever he calls himself, has always been held sacred--to touch him with an iron weapon was sure death. Of late years foreign merchants have gained a foothold in the country, and travellers have visited it. You know Wiju, at the mouth of the Yalu, was declared an open port only last February." "What's the religion hereabouts?" "Mostly Confucianism. Catholic missionaries have made a tremendous struggle to introduce Christianity, and their history has been a long series of martyrdoms. Why, in 1866, there was a great massacre of native Christians, and nearly ten thousand perished." "That finished the matter, I suppose?" "Not much. There are supposed to be at least forty-five thousand Roman Catholic Christians in Korea to-day. Just what will become of them if the country goes to Japan, or is divided up among the big Powers, nobody knows. The Koreans, by the way, have a standing army of seventeen thousand men, trained and drilled by European officers." With talk of this sort, and various other statistics relating to the Hermit Kingdom, time passed rapidly, and the learned young ensign was still lecturing when the train rolled into the station at Seoul. The two officers strolled up the shady side of the main street, and soon espied some curios from which they determined to select mementos of this strange city. "We ought to have some change," said Bob. "I've nothing but English gold. Suppose I get this shopkeeper to give me Korean money for half a dozen sovereigns?" "All right," agreed Liddon, with a twinkle in his eye which the other did not see. "He'll be glad to have the gold, no doubt, and will cheat you a little, but that won't matter." "How can I make him understand what I want?" queried the midshipman, standing before the Korean helplessly, with the money in his hand. "I guess I can arrange it," said Doc. Liddon gravely. "I happen to know the word for small change in this country. Hulloa, you! _Sapeke!_" The ensign held out the gold as he spoke, and let it clink. The man nodded twenty times, repeating "_Sapeke! Sapeke!_" and calling three or four coolies, gave them an order, despatching them in different directions. Then he gently drew out the American's watch, and pointing to the open face, held out five fingers. "That means he'll have the change ready in five minutes, I suppose," said Liddon. "Of course, just as they'd do at home. Sent round to the bank for it, probably. Let's walk on a bit, and come back here when the time's up." They indicated on the watch what their plans were, and with many smiles and nods and amiable gestures on both sides the officers proceeded on their way. There was not much to see in Seoul, after all. The buildings were for the most part miserable little one-story affairs, built of wood, clay, and rice-straw. Some of the meanest dwellings were thatched, but in general this primitive protection had given place to tiles placed in rows along the joints of the boards forming the roof. "Let's go back and get our pocketful of change," remarked Starr. "Then we'll call on the minister, hurry up our shopping, and get back to the ship. It's too hot to linger in this proud capital all day. I never was cut out for a hermit, anyway." On the way back the queer expression returned to Liddon's face, but he said nothing until they reached the shop. Then he gave one look at Bob's countenance and burst into a roar of laughter. Bob was speechless. There on the floor lay his change, surrounded by perspiring coolies. It consisted of about ten bushels of copper coins, each punched in the middle and strung on a wire. The four labourers must have worked hard to get it there within the allotted time. "Well, this beats me!" exclaimed the midshipman at length. "Is this all mine?" "Every _sapeke_ of it," said Liddon gleefully. "Put it in your pocket and jog along, son!" Fortunately an interpreter, attracted by the naval uniforms, happened to be near, and with much difficulty the shopkeeper was made to understand that but a small portion of the mountain of "cash" would be needed. Purchases were made, at exorbitant prices; a pound or two of the coins preserved for keepsakes, and the visitors departed. "For fifteen minutes I've felt like Rockefeller," said Bob sadly. "I never shall have so much money again. It's a dream!" "When a fellow tells his very best girl, in Seoul, that she's worth her weight in specie, it isn't much of a compliment, eh, Bob?" laughed Liddon. "Equivalent to valuing her at about thirty cents, I suppose," sighed the disconsolate midshipman. "What a copper mine this place is! It beats Helena, Montana, all out!"[4] They paid their visit of respect to the American minister, who insisted on their lunching with him, and laughed heartily over Bob's financial experience. Late in the afternoon the officers returned to Seoul by train, and were glad enough to reach the deck of the _Osprey_, fanned by the cool breezes of the Yellow Sea. As they distributed the gifts they had brought, and recounted their adventures in the Korean capital, while Dave, Staples, and Dobson shouted at the midshipman's woful face when the "temporary Rockefeller" was described, they little guessed what was befalling their old friend the war correspondent, whom we left in company with the renegade Stevens, running away with one of General Kouropatkin's war balloons. Larkin's first movement, as they rose above the roofs of Liaoyang, was to throw out a whole bagful of ballast, with plenty of which the air-ship was fortunately stocked. The two men crouched low in the basket to avoid stray bullets from the victorious Japanese army, and in ten minutes they were out of all danger from that source. Fred had made more than one ascension, in a professional capacity, from Boston Common, and felt quite at ease as the swelling bag above his head bore him farther and farther from the scene of the late battle. Not so Stevens. He continued to crouch in the bottom of the wicker car, and his teeth fairly chattered with fright. "Come, come, old chap," said Larkin cheerfully, "we're all right now. It's only a question of making a safe landing somewhere in the rear of the Jap army. I'm sorry to leave my friends the Muscovites, but needs must when the wind drives. I wish the inventors would hurry up with their dirigible balloons! Sit up, man, and take in this view. You may never have such a chance again." The panorama spread out beneath them was indeed a wonderful one. The wind, following the direction of the mountain range, was now sweeping them rather to the south than to the east, and at a height of about a mile the balloon passed swiftly over lower Manchuria with its fair streams, valleys and cornfields. Here and there a blur of smoke indicated a military encampment, and long trains of waggons could be made out, conveying stores to the front or wounded men toward the sea. The earth presented the odd appearance of a shallow cup, rather than of a convex surface. Now and then the landscape was blotted out by a low-lying cloud which, travelling in a different current, was quickly left behind. Once or twice, from a cottony puff of smoke, Larkin guessed that his big aërial craft was a target for Japanese riflemen; but no bullet came near to corroborate his surmise. Stevens, meanwhile, recovered nerve enough to sit upright and peer once or twice over the edge of the car; but each time he sank back with a shudder. "I always was giddy in high places," he muttered, resuming his former abject attitude. Larkin glanced at the pallid face, and felt a touch of pity for the miserable fellow. "No wonder the navy didn't suit you," he said. "You look half sick, Stevens. Anything special the matter with you? Hungry?" "No," said the other, his teeth chattering again. "I don't want anything to eat. I haven't been well lately. Those men who were after me--" He stopped abruptly and turned so white that Fred thought he was going to faint. Recovering himself with an effort, Stevens continued: "This balloon business is getting on to my nerves, I guess. Isn't it about time to think of landing?" "Landing!" exclaimed the other. "Not by any means. We must put a little more real estate between us and Oyama's front before we get down to terra firma. But we're going like an express train now, unless I am mistaken. It's hard to judge our speed, because we're just drifting with the current. I can't say I like so much southing, either. As near as I can tell, we're just about following the line of the railway. See--there it is--that long straight line!" But Stevens did not care to look. "Why were those fellows chasing you, if I may ask?" demanded the reporter, settling himself to a comfortable position in the car. "They--I don't know--well," said Stevens desperately, "if you must know, they were Boxers." Larkin started. "What, the society that started the trouble with the missionaries two or three years ago, and pretty nearly did up the foreign embassies in Pekin?" The renegade nodded. "I had time on my hands," he muttered, "and--and interested myself in their private matters. I meant to have made a good thing of it in Pekin." "I see," said Fred, looking at his companion with unmitigated disgust. "At your old tricks, of course. I'm not sure that I wouldn't have started without you, if I had known." "Then it's fortunate for me that you didn't," said the spy, with a sardonic grin. "Don't let's quarrel, Larkin. You've saved my life, and I won't forget it. It was a shabby trick I played you, in Port Arthur, but I really didn't mean you any harm. All I wanted was time to get out of the city." "All right," said Fred lightly. "I'm not a man to hold a grudge; but I wouldn't try any more tricks of the sort, my lad. They get tiresome, after a while. Look here, I'm hungry, and we haven't investigated the commissary department of the balloon corps. Here goes!" Dipping into a pile of packages at the bottom of the car, he brought up several cans of condensed beef and some hard biscuit, which had evidently been abandoned in the hurried flight from Liaoyang. There were also a couple of bottles of _vodka_, or Russian whiskey, upon which Stevens seized eagerly. Larkin, however, wrested them from his grasp and threw them overboard. "I hope they won't do any damage when they strike," he said, "but they certainly won't do any in this ship, while I'm captain. No _vodka_ for you, my friend. What's this--_Limonade gazenze_--ah, that fills the bill! Bottled lemonade, straight from Paris--two pints for each of us. Have some?" And he opened a can of beef and passed over a bottle of lemonade. Stevens scowled, but accepted the situation, and the two made a hearty breakfast. They had just flung over the empty can and bottles when they heard the report of a musket. "I don't like it!" shouted Fred, springing up so quickly that the basket rocked, and the spy turned pale again. "While we were eating we've been dropping, I'm sure I don't know why, unless there's a rip somewhere aloft. We aren't more than a thousand yards up, and they're taking pot shots at us from a Jap encampment. Out goes some more ballast!" He suited the word by emptying a bag of sand, and the balloon rose at once, as he ascertained by throwing out a few scraps of paper, which seemed to drop like lead. One or two more shots were fired, but the balloon quickly swept out of range, as before. The aeronauts had not gone far, however, when it became evident that they were again slowly sinking. "I don't like it," said Fred, shaking his head as he threw out another sand-bag. "Some of these bullets have punctured the old bag aloft, as sure as you live." "I thought you said you meant to land somewhere in the rear of the main Japanese lines!" exclaimed Stevens apprehensively. "What's the use of keeping up so high?" "What I really want now is steam enough to take us right across the gulf to Chefoo," answered the other. "We're heading straight for it," he added, consulting a small compass that dangled from his watch-guard. "If we can fetch that port there'll be no more trouble. But I don't like this sinking. It looks as if we had sprung a leak somewhere, and, don't you see, man? there's only one bag of ballast left!" In the course of an hour they had descended to within a few hundred feet of the ground, and Fred reluctantly parted with the last pound of sand. The sea could now be plainly discerned, to the southward. "Look--there are two of Togo's ships!" exclaimed Larkin. "Oh, what a sight! Don't I wish I had a good kodak!" Again the balloon dropped, and Fred flung out every movable object in the car. They shot up a thousand feet, but the relief was of short duration. "O for a couple of hundred-weight of ballast!" groaned Fred. "Or a gale of wind to take us over the water!" Once more the balloon gently descended. The breeze seemed to be dying out. They were now directly over the outworks of the Japanese forces besieging Port Arthur. Bang! bang! rang out the guns, far below. The great gas-bag quivered and began to drop faster. "They've hit us again!" said Fred. "We're in for it now. The question is, whether we shall get as far as the town. Somehow I don't fancy dropping down on our brown friends there, they're so handy with their rifles. Let's see what effect our ensign will have on them!" [Illustration: THE END OF THE TRAITOR.] He unrolled the Japanese flag he had caught up in running through the streets of Liaoyang, and displayed it as prominently as possible; but this only seemed to exasperate their assailants, who now were keeping up a regular fusilade. Suddenly Stevens gave a scream. "I'm hit! I'm hit!" he shrieked, clasping his hand to his breast. Springing to his feet, he tottered, and before Fred could seize his unfortunate companion the spy lost his balance and fell backward over the side of the car. Lightened of his weight the balloon made one more leap toward the clouds, crossed the outer trenches and forts of Port Arthur, and with a graceful sweep descended in the heart of the city. A hundred hands seized the wicker car and the rope, and Fred Larkin, still shocked and benumbed by the terrible fate that had overtaken his comrade, mechanically climbed out and stood, half-dazed, on the pavements of the very square where he had met Stevens three months before. A babel of voices greeted him, but before he could explain his involuntary descent the Japanese flag caught the eye of an officer who had joined the crowd, and the reporter was roughly seized, blindfolded, and hurried away to a prison cell. Early in the evening he was visited by two or three officials of rank, who had him searched and even stripped, for evidence of guilt. "Amerikansky," said Fred, over and over, seemingly without effect. The next morning, however, he was told that he was to be taken before General Stoessel, who would judge his case. The tones of the officer making this announcement were much more bland than on the preceding evening, and the prisoner was given a good breakfast before taking up the march, blindfolded, across the city. The walk itself seemed interminable. Down one hill and up another, along street after street, stumbling over rough pavements, with the roar of cannon constantly in his ears, and an unpleasant consciousness that a shell might fall in his immediate vicinity at any time, Fred was conducted into the great man's presence. General Stoessel recognised him at once, and asked a good many questions, all of which Larkin answered promptly and fully, except those pertaining to the Japanese forces and defences. "Look here, General," he said, "I've been called a spy more than once since I landed in your town. Now if I tell you all I know about the Japanese, you will have good reason to believe that I shall carry information to them, on leaving Port Arthur, concerning the Russians. This would fairly rank me as the mean thing I have been called--a spy. Not a word do you get from me, sir, regarding the Japs." "But what if you never leave Port Arthur? Why shall I not order you hung at once?" "Because, General Stoessel," said Fred Larkin, calmly, "I am an American citizen, innocent of any offence against your country; a journalist, pursuing his profession, and representing a friendly nation." The bluff soldier gnawed his moustache. "You shall not stay here," he said with decision. "I do not want any newspaper men in Port Arthur." "I'm ready to go," said Fred, "the moment you open the door. My arrival was unintentional, and----" "Restore his papers, and send him to Chefoo," said the General, rising. "How shall I go, General?" asked Fred. "In a junk. You must take your chances of safe arrival. And mind, sir, you must not come here again. Twice is enough!" "I certainly will not," said Fred, "if I can help it." General Stoessel asked a few more questions concerning the reporter's escape from Liaoyang. "It was like a crazy American," he said, more good-humouredly. Then he shook hands with Fred. "I hope you will have a safe voyage to Chefoo. Farewell!" With the same precautions against the correspondent's discovering anything of value to report outside the walls, he was led back across the city and the next morning he left Port Arthur in a _droschka_, or light road-waggon, and--still blindfolded--was driven to a plain near Loisa Bay. At this point the bandage was removed from his eyes and he scrambled down a hilly path to the shore, where he was locked up in a small stone hut until late in the afternoon, when--blindfolded again--he was led over the beach to a sampan and taken off to a junk, one of three which were getting under way--a huge, dirty craft, like that in which he had sailed on his outward trip. A Russian naval officer and boat crew accompanied him to the outer roads, where they said good-bye, entered their own boat and returned to the city. Fred noticed, the bandage having now been finally removed, that the _Czarevitch_, _Retvizan_, and some other damaged ships had been patched up and were changing anchorage under their own steam. The next morning the daring reporter once more set foot on the dock at Chefoo. FOOTNOTE: [4] Since this paragraph was written a despatch in the daily press of the United States has announced that a short time ago a syndicate of American capitalists was formed to buy up the "cash" used by the natives of China, and sell it for the pure copper used in the coins. In this way enormous profits have been made, it is said, by the promoters of the scheme, and the larger cities of the Empire have been almost stripped of small change. CHAPTER XX. THE DOGGER BANK AFFAIR. In the middle of September the following startling despatch appeared in the newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic: "ABERDEEN, SCOTLAND, Sept. 16.--A passenger who arrived to-day on board a coasting steamship reports that two Japanese officers and nine sailors came on board the vessel from London. "As soon as she arrived at Aberdeen they jumped into a small boat and proceeded at once to a mysterious low-lying craft in the offing, apparently a torpedo-boat, which, on receiving the men, steamed seaward. "It is believed here that the intention of the Japanese is to lie in wait for the Baltic fleet." In order to understand what Oto Owari and a brother officer were doing in the North Sea at the time when the Associated Press gave out this startling piece of news, we must return to the day when the battle-ship _Petropavlovsk_ "turned turtle" in the bay of Korea, and, attacked by some mysterious agency which was generally supposed to be either a Russian or Japanese submerged contact-mine, sank with nearly every soul on board. The _Octopus_, which had made its way under cover of the darkness of the preceding night to the western extremity of the Yellow Sea, and was lying in wait for its huge adversary, had remained awash until daylight. Then, closing the main hatch, she sank until only the end of the camera projected above water. This easily escaped observation, looking, as it did, like a bit of floating wreckage. According to directions from his admiral, Oto made no move to attack the Russian ships when they were coaxed out of their safe harbour by the wily Japanese, it being deemed best not to risk a hasty assault at a time when the enemy were fully alert and in the best condition. In case their squadron should escape from the Japanese force outside--vastly superior to the Russians--and should retreat towards Port Arthur, then the _Octopus_ was to strike its blow, quickly and decisively. The result is known, although naval authorities still dispute as to the cause of the _Petropavlovsk's_ destruction. Oto, conning the _Octopus_ through the camera, observed the battle-ship returning to port after the brief conflict in the open sea. He touched an electric knob and the submarine quietly sank to a further depth of six feet. Being now entirely out of sight, the terrible war-engine approached without difficulty to within less than a hundred yards of the Russian ship, discharged her torpedo with unerring aim, and accomplished her work. The waters in the immediate vicinity of the huge victim were violently agitated as she careened in her dying agony, and the _Octopus_ herself, lingering near to inflict another blow if necessary, was in danger of being drawn into the vortex made by the battle-ship as she went down. The little submarine reversed her engine quickly enough, however, to escape sharing the fate of her prey, and swiftly glided away to rejoin the Japanese fleet. The agent of destruction, known only to the admiral and the heads of the War Office, was not disclosed in Tokio, as it was deemed best that the Russian Admiralty and the world at large should know nothing of the terrible power Japan was wielding beneath the waves. Oto remained on duty in command of the _Octopus_ for several weeks longer, and was then detached for a more complicated task, one requiring an extraordinary exercise of intelligence and adaptability, as well as courage. It was known that the Russians were preparing a formidable fleet at home, to take the place of the war-ships that had been put out of action in the East, and to establish the Muscovite power upon the seas. If this could be done, it was conceded in military circles that Japan's fate would be sealed. With her immense army cut off from supplies and from retreat, the Russian ships could ravage the coast of the Island Kingdom, and the army in Manchuria would be compelled to come to terms. It was all-important to prevent the sailing of the Baltic fleet if possible, or to damage it after it had started on its long voyage. The Russian secret-service system has often been called the most effective and far-reaching in existence; but the Japanese have learned the methods of their huge neighbour, and with Oriental wit and alertness have surpassed their teacher. At about this time several accidents happened in the Russian navy yards at the head of the Baltic. One ship suddenly sank at her moorings; another was severely damaged by an inexplicable explosion; other strange mishaps befel the newly organised fleet before they left their moorings. Everybody read in the newspapers the reports of these "accidents," and everybody was puzzled to account for them--everybody, except the authorities at Tokio! In spite of every hindrance and disaster it became evident that the fleet was nearly ready to sail, fully equipped and manned for the long cruise which was to terminate, according to general expectation, in the greatest naval battle the world had ever seen, should the fleet reach Eastern waters. Taking a swift liner across the Pacific, Oto, with ten picked men of the Japanese navy, arrived at Vancouver on the 1st day of September. The Canadian Pacific, Grand Trunk, and New York Central railways landed the party in New York on the 7th; one week later they were in London. Here they took a small steamer on a local line, reaching Aberdeen on the 15th. On reaching shore the men, most of whom were dressed as common sailors in the merchant service, scattered among the water-side boarding-houses, and, in a city where seamen of every nationality are an every-day sight, excited little notice or comment. Oto himself, having first consulted his note-book, repaired to a shop on an obscure street where tea, carvings, and cheap Japanese curios were sold. The shopkeeper eyed him sharply, glanced at a slip of rice-paper which Oto presented, then made a low obeisance to the visitor, and having locked the outer door of his shop and lowered the shades, led the way to a narrow and steep stairway, murmuring in his own language: "I break my bones to Your Excellency. Be honourably pleased to mount your servant's despicable stairway to the private office." What communications passed in that office cannot be known with certainty. Oto, however, received from his countryman several despatches, and entrusted to him a return message of utmost importance. On the following day the nine Japanese met at the wharves by appointment. A boat was awaiting them, manned by a crew of the same nationality. In the offing the boat was taken up by a small, rakish-looking black steamer which some observers declared to be a torpedo-boat, others a "trawler," as the ships of the fishing-fleet were called. Whatever its nature, the craft had heels, for, with black smoke pouring from her short funnel, she soon disappeared to the northward. There were those who averred that they had plainly seen the English ensign flying over her taffrail. Not to make a further mystery of this odd little vessel, it may be stated at once that she was no other than the _Kiku_, or "Chrysanthemum"; the same small war-ship which had hailed the _Osprey_ in mid-ocean in her outward voyage, and had received and restored by a piece of incomparable naval dexterity the cabin steward of the gunboat. The _Kiku_ was a combination of torpedo-boat and destroyer; that is she was a small, swift steamer, fitted with both torpedo-tubes and three-inch rifled guns. Her efficiency in attack would depend largely on her speed, which was not less than twenty-six knots an hour, under forced pressure. For this reason, too, she was used as a despatch-boat. During the first six months of the war she was coaled and provisioned at obscure ports, often making long runs to escape observation. In the weeks that followed Oto's embarkation, the _Kiku's_ appearance was changed in several important particulars. She now might easily have passed for one of the trawling fleet that were familiar to every sailor in the North Sea. Her torpedo-tubes were concealed by canvas shields, painted black and so arranged that they could be easily drawn aside in action. Her guns were rigged out of sight, and port-holes closed so cleverly that only a trained eye would discover them, and that in broad daylight. At night the _Kiku_ was an innocent fishing steamer, pursuing her honest avocation under the protection of Great Britain. The sailing of the Baltic fleet had been again and again announced, and as often postponed. Vice-Admiral Rojestvensky knew that he was surrounded by spies, and more than half guessed that danger was awaiting him when once the home sea should have been left behind. At length, on the 21st of October, the great battle-ships and cruisers weighed anchor in earnest and started for Port Arthur. If that stronghold was to be saved, the relieving force could no longer be delayed. The Japanese were tightening their grip daily, and with an enormous sacrifice of life were taking position after position. Kouropatkin had made a vain attempt to march southward and succour the beleaguered fortress, and had been beaten back. Relief could only come by sea. It was believed at St. Petersburg that Stoessel could hold out until February, when Rojestvensky's fleet would be at hand to effect a diversion and open the harbour. Slowly and majestically the ponderous ships moved onward, the lookouts, doubled in number, watching every suspicious-looking craft, the officers scanning the sea, from the bridges, with powerful marine glasses. Just after sunset the fleet entered the North Sea and turned their massive prows toward the south. Between latitude 54° 10' and 57° 24' North, and longitude 1° and 6° 7' East (from Greenwich), a huge sand-bank lies under the waters of the North Sea, midway between England and Denmark. It is called the Dogger Bank, and affords extensive fishing-grounds which are frequented by all sorts of craft, from a wherry to a thousand-ton steamer. Here the Hull fleet set their trawls, and, with lights twinkling from bow and mast-head, toss and swing at their anchors through the long hours of the night. Every pilot in the United Kingdom, and on the coasts of the adjacent European states, knows of these trawlers and plots his course to avoid them in crossing the North Sea. The admiral of the Baltic fleet either forgot them entirely, or recklessly took the risk of their lying in the path of his heavier ships. As the night--an unusually dark one--of October 21st closed in, the Hull fishermen were anchored as usual over the Dogger Bank. There were half a dozen or more of them, and before midnight their number was increased by one--a low, black hull like their own, which brought up just north of the main group without attracting attention. The lights of the _Kiku_--for the newcomer was no other than the disguised destroyer--were made to conform exactly to those displayed by the trawlers. No one could have taken her for a war-ship, with her big fourteen-foot Whitehead torpedoes waiting to be unleashed behind their canvas tompions. Far away to the northward a light twinkled in the darkness; another, and another. "Slip the cable," ordered Oto quietly, not daring to recover his anchor lest the noise of the chain and pawls should be heard. "Clear decks for action!" A low hum of voices sounded through the ship. Bare feet pattered to and fro as the decks were cleared, the guns were run out, screens removed, and ammunition hoisted. All this had been done in repeated drill until the men knew exactly where to place their hands in the dim light afforded by carefully shielded lanterns. "Cast loose and provide!" "Load!" The orders were in a strange tongue, but varied little from those taught at the Annapolis Academy. Like some black kraken of old, crouching for a spring at its approaching prey, the _Kiku_ silently awaited the approach of the Baltic war-ships. Across the water from one of trawlers came a rough sea-song from the English sailors at their work. Nearer and nearer came the great battle-ship leading the fleet, the flag-ship of the vice-admiral. A much smaller vessel, corresponding in class to the _Osprey_, scouted at a little distance to the west. Suddenly a glare illumined the water. The scout's search-light was turned full on the _Kiku_. Instantly the rattling report of the gunboat's main battery roared out, followed by the heavier guns of the battle-ship. Rojestvensky, who, strange to say, had been below decks, now rushed to the bridge, and caught sight of the black hulls of the trawlers. "Fire into them! Sink them! Ahead full speed! They are torpedo-boats!" he ordered without a moment's reflection. The search-light of the flag-ship picked up a fishing steamer, and a moment later a solid shot passed through the hull of the unfortunate trawler, below the water-line, and she began to sink. [Illustration: ON THE DOGGER BANK.] A few more shots were fired wildly from the panic-stricken Russians, but in five minutes it was all over. The fishing-fleet were miles astern, and the battle-ships were furiously rushing from the scene of the brief and inglorious action. One of the trawlers was sunk, two men killed, and twenty wounded. This was the story that was brought to Hull the next morning, and set every Englishman's blood boiling at the reckless, needless disaster inflicted by Rojestvensky's ships. What, meanwhile, had become of the _Kiku_? When the first gun was fired and the shot struck the water beside her she slapped a steel bolt into the transport _Kamschatka_, taking one of her funnels off neatly. The enemy were too distant for torpedo work, and before the Japanese gunners could determine where to fire (they had aimed hap-hazard at the search-light of the scout, for the first shot), or in what direction to steer for an attack at close quarters, a shell plumped into their engine-room and exploded, killing four men and putting the ship completely out of action. Another shot hulled the _Kiku_ and fatally wounded three more of her crew. Oto, standing on the bridge and hitherto unhurt, calmly gave orders to lower the boats. There was confusion in the darkness, and the sudden calamity, and only one of the _Kiku's_ four boats was in the water before the ship sank. Oto was one of the half-dozen men who were picked up; every other on board went, with their vessel, to the bottom of the North Sea. Driven away from the trawlers by a fresh breeze, the Japanese survivors headed their boat westward and pulled lustily. Early the next afternoon they landed near Yarmouth and made their way to London. Their leader knew where to send them, in that great city, to find friends, and within a week they had shipped in various vessels for Japan. Oto himself, having sent a cipher despatch to Tokio, took passage on a Cunarder for New York, and was once more on board a ship in Togo's fleet in time to witness the fall of Port Arthur. To anticipate the course of this story, and complete that of the Dogger Bank affair, it may be added that for a time war between Russia and England seemed imminent. An agreement between the two Powers, however, was finally reached, by the terms of which an international inquiry was to be held, conducted by a Commission of naval officers of high rank, one British, one Russian, one French, one American, and one to be selected by these four. Evidence as to the presence of torpedo-boats on the Bank was widely conflicting, but after many protracted meetings the North Sea Tribunal, as it was called, finally announced its decision, which was, briefly, that the Russians had not, in reality, been attacked by torpedo-boats, and that the vice-admiral was not justified in firing into the fishing-fleet; that, however, "under the circumstances preceding and following the incident there was such uncertainty concerning the danger to the squadron as to warrant Rojestvensky in continuing his route." They did not positively condemn the Russians for firing, but they decreed that they should pay an indemnity to England, for the property destroyed, and to aid the families of the killed and wounded fishermen. There was much criticism upon this verdict throughout the countries represented upon the Commission; but it was indeed impossible for the judges to determine where the fault really lay. The trawlers testified, one and all, that there was no torpedo-boat present. Certain officers of the Russian ships, on the other hand, testified point-blank to having seen the hostile craft, and the commander of the _Kamschatka_ stoutly alleged that he had been fired upon by a torpedo-boat, and had signalled the fact to the flag-ship, at the outset of the affair. On the whole, the best comment upon the verdict was made by Bob Starr, on the _Osprey_, when he read the despatch in the papers. "It reminds me of the Western jury," said the midshipman, "who knew the prisoner well, and liked him too much to convict him; so they brought in a verdict of 'Not guilty, but don't do it again!'" CHAPTER XXI. THE FALL OF PORT ARTHUR. At about the date of the miscarriage of Commander Oto Owari's plans in the North Sea, the regiment in which his old friend Oshima[5] commanded a company was detached from Oyama's army of invasion and added to the forces under General Nogi, besieging Port Arthur. It will be remembered that Port Arthur was completely isolated on land when the Second Japanese Army, under General Oku, captured Nanshan Hill, in the latter part of May, 1904. On August 9th the Russians were driven into their permanent works, the real siege beginning three days later, when shells fell in the streets of the city for the first time. The task before the small brown men of Nippon seemed an impossible one. There were seventeen permanent forts to be taken, forty-two semi-permanent improvised fortifications, two miles of fortified Chinese wall, and a triple line of trenches over eight miles long. The forts were so arranged that each was commanded by several others; and the whole were manned and defended by some of the bravest soldiers the world has ever seen. "You are expected to do the impossible things," was the first order from the Mikado to his troops in the field. The expectation was fulfilled; the imperial edict was obeyed. Ten thousand men, in the face of a deadly fire of shot and shell, trampled the word "impossible" under foot, buried it beneath their torn and mangled bodies; and over them the soldiers of Japan marched to victory. Baron Nogi did not assume command in person until the siege had fairly begun. He had two sons, Hoten and Shoten. Shoten fell on Nanshan Hill, and his body arrived in Tokio on the day when his father was to sail for Manchuria. "Delay the funeral," said the General to his wife, "until Hoten and I are brought home to lie with Shoten." Hoten gave up his life on the deadly ramparts of "203-Metre"; Nogi still lives--a man "with face parchment-crinkled, brown like chocolate, with beard grey shaded back to brown, eyes small and wide apart, perfect teeth, tiny, regular nose and a beautiful dome of a head." So he is described by one who has often stood in his presence. Twice conqueror of Port Arthur, he is a mighty force in the Japanese army. Within the city the Russian soldiers, and what was left of the civilian population, kept up a brave front. The long hours were passed by the ladies in making garments for the invalids. The hospitals, under the care of the Red Cross, were beautifully kept, the laundry work being done by poor women and the soldiers' wives, in place of the regular "wash men," who had left months before. Every day in the week a military band played in one or another of the hospitals; one day in the New Russian town and one in the New Town. Mrs. Stoessel, the kind-hearted wife of the commander-in-chief, visited the sick men, bringing such dainties as the lessening fare of the fortress could furnish, and speaking encouraging words. For every thousand invalids were thirty trained nurses, in addition to volunteer helpers. Every day came a sad procession, bringing wounded men in litters from the outer works. Every day the shells fell in the doomed city. The streets were full of great gaps, where they struck and exploded. Before October the Old Town was a wreck. Every three days the men at the front were relieved, and as their comrades took their places the troops came marching back, singing cheerfully, although there were many vacant places in their ranks. When they overtook a litter with a dying comrade the songs would cease, and crossing himself each man walked with bared head until he had passed the brave fellow; then he donned his cap again and continued his song. Not a man of them would admit that the Japanese could ever take Port Arthur. Help would come from Kouropatkin or from the sea. So the days wore on, the leaves fell, chill winter winds began to sweep over the gulf, October gave place to November, and still the longed-for relief was withheld; still the terrible artillery of the foe roared from the surrounding heights and from the mighty battle-ships; and day by day the thunder was louder, the hospitals filled, and the heart of the gallant general grew heavy. After the futile assault in August the Japanese settled down to the slow process of mining and sapping. No one realised more fully than General Nogi the tremendous task that was before him. Batteries and forts not only commanded one another with their guns, but were connected by meshes of barbed wire which must be cut in the face of a devastating fire before the assailants could advance. In places these wires were charged with electricity. When the cutters attempted to ply their nippers they fell in their tracks, electrocuted. The outer slopes of the fortresses were formed of slippery concrete, or of loose sand in which the Japanese floundered and slid backward, while the Russian marksmen picked them off with their rifles. Buried in these formidable slopes were mines and torpedoes, some to be exploded by the touch of an electric button, some by mere contact. These hurled hundreds of the assailing troops into the air, torn and mangled. Deep moats surrounded the earthworks, and were so constructed that they could be raked by machine-guns. In at least one instance the moat was filled with combustibles which were fired as soon as hundreds of Japanese had leaped down into it. They were burned alive. But every stratagem, every defence, every death-dealing manoeuvre of the besieged was met and overcome by the relentless besiegers. To approach the fortifications across the zone of fire they dug zig-zag trenches at night, through which the troops, after great sacrifice of life, could get within striking distance and carry this or that battery by sudden assault. They tunnelled like moles, under the moats and through the earthworks. It might take two days or two months to advance a hundred feet, but the advance was effected. When the soldiers of the two nations actually met, the scene was terrible. As the opposing ranks drew near, the men tossed balls of gun-cotton--an explosive to which powder is as a toy-cracker to a twelve-inch turret gun--among the enemy. They screamed defiance. They fought with swords, with bayonets, and finally, like wild beasts, with claws and teeth. No savage tribes of Darkest Africa ever grappled in more frightful conflict. [Illustration: THE OSAKA BABIES.] The Japanese set their hearts upon taking Port Arthur on the birthday of their Emperor, October 29th, and the fiercest assault of the siege took place that day. On the evening before, Captain Oshima rested with his company in a trench which paralleled the defences of one of the strongest of the Russian forts. Until late at night his men were busy cleaning themselves as best they could, and changing their linen. They were preparing for death. The Japanese must die spotless in body as well as soul, to inherit eternal happiness. Oshima sat under a "bomb-proof" prepared by placing timbers across the trench and covering them with earth. He talked calmly with his line officers, and explained the plan of the coming attack, as he had received it from headquarters. At intervals came the sound of the heavy siege mortars, two miles away, firing over their heads into Port Arthur. These huge eleven-inch guns were affectionately dubbed "Osaka Babies," because they were built at the Osaka arsenal in Japan. There were eighteen of them distributed about Port Arthur. Each gun was emplaced on a concrete foundation eight feet deep, which required three weeks to build. The shells used weighed a quarter of a ton and each discharge cost Japan $400. The expense of a six-hour bombardment was something over three hundred thousand dollars. "The 'babies' are crying," observed Oshima drily, as he paused a moment in his instructions. "To-morrow night--who of us will hear them?" "To-morrow night," exclaimed a young lieutenant with enthusiasm, "they will cry no more, unless it be for joy. The fortress will be ours!" Oshima glanced at his junior officer from beneath his dark eyebrows, but said nothing. The night passed, and the morning of the Mikado's birthday dawned upon the beleaguered city, upon the fair hill-tops and the rippling sea, upon the stern, bearded faces of the defenders and the eager brown hordes crouching in the trenches outside the fort. Slowly the hours dragged past, the siege-guns dropping their shells into the sand-slopes and tearing open great craters. Then shrapnel was hurled at the parapets, a hundred shots a minute. Not a fort replied. As silently as the Continental troops at Bunker Hill, the Russians awaited the approach of their foe. At last the signal was given. The little brown men swarmed out of their trenches and up the fatal slope. Then at last the answer came, in a blinding flash and stunning roar from the embrasures. When the smoke cleared away not a living man was left in sight, save a few whose wounds were not immediately fatal, and who lay in the hot sun helplessly awaiting death. Another onrush of the diminutive assailants, another crashing discharge of artillery and rifle fire. A few survived, this time, and sheltered themselves in the gaps made by bursting shells. Again a host of assailants springing upward over the bodies of the fallen. Among them were the men commanded by Oshima. The young lieutenant, escaping the first fire and forgetting all caution, sprang ahead of the line, waving his sword and shouting "_Banzai!_" He reached the ramparts and for an instant stood erect upon them, a brave young figure against the blue sky. Then he toppled over into the fort and was never seen again by his comrades. Once more those who had not fallen burrowed in the sand-holes until the final charge was ordered. An Osaka shell had made a breach in the ramparts through which the Russian rifles barked viciously. Oshima's company sprang toward the opening, only to find it guarded by a bristling hedge of bayonets over which the rear ranks were firing as regularly as on parade. "Forward!" ordered Oshima, pointing to the breach with his sword. A clump of Japanese soldiers sprang in front of the entrance and dropped in their tracks, pierced by half a hundred bullets. Their places were instantly taken by another squad, who reached the line of bayonets. There was a fierce hand to hand fight for a minute. The opening was so narrow that only a few could occupy it at the same time. These few, overpowered, pierced by the lunging bayonets of the Russians, staggered backward and fell, heaping the pile of slain before the redoubt. There was an instant's hesitation--then a dozen brown men _dropped their muskets_ and ran in directly upon the bayonets, which flashed in the sunshine as they were driven home. Before they could be withdrawn from the bodies of their voluntary victims the remainder of the Japanese company sprang in over the bodies of their comrades and the Russian defenders met the same fate. Five minutes later the flag of the sunrise floated from two corners of the fort, and the ambulance corps spread out over the outer _glacis_, succouring the few wounded who survived the awful carnage. Who were the gallant twelve who, like Arnold von Winkelried, sheathed the bayonets in their breasts to disarm the foe and so afford an entrance for their comrades? Generations of schoolboys have told upon the platform how the brave Switzer fell: "'Make way for Liberty!' he cried! Made way for Liberty,--and died"; but few, save the keeper of the military archives of Japan, know the names of the twelve heroes of Fort Keekwan. The end was not yet. No sooner was the fort occupied by the Japanese than the fire of two others was concentrated upon it. The victors were in turn forced to evacuate that deadly enclosure, and plying their spades busily, entrenched themselves just below the parapets. So assault after assault was delivered, and the slain lay in heaps inside the fortifications and without, and still Port Arthur was not taken; but slowly and relentlessly the besiegers moved forward, a few feet, a single earthwork, a point here and a point there being occupied, always nearer the heart of the citadel. The last stage of the defence began with the capture of 203-Metre Hill, on November 20th, by which the Japanese secured a position from which they could search out with their shells every nook and corner of the inner harbour, where the last hope of the defenders, the remnant of their proud "Port Arthur Squadron," had lain in comparative safety since the actions in the earlier part of the war. The patched-up hulk of the _Retvizan_ was sunk at her moorings. Again and again the other vessels in the harbour were struck. The great Keekwan Mountain fort was at last taken and held, and on December 30th the Japanese stormed the key of the inner defences, Ehrlung fort, and put its weakened garrison of five hundred men to the sword. The hospitals of the city were crowded and medicines lacking. On the last day of the year General Stoessel ordered the remaining battle-ships and cruisers to be blown up, and the torpedo-boat destroyers, with a transport containing eight hundred wounded, to make a dash for Chefoo; all of which was successfully carried out. January 1, 1905, dawned peacefully. The besiegers prepared themselves for a final rush, before the contemplated horrors of which the civilised world stood aghast. But it was not to be. Early in the forenoon a man bearing a white flag was seen mounting the parapets and approaching the Japanese lines. He was courteously received and conducted to headquarters. An hour later cheers rent the air, through all the trenches around Port Arthur. The city had capitulated. General Stoessel had surrendered, to save his remaining half-starved, emaciated, faltering but gallant troops from sure destruction. What it cost that brave heart to speak the word, no one can tell. In the person of her general, Russia knelt before the despised islanders and sued for peace. It was a terrible humiliation to him, to the army, and to the haughty Empire whose boast had been: "Russia never withdraws." So ended the greatest siege, characterised by the highest art of warfare and the uttermost personal bravery of line, rank and file on both sides, that the world has ever known. FOOTNOTE: [5] The Captain Oshima who figures in these pages must not be mistaken for Lieutenant-General Oshima, whose gallant services during the siege of Port Arthur have already been chronicled in the daily newspapers of America. CHAPTER XXII. ON BOARD THE "KUSHIRO." After the fall of Port Arthur came a lull in the operations of both sides, at sea and on land. The Russians were still busy entrenching themselves in and south of Mukden, the ancient Manchurian capital. Here Kouropatkin had made his stand after the disastrous defeat at Liaoyang. Immensely strong works were thrown up, the defensive front made apparently impregnable, and St. Petersburg breathed more freely, although various indications of internal disorders gave the court concern. Oyama's men, meanwhile, prepared themselves as best they might for a winter campaign. They burrowed in the hillsides and lived in dug-outs and shanties almost within pistol shot of the Russian outposts. Supplies of food and heavy clothing reached the army by the Yalu River and from Newchwang over the railway to Liaoyang, whence they were forwarded in waggons to the front. Oshima shared a small mud hut with two other line officers. His men cheerily cooked their rations of rice over little fires in front of their dug-outs. The scene would have resembled Valley Forge, but that the troops were well clothed and under absolute discipline. On October 2nd, Kouropatkin had issued a proclamation declaring that the period of retreats was over. "The army is now strong enough to advance and compel the Japanese to do our will." This was the last effort to relieve Port Arthur--a "forlorn hope" indeed. A battle ensued, the carnage and desperate valour of which even exceeded those of Liaoyang. The Russian losses alone were nearly seventy thousand, killed and wounded. After ten days of terrific fighting they were forced back to the Hun River, where they held their own and settled down for the winter, with the Japanese facing them. The Baltic fleet, under Vice-Admiral Rojestvensky, after the Dogger Bank affair, resumed its voyage southward. It rounded the Cape of Good Hope safely and proceeded to Nossi Bé, a port at the northern end of Madagascar, where it was welcomed by the French with as much cordiality as they dared to show their natural allies, without open breach of neutrality. Here the vice-admiral spent many weeks, cleaning, provisioning, and coaling his ships and drilling his crews. A second squadron of ships, meanwhile, started from the Baltic for the East, by way of the Mediterranean and the Suez Canal, followed by still a third division. No one, outside the inner circle of the Russian Admiralty and War Office, knew where these three squadrons were to unite. Their port of destination, after the capture of Port Arthur, could, of course, be no other than Vladivostock, where two powerful cruisers, disabled by Togo in August, had been repaired, and, with a few smaller craft, still formed the nucleus of a fleet. Commander Oto Owari had hastened at once to Tokio, on his unexpected return from the North Sea, where his strategic attack upon the Baltic ships had so signally failed. He was acquitted of blame, by a court of enquiry, and was at once given the command of the torpedo-boat destroyer _Kushiro_, then fitting for service in the Sasebo docks. At this time O-Hana-San was a nurse in the military hospital at Hiroshima. She knew of Oto's appointment and, if the truth be told, dreaded the time when the _Kushiro_ should be put in commission. One day early in March she wrote to her old playmate that she and another nurse were to have a few days' leave of absence, and that one of the hospital surgeons, with his wife, was to take them on an excursion to Sasebo to see the navy yard--a privilege not often accorded, save to those in the service. Oto was delighted with the prospect of seeing Miss Blossom, and replied at once, inviting the whole party to inspect the _Kushiro_ and lunch with him on board; an invitation which was immediately accepted. It was a bright, cool day when the little nurses, wearing the scarlet cross on their arms, traversed a great paved square in the navy yard under escort of the good surgeon and his wife (also a nurse), and enquired where the _Kushiro_ was lying. The marine who had been questioned pointed out the three black funnels of the destroyer, and the commander himself met the visitors at the gang-plank. The greetings between himself and Hana were full of courtesy and entirely free from any display of sentiment. When the two pairs of dark eyes met for an instant, however, Miss Blossom dropped hers immediately and her cheeks showed a warmer brown than usual. Oto led the way to his cabin and at once offered refreshments to his guests. It was a cosy little place, with its bunk, wardrobe, writing-table and book-case, and a tiny connecting bathroom about four feet square. The party now went on deck and to their amazement found that the boat was moving swiftly through the harbour toward the sea. "It is a little surprise I planned for you," explained the gallant commander. "We were to make a short trial cruise of eighteen or twenty miles at about this time, and as the water is smooth to-day I thought you would enjoy the excursion." It is needless to say that after the first sensation of fear the guests were delighted, and even the timid nurses soon stood on the quarter-deck, surveying the scene and drinking in the cool sea-breeze with quiet happiness. On a platform just in front of them was a six-pounder rifle, fairly dazzling their eyes, so beautifully was it polished. Behind them was a screen, sheltering the "after steering position." Farther forward were the great "nostrils" of the boat, the torpedo-tubes, and alongside them was a hatch which led to the chief petty-officers' mess-room--a very small apartment, clean and shining with constant scrubbing. No one can appreciate neatness better than a hospital nurse, and Hana and her friends were loud in their praises of the condition of these hidden niches in the vessel. Going farther forward and looking down another hatch they saw the ship's cook in his galley, hard at work preparing dinner. Here also was a dynamo for supplying electricity for the search-light, which was placed between the engine-room hatches on deck. "How many men are there on board, Captain?" asked the surgeon. "Our complement is fifty-two," replied Oto. "How can they ever find room to sleep!" exclaimed Hana. "Well, there's not much room to spare," laughed the commander, who seemed very happy. "Some sling their hammocks and others sleep on the lockers. We shall seldom take a long cruise, like those of the larger ships. Here is a collapsible boat," he added. "We have two, you see, one each side. They are hoisted out by that derrick on the mast, and if we had to abandon ship they would take seventeen men each, as well as provisions and water." "What is this deck covered with, sir?" "A kind of linoleum. It is found to answer our purpose much better than wood, and is used also in regular torpedo boats. Here, by the way, are our two six-pounder guns: these and the twelve-pounder up there constitute our bow fire, to be used when we are in chase of an enemy." O-Hana-San shuddered, but said nothing. "How large is this ship?" enquired the medical man, who was bent on acquiring statistics. "About two hundred feet long, and twenty feet beam. She draws about six. Here is our conning-tower, with half-inch steel armour on it. We can steer from here, and in bad weather we have to, as one would be washed off the bridge." The diminutive Japanese ladies peered inside. There was just room for two people to stand up, in the tower, and it was fitted with a compass, steering-wheel, telegraph to the engine-room, and voice-pipes to the torpedo tubes and various other parts of the ship. "Only half an inch thick?" queried the surgeon, examining the armour plates. "How thick, then, is the ship's side?" "Oh," said Oto, with a smile, "about an eighth of an inch. It's just as good as a foot, unless a shell strikes it. Will you step down here?" he added, leading the way to a lower deck. The surgeon and the ladies tiptoed daintily down the short ladder, and found themselves in a long, low-ceiled room, with a table running along the centre, fore-and-aft, and two rows of lockers along the sides. "This is the mess-deck of the sailors--the 'Jackies,' Americans call them," explained the commander, who of course, like every one else on board, spoke only in Japanese. "We are now under the turtle-backed forecastle-deck, you see." A few men were down here, one stitching canvas, another mending his clothes, one writing a letter, and one stretched out, fast asleep. "About twenty men live down here," added Oto. "These are their hammocks, and that is the capstan engine." He pointed above his head as he spoke. "There are storerooms under our feet," he continued, "where we keep the explosive war-heads for the torpedoes. We have two eighteen-inch torpedoes carried, without the heads, in the tubes themselves. Now, shall we go up to the fore-bridge?" The surgeon, who had gazed with something of dismay at the deck which concealed such terrible munitions, mounted the ladder with alacrity, followed by his wife and her friends. All five now stood beside the great twelve-pounder. The _Kushiro_ was well out of the harbour and standing directly toward the Chinese coast. To the north-east the mountains of Korea could be dimly discerned, like blue shadows on the horizon. The ship was moving so smoothly through the water that it seemed impossible that she was slipping along at the rate of nearly twenty-four knots an hour, as the quartermaster stated, in reply to a question from Oto. The only indication of her speed was the fountain of spray rising at the sharp, straight stern, and sparkling with rainbow hues in the flashing sunshine. At this moment a petty officer approached the commander, touched his cap, and said something which the others did not hear. Oto caught up a pair of binoculars and peered intently through them at a low line of smoke ahead and a little to the north of the _Kushiro's_ course. After a moment he put down the glasses. "Port half a point" he said quietly. "Port half a point, sir," repeated the quartermaster. After a minute, "Steady!" "Steady, sir." "I think it is an American war-ship," remarked Oto pleasantly, turning to his guests. "We shall run down near her, that you may see how the foreigner looks. I--I am quite familiar with the American ships myself." The commander and O-Hana-San exchanged a swift glance of understanding, but no further allusion was made to Oto Owari's former experience, of which the little Red-Cross nurse was well aware. "Ah," exclaimed the surgeon, drawing a long breath of delight as he looked out over the sparkling waters of the Yellow Sea, "I could almost wish to change places with you, Captain! This is delicious, after the atmosphere of the hospital, the sound of groans, the odour of antiseptics and anæsthetics! I do not wonder that you chose the navy for your calling." "Well, well," said Oto, with his gentle laugh, "it does seem pleasant now, especially [here he bowed gracefully] in such exalted society. But come out on a cold, wet night in January, when a heavy sea is running, and you have to hang on to the rails of the twelve-pounder, here, to prevent yourself being carried off your feet; when the waves come pouring over the turtle-back and flood the upper deck; when you're soaked to the skin, and shivering, and thinking of--of [he glanced at Blossom] thousands on shore, snug and warm and fast asleep; when the blinding spray and sleet are lashing your face like whipcord, so you can hardly open your eyes to see the lights of the vessel you are watching ahead; and when everything down below in the wardroom is sliding about on the deck--well, I think a comfortable, dry room in the hospital would seem rather more attractive than the bridge of the _Kushiro_!" The girls smiled at his eloquence, but O-Hana-San looked troubled, and her slim brown hand shook a little as she turned to accept her old friend's invitation to inspect the engine-room. "I'm sorry," said Oto, "that we're going only two hundred and eighty revolutions now. You should see them at three hundred and fifty, with forced draft!" The engine-room was hot and oily, and not even the fascinating sight of the bright steel rods flashing up and down and the cranks whirring at the rate of four revolutions a second--a mere mist of metal--could long detain the party. They were rather glad, it must be confessed, when a hail from the deck sent the commander flying up the ladder and the rest could follow, holding their garments carefully aloof from the glistening metal work. On their reaching the deck a glorious sight met their gaze. About half a mile away was a war-ship, white as snow, coming toward them. The beautiful stars and stripes blew out over her taffrail, and a string of flags fluttered from her yard-arm. The signalman was just sending up an answer on the _Kushiro_. "It is the United States gunboat _Osprey_," said Commander Oto, with unusual excitement in his voice, and a glow on his olive cheeks. "We have invited her commander to come on board, and he has graciously consented to do so, although his ship is of a larger class than mine, knowing that a Japanese officer is forbidden to leave his ship at sea, on any pretence, in war time. See, they are lowering a boat!" The _Kushiro_ had already stopped her engines, and the _Osprey_, which had slowed down several minutes before, now followed her example. The two vessels slowly approached each other until they were but a few hundred yards apart. A boat was now seen leaving the American, and the destroyer's side was manned by jackies to receive the visitor with naval honours. In five minutes the boat was alongside, and Dave Rexdale sprang up the steps to the deck of the _Kushiro_. Oto was awaiting him, and with a smile that showed the flash of his dark eyes and white teeth, held out his hand to the American officer. "Welcome, sir," he said, in good English. "I am glad to see you again, and on the deck of my own ship." Dave stared a moment, then darted forward and wrung the hand of the elegantly uniformed commander, in whom he recognised his former steward. "Oto!" he exclaimed. "Commander Oto Owari, of His Imperial Majesty's Navy," said the Japanese, returning the other's cordial grasp. "Permit me to present you to these ladies, who do not speak English, but for whom and yourself I shall be glad to act as interpreter." Well, Commander Rexdale made his most gallant speeches to the blushing little nurses, who in turn murmured their earnest desire to break their bones and knock their heads abjectly in his august presence. Introduction to the surgeon and the officers of the ship followed. "I had my suspicions, when you pointed that gun," laughed Dave, turning again to Oto. "And when the torpedo-boat carried you off so neatly----" But here Oto interrupted with a significant glance toward his subordinates, showing that he did not care to have all the events of that voyage made public. With true Japanese hospitality he begged Rexdale to remain and join the party at luncheon; but Dave could not leave his own ship so long, and after a few minutes' conversation was obliged to leave. He explained that the _Osprey_ had been docked at Cavite during the winter; then detailed to her old station as guardship at Chemulpo, whence she was now on her way to Shanghai. "I suppose you heard this morning's news?" he said carelessly, as he stepped to the gangway. "What news?" asked Oto, with a keen look. "Rojestvensky's ships have been sighted, about half-way between Chagos and Singapore, steaming east at full speed," said Dave, in a lower tone. "It looks as if he were going to try the Strait of Malacca. Forty-two vessels reported, including transports and colliers. Good-bye!" The blue-jackets of the _Kushiro_, at the instigation of her executive, gave the departing visitors three cheers as the men let fall their oars. Sam Bolles and Dick Scupp, who happened to be in the boat's crew, stared, with open mouths, at the Japanese commander, who nodded to them in a friendly way. A few minutes later the foam gathered under the _Osprey's_ bows as she bore off toward China, and the _Kushiro_, making a graceful turn, headed toward Nagasaki, both vessels dipping their colours in salute. The news which he had heard affected Oto deeply, but he let no sign of his emotions appear to diminish his courteous hospitality to his guests. They dined in the officers' mess-room, the captain's cabin being too small for the purpose. Everything passed off happily and gaily. "Going into the harbour, sir," reported a boatswain to the commander, as the repast was finished. In a few minutes the _Kushiro_ approached her dock and made a near landing. Oto bade the visitors farewell. O-Hana-San, drawn by something in his dark eyes, lingered just a moment, as he took her hand in his own. "When you hear from me again," he whispered, "I shall have been in action. The Russian fleet is close at hand, and we may be ordered south before morning. Farewell, O-Hana-San!" "Oto! Oto! _Sayonara!_" CHAPTER XXIII. TRAPPED IN MANCHURIA. A less energetic and determined individual than Mr. Frederic Larkin might well have felt discouraged when, successively fired upon by the Japanese and rejected by the Russians, he was thrust out of Port Arthur and landed in Chefoo. His pass from the War Office at Tokio had been taken from him when he first entered Port Arthur, and had not been returned. To present himself again at General Stoessel's headquarters was out of the question, even if the means were possible. "The balloon route seems to be indefinitely suspended," mused Fred, as he rested on the hotel verandah in the Chinese city, "and without much doubt I should be definitely suspended--by the neck--if the Russians caught me a third time inside the fortress. No, there's no use in wasting time (and a good, serviceable neck) in trying to carry out home orders. I'll cable the _Bulletin_ and ask for instructions." This he did at once, and the answer arrived before night, from the editor of that enterprising sheet: "Get new pass. Join Japanese army at front. Remain till ordered home. No more balloon!" Fred laughed as he crumpled the dispatch and thrust it into his pocket. With characteristic energy he obtained passage on a vessel chartered for Nagasaki, and within a week was on his way back to Manchuria with brand-new credentials from Tokio. Landing at Antung, at the head of the Korean bay, he engaged a man and a couple of ponies to take him and his baggage to the Japanese advanced lines, north of Liaoyang. This was in late February, 1905, when the ground was frozen hard and snow lay deep in the valleys and over the ice-bound streams of Manchuria. It will shortly be seen that for once the reporter's energy proved his undoing, so far as active service at the front was concerned. It was a bright, cold morning when he mounted his pony, after many provoking delays and setbacks from the local military authorities, and rejoiced to feel that he was really on his way northward. Kanuka, the guide and porter, strode along the path in advance, leading the pack pony, while Fred followed on the other little beast, whose bad temper was out of all proportion to his size. Kanuka appeared to be a Chinaman who spoke, besides his own language--a Manchurian dialect--a very broken sort of English and Japanese. Larkin had not liked his looks, but time was precious and he hoped to get rid of the man after three or four days at the utmost. Kanuka was under-sized, and had a droop of the head which gave his eyes a sort of malevolent expression as he peered upward, under his shaggy brows. He stooped slightly, was sallow-faced, and, oddly enough, had grizzled, curly hair and a full black beard, like a Russian. He was in reality, as Fred afterward learned, a native of Eastern Siberia, though he dressed like a Chinaman and spoke like a Manchurian. For a while the little train proceeded in silence, broken only by the snorting, kicking ponies and the harsh, guttural expletives of the guide, who belaboured them with his cudgel until Fred checked him. "These ponies must last four days, my friend," he sung out. "If you keep up your style of correction there won't be more than two hoofs and an ear left by the time we reach Liaoyang." Kanuka muttered something Larkin could not understand, and pointed to a low line of clouds in the west. "What does that mean--storm?" The man nodded. "H'm. What's the nearest large town?" "Feng-Weng-Chang." "That's too far. There must be something nearer than that!" Kanuka nodded again and made a gesture toward the north. "Good place to stop, near Yalu." "Near the Yalu? But that's off our route, old chap. I guess we'll push on toward Feng-Weng-Chang. There must be some villages along the road." The guide stolidly turned and plodded on without another word save a native oath or two addressed to the pony, which responded with a squeal and a sidewise kick with one hind-foot. The clouds rose rapidly, and the cold grew more intense. The sky was now entirely covered, and a biting wind swept down through the valley of the Yalu. At noon Fred called a halt in the shelter of a clump of trees, and a hasty meal was prepared over a small fire, while the horses were given food and drink. The guide remained sullen and taciturn, but performed his duties well. Fred had a belt around his waist filled with gold pieces, as well as a pocket full of change. "Look here, Kanuka," he said, as the cavalcade resumed their march, "you bring me to a house where we can be decently comfortable for to-night, and I'll hand you ten yen, in addition to your regular pay. See?" The man shrugged his shoulders under his shaggy sheepskin cloak and pointed up to the sky. "Snow soon," he said gruffly. "House that way"; and again he indicated the north. "Well, we may have to come to it, but I don't want to go a foot off the main trail if I can help it. There are too many loose characters floating about these regions to make the country healthy for foreigners, away from the military roads--eh, Kanuka?" A gleam came into the guide's dark eye, but passed like a flash. He only shrugged his shoulders again, and resumed the weary tramp along the frozen path. Now a snow-flake floated downward and alighted on Fred's coat-sleeve. He surveyed it with interest. "Kanuka," he observed, "you're a genius. You'd be a valuable aid to General Greely, over in my country, forecasting weather. The snow has arrived--a 'local area' of it, anyway. How long do you suppose it will last?" "Two days." "Whew! It's a poor lookout for equestrian excursions to the rural districts! Here it comes, in dead earnest!" A gust of wind rushed down from the mountains, and in a minute the air was full of fine drift which stung the faces of men and horses like needles. The ponies whirled round and it was only by the utmost efforts of the rider and his attendant that they were forced to go on. The landscape was now almost entirely lost to view. All Fred took note of was the snowy mane of his pony and the bowed back of the guide, urging the pack-horse up the path, which had of late grown much rougher and steeper. Hour after hour passed. Fred, buffeted by the blast and half-frozen as he crouched on the saddle, suddenly realised that it was growing darker. Night was falling. The new snow was now over the horses' fetlocks, and in places the drifts were nearly to the stirrups. "Where are we, Kanuka?" "Not far from Yalu. See--good house ahead!" Fred wiped the frozen snow from his eyelashes and peered over the horse's head. Sure enough, there was the welcome sight of a light, gleaming hospitably through the gathering darkness. "Good!" he ejaculated with stiff lips, under his icy moustache. "I thought we should find somebody living on this old Feng-Weng turnpike." "This Yalu road," said the guide. "What, have we left the main trail?" "Two hours ago. No good to keep same road. All go sleep there--no wake up." The man had to shout to make himself heard above the roar of the storm. Fred did not like this independent change of route, but going back was out of the question, and he was too cold to argue, with fire, shelter, and food close at hand. "All right," he said briefly. "Keep on. We'll talk it over afterward." Ten minutes later Kanuka halted before the door of a rude hut, which communicated with two or three small wings or out-houses. It was built of mud and rough stones and thatched with straw. There were several houses similar in character farther down the road. The little settlement was in a sheltered nook between two high hills, which, as the valley ran east and west, protected the huts, or hovels as they might well be called, from the full force of the gale. Kanuka knocked at the door with his club, but it was some time before it was opened, although the light burning within, shining through the small window, showed that the occupants were awake. The guide was redoubling his blows and shouting in his own language, when the door swung inward, and an old woman appeared in the opening. A low colloquy ensued, and then Kanuka turned to his employer. "She says we may spend the night here," he said, in better English than he had yet used. "Go you in and get warm, sir. I will care for horses." With some difficulty Fred dismounted and stumbled in at the open doorway. He found himself in a small low-browed room, so filled with smoke that his eyes tingled, and so dirty that, hardened traveller as he was, he hesitated for a moment before removing his heavy coat. The aged crone paid no further attention to her visitor, but resumed her preparations for the evening meal, which had been interrupted by Fred's appearance on the scene. There was a broad, irregular fireplace on one side of the room, and here a fire was blazing, with a black pot, from which rose a not unsavoury steam, suspended over the flames. Mumbling to herself, the mistress of the hut--for such she seemed to be--occupied herself in stirring the contents of the pot, and in dragging a small wooden table to the centre of the floor, which, like the table, the chairs, the walls, and the old woman herself, was grimy and redolent of filth. Accustomed to adapt himself to all sorts of strange surroundings the reporter now removed his outer garments, and approached the fire with a propitiatory word to the woman; but she responded merely by pointing impatiently to a bench, and turning her back upon him. Nothing daunted Fred drew the bench nearer the fireplace and proceeded to thaw out his benumbed fingers with every outward appearance of content and satisfaction. To please himself rather than his hostess, who he knew could not understand a word he spoke, he continued to soliloquise aloud. "You are not very sociable, ma'am," he said cheerfully, spreading out his hands to the blaze, "but actions speak louder than words, and the prospect of that 'boiled dinner' in the kettle fully compensates me for the lack of conventional attentions. Permit me!" He saw that she was about to lift the pot from the fire, and stepping in front of her he proceeded to relieve her of the task, to which, in truth, with her bent and aged form, she hardly seemed equal. A minute later the contents of the pot were heaped in a large wooden platter on the table. At this interesting point Kanuka entered from a rear door, stamping off the snow, and took his place on the bench beside Fred. "Don't apologise, brother," said the latter, with perfect good-humour. "In great emergencies all men are free and equal--as they were born. See Constitution of the United States of America, line 3. Suppose we draw this seat up to the board, which groans with the delicacies of the season?" Kanuka assented with a grunt, and, their hostess having supplied each with a large wooden spoon, they proceeded to eat from the dish; the "delicacies" being found to consist of rice, with some other unknown vegetables and bits of boiled beef. There was but little said during the meal. The two natives ate in silence, and Fred was too much occupied in avoiding doubtful ingredients, in his own share of the common mess of reeking food, to put any unusual strain upon his conversational powers. The withered crone now produced a flask of vodka, which Fred at first refused, but of which the others partook freely. The effect of the liquor was to loosen their tongues somewhat, and they conversed with each other in low gutturals. Presently the woman took the vodka flask and left the room, returning shortly with a mug full of liquor, which she again proffered her guest. "She has mixed it with snow," interpreted Kanuka, as she urged it upon him. "It is weak and will not hurt you." Not to seem discourteous Fred drank a little, but soon drew back from the table. "I'm not thirsty, Kanuka," said he, "but I am tired and sleepy. Are the animals provided for?" Kanuka nodded. "Warm, and supplied with food." "And my packs?" "They are in the out-house." "Very well; I'll go to sleep, if the lady of the house will point out my bedroom." Kanuka spoke to the woman, who withdrew for a moment. She came back with two skins, one of a reindeer and the other a shaggy pelt which Fred did not recognise. She threw these down in a corner of the room, opposite the fire. "There is your bed," said the guide. "Sleep well." "Same to you," said Fred, yawning. "Good-night, ma'am!" Neither of the Manchurians paid the slightest attention to him as he spread the rugs and stretched himself at full length between them. The wind roared around the little hut, and he could hear the snow beating against its sides. Before long Kanuka and the woman left him alone, having carefully covered the coals of fire with ashes, just as he had often seen his grandmother cover them in his New England home. Thinking about that home, and listening to the storm, he was soon sound asleep. The travel-worn correspondent had a curious dream. He thought he was back on the old farm in Brookfield hoeing corn. There was snow between the hills, and instead of drawing up warm, brown earth around the six-inch blades of corn, he packed them nicely in snow, shivering as he did so. There were icicles on his hoe and he could hardly have kept at work had he not been aided by two Manchurian ponies who pawed the snow toward the hills, and asked him to hurry, for a balloon was coming for them at precisely four o'clock. He was by no means surprised to hear them speak, especially as one of them was dressed in a ragged gown and the other in a sheepskin cloak. "What time is it?" asked the old-woman pony sharply. He was too cold to look, and both ponies started to fumble at his watch-guard with their hoofs. Their eyes flashed fire. He began to be afraid, and made a tremendous effort to push them back, but he could not move a finger. With a cry of terror he awoke. Awoke to find himself bound, hand and foot, with the light of the greasy lamp shining in his face. The old hag was stooping over him and drawing his watch from his pocket. By the dim light in the room he saw half a dozen wild-looking men standing around him. All were armed and their bearded faces were wolfish. Kanuka knelt beside him tying the last knot in the rope that bound his ankles together. As he caught sight of Fred's wide-open eyes fixed upon him he uttered an exclamation and drew a long knife from his belt. CHAPTER XXIV. THE LITTLE FATHER. Although the correspondent of the _Bulletin_ was not aware of the fact when he started on his eventful journey northward, active hostilities had already begun at the front. The two immense armies, as we have seen, lay entrenched, facing each other, in lines extending, nearly one hundred miles from east to west, across the railroad south of Moukden, the ancient capital of the Manchus. While the Japanese had thrown up temporary earthworks here and there, and of course had taken advantage of the configuration of the ground to secure their positions against surprise, as well as to afford shelter for their troops against the inclemency of the Manchurian winter, the Russians were far more strongly fortified and were determined to hold their ground. Railroad trains, running between Moukden and Harbin, their great military base, supplied them with constantly renewed stores of ammunition, food, and clothing, and, moreover, removed the sick and wounded from the front and filled their places with fresh recruits as fast as they arrived from the west over the Trans-Siberian route. Such was the situation when Field Marshal Oyama, having kept his vast armies under perfect discipline all winter, and replaced the losses incurred at Liaoyang, determined to move on the enemy, who, refreshed and confident, awaited behind their ramparts the advance of the Japanese. Exactly the same tactics were employed as at Liaoyang. The ends of the hundred-mile frontal line struck heavily, and bent the Russian bar of steel inward at both extremities. The attack began on February 20th, and four days later the Japanese were in possession of a strong Russian position at the village of Tsinketchen, far to the east of Moukden. At the same time the Japanese left wing began its march on Sinmintin, at the western end of the line. The Russians, out-flanked, fell back. The extremities of the two wings would doubtless have been effectively reinforced had not the crafty Oyama delivered a simultaneous assault upon the very centre at Putiloff, or "Lone-Tree Hill," to use the name that soon became familiar to newspaper readers all over the globe. A furious artillery fire was opened upon this hill by the Japanese. It was taken and retaken. The scenes that had horrified the world at Port Arthur and Liaoyang were repeated. Assault after assault was delivered, but for a week the devoted band of Muscovites held that little acre of ground on the hill-top, while regiment after regiment of the soldiers of Nippon melted away before the terrific fire from the fortress. It was like wading up streams of molten lava, to fight a volcano in full eruption. The Russians were never driven from the hill by direct assault; but Kouropatkin, seeing his wings bent inward and backward farther and farther, and his front once more assuming the terrible horse-shoe shape, reluctantly gave orders to his brave men to withdraw from Putiloff and fall back on the line of the railroad. In the division of the Japanese troops to whom the capture of this hill--the keystone of Kouropatkin's arch--was assigned was the regiment in which Oshima served. Thus far Oto's old friend had seemed to bear a charmed life. He had fought in battle after battle, but had received no wound of any moment. His company had been decimated again and again, but the ranks had been filled and the stern young captain still held his place in front, as it wheeled into line when the regiment was called upon for new duties. Upon hearing the order to move upon Lone-Tree Hill, the men set up a cheer. The officers burnished their swords and stepped alertly to and fro, aligning the ranks and glancing along the files to see that every equipment was in order and every man ready. This was in the early afternoon. It was understood that the artillery would open upon the hill batteries at sundown, and two hours later the assault would be made. Impatiently the compact mass of small brown men waited for the word. The great siege guns, brought with infinite labour from Port Arthur, roared and thundered. Putiloff answered, and shrapnel burst over the Japanese troops, who burrowed as best they might in trenches and holes and behind every hillock, while they hastily devoured their scant field rations. The night came on, dark and heavy. At last the welcome word was received. "Forward!" cried Oshima, brandishing his sword so that it glittered in the flashes of the cannon. The regiment hurled itself upon the slopes of the hill, solid shot ploughing awful furrows through their ranks. The survivors kept on, undaunted. That night meant for them victory or a glorious death. No one thought of retreat. As he saw his men swept downward by the pitiless hail of steel, Oshima lost all sense of danger, and the old spirit of his Samurai ancestors blazed out. "Strike! Strike!" he shouted to his men, springing in front of them as the broken line faltered for a moment. "Up the hill! It is ours! _Banzai dai Nippon!_" With the wild cheer of Japan upon his lips he suddenly threw his arms aloft and fell headlong to the ground. The column swept by and over him in the darkness. Then two slightly wounded men raised their captain, his hand still grasping his sword, and tottered down the hill with him, stumbling over the bodies of the fallen. Not far in the rear were Red-Cross workers, and the silent figure of the brave officer was borne swiftly to a hospital tent, where he partly regained consciousness. He was shot through the body, and the surgeons shook their heads as they examined the wound. Still, there was a chance for his life, and Oshima was despatched to the coast, the first part of the way in an ambulance, then by railway. At Antung he remained until the hospital ship was ready to sail with its sad freight of torn, pierced, and mangled soldiers. The staunch vessel--painted white, with a broad green stripe along its hull, like the sash of a military surgeon--conveyed him safely to Hiroshima, where he was placed in a cot near an eastern window. Kind hands ministered to him, and gentle faces bent over him. As he recovered full possession of his senses he saw one sweet face that was familiar to him. "Hana!" he whispered. "O-Hana-San, is it you?" Day after day the battle raged in Manchuria. Shells began to fall in Moukden, and in an hour the city was a scene of ghastly confusion and panic. Hospital trains, loaded to the doors with wounded and dying, pulled out of the station, the groans and shrieks of the sufferers mingling with the clank and clatter of the iron wheels. Men and women rushed to and fro in the muddy streets--for this was the first week in March, and a few warm days had turned snow and ice to mire, ankle deep--and fought each other in a frenzied fear as they struggled for places in carts and railway cars, with such of their personal effects as they could carry in their arms. Thieves and drunken soldiery looted shops and private houses boldly. It was rumoured that the awful Japanese line was closing in on the north, and that the railroad would be cut. This added to the panic. Dazed, mud-stained, deafened with the roar of battle, half senseless with intoxication, thousands of stragglers and camp-followers staggered through the city, joining the mad rush. "To the north! To the north!" was the one thought, the one wild cry. Emerging from the densely populated town, the throng of refugees fled up the valley. Wherever the defile narrowed, the crowd crushed together, screaming, pushing, fighting their way on; through back alleys of little villages on the route; along the railroad track, separating to allow a train to roar through their midst, shaking frenzied fists at it as it passed and left them behind; flinging away food, clothing, household treasures to which they had thus far clung mechanically; shouted at by retreating battalions whose progress they blocked, and cursed by artillery-men as the horses sprang forward over the clogged and miry road, or crashed through the low willows and over mud-walls surrounding the hovels of the natives; still on and on, through the black night and the chill grey dawn, the frantic multitude streamed northward toward Harbin and safety. At Tie Pass there was a halt. Here Kouropatkin made a desperate attempt to stand, and did succeed in checking the enemy until the shattered Russian forces could reunite in the semblance of a disciplined army, while the wounded, and such stores and guns as had been saved from the disastrous defeat, were sent northward. Then the army fell sullenly back, a few versts each day, repulsing the attacks of the exhausted Japanese. These attacks diminished in number and force, until Kouropatkin could breathe more freely and even consider establishing a new line of permanent defence. Before, however, he could reorganise his troops or lay out a single line of fortifications a despatch flashed over the wires from St. Petersburg removing him from the supreme command of the army and appointing General Linevitch, his former subordinate, in his place. Like a brave and generous soldier he not only laid down his command without a word of protest, but at once petitioned for and obtained permission to serve under Linevitch. Truly, the "Little Father" had reason to be proud of his children! But the Czar of all the Russias, in his white palace on the Neva, had cares beyond even those which gathered, bat-winged, around the prospects of his army in the Far East. Throughout his vast realm, from the Caucasus to the Baltic, from Sebastopol to the Arctic Seas, in the remote provinces and at the very gates of his palace, signs multiplied that a long-dreaded event was coming to pass: the Russian peasant was awakening! Aroused by proclamations of Nihilists, by sermons and appeals from religious leaders, by stinging words from such patriots as Tolstoi and Gorky, the peasant stirred in his long sleep, he smiled in his stupid, good-humoured, harmless way; he grew graver as the import of the fiery words that were borne on every breeze penetrated his dull brain. Cruelty--oppression--injustice--could it be true? Nay, the Little Father would put it all right. They would tell him about it; they would go to him with these wrongs as a little child kneels at his bedside and prays sleepily and trustfully, to his Father in Heaven; and he, the Ruler of all the Russias, the White Czar, the father of his people, would listen and would hear their prayer and grant relief, if relief were needed. A great throng of such peasants, headed by a priest, flocked to the city, asking, poor, bewildered souls, to see the Czar, and to be allowed to pray to him. They were rebuffed and roughly ordered back by men with glistening bayonets. Then, still childlike and foolish, they actually tried to force their way to their father's house, believing that although his minions might use them rudely, he, whom they loved with all their big, ignorant, devoted hearts, would suffer them to come unto him, and forbid them not. Another surge forward, over the paved street, to the fatal bridge. "Halt! Disperse!" They would not. Their priest leader held his cross aloft and waved them on. Then it came--a rattling crash like the near thunder close upon the lightning. Shrieks and moans of dying men and children. Another volley, and another. And the Little Father was so near--could he not hear them? The people fled from the cruel streets, the red pavement, the hoofs of the war-horses and the flashing sabres of their riders. Back, in a helpless, frightened throng, to the open country, as the fugitives fled from Moukden. But the fierce enemy that was behind them was no foreign foe, thirsting for their lives. It was their Little Father! Did the young, black-bearded Czar think of all this, as he sat in his gorgeously draped throne room in the palace? Did his cheeks blanch and his lips quiver at the distant sound of musketry in the streets of St. Petersburg? Who can tell? Only He who knoweth all hearts and whose love holds both Czar and peasant. While Russia was thus torn with internal troubles, the situation in the East grew daily more threatening. The danger was now apparent to all. At Harbin the great railway forks, one branch going southward to Port Arthur, and the other continuing eastward to Vladivostock. If the Japanese, pushing northward with their victorious hosts, could cut the line east of Harbin Junction, Russia's one port, her last hope of sea power on the North Pacific, would be at the mercy of the Japanese. Despatches were sent to Rojestvensky to hurry his ships to the scene of war. Two squadrons were already united under his command. A third was on its way through the Mediterranean, and shortly afterward rendezvoused at Jiboutil, near Aden, at the southern end of the Red Sea. This third squadron was also ordered to proceed eastward across the Indian Ocean at full speed, and overtake the Baltic fleet if possible. Early in April Rojestvensky's ships were sighted off Acheen, at the extreme north-western point of Sumatra. CHAPTER XXV. LARKIN RETIRES FROM BUSINESS. When Fred Larkin grasped the full significance of the situation in which he found himself, on awaking in the Manchurian hut, he felt that he was nearer death than ever before in all his hardy, adventurous life. At Santiago, indeed, he had thought himself led out to execution, but this had proved to be a mistake. The Spaniards were but conducting him, under a flag of truce, to the American lines, where he was exchanged for a prisoner of war, one of their own countrymen. In this lonely hovel, in one of the remotest and dreariest districts of Manchuria, cut off from all hope of help, not only by the leagues that lay between him and the travelled road to Feng-Weng-Chang, but by the storm which now shook the hut with its fierce blasts; surrounded by lawless men who thirsted for gold and cared not a whiff from their pipes for a human life; trapped by the cunning guide, and completely at the mercy of his wolfish captors as he lay before them pinioned hand and foot; he realised in a swift flash of thought that he could be saved by little short of a miracle. Still he would try. He was not a man to give up while the faintest shred of hope remained. "What do you want, Kanuka?" he asked quietly, looking his treacherous guide straight in the eye. The villain hesitated, and Fred knew his life hung by a hair. The blade did not fall. "We want everything you have, everything!" said Kanuka. "If you resist we kill you." "You would gain nothing by that," said the prisoner. "I am perfectly helpless. Who are--your friends?" "They are not my friends; they are my men. If I lift my finger to them, you are dead. Is it not so?" he added, turning to the motley crew and speaking in his own tongue. A low snarl went round the circle, and they showed their teeth. They drew still nearer, and fingered the hafts of their knives, which Fred could see sticking in their girdles. Two of the men carried guns. One of the band, younger than the rest, seemed to have no weapons, and remained in the background. The old woman had succeeded in getting possession of the watch and dangled it so that the light shone upon it. "I don't doubt your word, Kanuka," observed Fred in the same calm, even tones. "Those followers of yours seem quite willing to finish up the job. But you know better than that. _You_ are an intelligent man." The guide could not conceal a gratified expression, and drew himself up a little. "_You_ know," continued the reporter, "that if I should be killed there would be a hue and cry after the American war correspondent. The newspaper I represent would spend a fortune in hunting down every man that took part in the murder. Very likely the United States Government would take the matter up, and you would be caught and executed, every man of you, at Pekin, if it took ten years. Probably you remember what happened to the men that put two or three American missionaries to death, a few years ago? Yes, I thought so. And the Chinese method of execution is so very unpleasant, in such cases!" Kanuka stood erect, motioned back his men, and gnawed his moustache, frowning irresolutely. "You joke!" said he, with a meaning gesture of his knife. "Joke? Not a bit of it. I never felt less like joking," said Fred honestly. "I want to get out of this scrape alive, and to do that, I must save you. If I die, you die, and the old lady and your hopeful crowd there, as sure as fate. Pekin never lets an international offence go; and if Pekin would, Washington wouldn't. You know that as well as I do." "What you propose?" asked the chief. "Well, as I said, I can't help your taking all my worldly goods," said the reporter. "The next thing is to get rid of me without imperilling your own head--or limbs," he added significantly. The bandit shuddered in spite of himself. He had witnessed the execution of a Boxer murderer, near Pekin. Fred went on: "I would suggest that as soon as the storm will permit you to move--I assure you I am ready to take considerable risk on the road--you take me, blindfolded if you wish, to some point from which I can strike out for the settlements. You, meanwhile, with your men, could make tracks for parts unknown--of which there happens to be a good supply within easy reach of this forsaken hole." "You would inform on us," growled the ex-guide. "We should have Japanese police on our trail in twenty-four hours." "I would give you my word of honour----" The rascal shrugged his shoulders. "I would not trust you. You newspaper men tell what stories you like." Fred flushed, and felt an overpowering desire to plant one good blow between the man's sulky, sneering eyes. "Oh, well," he said, "settle it yourself. You asked my advice and I've given it. When the Chinese authorities are getting ready to deal with you, don't blame _me_, that's all." Kanuka turned to his men and talked to them rapidly and in low tones. So far as Fred could judge, the old crone and the youngest of the bandits, who, he afterward learned, was her son, were advocating his liberation. The rest clamoured for blood. The chief seemed undecided, and fingered his knife nervously. At last he spoke to his followers sharply, with an abrupt gesture of dismissal. To Fred's relief they all filed out, leaving him alone with the chief. "They think it would be foolish to let you go," said the latter. "Dead men tell no tales. But they are beasts--pooh! As you say, I am an intelligent man. You shall not die to-night. In the morning we shall see." He knelt again beside his prisoner and rummaged his pockets thoroughly, drawing out their contents and surveying them by the light of the lamp. The papers he threw contemptuously into the fireplace; the silver change and small articles he thrust into his own pouch. Fortunately Fred had taken a purse containing about fifty dollars worth of gold pieces, to use on his trip. To the Manchurian this was an enormous sum of money, and it did not occur to him to examine his captive's belt, which contained a much larger amount. "Look here, old chap," said Fred, as Kanuka rose to his feet with his plunder, "ease up these ropes a little, will you? They cut me, and I want to sleep." The man gave a contemptuous grunt, and, bestowing a kick on the helpless prisoner, retired without a word. Again Fred's blood boiled, but he realised his utter helplessness, and lay quietly, trying to concoct some plan for escape, or for action, on the following day. It was evident that he had fallen into the hands of that dangerous and as yet only partly understood power, the Boxer element of north-eastern China. In 1901 these bandits, or highwaymen,--for such they really were, and are--terrorised a district extending from Newchwang to Kirin. Their operations were so systematic and successful that Chinese as well as foreign merchants finally had come to recognise their authority, and it is said that an office was actually established in the port of Newchwang where persons desiring to import goods might secure insurance against molestation from the robbers. When the insurance was paid for, the bandit agent gave the merchant a document and a little flag, and with this document in his possession, and the flag nailed to his cart or boat, he travelled in safety. As soon as the real Boxer movement was disposed of by the Powers, and by China herself, the Russians undertook the suppression of this systematic brigandage, by which some thousands of outlaws were living in insolent security. Moukden was garrisoned with twelve thousand soldiers, and troops took the field against the robbers. In less than six weeks three thousand bandits were killed and nearly as many captured. The remainder scattered and fled to the fastnesses of the mountains, where they were hunted like wild beasts. As an organised force, they were, indeed, "suppressed"; but strong gangs of criminals escaped, and during the early months of the Japanese war they gained courage and assumed their unlawful calling with something of their former boldness. Fred knew all this--he had followed the recent history of China carefully--and he had no doubt whatever that he had fallen into the hands of one of the scattered bands of this still powerful organisation. He knew, moreover, that a more daring and remorseless set of men never gained their living by highway robbery than these same bandits, through whose agent, Kanuka, they had so cleverly entrapped him. Revolving these things in his mind and trying to concoct some sort of plan for escape, the reporter at last fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, in spite of the pain caused by his bonds, and the presence of two bandits who had remained to watch the prisoner. When he awoke it was broad daylight. The mistress of the hut was occupied in preparing another seething mess over the fire, exactly as she had been when he entered the hut. Fred felt lame and sore from head to foot, and soon discovered, moreover, that he had taken a severe cold. He was hot and feverish, and had a weak longing for his mother's cool, soft hands upon his burning forehead. The old hag presently lifted the pot from the fire, groaning as she did so. "I wish I could help you, ma'am," said Fred, trying to assume a cheerful tone, "but 'circumstances over which I have no control,' you know!" She seemed to gather the import of his words--perhaps remembering his courteous assistance on the preceding night--and dishing out a portion of the nauseous mess offered it to him. When she saw that he was so tightly bound that he could not help himself to food she uttered an exclamation in which he recognised the first hint of pity among his captors. Looking over her shoulder with evident apprehension, she freed his right arm, and when he indicated with a feeble smile and shake of his head that it was benumbed, she rubbed it with a not unwomanly touch until he could use it and feed himself. Having forced down a little of the distasteful food, to avoid hurting her feelings, he lay back on his couch and motioned to her to lay the rope lightly over his arm, giving it its former appearance of confinement. This she did at once, and not too soon, for the whole gang of seven men, including Kanuka, trooped in for their breakfast a minute later. The storm continued through the day, and Fred found his condition unchanged, save that he was allowed to walk about the room a little, under guard of three of the ugliest-looking of the bandits. As night came on once more, his feverishness increased. He felt faint and giddy. He had no doubt that his drink was drugged the day before, and it was quite possible that the process--though for what purpose he could not guess--was being kept up. He was too feeble to care much what he ate or drank. All he wanted was to be left alone. At about midnight on the second night in the hut, as the sick man was tossing on his filthy bed, the inner door of the room opened softly, and the woman appeared, shading the flame of the lamp with her hand. Her son, who had been left on guard, was standing silently by the window, gun in hand. The aged crone now knelt beside Fred, and noiselessly cast off the ropes, which had been tied with less caution than at first, it being deemed impossible that the captive, weakened as he was, could make his escape. Fred managed to gain his feet, and stood stiffly, half supported by the woman. She led him to the outer door, which she opened. The stars were shining, and it was bitter cold. The young bandit now slipped around the corner of the house and presently reappeared with one of the ponies, upon which Fred managed to scramble. The old woman gave the reporter a soft pat on the back and whispered something to her son, who stooped and kissed her! Then she went into the house, wiping her eyes on her ragged skirt, and leaving the two men outside, free. Fred soon found that he could not sit upright in the saddle without help, and the bandit, slinging his gun over his back, put his arm around the rider and so held him on, while the pony picked his way down the mountain trail. In places the drifts made the path almost impassable. The wind still swept fiercely through the defile, although the night was clear. Once the young robber stopped suddenly and unslung his rifle; but the noise he had heard was but that of a falling tree, and he resumed his steady walk beside the pony. How he survived that night Fred never knew. It was a vague, horrible dream of snow and ice, of piercing chills and fever heats, of monotonous plodding through the snow, alternating with plunging descents over rough ground, that seemed to jar him to pieces, while every bone and muscle was a separate anguish. Still on and on, the guide saying never a word. Before dawn Fred dimly understood that they had struck the main road to Wiju. Less snow had fallen here, and their progress was more rapid. Early in the forenoon the noise of wheels and loud voices was heard on the path behind them. Whether or not it was a band of pursuers he neither knew nor cared. The world was one wide horror of pain and glaring light and bursting misery of head and limb. The cavalcade in the rear overtook the rider. It was a train of three ambulance carts returning from the front with wounded Japanese. The guide spoke briefly to the leader and Fred was lifted from his horse with delicate brown hands as gentle as a woman's, and was placed on a cot in one of the wagons. The young bandit disappeared. Fred never saw him again. Four days later the editor-in-chief of the _Bulletin_ took up a bit of yellow paper and read: "Frederic Larkin, Correspondent, sick in hospital at Hiroshima." The chief smiled grimly as he laid down the cable despatch. "In one of his scrapes again!" he said, tossing the paper over to his sub. "We shall have to depend on the Associated for a while!" CHAPTER XXVI. "THE DESTINY OF AN EMPIRE." On the morning of the twenty-seventh of May a light fog hung over the Yellow Sea and the Straits of Korea. Gulls sailed in leisurely fashion above the dull-green surface of the water, or dropped with sudden scream as their keen eyes discerned some floating scrap of food; but the supply was scarce, for few ships had of late passed that way, and the sea, ordinarily alive with junks and steamers and modern sailing craft, was as deserted as some far-off Polar bay which no adventurer's keel had yet ploughed. The gulls seemed uneasy, in spite of the desolateness of the broad expanse of heaving swell. They called to each other with warning cries as if some hidden danger were near. What lay concealed beneath those fleecy folds of mist, which already began to mellow to golden in the rays of the rising sun, and to drift southward before the light breeze which was springing up? What would be revealed when the white curtain should lift? For many weeks, since the day when the Russian fleet passed the Straits of Malacca and had been reported from Singapore, the naval forces of Japan had seemed hardly more than a myth. "Where is Togo?" was the question on every lip. "Will he proceed southward and meet the enemy in the China Sea? Will he lie in wait for them between Formosa and the mainland--that mine-strewn sea where the fair Isles of the Fishermen, bristling with fortifications, bait the open trap? Will he lure them eastward, past the Philippines, to the Pacific, and attack them there, or will Japan allow her enemy to take refuge in her one port of Vladivostock, there to be brought to bay and pulled down as were her proud battle-ships and cruisers at Port Arthur?" Back and forth under the sea flashed the questions and the appeals for news; but Japan gave no answer; her admiral was dumb. He and his ships disappeared from view. Newspaper correspondents burdened the cables with surmises, but no news. Every naval expert had his opinion to give--at space rates--but home editors and the great, waiting, impatient public clamoured in vain for authentic information. At the War Office in Tokio a few men, small of stature and suave in demeanour, bowed and smiled as of old. They were gentle, courteous, mild, and inscrutable. They received and sent despatches without a gleam of emotion in their dark faces. They saw, in these despatches the North Pacific, with each bay and port and headland, the approaching Muscovite enemy and the leashed fleet of Japan, as a crystal-gazer holds a far-off scene in the hollow of his hand. One day their smiles faded, for a moment, and their eyes grew stern as they dictated a new order. They were crushing an empire. In the Winter Palace of Tsarskoe-Selo a slightly built young man with a dark beard and pale, irresolute countenance paced the marble floor nervously. He had seen his proudest fortress in the East reduced to submission; his armies, whose watchword had been, "Russia never withdraws," driven back, beaten, overwhelmed by the soldiers of despised Nippon; his war-ships tortured by shot and shell, by enemies upon the sea and beneath its waters; and he had read report after report of their loss and of the death of countless thousands of men, "at the Czar's command." And now his new fleet, brought together and built up at enormous expense, but ill-manned and ill-managed, had all but finished its long voyage, and had entered hostile seas. Upon this fleet hung all his hope of retrieving the disasters of the war. One great naval victory, and Russia would be wild with joy. The past would be forgotten and the name of the Little Father once more revered. The Baltic fleet halted, for coal and provisions, off the friendly port of Saigon, the leading city of the French possessions in Lower China. Nebogatoff, with a third squadron, was hurrying across the Indian Ocean to join Rojestvensky, who now anxiously awaited his approach. The sympathies of the French ports were but half concealed; the needed supplies came in abundance. Japan calmly but sternly remonstrated at this apparent breach of neutrality, and France was obliged to warn the Russians off her coast. Nebogatoff, however, had succeeded in adding his ships to those of the larger squadrons, and Rojestvensky, with his entire fleet coaled and provisioned, was now ready for the decisive battle. Week after week passed, and still no smoke of the hostile armada appeared on the northern horizon. Compelled to change his station day by day, the Russian moved nervously here and there in the China Sea inviting attack. He sent out reports that he was about to essay the narrow passage west of Formosa, either east or west of the Pescadores; he harboured his fleet under the lee of the great island of Hainan; he professed an intention to thread the dangerous passages north of Luzon and make a dash across the open Pacific, for the friendly port. Still the wily Japanese remained silent, unheard, unseen, until the supplies of her harassed, perplexed, impatient enemy once more diminished and her bunkers were again nearly empty. At last, driven to desperation by the refusal of the inscrutable, invisible foe to emerge from the obscurity where he lurked, Rojestvensky set the signal to advance. He hoped that the Japanese had been misled by rumours of his escape to the open Pacific, and that by a direct course northward through the Korean Straits he could reach Vladivostock, now so few miles away, after his weary seven months' voyage from the Baltic. The fog of the early morning was dense. No scout-ship of the enemy was visible. It would take time to notify Togo of any movement of his adversary. Forming in double line, with strict orders for silence throughout every ship, the great flotilla got under way and started northward through the early morning mist. In days gone by the leader of an armed force could obtain information of the manoeuvres of his enemy only by means of trusty couriers. Later, written messages were despatched by aides, who brought the news and conveyed orders, riding hard or traversing the sea in swift boats. Centuries passed and the telegraph began to play its part in the transmission of despatches, to be succeeded in its turn by the field telephone. But as the Russo-Japanese war brought into practical use for the first time the terrible submarine torpedo-boat, so it found a new and marvellous medium for communication between headquarters and outposts of an army or fleet. The ancient Samurai of Nippon fought with two swords; their descendants in 1905 wielded the submarine and the wireless telegraph. As Rojestvensky's sombre fleet moved forward there were no armed scouts dashing across the waves to announce their coming; the electric cable, far below, was dumb; but the very sky above, the waters that were ploughed by the black keels, at the moment when the harassed Russians began to breathe freely, were betraying them. "At exactly 5.30 A.M., on Saturday, May 27th, a wireless message was received at the naval base of the Japanese: '_The enemy's squadron is in sight_.'" Under shelter of the island off Fusan, on the east coast of Korea, lay sixty or more grey ships, their fires banked, smoke slowly floating from their stacks. They had lain thus for weeks, waiting for that message. The instant it was received the decks of every vessel became alive with nimble sailors. Cables were slipped, fires scattered and heaped high with coal, ammunition-hoists handled, and garments flung aside as the men stripped for action. The fleet slowly moved eastward over the waters of the Japan Sea, which roughened under the wind that gathered force as day broadened. Eagerly the small brown fighting men sprang to quarters and pointed to the east, where the sky grew golden with the emblem of their nation, the Rising Sun. Before noon wireless messages brought news that the Russian fleet had chosen the eastern passage of the Straits, between the Tsu Islands and Japan. At two o'clock the smoke of Rojestvensky's flagship blurred the southern horizon. Instantly a line of signal flags fluttered to the yard-arm of the Japanese battle-ship _Mikasa_: "_The destiny of an empire depends upon this action. You are all expected to do your uttermost._" Straight on, with superb courage, came the armada of the White Czar. In the double column the weaker ships held the port positions, thus offering the least resistance to attack on that side, and at the same time blanketing the fire of the heavier turret guns of their own first-class battle-ships. A roll of smoke burst from the bows of the _Kniaz Souvaroff_, followed almost instantly by a roar from the huge twelve-inch guns of the _Mikasa_. The greatest naval battle in the history of the world had begun. The action became general. The Russian ships at the opening of the fight changed their course and endeavoured to break through the enveloping line of their foe, but were driven back at every point. The old tactics of Oyama at Liaoyang and Moukden were repeated by Togo on the sea. Once more the fatal horse-shoe front closed in. To starboard, to port, ahead, and astern the thunders of the Japanese guns dismayed the untrained sailors of the Baltic fleet. Within less than an hour the _Borodino_ was seen to be on fire. Five Japanese war-ships bore down upon her. To rescue, to save? To pour a deadlier storm of shot and shell into the doomed ship; to pierce its wounds anew, to sweep its struggling, bleeding, shrieking crew from its decks and send ship and men to the bottom. Through and through the barbette, and the hull itself, plunged and exploded the steel projectiles. Dead and dying men lay in heaps everywhere about the decks; the ammunition hoists were wrecked and the steering-gear disabled, so that the great, tortured battle-ship could only stagger over the water round and round in a circle, her remaining guns still firing at intervals, until the merciful waves swept over her, and with all on board, living and dead, she went down. The flagship bearing Admiral Rojestvensky was early singled out for attack. When the ship was in flames and in momentary danger of sinking the admiral was transferred to a destroyer, from which he was soon after taken by the Japanese and sent ashore, a prisoner, severely wounded. So the battle raged, and vessel after vessel, bearing the Russian flag, was battered to pieces and sent to the bottom, while Togo's fleet seemed to bear a charmed life. At last the merciful night, that so often has laid its quieting hand of peace upon maddened, struggling combatants by land and sea, brooded over the waters of the Sea of Japan. The few ships from the Baltic that could still move under control crept northward in the vain hope of reaching safety. There was no longer any dream of victory; escape, escape from this horrible, relentless foe, was the only thought. But while the heavier ships had been dealing deadly blows that fair May afternoon, the pack of smaller craft, the torpedo-boats and destroyers, had been for the most part held back under the lee of the islands; held back with difficulty, for their crews and officers were wild to enter the engagement. In the conning-tower of the _Fujiyama_ Commander Oto Owari chafed and fretted over the forced inaction, his dark eyes blazing and hands twitching. Before midnight the signal came down the line to advance. Silently, like wolves gathering about a wounded herd, crouching low to the ground, the pack gathered around the ill-fated, shattered fleet. Then the word was given, and they rushed upon their prey. Searchlights flashed from the beleaguered ships, as they bravely turned at bay. Again and again the wolves were driven back. More than one of the fierce assailants never returned to the charge; but the rest closed the gaps, and cutting out one after another of the Russians, set their teeth of steel into her ribs until with a great cry she succumbed. The _Fujiyama_ was foremost in every rush, and staggered under the blows she received. Oto was everywhere, with his savage little ship, launching his torpedoes at the biggest vessels of the enemy. He was in full attack upon the _Sissoi-Valiki_, one of Rojestvensky's finest battle-ships, when a great shell exploded just in front of the conning-tower of the destroyer. It was a fatal blow. Oto, with a dozen others, all of them wounded, was hurled into the sea, from which he was rescued and taken on board the _Kasuga_, insensible, and therefore blissfully unconscious that his ship had gone to the bottom. The fight drifted northward. Sunday morning dawned, "so cool, so calm, so bright." The battle was resumed, each flying ship of the Russians with three or four of the enemy hanging about her and hammering her with shell and solid shot. As on the preceding day and night the terrors of the Baltic crews were increased by the evident presence of submarines. Several of the western ships, with no hostile craft visible in the open sea, had suddenly felt the impact of an awful blow from below, followed by an explosion that tore her hull to pieces, while the unseen assailant darted off beneath the waves for fresh prey. The terrible drama was brought to a close by the surrender of Admiral Nebogatoff's ships, on Sunday afternoon, off the rocks of Liancourt. The next morning the world stood thunderstruck as it heard of the utter annihilation of Russia's proud fleet. Six battle-ships, five cruisers, and many other smaller vessels sunk, and two battle-ships, with several defence ships or destroyers, _captured_. It was this last item that was most significant. Even Spain had gone down fighting, on the coast of Cuba and off Manila, under the withering fire of Dewey, Sampson, and Schley; for the first time in modern warfare a battle-ship, nay, two of them, had run up the white flag. Truly Russia, haughty Russia, which "never carried to the front material from which to make a flag of truce," had been humbled in the dust. And in the Winter Palace of Tsarskoe-Selo the pale young Czar was weeping. CHAPTER XXVII. ORDERED HOME. "Ow-yow!" yawned Midshipman Robert Starr in the wardroom of the _Osprey_. "I'm tired of this dodging back and forth between two fires, with no chance for a slap at either of them. We might have got up a good scrap over Junk, here," he added, patting the Newfoundland's broad head, and looking reproachfully at Liddon. The dog yawned, as if in sympathy with the young officer, and stretched himself at full length on the deck, his paws under the mess-table. "You're teaching our coloured friend bad manners, Bob," laughed the ensign, giving Junk a playful push with his foot. "Get up, there, you old peripatetic door-mat, and muster on the forecastle. There's no room for yawners down here." "I consider that remark personal," retorted Bob, as he rose. "I'm going to--" Here he was interrupted by the entrance of a marine, who announced that the captain wished to see his officers in the after cabin. "What's up now, I wonder?" said Staples, leading the way to the commander's quarters. "Oh, another wildly exciting cruise to Woosung or Chemulpo, or Chefoo, or some other old Che," sighed Starr. "I never was very fond of cheese, anyway!" When they entered the cabin their undignified deportment was laid aside. Rexdale's eyes were sparkling. He evidently had important and pleasurable news to communicate. "Gentlemen," said he, "I have just received orders from the Department. The _Osprey_ is to change her station once more." Bob groaned softly, under his breath. "This time," continued Dave, "our port of destination is not Cavite or Shanghai. We are to sail due east. We are ordered home!" Every officer sprang to his feet. "Hurrah!" shouted Bob, forgetful alike of dignity and discipline. "I beg your pardon, sir," he stammered, the blood rushing to his cheeks; "but that's grand news! If the Secretary were here I'd hug him!" The commander now explained that the _Osprey_ was ordered to proceed to Mare Island, where she would be thoroughly overhauled, renovated, and practically remodelled. She was old-fashioned, but the Department believed they could make of her a valuable defence ship, in accordance with modern ideas of ship-building. As soon as she should go out of commission her officers and crew were to report, some on various war-ships in the eastern Pacific, some for shore duty, and still others, including the three officers of highest rank, at Washington, where they would be assigned to new duties. Bob's face fell a little at this announcement, but he was happy in the thought of a change, and a sojourn in home waters. Little Dobson was one of those who were to go on shore, and he had visions of a leave of absence which would give him time to race across the continent to his own home and that of a certain commandant whose daughter was named Mary. By the next mail letters went to Wynnie and Edith Black, from Bob Starr and Liddon respectively. It is needless to say that Dave wrote to Hallie within two hours after the receipt of the orders. The news quickly spread through the ship, and great was the rejoicing. While the Russian fleet was irresolutely moving to and fro in Eastern waters, and Linevitch, having succeeded Kouropatkin, was reorganising his shattered army and preparing for a new encounter with the victorious Oyama south of Harbin, the women of Japan worked unceasingly for home and country. The great military hospital at Hiroshima comprised eight divisions, with a total capacity of seventeen thousand beds. In the largest of the divisions a visitor merely passing the foot of each bed would walk six miles. Nearly all of these beds were now occupied, and Red Cross nurses from the United States passed to and fro among the sufferers, side by side with their dark sisters of the Orient, in gentlest ministration. Fred Larkin had soon recovered sufficiently to be removed to private quarters, from which, pale and emaciated, but with indomitable pluck and returning energy, he emerged a few weeks later. Letters from the _Bulletin_ recalled him to Massachusetts, and he unwillingly obeyed, realising that the great naval battle was close at hand. He read the news of the destruction of the Russian fleet the day after his arrival in San Francisco. In a small room--one of those set apart for officers--a Japanese soldier lay on a cot bed, gazing languidly out of the open window toward the east. Walls, counterpane, and the single garment--a kimono--which the patient wore, were of spotless white. Beside the bed sat a little nurse, fanning the sick man, who now and then spoke to her in his own language, though so quietly that his attendant could scarcely hear him. "O-Hana-San----" "Yes, Oshima, I am here!" "The time?" "It is morning--five o'clock." The sick man was silent for a few moments. Then his eye fell upon a streak of gold which fell upon the wall. "Ah!" he said softly, "the rising sun!" Again he was silent. When he spoke once more he turned his head toward the girl and looked into her eyes. "And--you must go--you must leave me, Hana?" "Yes," she answered sorrowfully. "I am ordered. The naval hospital at Sasebo is crowded with new patients from the great sea battle. There are not nurses enough. I am ordered to go to-day." "If you find Oto--tell him--Oshima sends his love by O-Hana-San. Tell him Oshima--is--ordered home! _Banzai dai Nippon!_" His eyes closed. O-Hana-San bent over him, then hurried for the surgeon on duty. "He will not waken," said that official. "He was a brave man." Two days later a grey-haired man passed slowly out of the door of the villa that had been the home of Oshima's boyhood, in the little town by the sea. He paused beside a red slab which was posted before the house, and on which was written, in Japanese characters, "_Gone to the Front_." Then he stooped painfully and placed beside the first post another, like many in that village, and before other homes, all over Japan. It was black, and bore the simple inscription, "_Bravery Forever_." "Oto, Oto Owari! It is I! See, it is O-Hana-San! I have come to help you--to make you well!" Oto opened his eyes and turned his bandaged head on the pillow. His little playmate of years gone by was kneeling beside his cot, her great brown eyes moist and pleading--pleading with him not to die, not to join Oshima in the strange unknown shadows to which he had gone. She was quite satisfied that her hero should be deprived of the inscription "Bravery Forever"--for the present at least! It was a hard fight for life, but the good surgeon of the ward, and the girl's unceasing care, and Oto's own fine constitution and determination to live for her, won the victory. While many died on every side, and the mournful stretchers came and went, and the black posts increased in number throughout the empire, the young commander steadily grew better, until he was discharged "well"; to take his place once more, with higher rank, on the quarter-deck of a fine new cruiser. On the day when he left the hospital he married O-Hana-San. On that same day, the fifth of September, 1905, the Treaty of Peace between Russia and Japan was signed by the envoys of the two countries at Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Two weeks after the great battle of the Sea of Japan a war-ship, with hull white as snow, was ploughing the waters of the Pacific with her prow pointed due east. Land was still in sight astern, and over her taffrail floated the beautiful Stars and Stripes. The _Osprey_ was homeward bound. THE END. BOOKS BY JAMES OTIS THE LIFE SAVERS. A Story of the United States Life-Saving Service. Large 12mo, 328 pages, illustrated, $1.50. The story is an exceedingly good one, and has interested me very much, but my especial admiration has been for the extremely intelligent and careful elucidation it contains of the methods and operations of the service. You have made it accurate, and interesting and valuable. It conveys certainly as good an idea of the operations of the Life-Saving Service as anything I have ever read. I might almost say the best. The illustrations are excellent, and taking the book all in all you may well have pride in it. (S. J. KIMBALL, General Superintendent Life-Saving Service.) ... Puts in the form of a story the obscure daring of the noble American coast-guard service full of heroic daring and of the victories of peace.--_Churchman._ This is one of the best books of this season, or any season. The book is well made, and the subject is one of intense interest. The Life-Saving Service to which it relates, is a great and noble work, the extent and value of which, perhaps, few understand.--_Living Church._ "The Life Savers" is a fascinating and instructive story of the United States Life-Saving Service.--_Boston Beacon._ THE LOBSTER CATCHERS. A Story of the Coast of Maine. 12mo, cloth, gilt top, illustrated $1.50 It is a description of the way the lobster fishery is carried on, told in the form of a story, which is full of stirring incidents other than those connected with the subject proper. The author knows how to tell a good story, and this is really one of his best.--_Boston Transcript._ The boy who prefers rather to look around him than backward, if he chances to live by the seashore, may be commended to James Otis's "Lobster Catchers, a Story of the Coast of Maine." Mr. Otis's book has a flavor of the salt sea and touches of realism in it that are certain to make it attractive.--_Churchman._ A lively yarn for the boys about coast and fishing life. Will give landsmen a good idea of some phases of existence at the shore. Handsomely issued. Will sustain the writer's popularity.--_Congregationalist._ This story of the coast of Maine describes the lobster industry, and shows how it was made to serve the purposes of a lad who was sadly in need of money, helping him on in a life of good, honest work and happiness. Mr. Otis's books are always right in tone, and likely to encourage boys in straight-forward endeavor rather than dazzle them by tales of marvellous good luck.--_Christian Register._ AN AMATEUR FIREMAN.--Illustrated by WM. M. CARY. 12mo, 326 pages, cloth, gilt top $1.50 ... A lively tale in which are depicted the wonderful machinery of the New York Fire Department and the human life that throbs with the machine. A first-rate story is mingled with the descriptive text, and the fortunes of the Amateur will absorb the interest of every reader.--_Book Buyer._ This is a capital story for boys by the well-known author of "Toby Tyler." Besides being entertaining, the book is a useful antidote to the idea that all street boys are vicious and worthless, and it enforces the lessons of industry and proper ambition.--_N. Y. Observer._ The story is droll, full of action and interesting incident.--_Churchman._ E. P. DUTTON & CO., Publishers 31 West Twenty-third Street, New York BOOKS BY PAUL CRESWICK ROBIN HOOD AND HIS ADVENTURES 8vo, cloth, gilt top $2.50 Fully illustrated in colors, and black and white by T. H. ROBINSON. To the boy mind there is no more interesting subject than Robin Hood. Mr. Creswick has made a thorough study of his subject from all sources and we believe he has written the best boy's rendering of Robin Hood yet produced. HASTINGS, THE PIRATE 12mo, cloth, gilt top, illustrated by T. H. ROBINSON. $1.50 IN ALFRED'S DAYS A Story of Saga the Dane. Illustrated, 12mo, cloth. $1.50 Full of life and fire. Reproduces the far past with vividness. The illustrations also are superior. A fine book.--_Congregationalist._ This story, so worthy the telling, has been set forth with stirring words and vigorous speech in this volume so appropriately bound and illustrated. This makes another splendid gift book.--_Living Church._ UNDER THE BLACK RAVEN Illustrated by T. H. ROBINSON, 12mo, cloth $1.50 Writers of juvenile fiction are awakening to the consciousness that the charm exercised upon sensitive children by Scott and certain other elder writers lies in the very strangeness of their style, in its removal from the newspaper and the school book. Mr. Paul Creswick gives it in a story entitled "Under the Black Raven," and recounting the deeds of Sweyn Harfage, when, armed by Alfred, he went forth to claim his own, and, after much good fighting, won it, and many another thing. The illustrations are Mr. T. H. Robinson's and are worthy of both style and story.--_Boston Journal._ A spirited and striking picture of olden times in Denmark before Christianity dawned on that land. The interest of the story centres in the conflicting claims of two Danish factions. The Ravens and The Dragons--signifying the emblems under which they fought. The story gives a vivid picture of the rude wars of remote times.--_The Outlook._ E. P. DUTTON & CO., Publishers 31 West Twenty-third Street, New York 
49735	----	FROM LIBAU TO TSUSHIMA FIRST EDITION _August, 1906_ _Reprinted_ _January, 1907_ FROM LIBAU TO TSUSHIMA A NARRATIVE OF THE VOYAGE OF ADMIRAL ROJDESTVENSKY'S FLEET TO EASTERN SEAS, INCLUDING A DETAILED ACCOUNT OF THE DOGGER BANK INCIDENT BY THE LATE EUGÈNE S. POLITOVSKY _Engineer-in-Chief to the Squadron, who was killed at the Battle of Tsushima_ TRANSLATED BY MAJOR F. R. GODFREY, R.M.L.I. NEW EDITION NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 1908 PRINTED BY HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD., LONDON AND AYLESBURY, ENGLAND. TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE No detailed account of the voyage of the Russian fleet to the Far East has to my knowledge been published. The newspapers occasionally mentioned it as being here or there, and of course its doings in the North Sea are a matter of history; but from the time it left Tangier until it met its doom at Tsushima it was practically in oblivion. By chance this book came into my hands, and I thought it would interest British readers. Much has been said in derision of Admiral Rojdestvensky's fleet, but every one must agree that it was no mean undertaking to have brought this large fleet out to the Far East from Russia and laid it alongside the enemy. This was done, in spite of the difficulties of coaling without bases and of having to repair damages in the open sea. The fleet had to pass countries that were bound by the laws of neutrality, and some that were actually hostile to it. It was driven out of many ports by the ships of its allies. In spite of all these drawbacks, it accomplished a tremendous voyage with all "its units" intact. That it failed to win the battle is in no way surprising. A great number of the ships were useless and obsolete. The crews were disheartened by the failures of their comrades at Port Arthur. The beginning of the movements which resulted in the open mutiny in the Black Sea and in the recent mutiny at Cronstadt were developing. Finally, the spirit of the officers was not of the Nelsonian standard. We find the captain of the cruiser _Ural_ flaunting his desire to surrender without striking a blow for his country. It must be remembered that the dates are those of the Old Style, thirteen days behind those of the New Style, which has not been adopted by Russia. PREFACE Eugène Sigismondovitch Politovsky, engineer-constructor of the second deep sea fleet flagship, was born at Tashkend on November 12th, 1874. He received his education at the Emperor Nicholas I. Naval Engineering School, and left it in 1897. Up to the departure of the fleet for the East he served at the Admiralty at St. Petersburg. He went down in his ship, the battleship _Kniaz_ (Prince) _Suvaroff_, in the fight of May 14th, 1905. This diary consists of extracts from his letters to his wife, which it must be understood were not intended for publication. The diary is written entirely from the personal point of view of the author. He shares with the human being dearest to him everything that occupies or interests him. He writes in fragments, with detached sentences, sometimes snatching a few spare minutes from his duties for his letters. His diary is a full one. Scarce a day is omitted from the departure from Libau up to May 11th. Involuntarily, one is impressed by the sincerity and justice of the author's tone. As he thought, so he wrote. His style is very simple and graphic, despite its fragmentary nature. The author was a constructor, not a sailor. This was his first cruise. His views of all that he saw are those of an independent person, bound by no traditions or clannishness. They appear to be absolutely impartial. In addition, through his position on the staff he knew much that remained unknown to others. From the very beginning he did not believe in success for the Russian navy. The further the fleet went the more apparent did it become to him that it was going on a desperate and hopeless mission. "If you could but imagine what is going on," he writes--"if it were possible for me to tell you exactly all about it--you would be amazed. Should I live, I will tell you afterwards. No! there is no use our fighting. Things have come to such a pass that I can only wring my hands and feel assured that no one can escape his fate, for this is the only possible assurance." He took his duty very seriously and responsibly. Damages to the ships, and especially to the torpedo-boats, were constantly occurring, and it was necessary to repair them with self-improvised means under the most trying circumstances. For instance, can you not imagine the following scene? A torpedo-boat in the open sea with a damaged rudder. Divers must be sent to repair it. The swell is tremendous, the boat is rolling fearfully, and around it are sharks. They lower the diver; he is knocked about by the sea all the time--take care that he is not permanently disabled. They watch the sharks and drive them away with shots from a rifle. In spite of all these difficulties the repairs are completed. Not one ship did the fleet leave behind, and this was in a great measure due to Politovsky. Whatever the weather, he tirelessly went from one ship to another, thinking out means of repair and accommodating himself to the most improbable and difficult circumstances, and always emerging from them with honour. Every one remembers his great work in getting the battleship _Apraxin_ off the rocks at Gothland, where she had struck, icebound, in the winter of 1899. With ships of the _Suvaroff_ class he was well acquainted. From 1899 he was assistant-constructor of the _Borodino_, and this was probably the reason of his appointment to the fleet, an appointment destined to be fatal to him. How passionately he dreamed of the arrival at Vladivostok and of the possibility of returning to Russia! Alas! fate decided otherwise. He perished in his prime, being but thirty years old. Through his death our engineer-constructors have suffered a severe loss. He was talented, clever, and energetic, with a vast experience gained from his cruise. What a valuable man he would have been in the construction of the new Russian fleet! TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER I BEGINNING THE VOYAGE PAGE The Summons--The Emperor visits the Fleet--Worries and Work--Fear of Japanese Mines--Repairs--The Order of St. Anne--Mishaps--Suspicions and Nerve-strain--On the Dogger Bank--The _Kamchatka_ "attacked"--The North Sea Trawlers--The _Aurora_ fired on--The Ship's Barber--"Foggy Albion"--Crossing the Bay--Complications--At Vigo--Protests from England 1 CHAPTER II OFF NORTH-WEST AFRICA Vigo and the Spanish--Chased--An English Escort--That Horrid Britannia!--A Memorial Service for Alexander III.--Cruisers--Tangier--Japanese Torpedo-boats at Hull--The _Suvaroff_--Morocco and the Moors--Rumours and Lies--Cutting the Cable--The _Malay_ breaks down--Vessels in the Squadron--The Captain gets some Soap!--Great Heat--Dakar--Those English again!--Coal the Weakness--Sunstroke--Japanese Spies--The Natives--Visiting the Fleet--Heat and Thirst--Whales sighted--The _Malay_ again--Strike of a Stoker 25 CHAPTER III CROSSING THE LINE Off Gaboon--Rats--Wiring for News--Requested to leave by the French--Cannibals--Awaking a King--Photographed with Royalty--A Captain reprimanded--Libreville--Dancing a Tam-tam--Andrew Andrewitch--Crossing the Line--How they fast--Great Fish Bay--A Portuguese Gunboat--Albatrosses--Dysentery--Angra Pequena--News of Mukden--English Possessions everywhere--German Sympathy--Sad News from the Front--Visiting the _Malay_--Lights put out--Rat Hunting 51 CHAPTER IV ON THE WAY TO MADAGASCAR Passing Capetown--A Steamer following--A Furious Gale--The _Malay_ again in Trouble--Fire on the _Suvaroff_--Bad Coal--General Alarm--Another Storm--Madagascar in Sight--Sickening News from Port Arthur--Hopeless Darkness--The _Orel_ invaded by Jews--A Swiss Schooner--St. Mary--Scenery and People--The French Cordial--Tang-tang--Undecipherable Signals Japanese--Mysterious Signals--The _Esperanza_ nervous--Port Arthur surrendered--Christmas--Warships sighted--Are they Japanese?--Mutiny on the _Roland_--Arrival at Nosi Be--The Admirals meet--Uncertainty and Dissatisfaction 79 CHAPTER V AT MADAGASCAR Life in a Torpedo-boat--Elephantiasis--Officers discharged--Sailors suffocated--A Funeral Service--Further Tragical Mishaps--_Suvaroff_ Shore Leave stopped--A Snake in the Hay--Requiem Service on Board the _Ural_--A Sad Spectacle--Population of Nosi Be--Frightened Oxen--Telegrams from Home--News of the _Oleg_--The _Kuban_ arrives--Prickly Heat--Rumours of Return--Luxurious but Useless Ships--Animals on Board--On Shore--Gambling--Blessing the Water--The Rainy Season--The Mad Ensign--Intense Heat--_Malay_ returns with Sick and Incapables--Arrest of Mutineers--The Foreign Legion--Pianola Musicians--Bad Meat--Shipping Cattle--Sinking of the _Bengal_ Coal Steamer--Passive Resistance 108 CHAPTER VI WAITING FOR ORDERS Uncertainty--Firing Practice--Martial Law in Russia--Narrow Escape from a Collision--The _Suvaroff_ flooded--Capture by the _Oleg_--On Shore--A Supposed Spy--German Methods--Playing for High Stakes--Our Hopeless Situation--Wasting Money--Man Overboard--Big Ships sighted--Internal Affairs in Russia--Rumours of Reinforcements--German Colliers--Confession under Difficulties--Europeans at Nosi Be--Breakdown of _Rezvy_--Complaints of Local Governor--Loss of Torpedo-boats--Shore Leave stopped--Apathy and Oblivion--A Narrow Escape--A Spy at Large--Sorting the Letters--Visit from Another Spy--Admiral Birilieff criticised--Waiting and wasting Time--A Sad Anniversary--A Comedy of Ladies--Money-changing--The Barber in Difficulties--A Humbugging Frenchman--Cleaning the Ships--Mysterious Balloon--Court-martial--Undisciplined Sailors--Rumours of Peace 134 CHAPTER VII EVENTS AT NOSI BE A Nigger Wedding--Effects of Drink--Anxiety about the _Irtish_--Quarrels among the Officers--A Suppressed Telegram--Bad News of Vladivostok--A Dummy Dirk--Indignation at Home News--Good Work by Divers--The Malagassy impertinent--The Germans jeering--The General Staff anathematised--News about Mukden--A Prophecy--Examining the _Aurora_--Waiting for the _Regina_--Signal for Departure 167 CHAPTER VIII ACROSS THE INDIAN OCEAN Leaving Nosi Be--Confusion on the _Kamchatka_--Preparations--The _Regina_ and the Japanese--A Grand Armada--Fearful Heat--Various Breakdowns--Steaming without Lights--A Star mistaken for a Ship--Cattle on Board--Chagos Archipelago--Artificer Krimmer--More Mishaps--Coaling at Sea--Look-out Boxes--Night Alarms--General Mismanagement--Success Unlikely--More Deaths--The Admiral's Weak Nerves--Guarding Divers from Sharks--Lights Ahead--Reflections on the Outlook--A Favourable Current--Opportunities of Attack--Life on Torpedo-boats--An "Iconoclast"--An Unjust Reprimand--Across the Equator--Japan's Advantages--Towing Torpedo-boats--Preparations for Fighting--Officers Drunk--Opium Cigarettes--Rats 183 CHAPTER IX THROUGH THE STRAITS OF MALACCA Mutiny--More Mishaps--Dogs--Straits of Malacca--Imaginary Torpedo-boats--Will the Japanese attack?--Passing Malacca--No News of the War--Night Attack feared--Small Hope of Victory--Passing Anamba--Bound for Kamranh--Constant Fear of Japanese--A Time of Alarms--More Deaths 221 CHAPTER X THE STAY AT KAMRANH Arrival at Kamranh--Chances Neglected--Despair--Losing Time--More Accidents--Meeting of Admirals and Captains--Post Difficulties--A Goat--Cockroaches--Hard Work repairing--A French Cruiser--Food Scarce--Admiral Folkersham Ill--Meeting of Engineers--False News--A Regrettable Incident--Forest Fires--Foreign Contempt for Russia--Requested to leave Kamranh--Where is the Third Fleet?--Two Colliers arrested--Fatal Errors--Discretion of the English Press--Phantom Submarine 238 CHAPTER XI DELAYS AT VAN FONG Sympathy of French Admiral--Japanese Spies--Expensive Food--The Russian System--A Rat Bite--Squalor--Want of Engineers--An Alarm--"Apes" and "Anyhows"--The _Oleg_--Preparations for Easter--Officers usually Drunk--Easter--Prickly Heat--Expecting Nebogatoff--Row on the _Orel_--Neutrality a Farce--Night Alarms--Buying Children--Suspicious Lights--No News of Nebogatoff--French Admiral as Poet--No News from Manchuria--Getting Cigarettes--The Annamese People--Nebogatoff in Sight--Excitement--A Good Post--French Impertinence--Poisonous Gases--Leaving Van Fong 263 CHAPTER XII PREPARING FOR BATTLE Expecting Torpedo and Submarine Attacks--Delay--Signals--Formosa--Coaling--A Steamer arrested--Love of Secrets--A Possible Japanese Scout--Contraband Ships--Preparations for Battle--An English Trick--A Balloon sighted--No Sign of the Japanese--The _Irtish_ breaks down--Hopes of reaching Vladivostok 293 NOTE BY MADAME POLITOVSKY 306 APPENDIX.--OFFICIAL STATEMENT OF THE RUSSIAN LOSSES IN THE BATTLE 307 FROM LIBAU TO TSUSHIMA CHAPTER I BEGINNING THE VOYAGE _August 28th._--Events follow each other so fast that they get confused in the memory. The return from the club in the morning, a frightened wife with a telegram, the rush from Petersburg to Cronstadt, hurried calls, appointment to the _Suvaroff_, good-byes, send-offs, a new service, etc., etc. I am not yet accustomed to my new surroundings. To-day I bade good-bye to the captain and officers of the _Borodino_, and to the foremen and workmen. They wished me good luck, drank my health, cheered, and the band played. They evidently had a very friendly disposition towards me. The parting with the foremen and workmen was cordial. It was very sad to see their doleful faces. They all cried before the end of their farewell speeches. I kissed all and thanked them. They blessed me with the ikon of St. Nicholas. I promised to give them my photograph as a memento. I had nothing else to repay them with. I could think of nothing better. _August 30th._--Yesterday we left Cronstadt. The Emperor overtook the fleet in the _Alexandria_, and steamed round it. All the time bands were playing, the men cheered, the fleet saluted. It was a superb sight. At times the smoke from the guns was so thick that the nearest ships were not visible. To-day we arrived at Revel at 7 a.m. It is said we are to remain here for nearly a month. To-day is the _Suvaroff's_ name-day. There was mass. No festivities. 8 p.m.--Such a worry. Nowhere can I find room for myself. When I was working on board the _Borodino_, as you may imagine, I constantly consoled myself with the thought of rest and of leave. The _Borodino_ is completed. I might now have been free, might now have been living at home with my wife. But ah! fate! It seems to me that I shall not return. My predecessor in this cabin that I occupy went mad and was retired. This may be superstition, but it is nevertheless unpleasant. It is said that to-day the captain of the _Asia_ momentarily lost his head and steered his ship to ram the _Apraxin_; the presence of mind of the officer of the watch saved the _Asia_ and _Apraxin_ from damage. _October 3rd._--At sea, on the way to the island of Bornholm. Time flies. Daily there are new impressions, worries, gossip, and work. On the eve of our departure from Libau there was prayer, with genuflexions for "Boyarin Zenovie."[1] Yesterday we had vespers, and to-day mass. Everything so triumphant and showy! The weather was glorious. At lunch the band played. Suddenly it was reported that the torpedo-boat _Buistry_ (Rapid) had rammed the _Oslyabya_--had knocked a hole in herself and damaged her torpedo-tubes. The _Buistry_ approached the _Suvaroff_. With the help of a megaphone (_i.e._ a large speaking-trumpet) the admiral conversed with her. They managed to plug the holes. It will be my work to mend them. We shall anchor off Bornholm, where I hope to repair the torpedo-boat. To-night there will be danger. We shall all sleep in our clothes and all guns will be loaded. We shall pass through a narrow strait. We are afraid of striking on Japanese mines in these waters. Perhaps there will be no mines; but considering that long ago Japanese officers went to Sweden and, it is said, swore to destroy our fleet, we must be on our guard. This strait is eminently suitable for torpedo-boat attacks or for laying down mines. When you get this letter we shall have passed the dangerous place, and it is no use your worrying yourself about it. Have things gone badly with Kuropatkin again? How serious it is! Will there ever be an end to our reverses? 4 p.m.--We have passed the island of Bornholm without stopping. The southern shores of Sweden were visible. On the way we met a good many steamers. We are steaming with the greatest precaution. The fleet is split into several divisions, steaming at a certain distance from one another. Each division is surrounded by torpedo-boats. Whenever a steamer or sailing-ship is observed on our course or coming toward us, a torpedo-boat goes ahead and clears the way--that is, drives them aside. It is a pretty sight--a torpedo-boat going full speed gliding swiftly over the sea like a snake. Being low in the water, it can scarcely be seen from afar. _October 4th._--At anchor off the coast of Denmark, opposite the island of Langeland (Longland). On board the transport _Kamchatka_. Ah me, what a day it has been! We had scarcely arrived at Langeland when I went on board the torpedo-boat _Buistry_, not having even drunk my coffee. I put on high boots and took my mackintosh. The _Buistry_ approached the _Kamchatka_ and the work began. I got as black as the devil in the bunker. I must have new overalls. I shall buy some cloth somewhere and give it to a sailor to make. High boots are invaluable, but it is a pity they do not come above the knee, as I sometimes have to crawl and spoil my trousers, just as I did to-day. The work in the _Buistry_ is tremendous. The wind freshened. The torpedo-boat rolled. We should have worked outboard, but there was too much sea on; she rolled her deck under. The artificers will work all night at the inside, and perhaps to-morrow they may be able to do outside repairs. Towards the evening it blew so hard that it was useless thinking of getting on board the _Suvaroff_. It is very cramped in the torpedo-boat, and she is still rolling very heavily. I went over to the _Kamchatka_. I do not yet know if I shall get a cabin to sleep in. I brought very few cigarettes with me. Here, off Langeland, are a Danish cruiser and a torpedo-boat guarding our anchorage from the Japanese, who might fire a torpedo at us. There are Danish pilots in each ship, as well as in the torpedo-boats. Once we are out of the Baltic, the danger from mines will be passed. I am sitting in the wardroom of the _Kamchatka_, where I have found some paper on which I am scribbling. If the weather does not abate I shall have to stay in the _Kamchatka_ until we reach the next anchorage. They have just come to report that there are no spare hammocks. I shall have to spend the night on a sofa in the wardroom, without undressing. Well, that is no hardship! I shall sleep somehow, as I am very tired. _October 15th_, 12 noon.--At 9 a.m. I went from the _Buistry_ to the _Suvaroff_. Find the consul is just leaving. I fastened my letter No. 3 somehow, unsigned, and gave it to the consul without a stamp. I think it will reach you. At eleven o'clock I went to lunch with the admiral, who conferred on me the Order of St. Anne. This came as a surprise to me. The order with the ribbon was sent to me. The admiral is promoted to vice-admiral and aide-de-camp to the Czar. 3 p.m.--I lay down hoping to rest, but it was not to be; I had to go to the _Sissoi_--her davits had broken. They could not lower a single cutter. Off I went. Here we are at our first anchorage, and already there are a heap of damages. The _Buistry_ is damaged; there are breakages in the _Sissoi_: in the _Jemchug_ the davits broke and a cutter sank. Three Danish steamers which coaled us are damaged. The owners assess the damages at 6,000 roubles (£600). I shall have to go and look at them. I do not take into account minor mishaps, such as the torpedo-boat _Prozorlivy_ (Clearsighted), which struck her bows somewhere, and of course bent them. She was, however, able to cope with the leak herself. _October 6th._--On the way to Cape Skaw. Another mishap to the _Orel_ (Eagle).[2] At a most critical moment, when we were going through a narrow strait, her rudder was injured. She anchored. The damage is not yet ascertained. There is probably some scoundrel on board who has been trying all along to injure the ship. It is supposed to be one of the crew. We got up anchor at 7 a.m. The weather is fair, but it appears to be freshening. The wind is beginning to get much stronger, although the sun is still shining, and there is not much sea. It is warm here, 12° to 13° R. The _Orel_ weighed anchor and followed the fleet. _October 7th._--We are not yet up to the Skaw. Shall be there soon. The weather is very fine again. I wonder what it will be like in the German Ocean. We have to put our watches back now. It is 8.30 on board at this moment. In Petersburg it is probably not yet 8 o'clock. I occasionally look at a book, _The English Self-teacher_, but I do not get on with it; sometimes I am lazy, and sometimes people interrupt me. At anchor off the Skaw. There is no communication with the shore except through the pilot. I gave my letter No. 4 to him to post. Sending a telegram is out of the question. At present we have stopped at sea, and are not off a port. We were anxious about the _Orel_ all night. As I have already told you, she left the fleet, no longer answered signals, and found herself in a dangerous place. Now she is anchored with the other ships. I write to you so often now, that when it will be difficult to send letters, and they will take a long time reaching you, you are bound to be anxious. In any case, I warn you of this. Of course, I shall write to you as often as possible. I must finish this letter. The post goes very soon in the _Ermak_. The next trip will be of some days' duration. We have no news of the war. It is very trying. The torpedo-boat _Prozorlivy_ has damaged her condenser, and is being sent to Libau. The _Jemchug_ lost a cutter and broke the davits. The davits were taken down to-day and sent to the _Kamchatka_, where, in hoisting them on board, they fell into the water and sank. How strict discipline is now! A signal was made to the _Ermak_. She did not answer, so they began firing projectiles under her stern. After such a reminder she quickly responded. At three o'clock a Swedish steamer approached the fleet, flying a signal that she had very important dispatches. Apparently the Russian agent reported that a very suspicious three-masted sailing ship had sailed from the fiords. An order has now been given to train all guns on every passing vessel. We met ships hitherto, but the torpedo-boats always drove them out of the way. We have already passed the most dangerous spots. Half an hour ago it was reported to the admiral that either the _Navarin_ or the _Nachimoff_ (I do not remember which) had signalled that they had seen two balloons. What can this be? Can it be the Japanese? 8 p.m.--Panic prevails on board. Every one examines the sea intently. The weather is glorious. It is warm. There is moonlight. The slightest suspicious-looking spot in the water is carefully watched. The guns are loaded. The crew are standing about on deck. One half will sleep at their guns without undressing; the other half and officers will keep watch to-night. It is curious that we are so far from the theatre of war and yet so much alarmed. The crew treat the matter seriously. By the way, I will tell you the following incident. A sailor of the Revel half "equipage" asked to be allowed to go to the war in one of the ships. His request was refused. He thereupon climbed into the hold of one of the transports and remained there until now. Imagine how many days he passed in the fetid hold of the transport! Besides that, he would be suspected of being a deserter--that is, to have committed a severely punishable offence. No doubt they will inform Revel and keep him in the fleet. A curious incident, is it not? I wish the whole thing were over. Every one's nerves are strained just now. There are some officers in the fleet who have returned from Port Arthur, and they say that people out there are not nearly as nervous as they are in Russia. The following details will show you how accustomed they have grown to the position. The crews of the ships at Port Arthur asked leave to go to the advanced positions, and returned under the influence of liquor. No one could understand how they became drunk. In the town liquors were not sold, and yet men went to the advanced positions and returned intoxicated. At last it was discovered, and how do you suppose? It appears that the sailors went to the front in order to kill one of the enemy and take away his brandy-flask. Just imagine such a thing. They risked their lives to get drunk! They did all this without thinking anything of it, and contrived to conceal it from the authorities. _October 8th._--The German Ocean (North Sea). What a night it has been--nerve-racking and restless. Early in the evening all were in a state of nervous tension and panic. News was received at midnight from the foremost ships that they had observed four suspicious torpedo-boats without lights. Vigilance was redoubled, but thank God the night passed happily. At present there is a fog. Nothing is visible all around. The sirens which you dislike so much are shrieking. I went to bed, dressed, last night, and did not cover myself with the counterpane, but just threw my overalls over me. In the night I froze, so covered my feet with a rug. The rug was very useful--many thanks to you for it. We are now in the German Ocean. They say it will be rough. At present it is calm, but foggy. We go from the Skaw to Brest, in France. There, there will be no communication with the shore, it is said. It will be strange if we arrive in the East without having once set foot on dry land--and that seems likely to happen; circumnavigating the world and not seeing a single town--how that would please you! 9 p.m.--A signal has just been received (by wireless telegraphy) that the _Kamchatka_, which had dropped far astern, was attacked by torpedo-boats. Just off to find out details. 10 p.m.--The _Kamchatka_ reports that she is attacked on all sides by eight torpedo-boats. _October 9th._--Night of October 9th. The _Kamchatka_ is asking the position of the fleet. She says she has altered course and that the torpedo-boats have gone. On board us they think that the Japanese are asking the position of the fleet. The wind has freshened. The _Suvaroff_ is rolling. If it continues to freshen, the torpedo-boats will be obliged to give up following and make for the nearest shore. My God! what will the fleet do then? About 1 a.m. they sounded off quarters, having seen ships ahead. They let the ships get nearer, and then there began.... What it was words fail to describe! All the ships of our division were ablaze. The noise of the firing was incessant. The searchlights were turned on. I was on the after bridge, and was positively blinded and deafened by the firing. I put my hands to my ears and bolted below. The rest I watched from the spar-deck, out of the accommodation-ladder port. A small steamer was rolling helplessly on the sea. One funnel, a bridge, and the red and black paint on her side were clearly visible. I saw no one on deck--they had probably hidden themselves below in terror. First one, then another projectile from our ship struck this unfortunate steamer. I saw there was an explosion. The order to cease firing was given, but the other ships continued to fire and no doubt sank the steamer. A second and third steamer not having any one on deck rolled helplessly in the same fashion. The _Suvaroff_ did not fire on them. Imagine the feelings of the people in these ships! They were, no doubt, fishermen. Now there will be a universal scandal. As a matter of fact they are to blame themselves. They must have known our fleet was coming, and they must have known the Japanese wished to destroy it. They saw the fleet. Why did they not cut adrift their nets, if they had them out, and get out of the way? The nets could be paid for afterwards. We shall find out at Brest what we have done. If it was not the _Kamchatka_, but the Japanese, who asked the position of the fleet, they will now know where we are to be found. If that is the case, we must expect to be attacked to-night. The moon is shining now, but from 4 to 6 a.m. it will be dark--the time most suitable for attack. If only we could get to the open sea! We shall be perfectly safe there from these accidents. I do not know whether to go to bed or not. You know I always like sharing even the smallest events with you and telling you of them. Take care of my letters; they are better than any diary. Perhaps some day I will read them myself and refresh my memory about our present excitements. 2.30 a.m.--What a misfortune! A signal has come from the _Aurora_, "Four underwater shot-holes, funnels torn, the chaplain severely wounded, and a captain of a gun slightly." Our division fired on the _Aurora_. She and the _Dimitry Donskoi_ were detached (we are in six divisions). At the time of the firing on the steamers the men lost their heads. Probably some one took her to be Japanese and fired on her with the six-inch guns; she was very far off. A very, very sad occurrence. The only consolation is that our shooting is so good. 3.30 p.m.--The second and third steamers about which I wrote last night suffered a little as well. The _Aurora's_ chaplain had his hand torn off. They asked permission to call at the nearest port in order to send him to hospital. The admiral refused. Six different projectiles struck the _Aurora_, whose side and funnels were pierced. Comparatively few were injured. The _Aurora_ is to blame for having shown herself on the horizon, on the side away from us. She turned her searchlight on us, and by so doing made us take her to be one of the enemy's ships. Yesterday, or more correctly this morning, I went to bed at six o'clock. Again I did not undress. I slept by snatches, on and off all day. Perhaps there will be no sleep again to-night. The barber has just cut my hair. He uses huge tailor's scissors with cloth-covered handles. "I did not succeed in buying a proper pair," he explained, when he saw me looking at his ditty box.[3] He cut it very evenly for a self-taught barber. Whom have we not among the sailors?--tailors, bootmakers, locksmiths, cooks, bakers, barbers, photographers, confectioners, cigarette makers, etc. All trades are represented, and there is work for all of them in a battleship. The captain wanted to be shaved, so he sent an orderly for a barber. The man arrived (not the one who cut my hair) and the shaving began. The barber's hand shook and the captain's face grew red with blood. He had nearly taken off half his cheek. A fearful row ensued. The captain, with soapy cheeks, smacked the heads of the orderly and barber. The latter tried to excuse himself by saying that he is still learning. A pretty picture, is it not? Now the captain shaves himself, not trusting local talent. 11 p.m.--An eventful day has gone by! At six o'clock some fishing-nets fouled the screws, but the engines are working. The fishermen in these parts tow very long nets, and you have to pass over them. We had vespers to-day. How will this night pass? The weather remains fine. It is calm. The moon will shine until four o'clock. Perhaps another fog will come on like last night. All this morning the sirens were screeching in the fog. We shall be at the entrance of the English Channel in the morning. Again they have not served out hammocks to the crew. They will sleep at their guns fully dressed. _October 10th_ (7 p.m.).--In the English Channel, between England and France. I have not written to you the whole day, and it is getting on my conscience. We had mass in the morning, and then lunch. Not having slept all night, I lay down to rest. I slept until 3.30. I worked and then dined. I am only just free. The night passed quietly. It is raining now, and the ship is gently heaving on the ocean swell. If nothing further occurs, we shall be at Brest to-morrow. Passing by England this morning I saw her southern shores, which were faintly visible in the mist. Yes, there was "Foggy Albion." Involuntarily I pondered over this clod of earth--so powerful, so rich, so proud, and so ill-disposed towards us. We are only three hours' journey from London and six by rail from Paris. Many varieties of birds settle on the ship, tired and exhausted by their long flight. The crew feed them and let them go. I am depressed--fearfully depressed. Anxiety presses on my soul! What would I not give to be with you now! Again I have not slept all night. How tiring it all is! _October 11th._--They say it is very possible we shall not call at Brest. Profiting by the fine weather, we shall steer straight across the Bay of Biscay. The bay enjoys a bad reputation. It is seldom crossed in calm weather. It blows there very heavily. So far we have had a very fair voyage. The _Korea_, which apparently called at Cherbourg, signals that she has heard nothing of the fleet having fired on steamers. The torpedo-boat _Bravy_ has broken something. Bay of Biscay. Fate herself prevented our going to Brest, and steered us straight across the Bay of Biscay to Vigo (Spain). Such a thick fog came up at 1 p.m. that the ship astern was not visible. We are steaming through milk! The sirens are shrieking in turn, one ship after another. The following ships are in our division: first the _Suvaroff_, next the _Alexander III._, then the _Borodino_, _Orel_, and the transport _Anadir_. Perhaps it is just as well we did not go to Brest. The entrance to the port is very difficult, dangerous, and impossible in a fog. If we do not go to Crete, from Vigo onwards the way before us is wide--the whole ocean! Lying on my bed last night I watched the rats making themselves at home in my cabin. I used to sleep with my feet towards the door, but have now put my pillow there, because of the rats. They can jump from the writing-table on to the settee, and could easily have jumped on my head. Since we left the port of Alexander III. at Libau, a fortnight ago, no telegrams have been sent, except those allowed by the admiral. This was done so that spies should not warn the Japanese, waiting for us in the Baltic. The Japanese evidently thought (report said there were more than a hundred of them in the Baltic) that we should wait for the _Oleg_ at Libau. The admiral, however, did not wait for the _Oleg_, and left. Their spies did not succeed in warning them. Though telegrams were received at the office, they were not sent on for two days. Perhaps this accounts for their inactivity. Evening.--The fog dispersed and our division reassembled. The crew will sleep at their guns without undressing till we reach Vigo. I sit in my cabin and try to distract my thoughts. Such gloom overwhelms me that I feel inclined to hang myself. I go into the wardroom, take a hand at dominoes, play with the dogs, or idle about, not knowing what to do with myself. There are three dogs who are always to be found in the wardroom of the _Suvaroff_. One is a dachs called "Dinky"; the second a fox-terrier puppy, "Gipsy"; and the third, "Flagmansky," is something like a dachs, but white-haired and rough. Flagmansky and Gipsy are very amusing animals. They are often played with and teased; corks and papers are tied to them with string, and they jump and romp about. Now you know all our amusements. They are not many! I go on deck and look at this much-vaunted sea. Some one has prepared Flagmansky for the tropics by cutting off all the hair on his body, leaving his head like a lion's. The chaplain is accused of doing this, but he denies it. We shall arrive at Vigo either to-night or to-morrow morning. It will be interesting to know if they will allow us to coal from our transport _Anadir_. Coal is getting scarce in the battleships. _October 12th._--We are approaching Spain. Lighthouses are already visible. We shall be at Vigo in the morning. We shall all be much relieved, as we have not called at a single port since we left Libau. We could go on to Tangier without stopping. The weather has greatly facilitated our passage. Admiral Folkersham, commanding the 2nd division of battleships (in it are the _Sissoi_, _Oslyabya_, _Navarin_, _Nachimoff_, and another), distinguished himself when passing through the English Channel. He approached the English coast and coaled his ships from the transports. We are all laughing to think of the horror of our Minister for Foreign Affairs (by the way, all the ministers were opposed to the dispatch of the fleet, but the admiral insisted on it). The Minister will be informed of the firing on the steamers. That will be the first European complication. They will then tell him about the coaling near England--a second complication. Finally he will learn that a whole division of our fleet has called at the neutral port of Vigo. _October 13th._--In Vigo Bay. No communication with the shore allowed. I gave my letter No. 6, of thirty-two pages, to be forwarded by the Consulate. Of course, there were no stamps. I wonder if you will get it! We shall not remain here more than twenty-four hours. The Spanish authorities do not allow a longer stay. This place is hot and sunny. There were 20° R. in the shade. The place is pretty. There are hills all around. The town is evidently not large. 12 o'clock.--The authorities do not allow us to stop for a moment. In order to gain time, the admiral asked the local captain of the port to telegraph to Madrid, to ask that we might stay here five days to make good defects. In spite of the prohibition we are about to take in coal, without which our fleet would be checkmated. Sentries will be posted over the hawsers (ropes which fasten the ships to the colliers), with orders to allow no one to cast them off. What will be the end of all this? A collier lies near each battleship, but they are not allowed to coal. Telegrams are sent everywhere. They are now waiting for a reply from Madrid. Will they really not allow us to coal! The admiral has received a telegram stating that England is in a ferment--not at our having fired on the steamers, but because the torpedo-boat which was left on the scene of the drama gave no help to the sufferers. None of our torpedo-boats were there. They were at Cherbourg. The admiral replied to this effect to our ambassador in London. An answer has been received from Madrid. It announces that the Government requests us to refrain from coaling, but will inform us to-morrow how much we may take. The admiral ordered a signal to be hoisted for the fleet, to be in readiness to weigh anchor at 7 a.m. When the admiral went ashore to-day, he was met in state. The crowd made an ovation, a description of which was in the local evening papers. _October 14th._--I gave my letter to a soldier or police "alguazil," as they call them on board. I gave him money--one peseta! Our battleships lie waiting. It is positively insulting! Coal, bought by Russia, is in steamers close alongside and is not allowed to be put on board. "Who prevents it?" you ask. Miserable, beggarly, broken Spain. Undoubtedly the hand of England is visible in this. The Spaniards make no secret of it. At 1 p.m. permission came for each ship to take in 400 tons. Sailors and officers, dirty and black, hasten to begin coaling. White tunics and cap-covers are nowhere to be seen. Everything is black with coal-dust. Faces are black as soot, and only teeth gleam white. _October 18th._--They say we leave for Tangier to-morrow morning. I have been busy all day, and not able to write. FOOTNOTES: [1] Admiral Rojdestvensky's Christian name. "Boyarin" means "the lord." [2] On September 17th, 1904, the battleship _Orel_ went aground when being towed to sea. [3] A small wooden box in which sailors keep small articles of private property, such as watches, letters, photographs, etc. CHAPTER II OFF NORTH-WEST AFRICA _October 19th._--On the way from Vigo to Tangier. Permission came last evening for us to proceed. At 7 a.m. to-day the fleet weighed anchor and left Vigo Bay. I did not succeed in getting ashore. Yesterday an engineer of the _Anadir_ fell from the upper deck into the hold, but escaped uninjured. There is a report in the newspapers that, during the firing on the steamers in the German Ocean, the chaplain of the _Aurora_ was wounded, and now they have sent him into hospital at Tangier, where the remainder of the fleet are lying. There is no proper harbour at Tangier--merely the open sea. It is unlike Vigo. The latter is one of the best harbours in the world. It is deep and long and broad. The Spaniards do not know how to profit by such natural wealth. Vigo might carry on a universal trade. At present it is a small provincial town on the sea. The Spaniards are very poor, because they are uncommonly lazy. Vigo trades mostly in sardines. They have a sardine factory. The sardines are caught in the bay, which is divided into squares for each party of fishermen. Heaven help the fishermen who trespass in the square of the others. There is a fight at once. This occurs so often, that there are special ships who part the fighters and tow the guilty fishermen in their boats to the shore, for punishment. The weather is fine at present; but what darkness! Literally nothing can be seen, and there are no stars. Only lights that are absolutely necessary are left on deck. It is dark everywhere. One has to look out and not bump one's head or fall. Something has gone wrong again with the _Orel's_ steering engine. She continues to keep up with the others. About 10 p.m. some ships chased us. They are now around us, and on the same course as ourselves. There are five or six of them. At one time it was completely dark, and then the ships behaved very defiantly--now extinguishing all their lights, now passing us, now chasing us, and now coming close up to us. Our division is steaming surrounded by them. They appear to be warships, judging by their shape, which we saw when one of them lighted up another with her searchlight. We are ordered to log all their manoeuvres, lamp signals, place of meeting with them, etc. Hammocks are not served out to the crew, and they sleep at the guns. The night has just become a little lighter. Stars have appeared, though sometimes clouded over. The stars and the Milky Way recall Tashkend to me. There, there are the same dark nights and bright stars. It is supposed that the ships now surrounding us are English, and that at dawn they will disperse. Hope we shall soon get to the ocean. There you can shape a course one hundred miles off, and no one will find you. _October 20th._--The English ships escorted us all night. They are now steaming on each side of us. At eight o'clock the _Orel_ hoisted a signal that her steering engine was damaged. All the ships stopped. The _Alexander_ lowered a boat and sent the flag engineer to her. At nine o'clock our battleships and the _Anadir_ proceeded to Tangier. Sometimes the coasts of Portugal are visible. When our ships stopped the English probably took it for a hostile demonstration. They quickly assembled astern of our division and formed in battle order. Horrid folk! They are Russia's eternal enemy. They are cunning, powerful at sea, and insolent everywhere. All nations hate England, but it suits them to tolerate her. If you could only hear how furiously Spaniards abuse the English! They shake their fists and nearly foam at the mouth. If they only could, they would gladly play some low trick on them. How many impediments has this "Ruler of the Seas" put on our voyage? Every impediment has come from Britannia. Do you know, we have passed by the shores of nine countries--Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Belgium, Holland, England, France, Germany, Spain. We are now passing by the tenth--Portugal. Portugal is considered the ally of England, and upholds her everywhere. Evening.--To-day there was a memorial service for the Emperor Alexander III. The English cruisers accompanied us all day, and at dusk again surrounded us in a semicircle. They are, however, steaming with lights, and are not playing any of the tricks they played last night. If nothing happens we shall be at Tangier at 3 p.m. to-morrow. An hour ago we passed Cape St. Vincent (Portuguese), off which a great naval battle once took place. It is beginning to be hot and stuffy in the cabins, although it is pouring with rain. The number of English cruisers accompanying us has increased to ten. We are steaming completely surrounded by them. The ships are in this order: BORODINO SUVAROFF OREL ALEXANDER III. ANADIR All this respectable company are going in the direction of the arrow. How small our division appears compared with the English! Will they escort us for long in this manner? Perhaps to Gibraltar, or perhaps even further! The crews again do not undress, and sleep at the guns. It is very trying for them. There has just been a short mass and prayer. Three engineers, not yet having taken the oath, were sworn. The officers and men were fallen in on deck as on Sundays. The admiral made a short speech on the subject of the ten years' reign of the Czar, drank a toast, the crew cheered, and the band played. After that there was a grand lunch in the wardroom. Morocco, in Tangier harbour. The town of Tangier is unlike any we see in Europe. It is inhabited by Moors and Arabs. There are Europeans, but they live principally outside the town, which, with its white houses, is widely scattered over the hilly coast. From afar the town is beautiful. No one is allowed on shore. You may remember once all the papers wrote that a Moorish robber had captured an American and demanded a ransom. This much-respected person lives twenty-five versts (nearly seventeen miles) from Tangier, and has built himself a costly villa with the money. It appears that he still occupies himself in robbery, and has a tribe of eight hundred men. No one is allowed to go far from the town. We arrived here at three o'clock, and found all our fleet except the torpedo-boats at anchor. There are two French ships and an English one lying here as well. At five o'clock the hospital-ship _Orel_ arrived. She is painted white with red crosses on her funnels. The Red Cross flag is flying at her masthead. The chaplain of the _Aurora_ who was wounded on the 8th died from blood-poisoning. There is a report that there are two Japanese torpedo-boats at Hull, in England. They are probably some of those who tried to attack our division. It is rumoured that Russia has bought seven more cruisers, and that they will join us soon. This would be excellent. The battleships of our division are now coaling. There is frightful confusion on board. The sailors of the ship which coals quickest get a prize. The crew of the _Alexander III._ won 1,200 roubles (£120) at the last coaling. As usual, we have no news about the war! Yesterday was an anxious day for Port Arthur. The Japanese wished to hoist their flag there on the Mikado's birthday. Scarcely had the _Suvaroff_ anchored, when from all sides came steam cutters and boats with captains of ships, paymasters, and other officers. From the shore came the local authorities, our consul, contractors, captains of foreign ships--in a word, every one is hastening to the _Suvaroff_ like the public to the play at the theatre! Truly it is like it! From our ship salutes constantly thunder, various flags are hoisted, and the band plays. From the other ships and from the shore they salute the _Suvaroff_. The scene is full of animation. The native inhabitants dress very picturesquely, as though they were masquerading. Some are in jackets with wide breeches and a fez, and others in turbans and hooded tunics, all of various colours. The faces of all are very dark. They consider themselves of importance. It would be interesting to see them in the town. Our torpedo-boats have already left for the Mediterranean. They have done this enormous journey in nineteen days. 10 p.m.--In the _Gibraltar Chronicle_ they announce that Alexieff is leaving, and that Stössel has telegraphed that Port Arthur will be his grave. _October 22nd_ (night).--If you could only see what an inferno this coaling is! The steamers and battleships are lighted by electricity. The holds below and the decks are swarming with people. Words of command are abruptly given, and the band plays the gayest tunes. The work goes better to music. Though Morocco is considered under the protection of France, there is an English post-office, a German one, and I believe a Spanish one as well. I have just returned from the steamer _Pallas_, which brought coal for us and damaged her side while coaling. A pedlar has just come on board, bringing picture postcards, mats, nets, white shoes and helmets (you know the kind the English wear in the tropics). I have already bought myself a helmet, and the postcards that are left are not much good, though I bought six of them and gave one to my servant. He is delighted. The boots do not fit, and white boots are an absolute necessity in the tropics. Our consul's "cavass" has just come on board. He has a black face; wears a red fez, and a blue tunic with a hood; has bare legs and yellow heelless slippers. He is a curious object. He will stay with us till we leave, and will collect the mails. We shall have to pay a hundred francs for his boat. A modest sum! Am just going on board the _Orel_. Something is damaged.... How wet I got! My legs were wet up to the knees. I went in the cutter to all the private coal-merchants, looking for the director of the company, and then on to the _Orel_. The rain is falling in bucketfuls, with such heaviness that it hides the other ships from view like a dense curtain. It is perfectly beastly. Luckily I have a mackintosh. I have a trip to the steamer _Esperanza_ before me. Hope I shall escape it. 7 p.m.--Went on board the _Esperanza_. Wore high boots, but there was no rain. The local papers say that another of our ships has perished off Port Arthur. What is one to believe? For instance, there is a story in the papers that our admiral insulted the English admiral after the latter had tried to prevent our leaving Vigo. A quarrel ensued, guns were fired, and the English were beaten by us. They write so many lies in the local papers. _October 25th._--From Tangier to Dakar. We left Tangier on the morning of the 23rd, and are now on our way to Dakar, which lies on the western shores of Africa, not far from St. Louis and Cape Verde, and belongs to France. Have not written to you for a couple of days, for two reasons. I am very angry and very busy. I am angry because at Tangier I never received a wire from you in answer to mine. All day long yesterday, till the depths of the night, I was busy with sketches and calculations. I had not a spare moment. When weighing anchor at Tangier the _Anadir's_ anchor caught in the telegraph cable. By order of the admiral the cable was cut. I suppose there will again be diplomatic representations over this affair. No doubt the English will say that it was done purposely, so that no telegrams should be sent announcing our departure. It is lucky that the cable belongs to France. Had it been English the scandal would have been terrific. At Tangier I saw a peculiar rainbow. It stretched from the foot to the summit of a hill. 7 p.m.--My work is accumulating tremendously. I began early in the morning, and probably will be busy again to-night with sketches and calculations. It will be a long time before you get this letter. As time goes on, letters will be less frequent. We have a tremendous journey before us--seventeen or eighteen days from port to port--so do not be anxious at not receiving news for a very long time. During our present cruise this is quite a normal state of affairs. It is twenty-three days now since I set foot on shore. The shore is not attractive as a rule. I long to get quickly to Vladivostok. I am sick to death of it all. They say the sea is beautiful! I do not agree with that entirely. It is true the water is blue, but that is all you can say for it; it is only blue in calm weather, but in stormy weather it appears to me to be a stupid, insane, infuriated element. Perhaps the sea is beautiful, but only to those on dry land. I could never be fascinated by the sea. _October 26th._--The transport _Malay_ broke some of her machinery at one o'clock last night. The whole fleet stopped and waited until she had made the defect good. We remained on the spot till 7 a.m. The _Malay_ repaired engines and the fleet proceeded. We wasted six hours over it. I count every hour. The less time we spend in harbour and the quicker we go, the sooner we shall arrive at Vladivostok. In a word, Vladivostok is the goal of our desires. _October 27th._--We passed the Tropic of Cancer at 4 p.m., and are going towards the Equator. We are in the tropics, and yet I cannot say that it is specially hot and airless. Our squadron going round Africa consists of the following ships: the battleships _Suvaroff_, _Alexander_, _Borodino_, _Orel_, _Oslyabya_; cruisers, _Dimitry Donskoi_, _Aurora_, _Nachimoff_; transports, _Kamchatka_, _Anadir_, _Meteor_, _Korea_, _Malay_, and the hospital-ship _Orel_. The _Meteor_, _Korea_, and _Malay_ are under the merchant flag; and so is the _Orel_, but she is also flying the Red Cross. We heard an unpleasant rumour to-day. It is said the squadron will make a long stay at Madagascar and carry out various exercises. Can it be so? This news annoys me. If we are there so long, when shall we get to Vladivostok? I console myself with the thought that this is a clever fiction. The captain laid in a reserve of white soap, which dissolves in salt water (generally soap does not). The fresh water is preserved for steaming, so you can only have a salt-water bath on board. My servant brought me a piece of this soap yesterday. I do not know how he obtained it. There is nearly 100 roubles' worth of it on board the _Suvaroff_. I have very few cigarettes left--only six boxes. It is a good thing you bought me 1,000 at Revel, and that I bought some at Libau, or I should be without them. _October 28th._--My servant is evidently attached to me. He is industrious and inquisitive. Just after we left Libau he saw a box of pastilles and said, "Did our barina [lady] really come to Libau, sir?" He came into my cabin to-day with a bucket and mop, and said, "Shall I interfere with your worship if I wash the deck?" It is very probable that from Dakar we shall go to Gaboon. We shall call at ports which I have never heard of before, or if I have it was a very long time ago--perhaps at school. I told the ship's photographer to prepare me a series of photographs which I will send you. They are not very characteristic, but better ones are not to be had. _October 29th._--It is very stuffy to-day. One perspires a good deal. Last night I slept with only a sheet over me, and had nothing on but a cross. Notwithstanding the stuffiness, one is obliged to sleep with closed ports and deadlights. In time of war all superfluous lights in a ship are either extinguished or covered over. If it is so hot here, it will positively be hell at the Equator. The air is offensive, being impregnated with steam. It is damp. The drawers of the tables are beginning to shut badly. They are sodden. Soon all metallic objects will begin to rust. I am sitting in my cabin with my shirt unbuttoned. Experienced people say that every one will get prickly heat. This eruption appears in the tropics because the pores of the skin are constantly irritated. The heat and stuffiness are unbearable. There is no wind--we are in a calm belt. The fans are kept going incessantly on board. Every one goes about sunburnt and sleepy. Speed has purposely been lessened in order to get into Dakar to-morrow morning, and not this evening. I think we shall stay in Dakar some days. Heavy coaling awaits us there--2,000 tons. All the decks will be loaded with coal. _Dakar, Senegambia._ _October 30th._--Just arrived at Dakar. The fleet is anchoring. The town is situated partly on shore and partly on a small island. To-day is the admiral's names-day. They say there will be an official dinner. The heat and stuffiness are fearful. Perspiration pours off one. The air is damp--towels will not dry. 2 p.m.--I have been on duty on board the cruiser _Admiral Nachimoff_. There I met an engineer whom I knew at school. I lunched in the _Nachimoff_, though there was an official lunch in the _Suvaroff_. I was not present. A sister of mercy from the _Orel_ was there. She is a relation of the admiral's. The admiral has permitted communication with the shore after the coal has been taken on board. We remain here until the evening of November 3rd. All the ships except ours have begun to coal. Negroes in small boats are rowing round the fleet. You throw money into the water for them and they dive for it. The whole of their costume consists of a loin-cloth and not a stitch more. They are repulsive--black with long, thin legs and arms. They gave me the impression of being sick, incapable people. Apparently, when the _Oslyabya_ was at Tangier, she asked for a barge and baskets for coaling from Gibraltar. The English purposely employed all the barges themselves, and bought up all the baskets. The _Oslyabya_ received nothing. 5 p.m.--The French Governor has just arrived in great state, and explained that he cannot permit us to coal. The admiral told him that he should, nevertheless, continue to coal until he had a telegram from Europe. They have long ago begun coaling in the other ships, and will soon begin in us. Perhaps the Governor will announce that we are not to remain here. That would be a great surprise to every one. Probably things are going badly in Manchuria--the French are evidently also sailing with the wind. From there (Manchuria) we have no decisive news. Evening.--I hurried off my twenty-second letter to you as the post was going. It appears that telegraphing is very expensive from here. The cable between Dakar and Europe is damaged somewhere, so telegrams have to be sent round by America. There is a report that Stössel is wounded in the leg. At first the French allowed us to coal, and then came an order from Paris not allowing us in harbour. Nevertheless, our fleet remains, and we are coaling. All the doors and scuttles are tightly closed to keep out the coal-dust. The stuffiness is dreadful inside the ship. We are tormented by thirst. Drinks are hot and unpleasant. All the same, one drinks incessantly. I alone drank six bottles of lemonade to-day. Can you guess what our one topic of conversation in the fleet is about? Coal! It is our weak spot. Our comings, our goings, our voyage, and even our success depend on coal. In order to stimulate the men, they have established prizes, which are given to the crew of the ship that coals quickest. The everlasting conversation about coaling drives one frantic, still one talks of it and quarrels about it. _October 31st._--Since early this morning I have been round the harbour. Coal-dust has penetrated everywhere--into the cabins, the cupboards, and on to the tables. The decks are clouded with dust. Every one is so black that you do not recognise people at once. There is a report that we shall not call at Gaboon. Perhaps it is for the best, as we shall proceed sooner; besides, Gaboon lies almost on the Equator. That means it would be somewhat warm. 3 p.m.--They gave us ices for lunch to-day; they were steaming though cold. The heat is awful. Precautions are being taken against sunstrokes. There are some indications that we shall stay here till Wednesday--_i.e._ November 3rd. If we do not go to Gaboon, but steer for the next port on the list, we shall have a tremendous trip. Our admiral called on the local commandant and invited him to lunch. Just been urgently summoned on board the _Donskoi_. _November 1st._--Just returned from the transport _Malay_. She is damaged below the water-line. Evening.--At 3 p.m. Lieutenant Nelidoff (son of our ambassador at Paris) died from sunstroke. The deceased was a wonderful linguist, knowing seven or eight languages. He will be buried to-morrow. Our officers have just returned from the shore. According to them there is nothing interesting to be seen. If I can manage it, I shall go ashore to-morrow. I am too tired to-day. _November 2nd_ (5 p.m.)--I am sitting in a restaurant, drinking lemonade. How you would have laughed just now! I asked the negro waiter for the menu, and he brought me cards, dice, and a board covered with cloth. There is nothing to do on shore. I shall go on board by the first boat. They are burying Nelidoff. I hear the volleys. I returned from the shore by the seven o'clock boat. Our doctor distinguished himself. He tore some fruit from a tree and ate it. Scarcely had he returned on board when he was seized with colic and vomiting. There are some Japanese here. Our officers saw two of them. Evidently they are spies. We leave to-morrow, and I go on board the _Donskoi_ in the morning. I shall scarcely have time when I return to add two or three words to this letter before the post goes. Our trip will be a long one--about ten days. I wandered about Dakar and thought of you all the time--with what curiosity you would regard all these unfamiliar pictures, the niggers, negresses, children, and lastly even the Europeans! Everything here is so original. Little children run about the streets without any signs of clothing. All the natives are bedecked with amulets. They are very lazy and obtrusive. One of them came to the captain and begged for money. The latter said to him, "Look here, you do nothing, so you have no money." The nigger fired back, "You have lots of money--do you do anything?" There are few Europeans here, and very few elderly ones among them. After they have passed their youth here they leave the colony. The climate is said to be bad. An epidemic of yellow fever is raging. You may imagine that it is impossible to buy fruit. The niggers to whom we threw coins into the water are already selling them, offering them back to the officers, as Russian money is not accepted here. Many of the natives are rather picturesquely dressed in white and coloured tunics. The niggers go about with sunshades, but all are barelegged. The negresses sometimes wear European hats and garments something like dressing gowns. They carry their babies on their backs. Arabs are also to be met with here. The religions are Catholic, Mohammedan, and idolatrous. What a trade the town is doing since the fleet anchored! Many articles are doubled in value, and others cannot be obtained. The post-office is original. The clerks (niggers) sit in the building, and the public stand in the street and transact business with them through the windows. _November 3rd._--I have been all over the fleet this morning. I went on board the _Donskoi_, _Oslyabya_, _Alexander_, and _Borodino_. About 3 p.m. we weighed anchor. I do not know if we are going to Gaboon. There is news here that the storming of Port Arthur on October 20th was repulsed with heavy losses to the Japanese. _November 4th._--I went to bed early last night, leaving my port open. Early this morning, when they were scrubbing decks, water came in on to the table and sprinkled me a little. I jumped up and closed the port. Last night they changed from one means of steering to another, for practice, in the _Suvaroff_. Something in her was not adjusted, and she very nearly rammed the _Orel_. Thank God all passed off successfully. 9 p.m.--The wardroom officers bought some birds at Dakar, but did not buy food for them. They fed them with anything they could find, and now they are beginning to die. Usually the band plays at lunch on holidays. To-day they suddenly began playing at dinner. At meals we drink more than we eat. We suffer from dreadful thirst and drink pure water, mineral waters, red and white wine, beer, and different kinds of lemon juices. The admiral suffers most of all from the heat. During the coaling, when all doors and ports were closed, the temperature in his cabin reached 45° R. There are now 27° in my cabin, with the port open and the fans going which drive in the fresh air. Some of the officers have bought themselves mats and sleep on them in the wardroom. The crew sleep on the upper deck. Last night something happened to the engines of the transport _Malay_. All the fleet stopped and waited for her. About 4 a.m. the _Donskoi_ signalled that sand had got into her Kingston valves. That means the ship had passed a shallow spot, although the fleet was steaming 90 versts (sixty miles) from land. After the mishap to the _Donskoi_ they went further out to sea. It will doubtless be very hot to-day. Do you know, the floor of my cabin is so hot that I can feel it through the soles of my boots. 7 p.m.--What awful heat! Again I have to keep the port closed, as the sea is splashing in. One of the _Borodino's_ engines is damaged. We stopped and waited for her. She is now steaming with one engine. Storms are visible passing away from us in three places. The clouds are black and lightning flashes. It is close. _November 7th._--Something is wrong with the _Borodino_. The other engine does not work now. She gets hot bearings from time to time. We all stopped and waited for her. We are losing time over all these mishaps, and are losing it needlessly. The cruise of our fleet round Africa has no precedent in history. Only by 8 a.m. did the _Borodino_ put right her engines. The fleet is now pursuing its customary way. 7 p.m.--I saw two whales for the first time yesterday. There is nothing to look at except sea and sky. Sometimes the men on watch collapse from the heat and have to be carried below. There are 61° R. at the top of the engine-room compartment, and we have not yet passed the hottest place. They are preparing to celebrate the crossing of the line. The ceremony usually takes the form of a play given by the crew, and the immersion of all those who are crossing the line for the first time. Twenty minutes ago something happened to our dynamo engine, and all the electric lights went out. The ship was steeped in absolute darkness. Now all is repaired. My servant has just brought a white tunic and trousers, which he washed himself. They have turned out very well. "I don't think a washerwoman could have done it better," he said. "There is one drawback--they are not starched. But no matter; that's a trifle." _November 8th_ (11 p.m.).--As soon as ever night falls the same old story begins. From 8 p.m. until now the fleet stopped. We are only going at five knots. The unfortunate _Malay_ has again delayed us. Something broke in her engine and the pump refused to work. I am very anxious about her. At Dakar she sprang a leak. I saw it, and reported that she could proceed without danger, working her pump. Just imagine it! The only pump she has is broken. She has nothing with which she can get rid of the water, and there are no docks near. At the present moment the _Roland_ is towing the _Malay_, as one of her engines is broken and a blade of the screw of the other engine is broken off. Briefly, the _Malay_ is unable to steam by herself. We are still far from Gaboon. Again there is a great delay. Thank God the sea is calm! If it were rough, the _Malay's_ situation would be very dangerous. As it was, the _Roland_ took a long time passing the tow-rope to her. _November 9th_.--The _Roland_ is still towing the _Malay_. As soon as they are able to coal her, she will be sent back. She will not then hinder and delay us. When we were at lunch to-day they signalled to the admiral, saying that the _Kamchatka_ had gone out of her course and signalled, "Dangerously damaged. Cannot proceed." Luckily, it turned out that the damage was trifling, and she was able to continue. What a number of changes in climate we shall have had if we reach Vladivostok! We left Russia in very cold weather. Gradually it became hotter and hotter, till the heat was intense; then it will become cold again; then hot; and finally it will be very cold, as we shall reach Vladivostok in winter. _November 10th_ (night).--Again a bother with the _Borodino_. Something went wrong with her machinery. It was soon put right, but, nevertheless, time was lost over it. The _Malay_ is still being towed. Have found out about Gaboon. The fleet will not go within thirty versts of it. All communications with Gaboon will be _viâ_ the _Roland_. Of course, no one will be allowed to land, and we shall all kick our heels on board. Our ships cannot go nearer, owing to shallows and banks. The _Meteor_ signalled to-day that one of her stokers has struck work and refuses to keep up the necessary amount of steam. The captain asked to be allowed to deal with him himself. The crew of the _Meteor_ are volunteers. I have been sitting all day long over plans and calculations. The scuttles were open, and now and then waves came splashing over my table. I went to the ship's ice-chamber, and it seemed cold to me after the heat which reigns everywhere. The day passed strangely. I hardly went out of my cabin, and got through a lot of work. I must go and air myself, as my head has grown heavy. CHAPTER III CROSSING THE LINE _November 13th_ (10 p.m.).--_Off Gaboon._ This is how it has all turned out! We stopped this morning and anchored. No one knows where we are or where Gaboon lies. We have sent the _Roland_ north to the coast to find a lighthouse and Gaboon. We see land, but the place is unknown. I caught a glimpse of a shark. When we were weighing anchor at Dakar, a cutter approached with some important documents (perhaps it was the post). In the hurry of departure the papers were not taken on board. The navigators, including the flagship's navigator, were confused. It proved that we were thirty miles (fifty versts) below Gaboon. We are now going back to Gaboon, and we shall have already twice crossed the Equator. The celebrations only take place at the first crossing. When we strike the Cape of Good Hope we shall have crossed it a third time. 6 p.m.--We are anchored. A French boat has just arrived bringing some dispatches. In coming the boat was nearly stove in, as it caught in our wake. Luckily it escaped, and only the rudder was broken. The rats are making themselves felt. Three nights ago a rat bit the first lieutenant in the foot, and last night gnawed off one of his corns. What do you think of that? The French officer dined with the admiral. He does not know what is going on at the war. Even the telegraphic agencies' telegrams are not received at Gaboon. A fine town this! And there are many like it in the colony. I don't think we should find a town like it in Russia. Not even the governor of this place gets telegrams. There are only about seven hundred Europeans here; the rest are negroes, amongst whom are cannibals. During the last two months the cannibals have eaten two Europeans. They say that an English steamer will arrive to-morrow, bringing us newspapers of October 27th (Old Style). On the 16th or 17th the steamer will go back to Europe, taking our mails. As we have no news from the war, the wardroom officers of the _Suvaroff_ have asked the admiral permission to send a prepaid telegram to the _Novoe Vremya_, asking for news. The admiral refused the request, but will wire to Admiral Wirenius, who will send us the latest intelligence from the Far East. The admiral has received a telegram from Petersburg advising him not to stop at Gaboon, but go to some other place, as the French wish our fleet to leave this port. They point out a more convenient bay, and promise to give us pilots. Nevertheless, our fleet will stay here as long as necessary. What was the end of the shooting affair in the German Ocean, near Hull? They say the astonishment of the local Europeans is very great. First one steamer arrived "for provisions," then a second, then a third, and finally our fleet. No one ever expected that we should call at Gaboon. It is just as well, perhaps. The more our movements are known, the more unfavourable orders we might have from the French Government. _November 14th_ (11 a.m.).--Have already been on board the _Orel_ and _Alexander_. At two o'clock shall go on board the _Nachimoff_, _Borodino_, and _Meteor_, which are badly damaged and leak. The Governor has sent us a present of fruit and vegetables. At lunch we had pineapples, bananas, mangoes, and something else. Pineapples are the nicest. On board the _Alexander_ they accidentally carried off a negro from Dakar, whom they have landed. He says the negroes here eat their dead, as cattle are scarce and meat is dear. Before they eat them they cut off the hands and feet and put them in a bog to swell. The flesh is then more tender and tasty. They do not risk sending divers down here, as there are too many sharks. The Governor sent some other fruits besides. No one knows what they are--either grass or vegetables. They have received a telegram in the private transports saying that Kuropatkin has driven the Japanese back to the coast. That would be good news, but it is difficult to believe. 11 p.m.--The vegetation here is very rich, judging by the reports of those who have been ashore. A "regular botanical garden." A moth flew on board--such a size, I am afraid you will not believe me, but it was nearly a foot! We saw a turtle in the sea, 2½ feet long. The Frenchmen on shore showed us a dead boa-constrictor 18 feet long. The officers who went ashore called on the king of the place. He was asleep. They woke him without ceremony, looked at him and his wife, and went away. He is just a wild nigger, like his subjects. I told you about the vegetables the Governor sent us. We tipped the man who brought them a pound sterling. He seemed much confused, accepted the money, and then did not know what to do with it. I think he will spend it on our wounded. _November 15th._--They say there was a very violent storm last night. I heard nothing, and slept through it all. The officers have returned from Libreville, where they went at nine this morning. They relate many interesting things, and are in rapture over the vegetation. They have brought some fruit and a couple of parrots. They bought one of the parrots for ten francs, and the other was sent to the admiral by a Jesuit father with the fruit, as a gift. The same man who was given the pound, out of kindness acted as guide to the officers. When taking leave he feared a repetition of the tip, and kept on repeating that "he wanted nothing." The officers paid another visit to the king. He received them in an English naval uniform and cocked hat. They were photographed with him and his wives. One of them was taken arm-in-arm with the queen-dowager, who begged for money. Some of the court ladies were drunk. It is two days since the king, who is seventy-two, succeeded his brother on the throne. Margarita, the eldest lady-in-waiting and a most energetic old negress, runs about naked. For that matter, the inhabitants in general do not trouble about completeness of costume. The natives respectfully greet all Europeans. It is a curious monarchy, under the protection of France; more truly it is her colony. To-morrow there will be something in the nature of a coronation on shore. The dead king is at present lying in a box under lock and key. One of the officers sat on this box, to the consternation of the present king and his court minister. The latter was dressed in a cocked hat, a necktie round his bare neck, cuffs, sword, and frock-coat, but without linen or trousers--a beautiful figure, thus attired, at the reception of the guests. _November 15th._--You can imagine what sort of a town is Libreville. The Governor sent the admiral the latest news from the papers. They are dated October 2nd--the day of our departure from Libau. _November 16th._--I did not succeed in finishing my last letter, as the boat left for the shore. In it went the last post which can go by the steamer leaving for Europe to-morrow morning. From sunset to dawn the admiral has forbidden communication between the ships and the shore. Yesterday at 10 p.m. a cutter from the _Donskoi_, in the harbour without special leave from the admiral, was detained. The officer of the watch was put under arrest for this for three days. This evening a boat from the same ship with three officers, also in the harbour without special leave from the admiral, was likewise detained. In to-day's orders the captain of the _Donskoi_ is reprimanded, and the three officers who were in the boat are to be tried. They are to be dismissed to the steamer leaving here for Europe to-morrow and will go to Russia. As you see, disobedience is severely punished on board. 9 p.m.--To-day a sub-lieutenant of the _Alexander_ told me about the negro whom they took from Dakar. When his boat shoved off from the _Alexander_ he began to storm, shout threats and curses at the boatmen, stamp on the deck with his bare feet, etc. When he saw that he could not get away from the _Alexander_ he sat on the turret and wept burning tears. The crew surrounded him and looked on, laughing at this healthy, bellowing lad. Seeing that there was nothing to be done, he grew resigned. It appeared he was very jealous and uneasy about his wife. Very soon the crew made friends with him, and taught him several Russian words. His memory was phenomenal; in a few days he learnt the names of nearly half the crew. The soles of his feet seemed very funny to the sailors. They are half white, as they are in all negroes. On the trip the officers collected 60 roubles for him. He left exceedingly satisfied. He serves in a shop, and, being rather civilised, speaks French fluently. _November 17th_ (7 p.m.).--Half an hour ago I returned from the shore, where I had gone in the _Roland_. We reached Libreville at 8 a.m. About ten we reached the town, if this settlement can be so called. We could not approach close to it in the _Roland_, so got into boats. I went with the officers of the _Borodino_, and was with them all the time. First we went to a restaurant for refreshment. There were six of us. They gave us three bottles of lemonade, a little bread, fish, meat, peas, cheese, and fruit, and charged fifty-five francs. We left the restaurant and went along an avenue of palm-trees. We went to a German factory, to the Catholic Church, to two or three little villages, and to the plantations. There was not much time, and we turned back. We called on the king, then went to a shop, then to the quay and back to the _Roland_. Although I was only five hours ashore, I was fairly tired, probably from not being accustomed to exercise. Several photographs of our party were taken. We were taken with the negroes serving in the French army, with negresses in the villages, in the plantation, and in the King's ground under a tree with a small negress who ran after us. The king came out and placed a chair for each of us, and sat down in an armchair on the terrace. He and all his courtiers were dressed. A nigger all covered with grass and with a semblance of a mask over his face (not the slightest bit of his body could be seen) danced a Tam-tam, accompanied by savage music. Our time was short. We rose, and the king shook hands with us all. By this time many officers had gathered at his palace. They wandered into all the corners of his house. The dowager-queen sat in a hammock drunk, and tearfully begged for money. While rambling through the plantations I bought a lot of pineapples, bananas, and cocoa-nuts. The plantation where we sat eating fruit belongs to a Frenchwoman, a native of this place. We thought her house was a restaurant, and unceremoniously demanded lemonade, water, etc. It then appeared that it was a private dwelling. The Frenchwoman was very friendly--told us about herself and her children, who were being educated in France. She sent two negroes to carry our purchases to the pier. How rich the vegetation is in this place! You seem to be walking in a botanical garden. All around are palms, bananas, lemons, mimosa, lianas, mangoes, baobabs, and wonderful flowers. The trees are immense and lofty. On our return we called at a shop for drink. They gave us cider. If you had been here, what would you not have bought! We purchased all sorts of rubbish--negro instruments, teeth of wild animals, poisoned spears, weapons, etc. In the town we met the negro who was brought by the _Alexander_. He now answers to the name of "Andrew Andrewitch," which was given him by the crew. _November 18th._--I woke early this morning. I had a trip to make to the private transports. 5 p.m.--Leaving Gaboon. About an hour ago we weighed anchor. Our destination is unknown. To-day on board the _Alexander_, which is astern of the _Suvaroff_, they celebrated the crossing of the line. We could see how they capered and splashed water about. In the _Orel_ something has happened to the electrical steering gear, but she is steaming and does not detain the fleet. _November 19th._--At 9 a.m. we began to celebrate crossing the line on board. Neptune, Venus, a navigator, sub-lieutenants, Russian peasant-women, devils, barbers, and tritons arrived on field gun-carriages drawn by black naked people. All this fine company came from the stern of the ship, accompanied by buglers and to the sound of a march, played by the band, which was stationed forward. They approached the fore-turret and climbed on to it. The audience took up their places in the bows, on the bridges, turrets, masts, yards, and crosstrees. The admiral, captain, and officers stood on the bridge. The actors were all half naked, and were painted in the most varied colours--black, green, red, yellow, blue, etc. Neptune had his trident and a great beard of tow. The navigator had a chronometer, binoculars, and a sextant. The peasant-woman had a baby, which was represented by the fox-terrier. When the baby was supposed to cry, they twisted the dog's tail to make him howl. The actors played well. Near the turret was a huge bath, made of canvas and filled with water. When the play was over, they turned the hose on to every one, from the admiral down to the sailors. The actors were first thrown into the bath, and then the rest of the ship's company. After being ducked, their faces were lathered with a huge brush dipped in whiting, and they were shaved with a very large razor (two and a half feet long), made very cleverly from a piece of wood. The water in the bath was clean at the beginning, but after the actors who were painted had been ducked, it turned into God knows what colour. Nearly all the officers, the captain, and the flag-captain were ducked and shaved. I and several others escaped the bath; nevertheless, I had not a dry spot on me. Any one who hid was hunted out and ducked. The messman shut himself up in his cabin. They could not get at him, so they removed the deck-plate above it and poured water in. The messman at last, to save his things, came out and was thrown into the bath. Even the chaplain did not escape the same fate. It was a good thing for those who fell in feet foremost. When it happened the other way, their heads were pushed under and their legs held up. One of the dogs who was thrown into the water climbed out on to the nearest bitts, and looking at the people struggling near him, raised a deafening howl. The crew evidently enjoyed their holiday. It was a great diversion for them, as they had not been ashore since we left Revel. About four o'clock something went wrong in the _Malay_. An officer was sent to replace the captain. All the fleet stopped for the transfer of the officer from the _Suvaroff_ to the _Malay_. The fleet is now going to Great Fish Bay, which belongs to Portugal. If for any reason we cannot call there, we shall steer for Angra Pequena (under the protection of Germany). _November 20th_ (7 p.m.).--We had vespers on board. The service pleases me, especially in the ship. Though around one are only the faces of officers and men all dressed in white, and though the acolytes and choir are barefooted, the chants and intoning remind me of dear, far-distant Russia. _November 21st._--It is beginning to be less hot. The greatest heat, or more correctly closeness, was at Dakar. Now it is fairly tolerable. When we reach the Cape of Good Hope we shall have to put on ordinary uniform, and perhaps greatcoats. They say it will be very hot and damp in the Indian Ocean. All the crews in the fleet have begun to fast, by order of the admiral. Do you know how they fast? They eat their food as usual, only they go to church. If the reckonings are correct, and all goes smoothly, then by the end of January or the beginning of February our fleet will be near the shores of Japan. This will mean that there will be only about two months more of the wearisome, monotonous life which we are all leading. It will not be long before we join the ships that went by the other way. Much depends on the position of the Port Arthur and Vladivostok fleets, as well as of Port Arthur and Vladivostok themselves. It also depends on how matters stand with Kuropatkin at the time of our arrival in the East. Judging by descriptions, Great Fish Bay is not an important place. The settlement consists of seven houses, two of which are uninhabited. It is surrounded by the desert. There is no water, so it has to be brought from a distance. Fish are plentiful. It is a very good anchorage. We shall probably be there to-morrow morning. It is cooler now. In my cabin there are 24° R. The drawers of the table can be pulled out once more. _November 23rd._--The temperature continues to fall. In the open at present there are only 14° R. They count on arriving at the anchorage at twelve o'clock. We are now going further from Port Arthur, but after doubling the Cape shall approach it. The voyage from Tangier to Port Arthur is about the same as the voyage from the Cape to Port Arthur. What a much longer distance we have come by going round Africa! 1.50 p.m.--We have arrived at Great Fish Bay. It is not particularly pretty. On one side the shore is high and jagged, and on the other it is flat. There are small houses in several places on the low-lying shore. From the ship they can hardly be seen, even with a telescope. The shore is sandy. No doubt there is neither post nor telegraph station here. Wherever one looks there is sand--nothing but sand. A Portuguese gunboat has just passed the _Suvaroff_. (Her name is _Limpopo_.) She is a very small and insignificant ship. She was anchored far out in the bay, and has now gone no doubt to acquaint the authorities that our fleet has arrived and anchored at Great Fish Bay. This will be a surprise for the Portuguese. We do not, however, stay here for long. To-morrow evening we get up anchor. 4 p.m.--It appears that the Portuguese gunboat, _Limpopo_, went round the fleet and stopped near the _Suvaroff_. Her captain came to the admiral with explanations. I do not yet know what he said, but it can be nothing pleasant for us. Yesterday, before the fleet arrived, the gunboat compelled one of our colliers to put to sea under a threat of firing on her. The moment the fleet arrived the colliers re-occupied the places assigned them by the admiral. They say the admiral assured the commander of the Portuguese gunboat--or, more correctly, led him to suppose--that the fleet was four miles from the shore; that is, that it was in neutral waters. Amongst other things, the Portuguese stated that it was known that our ships would call at Great Fish Bay. Curious how this could have been known at Lisbon, where the arrangement to send a man-of-war here was made. Probably they were informed by the English, who jealously watch every movement of our fleet. The hospital-ship _Orel_ has left, and will call at Capetown. We shall go to Angra Pequena from here. The Germans (to whom it belongs) call it Lubevitz Bay. It is situated one thousand versts from here. We leave this to-morrow at two o'clock. _November 23rd._--At anchor in Great Fish Bay. An hour ago I gave my letter to you to be sent to Europe by one of the steamers that is returning. The captains of the steamers had been on shore. They say that the beach is strewn with lovely shells and crowded with red flamingoes. The captain of the Portuguese gunboat told the captains of the colliers that he would forbid any attempt on their part to coal the fleet. What naïveté--or rather, what impudence! I have ordered them to call me at 6 a.m. to-morrow, in order to go to several ships. _November 24th._--From Great Fish Bay to Angra Pequena. I could not sit down and write to you all day. Somehow, everything went wrong. Just as I seated myself I was called away. I was on board the _Borodino_ to-day. I saw some Libreville photographs. They are very small; you cannot make out the faces. At four o'clock all our fleet began to weigh anchor. Two hours later the _Malay_ hoisted a signal that something had happened to her rudder. The _Roland_ was ordered to take her in tow. The hospital-ship _Orel_ is also going with us. Whales and albatrosses are seen more and more frequently. The albatrosses fly a tremendous distance from the land, and are very large; sometimes they measure sixteen to seventeen feet across the wings. Life on board is monotonous. One day is like another. You live in the past (at all events, I do), and dream of the future. _November 27th._--We passed the Tropic of Capricorn to-day. We are approaching Angra Pequena. We have lessened speed, in order to get there in the morning. The flagship's navigator considers that half our voyage will have been completed when we reach the southern end of Madagascar. At Angra Pequena I think we shall get news from the East. The Germans are probably more interested in the war than the French. A sailor in the transport _Korea_ has been seized with dysentery or malaria. God grant that the disease does not spread. Hygienic conditions are disregarded in the fleet. Many go on the sick-list. The wind has risen, the waves have increased. Before entering Angra Pequena boats will be lowered and will take soundings. The place is little known. Some ships might go aground. The post has already been collected. I hope to be able to send this letter to-morrow morning. _November 28th._--Approaching Angra Pequena. We have not yet reached the anchorage. We are steaming very slowly, for fear of going aground. The wind is still increasing, and the waves are dashing over the poop (the after-part of the upper deck). Even if the weather gets no worse our cruise round the Cape will not be a very happy one. _At anchor at Angra Pequena._ About one o'clock we reached Angra Pequena. The battleships anchored, but the cruisers remained at sea. There is not much room in the bay. It is impossible to stand on deck in unsheltered places. It blows fearfully. The waves are washing over everywhere. No boats have been lowered yet. There is no communication with the shore, or even between ships. The post has not been sent. You may imagine what the strength of the wind is when it is estimated at a force of ten. Report says that the mail-boats call here five times a year. Possibly one of the colliers will be discharged, and return to Europe from here. In that case the mail will be sent in her. _November 29th._--The wind abated a little during the night. A steamer came alongside, but the sea was so high that her side was crushed. One of our 75-millimetre guns was damaged, and a port was broken, which will have to be repaired or changed. Spare guns are carried in the transport. This is the third day that the mail-boat has been detained owing to the weather. We hear, from English sources, that there has been a fight at Mukden; the losses on both sides amount to 50,000 men. It is also said that the Japanese have taken by storm one of the forts at Port Arthur. The Russians blew up this fort, and 30,000 Japanese perished. All this is hearsay. On shore they say that a certain steamer puts to sea every night and watches passing vessels. Evidently this steamer is freighted by the Japanese, to follow and perhaps strike a blow at our fleet. Men are going out of their minds in the fleet. An ensign of the reserve serving in the battleship _Orel_ went mad, and also a sailor in the transport _Korea_. An English steamer arrived here and left at once. A German transport arrived with troops to put down the native rising in the interior. The mail apparently was not sent, and the mail-boat has already left. Perhaps they will be able to send it by the troopship, which is probably returning to Europe. Everything, as you see, is uncertain. We stop on and on here for no reason. It is still blowing hard. There is no communication between ships, and I ought to go on board the _Malay_. _November 30th._--We remain at anchor. Every precaution is taken. Searchlights illumine the horizon. Close to the fleet are two small islands belonging to England. It is perfectly astounding--wherever you look on the map there are English possessions, although they are small. Angra Pequena formerly belonged to England. She ceded it to Germany, but the two islands remained in her possession. Wherever we have called, the local authorities (some, perhaps, only outwardly) placed impediments in the way of our fleet. Angra Pequena is the first German port at which we have called, and the authorities are very friendly. The local commandant says that "he is not a diplomat, and he does not know officially of the arrival of the Russian ships. They are anchored behind a bend, and are not visible from his windows." I forget that Denmark also put no obstacles in our way; but, judging by the tales of those who have been in Denmark, the Danish people sympathise with Japan, and not with us. The Government involuntarily helps Russia. It is quite different with Germany. The sympathy of both people and Government is on our side. I do not know how it will be later, but at present we have nothing to reproach the Germans with. We do not know when our stay here will end. An English (Capetown) newspaper has been brought on board. Sad news! Kuropatkin has not moved, and according to the paper he received a reinforcement of 34,000 men after the battle of Liao-Yang. Can it really have been so few? The commander of the second army has only just arrived at Harbin--which means that the army is not yet in being. We learn that Kaulbars is appointed commander of the third army; he is said to be a very incapable general. At Port Arthur the Japanese have taken a hill that commands all the harbour. The ships are at a disadvantage, and they are hurriedly preparing to go to sea. This is the news imparted by an English paper. How sad it all is! Officers who have been to the post-office on shore found out that only ten Europeans--Germans--live in the settlement. They saw the troops sent out from Europe by Germany to subdue the natives. There are 1,200 men. Two of the German officers speak Russian, one of them excellently. There is general hatred of England here as well. She supplies with arms the natives whom the Germans are now going to subdue. She is evidently a country that tries to damage every one and to work mischief everywhere. The wind is still howling. We are waiting for it to go down. At our anchorage there is mishap after mishap. The _Malay_ and the _Meteor_ have just signalled that their engines are so badly damaged that they cannot repair them without help. The co-operation of the _Kamchatka_ is necessary, but I could not go on board. _December 1st._--Yesterday from 10 p.m. to 1 a.m. I was going from one ship to another in a steam-cutter. What a time I had! The cutter pitched and rolled violently. She dipped her bows under and shipped large quantities of water. It was difficult to see because the salt spray blinded one. Sometimes the cutter pitched so much that her screw was out of the water and raced. To complete our discomfort, it was quite dark. After I had been to several ships I had to go to the _Kamchatka_. We could not discover where she was in the darkness. We searched for her. She was lying further from the shore than the other ships. It is difficult to describe what it was like near her. It seemed impossible not only to go on board her, but also to receive a bag which was lowered over her side. I had on a mackintosh, but there was not a dry spot on me. How was I to get on board? It was pure torture. It was impossible to go alongside the ship without the risk of breaking up the cutter, which was absolutely prancing on the water. There was no accommodation-ladder, so we had to get up by a rope-ladder, choosing a favourable moment. God help you if hand or foot slipped. You would either fall between the ship and the cutter and be crushed, or be struck by the screw if it were moving, or run the risk of falling into the jaws of a shark. Yesterday an officer fell like this, but luckily escaped with only a ducking. I again ran the risk of falling into the sea when going on board the _Malay_. I had only just seized hold of a rope when the cutter was torn from under my feet. I hung over the water, but got on board somehow. I shall not forget yesterday in a hurry. To-day it is nearly calm. Calm! I had to go to the steamer _Ratzentaler_; she was damaged. I reached her safely and examined her. This took me about an hour. I came up from below to get into the boat, and this "thing" called the sea was as boisterous as ever. With difficulty I let myself down into the cutter. She rolled and capered. Unfortunately, when shoving off, the screw fouled a rope, passed from the steamer. The position was critical, but fortunately the rope broke, and with great care, by going very slowly, we reached the _Suvaroff_. Some one remarked, as I was dangling on the rope-ladder, choosing the moment to jump into the boat, "If only your wife could see you in that position!" I was not in any actual danger. The Governor lunched with the admiral to-day. He came on board in the _Alert_, a small steamer. He says that such winds are usual here. If you only knew how sick I am of my surroundings! They say our cruise is a specially trying one; it has prejudiced me against the "beautiful" sea for ever. God grant that it end successfully! They will not entice me on board a sea-going ship again for a very long time. I have had enough of the sea--being torn away from home, living under unnatural conditions, everlasting surprises in the shape of breakages, damages, and repairs, dirt everywhere. You must not be surprised if I sometimes write ill-naturedly. My nerves are shaken a little, which is not surprising under the circumstances. _December 2nd._--To-day, for the first time, I saw cormorants swimming at sea; I also saw a jellyfish. The officer commanding the German expedition and the commander of the native troops came to call on the admiral. The latter did not return the call himself, but sent the flag-captain. The _Orel_ has lost an anchor and forty fathoms of cable. They are now grappling for them, as it was decided not to send down divers for fear of sharks. _December 3rd._--In the _Kamchatka_ they obtained an English paper from a collier, in which it is related that the Japanese attacked the part of our fleet that is going _viâ_ the Suez Canal, in or near the Red Sea. Our ships apparently received some damages. Perhaps this is a newspaper yarn. The _Roland_ went to sea yesterday, to bury the body of a sailor who died in the _Korea_. An order has been issued that we are to steam without any lights, in absolute darkness. Hitherto all lights were put out except distinctive lights--_i.e._ those absolutely necessary to show we are steaming. Now these are forbidden. It is settled that we leave here to-morrow morning early. What surprises are in store for us on the way to Madagascar? That there will be some is beyond doubt. I have been running round to-day like a squirrel in a cage. I went to the _Orel_ and _Alexander_, and was, as usual, a long time in the _Borodino_. The first lieutenant fell into a coal-shoot, hurt his leg, and is now laid up. It is very strange, whenever I go on board the _Borodino_ my spirits go up. I have noticed this more than once, and it is always with pleasure that I go on board her. Boats from every ship helped the _Orel_ to search for her anchor and cable. They only found them to-day at three o'clock. They had, after all, to send divers down several times. _December 4th._--I have not slept well the last few days. I am inclined to sleep, but it is impossible to lie down. The rats have greatly increased on board. However, they afford a certain amount of fun. The dog Flagmansky (this name was given him because he came on board the same day as the staff) found a rat in one of the cabins, and chased it into a cupboard. Several men took an active part in the chase. All this time Flagmansky barked, whined, rushed into the corners, scratched at the cupboard, and bit it. The hunt was not crowned with success, and he is still in the cabin guarding the rat. The cur has an extraordinary passion for rats. I put him into my cabin once (he begged to go there), and repented. He made such a disgraceful noise. For an hour and a half I could not drag him away. I had to call the orderly, who with great difficulty pulled him away from the cupboard. CHAPTER IV ON THE WAY TO MADAGASCAR _December 4th._--From Angra Pequena to Madagascar. I only went to bed at 4 a.m., and rose at 8 a.m. We prepared to leave here at dawn, but at 1.30 a thick fog came on and continued till 9.30. As soon as it dispersed, the fleet weighed anchor. In the night a schooner came and lay near the fleet. The officer of the guard went on board. She is flying the English flag, and says she has come here for guano. Our next anchorage is at Madagascar, near the small island of St. Mary. This island lies near the north-eastern shores of Madagascar. _December 5th._--There was a short mass to-day. A steamer was perceived far off going in our direction. Her funnel and two masts could only be seen from our masts. Perhaps she has come from St. Helena, and we may expect a surprise. At first she was noticed by the smoke from her funnel. She is now, no doubt, following us. Something has happened to the _Aurora's_ engines, but she has repaired it by now. To-day the _Suvaroff_ steamed with one engine for a quarter of an hour. Even the _Malay_, which has to be constantly nursed, is steaming successfully now. I expect several repairs were made when she was at Angra Pequena. 8 p.m.--The steamer which is on our course, though far away, overtook the fleet and went in the direction of Capetown. _December 6th._--To-day is December 6th. Where have I not spent this day? In Cronstadt, in Petersburg, in Tzarskoe Selo, in Tashkend, and in Gothland aboard the _Poltava_. Now I am spending it near the Cape of Good Hope. Who would believe that they would spend St. Nicholas Day near the southern coast of Africa? There was mass, prayers, and a salute. If foreigners heard it, no doubt it will appear in the papers that there was a fight, as firing had been heard. We have not yet reached the Cape of Good Hope. We are just steaming past Capetown. Table Mountain is visible. The swell is tremendous. The ships are rolling. It is fearful to look at the _Nachimoff_ and _Donskoi_, which are rolling especially heavily. The height of the waves sometimes reaches seventy feet. I was told this by the flag navigating officer. If we double the Cape in safety, then thanks be to God. They have arranged a game for the crew. They hang up a bucket of water with a board attached to it, in which there is a hole. Those playing have, in passing under the bucket, to thrust a stick through the hole. This they seldom succeed in doing. Usually the stick hits the board, and the bucket is turned over, spilling the water on the player. The players are driven under the bucket on a field gun-carriage. We are steaming near the shore. It is hilly, dark, and treeless. Table Mountain is distinguished by its height and its summit, which is flat, as if the top of the mountain were cut off; this is apparently why it got its name. The Cape of Good Hope is a shapeless pile of cliffs. There is a lighthouse. We have now passed this cape and Capetown. To-night we shall be off Cape Agulhas. When we have passed it we shall have left the Atlantic and entered the Indian Ocean. We shall be able to say, one ocean passed; two more remain, the Indian and the Pacific. As the crow flies we are now at the greatest distance from Petersburg. Up to the present we have been going away from Japan, now we begin to approach. Near Capetown we met an enormous four-masted ship, flying the American flag. She was coming towards us. We are expecting to meet three suspicious schooners. The weather is getting worse. In two hours we shall be on the same meridian as Petersburg; our time will be the same as it is there--that is, midnight. After this Petersburg time will be behind ours; hitherto it has been before. Evidently you cannot double the Cape without very bad weather. Perhaps it is all for the best, as it will be more difficult for the suspicious schooners to commit any hostile action. Astern of the fleet and on the same course there is a steamer. At first she showed lights, now they are not visible. The moon is shining, but will soon set, and it will be quite dark. This will be the time to expect any unpleasant occurrences. I hear the admiral does not want to take the small torpedo-boats with him, among them being the _Rezvy_ (Sportive). Perhaps some of the officers of these boats will be transferred to other ships. It has been decided that the transports _Malay_ and _Kniaz Gortchakoff_ are to return to Russia from Madagascar. Their engines are bad, and have to be nursed continually. All the fleet and auxiliary cruisers will assemble at Madagascar. The same steamer is astern of us; she has her lights out. It is not merely out of curiosity she does this. At first I used to be disturbed by reports of this kind, but am no longer. No doubt it is rather alarming, but nothing like it was before. How can this be explained? Nerves a little blunted, perhaps. It is summer here now. Nevertheless, at this time of the year ice sometimes drifts from the antarctic regions. They say a mountain of ice 100 feet above the water floated to the shore in summer-time. _December 7th._--Just as I sat down at table I was called away. It causes an unpleasant sensation when the engines race--that is, when the screws suddenly begin to turn very much quicker. This happens when there is no water over them, and is caused by the vessel pitching heavily; consequently, there is no resistance to their turning. The steamer which has been following us all along is not to be seen. Perhaps towards night she will show herself somewhere. The wind has got up and raised a big sea. The sea is a following one. Great mountains of water pour on the upper deck. The ship is beginning to roll more heavily; we may expect a gale towards night if the wind strengthens. It is a good thing it is not a head sea--the ship steams more easily and does not roll so heavily. There is a lot of water on the deck in my cabin, as well as in other people's. I am now sitting with my legs huddled up. The water comes into the cabins through badly closed ports and badly riveted sides. The waves sometimes hit the side and make a noise like a shot from a gun. The weather is so bad that we need have no fear of being followed by the Japanese. They could no doubt attempt to fire a torpedo from the steamer, but it could hardly hit, and the steamer would certainly be fired on and sunk. The battleships _Suvaroff_, _Alexander_, _Borodino_, and _Orel_ have many defects which could be remedied in the construction of the _Slava_ (Glory). _December 8th_.--The weather was such yesterday that God grant we do not experience it a second time. Early in the morning it was tolerable, but later on the wind began to freshen. Standing on deck was difficult. The waves grew larger and larger--like immensely steep hills round the ship. They attained a height of forty feet. From three to four o'clock the fury of the gale reached its height. I am not sufficiently eloquent to describe it all. The ship tossed and groaned complainingly. Everything was tightly shut, but water came in everywhere. It poured in cascades on the upper deck, went into the turrets, stokeholds, engine room, conning tower, and even on to the bridge. You could not walk on the poop, or you would be washed overboard. You could not breathe in the cabins; the atmosphere was like a bath (steam), if not worse. The wind roared, the ship rolled. The waves came up quite vertically--you looked and saw a wall of water. A boat which hung at the davits was smashed to bits, torn away, and carried off to sea. Astern of the _Suvaroff_ came the _Alexander_; at times, when the sea lifted the latter, her ram was visible. Sometimes her bows were at the bottom of a wave, and her stern at the top; and then all her deck, from bow to stern, could be seen from the _Suvaroff_. When I saw this I could not at first believe it. The best-behaved ship was the _Borodino_; she is a ship to be proud of. At last the weather got to such a pitch that, had the engines or rudder of any ship given way, she would have been in a hopeless position. To think of help from other vessels would be useless. At this time each ship only thought of herself. The steamer _Roland_ was flooded with waves minute after minute; she had to increase speed to escape them, and disappeared out of sight of the fleet. She rejoined to-day. Thank God it was a following sea and a fair wind. What would it have been had it been a head or beam wind? At 5 p.m. something went wrong with the engines of the _Malay_. She stopped and turned broadside to the wind. If you could but see what a sad sight she presented! It was impossible to help her, even if she had gone to the bottom before the eyes of the whole fleet. Nearly all the underwater part of her was visible. Wave after wave rolled over her. To help herself a little she set small and wretched sails. They were no good. The whole fleet, without lessening speed, went past the _Malay_, leaving her to cope by herself with the broken engine and the bad weather. Since then she has not been seen. How does she fare? It is not known whether she is afloat or sunk. We shall know nothing before we get to Madagascar. Perhaps all will yet be well. The Indian Ocean has not given us a very affable reception. They were afraid that the wind would get up to-day, but although it is fresh it is tolerable. Storms such as we experienced yesterday last for a fortnight without a break. Last night, when the gale abated, rain squalls began to pass over us. This pleasure was not continuous; besides, we were wet enough without them. I went to bed late. I had wandered all over the ship. Went to sleep undressed. My feet had been wet through since the morning. While at lunch yesterday in the admiral's cabin a large wave rolled on to the upper deck; the door leading to the poop from the cabin had not been closed, and a cascade of water poured in. Every one raised their legs and kept them so until sailors had dried up the water. This wave was one of the first to fall on the ship. What weather! You seldom see the like! I wrote to you that we had passed the meridian of Petersburg. I was mistaken. We only passed it to-day at 8 a.m. _December 9th._--The weather is gradually mending. The ship rolls lightly. In the _Suvaroff_ the cook and the messman were French. The messman left the ship at Vigo, and the former cook became messman. Every one grumbled at him. At last it was decided to get rid of him. One of the officers undertook to superintend the cooking. The messman will be put on shore at Madagascar. Thanks to the favouring gale and fair wind we shall, it appears, reach Madagascar considerably earlier than was anticipated. _December 10th._--The weather is nearly quite calm, although the ship is still rolling slightly. At 8.30 the _Borodino_ left the line. Something went wrong with her steering gear. She has not left the fleet, but is steaming alongside it. Now she has repaired the damage. There are about 1,400 miles more to St. Mary, our next anchorage. Under favourable conditions we should arrive there in six or seven days. We shall get the mails and newspapers there. No news has been received about the _Malay_, though they call her up by signal in the evenings. If she has not suffered shipwreck, she must be far from the fleet. Her speed is inconsiderable. We shall learn her fate at Madagascar. _December 11th._--During the night on board the _Suvaroff_ the coal in the bunker caught fire. The fire was speedily extinguished with steam, which was injected into the bunker. There is only a slight wind to-day, but the deadly swell continues. It is impossible to open the ports. Yesterday they brought my cap-covers from the wash. They are so torn now I can hardly wear them. You cannot imagine what a barbarous wash-house we have. They bring back the linen torn and stained. No matter how strong a material your tunic is made of, they tear it. The _Orel_ left the line, having damaged her steering engine; but she quickly set it right and resumed her place. Just before the colours were lowered to-day a cloud appeared on the horizon, like smoke. They thought it was the _Malay_ overtaking us. Our excitement appeared to have been needless. The _Kamchatka_ complained of bad coal; she could not keep up sufficient steam, and began to drop astern. Her captain, by signal, asked permission to throw overboard some 150 tons of bad coal. The admiral, seeing in the fall of steam the work of some evil-disposed persons, refused, but gave permission to throw overboard the wrongdoer. No sooner is the tale of the _Kamchatka_ ended than the _Suvaroff_ lies motionless, having damaged her steering engine. It was repaired somehow, and we proceeded. _December 12th._--A curious thing happened last night. They were communicating with the _Kamchatka_ by signal. She hoisted a signal about her speed. The ship's signalmen interpreted the signal thus, "Do you see the torpedo-boats?" The officer of the watch sent down to wake all officers, and tell them that a torpedo-boat attack was imminent. Buglers and drummers were stationed to sound off quarters for action. There was general alarm. A strong wind is beginning to blow. I hope it will not turn into a gale again, as it does not bring much joy. When you are ashore you pay no attention to the weather, whereas now you attentively follow its strength and direction. If nothing happens, there are four days' journey left to our anchorage in Madagascar. Up to the present we have come quicker than was intended. The storm on the eighth of the month helped us. At Madagascar the cruiser _Kuban_ will probably join the fleet. She left Russia after we did. She outstripped us, and we have not yet seen her. Probably at that island we shall be joined by the ships going by the Suez Canal. The weather is apparently about to get worse. The waves are again increasing. In the Atlantic it is calm; in the Indian Ocean it is always boisterous. They say that from Madagascar on it will be quieter. God grant it! It is impossible even for a minute to open one's port to let fresh air into the cabin. The artificial ventilation is very feeble. _December 13th._--Rain has fallen all to-day. The transport _Meteor_ for some reason began to drop astern. (She is carrying fresh water. Although they distil water in the battleships and cruisers, she is nevertheless sometimes of assistance. She usually provides the transports with water.) Like all the other ships, she complains of the bad coal, with which it is difficult to keep up a sufficient quantity of steam for the boilers. A storm has begun; the wind has suddenly freshened. Some say that this is a local squall, others that it is a cyclone. It is especially awkward for ships to get into a cyclone if they happen to be in its centre. Formerly sailing-ships that were caught in the centre of a cyclone seldom escaped. No doubt it is not so dangerous for steamships; yet, all the same, it may cause discomfort enough. To-night is very dark. Black clouds stretch over the sky. The storm sometimes moves away, sometimes approaches us. _December 14th._--It was a cyclone yesterday; it only caught us with its circumference. Until one o'clock I was on deck. We are now passing along the eastern shore of Madagascar, and about thirty miles from it. The shore is clearly seen with the naked eye. It is high and mountainous. Just before twelve o'clock a steam-pipe burst in the stokehold of the _Suvaroff_. The steam whistled and began to pour into the stokehold. The men were nearly scalded. Some of them fled into the bunker, and shut the door behind them with the aid of a stoker, who remained in the stokehold and found a means of saving himself another way. _December 16th._--Off the island of St. Mary. They have brought news from the shore. Ay! such news that the remembrance of it is nauseating. All the ships at Port Arthur are destroyed. The _Gromoboy_ (Thunderer) has struck on the rocks. Kuropatkin sits tight at Mukden and organises parades. A third deep-sea fleet is leaving, or preparing to leave, Libau. Can this be true? What is all this? Are they joking, or have they quite lost their heads? You cannot imagine how mortifying it is. Everywhere are failures, corruption, stupidity, and mistakes. No doubt you, living in Petersburg, have heard all gradually. It all falls on us as a sudden blow. Involuntarily you are overwhelmed with horror. There is not one bright spot; all around is hopeless darkness. Yes, our affairs are bad, very bad! The steamer _Roland_ is going to the town of Tamatave, which is about a hundred versts from our anchorage. The hospital-ship _Orel_ arrived from Capetown and brought newspapers. The officers of the _Orel_ say that in the streets of Capetown you constantly hear Russian spoken; that is, by Jews from Russia. There are some thirteen and a half thousands of them. Many of them have fled from Russia in order to escape their military obligations. The Jews so besieged the _Orel_, wishing to look over her, that at last the police had to drive them away from the ship. _December 17th._--The _Roland_, when coming out of Tamatave, signalled that the _Malay_ was coming in. A schooner flying the Swiss flag has arrived here--schooner of a country where there is no sea! The _Malay_ has arrived. It does not do to believe all the news from the fleet. For instance, to-day a telegram was sent _viâ_ Tamatave, saying we had coaled near Durban. Nothing of the kind occurred. It was telegraphed to alarm the English and compel them to institute an inquiry. In one word, to make them show that they had not broken their neutrality. The _Orel_ brought the captain of the _Suvaroff_ the _Novoe Vremya_ (New Times) and _Birgevya Viedomosti_ (Bourse News) from Capetown. How eagerly we read them! Our fleet lies in the strait between the islands of Madagascar and St. Mary. To-day we were informed from St. Mary that two ships were lying on the other side. Was it from these ships we received signals? They suppose them to be Japanese cruisers, and fear for the _Roland_. She has not returned. If there are Japanese cruisers here they might easily catch her and send her to the bottom. It is very probable that the ships coming _viâ_ Suez are lying in the Mozambique Channel, off Madagascar (near the western shore). As yet we have no news of them. _December 18th._--To-day the admiral and several officers of his staff went to the island of St. Mary. I did not want to go, so did not take advantage of the opportunity. The steamer _Esperanza_, which is bringing provisions for the fleet, has not yet arrived. She had to call at Capetown, and then follow us here. Perhaps we shall remain off the island here for a prolonged time. Evidently the term of our stay depends on the answer to the telegram sent to Petersburg. To-morrow a steamer arrives (French), and leaves on the 21st, taking the mails. The _Roland_ has not yet returned. Where the rest of the ships are is not known. The question of the return to Russia of the _Malay_ is definitely settled. She is to go to the Black Sea. Her stores will be taken in the other transports. She goes from here _viâ_ the Suez Canal, taking the sick and feeble from the fleet. That will be one burden the less. _December 19th._--I have been to St. Mary to-day. The trip began by our scarcely reaching the shore. It was rough, and a head sea began to pour over the cutter. I was wet through, and cursed myself for coming. The scenery here is very little different from Gaboon and Dakar. There is the same rich tropical growth. The types of inhabitants are different. The people here dress more than those at Gaboon, and appear well built. The population does not enjoy the confidence of the French, and the soldiers are taken from another place. Not long ago the natives killed two European officers in Madagascar. When our fleet arrived, they thought we had come to punish them for the murders, and several settlements ran away. St. Mary is a Sagalien for Madagascar. There are two prisons--one for political offenders, the other for capital offenders. What strikes one generally about the negroes is their gait. They walk holding themselves upright. I wandered about on shore, was in the village, and looked into the church (Roman Catholic). It is the new year to-day, according to the New Style. The population are dressed in their holiday clothes. I bought six very pretty shells in the village for a franc. Strolling along the beach I collected fifty shells--one large one of six to eight inches diameter. My walk along the beach was poisoned by anticipation of having to row back to the ship, which, with the others, lies very far from the shore. I went on board the ship, and there was a surprise for me--to go to the _Esperanza_, which had only just arrived. The weather had already grown much rougher. Two Frenchmen have come aboard the _Suvaroff_, and they cannot get ashore; they will have to spend the night here. The sailors from their boat are negroes, and have been sent to sleep with the crew, whose chance guests afford them amusement. In the morning the _Roland_ arrived, and brought the news that they had seen a suspicious schooner and a destroyer (Japanese). They saw Admiral Folkersham's fleet (which came by Suez) had gone to Nosi Be. No answer had been received at Tamatave from Petersburg. A French steamer will bring us the answer to-morrow. At Tamatave the French gave our officers a friendly reception. On the occasion of the arrival of the Russian fleet they even printed the menus with the double-headed eagle and our flags. _December 20th._--I was called early this morning. I have to go to the _Esperanza_ again. I am wet through, and have to change my clothes and boots. It is a good thing that those I wore yesterday have dried. The Frenchmen have gone and taken with them the letters and telegrams to give to the steamer. I missed the dispatch of letters owing to the trip to the _Esperanza_. Our fleet will soon shift its anchorage. We shall hardly go to Nosi Be. It is awkward to lie there, and the bay is shallow for battleships and also for transports. The refrigerator in the _Esperanza_, which cools the air in the holds where the meat is stowed, is damaged. This is unfortunate; the meat will go bad, and we shall have to feed on salt meat. At four o'clock the steamer _Pernosbucco_ arrived here; she brought no news from Petersburg. At seven she left for Diego Suarez. To-morrow we get up anchor and go north to some bay. A stoker died on board the _Oslyabya_; he was buried at five o'clock to-day. The _Oslyabya_ left the line, half-masted her colours, fired her guns (a salute), and committed the body to the sea. During this ceremony the officers and crews of all the ships stood at "attention," and where there were bands they played "Kol Slaven."[4] To-day the wireless station received some signals, evidently sent from a great distance. None of the ships could decipher them--it was not known, even, in what language they were written. To-morrow I shall learn whether it was not one of our newly arrived ships that signalled. _December 21st._--In the bay of Tang-tang. This morning we weighed and shifted from St. Mary nearer to Madagascar, in the bay of Tang-tang. It is better protected than where we were lying. The guns are ready at any minute to commence firing. In all corners of the ship are men talking in undertones. They anxiously scan the horizon. The outlines of the nearest ships stand out in black silhouettes. At the sides the torpedo-nets are rocked by the waves. The searchlights are ready to instantly illuminate all around. The tension is felt, though there is absolute stillness. Every one is chilled by fearful anticipation. _December 22nd._--To-day the cruiser _Kuban_ is expected to arrive, and to-morrow the squadron that came _viâ_ Suez. In the English newspapers there is an announcement that Russia has ordered thirty ships of various kinds in Germany and Italy. Those undeciphered signals which our wireless stations received have been made out by some one in the _Nachimoff_. The signal was Japanese. It stated that "the Russian fleet is lying without lights off the island of St. Mary." To-day a French officer commanding some local troops arrived, and spent the night on board the _Suvaroff_. The torpedo-nets were again got out; the crews were at their guns; steam and mining cutters lay near their ships, one-third of the officers were on deck by order, and a large number out of curiosity. The night was rather dark--half the sky was covered with clouds. Occasionally sparks of light glimmer here and there. Some one is signalling. A light flashes on shore; it is answered from the sea. The _Aurora_ reports that she saw six lights astern of her. I myself saw four out at sea and one on shore. What will to-night bring us? An attack must be expected. Everything is so unusual. All lights are hidden. At dawn a cruiser is leaving with secret orders, apparently for the colliers. _December 23rd._--The _Malay_, which remained at our former anchorage, has not yet reached the fleet. The cruisers have gone. The _Roland_ has not yet returned. The _Kuban_ is not here, nor the squadron from Suez. To-night there was a long story from the _Esperanza_, which is cruising under the French flag and has a French crew. The crew, not liking to lie at anchor without lights during the night, threatened the captain. These brave Frenchmen feared an attack. The _Esperanza_ has now been sent away somewhere. A collier arrived bringing some information, thanks to which we shall leave here to-morrow--whither I do not yet know. Evening.--The _Kuban_, it appears, is lying at Diego Suarez, and the ships from Suez at Nosi Be, where we are also going to-morrow. _December 24th._--Port Arthur has surrendered. What more can be said? On the way to Nosi Be from Tang-tang. The sad news of the surrender of Port Arthur was brought by the _Roland_. She arrived to-day. On the 24th the cruiser _Svietlana_ and the torpedo-boats _Biedovy_ and _Bodry_ joined the fleet. The latter damaged her engines, and was at once taken in tow by the _Roland_. The same day we met two colliers. They were ordered to go to Nosi Be. On the 25th the _Bodry_ reported that she had very little coal. The fleet stopped, and the _Bodry_ took coal from the _Anadir_, going alongside her. It is a good thing it was calm, and this could be done without risk of damage. Yesterday there was mass and prayers. It is really Christmas. After mass the admiral made a short but impressive speech to the crew. All the ships saluted according to regulation. They fired thirty-one guns. In the evening the _Borodino_ reported by semaphore that shortly before sunset four large warships were visible from her masts, steaming in line ahead. Afterwards three of the ships turned and disappeared. Lights were burning on the remaining ship. After a short time, they made out that this ship, having put out her lights, altered course and also disappeared. There is evidence that there are Japanese warships off Madagascar. The night passed in alarms. Some lights were visible away from our course. Attacks were feared. Instructions were given to the battleships and transports what to do during an attack. The cruiser _Svietlana_ was sent to the squadron lying in Nosi Be. I could not sleep from the closeness in my cabin. Until 6 a.m. I slept in my clothes on a sofa in the wardroom. At 6 I went back to my cabin and opened the port. The sea wetted the table and fell on to the bed, but that afforded nothing but pleasure. It does not even wake you. This morning we got into communication by wireless with the _Svietlana_, which is ahead of the fleet, while she was in communication with the squadron at Nosi Be. It appears that our cruisers _Aurora_, _Donskoi_, and _Nachimoff_ are lying there. Yesterday it was supposed that the ships seen in line ahead were these cruisers and the _Kuban_, which joined them from Diego Suarez. Now this supposition falls to the ground. We are going by a spot seldom explored and not sounded. Occasionally shallow places are shown on the chart, and the fairway along which we are steaming is very narrow; the depth is unknown--it has not been measured. We may go aground. To-day I finished writing those reports about the battleships _Borodino_, _Orel_, _Imperator Alexander III._, and _Kniaz Suvaroff_, which I began long ago. I must touch them up a little and send them to Petersburg. Many will be dissatisfied with them, and probably I shall make enemies for myself. No matter. Having once decided on it, I must carry it out--the more so as it appears to me the remarks will be very useful. At seven o'clock the torpedo-boat _Buiny_ (Boisterous) approached, coming from Nosi Be. All is well there. The torpedo-boat offered to escort the hospital-ship _Orel_ to the anchorage. At present our fleet is thirty miles from the anchorage. Owing to the dangerous entrance, we shall remain at sea all night, and go in to-morrow morning. Tossing on the sea all night with the transports is not without danger. _December 27th._--The fleet is steaming slowly, turning constantly in order not to be too far off Nosi Be. At 2 p.m. the _Roland_ hoisted a signal, "The crew have mutinied." The torpedo-boat _Biedovy_ was ordered to reduce the mutineers to submission, and if necessary to shoot them. The torpedo-boat, with such full powers, soon re-established order. It appeared that the stokers did not wish to take the place of two sick comrades, and hence the whole story. I hardly slept all night. Went to bed at four and got up at seven. We are approaching our anchorage. What news awaits us? After the destruction of the fleet and the fall of Port Arthur, affairs are radically changed. There is now no need for haste. There are three courses open to our fleet--either to continue the voyage to the East, to remain for an indefinite time in some place in the expectation that its presence will be necessary on the coast of Japan, or to return to Russia. If we are obliged to remain somewhere and wait, will the admiral remain in the fleet? And if he goes, what fate may his staff expect? I had just sat down and busied myself when I heard the sound of my beloved Little Russian march. I looked out of my port and saw we had arrived at Nosi Be. I ran on deck and saw a wonderful picture. The bay, the calm sea, hills all round--two of the latter especially, covered with a thick wood, stand at the entrance opposite each other. The sun is scorching. In the bay are the remains of the naval might of our unfortunate fatherland. The sounds of the march re-echo. We have rejoined all the ships that we parted from at Tangier more than two months ago. Here are all that are left to Russia. Can it be that they will be ingloriously and ignominiously destroyed? The fleet is still strong enough, but is it efficient? There were more ships, and they are battered to pieces or lie at the bottom of the sea. Can it be that our fleet will complete the great tragedy of the ruin of an immense navy? The meeting of our admiral and Admiral Folkersham was very hearty. They embraced. You cannot recognise the men in the boats of Admiral Folkersham's division. They are all in sun helmets, whereas our men have put neck-covers on their caps. Admirals Folkersham and Enquist were invited to lunch. They learnt the news. All are sad. There is neither telegraph nor post here. Torpedo-boats go to Mayung (Mojanga) in order to send the mails and telegrams. It is about 200 versts from here. There are few Europeans. We hear occasional newspaper reports which we do not know how to believe. One is perfectly terrible. Port Arthur surrendered with a garrison of more than 40,000 men, among whom were 1,000 officers. It is simply incredible! The triumph of the Japanese is complete; they will raise our ships that were sunk in Port Arthur harbour, and leaving them their former names, will fight in them against us. Admiral Folkersham says there are no mails or letters from Russia. He telegraphed twice to our staff requesting them to send on letters. They did not even reply. What is it to them, sitting snugly in Petersburg, that more than 850 officers alone have no news from home for two months? It is all the same to them! They are all right, and as regards others it is not their business. They do not count on taking the transports _Gortchakoff_ and _Malay_ any further, but will send them to Russia from here. It is said that, according to the first order, the fleet is to leave Madagascar on January 1st. The captain of the torpedo-boat _Buiny_ has come. There are several breakages and defects in this boat. I shall have to go to-morrow morning and make arrangements for their repair. We have a tremendous voyage before us--across the Indian Ocean, calling nowhere. Under favourable conditions we shall get to the East Indian Archipelago in twenty days, and then Japan is quite close. What will it be? Can the fate of the Port Arthur fleet await us? It is said that Nosi Be is extraordinarily like the harbour of Nagasaki. It is not possible to remain in one's cabin. The deck is so hot that you can feel the heat through the soles of your boots. The cyclone that overtook us on the way to Madagascar apparently caused much damage in this island. Thank God that we came happily out of it. The cruise in the ships that came _viâ_ Suez was much easier than ours. They called at well-constructed ports. The voyage was shorter. Officers and men were frequently allowed ashore. Our fleet accomplished a tremendous voyage, calling at a few deserted bays. The crew were not allowed on shore, and the officers seldom had permission to land. It is said permission to land will be given to-morrow. It does not attract me; the shore is wild and deserted. To-night I can sleep with my port open. I shall be able to breathe. I must go to bed early. It is already late, and to-morrow I must get up early, and dash round the ships. At present there are few damages. Perhaps they have not been able to report them. I shall see to-morrow. FOOTNOTE: [4] A funeral march. CHAPTER V AT MADAGASCAR _December 28th._--Since early this morning I have been visiting ships. Here is a description of life in a torpedo-boat,--crowded, dirty, hot, and always rolling; the decks littered with various things, the crew sleeping in every corner. Dogs are crowded together, and in several boats there are monkeys. There is nowhere to walk. The crew--good, resolute, bold, and crafty--are crowded with the officers, but do not inconvenience them. I called on the _Borodino_ and went into the wardroom and captain's cabin. During the last voyage they got up theatricals for the amusement of the crew. They were very successful. The clowns especially excelled; they say they were as good as professionals. The sun here scorches one severely. I descended from the _Kamchatka_, sat on the wooden thwart of the cutter, and jumped up quickly--I had burnt myself. _December 29th._--To-day from 12.30 I was on shore with the captain, buying wood. We were at a German factory, and I asked the Germans to send a letter when opportunity offered. I think they may be depended on. Letter No. 74 was sent by collier to Port Said, where the mail will be handed over to the Consul, and he will dispatch them to the staff, who will forward them to the addresses--a lengthy procedure. A steamer has arrived with provisions (the _Esperanza_). On shore I saw a negro suffering from the so-called elephantiasis. His legs were swollen, and were as thick as wooden posts. The disease only attacks negroes and Malays. I wonder what telegrams the admiral has received? A French torpedo-boat brought some service telegrams, as well as private ones, from Mayung (Mojanga). The former are, of course, in cipher. They are deciphering them now. My servant has just come to ask me to change his Russian money for French money. I gave him five francs. There is very little foreign money in the fleet, and great trouble in changing Russian. No decision as to the fate of our fleet has been received from Petersburg. They are silent--perhaps they are consulting. Three officers have been discharged from the fleet: an ensign who went mad, a lieutenant through illness, and the paymaster of the _Aurora_. A court of inquiry has been appointed to survey the transports _Malay_ and _Kniaz Gortchakoff_, which are being sent to Russia. I am one of the members. I wanted to go ashore to-morrow, but shall not be able, owing to this inquiry. It is very trying, having to remain waiting the decision of the fate of the fleet from Petersburg. _December 30th._--I was unable to finish my letter yesterday, as I was sent to the _Borodino_. I went there at twelve, midnight. An unfortunate accident occurred. Two sailors went into the wing passage and were suffocated, although the manhole was open. The closeness in these passages is frightful--there is little air, and poisonous gases accumulate. The sailors, in my opinion, became weak, could not lift themselves up the ladder, fell, struck their heads on something, and were suffocated. They wanted to make a post-mortem on the deceased, but did not do so. I passed the night in the _Borodino_, in the admiral's dining-cabin on a sofa. At six I got up, having slept for two or three hours. They provided me with a mat and a pillow. It was fearfully hot and stuffy, although the doors and ports were open. The heat is unbearable. You are always wet with perspiration. Yesterday I saw a case of sickness from the heat. A writer was taken ill at night, though it was cooler then than in the day. A sailor in the _Suvaroff_ was also nearly suffocated in the wing passage. Sunstrokes are frequent. I called this morning at the _Suvaroff_, and was immediately sent on board the _Malay_ for the inquiry. While there I was twice sent for by the admiral. He wrote a severe order about the death of the two sailors in the _Borodino_. He ordered me to add to this order some technical details. Taking advantage of this, I toned the order down as much as I could in sending it to be printed. At four o'clock the dead sailors from the _Borodino_ were buried. The admiral was present at the requiem service. Their bodies were taken in a boat to the torpedo-boat _Bravy_. She took them further out to sea and committed them to the deep. It was a sad ceremony. When the cutter shoved off from the _Borodino_ with the bodies, they fired guns; the band played the funeral march, "Kol Slaven." The officers and crews of all the ships stood at "attention." Phew! how stuffy! I can scarcely write. In the _Borodino_ I saw that the officers, to escape the heat, slept on deck among the coal, like the crew, undressed and dirty. The beds of the officers are only distinguished from those of the crew by being mats. When I first saw this sleeping company I could hardly believe my eyes. What an unfortunate day it has been for the _Ural_! In the morning a sailor had a sunstroke, and in the evening two officers, an ensign and a lieutenant, were struck by the traveller of the Temperley,[5] which had carried away. The ensign was killed on the spot--his chest was crushed and his spine broken. There is still hope of saving the lieutenant. He received a blow on the head, and fell down unconscious; it may be he will pull through. It is a strange thing about this lieutenant. He is a Black Sea officer, and has only just come to the _Ural_. He was sent from the Black Sea at half an hour's notice to this cruiser. You see many officers in the fleet, but his Black Sea cap (all white with a peak) attracted the eye. He was on board the _Suvaroff_ an hour before the accident. They induced him to remain; he was late for his watch; but all the same, to his misfortune, he went to his ship. When he came on board us he met some comrades, told them a lot about the Black Sea fleet, abused it and its personnel. I was sitting near and was an involuntary listener. His stories interested me. Abusing the personnel, he related how three of his comrades with whom he lived made an end of their lives. "See," he said, "I lived with four comrades, and three of them have put an end to their lives, and something of the same kind will happen to me." He said this about an hour before the accident. For a few minutes before his departure I talked to him, and he told me how he had come to the _Ural_. There is a great talk in the wardroom now about the _Suvaroff_ being forbidden communication with the shore, because a sailor was absent and they made no attempt to find him. In every ship you must look out for animals--parrots, monkeys, oxen, chicken, geese, chameleons, frogs, pigs, and dogs; in a word, every sort is collected together. In one of the ships they brought a snake in the hay for the cattle. It bit an engineer in the breast, which swelled tremendously. They feared he would die. Now he is all right; the swelling has subsided. It is late; I must go and try to sleep. Haven't slept much for the last two nights. _December 31st._--There has been a great deal of talk about the sending of money to Russia for the crew. It cannot be managed. New Year's Eve is on us, but the days are so much alike that no one ever thought about it up to the present time. The sailor who had sunstroke died, and after death the temperature of his body was 43° R. I had scarcely finished my letter when I had to go in the cutter to the _Ural_. The _Ural_ is one of the steamers bought from the Germans. She is very well finished. In the saloons are paintings, gilt and carved decorations. She is very big. I went below, and the requiem service began. I shall not forget it soon. Here were joined luxury and poverty, elegance and squalor. The church is the former first-class saloon, now the wardroom, turned into a shrine. Eight large fans made a peculiar noise in quick time. A crowd of officers were there, dressed in white. The choir sang almost a gay chant--badly, but in tune; the priest helped them. During the pauses the dull noise of the fans was clearly heard. There were sentries on both sides of the coffin, which rested on a rude table, not covered with anything. It was more like a box than coffin, and had been made roughly out of pine boards, badly painted. The wood showed through the paint in streaks. During the service they sewed the coffin up in white calico. They could not find a whole piece, so added scraps. The wreaths were composed of fresh flowers. A sad spectacle. Apparently the ensign was not killed by the traveller, but by the Temperley itself. After the service the coffin was lowered into the boat by the very Temperley that wrought the accident. A steam cutter towed the boat to the shore, and was followed by a long line of boats, filled with the funeral party. When the coffin was being lowered, they fired a gun, and all ships put their ensigns at half-mast. The crews stood at "attention," and the band played the funeral march. Two bands awaited the procession on shore; they had accompanied the other dead man. This was the sailor (from the same _Ural_) who died from sunstroke. At the cemetery the funeral service was read, the coffins lowered into the graves, and the escort fired three volleys. Simple crosses were erected, and then all dispersed. They left behind two Russians to lie in their graves, far from their fatherland, among strangers, under simple white crosses with a crooked and uneven superscription roughly carved on them. Little did they think that fate would send them death far from Russia in a strange country, in the midst of luxurious though foreign nature! Little did they think that they would lie side by side--that both would be buried in the same hour. Indeed, one cannot escape fate. Another sailor has gone mad in the _Orel_. But enough of this.... _January 1st._--I left the wardroom at four o'clock. Many remained and occupied themselves in drinking. I returned on board the _Suvaroff_ yesterday, in the _Borodino's_ boat. The population of Nosi Be is a mixed one. You may meet negroes, Malays, Jews, Indians, and a few Europeans. Horses are scarce, and you travel in litters borne on the shoulders of men. There are numerous breeds of monkeys, parrots, lizards, crocodiles, etc. Cattle are plentiful; the oxen have humps, and immense horns. Yesterday a scene occurred with the oxen! When the funeral procession came up to the cart, to which oxen were harnessed, the band was playing. The oxen were frightened and ran wild. One tore himself away from the yoke and charged the firing-party following the coffin, with lowered horns. A catastrophe was narrowly averted. They soon succeeded in driving him away. The other struggled for a long while in the yoke, and at last got free. Chosen officers are going from each ship to all the others with congratulations. It is evident that they will return to their ships late, and not quite themselves. They are treated generously, and offence is taken if they drink too little. A torpedo-boat has arrived from Mojanga with telegrams; some are cipher telegrams from Petersburg--they have not yet read them. There is news that the _Oleg_ passed through the Suez Canal on the 31st. If that is so, she may arrive here on the 22nd inst. Am just going round the ships. _January 2nd._--The _Kuban_ has arrived. To-morrow I may go on board her. I have journeyed somewhat to-day. After lunch I went to the _Aurora_, _Nachimoff_, _Jemchug_, _Sissoi_, and _Voronej_. The latter belongs to the volunteer fleet. On board her I procured a thousand cigarettes for ten roubles. I was much pleased with this. In going on board the _Aurora_ I lost the top of my helmet. It acted as a ventilator, and cannot be replaced. I must go about without it. Several of us, I among the number, have prickly heat. It is not very disquieting, but at the same time does not afford any pleasure. In the _Jemchug_, where I have not been since Libau, they did not recognise me. I am so changed in face, owing to my beard. We remain here, and know nothing of when and where we are going. Probably we shall wait for the _Oleg_, _Isumrud_, and torpedo-boats. Persistent rumours are floating about that the fleet will return. Letters have been received from Sevastopol with very bad news. It is said that the sailors there have mutinied and created much trouble. They say there are serious disorders in Petersburg. To-day I should have gone to some ships, but could not, as all the boats were away for the exercise of landing parties. Finished my work, "Notes on Ships of the _Borodino_ Type." Handed them into the office to be typewritten. If it is true that we leave on the 6th or 7th, I shall hardly be able to send them to Petersburg. Can it be that we shall not wait for the _Oleg_ and other ships coming with her? That would be idiotic! To stay quietly and strengthen the fleet does not interfere with the cruisers and torpedo-boats. _January 3rd._--What a day it has been! I scarcely got through lunch when, at two o'clock, I went to the _Donskoi_, from there to the _Borodino_, and then to the _Ural_. Have only just returned to the _Suvaroff_, having had nothing to eat anywhere, and now only bread-and-butter. It is a good thing I fortified myself with chocolate. The _Ural_ is the former steamer _Queen Maria Theresa_. She ran between Hamburg and America. There are a lot of sick in the fleet; two belong to the staff, the flag engineer and the flag intendant. The senior auditor is sick, but is doing his duty. It is the fault of this climate. _January 4th._--I have been to the _Kuban_, which was formerly a German passenger steamer and ran across the Atlantic Ocean. She has all the conveniences of life, is roomy and luxurious, but as a warship the _Kuban_, like the other purchased ships, is useless. She has few guns; their calibre is small, and there is no armoured protection. All is wood. More animals have made their appearance in the ship. They have brought a hare, a porcupine, and a dog off from the shore. Wherever you look now you see birds, beasts, or vermin. On deck oxen are standing ready to be slaughtered for meat, to say nothing of fowls, geese, and ducks. In the cabins are monkeys, parrots, and chameleons. Having scratched you a letter, I went to put it with some postcards into the box. At the post-office were crowds of people, hurrying to post letters to catch the outgoing steamer. I scarcely waited to buy stamps for the postcards. As stamps would stick together while being kept, those having greater values are not covered with gum. This is very inconvenient, as you have not always gum at hand. I had to buy some gum-arabic in a shop. Indians are the principal shopkeepers here. Boys in the street call out simple words of Russian, and frequently repeat them. Profiting by the arrival of the fleet, everything is dreadfully dear. They have never before done such a roaring trade. One of the places here has a high-sounding name--"Parisian Café." The landlord of this café says that after the departure of the fleet he will close it and go to Paris. He will never earn more than now. From the post-office I went to this café. They persuaded me to play vint (Russian whist). Close by were a lot of officers playing macao. They play very high (during our stay at Nosi Be one officer succeeded in losing more than £400--_i.e._ 4000 roubles). I did not sit down to play macao; but just trifled with it, lost sixty francs, and then went to the quay. It was time--just six o'clock--and the boat was due to shove off. By seven I was on board, having been on shore less than four hours. On going into my cabin I learnt some news. We leave on the 7th. The post was sent by Günsburg. Whether we leave Madagascar on the 7th, or are only going to change our anchorage, I do not know. Either is possible. _January 5th._--I went on shore to-day. There was a large crowd around the post-office, all Russians. Some were posting letters, others buying stamps. I thought I would go into a café to get a drink. I asked for a bottle of soda-water with ice, and squeezed a grenadine into it. For this they charged four francs. I left the café and went to the cemetery, where the Russians and other Europeans were buried, and sat there awhile. It is a poor place, all overgrown. The memorial crosses are the only white spots. Everything is sunk, hidden by the tropical growth. It is almost a forest. Many birds flutter about in the trees--some remarkably pretty, with rich plumage of all colours. I saw a colibri there (the smallest bird in the world). I used to think they were considerably smaller than they actually are. From the cemetery I returned to the post-office. My companion lost all hope of posting his letter, so many were waiting their turn. I persuaded him to remain, and we managed to do our business there. We went to the quay, but the boat was not there. We had to wait, so, being tormented by thirst, we went to the café. I drank a bottle of lemonade, and my companion a bottle of beer, and it cost four francs. A bottle of champagne costs forty francs--_i.e._ about fifteen roubles. In every corner of the café officers from the fleet are sitting at tables and playing cards, vint and macao. At three tables macao was being played for heavy stakes. French officers from the torpedo gunboat looked on in astonishment. I did not play. Several men obtained riding-horses and mules--tired, broken, and lean beasts. A large number of officers from the _Borodino_ walked through a virgin forest, forcing their way through the lianas. They made themselves very dirty. Two officers from the _Suvaroff_ went out shooting, but bagged nothing. At seven o'clock I returned on board, fairly tired, having walked nearly all day. _January 6th._--Although I was tired, I went to bed last night at twelve. It rained all night. This cooled our hot sides, which do not generally grow cool during the night. Now there are constant rain squalls. There was mass, prayers, and the blessing of the water to-day. The priest made a procession to sprinkle the ensign and the jack.[6] There was chicken pie for lunch, but a very inferior one. The French torpedo-boat again brought official telegrams. They have not yet been deciphered: perhaps they contain something interesting. _January 7th._--Yesterday a steam cutter from the _Donskoi_ went aground. They got her off to-day. A native came and complained that a boat from the fleet had sunk his catamaran (native boat), in which was a case of champagne, a case of rum, and a box of lemons. He was probably indemnified. I had just sat down to write when I was required to go on board the _Jemchug_. Just returned. The ladies' committee of the "Society to help the Wounded" sent the admiral the ikon of St. George "the Victorious," and fifty small crosses for the officers and crew. I received a cross and hung it to a chain with my own. It is very pretty, and made of mother-of-pearl. The rainy season, which should have begun a fortnight ago, was late. It has now begun--another pleasure for us. Many of the wardroom tumblers are broken. They cannot be bought here. Jam-pots are used instead. It is difficult to imagine how the local traders live. They have raised all prices considerably, and continue to raise them. The provision-ship _Esperanza_ will no longer accompany the fleet. I wanted to go ashore at 6 a.m. to-morrow with some one, to explore the interior of the island; but it is impossible. An inquiry is to be held in the _Malay_ to survey the coal left in her. I have to take a part in this inquiry. Again there are rumours that the fleet will leave here on the 11th. I think this is only supposition. The French mail-steamer leaves for Europe on the 9th. Perhaps this letter will be the last that will go in her. There will then be a break in my letters. Steamers do not often call here--only once or twice a month. Some chameleons were brought on board, and have now spread all over the ship. They are harmless; but to me, at all events, they are repulsive. Some fellows take them in their hands and allow them to crawl over their heads and faces. _January 8th._--Since 4 a.m. there has been such a downpour, difficult to imagine if you have not seen it. Many men, desiring to wash in fresh water, took advantage of the rain to go on deck with a piece of soap and wash themselves. At this blessed moment I have to go to the inquiry in the _Malay_. While I was standing at a closed hatchway on deck, waiting for the captain of the _Malay_, a man was wandering about in white uniform, barefooted and capless. I paid no attention to him. Suddenly he approached me and stretched out his hand. I hesitated, thinking he was a drunken sailor playing a joke. "I knew you very well long ago. I am Titoff," he said. Then I guessed that this was the mad ensign from the battleship _Orel_. I shook hands with him, and said that I had not recognised him because he had grown a beard, although in deed it was only of two or three days' growth. He began to laugh, asked me if I feared Death, and had I seen him; and, pointing all round, he said, "This is all Russia," etc. They were not very pleasant minutes that I spent in his company. It was sad to see him. He walks about the dirty deck half undressed. He does what he likes. He may fall overboard, or fall down a hatchway, or slip from a ladder--no one looks after him. A melancholy spectacle! I returned to the _Suvaroff_ from the _Malay_ at twelve o'clock. I was hot and tired. Now the sun's rays are nearly vertical. I wetted my head with salt water and put a wet handkerchief in my cap. The leather of my boots burnt my feet. I found a letter from the captain of the _Jemchug_ awaiting me. I must go there and to the _Donskoi_. I am tired of going to the latter; I have to go there nearly every day. I lunched in my cabin. The orderly who waited on me said, "I have brought you a beetle."[7] I did not understand at first what he meant. Apparently it was a block of wood to put under the feet when sitting at the writing-table. 6 p.m.--Have been to the _Gortchakoff_, _Borodino_, _Donskoi_, and _Jemchug_. In the latter they are also using jam-pots as tumblers. It is a wearisome cruise. Officers and men have so many inconveniences and discomforts to bear. A fine company are collected in the _Malay_ to go back to Russia--the sick, prisoners, men dismissed from the service, lunatics, and drunkards. The captain has already reported that they do not obey him--abuse and threaten to kill him. Their conduct is defiant, and they will not submit to any orders. If they do not send a trusty guard he will always have to carry a loaded revolver, and shoot the first one who disobeys. In this steamer a strong and firm captain is required in order to reach a Russian port in safety with such a crew. A court for trying offences during the voyage was appointed to the fleet. To-day this court assembled to try a sailor of the _Suvaroff_. He had abused the chief boatswain, threatened, and disobeyed the orders of the first lieutenant. He was sentenced to three and a half years in a disciplinary battalion. Probably he will be sent to Russia in the _Malay_. _January 9th._--The foreboding about the _Malay_ is beginning to be justified. Last night an armed crew had to be sent to arrest the mutineers. They arrested four of the _Malay's_ hired crew. These have been divided among the battleships, in order that they may be put in cells. The most insolent is on board the _Suvaroff_. The appearance of the armed crew in the _Malay_ produced a great sensation. The rest of her crew instantly quieted down. They evidently had not expected the matter to end in this sad way. After those arrested have done some days in cells, it has been decided to put them on shore and abandon them to the dictates of fate. To be in cells on board the _Borodino_ is tolerable, but in the _Suvaroff_, "God forbid!" The temperature there is fearful, and there is no ventilation. I do not think that a man could remain there long. Among the four prisoners one only is the ringleader. It is he who is in the _Suvaroff_. One of them actually cried. To be cast upon a nearly desert shore! What will they do? There is no employment for them, and they lack the means of getting away. Could they join the foreign legion? It is not here, now that this place is unimportant. I have not told you what the foreign legion is. The French Government only enlists foreigners in it. It is stationed in wild places in the colonies where the population is unsettled. Desperate men, criminals, escaped convicts, and adventurers serve in it. On entering it they do not ask for passports, nor do they inquire into antecedents. In it are to be met representatives of every nation and of every grade of society. Its ranks consist of common soldiers, aristocrats, officers, and hawkers. Discipline in the legion is very strict in order to keep this rabble in submission. There are said to be many Russians in it. The legion was stationed in Madagascar for a long time, but the French transferred it to some other place. Now they regret this, and have brought the legion back, because it required so large a force of ordinary troops to cope with the natives. The foreign legion alone could deal with them. I suppose it dealt harshly and savagely with the natives, killing, robbing them, and burning their villages for every offence, real or imaginary. Owing to this the settlements were peaceful, and dared not rise against the French. _January 10th._--In the wardroom of the _Suvaroff_ there is a piano on which they play with the help of a pianola. There are very few who play the piano. To-day a sub-lieutenant came on board from another ship. He proved to be a splendid musician. For a long time they listened to his playing. Then they started capering and playing tricks. It was curious to see officers dancing the cake walk and the Kamarinsky (a Russian national dance), etc. They dressed up for these dances. They did this from sheer boredom. This wearisome and monotonous cruise has lasted so long. On the 16th the fleet will have been kicking their heels here for a month. No wonder they are silly from stagnation. Here is another of their amusements--they bait the dogs, and every one eagerly watches, applauding the fighting curs. There are many suspicious characters in Madagascar. One appeared at Nosi Be, speaking Russian. He offered his services as contractor to supply provisions for the _Suvaroff_ and other ships. This person roamed about in Tamatave, and now without any apparent cause has come here. He is very badly dressed and has long hair like a Slav woman. The mail-steamer left to-night for Europe. From Mayung cipher telegrams have been received. Perhaps they again tell us nothing useful. The situation of the fleet is most unsettled. Will it return to Russia, will it remain somewhere here, or will it go to the East? No one knows. This uncertainty oppresses me as well as others. Bad meat is daily thrown overboard in the _Esperanza_. Food for the sharks is abundant. They have collected in great numbers at Nosi Be. Nearly all the ships keep oxen on deck. There is even a cow and a calf on board the _Suvaroff_. They have built them a manger. The crew look after them with special fondness, feeding them with bread and giving them names. It is a curious sight, watching these animals being brought on board. They come tied up in boats, and are generally hoisted into the ship by means of a strop (loop of rope) tied under their bodies. For some reason, on board the _Suvaroff_ they are dragged up by the horns. The frightened animals, with wild and glaring eyes, struggle violently, hanging in mid-air. They lie down on deck at first, half crazy, and then suddenly jump on their feet and toss themselves about. They are then held and pacified. It was quite different with the cow. She tore herself loose and galloped frantically about the deck. All the spectators fled wherever they could. She charged at the deck-house, where an officer was sitting writing. He had hardly time to shut and lock the door. Somehow or other they caught the cow, but her milk supply has ceased, owing to fright, and the calf is still young. They now feed him on condensed milk. We wonder if the milk will come back to the cow. We are all interested in the matter, and discuss it freely. Life on board is so dreary, dull, and monotonous, that the most paltry trifles, which we would never dream of talking about on shore, become a ceaseless topic of conversation. If we only could get quickly out of this mire! _January 11th._--Heat, stuffiness, damp, dirt--everywhere beastliness, deadly gloom, uncertainty of the near future, lack of news from the seat of war, oppress and overwhelm us; but can incompetence reigning everywhere, laziness, stupidity, ignorance, unwillingness to work, listlessness, make us cheerful? What goes on here is perfectly incredible. There is news that the Hamburg-American liner _Bengal_ sank near the southern coast of Madagascar, having ripped her bottom on a sunken rock. She was a large 18,000-ton steamer, and was bringing coal for the fleet. Her crew were saved. A deplorably sad and stupid incident occurred in the _Nachimoff_ yesterday. Ships having no bakery on board obtain their bread, when at anchorage, from other ships or from the shore. They did not trouble about the matter in the _Nachimoff_. The crew were living on rusks. Yesterday they demanded fresh bread. The affair spread, and the men offered passive resistance by not dismissing after prayers, though ordered to do so. There is now to be an inquiry. At other times and under other conditions some of the crew would have been distributed among the other ships, and some would have been shot--there would have been no other alternative. Now they are trying to hush the matter up. In spite of this, some will suffer. One of the _Malay_ prisoners who was in cells in the _Alexander_ has been sent to the hospital-ship _Orel_, as he fell ill from the hot temperature in his prison. FOOTNOTES: [5] An apparatus for hoisting coal in bags out of colliers into the ships. [6] A small flag flown in the bow of the ship when at anchor. [7] An implement used by washerwomen. CHAPTER VI WAITING FOR ORDERS _January 12th._--It is very possible that on the 16th the fleet will receive instructions from Petersburg either to return, proceed to the East, or stay somewhere here until further orders. I wish they would decide quickly. Uncertainty is worse than anything. It is very unhealthy, staying here during the rainy season. Fevers, dysentery, and similar delights are rampant. Europeans cannot stand the climate. Anchorages like our present one end by having a bad effect on the spirits of the crew. They deteriorate. The affair in the _Nachimoff_ serves as an example of this. There has been a signal that we are to have steam up at 6.30 to-morrow morning, in order to go out to sea for firing. This will be our first practice since leaving Revel. I have not been ashore to-day. I was lazy, though the weather was tolerable. The rain is not incessant. They have brought a puppy on board, some shellfish, and some hermit crabs. They torment the molluscs by pouring eau de Cologne over them, puffing tobacco-smoke at them, and by burning them with matches. A lively occupation, but really it is excusable; there are no distractions, and they have invented this. _January 13th._--Weather is pleasant in harbour; probably it will be calm at sea as well. We are going to fire. We weighed anchor at 8 a.m. French torpedo-boats have followed us. They brought telegrams from Mayung. They went into harbour at Nosi Be, and handed over telegrams to the torpedo-boat _Bodry_. The latter pursued the _Suvaroff_, and passed the telegrams to the admiral by means of a rope-end. What news do they contain? Firing is just beginning. Everything is tightly closed. The mirrors have been taken down and crockery put away. 6 p.m.--The ships have finished their firing, and we are now going into the anchorage. Reuter's telegrams state that Petersburg and Moscow are under martial law and surrounded by a chain of troops; that the mutiny of sailors at Sevastopol continues; that they have burnt the barracks and Admiralty there; that the troops have refused to fire on the mutineers; and that military disorders are rife throughout Russia. These telegrams must be read with reserve, but I, at any rate, believe them. During manoeuvres to-day the _Borodino_ and _Alexander_ nearly collided. Thank God, this accident was averted. It would have been appalling. A few days ago they were doing some work in the _Suvaroff_ and opened a valve. They forgot to shut it, and opened another one yesterday, not knowing that the first had not been closed. In the night a whole compartment was flooded, and water poured into the engine-room. How I cursed that I had come in the fleet! Here you sit chained, seeing the mistakes of others, and are powerless to do anything. At times I really fear that I shall go mad. _January 14th._--The colliers brought news that the _Oleg_ has captured a steamer which was taking two hundred and sixty field-guns to Japan. It sounds improbable. This steamer, as far as I know, should have gone round Africa; and there our auxiliary cruisers awaited her. I went to a café on shore and played cards. I lost 170 francs (about 64 roubles). Returned on board about seven o'clock, late for dinner, so dined in my cabin. On shore I saw the man who was suspected of being a spy. He is very like a Russian, and wears his long red hair like an artist. 11 p.m.--Wonderfully practical folk, the Germans! They have sent officers to the colliers to help the captains. These officers are sent in order that they may watch our cruise and give useful information to their own navy. Would Russia do anything similar? No, never! This is why we are paying so dearly now. We are still far from having a fine navy or army. It is not a question of soldiers, but of organising a campaign, of constant preparation and of foresight. What a variety of coinage there was on the card-table--French, English, Russian, Italian, and Austrian. They play for very high stakes. One lieutenant in an hour won and lost 5,000 francs. We are daily expecting the arrival of the _Oleg_, _Isumrud_, and torpedo-boats. Judging by time, they are near Nosi Be. This is according to telegraphic agencies. Official news we never receive. It is always like that with us in Russia. The mail-steamer from Europe arrives on the 20th and returns on the 24th. We shall evidently wait here for her. The supposition that we should remain a long time in Madagascar is amply justified. It is exactly a month to-morrow since the fleet arrived at this island. That is how time flies. We have lost a whole month uselessly, and it is still unknown how much longer we shall be here. What are they thinking of in Petersburg? There are rumours here that after Klado's articles the public will demand the return of the fleet to Russia. Can it be that, even now, they are unable to decide whether to go backward or forward? The upkeep of the fleet costs large sums. It cannot become better or stronger, remaining whole weeks at anchor in Nosi Be. On the contrary, it will do nothing but harm. By wasting time here we give the Japanese the chance of repairing their ships and boilers. They are secretly preparing to meet us now. We have no bases. Can we be trusting to our country or merely to luck? What were they thinking about in sending the fleet? Our fleet is Russia's last might. If it is destroyed, we shall have no navy. Every one thinks this--I am not the only one. All this can scarcely raise the spirits of the men. Probably something similar is going on in the army. It is bad! Everything is bad, and there are internal disorders as well. How will it all end? _January 15th._--I have again been on shore. I learnt that the steamer _Vladimir_ of the volunteer fleet is leaking. I will go and look at her to-morrow. A new signboard has appeared on shore--"Skopolites, contractor of the fleet," in freshly painted characters. Shortly before leaving the ship a sailor fell into the water and made for a native boat. The negro hawkers took five francs from him, and wanted to row away without him. The sailor was rescued and the negroes were deprived of his money. The officers buy all sorts of useless rubbish, which, after they have taken it on board, is thrown aside and forgotten. I posted a letter to-day, went to the café, and played macao, winning 250 francs. I went round the shops, but, finding nothing of interest, returned to the café. I did not play, and afterwards set out for the quay. The _Esperanza_ has just come from sea. She leaves the harbour daily to throw bad meat overboard. She informs us that she saw three large warships and one small one far away. Perhaps they are Japanese. I myself saw a Japanese on shore to-day. Many others saw him. At one time there were not any to be seen. Cipher telegrams have again been received. They have not yet been deciphered. It is astonishing that they should inform us in cipher who has received rewards. The telegraphic agencies relate horrors about Russia's internal affairs. Among other things they mention serious disorders in Petersburg. They say that it has come to barricades in the street--that more than 2,000 men are killed, and more than 7,000 wounded. I fancy they lie, but there is never smoke without fire. I have to go to the hospital-ship _Orel_ to-morrow. The boats have to be fitted for the transport of the wounded. What were they thinking of before? This steamer was fitted out as a hospital and cost a great deal of money, but the boats were forgotten. Everywhere we make some stupid mistake. My beard has grown tremendously, and is very shaggy. I have not trimmed it. Every one hinted that it was time to have it cut, and at last the admiral and flag-captain spoke about it. I summoned the sailor Michael, who cut it so short that, looking in the glass, I did not recognise myself. _January 16th._--The _Esperanza's_ news has produced active measures. Until the moon rises all fighting-lamps are to be lit. They had seen that the Japanese, whom I mentioned yesterday, was sending telegrams by heliograph. He attempted to come on board our ships with the contractors. The German colliers brought news that newly bought ships are coming to reinforce us, and are at present at Cape Verde. Probably this is another canard. We shall soon see if it is true. It is a month's voyage for them to Nosi Be. This reinforcement would be most welcome. I do not believe in it. These same Germans assure us that the Black Sea fleet has left. They spoke about this long ago, and there is no sign of it. They evidently mistook the _Oleg_ and her companions for the Black Sea fleet. I have been on board the _Keiff_ and _Vladimir_ of the volunteer fleet to-day. Life in them is heavenly compared with life on board ships of the _Borodino_ type. There is plenty of space and the cabins are large, clean, and quiet. They live well, have free communication with the shore, etc. I remained to lunch in the _Vladimir_, and returned to my ship in her steamboat. Some sailor in the transport _Jupiter_ out of revenge cast off the collier's boat from the steamer and it drifted ashore with the current. Although it was night and the boat was floating away from the transport, they managed to catch it. There is a church on shore. Many Roman Catholics took the opportunity of making their confession. The confession was an empty one--that is, they did not confess to a priest, as the greater part of them had not command enough of the French language to speak of their sins. My servant brought me a letter to be sent to his wife. "My wife," he said, "is also called Sophie." He is a curious fellow, but I am satisfied with him. I heard various details of the Petersburg disorders in the _Vladimir_. The Europeans here live in a most extraordinary way. They come to the colony to make money, and then quickly return to their own countries. They deprive themselves of everything. They live almost in huts, and do not spend a sou more than they can help. After a few years of such life they become fairly well off, and leave the colony for ever. Their abodes are like a camp. The furniture is bad and broken. There are no conveniences, and no thought of comfort. There is no news. Telegrams are sent by heliograph to Diego Suarez. _January 17th._--A telegram has been received saying the _Rezvy_ has left her division, and remains at Jibutil owing to breakdown. She will probably not go to the East at all. Yesterday the local governor came to the admiral with a complaint that the officers of the fleet play games of hazard for high stakes at the café. Play is forbidden or all leave will be stopped. Two or three days ago the German colliers celebrated Wilhelm's birthday. They dressed their ship with flags and drank so much that they remained drunk until to-day. As the fleet moves forward the number of torpedo-boats grows less and less. Those that remain with us have damaged boilers, thanks to which they are unable to attain their full speed. The captain of the port at Diego Suarez went round our ships. He was saluted. Evidently this amused him. To-morrow part of the fleet are going to sea for target-practice. When shall we leave here? We are losing the best weather. Hurricanes, cyclones, and storms will begin soon, and with a fleet like ours the voyage will be very difficult. Before us lies an immense passage--viz. from Madagascar to the islands of the East Indian Archipelago. _January 18th._--Owing to high play we are forbidden to go ashore on weekdays. An order has been given to verify the cash of all the paymasters in the fleet. The inhabitants of Nosi Be consider the fleet the cause of there being so little rain. It generally comes down in bucketfuls every day during the rainy season. Now the rain is coming at intervals and it is bad for the crops. The natives are making offerings and have started a religious procession. Perhaps they are right, and the fleet is the cause of so little rain. It is necessary for the downpour of tropical rain that much electricity should collect in the air. It may be that the masts of our ships conduct the current of electricity into the water, not allowing it to collect in sufficient quantities in the air for rain. Doubtless the natives explain it differently. More and more frequently, at times, there falls on me complete oblivion to my surroundings. I have become absolutely apathetic. Everything is quite indistinct. Nothing interests me. My mind is crushed. I have such attacks of endless despair, such fancies, such horrible thoughts, that, by God, I do not know what to do, where to hide, or how to forget myself. 8 p.m.--We have returned and anchored at Nosi Be. To-morrow the fleet must go to sea again for firing. Since this morning they have been painting my cabin. How am I to sleep? It smells strongly of paint and turpentine. It will most probably give me a headache. The French torpedo-boats have brought neither telegrams nor news to-day. I got up early this morning and had no rest during the day, am fearfully tired, and shall have to get up earlier than ever. _January 19th._--Since communication with the shore is forbidden, I have to take every opportunity of sending my letters. I think it will be difficult for you to read my epistles. They are full of broken, unconnected sentences and muddled incidents. It will most likely be difficult for me to make them out myself. You receive several at a time, and that makes it more confused. Up till 8 a.m. we were getting up anchor, and then we went out to sea. Yesterday a projectile ricochetted on to the _Donskoi_. It touched the bridge, slightly damaged it, and flew further. No one was killed or wounded, thank God! It might have had a much worse ending. At five o'clock we returned to Nosi Be, not having hit anything this time. The admiral received a letter from the individual whom they suspected of being a spy, in which he complains of the unjust accusation. He says that an officer tried to poison him when he went on board the _Ural_, and that the Governor has offered to send him away from Nosi Be. Finally, he begs for money for his passage. The contractor with whom he came on board explained to the Governor about him. Among other things the contractor says that the man is continually disappearing, that they had to look for him in the ship, and that once he ate from the common tub with the crew. Knowing Russian, he was able to hide from the officers. Is it not extraordinary? A spy is going about our ships quite unpunished. It is a marvel! As if anything similar could happen to the Japanese! I do not think so! It is all so disgusting that I do not like to speak of it. You know what sort of characters there are in the fleet. When we were in Russia a man came and begged to be allowed to join the fleet. He threatened that if they did not take him he would shoot himself, and appointed a time. They accepted him, promoted him to the rank of petty officer, and then discovered that he was under age. However, it was too late; he is now cruising. There are several indications that the fleet will not leave here soon. They have brought news from the shore that Kuropatkin is about to take the initiative. We have already heard this so many times that we do not believe it. _January 20th._--To-day the French mail-boat ought to arrive. Many expect letters. Communication with the shore is allowed. I do not want to go, and have asked some officers to buy me three mats, three caps, and some postage stamps. I do not understand how they can go ashore just as the mail will be brought on board and be sorted. Do they really not care for the letters or for their contents? No; evidently "we are not all made of the same dough." Force would not take me out of the ship just now. It may be that the post we expected to receive from the _Oleg_ has just been brought by the French mail-steamer. What a disappointment! Only boots and tobacco, which were ordered and not sent to Admiral Folkersham through lack of time. They brought the mail to the _Suvaroff_ and began sorting it. I took an active part, cutting the bags, sorting the letters, and calling out the names of the ships. A great many officers helped. Writers came from all the ships, and surrounded the deck-house where the letters were being sorted. Sometimes a letter for me fell into my hands. I put it into my pocket. Sometimes my name was called out and a letter given me. The sorting ended, I flew to my cabin, and there on the table was another letter and a large official parcel. The latter was a book on ship-construction sent by the Committee. The rest of the letters were from you. I read them, and did not know what to do. I was agitated. I went and sat in an armchair in the admiral's after-cabin, and gazed and gazed through the balcony door at the harbour. An orderly came and said that a cadet from the _Borodino_ was asking for me. I was surprised. I went out, and he gave me another packet of letters bound with a ribbon, and said his captain found them among his letters. I thanked the cadet, and begged him to express my thanks to the captain. To whom were not letters addressed? To those ships lying quietly at Libau and Cronstadt, and to the ships that had been destroyed at Port Arthur. There was a letter for Popoff, who was killed in the _Ural_, and one for Titoff, who went mad and is in the _Malay_. Every one, having read their letters, seized the papers and devoured them greedily, grew heated, and quarrelled. Dinner to-day was specially lively. Several of the staff received rewards. Everybody had letters and parcels, and, what was extraordinary, most of the parcels contained warm clothing. There were many toasts drunk, and the band played. Two fellows were moved to tears. They had not had news from home for a long time, and now they received it all at once. If a torpedo-boat brings me your telegram, I shall be quite happy. _January 21st._--A Japanese spy came on board the _Suvaroff_ yesterday in the guise of a trader. No attempt, even, was made to detain him. The officials at the post-office are surprised that the Russians send all their letters registered. From the post-office I went round the shops with an officer. I bought some lovely postcards. We wandered into the village. A dog that was with us had a slight sunstroke. We took it into a café, rubbed its head with ice, bathed it, and now it has recovered. There is news that order has been established in Petersburg. Thank God! The French say that the _Oleg_ only left Jibutil on the 20th. That means she will not be here for a week. They have just read aloud in the wardroom the answer from Admiral Birilieff. As you can imagine, the majority are furious with him. They say, "How dare he abuse the fleet? Who gave him the right to do so? He knows nothing about it, though he is serving in the navy." These naval men dare to talk, after having ignominiously and needlessly ruined a navy twice as strong as the Japanese, scarcely doing any harm to the latter. What can be more infamous than the conduct of our navy? There has been nothing like it since the creation of the world. Words fail me to describe the shameless dishonour. They have the impertinence to say, "Who dare criticise us?" Imagine what I heard to-day. They said, "What the devil does it mean? It is perfectly revolting! Rewards are showered on the land forces, and we sailors have had nothing for Port Arthur." I am telling you the truth, word for word. When I heard it I was thunderstruck. When will there be an end to this inefficiency, bragging, and conceit? Russia may not ask these officers, "Where is the navy that was built by the sweat of millions of Russian people? What has it done? Has it done harm to the enemy? Will it help the fatherland? Will it add to the glory of Russia?" Oh no! you must not ask sailors these questions. They are more expert engineers than engineers themselves. They have more legal knowledge than lawyers. The naval ministry was created for themselves. They are demi-gods. They only are entitled to honours, riches, glory, everything; but naval work they do not understand. They do not serve for war, and are not prepared for it. The navy is to them the means of getting all the good things of life. They may be judges of others, hold their heads high and say, "We are naval officers. What more do you want?" However bitter this may sound, it is true. Do you remember my telling you how it would be? This voyage confirms my old opinions. To think that Russia counts on them! I never cared for Birilieff as a man, but we must thank him and Klado for their articles. Let Russia make acquaintance with the archaic systems of, and what she can expect from, our glorious Russian navy. I was getting ready for church just as they brought me your telegram. I was tremendously pleased, and no wonder, as I was waiting nine days for my answer. They are sending the band to play on the shore. The officers played tennis with the governor and his wife. A sad thing happened on shore: a sailor hit a petty officer in the face. _January 24th._--Thanks to the affair yesterday, leave to go ashore is only granted for the half-day. If it is absolutely necessary to send a boat later, then they have to ask the admiral's permission. It appears that there were several disturbances on shore yesterday, and all caused by a petty officer. To-morrow we are going to sea for target-practice. To-day the torpedo-boat _Blestyastchy_ (Brilliant) lowered a boat, which capsized. Three men were drowned. There are fatalities in the fleet nearly every day. _January 25th._--I read the newspaper cuttings you sent me. While the ships went out for target-practice, the mining cutters were left behind for exercise. They went a little way out to sea, and saved six natives whose catamaran upset. One officer had sunstroke, but recovered. It is very dangerous to go about here with an uncovered head, or to take off one's cap frequently, even if the sun is behind clouds. The Europeans do not risk going out of doors without a helmet. They continually warn Russians, but we are like the man who does not cross himself when it is not thundering. Perhaps we shall go to sea to-morrow for evolutions and firing. On Sunday it is proposed to have a race for the boats of all ships in the fleet. Many are grumbling--they will not be able to go ashore owing to these races. What a lot of time the fleet has wasted lying here! We might have been at Vladivostok by now. The _Oleg_ is detained somewhere. She will arrive at the end of the month. I think with horror that, even with her arrival, in Petersburg they have not yet decided our fate, but compel us to wait for the third fleet. And when will it reach here! Not for a long time--not for a very long time. _January 26th._--When I was in the wardroom on board the _Aurora_ a cannon-shot suddenly thundered overhead. It was the _Kamchatka_ saluting the corpse of the sailor who died in the hospital-ship _Orel_. Passing the _Kamchatka_, with white foam at her bows, was a long, narrow, black torpedo-boat. A row of men dressed all in white stood on her deck. The sound of the funeral hymn was heard. In the stern stood the priest with incense, near the coffin, which was sewn up with yellow canvas and covered with St. Andrew's flag.[8] The torpedo-boat was carrying out to sea for burial another Russian, who had died far from home. Many have perished in the fleet. Not long ago three men were drowned. Another one has died to-day. I am told that during the evolutions of the fleet the _Suvaroff_ nearly rammed the _Kuban_. _January 26th._--It is exactly a year to-day since the war with Japan began. A sad anniversary! Up to now this war has brought us nothing but shame, misfortune, and ruin. The _Svietlana_ was told to bring the Russian mail from Mojanga. We received it at six o'clock. There is again a mix-up of addresses. Letters were addressed to the Electrotechnical Institute of the Emperor Alexander III. _January 29th._--A curious comedy has been enacted on shore by the Governor's wife and the wife of a merchant. The Governor's wife came to the other lady and accused her of spreading scandal, saying that the Governor had complained to Admiral Rojdestvensky that the Russian officers were getting drunk on shore. "My husband," said the Governor's wife, "did not go to the admiral; but your husband went to complain that the officers were behaving badly. I know why he did it. The officers did not get drunk, but they paid you attentions and you encouraged them. It is owing to you that the officers are not allowed on shore," etc. The ladies were thoroughly frightened. The merchant has now written to the flag-captain, stating this story and asking for "satisfaction," as he never complained, and, on the contrary, could not praise enough the behaviour of the officers. (I told you why their leave was stopped--it was owing to their gambling at cards.) It would be interesting to know how the flag-captain answered the merchant, and what the latter will do with the "satisfaction" if he gets it. Again it is a case of women. I wanted to seal a parcel, and remembered that they do not accept them with seals at the post-office, as sealing-wax melts from the heat. It is difficult to understand how the traders make a living here. They have opened several shops and raised the prices tremendously. They intrigue against each other and complain to the admiral. The _Esperanza_ bought up all the provisions at Mojanga, and has now gone for materials. What a quantity of money the ships have spent here! Truly Russia has enriched Nosi Be, Mojanga, and Diego Suarez. They have even ordered goods from France. _January 30th._--It is very hot to-day. It is long since there were heavy rains. Light rain does not cool the sides of the ship, which remain hot the whole twenty-four hours. Lunch to-day was interrupted by the funeral of a sailor of the _Borodino_. The torpedo-boat passed the _Suvaroff_ with his body. The man died in a very strange way. He was in the hospital-ship _Orel_. He was discharged from the sick-list, and was sitting waiting for the boat to take him back to the _Borodino_ when he fell down dead. Behind the torpedo-boat came a steamboat with the captain. He was accompanying his sailor to burial. The majority of officers have leave to go ashore to-day until 6 p.m. The watches of a good number are damaged, broken, or choked with dust. They have bought up all the watches in the place, and many of these are broken and cannot be mended. They have cleared everything out of Mojanga. At the bank they cannot even change a credit note for a few thousand francs. A good many people earn a living as money-changers. For a pound they sometimes give 24 francs 50 centimes, and sometimes 25 francs 40 centimes. Thus on a pound, which is less than ten roubles, you lose about 34 copecks (8_d._). The fleet is paid in pounds, and loses considerably. A German company here buys up all the pounds and gains large profits. The officers want to ask them to change the credit notes. This is how the Germans do business. They buy land and let it to ruined Frenchmen, compelling them to sell vanilla at a low price. They buy up leather, cocoa-nut oil, coffee, etc., and send it green to Europe, where it is sold at immense profit. They say that when the band played on shore to-day the local queen was present. She is of no importance, and has been left alone by the French, who are the real owners of the country. This queen behaves with dignity, and does not ask for money. A sailor in the _Oslyabya_ stole a box of church offerings. He was found out and arrested, and will probably be tried by special court. _January 31st._--I went ashore at 10 a.m. I went to a vanilla plantation, called at the church and at the school, which is kept by the Carmelite order. I am sitting in a restaurant with an officer. We are drinking lemonade with grenadines and ice in it. By twelve I shall be on board the _Suvaroff_, and at one attend a court of inquiry. At the plantation we had an argument with some Frenchmen because we had broken a branch of vanilla. The heat was so great that I drank plain water, which I never do on shore. It is extraordinary how spoilt the natives are. They followed us all the time, although we drove them off, and then demanded a tip. _February 4th._--There has been a dreadful storm. The lightning was blinding and the thunder absolutely deafening. Russian sign-boards are hung all over Nosi Be. Among them is the following: "Tremendous bargains! Come and buy." There is a dearth of stamps in the post-office. For a long time there have been no 25-centime stamps, and very few of any other kind. _February 5th._--The admiral has been unwell lately. He had neuralgia so badly yesterday that he even moaned. He did not sleep last night, and is now lying down. He does not listen to the doctor's advice. He did not come to morning tea or lunch. I had my hair cut and my beard trimmed. Do you know how this operation is performed? The flagship's barber Michael appears in dirty working clothes, with a box in which are a machine, an old brush, and a razor. You sit on a chair and cover yourself with a towel. Michael cuts. It is hot, and the perspiration drops from his face. Having finished, he puts up his implements, receives a copper, shakes out the towel, hangs it up, gathers up from the deck the fallen hairs, presses them into his fist, and departs. All this is done so simply. The admiral did not leave his cabin even for meals to-day. The doctors now say that he has rheumatism. Last night he cried out with pain. They wanted some ice for him. There was none in the _Suvaroff_, so an officer went to the other ships to find some. The confusion was great. _February 6th._--As the admiral is ill I did not get up for breakfast. Woke just before nine and went to sleep again until five o'clock. It was not very hot and stuffy. Usually it is impossible to sleep by day in a cabin. There was mass to-day. A Frenchman who has opened a shop on shore came to tell us about a Japanese spy. We do not believe him, and think he is making a report to advertise his wares. As a rule Frenchmen are great humbugs. The admiral recovered and came to dinner. Some of the officials at the post-office have learnt Russian words. They show off their knowledge by writing "Petersburg" on the receipts in Russian. We still remain here, and Nosi Be is getting quite Russianised. From the telegrams which the French torpedo-boat brought from Mojanga we learn that the Governor-General of Moscow has been killed, and that the third fleet left Libau on February 2nd. It will be a surprise if we are obliged to wait for the famous third fleet. It is very injurious for our ships, being kept in Nosi Be. Their underwater parts will be covered with barnacles and waterweeds (commonly known as beard). Owing to this ships steam considerably slower and require a greater expenditure of coal, etc. The barnacles and beard have to be cleaned off in dock, and there are none available in this part of the world. Cleaning the underwater parts with the help of divers is slow and unsatisfactory. How important it is may be seen from the fact that even merchant ships voyaging in southern and eastern waters go into dock to be cleaned at least once in six months. We shall arrive in the East with dirty ships, and the Japanese will meet us in clean ones. Our ships will have just made a long voyage, and theirs will come out of harbour. Another fine thing is that the Japanese will raise our ships sunk at Port Arthur, repair them, and oppose them to us under their old names. They will strengthen their fleet in this way, and what a disgrace it will be for Russia. Imagine the scene! Some _Poltava_ or _Retvizan_ will fire on the _Suvaroff_. It is too disgusting to think of! And who is it who has annihilated the fleet? The Japs--"Apes," as our gallant sailors call them! Such self-confidence, conceit, and contempt for the monkey Japs will cost Russia dearly. Here I go again, harping on the old tune. I had better stop, as it does not help. _February 7th._--I lunched in the battleship _Orel_. Had soup with rice--and caterpillars. A satisfying meal, was it not? The officers of the _Orel_ are convinced that for several evenings running they have seen a balloon on the horizon signalling with lights. One of the officers thought of ordering himself a pair of white trousers made out of a sheet, as material is not to be had. There is a consoling description of the _Cesarevitch's_ damages. Fifteen twelve-inch shells struck her (this is a tremendous number, and twelve-inch shells are the heaviest), and not one pierced her armour. Our battleships _Suvaroff_, _Borodino_, _Alexander_, and _Orel_ are better armoured than the _Cesarevitch_. If twelve-inch shells could not pierce her armour, smaller projectiles can do almost nothing--that is, if they hit protected parts. Some of the eye-witnesses in the _Rossia_ and _Gromoboi_ say that the first impressions of the battle were horrible. Everything was upside-down and broken to bits. You looked round and saw that nothing that was behind armour was touched, and no substantial damage done to the ship. All this is very nice, but an endless stay at Nosi Be deprives one of all energy. _February 8th._--I have been to the _Anadir_, _Kamchatka_, and to the shore. I went to the cemetery. The caretaker showed me the grave of a Japanese. I told him to put Popoff's grave in order, as it had fallen in. _February 9th._--A "tragic occurrence" took place in the _Suvaroff_ to-day. Some one had eaten a monkey. There remained only a bit of tail and a piece of skin. This is the work of either rats or dogs. I called at a torpedo-boat this morning. The captain and officer were sitting on deck drinking tea. Both were barefooted and in vests and white trousers. I cannot get accustomed to such a sight, somehow. The captain's left foot astonished me. It had only one toe. All the rest had been torn off long ago. The sight of it gave me a queer feeling. To-day there was a court-martial on an officer. In defence of another officer he had written a report in a very insolent manner to the captain. By order of the admiral the officer was dismissed from the _Ural_ in January, and now he is placed on the retired list by the general staff. I do not know how the trial will end. They say he is a very good fellow. The offence of which he is accused is very seriously punished--either by degradation to the rank of sailor or confinement in a fortress. _February 10th._--The court sentenced the officer to be dismissed the service and deprivation of rank. The sentence will go to the admiral for confirmation. The punishment imposed by the court is the lightest possible. It came out that there is much slackness in the _Ural_. The matter will hardly end here, as they say K---- is an obstinate man, and will raise it again in Petersburg. There has just been a storm in a tea-cup. Smoke appeared from a cabin. They manned the pumps and nearly rang the fire alarm. It was discovered that a white tunic lying in a basket had caught fire. They pulled out the basket, drew out the tunic, and the panic subsided. The meat at dinner to-day was bad. I ate a good deal before I discovered what was the matter. I am trying to find a tortoise on shore. If I find one, I shall keep its shell for combs and hairpins for you. From several sources news has been received that there are Japanese ships near Madagascar. The Japanese would hardly be so stupid as to split up their fleet. Things have come to such a pass in our ships that they are positively certain that the fleet will return to Russia on March 15th. They told me this in the _Nachimoff_, announcing this sensational news as the latest trustworthy information. I stayed a long time in the wardroom of the _Nachimoff_, talking to an engineer whom I had known at school. Four sailors of the torpedo-boat _Grosny_ (Menacing) broke into a hut and stole the contents. They were caught. There will be a trial, and they will be severely punished. Is it worth it? The damage is assessed by the negroes at sixty francs, all told. The men will be ruined for a mere trifle. The heat is dreadful! You "stew in your own juice," as they say here, and you drink without ceasing. It is a good thing that the refrigerator in the _Suvaroff_ is repaired and you can have ice. At the present moment I have a glass of iced water by me. It cannot be had by all. When the refrigerator was not working they obtained ice for the admiral from other ships. You cannot imagine the delight of drinking something cold, if you have not experienced such great heat. They make a good deal of ice artificially in the fleet, and on shore they trade in it. I have heard there are cigarettes in the _Tamboff_: I must go and get some. _February 12th._--Under cover of the French newspapers they are talking about the conclusion of peace. They begin to say that it must be concluded, come what may--even to paying a large indemnity. Has Russia really come to this? Is the war really lost? I cannot bear to think so! The disgrace was already bad enough, but what a shameful ending! Unhappy times! Everything is going badly, both at the war and in the interior of Russia. How will it all end? They say that in the _Tamboff_ cigarettes are being sold at fifteen roubles a hundred. It is very dear, but there is nothing to be done. I shall be glad if I can get some, even at that price. Several cases of champagne were brought to the _Suvaroff_ to-day. Some sailors managed to conceal one and hid it in the furnace of a boiler. They were caught. If the matter is officially dealt with, they will suffer severely. _February 14th._--I sent a telegram to you yesterday. There are many sailors who have not been on shore since we left Cronstadt. A large number were last on shore at Revel. A short time ago a sailor of the _Kamchatka_ took two lifebelts, jumped overboard at night, and struck out for the shore. He was seen by chance while swimming. The searchlight was turned on to him. "I was tired of being on board, could endure it no longer, and wanted to go on shore," he said in his defence. I quite understood the man's feelings. I am much astonished at many of the officers. They have not been on dry land since they left Revel, although they have had opportunities of leaving the ship. My spirits are depressed. Nothing is known as to when our wanderings will end. I am ready to do almost anything--even to leaving the fleet, which perhaps will not go to the East until the war is over. How I curse myself for having come! Do you know there are forty-two ships at Nosi Be under the Russian naval and merchant flags? A solid figure, but how many are only transports? How many officers and men, do you suppose? I fancy considerably more than 12,000. FOOTNOTE: [8] The Russian naval flag is white, with a blue St. Andrew's cross on it. CHAPTER VII EVENTS AT NOSI BE _February 15th._--I must without fail go on shore to-day after dinner to post my letters. I do not trust others. I saw a wedding of a mulatto and a Malagassy. A long procession of negroes went to the mayor's to sign the contract, and then went to the church, where the priest married them. I looked on at the ceremony. Both were young and dressed like Europeans, and had boots on. The bride wore a veil, white dress, etc. During the marriage service dogs ran about the church, but this did not disturb any one. Probably dogs are not considered unclean animals here.[9] Black boys served the priest. The priest himself was a European missionary. The whole church was full of black worshippers. Of course, there were many of our officers there as spectators. After the service the little Malagassy with his wife on his arm walked round among the guests collecting money. I gave them a franc. It seemed strange, seeing a Christian church full of blacks reverently fulfilling Christian rites. How dreadfully the men drink sometimes! Today I saw a sailor being carried on a stretcher, unconscious and shaking with spasms. It was a repulsive sight. They say the captain of the _Oleg_ is in poor health. If it is consumption, the result will be a sad one. If there is only the suspicion of it, in this climate the end comes quickly. The wardroom have made another acquisition. They have obtained a small crocodile from somewhere. The _Suvaroff_ is positively becoming a floating menagerie. We shall probably leave for the East at the end of the month. If that is the case, why is the third fleet sent? Every one acts as he thinks fit. There are no plans, forethought, or system. _February 16th._--There is anxiety about the fate of the _Irtish_. She was at Port Said on January 9th, and should have been here long ago. They have telegraphed asking about her. It is exactly two months to-day since we came to Madagascar. If we leave Nosi Be and go straight to the East, there will be a great break in my letters and telegrams. Do not be anxious. It is quite normal, as we have before us a voyage which, under favourable conditions, lasts twenty days. To-day I indulged myself and drank some kvass[10] in the _Aurora_. I stayed there some time. Many officers are sceptical, and do not believe that we shall go to the East. Wrangles are beginning. Two of the captains of torpedo-boats quarrelled as to where they were to lie for coaling. One of them was so much insulted that he went to the _Suvaroff_ in his torpedo-boat to complain. No sooner was this story done than another began. The flagship's torpedo officer, who had a number of monkeys, received an order to rid the ship of these animals (he had a cabin full of them). This order was brought out owing to a report from the senior staff-officer, in whose cabin one of the monkeys had been and made himself at home. They contradicted each other in the flag-captain's cabin, and the story promises to be played out. In the evening an officer of the _Suvaroff_ shouted out something to the _Oslyabya_, who did not notice a peace attack of torpedo-boats. In the _Oslyabya_ they are anxious to know the name of the officer. There will probably be a complaint to the staff to-morrow. _February 17th._--I do not know how the quarrel of the torpedo captains has ended. One of them came to the staff to-day with explanations. _February 19th._--I have bought myself about 2,000 cigarettes. They are without mouthpieces. The tobacco is black and the taste indifferent. If I cannot get Russian ones I must content myself with these. I had to go on board the _Borodino_ late this evening. It was not very pleasant. Frequently the challenge of the sentries in the ships which we have to pass is not heard, owing to the noise of the water and the steam. They fire instantly if the boat does not give the countersign. Some telegram from Europe was posted up at the post-office. The Governor ordered it to be taken down, so that Russian officers should not read it. Can it be another terrible misfortune? The telegrams that remained announced that the Japanese had cut off Vladivostok almost completely. There are hardly any war stores in Vladivostok. Four steamers were sent from there to Port Arthur while it was holding out, and all fell into the hands of the Japanese. They are taking the guns from Port Arthur and are fortifying the coast of Korea with them. Where can our fleet go if Vladivostok is cut off? Even if we succeed in getting there before it is captured, there are no stores there, and in the fleet there are few. We starving shall come to the famished. The fleet will then perish, as it did at Port Arthur. Do you know that the _Bogatyr_ sank while coming out of dock? They were able to place a floating dock under her. The Japanese have sent cruisers and torpedo-boats to Vladivostok. Matters are going badly for Kuropatkin. Have you heard that Japan and France have concluded the following agreement? Our fleet can remain at Nosi Be as long as it is convenient, but if it leaves even for only three days, then it shall not have the right to enter a French port for three months. Yes, it must be admitted the situation of Russia is desperate. There are many things I cannot tell you of on paper. They would not improve the general outlook. The _Esperanza_, which is lying at Mojanga, has prepared to come here four times, and each time her machinery has been damaged. Evidently her crew have done it purposely. I received your telegram to-day. In it is one word, "Well"; at all events, I know you are alive. Since the beginning of December our Admiralty has not sent us a single letter. I went to church to-day. It is the memorial day of those warriors who laid down their lives on the field of battle. At eleven o'clock I set out for the _Borodino_. I was induced to put on my dirk. I never wear it, but hung it on for this occasion. In going down the ladder I caught it on something. It came out, fell into the water, and sank in twelve fathoms. It is impossible to get it. An engineer in the _Borodino_ promised to make me a dummy handle. I shall wear it fastened to the scabbard, so that it will look all right. Of course, a proper dirk is not to be had here. There was a very grand and gay lunch in the _Borodino_. They decorated the wardroom, covered the deck with carpets, and arranged plants in every corner. They laid the table in the form of the letter [Greek: p] (p), placed flower-pots on them, and scattered flowers on the table-cloth. In front of each place was an illuminated menu. There were many guests. The band played. They are a very happy ship. They are always joking, laughing, and amusing themselves, and yet they never forget their duty. After lunch had been reduced to fragments, the wine flowed in streams. They stationed the band close to the wardroom. Several officers conducted the band themselves. They played my beloved Little Russian march. At first I drank nothing, but having eaten my fill, and sitting listening to the band and hearing the march, I began to drink champagne. Many were drinking it, and with each glass I remembered how you feared I should take to drink. Several officers began to dance. At six o'clock I returned to my ship. The mail-steamer _Esperanza_ has arrived. There were very few letters for the fleet. There was only one bag, and that was sent by Günsburg (agents). From the newspapers we learn what is going on in Russia, and the orders of our Ministry about killed and wounded, etc. I cannot speak calmly. My anger rises, and I am ready to do God knows what! How I curse myself for having come! _February 23rd._--At last the _Irtish_ has been found. She left Jibutil on the 17th, so will be here on the 27th or 28th. If only a mail could be brought by her, but our Ministry would never have thought that they could send letters to Jibutil up to the 17th. From there the _Irtish_ could have brought them to the fleet. Although there is little hope of this, I shall await her arrival with impatience. _February 24th._--I have just returned from the harbour. I am very much pleased with the work of the divers in the _Jemchug_; they have carried it out brilliantly. I was rather doubtful of success at first. I asked that a letter should be written to the admiral about the successful work of the officers and divers who took part in it. The captain promised to do so, and I for my part undertook to put in a few words. Some home-made kvass has made its appearance in the _Suvaroff_. I drink it incessantly. It is indifferent kvass, but at least it is Russian. A boy from the _Borodino_, whose name I do not remember, has just come to ask me to help him gain permission to be examined for the rank of petty officer. I am preparing myself to go ashore at three o'clock. I shall call at the post-office, walk through the streets, and freshen myself up. The shore at least is a change, however dull it may be. _February 26th._--The Malagassy are beginning to be impertinent in offering their services. Europeans do not stand on much ceremony with them. When they saw me with a parcel in my hands, a crowd rushed to the verandah of the shop. The European clerk grew angry, jumped up, and kicked them like dogs. It did not disconcert them in the least. At the post-office I was given telegrams and local letters for the fleet. Among the letters was a postcard for Admiral Rojdestvensky. On it the Germans were jeering at him about the North Sea affair, and advising him to return, "the more so as they have prepared vodky for you."[11] At three o'clock a wireless message was received from the _Irtish_. At eight she arrived in the harbour. There is scarcely a line in her. The cursed staff have not sent the mail by her, although they might easily have done so. The _Irtish_ was lying at Jibutil for nearly a month. How every one abused the staff! Can you wonder at it, when even the chief of the staff himself sends letters to his son by Günsburg. How can we fight Japan when they cannot arrange such a simple matter as sending the mails? We have not received a word from home for two and a half months, thanks to their negligence in not putting two and two together. If they cannot do this much that is absolutely necessary for the moral welfare of the personnel of the fleet, how are they to contend against an enterprising foe like Japan? Knowing their disposition, I little expected to receive anything by the _Irtish_; but others were certain that there would be a very large mail. Their disappointment is very great. The first officer of the _Irtish_ went mad, and was sent back to Russia from Suez. I hope to go on board her to-morrow, and must also go to the _Borodino_. _February 27th._--I counted on getting cigarettes in the _Irtish_, but there were none. They required them themselves. In many ships they have mass on the upper deck. I saw two such services to-day--in the _Oslyabya_ and the _Borodino_. I found my way to the latter and remained to lunch. They had pancakes, with smetana.[12] I conversed with the captain a long time, and returned to the _Suvaroff_ at two o'clock. A theatrical troupe has been got up on board the _Borodino_, consisting of ten sailors. They are frequently invited to other ships to give plays. How they are cursing the General Staff about the mail! In several ships they want to telegraph to the _Novoe Vremya_ that the officers request their relations and friends to send their letters through Günsburg's agency at Odessa. Some day I will tell you the part that Günsburg has played in the history of the war. Without him all would have been lost. He provided drink, food, and necessaries for the whole fleet. News has been received that Mukden has been taken by the Japanese, that the road on the flank of the army has been cut, that we have lost 50,000 killed and wounded and 50,000 prisoners. A fearful catastrophe! At the present condition of affairs the war may be considered lost. We must expect every minute to hear that Vladivostok is either besieged or taken. It is useless for the fleet to go on. Poor Russia, when will your trials be ended? One misfortune brings forth another. _February 28th._--It is creditably asserted that from Europe and America they are taking shells, ammunition, guns, armour, and provisions to Japan, and there are even steamers loaded with only milk. Large flotillas of transports are on their way thither. The Japanese navy and army are furnished in abundance with every necessary. Supplies are procured in an unbroken flow. Russia is a contrast to Japan. In Manchuria our troops are starving, cold--not clothed, and barefooted; guns and projectiles are scarce. And our fleet--it is ludicrous even to compare it with the Japanese! We are now lying waiting the arrival of Günsburg's steamer _Regina_, which should bring some provisions. One steamer! and our foe has ten! I am no prophet, but remember my words. In the middle of March Japan will be master of the island of Sagalien, and in April, if not sooner, will besiege Vladivostok, or effect a landing close by. Is it worth while sending our fleet to the East? Let us suppose Vladivostok holds out until our arrival, and that our fleet, after having engaged in battle with the Japanese, reaches it. What then? At Vladivostok there is little coal; there are no shells, powder, or guns; and how many shall we have left after the fight? Again, the Japanese ships after the fight would go to Sasebo, Nagasaki, and other ports; and, quickly repairing their damages, would be ready to fight again. What should we do? At Vladivostok there is only one dock. There are no good workshops, no materials, no workmen. It is quite enough to remember how long they took repairing the _Gromoboi_ and _Bogatyr_. Vladivostok will be a second Port Arthur. All this is supposing that Vladivostok can hold out, and that the result of the fight will be the same for us as for the Japanese. It must not be forgotten that we have to go into action with a crew wearied by a tremendous voyage, and that we have to defend our transports, etc. Perhaps the _Regina_ will bring us a mail. We expect her in a few days. I examined the places in the _Aurora_ that were struck by projectiles at the time of the North Sea incident. One of the projectiles turned at nearly a right angle during its destructive flight. The heat is considerable. How accurately I have calculated the time! I reckoned that on March 1st the fleet would be at Vladivostok. It appears that I was not far wrong. Had it not been for the misfortunes at Port Arthur and on land, we should, according to secret plans, have been approaching Vladivostok on March 1st. In the programme which I worked out in Russia I only made an error of a few days. In Japan they are hastily finishing the construction of a large cruiser. By the middle of March a large number of gunboats will be prepared, which can be made use of in the Amur river. I was specially sent for to the _Kamchatka_ about her rudder. I thought God knows what had happened, and it turned out to be a trifle. There was a great show in the wardroom in the evening. A rat hunt was organised, and many killed. It is a relaxation from care. For a long time they carried on a successful hunt, in which the ship's dogs took a part. _March 1st._--We might get a mail by the _Regina_, which arrives on the 5th. We have begun active preparations for a very long cruise. It will be very sad if we go without waiting for the mails. In any case, the fleet should wait for the _Regina_. It is impossible to move forward without the provisions which are coming in her. We are evidently not intended to wait for the third fleet. Why do they spend more money for nothing by sending it? If our fleet loses the battle, can the third fleet continue its voyage independently? Even if the battle is indecisive in its results, it is impossible for it to go to the East. A signal has been made for all ships to be ready to get up anchor in twenty-four hours. The _Regina_ has not come yet. The _Suvaroff_ was built in the Baltic shipyard. How often have I looked at her! Sometimes, even, with ill will. Perhaps I had then a presentiment that my fate would be closely bound up with hers. I will send my letters by a boat going ashore. I do not know if I shall be able to leave the ship myself. I feel much calmer when my letters are posted. I have made a new reckoning of time. I made out that we can be at Vladivostok in a month and a half after leaving here, if there are no delays on the way. That means that, if nothing happens, and the fleet leaves here soon, we shall see each other at the beginning of May. _March 2nd._--The _Regina_ is near. She has entered the harbour and will soon anchor. Possibly we shall weigh anchor to-morrow and go eastward. Do not be anxious that there will be no letters from me for a long time. Under favourable conditions the voyage to the East Indian Archipelago takes three weeks. The _Regina_ has brought part of the post. The other part, for some reason, was left at Port Said. A signal has been made for us to have steam ready by twelve noon, on March 3rd. I think we shall go from Nosi Be to Saigon. The voyage will be long and wearisome, whatever the weather may be. There is such hellish heat in my cabin that I am now sitting writing in the after-cabin. People are scribbling in every corner. I can imagine what it will be at the post-office to-morrow. We do not weigh anchor before noon. Before then it will be necessary to post the letters from all the ships of the fleet, and there are more than forty of them. I have finished all my necessary work in the ships in time. FOOTNOTES: [9] In Russia a church has to be re-consecrated after a dog has entered it. [10] A liquor made of rye flour and malt. [11] "They will give you a warm welcome." Vodky is a very strong spirit, drunk everywhere in Russia. [12] Smetana is sour cream. CHAPTER VIII ACROSS THE INDIAN OCEAN _March 3rd._--Leaving Nosi Be; in the Indian Ocean. To-day was full of events. This morning I went on shore to send my letters and help dispatch others. There was a large crowd at the post-office. All were hurrying to get rid of their letters by eleven, when there is a cessation of work there until two o'clock. At noon the order was given to be ready to get up anchor. Many people did not succeed in posting valuable packets, parcels, and registered letters. The latter they threw straight into the letter-box, which was instantly filled, and had constantly to be emptied. I was not looking, and the officer who was with me took my registered letters and put them in the box. I was at that moment putting on stamps for transmission abroad. I was annoyed. I went round the post-office into the back yard, and through a window to a room where they were receiving the letters. I induced a Malagassy to take all the letters out of the box and look for mine, which among the general heap came into my hands. I gave all the letters to a clerk, begging him to send them to Russia registered. I had no time to wait for a receipt. I had to hurry on board. I had the advantage of being known to the clerks--firstly because I had often had business with them, and secondly because I promised them medals and orders. Representations about this are already made. At the post-office they asked me questions like this: "Are you leaving to-day or to-morrow? Are you going straight to Russia from here?" By eleven o'clock I was on board. It was hard to imagine what was going on this morning on the quay. Everything was quite covered by goods and provisions. Carts with bullocks harnessed to them constantly brought loads. All were hastening with packages to the boats. They were hurriedly closing accounts with the shore. Lunch passed off quietly, but then came my benefit. Forgive me; I will tell you the rest to-morrow. I am so tired I can scarcely sit. I slept badly last night, and do not feel well. My servant even said, "Look here, your worship, sleep and rest. You have slept very little while at the anchorage, and worked hard." That is true. There has been plenty of work. I shall rest now, if nothing happens to the ships, which God forbid. Here we are, again on our way. The place where we are going is still kept secret. _March 4th._--I must finish my story of yesterday. Soon after lunch news was received from the _Kamchatka_ that her condenser did not work. She also reported that a Kingston valve had been torn out, that she was beginning to fill with water, and that they were putting a mat under. I thought they would send me to the _Kamchatka_ and keep me there for the whole voyage. I was sent for by the admiral. I went to the _Kamchatka_, and found horror and confusion reigning there. In the engine-room compartment the water was already breast-high. I managed to put it right somehow. It happened that the Kingston was not torn out, but the flap in the Kingston pipe was damaged. They shut the flap, not taking precautionary measures, and ejected it out of the pipe, and water came in through the opening formed. When the danger passed I returned to the _Suvaroff_. The admiral sent me to the _Kamchatka_, to remain until the work was finished. I went there in the duty steamboat. I sent it back and returned in a rowing-boat to the _Suvaroff_, where another surprise awaited me. They were unable to hoist the steamboat in the _Aurora_. The davits were damaged. I hastened there. In all the other ships the boats were already hoisted. I set out for the _Aurora_ in the admiral's light whaler, which is usually hoisted at the last moment. Every moment was valuable. We had to hurry. The men pulled with all their might. At all costs the _Aurora's_ steamboat had to be hoisted, otherwise it would have had to be left behind. The work was strenuous. They hammered, filed, and bound, rove the falls, and the boat was eventually hoisted. I was annoyed at having dirtied myself. You may imagine the need there was to hurry. All this business began at twelve o'clock, and it was necessary that the fleet should weigh anchor at three o'clock. Weigh anchor! and the _Kamchatka_ sinking and a steamboat not able to be hoisted! Besides this, there was a report from the _Kamchatka_ in the morning that there was a breakage in her steering arrangements. I took it on myself to say that she could go with such damages. Nevertheless, I was able to put everything to rights by half-past two. I breathed freely. The signal was hoisted, and we began to get up anchor. The starting of the fleet was a pretty sight. There were forty-two ships, if you count torpedo-boats and transports. French torpedo-boats came to escort the fleet. They wished us a prosperous voyage, and cheered. Our bands played the Marseillaise. Excitement reigns in the wardroom. Will it be for long? Am I pleased? I cannot understand my own feelings. On one hand I am anxious about the fate of the fleet; on the other, there is the possibility of seeing you soon, and the feeble, feeble hope of beating the Japanese fleet. If by any chance that should happen, Russia will have command of the sea, and the battle-scenes on land will be changed in our favour. If we are beaten--then Japan is strong, very strong. You know the steamer _Regina_ came to us. At the instance of Japan part of the provisions and supplies were unloaded from her at Port Said. How pleased you will be at this! It means that if Japan had wished it, the _Regina_ would not have come here at all. We only receive what Japan permits. See what strength this small country exhibits! It is all thanks to her success in the war. Just imagine the astonishment of Admiral Nebogatoff's fleet when they learn that we have gone on without waiting for them. In my opinion it is a rash step to divide your forces. It would not have taken much longer waiting for that fleet, as we have already waited two and a half months at Madagascar. A flag-officer of our staff has received some secret appointment. He remained at Nosi Be, and was advanced two and a half months' pay. When Lieutenant Radekin was at Diego Suarez the French told him the date of our departure from Nosi Be and of our further course. That was on February 24th. Radekin wrote down the prediction, sealed it, and gave it to me to be opened at sea. Just fancy, the date of our departure was given exactly! The course I cannot verify, as I do not know it myself. Yesterday, when it grew dark, the ships lit their lights. The sky was brilliant with flashing stars. Forty-five ships! What a grand armada! How difficult it is to direct its movements, and what an enormous extent it occupies! The admiral only left the bridge at nine o'clock. We were then exceedingly hungry, and sat down to dinner. Last evening delays began immediately. The battleship _Orel_ reported that some of her machinery was broken. The fleet lessened speed, and the _Orel_ steamed with one engine. Something then went wrong with the _Anadir's_ machinery. We waited a whole hour while she put it right. To-day all are going successfully. I have noticed that for some reason the tale of damages usually begins at night. To-day it is gloomy. The sun is not visible. The sea is rather rough. God forbid that we should have bad weather, especially during the first nine days. All the ships are heavily encumbered with coal. There is not a spot on deck free of coal. This has a bad effect on the sea-going qualities of ships. I lay down to rest, but could not sleep owing to the heat. I forget if I told you I sleep completely uncovered, and keep a small piece of cardboard by me and use it as a fan. Some one has made a bag out of two nets, and is catching fish from the stern gallery. The weather is calm, and a great many fish swim after the ship. Nearly alongside the _Suvaroff_ is the torpedo-boat _Biedovy_.[13] Life in the torpedo-boat is passed on deck. From the ship we can see how they dine and all that is going on. Yesterday a sailor from the _Kieff_ flung himself into the sea and was drowned. What was his mental condition? Was he afraid that he would be killed. How strange it is! But I have heard that there are instances when men, fearing to be killed in action, put an end to themselves. Probably the fear of death acts so strongly on these men that they are not themselves. An hour ago a sailor in a fever threw himself overboard from the _Jemchug_. They lowered two whalers and a gig to pick him up, and threw him a life-belt; but he fortunately swam to the hospital-ship _Orel_ and climbed on board. Now he is remaining in her. _March 5th_ (morning).--Last evening something went wrong with the machinery of the transport _Vladimir_. We waited while it was repaired. On the whole we are going very slowly. This morning all the torpedo-boats but one (the duty boat) were taken in tow. This was in order that they should not expend coal, which is very difficult to supply in mid-ocean even when it is comparatively calm. In slightly rough weather it is useless even to think of coaling. Last evening a German steamer from Diego Suarez, as she explained on being asked, overtook and passed us. This is rather suspicious. Why must she go on the same course as we are going? The route for the fleet was purposely chosen, being one along which no one ever goes. Yesterday the _Navarin_ fired to try the carriage of newly placed guns. The sound of the firing reached the _Suvaroff_. This, I thought, is how I shall hear the firing when we meet the Japanese. The sounds are not very loud. Our shots, no doubt, will make more noise. Slowly, very slowly, we are going ahead. Now and then the fleet stops, and goes on again with a speed of five to eight knots. There are varieties of mishaps, breakages in the _Sissoi_, and in the torpedo-boats _Grosny_ and _Gromky_. The slightest damage delays all. Do you know to what distance our ships extend, going in several divisions? Nearly ten versts. If we go on at the same speed we shall expend a great deal of time before reaching any port. We are going north-east, and are again approaching the equator. The ship scouting reported that she saw a light far away. Perhaps a "chance" vessel, like the one yesterday. In a good cruiser the Japanese might watch every step of our fleet without being perceived by us. We are steaming with lights. What is to prevent a fast cruiser, without lights, from approaching us, ascertaining our position, and disappearing--and no one will ever suspect such observation. If the Japanese do not do that now, it is almost certain that they will watch our fleet when approaching the islands of the East Indian archipelago, in order that, having chosen a favourable time, they may attack, if not the warships, at all events the transports. It is very difficult to defend the latter. What is Nebogatoff's fleet doing now? Will they really continue their voyage to the East? It will be a great risk. _March 6th_ (morning).--In the night we remained three hours at one spot. Something was amiss with the steering engine of the _Borodino_. She has not yet put it right, and so is going on the flanks of the rest. A steamer is coming towards us. The light which the scouting cruiser saw yesterday, and which she took for a ship, proved to be a star. They say you can often make the mistake, seeing a star setting on the horizon. I saw one like it. Sometimes there is a completely deceptive appearance of a ship's light. It is related that on one occasion, during the last war with Turkey, a whole fleet (in the Black Sea) chased a star. No doubt the mistake was soon found out. During the cruise life on board passes very monotonously. There are no events except breakages. All are tired of one another. They converse little and about nothing, and sit in different corners. I have not been much in the wardroom lately. I do not play games or the pianola. I sit mostly in the deck-house, on the bridge, or in the flag-captain's cabin. There was mass to-day. The weather has become a little rougher. We are going desperately slowly, so shall not reach a port soon. We have to cross a whole ocean. Another pleasure is in store for the fleet--coaling in the open sea. _Night._--The whole port side of the spar-deck is occupied by oxen and cows. The oxen for meat and the cows for milk, only unfortunately the latter do not give any. There are two calves. It is decided to feed them. They will probably die. In the transports special stalls have been made for the animals, so that they can endure the motion. There are none of these stalls in the battleships, and the oxen have to stand on deck. _March 7th_ (morning).--Our voyage is continued to the Chagos Islands, past the chief island, Diego Garcia. There were rumours that Japanese ships were lying at the Chagos archipelago, which belongs to England. The rumour may be true. Perhaps there will be a collision near these islands. The Chagos archipelago consists of small, thinly populated islands. There is no telegraph cable joining it to the mainland. There is an artificer in the _Suvaroff_ called Krimmer. He is a very trustworthy man. I once offered to exchange letters in the event of the death of one of us. To-day he handed me an envelope with the following superscription: "In the event of my death I beg you to send the enclosed letter to its address, and also to dispatch the things I leave behind. G. Krimmer, 2/3/1905. In the _Kniaz Suvaroff_." I have not prepared my letter yet. And what can I say in it? I have no secrets from you. You know everything and what I might say to you in my last moments. The route we are following now is little frequented by ships. Never since the creation of the world have battleships, small cruisers, torpedo-boats, or a fleet at all similar to ours gone along this route. What sort of ship is there not with us? Battleships, cruisers, torpedo-boats, transports, a repair ship, hospital-ship, a water-carrier, and a tug. Again the fleet has stopped. The tow-rope of one of the torpedo-boats has broken. We are going slowly. To-day at noon we have done 675 miles, in all about 1,180 versts, and we have to do 7,000 versts in order to reach the East Indian archipelago. At 4 a.m. to-morrow all warships are to coal from the transports which are with us. _March 8th._--I have been unable to write since this morning. In the first place, I was going from ship to ship; then there was such an infernal heat in my cabin that it was useless to think of writing. It is a little fresher now, 27° R. In the night the tiller rope carried away in the _Suvaroff_; the confusion was considerable, but I escaped it. I was called early this morning, at seven o'clock. All the fleet had stopped and begun to take coal from the boats, which were loaded from the transports. At first the weather was calm, although there was a fairly large swell. The _Aurora's_ steamboat disturbed me. They had hoisted it in, but I had not seen how they secured it. I wanted to see it myself. The _Roland_ went about with various orders for ships that were far from the _Suvaroff_. I decided to go in her to the _Aurora_. I went in the admiral's whaler and began to curse myself. Getting out of the whaler was very dangerous and difficult. The _Roland_ had to deliver packets with orders to ten ships, and by eleven o'clock she had just been to six. The ships lay far off, and much time was spent in sending boats with the packets. At twelve o'clock I returned to the _Suvaroff_ from the _Roland_ in the whaler again. Could you have believed that I should ever be pulled across the ocean in a tiny cockleshell? The swell is an extraordinary thing. It looks quite calm from a ship, but in reality it is far from being so. I drank a cup of coffee in the _Roland_. At first she rolled lightly, but afterwards to such an extent that the plates fell from the table. When we came near the different ships they looked at us with curiosity, expected something, and asked the news, as if we were not in the same fleet. They were given the packets, and their disappointment was fearful. I was late for lunch and ate in my cabin. When I entered it from the fresh air, it seemed like a stove. The heat was intolerable. I drank water with ice in it. A piece was left. With the greatest delight I rubbed my head and neck with it. I often do this now. The ice melts instantly. I went to the after-cabin; landed myself there on a sofa to doze a little, but it was not to be. I had begun to sleep when an orderly came and said the admiral required me. The torpedo-boat _Buistry_ had dented her side slightly, broken a boat, etc. When I had finished with her I again went to the sofa in the after-cabin. The coaling will soon be stopped. The ships are moving their engines, and we shall proceed! It will be difficult in the swell to hoist steam and other boats on board. The weather was indifferent; but contrary to expectation, the coaling was fairly successful. Perhaps they will begin it again to-morrow morning. The fleet does not anchor, but only lies with engines stopped. The wind and sea continually bring ships towards each other. Up to now, thank God! everything was all right, with the exception of the _Buistry_. She ought not to have been brought. She broke up at Revel, knocked her side in at the Skaw, and now she has collided with a transport. We went on again twenty minutes ago. Dinner was late again. I have not been invited to the dining-room. A curious impression is produced by the boxes or barrels fastened to the masts of the cruisers for the look-out men. Some of the cruisers have fastened cages, like boxes, and others have simply suspended barrels. In these boxes and barrels signalmen stand and watch the horizon. They are hung up very high. Without them sailors might easily fall from the mast. Only the heads and shoulders of the signalmen are visible now. A monotonous journey again stretches before us. Do you know how the officers in the wardroom amuse themselves all the evening? They make the dog listen to the gramaphone. Several pieces did not please her, and she began to howl. This employment seemed very funny to many. The gramaphone was purposely placed on deck, and the trumpet directed straight at the dog. Nights of alarm have again begun. They suspect the near presence of Japanese cruisers, which have a base in the English Seychelles Islands, by which we are now passing. At the wireless telegraph office they are receiving strange dispatches. There are more grounds for caution now than there ever were before. No doubt as the fleet moves forward the chances of a meeting with the enemy increase. All day I felt fairly well, but towards the evening a strange depression came over me. Anxiety wrings my heart. I have lost all interest in everything. They say that the Japanese are near. What then? It is all the same to me. I often pass through bad moments. One grieves, rages, censures, criticises, and condemns everything. Our army is acting independently, and the fleet does not combine with the movements of the army. The self-same fleet is split into little pieces, which do not act in conformity with the movements of the others. Three (or now, perhaps, two) ships are doing something, or more probably are lying at Vladivostok. Our fleet is moving east, and the third remains behind somewhere (where we do not know); and they are collecting some remnants at Cronstadt and Libau. All these parts do not know what the others are doing. Can there be success under these conditions? I think that there are many disorders in the army. There is no method or organisation anywhere. Among our enemies all is worked out, foreseen, and guessed beforehand. They conduct war on a scientific programme. Is success likely to be on our side? No. Of course, anything might happen. We might win, but it would only be by chance. With us it is the old system called "Perhaps," and the old game of trusting to luck. Everything is done anyhow. Not without reason some one remarked that the "apes were righting the anyhows." To do him justice, it would be difficult to say a worse or a truer thing. The _Oleg_ is steaming astern, and other cruisers are ahead and abeam of the fleet. All the battleships, torpedo-boats, and transports occupy the centre. _March 9th_ (8 a.m.).--Six times to-day the tow-ropes of torpedo-boats have carried away. This is rather often. The _Dimitry Donskoi_ reports that at night she saw lights of three ships, which were communicating with searchlight flashes, and were going the same course as ourselves. Another sailor has died in the _Oslyabya_. He will be buried at sea. He died the day before yesterday, but the coaling prevented his body being committed to the deep yesterday. There are frequent deaths in the _Oslyabya_, and most of them occur when the fleet is under way. The admiral always had weak nerves, and now especially so. He sleeps very little, is worried, and gets beside himself at every trifle. Probably he will not hold out to the end. 11 p.m.--We are going desperately slowly. So far we have made a thousand miles. If we go by one course there will be 2,800 miles left, and by another 2,500. This means we have to toss on the sea for fifteen or twenty days, if nothing happens. At every step there are breakages and damages. This evening the _Sissoi_ damaged first her rudder and then her machinery. The tow-ropes of the torpedo-boats break like threads. The _Buistry_ has again distinguished herself. She has broken a gun-platform. Soon there will be nothing to break in her. In the wardroom they reckon that we have 4,400 miles to do in thirty-four days. Our provisions are finished, and we shall have to take to salt provisions (horrid filth). They make jokes, selecting which of the officers shall be eaten first. To-morrow it is proposed to coal. It will be difficult to do so if the swell is as great as it was to-day. Again we shall lose a whole day. Coaling in our present condition is a very important thing, though troublesome. The whole deck is encumbered with coal, and even part of the guns. _March 10th._--At nine the torpedo-boat _Gromky_ reported that her rudder was damaged. The divers had to work under water, and there were many sharks. While they were at work men with loaded rifles stood ready to defend them. They were clearly visible, as the water is very transparent. 9 p.m.--From a chance word I gathered that in fifteen days we shall be at some port. I doubt it. By my reckoning we shall toss at sea much longer. Slowly, very slowly, we go on. Stoppages are constant. I am so accustomed to them that I take very little interest in knowing the reason, and am too lazy to go on deck and find out. _March 11th._--The _Svietlana_ reports that she sees a steamer ahead on the same course as ourselves. It is strange that we are going slowly along an unfrequented route and yet we can catch up a steamer. Even freight-steamers do not go as slowly as our ships. _March 12th._--The _Oleg_ and _Donskoi_ report that they see some lights far away. They are watching them. Perhaps they are English cruisers. The steamer which the _Svietlana_ saw was apparently a myth. A boiler in the _Kamchatka_ is damaged, but she does not remain behind. She began to drop, but when she knew about the suspicious light she prepared to come on. We are approaching nearer and nearer to the East. We shall soon recross the equator. Vladivostok seems like the promised land. Yes; Vladivostok, Vladivostok! But what if my supposition about Sagalien and Vladivostok are justified? Where will our fleet go then, and what will it do? The next time we stop to coal I shall have to pass the whole day on board the _Gromky_. They have stopped breaking the tow-ropes in the torpedo-boats. At all events, they have not broken one for some time. The _Sissoi_ is keeping back the fleet. There is always something wrong with her. This morning the _Nachimoff_ joined her. The _Oleg_ reports that the lights she saw yesterday were not constant. They looked like sparks flying out of funnels. Perhaps our fleet is following in the wake of some other ships. By day they hide themselves beyond the horizon, so we do not see them; and by night they approach us, having all lights out. The sparks betray their presence. At night, when there is no moon, it is absolutely dark and very difficult to see. Our fleet is steaming with lights visible from afar; therefore it is easy for ships knowing our course to find the fleet in the ocean and to approach it without danger. We may expect any moment to be attacked at night. I cannot without horror imagine one thing--that is, that they will compel us to lie an endless number of days in some Saigon. Then what will happen? I calm myself with the thought that they will not allow this, observing neutrality. Neutrality is a fine word. It is good and convenient only for the strong. Strength is now on Japan's side, and neutrality serves her interests and is useful to her. They say that the admiral declared that if he met a Japanese ship in neutral waters he would destroy her, remembering the capture of the _Reshitelny_ (Decisive) by the Japanese. There is neutrality for you! I did not myself hear Rojdestvensky say this--but knowing his character, think him quite capable of it. However, this will not happen. The Japanese are wily. They will not separate their ships, as Russia has done. God forbid that Japan beats our fleet! The might of Russia will perish with it for ten years. The fleet will not be reconstructed for long. But if we beat the Japanese at sea and get command of it, then Japan is ruined. She will be unable to carry on war, and will not be able to feed and provide the army. In Japan itself there will be nothing to eat. It can scarcely happen so. Even if the mastery of the sea remains with us, England and America will defend Japan, and Russia will retire, fearing war with these two countries. The war is bound to end to Russia's disadvantage. How much money she has wasted! How many men have perished!--and for what? Shame! Shame! We wallow in shame! How we jeered at the English during their war with the Boers, at the Italians during their Abyssinian campaign! I do not know what is going on in Manchuria, but judging by the time that passed between the battles of Liao-Yang and Mukden the next great fight will take place in August or September,--in the event of the Japanese not moving beyond Mukden and acting as they have hitherto done--that is, very carefully. By August or September Russia might collect an army. Where is now the supply depot of our land forces? In Harbin? It may be that they will have to leave it and retire again. Yesterday I heard a quarrel among the sub-lieutenants about how many stokeholds there were in the _Suvaroff_, and how the boilers were placed. Officers who had been in the ship a year, and who had, by order of the admiral, kept watch in the stokehold, were quarrelling over these things. How sad it was, and yet I could not listen to them without laughing! The Japanese doubtless know our ships better than we do ourselves. Do you remember what I said before the departure of the fleet? From the very beginning of the voyage I have seen so many instances confirming my former opinions. I do not believe in the fleet, however many ships are in it, and however much they count on them. It is a small matter to possess warships. It is necessary to profit by their strength. Possibly the Japanese fleet might be beaten, but it would only be by chance. _March 13th._--To-day is Sunday. There will be mass. I must go to church--the service is just beginning. I have not been at all well. I slept a great deal to-day, and was punished for it. I slept in my bunk, leaving my port open. There was a fairly heavy sea. The water splashed in and poured over my feet. I took off my boots and went to sleep again in wet clothes. I woke from a second douche. A third time I was splashed over. I rose, and began to change my socks and boots. I sat at the writing-table. Another wave poured in, and literally wetted me from head to foot. Everything on the table was drenched. I had to shut the port. Now it is so stuffy in my cabin and the air is so steamy that I cannot breathe. I am writing in the deck cabin. The weather is getting more and more rough. Perhaps it is for the best--it will be more difficult for the enemy to attack us. By the morning we should be at Diego Garcia (one of the islands of the Chagos Archipelago), where the presence of Japanese ships is suspected. In any case, I must be prepared to go to-morrow morning to the _Gromky_, although the weather is such that it will be difficult to coal. We are going slowly. It is a good thing that a favourable current is helping us on. During the last twenty-four hours it has advanced us about fifty versts. This evening all searchlights were lit up until the moon rose. _March 14th_ (morning).--What a night it was!--so stuffy and hot that when I woke not only were the sheets and pillows wet, but the mat as well. We had just done half the voyage between Madagascar and the East Indian Archipelago. We may count not only on torpedo-attacks and ground mines, but also on a fleet action. Our voyage to Vladivostok will be very dangerous. We have to pass through straits and narrow seas. All sorts of meetings and surprises are possible. They will follow every movement of our ships, choosing a favourable time to deliver battle or make a torpedo-boat attack. Some one conceived the fancy that when the whole fleet coaled in the open sea, and lay with engines stopped, a Russian town had sprung up in the middle of the ocean, with a population of 12,000 people. If I reach Vladivostok, a distance which can be passed over in fourteen or fifteen days will separate you from me. How microscopic it will seem in comparison with what we have already passed! It will seem quite close to me. If there are no delays anywhere, then by the middle of April the fleet will reach Vladivostok. But what is the use of guessing and calculating?--a thousand things may yet happen. It is unfortunate that in the East Indian archipelago there are so many straits which are long and narrow. There are some which cannot be passed through in a day, and have to be traversed at night. They might be mined. On entering or leaving them when the fleet is spread out, torpedo attacks might be made. We may expect surprises from torpedo-boats and from the shores. It is impossible to pass through a strait unperceived. I have just hit on the idea that we may possibly go to Saigon. On the way to Saigon a collison will infallibly take place. It may have sad consequences for me as well as for the others. Perhaps I shall not be able to send letters. Let us suppose we get to Saigon. The _Diana_ is lying there. She is officially disarmed. What is to prevent her joining our fleet? Instead of the _Diana_ a ship like the _Almez_ might be left. That would be excellent. It would be better if we were joined by the _Cesarevitch_, _Askold_, and torpedo-boats. It is difficult to count on this. All the ships are disarmed in neutral ports. It is a pity we have to pass through the straits in dark, moonless nights. _March 15th._--I was called at 5 a.m. in order to go on board the _Gromky_. Divers arrived and the work began. The work is greatly hampered by the swell. The divers are constantly struck by the rudder. I am astonished at the dog's life they lead on board the torpedo-boats. Whilst steaming, the vibration is so great that it is impossible to write. They roll so much that nothing remains on the tables without fiddles (frames which support tumblers, plates, etc.). The accommodation is cramped, and it is dirty and sooty. In addition to all this the fare is disgusting. I remained in the _Gromky_ until eleven o'clock. It was time to eat, but they did not think of laying a table. They brought the crew their stchee,[14] and my appetite left me. There were only four sausages for the officers. Some officers from the _Kamchatka_, which was lying close by, were in the _Gromky_. They requested by semaphore that preserves, lemonade, etc., might be sent from her. I was so hungry that I did not hesitate to insist on their bringing sardines, ham, bacon, etc. When they arrived we all threw ourselves on these delicacies with avidity. They purposely brought more than sufficient, in order to leave the surplus for the officers of the torpedo-boat. The latter astonished me. They look upon a lack of food as inevitable. The _Irtish_ should supply them with provisions, but she fulfilled the duty badly. The captain asked that his torpedo-boat should be attached to another transport. I supported the captain's request to the utmost of my ability, and depicted in vivid colours their famished condition. Life on board a torpedo-boat is sufficiently penal, but in this one they starve as well. For the future the _Gromky_ will be attached to the _Kieff_. While I was in the _Gromky_ a heavy squall went by on the beam. It was lucky it did not catch the torpedo-boat. Several times sharks gathered near the divers, but they saw them in time and drove them away with rifle-shots. You suddenly see a large, grey, shapeless thing appearing. It is an ugly and repulsive-looking shark. In the _Gromky_ I saw friend Grishka, "the Iconoclast." This monkey has grown a great deal, and is very amusing. I think I told you about Grishka. He is the monkey who was the cause of a scandal in the _Suvaroff_, and was given to another ship. He received the nickname of the "Iconoclast," because he once stole an ikon out of the cabin and threw it overboard. _March 16th_ (evening).--Early this morning I again went to the _Gromky_. I got there with difficulty. The swell tossed the torpedo-boat all day. Heavy rain-squalls constantly flew by. The boat rolled more than 25°. Everything fell about. To sit you had to press hands and feet against something. How many times I was literally wet to the skin to-day, and got dry again, it is difficult to say. Under these conditions the divers had to work. The waves now tore them from the boat, now beat them against her, now retreating, showing the diver's heads, now hiding them somewhere in the abyss. They were rocked about under the water, and were seasick with all its consequences when in diving clothes. They had to be drawn up, as they were so faint. The work was desperately difficult. I was astonished that they went into the water again without refusing. Picture to yourself the scene. All this was being done in a torpedo-boat in the midst of the ocean. The boat had been carried away from the fleet by the swell; we could even no longer see it. The diving-boat lay alongside the torpedo-boat. In addition to this they were coaling at the same time. It was a regular hell. The work went on very slowly. In order to review the results of my work I sat on an outrigger (I have already told you what this is) like a bird on a twig. When rolling, the water now covered my head, now lifted me high. It was horrible, abominable, foul. It was a good thing there were no sharks. At last, amid the chaos of waves and foam, I had to go to the _Suvaroff_ in a whaler. I seized hold of a chain, pressed my feet against the side, and climbed on deck. I was wet, dirty, and could scarcely stand from fatigue. And what welcome awaited me? A reprimand from the admiral, with a cry of "Shameful! you serve on the staff, and cover yourself with filth. You return at five o'clock, instead of three." This is my reward! Never, never shall I forget it! True, it is my first reprimand during the seven months. What could I do? They did not send a torpedo-boat for me, as they always had done. Nor was the _Gromky_ at fault. She brought me as soon as ever she could. When the work was done she had to take the divers to the _Svietlana_, _Kamchatka_, and _Jemchug_. I was only guilty in that I was not guilty at all. Having reached my cabin, I changed my clothes, and instantly fell into a dead sleep. There was nothing to eat in the _Gromky_, and she could not receive anything from the transport. They sent a present of a basket of provisions and a live pig from the _Svietlana_. How pleased the officers were! _March 17th_ (morning).--Since last evening we have been going along the equator. We are a little to the north. How strange it seems at first! Yesterday we were in the southern half of the globe, where it was autumn; to-day we are in the northern half, where it is spring. We have missed a whole winter. There is news that the _Varyag_ has been raised by the Japanese. Possibly they have already been able to repair her, and we may meet her among the hostile ships. A pleasant encounter! Our ships will fight against us. What a disgrace! The _Donskoi_ reports that she sees occasional lights out of funnels on the horizon. That they are following us is beyond doubt. We shall go by the straits of Malacca, the length of which is about 1,000 versts. There will be surprises on going through it, and on leaving it we may count on meeting the whole of Togo's fleet. Probably among the Japanese ships will be those the Russians were unable to sink properly at Port Arthur. I have no confidence in success. If I were in the place of the Japanese I should let the whole fleet pass without hindrance to Vladivostok, not risking my own ships in battle. It would be so easy to make a second Port Arthur out of it. A siege can be more easily undertaken there (if they have not already done so). The fortress is worse; there are less stores, workshops, and docks. Every advantage is on Japan's side. Her success is almost sure. _March 18th_ (morning).--The weather is worse. The barometer is falling. The wind gets stronger and stronger; it has attained the force of a gale. The _Suvaroff_ inclined three degrees to the wind, and has remained in that position. My heart beats when I think of the torpedo-boats. They are being towed. I am very anxious about them. It will be dark soon. How are they faring now? They are not visible from the _Suvaroff_. The wind has gone down, but the sea is still big. The _Bodry_, one of the torpedo-boats, has her mast broken. The _Gromky_ broke her tow-rope, and is going independently. During the last coaling a steam-cutter from the _Sissoi_ was sunk. All the crew were saved. The boat incautiously approached the side of a battleship, which rolled and sank her. In the _Terek_ yesterday a sailor fell into the hold, and died to-day. _March 19th_ (morning).--Probably the whole world thought the fleet would go from Nosi Be to the East, round Australia or the straits of Sunda. It is proposed to go, as I have said, by the straits of Malacca. Every one will be astonished at our effrontery. In a day or so we shall enter on a route where there are many merchant steamers. This means that in a short time all the world will know the whereabouts of our fleet and the route chosen. At a favourable spot the Japanese may meet us. The impending battle will be one of the most momentous of the war. Important events will soon now begin to take place. A new phase of the war which has been so unsuccessful and unfortunate for us is beginning. We are not going to Saigon, but to Kamranh. It is a small bay, lying about 350 versts north of Saigon. On shore there is a fort and a small settlement. There is no telegraph, but apparently there is a post-office. The fleet will pass in view of Singapore. Many officers have begun to hide their things behind the armour, in order to be able to dress themselves after the battle. I do not know whether to hide anything. We have begun to feel the proximity of the enemy. I have not yet selected the place where I shall be during the fight. Of course, during torpedo attacks one should be on deck, so that, should the ship be blown up and begin to sink, one would not have to come up from below. A ship in this event may go down almost instantaneously, like the _Petropavlosk_ and the _Hatsuse_. _March 20th_ (morning).--Coaling has not taken place to-day. Many officers confidently rely on the fleet. They look on the four new battleships, _Suvaroff_, _Borodino_, _Alexander_, and _Orel_, as invincible. The Japanese will put forth all their power to destroy the _Suvaroff_, in which is the admiral commanding the whole fleet. The torpedo attacks and the fire of all guns will be concentrated on the _Suvaroff_. She will be exposed to the greatest danger. It will be less dangerous in the other ships, especially in the _Borodino_ and _Orel_. The Japanese will try to kill the admiral. And what will happen then? Our ships can scarcely fly to various neutral ports and be disarmed, as has been done before. We have been eighteen days at sea, and our port is still far away; but with each turn of the screw we are nearer and nearer our goal. It is five and a half months to-day since the fleet left Libau. Scarcely any one would have supposed that nearly six months would be necessary to get as far as the straits of Malacca. The _Donskoi_, _Oleg_, _Orel_, and _Terek_ report that they have seen lights. Hitherto the appearance of every light interested us; but now that we are near the theatre of war we regard them with complete equanimity. Is it not all the same? Would that it were sooner ended! There are people who are satisfied with the existing state of affairs. I am surprised at them. Just now there are officers sitting at table drunk--they are singing. Nothing like it is possible in the Japanese ships. There, they are preparing for another feast and for other songs. When shall we get our letters? Hardly before we reach Kamranh Bay. _March 21st._--There still remains 3,000 versts to Kamranh Bay. They say that Japanese cruisers are waiting for us there. It will be ten or twelve days' journey if nothing happens. From there to Vladivostok I think we shall go at greater speed than now, to get over 5,000 versts. They are coaling to-day. I went to the _Bezuprechny_ and _Gromky_ and distributed confidential packets to the ships. Of course, I did not go to the general lunch. I lunched instead with the officer of the watch. A curious thing happened in the _Bezuprechny_. They drew a small shark out of the Kingstons. It was drawn in by the current. The ships are now forming in battle order. Probably lunch will be late. To-morrow is the new moon. It will give little light at night. It is a pity that we shall have to pass through the straits of Malacca on a dark night, when we may expect the Japanese to destroy our ships in the narrows. _March 22nd._--Although I did not feel tired yesterday, I lay down and slept till the waves splashed in through the port and woke me. Three sailors were scalded by steam in the _Oslyabya_; it is not yet known if they are seriously hurt. I have discovered the reason of my sleepiness yesterday. I began to smoke new French cigarettes. They had opium in them. It is a pity I have only a hundred cigarettes left. They are very dear now. I must smoke others, and keep those with opium in reserve. The torpedo-boat _Buiny_ has damaged her forward torpedo-tube by striking the _Vladimir_. Now it will not work. The fleet will pass through the straits of Malacca in four columns. All the transports will be in the middle, the battleships on the extreme right, and the cruisers on the extreme left. It is curious. You would expect us to be alarmed. We are almost on the eve of meeting with the enemy's fleet, with his mines, submarine boats, and torpedo-boats, and yet I am quite calm, even happy. The prospect of being at Vladivostok in a month's time is so exhilarating. I daily look at the chart with feverish interest, where the course already run is shown, and I count the remaining miles to Vladivostok. Are they despairing in Russia and not counting on Vladivostok being able to hold out? If on our arrival at Kamranh we learn that it has fallen, we should then have no base. What could we do then? We should have to occupy one of the Japanese islands and make it our base--but that would be bad for the supply of warlike provisions, ammunition, correspondence, and telegrams. They would not allow a base to be made at a neutral port. There is a report that the Japanese have made themselves at home in the islands of the Natuna Archipelago, which nominally belong to Holland. These islands lie on our course higher up, north of the strait of Singapore, which is a continuation of Malacca. How quickly rats swim! Two were thrown overboard to-day. They chased the ship and climbed up, although the speed was nearly seven knots. Up to the present the newspapers have not known where the fleet is to be found. To-morrow we shall pass by the lighthouse of Pulo Way. From there the ends of the earth will be informed by telegrams. Strange lights have appeared. Our fleet has been ordered to put out superfluous lights. Ports are covered with dead lights. We may expect an attack to-night. At last our wartime has begun. How many restless nights are before us? How will it all end? FOOTNOTES: [13] This is the torpedo-boat which took the admiral and his staff when the _Suvaroff_ sank in the battle of Tsushima. [14] Cabbage soup. CHAPTER IX THROUGH THE STRAITS OF MALACCA _March 23rd_ (morning).--Yesterday the following message was received from the captain of the _Terek_: "The crew will not disperse after prayers, and demand that the first lieutenant should be changed. The latter requests to be taken off the ship's books. I consider the crew in the wrong." What? A mutiny? The last sentence is specially characteristic. The fleet has increased speed. We are entering the straits of Malacca, and have said good-bye to the Indian Ocean. Two oceans successfully passed! What will the third bring us? The island of Pulo Way is close, but not yet visible. During the day the shores of a small island were to be seen on the horizon, lying off the island of Sumatra. This is the first land which we have seen since leaving Nosi Be. For twenty days we have seen no land at all. It is difficult to remain in one's cabin, owing to the heat. No other place is convenient for writing. The ship is in darkness everywhere. This has been done purposely, in order that when the men have to rush hurriedly on deck they will be accustomed to the darkness. The battleship _Orel_ delayed the speed of the fleet for two hours. One of her principal steam-pipes burst, and she could not steam. Now it is repaired. We are at present in a wide part of the straits. God forbid that a similar thing should happen in the narrows, or during the battle. Since seven o'clock till the present moment I have been on the bridge, hesitating to go below. Nevertheless, I am satisfied--satisfied because we are moving towards the finale. _March 24th._--Yesterday we lost four hours of the twenty-four. This is bad. In order to pass through the dangerous parts by day we shall have to remain in the straits an extra day. The sooner we pass the straits of Malacca and Singapore the better. I am surprised at myself. I am in no way disturbed. Knowing that at any moment any night we may be attacked, I continue to sleep peacefully. I go to bed undressed. I go to sleep quickly, and think little about the danger. My servant is dissatisfied. He bothers me to hide my things. He has not found a convenient place for them, and it troubles him. Though I know of a good place, I am silent. He is probably beginning a removal. I shall have to sort out my clothes, and I do not want to. It is raining and gloomy. This morning there were two water-spouts, but I did not see them, although I got up at seven. The torpedo-boat _Biedovy_ reported that in the morning a sailor was found lying motionless on deck. It was concluded that he was dead. They asked permission to bury him at once. The staff delayed the answer. Suddenly it was discovered that he was alive. A nice thing if they had thrown him alive into the sea! One of the officers in the _Suvaroff_ was playing with the dog yesterday. The dog grew very tired, and suddenly began to bark furiously, rushed on deck, and bit the other dogs. They poured water over it, but to no purpose. It jumped into the stern gallery, and then overboard, and was drowned. The two dogs which were bitten were tied up, as they may possibly go mad. We have been some time in the straits of Malacca, but up to the present have not met a single steamer. At night sometimes lights are visible, and once by day smoke was seen on the horizon. It was hardly perceptible. Before the storm there is calm. It may be so now. A signal has been made that at night officers are not to sleep away from the guns they command. The crew have been sleeping at their guns for some time past. Every precaution is taken against a night attack of torpedo-boats. We have begun to meet several steamers. They very wisely get out of their way in good time. A heavy squall has just gone by. Until then the sea was as calm as a mirror. The officers are distributing pots with powders for extinguishing fires, and bags containing bandages. I do not believe in fire-extinguishing powders. The sailor about whose death there was a misunderstanding has been buried. Some one in the torpedo-boat read the appointed prayers, our priest with his cross blessed the deceased from afar, and the body was launched into the sea. How simple! After dinner I spent three hours on the bridge with the captain. I had tea there. I asked him about Vladivostok and the life there, etc. At noon to-day there were 2,100 more versts to Kamranh, which we can do in about seven days if there is no fight or other hindrance. _March 25th_ (day).--We met steamers all night, but they went aside out of our course. The Hull incident has had its advantages. Last night we met several steamers. The searchlights were turned on them. Admiral Enquist states that he, the captain, officers, and crew clearly saw a steamer, behind which twelve torpedo-boats were following. This can hardly be true. The Japanese are not so foolish as to show their torpedo-boats by day to an enemy's fleet. The _Isumrud_ reported that she saw a steamer followed by porpoises. She hesitates to say that they are submarines, but thinks they are. We shall soon be in a very narrow part, where the fairway is far from wide. We are obliged to go by this fairway, as it is not possible to avoid it. Something horrible may happen in it. There may be submarine boats, or ground-mines, which they may place shortly before we pass, in order that other ships should not strike them. Mines can be put down so that at a given time they will sink themselves. The steamer that is shadowing us might easily do this. She is behaving suspiciously--now going fast, now stopping, now altering course. What is to prevent her from going on ahead, and laying down ground-mines in her wake? Even if our ships successfully evade the mines, they will in a certain period of time sink, and the straits will again be safe for neutral ships. It can all be done so simply and conveniently. Will the Japanese really allow such an opportunity to pass of damaging our fleet? To-day there was mass. I did not go to church, but lay down. I wanted to go to sleep. Another night, and the straits of Malacca will be behind us. The night is dark. At 4 a.m. we shall again be in a narrow fairway. We shall pass Singapore by day, and at six we shall enter the South China Sea. We shall pass the Natuna Islands, where the presence of the Japanese is suspected. Do they intend to attack us in the straits of Malacca? By to-morrow evening this will be cleared up. Will they concentrate all their attention and their strength on the strait of Sunda, or east of it? Perhaps they do not want to undertake anything till the fleet enters the China Sea. The Japanese are enterprising. Why do they miss opportunities that are so favourable for them? To-day we saw a long, narrow, even strip of land which was the Malay Peninsula. It is here that I again see the Asiatic Continent. Some strange birds were flying round the ships. They were not gulls, nor albatrosses, or any other sea-bird. _March 26th_ (night).--At eleven o'clock we passed the town of Malacca. The lights of the town were distinctly visible. Of course, the lights of our ships are clearly seen in the town. When we were passing it a schooner appeared on the horizon, coming towards us. The searchlights were turned on to her. A torpedo-boat approached her, and conducted her past the fleet. It was a pretty sight. Her white hull and sails showed out clearly in the darkness. She passed close to the right column of battleships. None of the officers has gone to bed to-night. I am thinking of going now. It might happen that we shall reach Vladivostok without meeting Japanese ships. It would be a great surprise for us all. The sea is wide, and there are many ways to that port. It is possible that our extreme course will be so successfully chosen that the Japanese will leave it unwatched. Since the battle of Mukden we have had no news of what is going on at the theatre of war. As a matter of fact, we only had agency telegrams about the Mukden fight. Many people doubt their authenticity. I believe them. Up to the present all that the French agency telegrams have informed us of has proved true. In a few hours we shall be in the China Sea. The officers are enumerating various reasons why the Japanese did nothing while we were in the straits of Malacca. Perhaps they have prepared for a meeting in the Rio Strait, which we shall soon pass. Perhaps the English insisted on their not causing trouble by laying mines in the straits of Malacca, where there are considerable movements of merchant ships. Perhaps the Japanese fleet is waiting for us at the Natuna Archipelago. Fighting a battle there would be more advantageous for us, because our ships could manoeuvre. We shall see if anything happens to-night. Some people suppose that peace may have concluded. If that is the case, it is a very disgraceful peace. Russia can scarcely entertain it. I did not leave my cabin until six o'clock to-day. Going on deck, I learnt the news that the Russian consul from Singapore approached the fleet in a tug, and told us that three weeks ago the Japanese fleet at its full strength came to Singapore, accompanied by twelve transports, floating workshops, hospitals, and torpedo-boats. From Singapore they went to Borneo. Near Borneo is the small island of Labuan. The Japanese bought land from a Russian Jew, in this island, and made themselves at home there. They connected Labuan with Singapore by a telegraph-cable. By this means they could have received news of our movements yesterday. Their fleet at Labuan consists of twenty-two warships, not counting transports, hospital-ships, workshops, and torpedo-boats. To-night a torpedo attack, and to-morrow a battle, are almost inevitable. I must put on clean clothes, and lay in a stock of wool so as not to be deafened by the firing. I received an extract from the log. Such nonsense is written in it that I shall have to alter it. It is past ten o'clock, and up to now all is quiet. The Japanese consider the 27th their lucky number. Perhaps they have postponed the battle to that date. According to the consul the passage of our fleet through the straits of Malacca was a complete surprise to every one, including the Japanese. That accounts for our not having met with any resistance. The eyes of all were fixed in another direction. Another ship has just met and passed the fleet. We turned searchlights on her and let her pass. At noon to-day we were about 1,500 versts from Kamranh. If there are no delays we can get there on March 30th. Probably in this evening's telegrams is the news that our fleet has passed Singapore. We heard that Vladivostok and Harbin are still in our hands. Shall I go to bed, and if so shall I sleep? What if there is an attack? I have begun to look with equanimity on possible attacks and fights. I do not think I shall lose my presence of mind during a battle, but shall remain calm. Soon I may put myself to the test. Again the attention of the whole world is concentrated on the fleet. How much the war depends on its success or defeat! The hope of victory is small, but if it comes, everything will be changed at once. The faces of a good many lengthened a little when the proximity of the Japanese fleet was known. A conflict with it is unavoidable. _March 27th._--The night passed quietly. The fleet has stopped since this morning. Torpedo-boats are coaling. They had very little left, and it would not last to Kamranh. What of the Japanese? Do they not know the place where we are to be found, and are they looking for us at sea? It is hardly likely. Our course is clear--to the north from Singapore to Vladivostok. Perhaps they have gone ahead and are waiting somewhere. This is possible. The question is being asked why the fleet does not go straight to Vladivostok, not calling at Kamranh. It would be easy to do this if the ships were filled up with coal for so great a distance. Coaling at sea when an attack is expected every minute is unwise and dangerous. The torpedo-boats have filled up with coal and the fleet is proceeding. To-day there was mass. I stood thinking that perhaps this was the last service in the _Suvaroff_. Perhaps the next will be a requiem for the killed. We must expect and be prepared for everything. 7 p.m.--We have passed the island of Anamba. The admiral opines that we shall meet the Japanese fleet to-morrow. The sea is calm. There is a swell. The small ships roll. It is interesting to know what impression the news, that the fleet has passed Singapore, will produce in Petersburg. Where is the third fleet now? Will it join us at Vladivostok? Shall we await it at Kamranh? If we safely arrive at that bay, then the Japanese will have to look after the Vladivostok cruisers, our ships, and the third fleet. They will have to divide their forces, and that would be an advantage for us. Can they not have left ships to watch Vladivostok? Is there ice there still? They say it usually breaks up at the beginning of April. During the coming fight the _Oleg_ and _Aurora_ have been ordered to support the battleships that are sustaining the fight. Some of the cruisers will remain to defend the transports, which ought to try and reach Kamranh. At noon to-day we were rather more than 1,000 versts from it, and relatively closer to our final goal. Can it be that at the very last we shall be unsuccessful? All our troubles and deprivations will have been in vain. There are too many chances on the side of Japan. It is a good thing that we passed through the straits of Malacca. The Japanese evidently did not count on our taking such a risky step. The papers, continually writing about the strait of Sunda and our colliers which were assembled there, turned their attention from the straits of Malacca. The consul, however, stated that five submarines were waiting for us the way we came. If that was the case, why did they not attack? _March 28th._--All is quiet at present. Where are the Japanese? Why have they not attacked us? Perhaps they thought they might disable some of our ships with torpedos in the strait of Sunda. The large ships would then attack our weakened fleet to decisively destroy it. The whole scheme was upset as we did not go that way. Perhaps they are now cruising somewhere near Saigon awaiting us. Our idea is to go in to Kamranh, and wait there for the third fleet and those ships which leave Russia in the spring with the _Slava_ at their head. We shall lie at Kamranh an endless number of days in inactivity, as we did at Nosi Be. We have already been twenty-six days at sea. Provisions are running short. We have taken to salt meat. At the admiral's table there is neither vodky, meat, nor coffee. Following the general fashion, I intended to hide my things. I looked at my winter forage-cap and there it ended. I am lazy. Our fleet has made an unusual voyage. If it succeeded in reaching Vladivostok without calling at Kamranh, the whole world would be amazed at the immensity and daring of the voyage. 10 p.m.--We have begun to receive telegraphic signs. Possibly the Japanese cruisers are communicating with each other, seeking us. Perhaps we shall not go to Kamranh after all. Colliers are due to arrive there on April 1st. We shall then receive our mails. This letter must be closed in good time. By my reckoning you will receive it at the end of April. By that time my fate and the fate of the fleet will be made clear. _March 29th._--_South China Sea._ I sent a letter and telegram to you by the hospital-ship _Orel_, which is going to Saigon. She will be near there by dawn, if the Japanese have not attacked by that time. Then she will be obliged to take their sick and wounded, and receive orders from them. They will not sink her, as she is a Red Cross hospital. The _Suvaroff_ alone managed to send letters. The other ships did not even know that she was going to Saigon to-day. An invalid officer was sent on board the _Orel_. He could not walk on board, but was hoisted up by a derrick in a special chair. A little coffee was obtained from the _Orel_ for the admiral's table. I overslept myself to-day, and only arose at nine o'clock. It is a time of alarms. We constantly meet various steamers, principally under the English flag. The _Oleg_ continually approaches to question them. This morning we met two English cruisers. One of them saluted, and the _Suvaroff_ answered. This was early. I woke up, hearing the firing. "Now," I thought, "they have begun." I looked out of my port and went to sleep again. When our signalmen first saw the English cruisers, they decided it was the _Diana_ coming to join us. One of them was rather like her. Perhaps the English cruisers help the Japanese to look after our fleet. We saw seven clouds of smoke, but they quickly disappeared behind the horizon. They were evidently seven ships. A steamer flying the English flag met a detachment of our cruisers scouting, and signalled, "Have seen Japanese torpedo-boats. Beware, and look out for attacks to-night." I am pleased that I was able to send you a letter and telegram. I do not count on receiving an answer to the latter. The _Orel_ will not stay long at Saigon. Probably you will receive my last letter in April, or in the beginning of May, when we shall be at Vladivostok, or----! _March 30th._--General coaling has been going on from early this morning. If we had continued our voyage we should have been at Kamranh about two o'clock. Now we cannot get there before to-morrow. There is no communication between the ships. There is a great scandal in the _Alexander III._ She indicated that she had about 900 tons of coal, but in reality it proved to be only 350. Gradually everything is coming to an end. Cigarettes and matches are scarce. I obtained a piece of soap to-day, and there is only one left. When the coaling finished, the fleet proceeded. I did not leave the _Suvaroff_. Several times in the course of the day merchant vessels passed the fleet. I make out that we shall reach Kamranh by dawn to-morrow. We shall anchor there later. The depth of the fairway will be sounded and searched. Although the soundings of this bay are shown on the chart, they do not trust them entirely. The search will be for fear that the Japanese have laid down mines. It will not be an unnecessary precaution. The bay has two entrances. At one of these a temporary boom will be made in order that the Japanese may not creep up to our ships that way. 10 p.m.--A sailor was buried at sea to-day. It is an extraordinary thing that it again happened in the _Oslyabya_. They have a great many deaths in that ship. The charts with the soundings of Kamranh proved very inaccurate. One officer informed the staff that he had grounded there in some ship. The depth of the spot was shown in the chart as great, whereas in fact it was slight. While they are sounding and searching to-morrow all the ships will coal, in order not to waste time. Birds are flying round the ships. A heron and a dove fell from weariness near the _Suvaroff_. The heron was drowned, but the dove was rescued by a cutter loaded with coal. The moon is now shining. In half an hour it will have set and darkness will come on. If the Japanese do not take advantage of it for a night attack, we shall be near Kamranh by morning. I am pleased. As a matter of fact, I was thrown out of my groove the moment the war began. At first there was heavy night work, I was seldom at home; then I was transferred to Cronstadt, then Revel, and Libau, and then abroad. I have had fourteen months of this unnatural and vagrant life. CHAPTER X THE STAY AT KAMRANH _March 31st._--Arrived at Kamranh. We are lying with engines stopped. Steamboats and torpedo-boats have gone to reconnoitre and take soundings. Coaling is just beginning. As we approached this morning there was a fog. Suddenly it lifted, and between the fleet and the shore a steamer was seen. Seeing the fleet, she went full speed, hoping to escape. The _Jemchug_, _Isumrud_, and _Svietlana_ were sent to examine her. They overtook her, questioned her, and let her go without examination. How many steamers were allowed to go in this way! I am firmly convinced that many of them were carrying goods and provisions to Japan. We allowed them to go after merely questioning them, and not even setting foot on their decks. What sort of a fool would admit that he was taking a cargo to Japan? Steamers should be searched, and not questioned. We have let this one go. Why did she run if there was nothing contraband on board? The Japanese would have acted differently. They would not have parted from them with answers only. Everything drops into our hands, and we neglect it. How the Japanese and their friends must jeer at us! And they are right. It is hot here. At Vladivostok it is cold. When we arrive there the sharp change of temperature will hardly be conducive to health. There will probably be much catarrh, and even here at Kamranh it is easy to go down with the local fever. A cold wind comes from the hills. The colliers should arrive soon, bringing the old mails. I count on receiving letters from December 13th to January 21st. Where has that respected institution called the Naval General Staff sent our letters now? Probably they are pigeon-holed in Petersburg. We have not yet entered the bay, but are lying near it. In the depths of my heart flutters a hope that the _Orel_ brings your answering telegram. The last one was a month and half ago. We shall evidently receive nothing from Kamranh, neither provisions nor stores. It is beginning to be doubtful if we shall be able to send a mail. It is supposed that our stay here will not be long. We shall take in coal and stores, and move on. The distance from here to Vladivostok as the crow flies, _i.e._ in a straight line, is little more than 3,000 versts. Of course, our journey will be considerably longer. I reckon that if nothing happens we can do it in fifteen days. Trying days they will be. Perhaps the course we choose will be round about, in which case we shall toss on the sea a long time. 11 p.m.--The transports and some of the torpedo-boats have entered the bay; the other torpedo-boats and warships will remain at sea, cruising round Kamranh with lights. Probably we shall go into the bay to-morrow. There are signs that we shall wait here for the third fleet. If you could but imagine what is going on! If it were possible for me to tell you all about it, you would be amazed. Should I live, I will tell you afterwards. No, there is no use our fighting. Things have come to such a pass that I can only wring my hands and feel assured that no one can escape his fate, for this is the only possible assurance. The weather has begun to grow cooler. The engines and boilers of all the ships are worn, especially the boilers. It is not surprising, considering that for thirty days we have not let go an anchor. Everything has its limits. _April 1st._--Kamranh Bay. We have only just begun to enter the bay, having spent thirty days at sea. The hospital-ship _Orel_ has not returned, nor have the colliers come. Have they fallen into the hands of the Japanese? When our warships approached close to Kamranh, fishermen were seen in their boats; but for some reason not one of them came near us. In the morning a little bird, apparently an exhausted canary, was caught on deck. Last night was cooler. I woke up dry this morning. Such a thing has not happened to me for a very long time. One cannot help wondering if it is wise, losing so much time at Kamranh. All the preparations Japan made for meeting us at the Sunda Straits can be transferred to another spot. They will have time to construct everything afresh. Their device at Sunda Strait having failed, it will be more advantageous for them to meet our fleet nearer their own shores, where they could at once repair their damages and where they have many bases. All this compels me to think that we are hardly likely to meet them before passing Formosa. Of course, if we remain long at this place, circumstances may alter, and afford the Japanese the possibility of attacking us in the bay itself, and of mining it. In that case Kamranh will be an actual trap. It seems to me that the Japanese consider us more crafty than we really are. On the contrary, we are very simple. I say "simple" in order not to use a stronger term. We have just anchored. The approaching colliers can be seen in the distance. The shores of the bay are hilly, in some places covered with growth; in others there is grey stone or sand. The sand is a curious colour; sometimes it is quite white, and sometimes yellow. I have to go away in the steamboat. During the night, two torpedo-boats went to examine a passing steamer, and the _Blestyastchy_ managed to tear the _Bezuprechny's_ side. The sea is not wide enough for two Russian torpedo-boats! They must be repaired. In the _Bezuprechny_ the rudder is out of order, and one engine does not work. Officers who went into the bay in torpedo-boats yesterday state that at Kamranh there are post and telegraph offices, plenty of provisions, and that a railway is being constructed to Saigon. A telegram was received here yesterday that the third fleet had left Jibutil. Hava's agency states that a great fight occurred between our fleet and the Japanese, near the island of Borneo. Such false news will only cause uneasiness in Russia. Three weeks ago two Japanese cruisers arrived here, but two torpedo-boats were sent from Saigon demanding them to leave the bay. They went. Perhaps they will tell us to go away from here, and evidently it is supposed that we shall remain here a long time. The external appearance of the bay and its entrances compare with Port Arthur. I hope it will not actually become a second Port Arthur. They are just bringing the mail from the collier. _April 2nd._--Yesterday the admirals and captains of all ships were sent for on board the _Suvaroff_. There was a council of war. The collier only brought from Diego Suarez letters which were addressed to Madagascar. For some ships there were no letters, and for others only two or three each. There was much swearing over it. The hospital-ship _Orel_ is approaching and brings news. Yesterday about 3 p.m. I went to the _Bezuprechny_. The work there seemed enormous. They wanted a fortnight to do it in. I undertook to do it in forty-eight hours, and I think I shall succeed. I went to bed at four--slept in the _Kamchatka_ in the captain's deck cabin. I made myself very dirty. In the torpedo-boats I always take care to wear some one else's white tunic when I have to crawl about. I fed in the _Kamchatka_. They feed there better than in the _Suvaroff_. A Chinese cook has been engaged from Singapore for the admiral's table; perhaps the _Orel_ is bringing him here. The workmen in the _Kamchatka_ are without tobacco, and pay ten copecks for a cigarette. How is this? Tobacco was sent them from the _Suvaroff_. I got on board with difficulty, as there was no boat. At sunset I shall go to the torpedo-boat, and spend the night there. They sent off a mail while I was away. I was sorry I could not send a letter. When I leave the _Suvaroff_ again I shall leave this one, and hope that it will be sent somehow. How carelessly they deal with the post! It was decided that the _Gortchakoff_ (transport) should go to Russia from Nosi Be. They sent the mail in her and many sailors' letters. The _Gortchakoff_ came with us, all the correspondence is in her, and the senders think that the letters have already been received at home. It is very annoying. Several letters contained money. The _Orel_ took the invalid officer to Saigon, in order that he might go back to Russia. When we were passing through the straits of Malacca a sailor of the _Alexander_ disappeared, with his hammock. They thought he wanted to desert the ship, and had thrown himself overboard, taking with him his hammock, which was covered with cork and floats. When the _Bezuprechny_ received her injury a servant thought she was sinking, and waking all the officers, he put a life-belt into their hands. There is a goat in that torpedo-boat. They brought her from Nosi Be. During the thirty days' passage she fed only on paper, did not eat hay, and even now refuses it. They nurse her like a baby. All the visiting-cards have been eaten by her. To-day she has been taken for a run on shore. A boatswain and a sailor were buried to-day. They were killed by a derrick in the _Irtish_. In almost every port there are victims of accidents in the fleet. I saw some natives--Annamese. They are of the Malay type, yellow and rather repulsive. They approached the _Kamchatka_ and _Bezuprechny_, offering to sell various rubbish. The tobacco was quickly bought up, and they paid very dearly for it. Will the _Orel_ bring me an answer to my telegram? How delighted I should be if I received it! We are coaling in the _Suvaroff_. Everywhere there is dirt and nastiness; they are heaping up coal in the wardroom and in the officers' cabins. 1 a.m.--Received your telegram. Many thanks. _April 3rd._--_Transport Kamchatka, Kamranh Bay._ At last I can write. I have not been in the _Suvaroff_ since yesterday. All the time I was either in the _Bezuprechny_ or on board the _Kamchatka_, where I am now writing to you. I obtained paper, went into the deck-house, and am scribbling. Horrible! Whole flocks of cockroaches are running about. The German steamer _Dagmar_ weighed anchor yesterday to go to Saigon. She was stopped and given a mail from the staff. I took advantage of this, and gave my letters to be sent to her. I am not satisfied with the work in the _Bezuprechny_. I counted on finishing it to-day, and have not succeeded. The sea and the swell hindered it. Her rudder is repaired, and they are now repairing the breach. Yesterday a French cruiser came to Kamranh with an admiral. Salutes were exchanged. The admirals paid each other visits. To-day the cruiser left. 11 p.m.--Battleship _Kniaz Suvaroff_. I had scarcely succeeded in writing the last page when a letter from the _Suvaroff_ came for me. I found the ship horribly dirty. Everywhere there was coal-dust as thick as your finger. It hangs in the air like a fog. I do not know where or how to sleep. It is hot and dusty in the cabin. Last night I dozed, sitting on the _Kamchatka's_ deck in a chair (a canvas one like those used in datchas[15]). I woke up at six o'clock in the morning. These last days I have been feeding in the _Bezuprechny_, or sometimes in the _Kamchatka_. They feed better everywhere than in the _Suvaroff_. It has been awkward about provisions up to now. Everything has been bought up on shore. Literally nothing remains. Eggs are sold at twenty-eight copecks a-piece (about 7_d._). In the morning they were selling ox-meat for nearly a gold piece. Altogether there are four Europeans living on shore, and forty Malays. It is almost a desert. There are only five or six houses. The engineers who are constructing the railway live on the opposite side of the bay. There is a telegraph and post-office here. A Chinese receives the correspondence, and does it very slowly. From twelve to six yesterday he only took ten telegrams and twelve letters from two men. Twelve men were unable to hand in anything. A Chinese clerk is not a quick worker. There is splendid sport here--elephants, tigers, monkeys, etc. A clerk from the _Donskoi_ was buried on shore to-day. Admiral Folkersham has had a stroke, but the doctors say it is very slight and not dangerous. Do you remember I told you a sailor threw himself and his hammock into the straits of Malacca? A steamer picked him up, took him to Singapore, handed him over to the Russian consul, who sent him to Saigon, and from there he was sent to the fleet. He declares that he fell overboard accidentally. When the hospital-ship _Orel_ approached Saigon she was met by a cutter and a steamer of Günsburg's, which had come to co-operate with her. The public were not allowed on board the _Orel_. In the evening, papers came out announcing that the Japanese had been defeated by our fleet, that the _Orel_ was full of wounded, whose groans were audible, although no one was allowed on board, etc. Such lies can only agitate people in Russia. The Japanese, of whom there are many in Saigon, were so offended that next day they did not leave their houses. I was afraid I should not have been able to write to you to-day. It would have been the first time. Even on the day of the storm off the Cape of Good Hope, on December 8th, I managed to write a few words. _April 4th._--It was arranged by signal that all engineer-constructors should assemble to meet me. After having spoken to them, I set out for the _Nachimoff_. I lunched there and drank two wineglasses of vodky, two tumblers of beer, and a little claret. It so happened that it would have been difficult to refuse them. In the _Nachimoff_ all the partitions of the officers' cabins have been broken down (so that there should not be a fire). The furniture and the sleeping-bunks have been taken away. The mattresses lie on the floor. All the ships have prepared for battle, and present a strange appearance. Everywhere there are defences made out of chains, torpedo-nets, coal, hawsers, sailors' hammocks, etc.--anything that comes to hand. The ships have nothing in common with what one is accustomed to see. Three elephants have been brought here for sale. It is not likely that any one will purchase them. The French cruiser has returned, and lies in the bay by the side of our ships. It is known that a steamer will pass Kamranh soon, taking about 280 poods of rice to Japan. The admiral evidently hesitates about stopping her, fearing that he will draw on himself the accusation of making a base of a neutral port for the operations of his cruisers. The captain of the steamer is not averse to giving himself up, and will not hide or fly from pursuit. Although we are lying at Kamranh, matters stand like this--any moment we may expect an order to weigh anchor. Everything is in readiness for this. The sailor who threw himself into the straits of Malacca has been brought here. He belongs to the _Nachimoff_, and not the _Alexander_, as I told you before. Until the steamer picked him up he kept himself afloat in the water for nearly ten hours. To lighten himself he took everything off, only leaving a piece of neck-cover on his shoulders, so that the sun should not scorch him. He went overboard at night, and they drew him out next day. "It was trying, going on board the steamer," he said. "They all looked at me, and I had nothing on." We have to go 4,500 versts to Vladivostok. If we do not leave here soon, we shall have dark, moonless nights. _April 5th._--Kamranh Bay. How tired I am to-day! All day long I have been going from ship to ship. They have not made me a dirk in the _Borodino_, as the officer who promised it is lying ill. The officers in the _Oleg_ are angry because Admiral Enquist is being transferred to her. The _Aurora's_ officers went shooting, but only killed a dove. They did not go far from the shore. _April 6th._--All the battleships and the _Aurora_ weighed anchor and went to sea. The rest of the ships remained in the bay. I smoked my last Russian cigarette. Some of the transports are going to Saigon, and perhaps will not return. How news is fabricated! There is a Reuter's telegram (and Reuter publishes the most trustworthy news) that in the fight with the Japanese our fleet lost the torpedo-boats _Buiny_ and _Blestyastchy_, and two cruisers, the _Aurora_ and the _Donskoi_. Pleasant for those to read this telegram whose nearest are in these ships. Although the cook has not arrived, the food has improved. Provisions were obtained from a steamer which arrived from Saigon. There is a Japanese mineral water called "Jansen." A great deal of this water has been brought to the fleet. I tried it, and it was not bad. The people who sorted the provisions behaved like wild wolves. There were some disgusting scenes. The crew of the _Orel_ broke open a box and got drunk. For some reason a sailor threw himself on the doctor with raised fists, but did not succeed in hitting him. Two officers who happened to be near seized the sailor and nearly killed him. They beat his face into a pulp. It was horrible. The French saw all this, and a nice opinion they will have of the Russians. A week before the _Orel_ went to Saigon the captain of the _Borodino_ ordered 4,000 eggs, hams, etc., for the crew. The crew in that ship will celebrate Easter like human beings. It will not be so in other ships. My notebook is finished. This is the second. Can I obtain another? How much is written in these two books!--all the history of our breakages and repairs. There is neither sight nor sound of the Japanese fleet. Will they let the third fleet join us without a fight? The _Gortchakoff_, _Jupiter_, _Kieff_, and _Kitai_ went to Saigon. Cruisers escorted them. Perhaps these transports will bring us coal. There is some belonging to Russia, but will the French allow us to take it? There are perpetual forest fires on shore. They are a beautiful sight by night. Europeans say that elephants, tigers, and panthers wander about the shore at night. The beasts feel that they are the owners. They even go up to the houses, out of which it is not safe to venture. The place is quite wild. The engineers who are making the cutting for the railway complain that the elephants cherish enmity against the telegraph-posts, and constantly tear them up. It is an interesting country, but not during such a cruise as ours. I have not been ashore up to the present, and probably shall not go. How wearisome it all is to me! It sometimes seems that this life on board will never end. A complete apathy comes over me. Time is agonisingly long. _April 7th._--An inquiry began to-day about the sailor who attacked the officer in the _Orel_. If they look on the matter seriously, he will have to end his earthly existence. There is a picture of the surrender of Port Arthur in the French papers. Their contempt for the Russians is growing. They call us hares. There was one bright side in all this war--the defence of Port Arthur, and now that is besmirched. The French cruiser is lying at Kamranh, and will remain here as long as our fleet does not leave. It looks as if she were guarding our ships from an attack by the Japanese. Cursed war! One is ashamed to look a foreigner in the face. Fifteen months, and not one victory! Rout after rout, and there is nothing but disgrace and humiliation. There are several officers in the fleet who are preparing to import their wives to Vladivostok. How comparatively near that port lies! We have come a tremendous journey, and only a small bit remains. I wonder if we shall arrive there soon? We are now waiting for the third fleet, and the Japanese are preparing to meet us. No reports about them have reached us. We do not even know where their fleet is. No doubt they know our every movement. It is all horrible. It is annoying when one sees how we do not know how to make use of our strength. _April 8th._--Our auxiliary cruisers returning from escorting the transports to Saigon met a large French steamer. There were many Russians on board her. They were in uniform, and were evidently returning from captivity. They waved their caps and cheered our cruisers. The French admiral came on board during lunch. The meal was interrupted while he was paying a visit, which was quite unexpected. Has he come in order to request us to go? Yes, it is so. France insists that we leave Kamranh. She is our ally, too. It is proposed that we go back 600 versts and there wait for the third fleet. It is humiliating to go back and retreat from our final goal. If we were to wait for the third fleet, why did we leave Nosi Be? We only give the Japanese a better chance of preparing themselves. After all, it may happen that we shall go on without waiting. Time has been lost, and our strength has not been augmented. The strength of the Japanese will be concentrated in a smaller sphere of activity, and consequently will be more effective. In what a horrible situation the second and third fleets are now placed! Where and how shall we effect a junction? Had it not been for the third fleet, we might have been at Vladivostok a long time ago. What will the third fleet do? By reckonings it has only passed Colombo. From Petersburg it was ordered to go by the straits of Sunda. _April 9th._--An officer has come from the French cruiser and brought a letter for the admiral. A signal has been made to get up anchor at noon to-morrow. It is still unknown where we are going--to Vladivostok, or to some other bay. I wonder if we shall be able to send letters to-morrow? There is little hope of that, but in any case I shall be ready. South China Sea.--At one o'clock we weighed anchor and went to sea. The transports and the _Almaz_ remained in the harbour, as they were coaling from German colliers. The fleet will remain near Kamranh till they are ready and can join us. Where we shall steer then is unknown. Of course, we might toss at sea waiting for the third fleet; but coal! coal! The coaling question is the question of life. Two of our colliers are arrested. One at Singapore and the other at Saigon. (Saigon, too, is French! How this will please you!) Our mails have been sent to the _Tamboff_, which, after giving the fleet her load, will go to Saigon. If she does not fall into the hands of the Japanese, the letters will go to Russia. There is an officer in the fleet who was in the _Cesarevitch_ on the 28th--that is, on the day on which Witgift[16] was killed, and when our ships fled so disgracefully wherever they could. From what he says it is evident that the morale in the ships was bad, and that they were all convinced that they would return to Port Arthur; that the Japanese suffered heavily, and if our ships had held out for half an hour more the enemy's fleet would have run. He related a good deal. Obviously, we might easily have been the victors. The pity was that the spirit of despair reigned. The _Cesarevitch_ hardly suffered at all. Wirenius did much harm to the fleet. All these disgraceful stories will come to light after the war is over. Many heroes will then be taken down from their pedestals. If we only had had clever and daring leaders the Port Arthur fleet might easily have destroyed the Japanese. What a number of mistakes we made! How little we valued our strength. When one recalls it all one cannot account for the fatal errors. We have to pay very dearly for them. What follies they have perpetrated on land! How many young lives have been lost! How much will all this cost Russia! The weather is becoming better. The ships are going very slowly, keeping near Kamranh Bay with lights covered. As usual, I stayed a long while on the bridge. The rainy season will begin here soon, as well as typhoons. How will the smaller vessels, like torpedo-boats, get on? _April 10th._--After lunch I am going to the _Tamboff_; she is shortly going to Saigon. I shall post this letter by her. One of the staff-officers should have gone to the _Tamboff_, but they are nearly all lying ill. I myself feel well, thank God! Yesterday the _Oslyabya_ buried another sailor. There was mass to-day. It is Palm Sunday. How time has flown! All night the ships remained at sea. The night passed quietly. The _Isumrud_ fouled her screws with a chain. Divers were sent down. A steamer flying the Norwegian flag passed by. She was examined, but nothing suspicious was found. She was coming from Japan, and not going there. I took my last letter and gave it to the captain of the _Tamboff_. I handed him a franc for the stamp, but he was offended and would not take it. I tried to obtain cigarettes, but was unsuccessful. The wardroom wanted to buy vodky from her, but that too was a failure. The Norwegian steamer which we examined this morning gave us the latest papers. They are all English. The discretion of the English press is extraordinary. They consider Japan their ally, so they purposely say nothing about her fleet. About ours they print all the news they in one way or another possess. It is not the English newspapers alone that act thus. To do them justice, the Japanese carefully conceal everything, and no one ever rightly knows how many ships they have lost. Not only ships, but up to the present no one knows how many troops Japan can place in the field. It was thought about 300,000, and already they have placed nearly a million men. The foreign press (English and French) puts our losses from the beginning of the war at about 400,000 men. If that is the case, how many are left to Linievitch? A mere trifle, about 200,000. Could anything more disgraceful than this war be imagined? _April 11th._--From time to time merchant vessels pass near the fleet. Our cruisers and torpedo-boats go and examine them. A French steamer came quite close, and a man in her expressed a wish to hand something to the admiral in person. I know now that he only announced the date the third fleet passed Colombo, and said that nothing fresh had happened in Manchuria. A journey of only twelve or fifteen days separates us from Vladivostok. There it is cold, and here it is hot. Many of us will catch colds. The crew are dressed badly. They have no boots, and their clothes are worn out and ragged. The Frenchman brought no news. We received newspapers. From these it is evident that there is a great discussion about Kamranh in France. They fear the Japanese are there. The news can scarcely be correct that Admiral Nebogatoff's fleet (third fleet) has passed Colombo. Its course is elsewhere. _April 12th._--How people are deceived sometimes! It seemed to a good many in the _Suvaroff_ yesterday that there was a steam cutter between her and the _Alexander III._ Instantly the fighting lanterns were uncovered, and the rays of the searchlight turned on to the suspicious place. They saw some white breakers and foam. Many are inclined to believe it was a submarine boat, disappearing under water when they began to light up. In confirmation of this supposition they point out that the _Jemchug_ saw something like a periscope (a sort of tube which projects out of the water and allows objects that are above to be seen in the submerged boat). Last evening I went to the upper deck cabin to breathe the fresh air, lay on the sofa, and went to sleep. At four o'clock I woke and went back to my cabin. I have learnt to make cigarettes fairly well. If paper and tobacco last, I can get on without ready-made ones. They are beginning to say that in a day or two we shall leave Kamranh for another bay. To do this we shall have to take in coal and provisions, leaving the transports. The _Tamboff_ apparently will not come with us. Letters will not be taken to Saigon. A war vessel has been manoeuvring in sight of the fleet. Fearing that she is Japanese, the _Oleg_ has been sent to make certain. It is a false alarm. She is probably the French cruiser _Déscartes_. There is another steamer coming towards the fleet. The question of going to another bay is settled. We are going to the bay of Van Fong, which is about one hundred versts north of Kamranh. It is probably a wild and deserted spot. I am bored and anxious, and long to be home. FOOTNOTES: [15] A country house or bungalow. [16] A Russian admiral. CHAPTER XI DELAYS AT VAN FONG _April 13th._--At about nine o'clock the signalman in an emotional voice announced that a warship was coming towards us from the north, flying the Russian naval flag and several signals. It turned out to be the French cruiser _Déscartes_. She was signalling to us, and hoisted the Russian flag so that we should understand. There is news that a hospital-ship has arrived at Batavia. It is said to be the _Kostroma_, which is with Admiral Nebogatoff's fleet. We are approaching the anchorage of Van Fong. Some of the ships are already in the bay. The French admiral clearly sympathises with us, and if it depended on him we might lie where it is most convenient for us. He purposely shuts his eyes to a great deal. If he were not so disposed towards us it would be awkward. He is aware, for instance, where we have gone from Kamranh, but pretends that it is unknown to him. How much sometimes depends on one man! We are moving nearer and nearer to Vladivostok. We have altogether come 28,500 versts. There are 4,200 still left. Nearly seven-eighths of our voyage is successfully accomplished. All the ships have anchored. The _Suvaroff_ is coaling from a German steamer. In the latter some of the crew are Chinamen, and perhaps there are Japanese. I forget if I told you that two Japanese were noticed among the crew of the steamer _Dagmar_, which brought provisions to Kamranh. How well their intelligence service is organised! Wherever you look there are Japanese spies. There is authentic news that the ice at Vladivostok has dispersed. Consequently, the Japanese might undertake naval operations against it, if we do not interfere in time. It will be a fine impediment if they cut off Vladivostok by land, thus making it a second Port Arthur. Easter will soon be here, but it is not noticed in the ship. They live and eat as usual. There are no preparations--everywhere is dirt and coal. _April 14th._--In the torpedo-boats they were assured that when we left Kamranh we were going to Vladivostok. They never expected we should anchor in some bay. A sailor deserted at Kamranh. What will he do there, on that savage shore? Another threw himself into the sea from the _Rion_, having cautiously put on a life-belt. He was successfully taken out of the water and put on board the _Rion_. On what do these people count? The shore here is hilly, and rather pretty. There is a small settlement. Chinese came near us in boats. They sold chickens, ducks, bananas, etc. The prices are heavy. They ask more than a rouble for a fowl. They will not let a small pumpkin go for less than fifty copecks. I watched how the Chinese eat in the collier. They eat very cleverly, with sticks. It is curious to see so many people with pigtails. Sometimes they fasten them up on their necks, and sometimes hang them down their backs. Admiral Folkersham is still unwell. He is in bed. The stroke was not so slight as the doctors said. There are a lot of rats in my cabin. Their audacity is so great that when I sit at table they run about my feet. The Chinese who come in junks, bringing provisions, try to get rid of false three-rouble notes made by the Japanese. Several steamers have refused to go from the south with freights for Japan. Their captains explain that their crews do not care to go to those seas where there are Russian ships. They tried to explain to the sailors that they themselves would lose nothing. The only risk was of losing the ship. The persuasion had no effect, so they were taken before a judge. The cause of their not wishing to continue to voyage was explained. "The Russian system," said the sailors, "is to fire at a suspicious ship and save no one. They acted thus in the North Sea. We do not want to run the risk." Unfortunately, we do not do so; but the affair in the North Sea brought us one advantage. Merchant ships do not come near our fleet out of curiosity--they give way to us. Now steamers have no special pleasure in carrying contraband, though they can procure it freely from America. The Japanese were provided with coal long ago. The coal which we sent to Vladivostok in large quantities was captured by them. The captain of the _Eva_, who was at Vladivostok a comparatively short time ago, says that there is no lack of provisions there. They want matches. Perhaps he is only inventing. He also says that he has read a telegram announcing that Nebogatoff's fleet has passed Singapore. If this is true we should effect a junction with it shortly. _April 15th._--Last night a rat bit my foot. I must take measures against them. At the wireless station they are receiving signals. They are rather incoherent messages. It seems as if they meant to say "Nicholas" (the _Nikolai I._ is with the third fleet). In any case, cruisers are being sent to look out for Admiral Nebogatoff's fleet. From the _Borodino_ they announce that they are getting similar signs. An officer has just come from the _Sissoi_ to report that they have received a perfectly clear message, in which the _Nicholas_ asks for the situation of the _Suvaroff_. Perhaps the _Nicholas_ is actually signalling. In any case, it will soon be made clear. If Nebogatoff effects a junction, then, after his ships have had a chance of being overhauled and of coaling, we shall move on to Vladivostok. Now we shall hardly wait for the _Slava_ and other ships. Probably they have not yet left Russia. There has just been a solemn service. O God! what squalor! The crew and the choir stood barefoot. All were in white. They tried to put on clean clothes, but they were all torn. The officers' clothes were bad also. All the same, the service made a deep impression on me. It brought back to my mind the last week I spent with you. This is the second Easter I have spent in a ship (the first in the _Apraxin_[17]), and both with Rojdestvensky. The engineer-constructor Kostenko, who was in the battleship _Orel_, was washing his feet and somehow cut his left foot with the basin. He was sent to the hospital-ship _Orel_. He cut his tendon achilles. The flagship's doctor said he required hospital treatment. I do not yet know if his wound is dangerous. There were six engineer-constructors in the fleet. One has been sent to Russia, and one will be in hospital. Thirty-three per cent. of all the engineers have, so to speak, fallen out of the ranks. For whom else is a similar fate in store? Poor Kostenko! He is a talented man. It is not a year since he left school. Perhaps it is all for the best that he has gone to the hospital-ship _Orel_. At all events, he will not have to undergo the chances of a battle. In order not to disclose the position of the fleet, we are forbidden to send letters and telegrams from here. The question of the messages from the _Nicholas_ has been cleared up. Two French ships were communicating with one another. We have distinguished ourselves quite like Russians. We came into the bay of Van Fong, anchored, and arranged for an inspection of the entrance to the bay. The bay itself was not examined. Suddenly to-day a steamer was seen moving towards the entrance. "What is this?" "Where does she come from?" "Whose steamer?" etc. The alarm was beaten. It appears that it was a French steamer that has been lying here for four days. How this will please you! It is true the bay is very large, and there are many commodious corners in it; but, nevertheless, it does not excuse our carelessness. Why should not Japanese torpedo-boats have hidden themselves earlier, and attacked the fleet at night from the side where they were least expected. It might have happened, and they would certainly have done it if they had known that we should not have examined the bay, or that we should come here. They say very truly that St. Nicholas the "Casual" is protecting us. The "Apes" and the "Anyhows" are fighting indeed! I had to go and see Kostenko in the hospital-ship _Orel_. I have been only on board her once during the whole voyage, and then only because it was absolutely necessary. I am not the only one that feels like that towards her. All of us look on her with aversion, and for some reason she is not popular. Admiral Nebogatoff, by my reckoning, can arrive on the 19th or 23rd. Several days will be necessary for his ships to repair defects, before the voyage to Vladivostok. _April 16th._--I went to the _Oleg_, had lunch there, and stayed till one o'clock. Pity it was a Lenten lunch. There was a sailor on board who had been a clown. He trained a dog and did several tricks. The cook's assistant there has received the name of "Fire King," as he eats burning tow. There are many musicians and actors there. The _Oleg_ is a happy ship. The officers live in a very friendly way. Last night I waged war with the rats for a very long time. They quite conquered. The worst of it is that they do not mind running over my bed. It is very repulsive. I am preparing for Easter. My servant almost by force compelled the washerman to wash a tunic and a pair of trousers for me. My shoes he has not been able to whiten. I chatted for a long time with the navigator and captain. The latter was seated in his deck cabin without a tunic. He says it is nice like that, but it seems strange. The wardroom are collecting creeping plants and green branches in preparation for Easter. All the same, everything is so poor and wretched. Somehow or other they have coloured the eggs, though there is no paint. The bakers have baked the bread in the shape of Easter cakes. There is, of course, no paska,[18] though there will be some at the admiral's table. In all the Chinese boats there are eyes painted in the bows. This is done in order that the boat may see where it is going. Those of our transports which went to Saigon have been allowed to take enough coal to last them to Odessa. Of course, if they are wise they will fill their holds as full as possible. As long as you have permission to take it, you can always gain on the amount. Do you remember in Vigo each ship was only allowed to take 400 tons, and they all took more than 800 each? To-day, for the first time during the voyage, the agencies' telegrams have been published for the information of everybody. The captain, first lieutenant, and senior officer in the _Irtish_ are drinking heavily. They are nearly always drunk. Wild scenes take place. Gloom and dissatisfaction reign in that transport. It might end very badly. Do you know, it seems to me that the eighth will be an important date for our fleet? Perhaps a fight will take place on that date. There are some polite wiseacres who are sending their cards to all the ships. Could anything be sillier at such a time, and under the present circumstances. At 11.45 p.m. a service will begin, but no mass. The Easter scenes in Russia will rise up in my memory. _April 17th._--Christos Voskress![19] I woke later than usual. I am late for the hoisting of the colours. I have not yet left my cabin. Easter is being greeted. During the service half the officers and crew did not leave the loaded guns. The church was carefully covered, so that light should not penetrate outside. The stuffiness was intolerable. The service went off with much ceremony. All were in white. The altar screen was white, and the priest's vestments also. The church was abundantly decorated with tropical plants. Everything was covered with them, and garlands were suspended from the roof. The church is so low that after it was arranged and decorated it looked almost like a cave. We broke our fast at supper. The table was fairly well spread. No one knew in Russia that the fleet would spend Easter in the bay of Van Fong. Everything went on in the ordinary way. After 6 p.m. coal and stores were taken in, and all go about dirty. Do you remember last Easter? It was also out of the common. About three o'clock I went to the _Borodino_, and stayed there till six. Every officer in her received an egg and an Easter cake, and they sent eggs and cakes to the hospital-ship _Orel_. This was the only ship that did this. The others did not trouble about their sick. They promised to get me paper and tobacco. Yesterday a mining cutter from the _Borodino_ was on guard duty, and met three Chinese boats with fish. The cutter examined them. One of the Chinamen seemed suspicious. They thought he was Japanese. He was taken into the cutter, but, profiting by a favourable moment, he jumped into the water, dived, quickly gained the shore, and ran off. A paper was found in the boat. It was apparently a simple permission for them to catch fish at Van Fong, and was written in Chinese. I have prickly heat. It is horrible. In the evenings, after dinner, I often go and sit on the forebridge. I was there to-day and talked with the captain. He was going about barefooted, and without a tunic. _April 18th._--The famous Meteorological Station near Shanghai gives information about a typhoon which is now on the China Sea. Will it catch us? Typhoons are very frequent. Their number depends on the time of the year. We are afraid that our torpedo-boats will not succeed in reaching Vladivostok safely, owing to them. If we go by the strait of Korea we shall have an affair with Japanese torpedo-boats and submarines. It would be a good thing if it were rather rough (like we had it in the German Ocean) when we pass through the strait. It would be more difficult for their submarines and torpedo-boats to attack us. The last few days have been close and damp. My tobacco is mildewed. To economise in cigarettes I have to cut them in halves. Yesterday my servant Golovko stole a bottle of brandy from the sideboard in the wardroom, and got drunk. He is no longer to be one of the servants of the staff. I shall have another. It is a pity, as I was accustomed to Golovko, and he knew my ways. I smoked a cigarette with opium, and am now inclined to sleep. I hope Nebogatoff and his fleet will come soon. Perhaps he will bring a mail. Everything is possible with us. _April 19th._--There is a telegram that Nebogatoff passed Penang on the 15th, and not on the 13th. We may expect him here on the 21st. There have been disorders in the battleship _Orel_ about a cow. Some one broke her leg. They killed her, and gave her meat to the crew for dinner. The crew complained loudly that they were fed with meat from animals that had died. The admiral himself went to the _Orel_ this morning, and raised thunder and lightning. The captain, officers, and crew alike suffered. True, the crew of the _Orel_ are a bad lot. Among the sailors are many who have been punished. Do you remember I told you they were not sailors, but convicts, in the _Orel_. Think of what has happened to this ship--her sinking, grounding, the attempt to damage both engines, etc. The captain is in a great measure responsible for the insubordination of the crew. For some reason he looks at their offences through his fingers, and even reproves the officers if they try to carry out a more severe discipline--and not only discipline, but plain order. There is news that a French warship will arrive here to-morrow. The following comedy will be played out for appearance' sake. All the battleships, the _Oleg_, and the _Aurora_ will get up anchor and go to sea at 6.30 a.m. The transports and other ships will move ahead, as if they were preparing to go. In reality they will only change their position, leaving places for Nebogatoff's fleet. Is not all this neutrality and international right a farce? Here we have been half a month close to the theatre of war, in the waters of a neutral power. All our ships would have left Van Fong if it had not been that we feared the typhoon. You will no doubt receive this letter when we are at Vladivostok. It will be a pity if the letters fall into the hands of the Japanese. I am picturing to myself the fight. An artillery fight does not appear to me to be so terrible and destructive as a torpedo attack. Projectiles could not sink a battleship or cruiser, but a torpedo might very easily, if it hit. We weighed anchor and went to sea. On going out of Van Fong we met the French cruiser. We saluted each other. She signalled that she had some letters for us, which she will hand over to the _Almaz_ in the bay. The cruiser passed into the bay, and our ships lay close to her with engines stopped. This cruiser, the _Guichen_, will leave, and then we shall return. It is a regular farce--and a farce to our advantage--that is played, thanks to the French admiral. Were it not for him the French Government would have driven us out, and there would have been an end to the business. _April 20th._--The French cruiser left, but we passed the night at sea. There is no news about Nebogatoff's fleet. It is strange. He ought to have passed Singapore, and it should have been known to us by now. The admiral is convinced that the Japanese will try to sink Nebogatoff's ships before the latter join us. Perhaps they will not succeed in sinking them, and only damage them. They will then have to be repaired, and the voyage to Vladivostok will be put off for an indefinite period. At eleven I heard the sound of a rocket being discharged. I put on my tunic and went on deck. Men were rushing about everywhere, hurrying to the stations for battle. Shouting the question, "One or two?" They were asking about the rockets. "One" means the fleet is to exercise for general quarters; "two" means the actual alarm, when the enemy is real. There was one rocket. We frequently have general night alarms, but the men are not yet accustomed to them. _April 21st._--We are entering the bay. A torpedo-boat will only go to-morrow for the telegrams. That means that we can only then count on knowing something about the third fleet. For the dispatch of letters, evidently, we have to turn to the German collier. We ourselves can do nothing, like helpless children, although there is a post-office at hand. My servant Golovko is transferred to another ship. He came to me and nearly cried. He asked me to verify my things. Of course, I did not do that. _April 22nd._--I have not been able to write to you earlier to-day. I have been visiting ships. I went on board the _Irtish_. The atmosphere there is heavy. The first lieutenant is to be tried for some nonsense with the captain, by a special court. It is appointed for the 24th inst. When I was in the _Gromky_ a boat came to her in which were two adult Annamese and three boys. The boys ranged themselves in a row, folded their hands with the palms together (prayer fashion), and bowed down to their feet. I asked what they were doing. "They beg that we should buy them," was the answer. Perhaps the boys did not beg quite so much, but the traffic in children is beyond doubt. Boys, they say, are valued at five or ten francs, considerably cheaper than a pig. There were some occasions when children were bought, and they tried to make servants of them. These experiments nearly always ended badly. The boys were spoilt, and it was difficult to get rid of them. Our captain, to whom I related the affair in the torpedo-boat, took it into his head that I wanted to buy a boy, and began to reprove me severely. With great difficulty I assured him that I did not want to buy any one. It would be a nice thing to arrive home with a ten- or twelve-year-old Chinaman! A suspicious thing has occurred. The French admiral, whom the captain of the _Bodry_ saw to-day, spoke of the movements and stations of the French men-of-war in great detail, but not a word did he mention about the torpedo-boats which ought to pass Van Fong. The _Donskoi_, which was patrolling with the _Ural_, at about two o'clock saw two torpedo-boats going north. At first they were without colours, but afterwards hoisted French. The _Donskoi_ was satisfied, and did not trouble to go nearer them. The torpedo-boats passed unimpeded. The admiral and others are convinced that they were Japanese. The rays of a searchlight are seen sometimes from the side of the open sea. It is evidently from a warship. The _Donskoi_ reports that she sees the rays, and that is all. Whose can they be? If they are the _Ural's_, what is her reason for being silent? Taken in conjunction with the appearance of the torpedo-boats by day, these rays are very suspicious, even if it is the _Ural_. If she has lighted up, it means that either she has seen or suspected something wrong. The whole fleet are ordered to increase their attention. Had the _Donskoi_ gone nearer to the torpedo-boats which hoisted French colours, the affair would have been clearer. If they were Japanese, how they will jeer at our foolish confidence! We saw the colours and were satisfied. As if it is difficult to hoist whichever flag you please! _April 23rd._--To-day is the Empress's name-day. We had prayers and a salute. All this time Annamese boats have been lying near our ships. You should have seen how they fled when the firing began. Gradually everything is going. I have begun to carry tobacco for rolling cigarettes in old envelopes. It is more convenient than having it in a cigar-case. There is no news of Nebogatoff. The officers in the _Aurora_ have started a totalisator on his arrival. The following idea is worrying me. Only vessels of less than seventy-five feet in width can enter the Vladivostok dock. I cannot say if this is true. Our new battleships (_Suvaroff_, _Alexander_, _Borodino_, and _Orel_) have a width of seventy-six feet. If it is so, in case of necessity it will be impossible to put them into dock. For some reason the width and measures of the docks are considered a secret, and do not find a place in books of naval inquiry, so that no one remembers the measures. God grant that my fears are not justified! The duty cruiser patrolling reports that she sees three ships moving together in one direction. She is ordered at any moment to go at full speed. _April 24th._--Lights are moving near the bay. The patrol steamer signals some confused message. Can these ships be relied on? It is said that the captain of one of them does not conceal his desire to disarm. He does not conduct himself as he should under the eyes of the flagship. For instance, he is ordered to patrol three miles from the shore, and he goes out thirty. Our fleet with its necessities appears to him to be something hostile. For some reason there exists a presentiment among many that of the four new battleships the _Alexander III._ will perish during the war. At last Nebogatoff declares himself. A torpedo-boat which went to Natrang to-day brought a telegram saying that the third fleet passed Singapore at 4 a.m. on the 22nd, and that she would join us on the 27th. Evidently all is well with it. Where has it been lingering a whole week? From Penang to Singapore is only a three days' journey. It means we shall soon leave here. Probably my foreboding about the number eight will come to pass. I forget if I told you that it seems to me that the number eight will play a great _rôle_ in the fate of our fleet. The French admiral (Janquières), who is so friendly towards us, has sent the admiral some poetry composed by himself about Port Arthur and Stössel. I wonder in what condition the third fleet will arrive? What news will it bring? Will there be any mails, and of what date? Will it bring us tobacco, paper, and cigarettes. It left Russia more than four months after we did. When it started we were already at Nosi Be. We have had absolutely no news from Manchuria. What is going on there? Janquières, the French admiral, has arrived in the _Guichen_, and has proposed that we should leave Van Fong. To-morrow we shall probably go to the bay that was examined not long ago by the _Roland_. The _Guichen_ has just left. There are many in her down with fever. Owing to this the band did not play. Thanks to all the conferences, we were late for dinner. To-morrow the _Jemchug_, _Isumrud_, _Dnieper_, and _Rion_ are going to meet the third fleet, in order to inform it of our whereabouts. When reporting the approach of a French warship, the captain of an auxiliary cruiser innocently asked if he should examine her. I am curious to know how he would examine a warship. There are many similar cases of sharp wit, and frequently no attention is paid to such pranks. The more I hear of the personnel and the morale in the Port Arthur fleet, the less astonished I am at its destruction, and the less pitiable it seems to me. The greatest pity is the loss of the ships. The steamer _Eridan_, under French colours, arrived from Saigon with provisions at 9.30 a.m. I was not expecting anything, when suddenly a sailor came and handed me your letters. Apparently Günsburg sent them to Saigon under cover to his brother Mess (the real surname of the Günsburgs is Mess). I was quite beside myself with joy. I am still more delighted at receiving news that is only a month old. At that moment the flag diving-officer came into my cabin on business. I scarcely remember what I said to him. There were very few letters. I was the only one of the staff who received any. To-day is a red-letter day for me. I sat down to write to you, when the senior staff-officer, S----, came and proposed that I should take 1,000 cigarettes off him, out of the 4,000 he had received. They are Russian cigarettes that M. Mess sent. I am set up in smokes for a long time now. Captain Pollis, who has recently been our secret agent in Batavia, arrived in the _Eridan_, and also Lieutenant M----, who broke out of Port Arthur in a torpedo-boat shortly before its fall. They will both remain in the fleet. The _Eridan_ leaves to-day. It will be nice to send a letter by her. _April 25th._--After receiving your letters I rushed about the _Suvaroff_, and decided to go to the _Borodino_. When I arrived there the captain was asleep. They woke him. We sat down, and drank tea, and he gave me sweets. He began to plan how we should travel about Europe together after the war is over. We sat down with a tantalus and chatted. Just then they brought him letters from the _Suvaroff_. It was a pity I did not know there was a mail for him. I might have brought it with me. It so happened that fate gladdened only two officers with news from home. In the _Suvaroff_ I was the only happy one. To-day was a holiday for me indeed. At six o'clock I went back to the _Suvaroff_ in the _Borodino's_ mining cutter, and to my horror found that the mail had already been sent to the _Eridan_. I stuck a 5-franc stamp on to my letter. Other people gave me some of theirs, and I made up a large packet, addressing it to M. Mess. I then sent it by boat to the _Eridan_, which might at any moment get up anchor and go to Saigon. The Annamese are queer people. They value brass and silver buttons at more than five francs each. The crew, of course, profit by this, settle their accounts with buttons, and trade in them also. The third fleet has not yet arrived, but letters have been received for it _viâ_ Günsburg. There will be a mail in it for us. I count on receiving thirty-three letters from you. Do you remember I told you I was afraid that Günsburg's steamer _Regina_ would fall into the hands of the Japanese. It seems that she was wrecked in the Mozambique Channel. _April 26th._--We did not weigh anchor in time to-day. The French cruiser came again to drive us out. A message has been received from the _Vladimir Monomach_, which is ahead of Nebogatoff's fleet, that they are coming in complete array. We shall soon be joined by them. I am curious to know what sort of a fleet it is, what its morale is like, and what sort of captains. Many of them are laughed at. They are famous for their war service; but war changes men, and good ones are sometimes found among the bad, and _vice versa_. 2 p.m.--The smoke, masts, and funnels of Nebogatoff's fleet have appeared. Every one is in a great state of excitement, and rushes to the bridge. Binoculars are brought up on deck. At last we shall proceed. There is no need to wait longer. When the signalling began, we asked the _Monomach_ the name of her first lieutenant, to make certain that she was not a Japanese ship. She replied, and asked the _Suvaroff_ the same question. The _Dnieper_, it appears, saw the third fleet last night; but fearing that it was the Japanese, hastily retreated. She was sent in order to join herself to Nebogatoff. I am going on the bridge. The fleets are just joining. They are nearing each other. They are beginning to salute. 10 p.m.--O Lord, I do not know how to begin! My head is completely silly. I do not know what to say. I am happy, satisfied, glad. I want to tell you everything, and am afraid shall not succeed. I shall get confused and forget. As Nebogatoff's fleet approached we all crowded on deck. I put on my new cap for the great occasion. First came the _Apraxin_. Could I have thought when I was working in her five years ago that I should see her here! How strange the _Apraxin_, _Ushakoff_, and _Seniavin_ seemed! So short, and such long funnels! They reminded me of overgrown children with angular limbs. At four o'clock Nebogatoff came on board the _Suvaroff_. He greeted Rojdestvensky with a kiss. The staff were invited to drink champagne to the happy union of the fleets. At table Nebogatoff spoke of his voyage and its success. His ships steamed ideally, without breakdowns. At night his fleet steamed without lights. Every one was informed about his arrival at Penang. His passage through the straits of Malacca took him two days and a half. They brought a mail in the cutter which brought Nebogatoff from the _Nicolai I._ to the _Suvaroff_. Though it is not customary to get up from the admiral's table, I could not sit there long, and left to examine the mail. It was already sorted in heaps. My mail had been taken to my cabin. I ran there, and did not know which to open first--the letters or parcels. I opened the parcels. There were socks, handkerchiefs, shoulder-straps, sweets, cigarettes, soap, eau-de-Cologne, scents, brushes, etc. My eyes opened wide. My servant helped me to sort and wipe everything. It was all stuck together. How joyfully I separated all this! Indeed, I cannot say all I feel at present. I must calm myself. The eau-de-Cologne and scents have travelled well. The jam, although it was soldered up, leaked. The cigarettes are a little spoilt, but they can be smoked. Newspapers I could not read. I only read the parts marked by you. I am writing in broken sentences. Perhaps to-morrow I shall have to send this letter; now my head is in a whirl. _April 27th._--Perhaps the _Kostroma_, which has not joined the fleet yet, will bring another mail. You see how spoilt I am. My head is stupid to-day, but I am so pleased and happy at having received all you sent me. I wanted to write to you, when two torpedo-boats collided--the _Grosny_ and _Bezuprechny_. They must be quickly repaired. We are at sea, and the torpedo-boats are in harbour thirty versts away. 4 p.m.--I sat a long time in the whaler, waiting an opportunity to go to the _Buistry_. She took me to Port Dayot Bay, where some of the fleet are lying. I go back to the _Suvaroff_ at dawn. The fleet in general received few mails. Every one is complaining, but I am satisfied. I saw an officer in a torpedo-boat washing a tunic for himself. It was a strange sight. _April 28th._--My work in the _Bezuprechny_ was successfully carried out. I returned to the fleet in the torpedo-boat _Bodry_. We met the fleet returning to Van Fong Bay to coal, as the open sea was rough. We leave here to-morrow morning. The French sternly drive us away, but we stay on. It is impertinence. Port Dayot is really the same as Van Fong, as it is a gulf joined to it by a wide strait. It is very beautiful. The shores are hilly and covered with thick wood. In the corner of the bay lies a wrecked French gunboat, which is being dismantled. There are a lot of goats, peacocks, monkeys, elephants, and wild beasts on shore. Yesterday I dined in the _Bezuprechny_. The night was calm. They brought officers over from the neighbouring boats. They all live in a very friendly way. It is their custom to give each other presents on their names-days and birthdays. Sometimes the presents are very curious ones. They invited me to spend the night, but I refused. I went to the _Kamchatka_. A cabin was ready for me there, but I preferred spending the night half-sitting in a long chair, in the fresh air on deck. At six o'clock a torpedo-boat came for me. In the _Kamchatka_ they begged me to take several things to the _Suvaroff_. I did not do so. Yesterday, in the hospital-ship _Orel_, the crew were sent into the hold for something. There were poisonous gases, and they began to suffocate. All except one escaped. The deceased was buried to-day. The shoulder-straps you sent me are not uniform. They are an ensign's. I made a present of them to an engineer, Krimer. He was so pleased that he treated the wardroom to champagne. I did not like to give them away, but persuaded myself that I must not be a dog in the manger. I treated some of the others to the almond cake. It smells somewhat strange, and some insects like beetles have established themselves in it. We move on to Vladivostok the day after to-morrow. Many fear danger. After your letters I feel bold, and look to the future with hope. There is an idea that the Japanese fleet will not fight a fleet action until we arrive off Vladivostok. They will feign torpedo attacks, while in the meantime they will cut us off by land. Who can foretell the events? For God's sake do not be anxious at not receiving letters or telegrams for a very long time. We are passing along uninhabited shores. Letters will be sent as occasions offer. Our postal arrangements are bad. Some of your letters to me are lost, and some of your October letters I have only just received. _April 29th._--We went to sea early this morning. A steamer passed close to the fleet, making an attempt to escape. Our torpedo-boats and scouting cruiser overtook her. She hoisted English colours. We only questioned, and did not examine her. She said she was going from Japan to the south, carrying coolies. We let her go. We remain tossing on the sea. We shall leave here either to-morrow evening or day after. It is said that the hospital-ship will not join the fleet at all. Do you know, the number of ships in the fleet is now fifty-two? Some of the transports are at Saigon, or it would have been greater still. _April 30th._--The _Kostroma_ has come, with a mail, it seems. FOOTNOTES: [17] In 1898 the battleship _General Admiral Apraxin_ went ashore off Gothland, and Politovsky superintended the work of getting her off. [18] Easter puddings. [19] Easter greeting, "Christ is risen." CHAPTER XII PREPARING FOR BATTLE _May 1st._--The _Kostroma_ called at Saigon and brought a mail. The last letter I received was dated March 28th. It is quick. And all because Günsburg sent it on. All the ships have received an enormous mail. They were a long time sorting it. To-day, May 1st, we left Port Dayot for Vladivostok. We go by the South China Sea. Our fleet now consists of fifty ships. Of these, nine are torpedo-boats, and two hospital-ships--a great armada. Probably we shall go round Formosa, and through the straits of Korea. There will hardly be a fleet action before Vladivostok. We must expect submarine boats and frantic torpedo-boat attacks. _May 2nd._--Our course is so laid that when we have passed the southern extremity of Formosa we shall go to the east of it. At night we crossed the only course by which ships usually go from north to south. We met two steamers. They will report the course chosen by the fleet. Now we are moving in a part of the China Sea by which ships do not usually go. They are beginning to talk about coaling. They wish to arrange it to-morrow morning. The torpedo-boats are being towed by the transports. Meanwhile, there are no mishaps or breakdowns. 9 p.m.--The battleship _Orel_ has delayed us for a short time. Something was damaged in her. Our course is shaped between Formosa and Luzon, one of the Philippine Islands. It is exactly seven months to-day since the fleet left Russia. The sea is almost calm, and the ports can be kept open without danger. Hiding the lights, we are steaming with only a limited number. A collision would be difficult, as it is a bright, moonlight night. At present everything is going quietly. I rose to-day at nearly 9 a.m., was late for breakfast, and had to have it alone in my cabin. _May 4th._--To-morrow we coal--probably the last coaling at sea. It is proposed that when the coal from the _Tamboff_ and _Mercury_ has been taken, they shall leave the fleet and return to Saigon. It will be possible to send letters by them. Near Shanghai the remaining transports will leave us. Only the naval ones will remain (_Kamchatka_, _Irtish_, and _Anadir_), and the _Korea_, in which are war stores. If this is carried out, the admiral himself will seek a fleet action with the Japanese fleet before our arrival at Vladivostok. 10 p.m.--They are receiving signs at the telegraph (wireless) station. No one attaches any importance to them. In the ship it is surprisingly quiet. They were more perturbed when the English cruisers surrounded us in the Atlantic. I am quite composed and do not worry. Gulls are seen; the shore is not far off. The moon is shining, and it is as bright as day. By such light it will be difficult for torpedo-boats to attack, but convenient for submarines. The sea is calm. Soon it will not be so hot. To-morrow the sun will be at its zenith--for us, the sixth and last time. Formosa is near. All are interested in it. With luck we shall be at Vladivostok in twelve or fifteen days. All my preparations for battle consist in putting my things in order. Coaling will begin at 6 a.m., if the weather permits. At Port Dayot, not only did the transport _Gustave Lerche_, and the water-tank steamer _Count Stroganoff_, leave the fleet, but also the transport _Keenia_. The latter is a floating workshop. Was it worth while bringing her here? She has little speed, and the workmen say is badly fitted out. I have not been there. It so happens that I have not been on board any of the ships that came with Nebogatoff. _May 5th_ (8 a.m.).--The fleet is coaling. The sea is calm, but the swell is so great that the battleships are rolling. It is hot. Very soon it will be cold. How shall we stand it after the tropics? There will be a large number of sick. _May 6th._--_South China Sea._ Yesterday the _Tamboff_ and _Mercury_ went to Saigon. The mail was given to the latter. When the coaling was finished, the fleet went on full speed ahead. In the evening I drew the disposition of all ships for a lithographic stone, in the event of floating mines being observed. It is proposed to send the _Rion_, _Dnieper_, _Kuban_, and _Terek_ one after another for cruiser operations. They decided not to send the _Ural_, as they do not trust her. It was her captain who openly boasted about disarming. Last night I sat on the after-bridge, and waited the result of the _Oleg's_ chase after a steamer. After conversing with those around I fell asleep. At one o'clock I woke, and went to sleep in my cabin. It would have been worth while waiting a little longer. At two o'clock the _Oleg_ reported that, on examination, it proved that the steamer, as the captain explained, had no documents. He himself did not know all her cargo. There was kerosene. She was going to Japan from New York. The heavily laden steamer was ordered to be brought to the fleet, was arrested as suspicious, and sent to Vladivostock for examination by the prize court. A crew of our men and petty officers were placed on board. One of them from the _Suvaroff_ was appointed captain. The former captain and engineer were left in the steamer as passengers--of course, without any authority. The rest of the crew were brought to our ships. On being questioned, they gave different evidence. Several sailors affirmed that there were guns and ammunition among the cargo. One sailor, at the very beginning, when he was out of his captain's sight, showed with his hands that there was something round in the steamer. It was difficult to find out where the steamer came from. They all named different ports. The steamer (_Oldhamia_) will go with our crew to Vladivostok, _viâ_ the Sungari Straits. Is this a good thing? The Japanese may chance upon her on her way. Would it not have been simpler to make certain that she carries contraband, take her crew from her, and sink her? Her capture wasted a lot of time. All the fleet lay motionless until twelve noon. She was provisioned, coaled, and the crew transferred, etc. She had very little coal, not enough to get her to Vladivostok. They began to coal her from the _Livonia_, a transport which came with Nebogatoff. From twelve noon we went at a slow pace--twelve knots. The _Livonia_ is going alongside the captured steamer, to which she is made fast, and is coaling her. How we love to make a secret of everything--not unfrequently to our disadvantage! Our staff have telegrams giving the names of the steamers going to Japan with contraband goods. These telegrams were needed to-day to see if the captured vessel was not among the ships indicated. The telegrams proved to be confidential, and had been placed in a safe, which was hidden in the event of a fight. What is the use of telling us at all, if we, considering it confidential, do not make use of our evidence? It is astonishing! They should have published the names of steamers with contraband throughout the fleet, in order that each ship should know about them. But with us this is a "great secret." It is simply inconceivable. To conceal the names of steamers serving in the interest of Russia is sensible, but to hide from our own people the names of the friends of Japan is simply folly. It is always and everywhere thus with us. When they were busied with the _Oldhamia_ in the morning, two more steamers were perceived, one laden and the other empty. One of them was conducted to the fleet by the _Jemchug_. Of course, it was the empty one. She was under Norwegian colours, belonged to Bergen; her name was _Oscar II._ She went off to Japan. She had already served Japan for two years (some company). We let her go. She audaciously cut through the line of our ships. Perhaps she was purposely sent by Japan as a scout. She can now inform them where she saw us. She may have taken some photographs, and counted the ships. Even if she has not been sent purposely, she will nevertheless make known our position. We have lost and wasted much time. This loss does not pay. We are wasting the bright, moonlight nights. On the occasion of the Emperor's birthday a salute was fired, and there were prayers. Sorting out my books, I found a clean notebook and copy-book. They came at an opportune moment, as I had finished the last. 7 p.m.--They are beginning to swear at having let the _Oscar_ go without examining her. The weather is beginning to be doubtful. Perhaps there will be a typhoon. The fleet will suffer severely. They have just published a list of vessels which are known to be carrying contraband to Japan. Of course, the list only contains a portion of them. What have they not in them! Horses, guns, projectiles, powder, gun-cotton, explosives, blankets, milk, rails, engines, cables, iron, steel, copper, armour plates, conserves, rifles, grenades, shrapnel, wire, steam cutters, railway material. One steamer is specially fitted for raising our ships sunk at Port Arthur! _May 7th._--_Pacific Ocean._ The fleet is in the Pacific. For some reason it is also called the "Great." We passed by the islands of the Batan (_sic_) group. They say there are volcanoes there. I did not see them from the ship. The motion of the sea interfered with the coaling of the captured steamer. If the coal does not last her to Vladivostok, she is ordered to call at Korsakovsky port (in Sagalien). There are still two hundred of our men, who were coaling, on board her. Owing to the motion they could not be taken off. They will try to take them off to-morrow. There are about 2,800 versts left to Vladivostok. Yesterday I began to prepare for battle. My preparations were very simple. I opened a trunk, and without more ado thrust in everything--ikons, letters, and photographs of you. _May 8th._--To-morrow we are again to coal at sea. Will there soon be an end of this coaling bacchanalia? To-day we pass the Tropic of Cancer, and leave the tropics. When I slept last night the rats began to gnaw my toes. I am heartily tired of this kind of life, with its dirt and hardships. The _Oldhamia_ has left the fleet, and will go alone to Vladivostok or Korsakovsky port, or even to Petropavlovsk, if fogs interfere. The _Kuban_ was left by her, to give her a hundred tons of coal, if it is possible. The _Oldhamia_ will then go on shore, and the _Kuban_ will cruise about to capture contraband. The _Oldhamia_ is a new ship; her construction was only finished last year. She was occupied earlier with contraband. She took something for Japan to Dalny, and for the Russians to Vladivostok. At first the captain of the _Oldhamia_ behaved in a very off-hand manner. He jeered at us, and praised the Japanese. He did not expect we would take him from his steamer. When it was explained that he would be taken, he sang another tune, and even cried on leaving her. The English who remained succeeded in playing a dirty trick. They opened the Kingstons in the engine-room, and the steamer began to sink. Our crew quickly found the open Kingston, and closed it. They also tore off the marks of the stocks showing where each stock goes. Our men had to find out. Yesterday, when our crew were at the boilers, there was nearly an explosion. An engineer averted the accident. Of course, the English would not have succeeded in opening the Kingston or tearing off the instructions had it not been for our folly. It is clear as day that the English should have been followed about, and not allowed for one moment either in the engine or boiler compartments. Up to the present we have not been able to find any contraband. All the holds where forbidden cargo might lie are encumbered with a vast quantity of tins of kerosene. All the tins must be taken out to get below. 9 p.m.--About noon the _Jemchug_ reported that she could see a balloon above her. Other ships also saw it. Those who saw it in the _Suvaroff_ say it was like a snake in shape. We are going past Formosa. There is no sight or sound of the Japanese. _May 9th._--Coaling did not take place. The weather was rather rough. I slept in the upper stern cabin. The _Terek_ has left the fleet, on a cruise to catch steamers. The weather is gloomy. It is not so hot. Several men have already caught colds. Admiral Folkersham's health is bad. He will probably not reach Vladivostok alive. 9 p.m.--_North China Sea._ We have left the Pacific and entered the North China Sea. We are going in the direction of Shanghai, where our transports were sent. It is impossible to let them go alone, now. There are Japanese ships at Shanghai, watching that our disarmed ships do not escape. We passed by Formosa--passed by part of the small Japanese islands. Vladivostok is getting nearer and nearer. We have only to cross the North China Sea and the straits of Korea to enter the sea of Japan, on the shores of which is the long-desired Vladivostok. What are the Japanese doing? Where are they? No doubt preparing a hearty welcome for us. There will probably be frantic torpedo attacks in the straits of Korea. The moon rises late and makes the night attacks easier. Will there be a fleet action? Probably it will be more advantageous for Japan to give battle on arrival at Vladivostok. Our fleet has made a great voyage and is bound to protect the transports. Probably Japanese mines have been placed at Vladivostok. In seven days the whole world will be talking about our fleet. After sunset the crew are ordered to put on flannel jerseys. It is proposed to-morrow to carry out the coaling, which did not take place to-day. Perhaps it may be possible to send letters to one of the transports going to Shanghai. There is apparently an opportunity of sending a mail, but no one evidently is preparing to take advantage of it. _May 10th._--_North China Sea._ The weather is gloomy, but calm, and rather cold. The captain of the _Irtish_ reports that she cannot go more than eight and a half knots. What can be done now with that transport? If she goes to Shanghai, she will have to disarm and be inactive till the end of the war, as she is under the naval flag. If she is taken with the fleet, she will be an extra burden. I have to send off these pages myself. I can find no one wishing to send letters home. They say they will send them from Vladivostok. In the first place, will they be able to send them from Vladivostok; and secondly, it is uncertain if they get there any quicker. There are 1,200 miles, 2,100 versts, left to Vladivostok. Under favourable circumstances we shall make this passage in six or seven days. NOTE BY MADAME POLITOVSKY These were the last pages which were sent from Shanghai, and received by me (his wife) in the month of June. During the battle Engineer E. S. Politovsky was below, as the battleship _Kniaz Suvaroff_ had had a hole made in her, and he was probably giving instructions for its repair. The flag-captain saw him last in the sick-bay. "How are things going?" asked Politovsky. "Very badly," answered the flag-captain. Soon after this some of the staff left the battleship in the torpedo-boat _Biedovy_. Those who were below were not called. There was no need of them. They saved the "valuable" life of Admiral Rojdestvensky. APPENDIX Telegram from Tokio, dated May 30th, to Japanese Legation (vide _Times_, June 1st, 1906). The official statement of the Russian losses in the battle were as follows, so far as ascertained: _Prince Suvaroff_ } _Alexander III._ } _Borodino_ } Battleships sunk. _Sissoi Veliky_ } _Oslyabya_ } _Navarin_ } _Admiral Nachimoff_ } _Dimitry Donskoi_ } Cruisers _Vladimir Monomach_ } sunk. _Svietlana_ } _Ushakoff_, coast defence } _Irtish_ } Sunk. _Kamchatka_, repair ship } Three torpedo-boats } _Orel_, battleship } _Nicolai I._, " } _Biedovy_, torpedo-boat } Captured. _General Admiral Apraxin_ } _Admiral Seniavin_ } The _Almaz_ reached Vladivostok; the _Oleg_, _Aurora_, and _Jemchug_ fled to Manilla; the _Isumrud_ also escaped, and some torpedo-boats. PRINTED BY HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD. LONDON AND AYLESBURY. Transcriber's Notes Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired. Inconsistent hyphenation fixed. The _Orel_ was the name of both a battleship and a hospital ship. P. 88: If she has not suffered shipweck -> If she has not suffered shipwreck. P. 110: An unfortunate accident occured -> An unfortunate accident occurred. P. 149: From the post-office went round -> From the post-office I went round. P. 196: to dose a little -> to doze a little. P. 208: a collison will infallibly take place -> a collision will infallibly take place. P. 241: especially the boilders -> especially the boilers. P. 265: Kanranh -> Kamranh. P. 278: hurring to the stations -> hurrying to the stations. P. 298: a slow place -> a slow pace. 
51066	----	https://archive.org/details/japanrussiawaril00tyle Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). [Illustration: A SILENCED GUN IN PORT ARTHUR.] THE JAPAN-RUSSIA WAR An Illustrated History of the War in the Far East The Greatest Conflict of Modern Times by SYDNEY TYLER War Correspondent and Author of "The Spanish War," "The War in South Africa," Etc., Etc. Illustrated by Photographs and Drawings Made by Eye-Witnesses P. W. Ziegler Co. Philadelphia Copyright, 1905, by Sydney Tyler ------------------------------------------------------------------------ INTRODUCTION. The Japan-Russia War goes into history as the greatest military struggle the world has known. Its story, therefore, rivals in interest those of the great wars of the past which have been an unceasing inspiration in every field of art and literature. The political machinations of great and little kings, of famed prime ministers, of peoples and states have attracted attention in more or less limited circles, but the world's wars have appealed to every class and rank. The world's vast army of readers have never wearied of the classic stories of feats of arms by men and armies told of the dawning days of world history; the tales of later map-making struggles of Asia, of Europe, of America, have never grown old or dull. So in the Orient of to-day. The great political battles which have centred about China and Japan for the last half century have interested the few. But to-day the attention of the world is centred on the lands bordering the Pacific, because a war has waged; because the whole human family loves the stories of valorous deeds, of military achievement, of the history-making that is done with the sword. The purpose of this volume is to bring American readers face to face with the events of the struggle of such stupendous magnitude, now drawn to a close. From battlefield to battlefield the author carries his thrilling narrative, bringing the scenes before the mind's eye as only one could do who stood within sound of the roaring guns, within sight of the onrush of resistless battalions, elbow to elbow with Japan's brilliant history makers. From the opening of the struggle to its close there was never a moment when stupendous events were not either in the process of making or so imminent that the civilized world held its breath. A single year's campaign in Manchuria and around famed Port Arthur furnish three land battles, greater in the number engaged in the awful cost of life, in the period of duration, than is presented by all of the pages of history. The siege of Port Arthur has no duplicate among all recorded military achievements. The opening of the second year of the war added a battle, that at Mukden, so vast, so brilliant from the standpoint of the victors, so disastrous from the standpoint of the defeated, that it has been accorded by masters of strategy a niche by itself in the chronicles of war. The author saw this wonderful panorama of events unfolded. His story bristles with dramatic touches, flashes of enlightening description that bring the scene home to the reader with a vividness that thrills. American readers have a more immediate interest in the struggle than the universal love of the stories of battle. With Japan victor over Russia, with the great Muscovite Empire deprived of a foothold on the Pacific, Japan and America remain the only Powers there to divide the rich spoils of Oriental commerce. Our possessions, the Philippines, are Japan's nearest neighbors, and their proximity to Japan, their bearing upon the Asiatic problem open the way for events of more than ordinary importance, if not of seriousness. Already the statement has been made that Japan covets these Islands. Will the United States, one day be called upon to go to war in their behalf? The question is one which no American can ignore. The nation must educate itself to decide one day, the issue, for or against a struggle with this wonderful little Empire, the Great Britain of Asia. The volume, therefore, in addition to its value and interest as a chronicle of a marvelous series of bloody battles is educational, the pioneer, blazing the way to an appreciation of events, of possibilities for our own country which lie in the story of Japan's overwhelming success. Will the Mikado come to believe that having humbled and crushed what was Europe's mightiest Power, he can as readily drive from the Pacific the American Republic? The author in this volume has even more completely demonstrated his genius as a chronicler of war than in any of his earlier efforts. Step by step he followed the British in Africa and at the conclusion of that struggle contributed to British literature a history which was generally conceded to have been more accurate, more graphic, less warped by prejudices than any other. Step by step he followed the unfolding of our own Spanish war and the story of that struggle as told by Mr. Tyler became at once the standard not only in Great Britain, but in the several Continental countries in which it appeared. With the priceless experience of these two wars to ably equip him, Mr. Tyler has contributed one more narrative of a great war to military literature and the assertion is unhesitatingly made that it will not be equalled by any of the hosts of volumes destined to be written of this memorable war. Along with the author went his camera. To that fact the reader is indebted to a series of illustrations never before attempted in the portrayal of military campaigns. What little the author has left to the imagination is supplied by these graphic pictures that bridge nine thousand miles and bring the sights and almost the sounds of battle to the reader. In brief, this volume as a description of the succeeding struggles of the Japan-Russia War, for accuracy, graphic qualities, detail and literary finish; for its educational value and significance, for the hitherto unattempted excellence of its illustration is presented to the American public with confidence that an appreciative reception will not possibly be denied. THE PUBLISHERS. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ TABLE OF CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Causes of the War 13 CHAPTER II. The First Blow 39 CHAPTER III. The Korean Campaign 69 CHAPTER IV. Naval Operations 101 CHAPTER V. Sinking of the "Petropavlovsk" 133 CHAPTER VI. Battle of the Yalu 167 CHAPTER VII. Cutting off Port Arthur 197 CHAPTER VIII. The Assault that Failed 225 CHAPTER IX. Battle of Liaoyang 257 CHAPTER X. Naval Battle off Port Arthur 289 CHAPTER XI. Battle of the Sha-ho 317 CHAPTER XII. The North Sea Outrage 347 CHAPTER XIII. Surrender of Port Arthur 379 CHAPTER XIV. The First Year of the War 409 CHAPTER XV. After Port Arthur 430 CHAPTER XVI. In Winter Quarters 453 CHAPTER XVII. The Battle of Mukden 467 CHAPTER XVIII. Retreat towards Harbin 497 CHAPTER XIX. The Battle of the Japan Sea 523 CHAPTER XX. The Treaty of Peace 557 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Page A Silenced Gun at Port Arthur Frontispiece Japanese Infantry Attacking a Chinese Position 21 Map Showing the Area Affected by the Dispute 25 The Japanese at Port Arthur 27 Battle of the Yalu--Sinking of the Chih-yuen 38 Japanese and Russian Admirals 48 Japanese Generals 57 Russian Generals 68 The Harbor of Port Arthur 71 Russian Fleet Trying to Leave Port Arthur 77 Russian and Japanese Destroyers at Close Quarters 88 The Czar 97 The Mikado 97 Raid by the Vladivostock Fleet 107 The Tokio Military Hospital--Officers Quarters 118 Sketch Plan of Port Arthur's Main Fortifications 121 Funeral Procession of a Japanese Officer in Yokohama 125 A Skirmish Between Japanese and Russian Cavalry 129 Desolation in Manchuria 140 Blowing up of the Petropavlovsk 145 Arrival of a Dispatch for General Kuropatkin 152 Russian Concentration on the Yalu 161 Map Showing the Actions on the Yalu, April 29th-May 1st 169 Hauling a Japanese Howitzer into Position under Fire 171 Russians Collecting Wounded on the Night after the Battle 182 A Last Gallant Stand of Russian Gunners 191 After Three Months 199 In the Russian Trenches 202 A Desperate Encounter at Port Arthur 211 General Stoessel Exhorting his Troops in the Defence of Port Arthur 222 Outside Port Arthur 227 A Skirmish on the Manchurian Railway 234 Russians Charging Japanese Trenches at Port Arthur 243 After Four Months 247 Russian Priest in the Trenches with General Stackelberg's Army 250 General Nogi before Port Arthur 257 After Five Months 261 Food for the Japanese Army 265 Map Showing Territory Adjacent to Liaoyang 269 After Six Months 273 Death of Count Keller at Yang-Ze-Ling Pass 275 The Six Days' Action Around Liaoyang, Aug. 29-Sept. 3d 281 Map Showing Route of March and Principal Actions of the Four Japanese Armies, Feb. 7th-Sept. 4th 283 Japanese Assault on a Russian Position at Liaoyang 286 Russians Recapturing their Lost Guns at Liaoyang 295 On the Deck of the "Rurik" 307 After Seven Months 313 Capture of the "Reshitelni" at Chifu 316 Japanese Outpost Relieving Guard near the Sha-ho 325 Japanese Scaling Fort at Port Arthur 335 The Remnant of a Regiment After the Battle of the Sha-ho 347 Huge Siege Guns before Port Arthur 355 Thirsty Japanese Troops Crossing the Sha-ho 366 Fight in Street of Lin-Shin-Pu, Battle of Sha-ke River 375 Port Arthur and the Surrounding Forts 381 Hauling Guns Up a Captured Hill at Port Arthur 386 Japanese Eleven-Inch Mortar before Port Arthur 396 The Evacuation of Port Arthur 405 After Twelve Months 408 Cossacks in Retreat After a Reconnaissance Near Liaoyang 415 The Garrison of Port Arthur--Leaving the Fortress 426 The Bamboo Gun at Port Arthur 435 On the Slopes of Ojikeishan before Port Arthur 446 A Night Attack on a Russian Position 455 Japanese Troops Caught in Barbed Wire Entanglement 466 Map of the Battle of Mukden 469 Russian Retreat in Manchuria 475 Russian Suffering after the Battle of Mukden 486 On Board a Japanese Battle ship during the Battle of the Japan Sea 496 The Russian Fleet in the Battle of the Japan Sea 505 The Retreat from Mukden 519 Peace Envoys in Session at Portsmouth 556 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Japan-Russia War CHAPTER I. Two Irreconcilable Destinies--Progress v. Stagnation--Europe's Danger--Insatiable Russia--A Warm Water Port--Japan's Warlike Progress--The Chino-Japanese War--Russia's "Honor"--M. Pavloff--Russia in China--The Russo-Chinese Bank--The Mailed Fist--Russian "Leases"--Benevolent Professions--Wei-Hai-Wei--Niuchwang Railway--Pavloff in Korea--Russia and Manchuria--Russo-Chinese Treaty--Anglo-Japanese Alliance--Russians in Korea--Japanese Protests--Russia's Discourtesy. Never since the great Napoleonic wars which convulsed Europe a century ago has the world witnessed an appeal to arms so momentous in its issues and so tremendous in its possibilities as that which has just been tried between Russia and Japan in the Far East. The great internecine struggle in the United States in the middle of the last century, the disastrous duel between France and Germany which followed, and England's recently-concluded campaign in South Africa, have each, indeed, left a deep mark upon history. But while their import was at most Continental, if not local, the conflict between Japan and Russia is fraught with consequences which must inevitably be world-wide in scope. There is no civilized Power in either hemisphere whose interests are not more or less directly concerned in the question--Who shall be the dominant Power in the China Seas? For the whole course of the world's development in that quarter must depend on whether the mastery remains to the obstructive and oppressive Colossus of the North or to the progressive and enlightened island-Empire which, like Pallas in Pagan myth, has sprung fully armed from an ancient civilization into the very van of modern progress. It was no mere dynastic jealousy or racial animosity that brought about this fateful collision. It was the inevitable antagonism of two irreconcilable destinies. "Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere"; and the ambitions of Russia and the aspirations of Japan cannot find room for fulfilment together. One or the other must be crushed. [Sidenote: Two Irreconcilable Destinies] For Japan, the question is one of national existence. With Russia established in Manchuria and dominating the Yellow Sea, the absorption of Korea becomes a mere matter of time; and then the very independence of Japan would be subject to a perpetual and intolerable menace; while the new life which has dawned for its wonderfully gifted people would be crushed at the outset. But if Japan is fighting for her life, Russia is fighting for something almost as precious--the consummation of an ambition which has been the dream and the fixed goal of her statesmen for more than a generation. The expansion of the Russian Empire has been steadily eastwards; and the further conquest and dominion have spread, the more has the necessity been felt for an outlet to the navigable seas. Unless all the labor and sacrifices of years are to be in vain, and the great Siberian Empire is to remain a mere gigantic _cul-de-sac_, Russia must establish herself permanently in the Gulf of Pechili, and find in its ice-free ports that natural outlet for her trans-continental railway which will enable the life-blood of commerce to circulate through her torpid bulk. The struggle, therefore, was one between two irreconcilable destinies. [Sidenote: Progress v. Stagnation] But if the issue was immediately of such paramount significance to the two combatants, it was only less charged with import for all Asia, Europe and America. The victory of Japan would incontestably give her the predominance in the Far East, commercially as well as politically. Not only would she be a formidable trade rival to the European nations whose methods she has so successfully adopted, but she would be able to influence the conditions under which that trade was carried on. The immensely valuable and as yet imperfectly developed market of China would be practically within her control; and European Powers would no longer be able with impunity to seize naval bases and proclaim exclusive spheres of influence in Chinese territory. On the other hand, if Russia were to emerge victorious from the war, the whole of China would become a mere vassal state, if indeed its integrity could be preserved. Trade would be discouraged and finally extinguished by the exclusive methods of Russian policy, and except on sufferance no other Power could obtain a footing in the Far East. The whole future of this vast region, therefore, hung in the balance, for the battle was between freedom, progress and enlightenment, as represented by Japan, and obscurantism, oppression and stagnation, as represented by Russia. [Sidenote: Europe's Danger] But the anxious concern of the world in this Far Eastern war was based not only upon a calculation of material interests. Every civilized Government had before its eyes the imminent danger of other countries being dragged into the conflict. The situation was such that at any moment some untoward incident might set Europe in a blaze. The specific obligations of France to Russia under the terms of the Dual Alliance, and of Great Britain to Japan under the Treaty of Alliance concluded in 1901, made the limitation of the struggle to the original combatants not only difficult, but even precarious. A breach of neutrality by any third Power would at once have compelled France to join forces with her Russian ally, or Great Britain to come to the assistance of Japan. Such a breach might have been merely trivial or technical, and yet sufficient to give a hard-pressed belligerent ground for calling her ally to her assistance. It might even have been deliberately provoked, in the hope of retrieving disaster by extending the area of conflict; and if the two Western Powers were once dragged into war, no statesman would be bold enough to put a limit to the consequences. Both Germany and the United States are profoundly interested in the Far East and in the issue of this great struggle for predominance; and one or both of them might at any moment have been ranged on one side or the other. From such an Armageddon the factors which determine the balance of power throughout the world, and therefore the development of national destinies, could hardly have emerged without profound modification; and the ultimate establishment of peace would have found many more international rivalries and antagonisms resolved than those which are immediately connected with the Far East. Lord Beaconsfield once said that there were only two events in history--the Siege of Troy and the French Revolution. It seems more than possible that the Russo-Japanese war will have to be reckoned as a third supreme factor in the progress of the world. [Sidenote: Insatiable Russia] The outbreak of the present war became practically inevitable as long ago as 1895, when, on the conclusion of peace between China and Japan the three European Powers--Russia, France and Germany--stepped in and robbed the Mikado and his people of the fruits of their hard-earned victory. From that time up to the present Russia has steadily, and without ceasing, tightened her grip upon the Northern province of the hapless Chinese Empire, and has ended by threatening the independence of Korea, the legitimate sphere of influence of Japan, and the indispensable buffer between herself and the insatiable and ever-advancing Northern Power. [Sidenote: A Warm Water Port] It must be borne in mind that the determining consideration which led Russia to cast longing eyes upon Manchuria--apart from that eternal hunger for territory which is one of her strongest characteristics--was the necessity of acquiring a warm water port as a naval base and commercial harbor. The port of Vladivostock--which, by the way, she acquired from China as early as 1860 by a truly Russian piece of bluff--has proved of little use in this respect, owing to the fact that during the winter months it is almost entirely icebound. A striking illustration of the embarrassment such a state of things must cause was afforded in the course of the present war by the plight into which the Russian Cruiser Squadron stationed there fell. There can be no doubt that the ambitions of the Czar's advisers had for years been directed towards the acquisition of the fortress and harbor of Port Arthur (known to the Chinese as Lu-shun-kau), which situated as it is upon the narrow neck of land at the extreme southernmost point of the Liao-tung Peninsula, should, if properly served by a strong and efficient naval force, dominate the Gulf of Pechili, and prove the most powerful strategic post in Northern China. [Sidenote: Japan's Warlike Progress] It is not known, of course, what path the development of Russian plans in this respect would have followed if they had been allowed to proceed without interruption; but, as it turned out, they were suddenly threatened with a dangerous obstacle in the complete and unexpected success of Japan over China and her capture of the whole of the Liao-tung Peninsula. This short but sanguinary conflict between China and Japan is memorable for having first revealed to the world the amazing progress which Japan had made in her efforts to engraft and assimilate the characteristics of Western civilization. It proved that in less than twenty years Japan had earned for herself an established position in the community of progressive nations. The war also made it possible for the first time to estimate the influence and effect in warlike operations of the tremendous engines of destruction with which modern science has equipped the fleets and armies of to-day. The navy of Japan had been organized on the latest model, and her officers had been trained in British schools; and though China's equipment was not to be compared with that of her antagonist, she possessed several powerful armorclads of the latest type, officered and engineered by experienced Europeans. [Sidenote: The Chino-Japanese War] The salient features of the war were, at sea, the battles of the Yalu River and of Wei-hai-Wei; and on land, the rout of the Chinese at Ping-Yang, the passage of the Yalu and storming of Port Arthur. The first of these in order of time was the battle of Ping-Yang, a town situated near the north-west coast of Korea. Here the Chinese troops under General Tso attempted to prevent the advance of the Japanese towards the Yalu. By a series of skilful movements carried out on September 15th and 16th, 1894, the Japanese Commander-in-Chief, Marshal Yamagata, completely surrounded the Chinese and defeated them with great slaughter, their General himself falling dead upon the field. On the next day the Chinese fleet stationed at the mouth of the Yalu, which had proved entirely ineffective in preventing the landing of the enemy's forces upon Korea, gave battle to the Japanese. The ships of the latter Power were mainly cruisers, but the extraordinary skill with which they were manoeuvred and the rapidity of their fire completely outweighed the advantage possessed by the Chinese Admiral in battleships. He sustained a crushing defeat, and eight of his best vessels were destroyed. In the meanwhile Marshal Yamagata continued his march to the North, and after a bloody but indecisive conflict near Wiju on October 22nd he succeeded in crossing the Yalu River and driving his antagonists in rout before him. The Japanese now proceeded to overrun Manchuria and the Liao-tung Peninsula, capturing all the principal positions one after the other with unvarying success. A great army under Marshal Oyama invested Port Arthur in November, and on the 20th and 21st he took that powerful fortress by storm, the defenders being massacred to a man. The final and decisive act of the war was the bombardment of Wei-hai-Wei and the island fortress of Leu-Kung-tan by the combined naval and military forces of Admiral Ito and Marshal Oyama. The operations lasted from January 30th, 1895, till February 12th, when, unable to hold out any longer against the terrific assault, Admiral Ting, the Chinese Commander, surrendered his fleet and the forts under honors of war. A closing touch of tragedy was the suicide of Ting and his principal officers, unable to bear the shame of their defeat. On March 19th negotiations for peace were opened at Shimonoseki, and the final treaty was signed on April 17th. The Treaty of Shimonoseki gave Japan unqualified possession of that Peninsula and also, of course, of Port Arthur--a very moderate territorial prize, considering the absolute character of her victory over China, and the sacrifices she had made to obtain it. But Russian susceptibilities were alarmed, and the Government of St. Petersburg decided upon a drastic step to avert the calamity which threatened to render its ambitions futile. Gaining the support of both Germany and France, it compelled Japan, by threats of force which that Power could not resist, to retire from Port Arthur and the Liao-tung Peninsula, and to restore the territory to China. The reason alleged for this high-handed action was the specious plea that the presence of the Japanese on the Asiatic mainland would endanger the independence of China and Korea, and would be a constant menace to the peace of the Far East. Naturally enough the indignation of Japan was intense, but defiance of three such powerful antagonists was impossible for her at that moment, isolated as she was and exhausted by the exertions of a great war. Great Britain was asked by the other three Powers to act jointly with them in this matter, but she refused to assist in depriving the gallant Island people of their rightful spoils of victory. The attitude of Lord Rosebery's Government on this occasion, although it gave no positive aid to Japan, undoubtedly led to a better understanding between the two countries, and paved the way ultimately to the Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Alliance, which, by rescuing Japan from her position of isolation, enabled her to enter effectively into the momentous and complicated game which the European diplomatists were playing, with varying fortunes, at Peking. [Sidenote: Russia's "Honor"] Meanwhile, however, Japanese aspirations received a check from which they were to take several years to recover. The statesmen of the Mikado were even unable to obtain a pledge from China that the territories yielded back to her by Japan would never be alienated to a third Power. Russia's delicate sense of honor, it appeared, revolted against the imputation implied, and therefore China must give no pledge. On the other hand, Russia would be so generous as to give an assurance on her own account that she had no designs upon Manchuria. Forced to content herself with the cold comfort of this empty and meaningless declaration, and baffled upon all essential points, Japan sullenly withdrew her troops from the mainland and settled down to nurse her just wrath, and prepare for the inevitable day of reckoning. [Illustration: JAPANESE INFANTRY ATTACKING A CHINESE POSITION.] [Sidenote: M. Pavloff] The centre of interest was now shifted to Peking, where began that amazing scramble among the European Powers for commercial, and especially for railway, concessions in China, which, by unmasking the ambitions of some countries, and revealing the community of interests of others, has led ultimately to important modifications of international policy, and to a re-arrangement of alliances. The complexity of the game, the swiftness of the moves, and the ignorance of the average man, not only of the issues involved, but even of the main geographical and economic features of the immense country which was the object of the struggle--all contrived to puzzle the mind and to darken the understanding; but a vague feeling, only too clearly justified by the events, arose in this country that England and America were not getting the best of the conflict, and that Russia and Germany were making all the running. In truth, there is no doubt that the skill, or perhaps, to speak more correctly, the duplicity, of the Russian diplomatists both in Peking and in St. Petersburg left their competitors completely behind. Foremost among them there emerges at this time the sinister figure of M. Pavloff, the Minister of the Czar at the Chinese Court. The tortuous diplomacy of the Muscovite has produced no more characteristic tool. M. Pavloff has been the stormy petrel of the Far East. Intrepid, resourceful to a degree, unscrupulous beyond the average, he is ever in the forefront of the diplomatic battle line. His appearance in any part of the field is the signal for new combinations, fresh aggressions, the stirring up of bad blood between nations, and the unsettlement of apparently settled questions. A man whose god is the Czar; a man with whom the expansion of the Empire of the Little White Father is an ideal cherished with almost religious fervor; a man who indeed in all probability honestly regards the extension of the Russian autocracy over the world as essential to the due progress of higher civilization--he is thoroughly typical of the class of agents whose devoted services Russia has always managed to secure for the spread of her Empire and the gradual but steady absorption of fresh territory all over Asia, whether in China, Persia, Turkestan or Tibet. [Sidenote: Russia in China] Such was the instrument possessed by the Government of the Czar at the Court of Peking, and he was not likely to neglect the unique opportunity which lay ready to his hand. By her action in restoring Port Arthur to the nerveless grasp of China, Russia naturally assumed the character of a powerful friend whose smile was to be courted and whose frown was to be proportionately dreaded. What more natural, in the circumstances, than that the Emperor should grant to the subjects of his brother and ally, the Czar, peculiar commercial privileges in the country which had been so generously rescued from the grip of Japan and restored to the Empire of the King of Heaven? [Illustration: MAP OF THE AREA AFFECTED BY THE WAR.] [Sidenote: The Russo-Chinese Bank] The first result of M. Pavloff's policy of disinterested friendship became manifest in 1896, when the Chinese Government concluded an agreement with the Russo-Chinese Bank, providing for the formation of a company to be styled the Eastern Chinese Railway Company, the ownership of which was to be vested solely in Russian and Chinese subjects and which was to construct and work a railway within the confines of China, from one of the points on the western borders of the province of Heh-Lung-Kiang to one of the points on the eastern borders of the province of Kirin; and to the connection of this railway with those branches which the Imperial Russian Government would construct to the Chinese frontier from Trans-Baikalia and the Southern Ussuri lines. The institution, which went by the plain, solid, commercial name of the Russo-Chinese Bank, was, of course, merely a sort of Far Eastern annex of the Finance Bureau of M. de Witte, and the line thus modestly announced was the nucleus of the great railway which has since played such a large part in consolidating the Russian dominion over Manchuria. At the outset it was pretended that the line was to be merely a short cut to Vladivostock, but the true ambitions at the bottom of the scheme became apparent when Russian engineers began to pour into the country followed by squadrons of Cossacks, nominally for the protection of the new railway, but really in pursuance of Russia's invariable policy of impressing the natives with a due sense of her enormous military strength. [Sidenote: The Mailed Fist] The construction of the line, however, had not proceeded very far when, in 1897, an event occurred which gave the Czar's Government the chance for which they had long been anxiously looking. The massacre of some German missionaries led to swift and stern reprisals on the part of the Kaiser. The port of Kiao-Chau, in the province of Shantung, was seized until reparation was made for the outrage committed upon the majesty of the German Empire, and to placate the offended "mailed fist," the feeble Government of China were compelled to hand over this important position to Germany as a permanent possession, although, by a characteristic euphemism of diplomacy, the transaction was conveniently styled a "lease." Russia's opportunity was now too good to be neglected. Emboldened by the example of Germany, she demanded--for that is what her so-called "request" amounted to in reality--permission from the Chinese Government to winter her fleet at Port Arthur. Perhaps it may be imputed to her for righteousness that, unscrupulous as she is, she has never found it necessary to employ the missionaries of Christ as instruments of aggression; at all events on this occasion she had no such excuse at hand. The helpless Chinese assented, of course, to her request; but now Great Britain, awake at last to the dangers which threatened her Treaty rights, endeavored to intervene. Strong representations were made by the English Minister to the Tsung-lai-yamen as to the necessity for turning the port of Ta-lien-wan--which lies immediately adjacent to Port Arthur--into a Treaty port; that is to say, throwing it open to the trade of the world on the same terms as obtain at Shanghai, Canton, Hankau, and other ports of China at which the policy of the Open Door prevails. [Illustration: THE JAPANESE AT PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: Russian Leases] English statesmen, however, were no match for the wily Russians, who had the ear of the Chinese mandarins. The Government of the Czar successfully opposed the suggestion, and backed up its representations at Peking by significant display of force, for a considerable fleet of men-of-war arrived at Port Arthur and Ta-lien-wan in the spring of 1898 and practically took possession. Then, by a mingled process of terrorism and corruption, the Chinese Government were induced to grant the Czar a "lease" of the two harbors on the same terms as those on which Germany had been granted possession of Kiao-Chau, and, equally important, to permit the extension of the line of the Eastern Chinese Railway Company to Port Arthur. Thus came into being the Manchurian Railway, the construction of which was pushed on with feverish activity. [Sidenote: Benevolent Professions] The first step towards the complete acquisition and control of Manchuria had now been successfully accomplished, and English diplomacy sought in vain to wrest from Russia the advantage she had thus skilfully acquired. Of course Russia was prolific of "assurances" as she always has been in similar circumstances. The Government of the Czar solemnly declared, for the satisfaction of any confiding person who was willing to believe it, that it had "no intention of infringing the rights and privileges guaranteed by existing treaties between China and foreign countries," and that the last thing it contemplated was interference with Chinese sovereignty over the province of Manchuria. The sincerity of these benevolent professions was to be judged by the fact that, having once secured a grip of Port Arthur, Russia hastened to convert it into a fortified post of great strength and magnitude, and closed it absolutely against the commerce of the world; and that, while on the one hand she so far met the anxious representations of the British Government as to constitute Ta-lien-wan a free port in name, on the other hand she deprived the concession of all real meaning by an irritating system of passports and administrative restrictions upon trade. [Sidenote: Wei-hai-Wei] Great Britain attempted to neutralize the advantage her rival had gained in the Gulf of Pechili by securing a port on her own account, and, with the support of Japan, she induced the Chinese Government to enter into an agreement for the acquisition "on lease" of Wei-hai-Wei, a harbor situated on the southern shore of the Gulf and opposite to Port Arthur. It was imagined at the time that the port could be turned into a powerful naval base, but the naval and military surveys afterwards taken showed that it was of little use for strategic purposes, and it has consequently sunk into the position of a health station for the English China Squadron. [Sidenote: Niuchwang Railway] In the meantime Russia steadily increased her hold upon Manchuria, and large bodies of troops continued to be poured into the country. Her position had now become so strong in the counsels of the Chinese Court that in July, 1898, she openly opposed the concession, which British capitalists were seeking, of an extension of the Northern Railways of China to the Treaty Port of Niuchwang, which lies to the north of Port Arthur, at the extremity of the Gulf. The importance of this extension to British and American commerce was immense. Niuchwang is the main outlet of the trade of Manchuria, and was at that time a busy thriving town of about 60,000 inhabitants. Its value from the commercial point of view may be estimated from the fact that its total trade rose from £1,850,000 in 1881 to £7,253,650 in 1899, the year before it fell absolutely into Russian hands. Russia's attempt to deprive her commercial rivals of practical access by land to this valuable port were, however, on this occasion only partially successful; the construction of the Shan-hai-Kwan-Niuchwang Railway was finally permitted; but the agreement was greatly modified to suit Russian views. [Sidenote: Pavloff in Korea] Concurrently with these events, significant developments had been taking place in Korea, which brought Japan once more upon the stage. For some time after the Japanese had been driven from Port Arthur, Russia left Korea alone. She even entered into formal engagements with Japan, recognizing that Power's peculiar commercial rights and interests in Korea. But now M. Pavloff arrived upon the scene at Seoul. In March, 1900, he gave the Japanese the first taste of his quality by endeavoring to obtain a lease of the important strategic port of Masampo, situated in the southeast of Korea, facing the Japanese coast and dominating the straits between. At the same time he stipulated that the Korean Government should not alienate to any other Power the island of Kojedo, which lies just opposite to Masampo. Japan successfully resisted this bold stroke of policy; and matters were in this position when the Boxer rising gave Russia a supreme opportunity. Her troops in Manchuria were attacked by the rebels, and she at once hurried in reinforcements and seized the whole country. Resistance to her arms was put down with relentless vigor--with a vigor, indeed, far transcending the necessities of the case, and the Blagovestchensk massacres, in which thousands of unarmed Chinamen were offered up as a sacrifice to the offended majesty of Russia, will long be a stain upon the escutcheon of the Imperial Prophet of Peace. In the drastic process of absorption which was now adopted, the treaty port of Niuchwang was naturally included, and the interests of other Powers there became of very small account indeed. [Sidenote: Russia and Manchuria] It was evident that the Manchurian question had now assumed a more serious form. Of course the Czar's Government was profuse in its explanations. No permanent territorial advantage was being sought, we were told; as soon as lasting order had been established in Manchuria, and indispensable measures taken for the protection of the railway Russia would not fail to recall her troops from the province; above all "the interests of foreign Powers and of international companies at the port of Niuchwang must remain inviolate." The restoration of lasting order, however, appeared to be a very tedious process. More and more troops were drafted into the province and on the naval side also preparations were made for an imposing demonstration. [Sidenote: Russo-Chinese Treaty] Admiral Alexeieff, commanding the Russian fleet, though not yet advanced to the dignity of Viceroy of the East, now took charge of the Czar's interests, one of his first acts being to invite China to resume the government of Manchuria "under the protection of Russia." On November 11th, 1900, an agreement was signed at Port Arthur between the Russian and Chinese representatives. The terms of this remarkable document, which were promptly disclosed by the able and well-informed correspondent of the London _Times_ at Peking, were a startling revelation. They provided virtually for a Russian military protectorate over Manchuria. Mukden, the ancient capital of Manchuria and the burial-place of the Manchu dynasty, was to be the centre of control, and a Russian political resident was to be stationed there. This city, which now possesses a population of about 250,000, has in modern times become a great place of trade. It is situated 110 miles to the northeast of Niuchwang, and its position in the centre of the Manchurian railway system renders it a place of much strategical importance. Not only were these vast concessions made to Russia, but the Treaty rights of other Powers at Niuchwang itself were disregarded. Great Britain and the United States necessarily entered an urgent protest against this singular method of preserving their interests inviolate. But Count Lamsdorff, the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs, declared to our Ambassador that the Russo-Chinese Agreement was merely a temporary arrangement. The value of the solemn assurance of the Foreign Minister was exposed to the world almost immediately afterwards by the invaluable correspondent of the London _Times_, who sent to his paper the terms of a new and more far-reaching Agreement which the Russian diplomatists were trying to force upon the Chinese Court. [Sidenote: Anglo-Japanese Alliance] The position of affairs was now profoundly altered by the conclusion of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. This important Treaty gave Japan the strength and the encouragement ultimately to intervene on her own account and endeavor to curb the restless ambitions of Russia. Russia gave a definite pledge that her troops would be withdrawn from Manchuria by instalments on the expiration of a certain period. That period expired on October 8th, 1903, but the pledge was never redeemed. A show of evacuation was made in 1902, but the troops returned, and at the end of October of 1903 Mukden was re-occupied in force. Never during the whole period did Russia lose her grip upon Niuchwang. [Sidenote: Russians in Korea] Notwithstanding the conclusion of the Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Alliance in the beginning of 1902, Japan waited for eighteen months before entering into the diplomatic lists alone against Russia. But at last, in August of 1903, this course was rendered imperative upon her, not only by the failure of the Czar's Government to carry out their engagements in regard to Manchuria, but by their aggressive policy in Korea. M. Pavloff, rebuffed at Masampo in 1900, had turned his energies in another direction. He secured for his countrymen valuable mining rights in Northern Korea, and Russians then began to cross the Yalu River and ultimately occupied Yongampo, a town of some importance on the southern bank. Not content with railway enterprises, they even started to construct fortifications. The Japanese, of course, interposed energetically and succeeded in modifying the Russian activity; but it now became apparent that, unless some binding arrangement could be arrived at, Korea was destined to share the fate of Manchuria. [Sidenote: Japanese Protests] Representations were therefore made at St. Petersburg calling for a revision of the Treaties of 1896 and 1898, and a friendly settlement of the respective rights of the two Powers. The story of the negotiations which ensued is a simple one. It is a story of courteous and moderate representation on the one side, and of studied delay and contemptuous refusals on the other. The negotiations on behalf of Russia were in the hands of Admiral Alexeieff, now elevated to the position of Viceroy of the East, and it is said to be mainly due to his influence that his Government adopted such an unbending attitude. Japan asked for a repetition by Russia of the pledges she had given that she would recognize the integrity and independence of China and Korea; and, further, that she should recognize the preponderance of Japanese political and commercial interests in Korea. Russia haughtily refused to give Japan any pledge as to the integrity of China, and contended that her position in Manchuria was regulated by treaties with China in which Japan had no right to interfere. As to Korea, she proposed the establishment of a neutral zone in the north of the province, leaving the south of the country to become a sphere of commercial influence for Japan, but she expressly stipulated that the latter Power should make no use of any portion of Korean territory for strategic purposes. The proposal was so absurdly one-sided that Japan returned to the charge with the suggestion that a neutral zone should be established both on the Manchurian and the Korean sides of the frontier. She also reiterated her request for an agreement as to the maintenance of the territorial integrity of Manchuria and China. [Sidenote: Russia's Discourtesy] Russia contemptuously delayed reply to these representations in spite of the courteous requests of the Japanese Government. In the meanwhile she kept augmenting her forces in the Far East till the situation became impossible of continuance. Every day that passed threatened to transfer the balance of naval power in favor of the European Power, for a powerful fleet was being hurried out to the Far East, and the badly-finished warships in Port Arthur were being patched up by an army of mechanicians. Mr. Kurino, who conducted the negotiations at St. Petersburg, pressed for an answer, but was put off with promises no less than six times. Such discourtesy could only have one result. The dignity of Japan could brook no further insolence, and the Czar and his Ministers were politely informed that under such circumstances negotiations were useless. It was in vain that hurried telegrams were dispatched to Admiral Alexeieff to present a reply to the justly incensed Cabinet at Tokio. The die had been cast, and the big bully of the North, who had for so long baited the plucky little Japanese, realized at last that threats and bluff no longer were of any avail, and that the matter was now referred to the God of Battles. On February 7th, 1904, Japan formally broke off the negotiations and withdrew her Minister from St. Petersburg. The war cloud had burst. [Illustration: BATTLE OF THE YALU--SINKING OF THE CHIH-YUEN.] CHAPTER II. Russia Bluffing--Japan's Navy--"Nisshin" and "Kasaga"--New and Efficient--Japan's Dockyards--Opposing Figures--Russian Navy--Belated Help--Japan's Superiority--Russian Harbor--Japan on Land--Russia's Army--East of Baikal--Weak Communications--Port Arthur--Korea as Base--Command of the Sea--The First Blow--World-Wide Interest--A Graphic Account--Russian Losses--The Fight of February 9th--Russian Bravery--Japanese Modesty--Damage Understated--Only One Repairing Dock--Alexeieff's Reason for Casualties--The Fight at Chemulpo--The First Shot--Japanese Disembarkation--A Brave Russian Captain--A Target for Japanese Gunners--The Plucky "Korietz"--Wounding and Burning--Japan's Handicap. [Sidenote: Russia Bluffing] The growing menace of the situation in the Far East had been for months attracting the anxious attention of the whole world, and at the beginning of 1904 it became evident that war was inevitable, unless one or other of the disputants was prepared to make a complete surrender of its essential claims. The unlikelihood of this remote possibility being fulfilled was confirmed by the steady and, on the Russian side at least, the feverish preparations for hostilities which were carried on as an accompaniment to the repeated protestations of pacific intentions by the Czar's Government and its diplomatic agents abroad. Those who still believed in peace were sustained by the conviction that one of the parties to the dispute was bluffing. Sympathizers with Russia pointed to the tremendous power and inexhaustible resources of the Northern Empire, and asked whether it were possible that a young and small country like Japan should dare to try conclusions with so gigantic an antagonist. On the other hand, the friends of Japan emphasized the weakness of the Russian position in the Far East and the well-known financial embarrassments beneath which her Exchequer was laboring. It is, therefore, apropos to survey at this point the military and strategic position in the Far East which revealed itself immediately before the final rupture of diplomatic negotiations and the beginning of active hostilities. [Sidenote: Japan's Navy] In any conflict between Russia and Japan it was obvious that the first struggle must be for the mastery of the sea, and it is, therefore, interesting to consider primarily the relative naval strength of the two Powers in Far Eastern waters. The navy of Japan has been built, not only on English models, but for the most part in English yards; and since the Chino-Japanese War it has been increased by a number of vessels of the latest and most powerful type. The result is that the most formidable feature of Japan's naval strength is its complete homogeneity. The tabular statement on page 41, gives the names and principal characteristics of what may be called Japan's first fighting line at sea. [Sidenote: "Nisshin" and "Kasaga"] Towards the close of 1903 the Japanese Government, with great enterprise, managed to secure a powerful accession to this fleet by purchasing from Argentina two freshly constructed cruisers of the most modern and efficient type. These two vessels, which have been re-christened the _Nisshin_ and _Kasaga_, were hastily equipped for sea at Genoa, and, commanded for the time being by retired English officers and manned by English crews, started in January for the long voyage to the Far East. Although war had not yet been declared, it was clearly imminent, and the Russian squadron in the Mediterranean received orders to watch the new cruisers closely, with the object, of course, of capturing them in case hostilities broke out before the vessels had reached Japan. The taste of their quality, however, which the _Nisshin_ and _Kasaga_ were able to give to the Russians proved how valuable an addition they were to the Japanese navy, for they easily outdistanced their slow-footed pursuers, and what promised at one time to be an exciting race degenerated practically into a walk over. The new cruisers arrived safely at Yokohama on February 16th, and were at once sent into dock to refit and prepare for active service. These splendid fighting machines must, therefore, be added to the list. JAPAN'S UP-TO-DATE NAVY. BATTLESHIPS. Nominal Gun Weight of Name Displacement I.H.P. Speed Protection Broadside Fire Hatsuse 15,000 15,000 18.0 14--6 4,240 Asahi 15,000 15,000 18.0 14--6 4,240 Shikishima 15,000 15,000 18.0 14--6 4,240 Mikasa 15,200 16,000 18.0 14--6 4,225 Yashima 12,300 13,000 18.0 14--6 4,000 Fuji 12,300 13,000 18.0 14--6 4,000 ARMORED CRUISERS. Tokiwa 9,750 18,000 21.5 6--6 3,568 Asama 9,750 18,000 21.5 6--6 3,568 Yakuma 9,850 16,000 20.0 6--6 3,368 Adzuma 9,436 17,000 21.0 6--6 3,368 Idzumo 9,800 15,000 24.7 6--6 3,568 Iwate 9,800 15,000 24.7 6--6 3,568 PROTECTED CRUISERS. Takasago 4,300 15,500 24.0 4-1/2--2 800 Kasagi 4,784 15,500 22.5 4-1/2 800 Chitose 4,784 15,500 22.5 4-1/2 800 Itsukushima 4,277 5,400 16.7 11--4 1,260 Hashidate 4,277 5,400 16.7 11--4 1,260 Matsushima 4,277 5,400 16.7 11--4 1,260 Yoshino 4,180 15,750 23.0 -- 780 Naniwa 3,727 7,120 17.8 -- 1,196 Takachiho 3,727 7,120 17.8 -- 1,196 Akitsushima 3,150 8,400 19.0 -- 780 Niitaka 3,420 9,500 20.0 -- 920 Tsushima 3,420 9,500 20.0 -- 920 Suma 3,700 8,500 20.0 -- 335 Akashi 2,700 8,500 20.0 -- 335 [Sidenote: New and Efficient] The table, it will be observed, does not include a number of coast defence vessels, nor--more important for offensive purposes--the torpedo flotilla, which is of great strength and of remarkable efficiency, and includes over a score of 30-knot destroyers of the most modern type. The first four battleships in the list were completed less than two years before the war, while the armored cruisers were built between 1899 and 1901. The protected cruisers include several of the vessels that defeated the Chinese fleet at the battle of the Yalu. [Sidenote: Japan's Dockyards] For the accommodation of her fleet Japan possesses four well-equipped dockyards, capable not only of repairing damaged vessels of any class, but of constructing new ones; and this is, perhaps, the greatest advantage which the island kingdom has over Russia in the present struggle. [Sidenote: Opposing Figures] The naval strength of Russia in the Far East at the outbreak of hostilities is shown in the tabular statement appearing on page 44, which, again, does not include vessels of the smallest class nor the torpedo-boat flotilla. [Sidenote: Russian Navy] It will be remarked that the Russian battleships offered a great variety in design and fighting power--a serious disadvantage, for in manoeuvring the efficiency of the whole squadron sinks to the level of that of the least effective vessel it contains. The _Czarevitch_ and the _Retvisan_, which were the latest vessels to arrive at Port Arthur, were also the most powerful members of the fleet. The former vessel was built in France after the latest French model, and the latter in Philadelphia. This fleet was divided, at the outbreak of war, between Port Arthur and Vladivostock, the four powerful cruisers, _Gromoboi_, _Bogatyr_, _Rossia_, and _Rurik_ being stationed at the latter port. [Sidenote: Belated Help] While negotiations were still proceeding, though at a critical point, Russia prepared to send out very formidable reinforcements to the Far East from her Mediterranean Fleet. These reinforcements included the _Osliabia_, a battleship of over 12,000 tons displacement, with a speed of 19 knots; the _Dmitri Donskoi_, an armored cruiser of 6,000 tons displacement and a speed of 15 knots; the _Aurora_, a swift protected cruiser of the largest class; several cruisers of the volunteer fleet, with troops, naval drafts, and supplies; and a number of torpedo craft. This squadron had begun to assemble at Port Said before the outbreak of war, and the vessels at once began to pass through the Canal. But before they were ready to sail for the China seas, war broke out, and the departure was delayed. The initial Russian reverses at sea made it practically impossible for this reinforcing fleet to proceed to the seat of war, as it would have been liable to interception by the Japanese fleet in overwhelming strength. Accordingly, after cruising aimlessly about in the Red Sea for some weeks, the ships were ordered to return to the Baltic; and in the beginning of March they passed through the Suez Canal again on their way north. RUSSIA'S AVAILABLE NAVY. BATTLESHIPS. Nominal Gun Weight of Name Displacement I.H.P. Speed Protection Broadside Fire Tons Knots. In. Lbs. Poltava 10,950 11,200 17.0 10--5 3,367 Petropavlovsk 10,950 11,200 17.0 10--5 3,367 Sevastopol 10,950 11,200 17.0 10--5 3,367 Peresviet 12,674 14,500 19.0 10--5 2,672 Pobieda 12,674 14,500 19.0 10--5 2,672 Retvisan 12,700 16,000 18.0 10--5 3,434 Czarevitch 13,100 16,300 18.0 11--6-3/4 3,516 ARMORED CRUISERS. Nominal Gun Weight of Name Displacement I.H.P. Speed Protection Broadside Fire Tons Knots. In. Lbs. Bogatyr 6,750 19,500 23.0 5--4 872 Askold 6,500 9,500 23.0 -- 772 Varyag 6,500 20,000 23.0 5 510 Diana 6,630 11,600 20.0 4-1/2 632 Pallada 6,630 11,600 20.0 4-1/2 632 Boyarin 3,200 11,500 22.0 -- 180 Novik 3,000 18,000 25.0 -- 180 ARMORED CRUISERS. Nominal Gun Weight of Name Displacement I.H.P. Speed Protection Broadside Fire Tons Knots. In. Lbs. Gromoboi 12,336 18,000 20.0 6--3/4 1,197 Bayan 7,800 17,000 22.0 7--3 952 Rossia 12,200 18,000 20.0 2 1,348 Rurik 10,940 3,500 18.0 3 1,345 [Sidenote: Japan's Superiority] Though nominally the fleets of the two Powers were fairly equal, Japan possessed several very considerable advantages which, in the opinion of experts, changed that paper equality to marked superiority on her side. In the first place, the Chino-Japanese war only ten years ago had given her naval officers and men an invaluable experience of fighting on the grand scale under modern conditions; in the next place, their fleet was much more of a pattern; and in the third place it was operating from a base fully capable of providing all the needs and reinforcements entailed by losses in war, including a ready coal supply. [Sidenote: Russia's Harbors] Russia, on the other hand, had for its only bases Port Arthur and Vladivostock, the one inadequate to the multifarious needs of her fleet, and the other ice-bound in winter, and so situated geographically as to be completely isolated from what promised to be the main scene of operations. Although Port Arthur had been rendered almost impregnable as a fortress, the Russians had not had time to complete it as a naval dockyard, and at the outbreak of war it possessed only one dry dock, and that not capable of accommodating vessels of the largest size. At Vladivostock the channel out of the harbor could only be kept free by ice-breakers. In the event of naval disasters, Russia, therefore, had no possibility of repairing her lame ducks, while the radius of her fleet's activity was limited by the fact that her only supplies of coal were to be obtained at Port Arthur. In the situation, therefore, which presented itself at the outbreak of war, this powerful naval force was practically deprived of mobility. It could not leave Port Arthur for more than a short cruise; and while it remained there it must be specially vulnerable to attack, lying in an open roadstead and huddled together in order to enjoy the protection of the guns of the fortress. [Sidenote: Japan on Land] With regard to the land forces of the two belligerent Powers, it was only possible to reckon with certainty those of Japan; for it remained doubtful, until the progress of active operations revealed the facts, how much of Russia's enormous military strength had been concentrated in the Far East. Broadly speaking, Japan could put into the field in the last resort an army of between 400,000 and 450,000 men. The standing army amounts to almost 200,000 men, and it was immediately available for mobilization. To this number another 35,000 men was added by the reserve, while the militia of all arms could be reckoned at 200,000 men. The Japanese infantry soldier is armed with the Midji magazine rifle, and the artillery with the Arisaka quick-firing gun; but the adoption of this latter weapon has been so recent that the whole of the artillery is not yet supplied with it, and in this one respect at least the Russian gunners are believed to possess a very great advantage. The Japanese army has been organized largely on German models. It proved its efficiency as a fighting machine in the Chino-Japanese War; while the Japanese troops that took part in the relief of the Peking Legations earned the unstinted praise of all the military experts who watched their behavior. Until the present war, however, the Japanese army had never undergone the supreme ordeal of facing a European adversary. [Sidenote: Russia's Army] Of the Russian military organization, the strength and weakness have long been known to the world, and the great question for strategists in contemplating the present hostilities was the number of troops which the Northern Power could bring into the field to confront her foe. Various estimates had been given, from the overwhelming army of 400,000 men confidently claimed by Russia's partisans, to a force of little more than a quarter of that strength. But though the actual figures were in doubt, it was possible by collating the information from various sources to arrive at an approximate estimate of the truth. At the time of the Boxer outbreak in 1900 Russia had 35,000 men in the Far East, and that force was, within little more than a year, trebled. Since the possibility of trouble with Japan had loomed on the horizon, reinforcements had been steadily dribbling over the Trans-Siberian Railway and over seas in the volunteer transports, until the army under the command of the Viceroy of the Far East could not number much less than 150,000 men of all arms, with 286 guns. Of this force, at least a half must have been absorbed in the defence of the long line of railway communications and in garrisoning fortresses; but the troops available for active operations consisted largely of Russia's most formidable fighting material--namely, the Cossacks, who possess an endurance and mobility which must be of the utmost value in such a country as that in which the present war was to be fought out. [Illustration: ADMIRAL TOGO. ADMIRAL KAMIMURA. ADMIRAL MAKAROFF. ADMIRAL SKRYDLOFF. ADMIRAL ROZHDESTVENSKY. JAPANESE AND RUSSIAN ADMIRALS.] [Sidenote: East of Baikal] In the latter part of January the well-informed correspondent of the London _Times_ at Peking telegraphed an estimate of the Russian forces east of Lake Baikal, which, in its circumstantiality and exhaustiveness, bore the evidence of truth. According to this authority, Russia had available at that time a total of 3,115 officers, 147,479 men, and 266 guns; and these numbers included the railway guards over the whole of the Manchurian railways and the garrisons of the principal fortresses. The infantry of this force numbered 108,000 officers and men, and the cavalry 22,000 officers and men, of whom nearly the whole were Cossacks. The garrisons of Port Arthur and Vladivostock alone absorbed 45,000 men, and remembering that the railway line to be guarded, east of Lake Baikal, was over 1,500 miles in length, and traverses a country of which the inhabitants were more or less hostile, it is evident that the troops available to take the field at the end of January could not have exceeded, on this estimate, more than 50,000 men. Lake Baikal is 400 miles in length, and though a railway round its southern extremity was in course of construction, it was far from completion at the outbreak of hostilities. The lake is frozen over during the winter months, when transit has to be effected by sledges. But in the emergency the Russians laid railway lines across the lake, and thus by the end of February had established a through service of sorts. But even then the number of reinforcements and the quantity of supplies that could be moved up to the theatre of war were strictly limited by the delays inseparable from the working of a single track railway, and it is doubtful whether more than 25,000 men at the outside had been added to the field force by the beginning of March. [Sidenote: Weak Communications] The strategical problem which presented itself at the outbreak of hostilities was a comparatively simple one--for Japan at any rate. The power of Russia in the Far East depended on the maintenance of two great arteries of communication with the heart of the Russian Empire. One of these was the over-sea passage from the Black Sea or the Baltic through the Suez Canal and the East Indian Archipelago--a voyage occupying six weeks at least, and however feasible in time of peace, rendered particularly difficult and even precarious under war conditions owing to the possibility of interception and the absence of any intermediate coaling stations. The other connecting link between Port Arthur and St. Petersburg was the Trans-Siberian Railway, that gigantic enterprise which, completed in 1899, brought the capital of Russia within 15 days' journey of its furthermost outpost in the Yellow Sea. From Moscow to Port Arthur is a distance of some 4,000 miles, but at two-thirds of its length the railway is interrupted by the great inland sea known as Lake Baikal. At this point transshipment across the lake had to take place, a circumstance that offered an insurmountable hindrance to rapid transit. In the building of the railway, too, soundness had been sacrificed to rapidity of construction; the line was only a single track one, with stations and sidings at intervals of about 25 miles; and even when the whole service was monopolized for military purposes the number of trains that could be passed over the railway in one day was a fixed and very limited quantity. Even with this line open, therefore, the rate at which Russia could reinforce her troops in the Far East had to be determined by other circumstances than military urgency, and the number of her reinforcements also had to be governed by the capacity of the line to bring up not only men, but supplies; for Manchuria itself does not provide the means of support for a large army. The experience of the American Army in Cuba and of the British Army in South Africa proved what tremendous difficulties may be encountered in carrying supplies to a large force at a distance much less remote from its base than Russia's was. For years past Russia has sent out her troops and supplies to the Far East mainly by sea. For twelve months before the war broke out a constant stream of transports, colliers and supply ships had passed from the Black Sea to the Gulf of Pechili, and this stream was only interrupted on the outbreak of war--a significant admission of the incompleteness of the Russian preparations, as well as of the inadequacy of the Trans-Siberian Railway to supply her needs. [Sidenote: Port Arthur] It was evident, therefore, that Japan's first object was to shut off Port Arthur from the sea, and her next to cut the railway communication to the North. This done, the Russian fortress, however impregnable to assault, must ultimately fall to investment. From Port Arthur, which, as a glance at the map will show, lies at the very tip of Liao-tung Peninsula, the railway runs due north for six hundred miles through Niuchwang and Mukden to Harbin, where it joins the branch line to Vladivostock. Though Russia has for several years been in occupation of this territory, her hold upon it is by no means secure. The population is distinctly unfriendly, and for the mere defence of the line thousands of troops are necessary. Indeed, it was this necessity that Russia urged as an excuse for her military occupation of Manchuria. [Sidenote: Korea as Base] Within the triangle of which Harbin is the apex, of which the lines to Port Arthur and Vladivostock are sides, and of which the course of the Yalu River is the base, the sphere of immediate military operations practically had to be confined, as the ice-bound condition of the coast to the west of Port Arthur made a landing in force there impossible till the spring. The necessity of maintaining communications tied the Russian forces very largely to the railway lines. But for either belligerent the helpless kingdom of Korea, which lies south of a line drawn between Port Arthur and Vladivostock, for aggressive operations, afforded the most convenient line of advance. Through Korea Russia could menace Japan, and through Korea Japan could most easily march against Port Arthur. Naturally, therefore, Russia's first care was to mass her available troops on the line of the Yalu, and concentrate reinforcements at Harbin ready to be moved to whatever point might prove the objective of the Japanese attack. [Sidenote: Command of the Sea] But the command of the sea was the essential condition to attack by land by either combatant. With the Russian fleet masked or destroyed, Japan could choose as a landing-place for her armies any of the numerous ports on the western coast of Korea, and so approach in force the Yalu River, which divides Korea from Manchuria and the Liao-tung Peninsula. With imperfect command of the sea, Japan would have a second resource. She could land her troops at Masampo, separated only by a hundred miles of sea from her own ports, or she could, at a push, land her forces on the east coast of Korea, at Yuen San or Gensan. But the former plan of operations would have entailed a long overland march before the objective was reached, and the latter the maintenance of communications over difficult and mountainous country. Evidently, then, immeasurable importance attached to the result of the first naval engagements, and to their influence in giving the command of the sea to the one or the other of the two belligerent Powers. [Sidenote: The First Blow] On February 5th M. Kurino, the Japanese Minister at the Court of St. Petersburg, announced to the Government of the Czar that Japan could wait no longer for the long-delayed Russian reply, and that further negotiations were broken off. This startling news reached Europe and America on the evening of Sunday, February 7th; and while its significance was still being anxiously discussed in every capital, and while statesmen and jurists were still trying to convince one another that the rupture of diplomatic negotiations did not necessarily imply the beginning of war, there burst like a thunder-clap the further news that the first grim and irretrievable blow had been struck. Having decided that the arbitrament of war was inevitable, Japan acted on her decision with swift and terrible effect. On the night of Monday, February 8th, a daring attack by torpedo-boats was made on the Russian fleet lying at anchor in the Port Arthur roadstead, and at one fell swoop the boasted might of Russia at sea was hopelessly broken. This astounding intelligence was first conveyed to the world in an official telegram from Admiral Alexeieff to the Czar, couched in the following terms:-- "I most devotedly inform your Majesty that about midnight between the 26th and 27th of January (February 8th and 9th) Japanese torpedo-boats delivered a sudden mine attack on the squadron lying in the Chinese roads at Port Arthur, the battleships _Retvisan_ and _Czarevitch_ and the cruiser _Pallada_ being holed. The degree of seriousness of the holes has to be ascertained. Particulars will be forwarded to your Imperial Majesty." [Sidenote: World-wide Interest] The stunning effect of this news was only enhanced when fuller details of the incident so baldly and laconically announced came to hand. No news of the movements of the Japanese fleet had been allowed to leak out, and its presence before Port Arthur was wholly unexpected by others as well as the Russians. On the 3rd of February the Russian fleet had put to sea, and for twenty-four hours the world was agog with the news of so momentous a movement. But the speculation died suddenly when it appeared that the fleet had returned immediately to its anchorage. The Japanese, with characteristic alertness, realized the splendid opportunity which the necessarily exposed position of the Russian ships afforded to an enterprising enemy. [Sidenote: A Graphic Account] While everything was still tranquil at Port Arthur, and the Russian authorities were confidently announcing that the foe could not be expected for three or four days, the blow fell. According to the graphic account of an eye-witness, every one at Port Arthur had settled down for the night, when suddenly across the bay reverberated the shock of three violent and successive explosions. In a moment all was bustle and confusion on the Russian warships. Searchlights flashed bewilderingly and without purpose across the waters, and quick-firing guns from vessel after vessel began a panic fusillade, which Admiral Alexeieff, in his official report, euphemistically described as "a well concentrated fire at the right time." [Sidenote: Russian Losses] It was midnight, and in the darkness and confusion it was impossible for any one to know exactly what was happening; but when the morning light broke over Port Arthur the two proudest possessions of the Russian fleet, the powerful battleships _Retvisan_ and _Czarevitch_, were seen passing slowly towards the harbor entrance, across which they presently lay in evidently a badly damaged condition. The cruiser _Pallada_ followed, listing heavily to port, and she also was grounded outside the entrance to the harbor. [Sidenote: The Fight of Feb. 9th] It was at ten o'clock the next day, the 9th of February, that the Russians obtained their first glimpse of the enemy. In the distance three Japanese cruisers were described hanging observant upon the Russian fleet, and immediately what remained of that once powerful squadron put to sea in pursuit of the audacious enemy. But, as before, this bold movement had no result, and the Russian ships returned to anchor. Scarcely had they done so when the Japanese squadron of sixteen vessels, including six battleships and four first-class cruisers, steamed into view in fighting formation. As the leading vessels at a distance of some three miles came into line with the harbor entrance the flash of their great guns broke through the mist, and for nearly an hour the Japanese shells continued to burst over the forts, along the beach and among the Russian ships, who replied vigorously, and whose fire was assisted by that of the powerful land batteries. Again the Russian squadron steamed out to meet the enemy. [Sidenote: Russian Bravery] Some of the cruisers advanced towards the Japanese fleet with great gallantry, the _Novik_, the _Diana_, and the _Askold_ particularly distinguishing themselves, with the result that they were all rather seriously hit by the Japanese fire and were compelled to retire upon the main squadron. Several other of the Russian ships were damaged before the Japanese fleet drew off. [Sidenote: Japanese Modesty] The official dispatch of Admiral Togo to his Government upon the momentous achievements of his fleet during these two days was a model of modesty and self-restraint. Dated "February 10th, at Sea," it ran:-- "After the combined fleet left Sasebo, on the 6th, everything went off as planned. At midnight on the 8th the advance squadron attacked the enemy's advance squadron, the latter being mostly outside the bay. The _Poltava_, _Askold_ and others were apparently struck by torpedoes. "At noon on the 9th the fleet advanced to the offing of Port Arthur Bay and attacked the enemy for forty minutes, I believe doing considerable damage. I believe the enemy were greatly demoralized. They stopped fighting at one o'clock, and appeared to retreat to the harbor. [Illustration: GENERAL KUROKI. GENERAL OKU. MARSHAL OYAMA. GENERAL NODZU. GENERAL NOGI. JAPANESE GENERALS.] "The Japanese fleet suffered but very slight damage, and its fighting strength is not decreased. Our casualties were 4 killed and 54 wounded. The Imperial Princes on board suffered no harm. "The conduct of the officers was cool, and not unlike their conduct at manoeuvres. "This morning, owing to heavy south wind, detailed reports from the vessels have not been received, so I merely report the above fact." [Sidenote: Damage Understated] This dispatch, as we know both from the Russian official accounts and from independent witnesses, really understated the extent of the blow which the Japanese Admiral had dealt to the Russian fleet; the vessels torpedoed were not cruisers only, but the two crack battleships upon which Admiral Alexeieff necessarily placed peculiar dependence, and the "considerable damage" which Admiral Togo believed had been done by the subsequent bombardment had put out of action, for the time being, the battleship _Poltava_ and the cruisers _Diana_, _Askold_ and _Novik_. Of these the _Poltava_ and the _Novik_ were badly hit on the water line--damage the seriousness of which needs no comment. [Sidenote: Only One Repairing Dock] The most significant confession, indeed, of the crushing character of the blow which at the very commencement of the war the Japanese had succeeded in dealing to their powerful adversary was contained in a subsequent dispatch from the Viceroy to the Czar. Telegraphing on February 11th, Admiral Alexeieff reported "the _Czarevitch_ and the _Pallada_ were brought on the 9th inst. into the inner harbor. The leak in the _Retvisan_ is being temporarily stopped. _The repairing of an ironclad is a complicated business, the period for the completion of which it is hard to indicate._" This guarded language must be read in the light of the fact that the Russians had only one repairing dock capable of holding a large ship at Port Arthur, and the terrible character of the disaster which within forty-eight hours had befallen the naval power of the haughty Muscovite in the Far East will be realized. The losses in men were not very serious, amounting in all to 10 men killed and 2 officers and 41 men wounded, but the injury to the fleet was practically irreparable. Seven out of Russia's best vessels had been placed _hors de combat_, her battleships' strength being reduced to 4, namely, the _Petropavlovsk_, _Peresviet_, _Pobieda_ and _Sevastopol_ (the last two being themselves under repair when the war broke out), and her already small cruiser force being reduced to two, namely, the _Bayan_ and the _Boyarin_. The following is the list of the damaged ships:-- _Czarevitch_, battleship, torpedoed. _Retvisan_, battleship, torpedoed. _Poltava_, battleship, shelled on the water-line. _Novik_, cruiser, shelled on the water-line. _Askold_, cruiser, shelled on the water-line. _Diana_, cruiser, shelled on the water-line. _Pallada_, cruiser, torpedoed. It should be added that the repairs to the _Askold_ were quickly executed, and that she was able to take part in the subsequent operations a few days later. [Sidenote: Alexeieff's Reason for Casualties] Admiral Alexeieff's dispatch to the Czar stated that the majority of the wounded belonged to the _Pallada_. The reason for this was that they were "poisoned by gases produced by the explosion of the torpedo charged with melinite." The Japanese fleet, naturally, did not emerge from such an action unscathed. Its losses in men were officially reported as 4 killed and 54 wounded; and although the fighting efficiency of the fleet was not seriously impaired, two armored cruisers, the _Iwote_ and the _Yakumo_, were injured, and, as the casualties show, several other vessels were struck. But the most remarkable circumstance was that the torpedo-boats by which the night attack had been delivered escaped scot-free. [Sidenote: The Fight at Chemulpo] While the Russian capital was still reeling under the shock of this unexpected disaster, there came the news of a fresh blow struck by the Japanese arms in another quarter of the theatre of war. This was the naval engagement at Chemulpo--a port on the northwest coast of Korea--in which two of the Czar's warships and one transport steamer were destroyed. It is true that only one of these vessels had any fighting capacity, and that the conflict in itself was of much less consequence than the battle at Port Arthur, but the incident gave a further and mortifying revelation of the disorganization of the naval forces of Russia in the Far East, and of the total absence of anything like a bold and definite plan of operations from the minds of her commanders. In spite of the critical position in which the negotiations between the two Powers had been standing for weeks, the Russian fleet in the Yellow Sea was unconcentrated and generally unprepared for war. The outbreak of hostilities found two vessels, the _Varyag_, a protected cruiser of 6,500 tons, and the _Korietz_, a gunboat, old, indeed, but not without some use for coast defence, quietly stationed at Chemulpo, a ready prey for a Japanese squadron. [Sidenote: The First Shot] On the 8th instant a Russian steamer called the _Sungari_, which was employed for the transport of stores, entered the harbor with the news that a large fleet, which her captain believed to be Japanese, was fast approaching. The _Korietz_ was sent out to reconnoitre. The columns of smoke on the horizon did indeed come from the funnels of the enemy's ships. The advancing squadron consisted of a first-class battleship flying the flag of Admiral Uriu, and the cruisers _Akashi_, _Takachiho_, _Naniwa_ and _Chiyoda_, as well as seven torpedo-boats, the whole convoying transports with 2,500 Japanese troops on board. The _Korietz_ cleared her decks for action and fired--one account says that the shot was accidental--upon the rapidly approaching foe. The latter replied by discharging two torpedoes at the daring gunboat, which then retreated back into harbor. It is interesting to note that, whether the gunner of the _Korietz_ acted under orders or not, he fired the first shot in the war, for the incident occurred several hours before the torpedo attack upon Port Arthur. [Sidenote: Japanese Disembarkation] The Japanese took no further notice of the Russian ships until the disembarkation of their troops had been carried out, a process which was commenced immediately and was carried out through the night with great celerity and in the most perfect order. In this matter, indeed, as in all the preliminary stages of the war, the operations of the Mikado's forces showed how carefully thought out were the plans of his naval and military advisers. Not a detail appeared to have been omitted, every eventuality had been skilfully calculated beforehand, and as a result the whole machinery of warfare moved like clockwork. By four o'clock on the morning of the 9th the process of disembarkation had been successfully completed, and the soldiers had all found their pre-arranged billets on shore. The Japanese squadron then put out to sea once more, and waited for daylight before taking any action. At seven o'clock, however, the captain of the _Varyag_ was served with an ultimatum from Admiral Uriu declaring that hostilities had broken out between Russia and Japan, and summoning him to leave the harbor by midday. Should he refuse to do so, then the Japanese fleet would be compelled to attack the _Varyag_ and the _Korietz_ within the harbor. A correspondent of a London paper who was present on the spot states that the commanders of the other warships stationed at Chemulpo--namely, the British cruiser _Talbot_, the Italian _Elba_ and the French _Pascal_, held a meeting and drew up a strong protest addressed to the Japanese Admiral against his proposal to attack the Russian vessels in a neutral port. The message was sent out in the _Talbot's_ launch. [Sidenote: A Brave Russian Captain] The protest, however, was not needed, for the captain of the _Varyag_, in spite of the overwhelming disparity of forces, determined to face his enemies in the open. It was an act of conspicuous gallantry, only to be expected, it must be said, from the representative of a country whose sons, whatever their faults, have never been slow to die for her sake. The manner, too, in which the _Varyag_ set about her voyage to inevitable destruction was well worthy of the finest naval traditions of all countries and all ages. We are told that as the drums beat to quarters, and as the doomed ship steamed out amid the cheers of the foreign crews in the port, the band was massed upon her deck and burst into the strains of the Russian Hymn, the National Anthem. It was like that "flourish of insulting trumpets" with which Raleigh faced the guns of Cadiz, and the bravado of which Stevenson said he liked "better than the wisest dispositions to ensure victory; it comes from the heart and goes to it." No one, indeed, who is capable of generous emotions can fail to be uplifted by the story of the _Varyag's_ passage to death. It is well to know that the cold science of modern naval warfare and all those mathematical calculations and inventions which have displaced the ancient ascendency of brawn and muscle at close quarters have not quenched the eager spirit of the sailor, or diminished his "heroic superstitions and his strutting and vainglorious style of fight." It was with a spirit not less high and intrepid that the captain of the little _Korietz_, disregarding the orders of his superior officer to remain within the shelter of the harbor, followed in his wake and strove desperately to meet the same fate. [Sidenote: A Target for Japanese Gunners] Slowly but steadily the two ships held on their course towards the Polynesian Archipelago, where lay in wait their powerful foe. The _Varyag_ had reached Round Island, when at a distance of nearly two miles the Japanese flagship opened fire with one of her big guns. The aim of the gunners was true. Right amidships burst the great missile, doing terrible execution, and shell after shell followed with relentless rapidity. The _Varyag_, wheeling around in a small circle, responded dauntlessly with her 6-inch guns, but with little or no effect upon the battleship, and now Admiral Uriu's cruisers joined in the cannonade. Within half an hour of this fearful raking fire her bridge was shot away and her sides were gaping with holes, but she kept afloat and still withstood the onslaught, endeavoring heroically but in vain to find an opening by which to break through and escape out to sea. At last, after an hour's terrible pounding, she was compelled reluctantly to give up the attempt as hopeless, and, taking refuge among the islands, with difficulty crept back into Chemulpo harbor, disabled beyond repair and with her decks reduced to veritable shambles. Her desperate struggle had not left the enemy utterly scathless, for there seems no doubt that one of the Japanese cruisers received a good deal of damage. [Sidenote: The Plucky "Korietz"] In the meanwhile the little _Korietz_, with extraordinary bravery, but with absolutely pathetic ineffectiveness, had been attempting to imitate the manoeuvres of her consort and to do some injury to the big ships of the enemy. As well might a warrior with a popgun try to engage a battery of field artillery. It was magnificent, it certainly was not war. The range was hopelessly beyond her powers, and perhaps it was the bitterest drop in the cup of her commander and crew that the Japanese soon ceased to pay her any attention at all, concentrating all their efforts upon the more dangerous _Varyag_. When that vessel retreated at length into harbor, the _Korietz_ followed her unharmed but undisgraced. [Sidenote: Wounding and Burning] The wounded of the _Varyag_, numbering 4 officers and 214 men, were removed in boats to the British, Italian and French warships. The dead were left on board, for it was decided to scuttle the ship. At the same time arrangements were made to blow up the _Korietz_. Just as the Japanese fleet again appeared in sight the latter vessel blew up, and the shattered hull, after one great burst of flame and smoke, sank beneath the waters. The _Varyag_ refused to sink so easily, and the Russian sailors therefore again boarded her to set her on fire. After a little more than an hour she had burned down to the water's edge and, heeling over, disappeared. The _Sungari_ was the next to meet its fate, the Russians setting fire to it also to prevent its falling into the hands of the enemy. The Japanese fleet then steamed out to sea once more, having left behind it no further obstacle to the landing of troops on the west coast of Korea. [Sidenote: Japan's Handicap] Thus within forty-eight hours of the rupture of diplomatic relations, the first decisive action in the struggle for sea-supremacy had been fought, and the result left to the enterprising and intrepid Navy of Japan not only the immense moral value of a victory well contrived and unerringly accomplished, but the solid material advantage of a superiority in fighting strength which was incontestable. [Illustration: GENERAL LINEVITCH. GENERAL GRIPENBERG. GENERAL KUROPATKIN. GENERAL KAULBARS. GENERAL RENNENKAMPFF. RUSSIAN GENERALS] CHAPTER III. No Rest for Russia--Port Arthur--The Russian Forts--Another Russian Disaster--Second Night Attack--Japanese Daring--Demons of the Storm--Moral Effect--Bottling up Port Arthur--The Fireships--Fire and Searchlight--Rain of Shell--Russians Still in the Woods--The Blockade--Transport Problems--Secrecy of Japanese Movements--Admirable Arrangements--A Close Censorship--Japanese Landings--Terrible Weather--At Ping-Yang--Perfect Organization--At Seoul--The Korean Emperor--A Japanese Protectorate--Advantage to Japan--Railway Building--Japanese Rapidity--Dismay at St. Petersburg--Alexeieff Criticised--General Kuropatkin--Confessions of Weakness--Desperate Efforts--On the Yalu--Round Niuchwang--Martial Law Proclaimed. [Sidenote: No Rest for Russia] If the Russians at Port Arthur imagined that an enemy so resourceful as Admiral Togo had shown himself to be would rest quietly upon his oars after the conspicuous successes of the 8th and 9th of February, they were greatly mistaken. The first course of action for the victor in such a case is to keep on striking and to give the harassed foe no rest--in the striking words of Captain Mahan, to "benumb the victim." This was precisely the plan of campaign adopted by the Japanese, who continued to show the same remarkable skill and coolness of calculation, and the same dash and daring in execution as had characterized their naval operations from the first. On the other hand, the disorganization of the Russian fleet, and of the defending force at Port Arthur generally, showed itself more markedly than ever, and the incapacity of the Czar's commanders conspired to aid the enterprise of the Japanese. [Sidenote: Port Arthur] Before entering, however, upon a narrative of the attacks upon Port Arthur which followed in swift succession upon the great battle of the 9th, it may be well to give some description of that famous stronghold. The inner harbor is oval in shape, and two miles long from east to west and a mile in breadth from north to south. The shores are protected by hills, which the Russians had assiduously fortified since they obtained occupation of the place. Entrance is afforded from the south by a narrow channel, so narrow indeed that while it has the advantage of being easily held against an enemy, it has the counteracting disadvantage of being somewhat difficult of navigation for the ships of the defending fleet. The mouth of this channel is protected on the southwest by two dangerous reefs, which would prove a snare to an unwary foe; while on the eastern shore there stands the hill of Kwang-chin-shan, 250 feet above the sea level, upon which frown the guns of several powerful batteries. Upon the lower slopes the Russians had established two batteries of Canet quick-firing 5.5in. and 7.5mm. guns, with a torpedo and searchlight station. The entrance channel is flanked along the northwest by a narrow strip of land which goes by the expressive name of the "Tiger's Tail," and this strip was fortified with battery of 7 Canet 5.5in. quick-firing guns. The distance from the Pinnacle Rock, one of the reefs above mentioned as situated at the western corner of the entrance passage, to the opposite shore, is nearly 350 yards. In its course the channel narrows, till at one point it is only 500 feet in width, but it widens out again at the northern end. At the northeastern end lies the basin, or East Port. There is accommodation here for about a dozen large men-of-war, and on the north side stands the one dry dock for repairing large vessels of which Port Arthur can boast. On the other side of the channel, which at this point is 430 yards in width, lies the mouth of the harbor proper, facing the southeast. To enter it, ships have to round the Tiger's Tail, not a particularly easy process for men-of-war of the largest size. Nor is the harbor itself yet fitted to receive a great fleet. When the Russians took it over they found that it was too shallow for berthing vessels even of a moderate size; and in spite of the feverish activity of their engineers in the last year or two, the dredging operations have not proceeded far enough to allow of accommodations for more than three battleships, together with minor craft. Hence the Port Arthur squadron has generally been disposed either in the East Port, or basin, or in the open roadstead outside the entrance channel. It was indeed the position of the Russian ships in this latter anchorage that gave the Japanese the opportunity for their fatal torpedo attack on the 8th. [Illustration: _THE HARBOR OF PORT ARTHUR._] [Sidenote: The Russian Forts] The land defences of Port Arthur were exceptionally strong. A range of forts, of which the Kwang-chin Hill already mentioned was the most important, commanded the harbor entrance; and another range of batteries, with the most powerful and up-to-date garrison ordnance, surmounted the hills which surround the town and protect it on the other side. Another line of forts guards the entrance channel on the west side, the most important being Wei-yuen. It seemed, indeed, undoubted that Port Arthur was impregnable from the sea, though at the beginning of the war European experts were not inclined to dogmatize as to the possibilities of its being stormed from the land side. As for the fleet, if it were lying in the West Harbor or in the East Port under the shadow of Kwan-chin, it would probably be perfectly safe from attack; but, on the other hand, it will be seen that there was a danger that the narrow entrance channel might be blocked up by an enterprising enemy, in which case the Czar's ships, even if they were the finest in the world, would be useless for all the essential purposes of naval warfare. This attempt to "cork up the bottle" was, indeed, nearly carried out by Admiral Togo in the course of the fortnight following the outbreak of war. [Sidenote: Another Russian Disaster] Two days after the great attack another disaster befell the hapless Russians. With this the Japanese fleet, which had retired temporarily to the Elliot Islands in the Korean Gulf to refit and repair injuries, had nothing to do. It was solely due to carelessness and mischance; and while illustrating the state of demoralization that existed at Port Arthur, it contributed to spread that demoralization still further among the already sufficiently harassed forces of the defenders. The mine transport _Yenesei_, which, with her sister ship the _Amur_, was engaged in superintending the mine defences of the harbor entrance, observing a submarine mine which had become detached floating on the surface of the water, approached it for the purpose of firing upon it and thus removing an obvious danger to the ships lying at anchor. Unfortunately, in the excitement of the process, Captain Stepanoff, who was in command, allowed his ship to drift upon a neighboring mine. A terrific explosion followed, and the _Yenesei_, with a yawning hole in her bows, began at once to settle down. An attempt was made to lower the boats, but the catastrophe was so sudden and unexpected that little could be done. Captain Stepanoff went down with his ship, and there perished also, either from the direct effects of the explosion or from drowning, the engineer, two midshipmen and ninety-two men of lower rank. Not only was this terrible disaster damaging to the _morale_ of the fleet, but it deprived Admiral Alexeieff of a valuable ship and of stores which he could ill spare. The _Yenesei_ was built at Kronstadt in 1898. She was of 2,500 tons displacement, with a speed of 17-1/2 knots; was armed with five 4.7-inch and six smaller quick-firing guns, and was capable of carrying 500 mines. It is, of course, possible that she had not that full number on board at the time of the explosion, but in any case the loss in this respect alone must have been very severe. The accident throws an instructive and rather terrifying light upon the possible dangers of submarine mines, not only to the enemy who are attacking a fortified port, but also to the defenders themselves. [Sidenote: Second Night Attack] Before the Russians at Port Arthur had recovered from this nerve-shaking disaster the tireless foe flew at their throat once more. On the night of the 13th a flotilla of Japanese torpedo-boat destroyers started out to make another dash at the survivors of the Czar's fleet, which were still lying in the open roadstead, presenting for a daring and resourceful enemy a tempting object of attack. The flotilla was under the command of Captain Nagai. A blinding snowstorm was raging at the time, and it was no wonder in the circumstances that the vessels became separated from one another and that some lost their way altogether. But two, more fortunate than their fellows, hit the right course. These were the _Asagiri_, under Captain Iakawa, and the _Hayatori_, commanded by Captain Takanouchi. A snowstorm on that coast is enough to tax the skill and the courage of the most intrepid sailor, but the Japanese officers and crews were equal to the occasion. Right in the teeth of the awful blizzard, their decks sheeted with ice and snow, but with hearts on board hot with the fire of heroic adventure, the gallant little craft held steadily on their way. The navigating lieutenants had to find their course more by instinct than by calculation, for it was impossible to see anything clearly ahead through the pitch-darkness and the relentless snow. On, however, they crept through the terrible night, each working independently of the other, for under such conditions no concerted plan of attack was possible. [Sidenote: Japanese Daring] At three o'clock in the morning of the 14th, the _Asagiri_ reached the harbor mouth, and in she dashed regardless of the searchlights, which made broad, livid tracks even through the storm of snow. A hot fire at once broke out from the fortress and the ships, but the aim of the gunners was wild, and, undaunted by the perils of his situation, Captain Iakawa drove his boat right up to the Russian torpedo flotilla, and discharged a torpedo at one of the larger vessels, from whose funnels smoke was seen ascending. The deadly weapon went home, and after waiting to see that it exploded, the _Asagiri_ engaged in a smart exchange of shots with the enemy's torpedo boats and destroyers, in the course of which she sent a "scout" to the bottom. Then, and not till then, did her brave commander withdraw. Turning out to sea once more, and still hotly replying to the Russian fire until she was out of range, the _Asagiri_ safely escaped, covered with honor. [Sidenote: Demons of the Storm] Two hours later the _Hayatori_ arrived upon the scene and performed the same gallant feat. Still facing the terrors of the storm, she approached the harbor entrance and stealthily crept up to the fleet, which lay helplessly at anchor. At last the audacious little destroyer was discovered. Two vessels opened a fierce fire upon her, but without hesitation, though at the same time with the most deliberate coolness and perfect aim, she discharged a torpedo at the nearest ship. The missile was seen to explode, and then, like her consort, the _Asagiri_, fled safely to sea once more, after spiritedly returning the hot fusillade directed upon her from all quarters. [Sidenote: Moral Effect] In the characteristically restrained dispatch in which Admiral Togo described this brilliant feat of arms by the _Asagiri_ and the _Hayatori_, he remarked:--"It is impossible to state the definite material results, owing to the darkness, but the moral effect was certainly considerable." From other sources, however, something was learned of the character of the material damage done to the Russian fleet Not only was a scout destroyed, but the cruiser _Boyarin_ was injured by one of the torpedoes, and the Volunteer Fleet steamer _Kayan_ had her upper works knocked about by a shell from one of the Russian guns. The exact amount of the damage done was not revealed on the Russian side, but there can at all events be no doubt that, in the words of the Japanese Admiral, the moral effect was considerable. It is clear from the safe return of these two small destroyers out of the very jaws of the enemy, that the Russian gunners had become demoralized, and the ineffectiveness of Admiral Alexeieff's own torpedo flotilla in the face of an attack which it was peculiarly designed to meet points strongly in the same direction. [Illustration: RUSSIAN FLEET TRYING TO LEAVE PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: Bottling up Port Arthur] But still a third harassing attack was in store for the Russian fleet. While one division of his torpedo-boat destroyers was thus carrying confusion and dismay into the ranks of his opponents, Admiral Togo, holding his main fleet within the shelter of the Elliot Islands, was quietly preparing for a larger and more far-reaching _coup_. This was to be nothing less than the operation of "corking up the bottle," in other words sinking ships at the entrance to Port Arthur Harbor, and blocking the fairway against passage of the Russian ships. It was an enterprise in some ways similar to the famous exploit of Lieutenant Hobson of the _Merrimac_ at Santiago-de-Cuba during the Spanish-American War, but in the present case the blockading fleet attained less success. [Sidenote: The Fire Ships] Five old steamers were chartered for the purpose. Their names were the _Tenshin Maru_, the _Bushu Maru_, the _Buyo Maru_, the _Hokoku Maru_, and the _Jinsen Maru_. Two of these, under the names of the _Rohilla_ and the _Brindisi_, were formerly in the service of the Peninsular and Oriental Company. It may here be remarked that the spirit animating all ranks of the Japanese in this war was shown by the numbers of volunteers who came forward for the dangerous task of manning the doomed steamers. The difficulty, indeed, was not to find sufficient men, but to select the limited force required without giving offence to the remainder of the host who sought to share in the glorious risk. At last, however, the officers and crews were chosen, and the vessels, having been carefully filled with heavy stones and explosives, left for Port Arthur on the morning of the 23rd of February, escorted by a flotilla of torpedo boats and destroyers. [Sidenote: Fire and Searchlight] In the darkness of the early morning of the 24th, they reached the roadstead outside Port Arthur, the _Tenshin Maru_ leading the way. The Russians, however, were more vigilant than on former occasions, and their searchlights soon revealed the renewed presence of their insatiable enemy. The _Tenshin Maru_, steering too far to the left, came within the fire of the batteries on the Tiger's Tail at close range. She was disabled by a shell, ran upon the rocks three miles to the southwest of the harbor entrance, and there blew up. The other steamers changed their course to the northeast, but the attentions of the Russian searchlight operators rendered their progress highly difficult and dangerous, and they were soon the object of a positive storm of fire from the forts on the Tiger's Tail, Golden Hill, and Electric Cliff, and also from the damaged _Retvisan_, which lay grounded at the entrance to the channel. The _Bushu Maru_ was the first to suffer from the cannonade. Her steering gear was carried away, and, staggering blindly to the west, she grounded close to the _Tenshin Maru_, blew up, and sank. The fate of the _Buyo Maru_ was no better. She was raked fore and aft by the Russian shells, and before she could reach the coveted entrance she also exploded and sank beneath the waters. [Sidenote: Rain of Shells] The _Hokoku Maru_ and the _Jinsen Maru_ were more successful. They made a rush together for the harbor channel, and got close up to the _Retvisan_. Disregarding the heavy fire directed upon them from the disabled but still dangerous monster, the adventurous volunteers calmly anchored their vessels upon the spot previously selected. Then only did they set the match to the fuses. Cheering loudly, but with no undue precipitation, they now took to the boats and pulled away in perfect order, in spite of the rain of shells and bullets showered around them on every side. The abandoned steamers blew up immediately afterwards and sank close to the lighthouse at the channel mouth. The activity of the Russian searchlights and the hot fire from the guns of the _Retvisan_ and the forts compelled the men in the boats to take a very roundabout course, and they could not regain the Japanese torpedo fleet, which in the meantime had successfully picked up the crews of the other sunken ships. But the situation of the sailors of the _Hokoku Maru_ and the _Jinsen Maru_ was full of peril. To add to their difficulties, the wind rose to a gale towards daybreak, and they were driven out of their course. But they struggled bravely on, and, after enduring great hardships, they managed to reach the main fleet about three o'clock in the afternoon. According to the Japanese Admiral's report, all engaged returned in safety from this dangerous enterprise, an achievement comparable to the most daring "cutting-out" expeditions of olden times. It should be added that not a single destroyer or torpedo-boat was injured. [Sidenote: Russians Still in the Wood] Owing to the failure of three of the steamers to reach the entrance of the channel, and the insufficient size of the two which were successfully sunk there, the main object of the scheme was not attained, but it is thought that some temporary inconvenience was caused to the Russians, especially as the position of the grounded _Retvisan_ herself was already something of an impediment to navigation. Extraordinary jubilation was created in the Czar's dominions, particularly in the Capital, by the failure of the Japanese expeditions. It was at first thought by the defending force, in the darkness and confusion, that the merchant steamers were men-of-war, and a grandiloquent account was sent to St. Petersburg by an imaginative correspondent announcing no less a disaster to the Japanese than the destruction of four of their battleships, after a severe engagement in which the wounded _Retvisan_ had covered herself with glory. The news was quickly transmitted abroad by the semi-official agency, and the greatest excitement was caused in every capital in Europe. Cool-headed people, nevertheless, waited for some confirmation of this remarkable story, and when the truth came out the partisans of Russia were chagrined to find what a different complexion the real facts wore. Admiral Alexeieff, however, after the previous disasters which had befallen his fleet, was to be pardoned, perhaps, for the somewhat exultant tone of his dispatch to the Czar, in which he attributed what he called "the complete derangement of the enemy's plan" to "the brilliant resistance and destructive fire of the _Retvisan_." [Sidenote: The Blockade] Undiscouraged by the failure of this attempt to bottle up the enemy, Admiral Togo continued to maintain a strict blockade of the port, and to pursue the policy of alternate torpedo attacks and heavy bombardments at frequent intervals. But before proceeding with the story of these damaging and disconcerting operations, it will be convenient to describe the course which events were taking in other quarters of the theatre of war. [Sidenote: Transport Problems] The signal success of Japan at sea had reduced to comparatively simple proportion the problem of the transport of her forces to the seat of war on land, where the curtain was about to rise on the most desperate act in the great drama. With half the Russian fleet at Port Arthur disabled, with the other half confined to the harbor by strict blockade, and with the Vladivistock cruiser squadron reduced to ineffective isolation, the Mikado's military advisers were able to choose the most convenient landing-places in Korea with a freedom which was only limited by the difficulties of the winter season. This indeed was a serious impediment to the movement of troops in large numbers. Not only were most of the available harbors both in Korea and on the Liao-tung Peninsula blocked by the ice, but when the invading force landed it found the roads in such a state as to render them almost impassable. The country was covered with snow several inches deep; the frost was biting; and even when milder weather began to prevail the conditions did not at once prove more favorable to marching operations and to the conveyance of heavy artillery. For the time being, in fact, they grew worse rather than better, for the thaw produced a perfect sea of mud, which made progress northwards a terribly slow and painful business. Anyone who has tried to cross a ploughed field during the break up of a prolonged frost can form some idea--faint, however, at the best--of the pleasures of marching in Korea at the beginning of spring. [Sidenote: Secrecy of Japanese Movements] In spite, nevertheless, of all the natural difficulties of the situation, the Japanese proceeded steadily and systematically to "weave the crimson web of war." Nothing has been more remarkable in the course of these operations both by sea and by land than the complete secrecy with which the Mikado's strategists have veiled all their important movements until the calculated blow has been struck. In this, of course, they have been aided by their speedy acquisition of the command of the sea. All the correspondents who have proceeded to the seat of war agree in paying mortified tributes to the thoroughness of the Japanese press censorship. For weeks together a great army of "specials" were condemned idly to kick their heels at Nagasaki, while before their eyes transport after transport, crowded with soldiery, was leaving that port for unknown destinations. It was, however, generally evident on the face of the broad facts of the situation, that the main objective of the Japanese armies at that time was the west coast of Korea; for though the ports in the district were undoubtedly difficult of access on account of the ice, the condition of things on the Liao-tung Peninsula, the other probable place of disembarkation, was very much worse. [Sidenote: Admirable Arrangements] Before the end of February over forty transports sailed from Nagasaki, and a still larger embarkation went on at Ujina, near Hiroshima, where a great force of horse, foot, and artillery were steadily detrained every day and sent on board. The admirable arrangements made by the Japanese directors of mobilization and transport were the theme of universal praise among unprejudiced observers. Everything had been carefully thought out beforehand; all the necessary material was ready; and consequently, when war broke out, there was no confusion, no undue haste--only the ordered bustle of men who knew exactly what they had to do and how it was to be done, down to the veriest detail. Special wharves had been prepared and were in position within a few days, with railway lines laid upon them, connecting them with the main lines over which the troops travelled from the interior, so that the trains could be brought down almost to the water's edge. Here the soldiers were detrained, and, after a meal, embarked upon lighters and steam launches, and were conveyed swiftly to the ships to which they were assigned. These transports averaged 6,000 tons in burden, and were excellently fitted up for their purpose. An important part of the vessels' equipment in each case was a number of large surf-boats or sampans, about the most useful form of boat possible for landing troops in the shoal waters of the Korean harbors. [Sidenote: A Close Censorship] What was taking place in the meanwhile on the other side of the channel, and particularly upon the western coast of the Hermit Kingdom? We now know something of the strength and the disposition of the Japanese forces, although right up to the last moment before the general advance only the smallest items of information were allowed to pass through the narrow-meshed net of the censorship. [Sidenote: Japanese Landings] According to the most trustworthy accounts, however, there seems little doubt that the chief point of disembarkation of the Mikado's army was Chinampo, a small and obscure treaty port situated about 150 miles north of Chemulpo. We have already related the landing of the Japanese advance guard at Chemulpo on February 8th, before the naval battle which resulted in the destruction of the _Varyag_ and the _Korietz_. This force, which belonged to the 12th Infantry Division under General Inouye, and consisted of 2,500 men, was billeted at once in the little town, and was followed during the next few days by the remainder of the Division, with transport corps, train, and engineers. When the Mikado's advisers had been assured of the success of the initial naval operations and of Admiral Togo's supremacy at sea, a small expedition was immediately landed near Haiju, a place situated about half-way between Chemulpo and Chinampo, and sent forward by the Seoul-Wiju road to seize Ping-Yang, a strategical point the importance of which was amply demonstrated in the Chino-Japanese war. The main body of General Inouye's Division followed with all possible speed from Chemulpo. [Sidenote: Terrible Weather] The hardships which these troops had to face were terrible indeed. The weather was at its worst. Heavy rain was succeeded by frost, and on the top of the frost came snow, and cruel blinding blizzards, in the teeth of which the little Japs, each man burdened with a weight of 100 lbs., had to struggle as best they could. In the circumstances the achievement of these forerunners of the Mikado's main army did an admirable piece of work. They did a steady march of 25 miles a day, bivouacking in the dirty Korean villages by night. At last, after four or five days, the force reached Ping-Yang and proceeded with all expedition to fortify it against possible attack. By the end of February a considerable body of troops was in occupation of Ping-Yang, and patrols were being pushed northwards to Anju. [Sidenote: At Ping-Yang] The seizure of this strong position, providing as it did against any immediate danger from the north, enabled the Japanese to land higher up the coast than Chemulpo, and henceforth the main work of disembarkation in this quarter was carried on at Chinampo, access to which is gained by an arm of the sea called the Ping-Yang Inlet. [Sidenote: Perfect Organization] Here we find the complement of the operations which at Nagasaki and Ujina excited such keen admiration on the part of foreign critics. Perfect order and discipline characterized the disembarkation of the Japanese, as it had characterized their embarkation. The Pink-Yang Inlet is difficult of navigation at the best of times, but the inherent difficulties were enormously enhanced at this period of the year by the drift ice, which rendered landing an awkward and, in some cases, a hazardous undertaking. But the Japanese showed that admirable forethought which has characterized every step they have taken, and the transports brought with them large numbers of pontoon wharves, which enabled the troops to disembark from the sampans at some distance from the shore, and to march easily on to firm land. Here the hardy Japanese, in spite of the severe cold, bivouacked for the most part in the open, and were then pushed forward with all possible rapidity towards Ping-Yang. By the middle of March, as far as can be estimated, at least 80,000 men had landed in Korea ready to advance northwards as soon as the weather would permit; General Kuroki, commanding the 1st Army Corps, assuming the direction of affairs until the arrival of Baron Kodama, the Chief of the General Staff, who had been appointed Commander-in-Chief. [Illustration: RUSSIAN AND JAPANESE DESTROYERS AT CLOSE QUARTERS, MARCH 9TH.] [Sidenote: At Seoul] In the meanwhile a strong force, under General Inouye, had marched upon Seoul, and without difficulty overawed the feeble Emperor and his corrupt Court. On the 12th of February M. Pavloff, whose name had for so long been a word to conjure with in Korea, left the capital for Chemulpo under the humiliating protection of a Japanese guard. M. Pavloff, it is said, was thunderstruck by the news of the disasters to the Russian navy, and by the sudden revelation of the real strength of the hitherto despised Island Empire. It was now clear to the world, and not least to his dupes, the Koreans, that the diplomatic bluff in which he, in common with his administrative chief, Admiral Alexeieff, had been indulging for so long was ludicrously out of proportion to the naval and military preparations which would ultimately have to support it. But the power of this able man at the Court of Seoul, though broken for the moment, was not by any means destroyed. So well had he done his work that even in the hour of Japan's triumph he still managed to find tools in the corrupt servants of the Emperor, and when he had taken his departure for Shanghai more than one attempt to communicate with him had to be frustrated by the Japanese. [Sidenote: The Korean Emperor] For the time being, however, the star of Japan was unquestionably in the ascendant at Seoul. The Emperor hastened to congratulate the Mikado on the victory of his fleet, and assured him that in view of Korea's position her satisfaction equalled that of the Japanese. At the same time the Korean local officials were ordered by the central Government to give every facility to the invading troops. [Sidenote: A Japanese Protectorate] But a more definite acknowledgment of Japanese supremacy followed. On February 23rd an important agreement was signed at Seoul by M. Hayashi, the Minister of the Mikado, and General Yi-Chi-Yong, the Korean Minister for Foreign Affairs. By the terms of this Protocol, Korea, "convinced of Japan's friendship," undertook to adopt the advice of the Japanese Government in regard to administrative reform "with a view to consolidating the peace of the Orient." On the other hand, Japan guaranteed the safety of the Imperial family and the independence and territorial integrity of Korea. In pursuance of this provision, the fourth Article declared that an encroachment by a third Power, or an internal disturbance resulting in danger to either of these interests, would justify prompt measures on the part of Japan, who would receive assistance from Korea, and in order to give effect to such action Japan might occupy strategical points in Korea if necessary. [Sidenote: Advantage to Japan] The object of this agreement was, of course, to regularize Japan's position in the eyes of the Powers and at the same time to give a sop to the dignity of Korea. Its most important point, as far as the future was concerned, was the definite guarantee on the part of Japan of the independence and territorial integrity of the Hermit Kingdom. The significance of this action of the Mikado's Government, as foretelling the lines of their permanent policy in the event of a final victory over the forces of the Czar, was heightened by the visit to Seoul a few weeks afterwards, on a special mission, of Japan's most famous statesman, the Marquis Ito. The attention was reciprocated by the dispatch of a special envoy from the Korean Court to Tokio. The most important immediate effect, however, of the complete ascendancy now acquired by Japan at Seoul was of military rather than of civil interest. This was the granting of a concession to the Japanese under Article 4 of the Protocol, for the construction of the projected railway between Seoul and Wiju, on the Yalu River, while at the same time arrangements were made for the completion of the southern portion of the line between Seoul and Fusan, a port at the southern extremity of Korea. [Sidenote: Railway Building] Here the marvelous organization of the Japanese War Office came into evidence once more. All the preparations for acting upon this concession had already been made. The material which had been intended for the construction of some unimportant railways in Japan was at hand ready to be transferred to the seat of war, and the engineer and pioneer corps only waited for the conclusion of the necessary formalities to begin operations. On March 8th a body of 8,000 men started work on the line between Seoul and Wiju, and the enterprise was conducted at high pressure, the material being conveyed with all possible speed by steamers from Japan. The value of this railway for strategical purposes will be obvious to anyone who studies the map; and, more fortunate than the Russians, the Japanese, provided that they could hold the northern part of Korea at all, were not likely to be faced with the difficulties which had proved so embarrassing to their enemy, in the shape of brigands and train-wreckers, in Manchuria. The completion of the whole line as far as Fusan would furthermore make them practically independent of sea transport for men as well as supplies, except, of course, as far as the narrow Korean Channel is concerned. [Sidenote: Japanese Rapidity] It will thus be seen that, considering the inevitable delay due to the severity of the season, the preparations for a general advance by the Japanese army had been conducted with remarkable celerity and success, and that by the middle of March great progress had been made. We must now turn to the Russian side of the war. [Sidenote: Dismay at St. Petersburg] One of the first consequences of the reverses at Port Arthur was a change in the commands. The unexpected collapse of the Russian navy under the attacks of the despised Japanese caused grave searchings of heart at St. Petersburg, and there can be no doubt that the Czar himself was greatly shocked by the revelation both of the lack of readiness of his fleet and of the strange paralysis of enterprise on the part of the Admiral in command. It was not long before the Imperial displeasure was visited upon this officer, Admiral Starck. On the 16th of February he was formally superseded, and Admiral Makaroff, Commander-in-Chief at Kronstadt, and a sailor of proved energy and skill, was appointed to the command of the Pacific Fleet in his place. The official reason, indeed, which was given out for Admiral Starck's recall was "ill-health," but this ingenious euphemism deceived nobody, the less so because the same mysterious complaint simultaneously seized hold of Rear-Admiral Molas, his second Chief of the Staff, who was recalled in the same Imperial Ukase. [Sidenote: Alexeieff Criticized] The Viceroy himself did not escape criticism at the hands of the Russian public, and in official circles at St. Petersburg keen censure was bestowed upon him for his share in the disasters which had befallen the fleet under his control; but he still appeared to retain the confidence of his master the Czar. It soon became apparent, however, that the military problem in Manchuria presented difficulties of its own hardly less embarrassing than those which were being experienced at sea, and as the magnitude of the task dawned upon the Czar and his advisers, it was deemed necessary to take drastic measures. On February 21st, therefore, the celebrated General Kuropatkin, Minister for War, and the first Russian military strategist of the day, was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the land forces in the Far East. It was carefully explained that Admiral Alexeieff, as a naval officer, could not be expected to conduct great operations on land, but it was apparent to everyone that as these land operations were now destined finally to decide the issue of the great conflict, the direction of the whole war on the Russian side had virtually passed to General Kuropatkin. [Sidenote: General Kuropatkin] Some slight account of this famous captain may not be out of place here. Like so many of Russia's distinguished men, both in the past and in the present, Alexis Nikolaievitch Kuropatkin has owed his rise rather to merit than to influence. His family was indeed a noble one, but it was little known, and his early advancement in the service was due to his own ability and industry, and not to high connections. When quite young, however, he was fortunate enough to attract the attention of the celebrated Skobeleff, and he became a great favorite as well as a zealous disciple of that famous cavalry leader. His opportunity came in the Russo-Turkish War, where he displayed notable dash and gallantry, risking his life recklessly in the terrible conflict at Plevna. In crossing the Balkans he captured a large Turkish force, and was promoted to the command of a division. Towards the close of the war he became Chief of the Staff to Skobeleff, and in the campaign against the Turkomans, which followed, and which resulted in the conquest of Turkestan, he served that great General in the same capacity. His rise was indeed remarkably rapid; promotion came to him while he was young and active enough to make the best use of it; and although he had held the highest position in the army--the Ministry for War--for some years, his age was now only fifty-six. Like most successful men, he was not without his critics and detractors--it was said indeed that among these was to be found Admiral Alexeieff himself, and that there was no love lost between the two--but there can be no doubt of the General's immense popularity with the army. His appointment to the supreme command caused a universal feeling of relief to spread not only throughout the Service, but throughout all classes of society in Russia, while at the same time it proved that the real seriousness of the task which lay then in the Far East had at last been grasped by the Czar's Government. [Sidenote: Confessions of Weakness] For a time indeed the haughty disdain of their puny foe, which had characterized Russian official circles before the war, was succeeded by a feeling of acute pessimism. To prepare the public for the worst, an official _communique_ was issued at St. Petersburg, in which, after an outburst of well affected indignation against the so-called treachery of the enemy, the people were warned that much time was necessary in order to strike at Japan blows "worthy of the dignity and might of Russia," while the state of unpreparedness on land as well as at sea was revealed in the phrase, "the distance of the territory now attached and the desire of the Czar to maintain peace were the causes of the impossibility of preparations for war being made a long time in advance." Simultaneously with the issue of this extraordinary confession came the news that Admiral Alexeieff with his staff had left Port Arthur and proceeded to Harbin, at the junction of the Manchurian railway and the branch line to Vladivostock, there to effect a concentration of all the available Russian forces. [Sidenote: Desperate Efforts] These facts combined were generally taken as indicating the intention of the Czar's Government to abandon Port Arthur and Southern Manchuria, for the time being, to their fate, and to make the first real stand against the enemy on the borders of Eastern Siberia. Desperate, however, as the situation appeared to be in these early days of the war, it undoubtedly improved somewhat in the next few weeks, and the delay which the severe climatic conditions imposed upon the Japanese advance necessarily aided the Russians. General Linevitch, commander of the Siberian Army Corps, to whom the direction of military affairs was entrusted pending the arrival of General Kuropatkin, made desperate exertions to collect an effective force as far south as possible, and it was regarded as highly probable, from such scraps of news as were allowed to creep through the censorship, that by the third week of March he had at his disposal in Southern Manchuria a force of about 50,000 men, the bulk of which was concentrated at Liao-Yang, some forty or fifty miles below Mukden. [Sidenote: On the Yalu] At the same time a smaller body of troops held the Yalu River, and patrols were sent southwards. As early as February 28th, one of these patrols, consisting of three Cossacks under the command of Lieutenant Lonchakoff, came into touch with a Japanese patrol outside Ping-Yang. The Japanese retreated, and the Russians, after advancing within 700 paces of the town, retired also before the sharp fire directed upon them from the walls. This was the first land skirmish of the war; it was a small affair of outposts only; and a long interval was to elapse before a more serious conflict could become possible. [Sidenote: Round Niuchwang] Important, however, as were the events occurring in Korea, it was felt by experts in Europe that the most momentous developments on land were destined to take place on the western shore of the Liao-tung Peninsula, and that the advance upon the Yalu was really intended to cover a blow at a spot more vital to Russia's power. But here, by the nature of things, the movements of the Japanese could not be so rapid. As already indicated, the ice-bound condition of the Liao-tung coast prevented any landing operations in that quarter before the end of March or the beginning of April, when the frozen belt usually begins to break up. As soon as the advancing spring brought about the changed state of affairs it was apparent that a descent in force would become practicable to the Japanese both at Kinchau in Society Bay, where the peninsula narrows down to a mere neck of land, and, more important still, at Niuchwang, the treaty port at the north of the gulf. At either of these spots it would be comparatively easy to cut the Manchurian railway and sever communication between Port Arthur and the Russian headquarters, but the seizure of Niuchwang would be of much greater consequence than that of Kinchau, as it would place the invading army within easy striking distance of Mukden itself. Furthermore, the very process of the break up of the ice at Niuchwang, as long as it lasts, is favorable in some respects to the landing of an army. In winter the river is frozen out to sea for a considerable distance, and thus, when the spring arrives, the estuary presents the appearance of several square miles of moving ice-floes, tossed hither and thither by the swift and devious currents, and rendering the task of laying mines for the defence of the port practically impossible. Another advantage possessed by the Japanese in attacking from this quarter lay in the physical character of the country and in the friendliness of its inhabitants. The boggy nature of the land threatened to deprive the Russian cavalry of half its usefulness, while it was eminently suited for the movements of infantry, in which Japan found her greatest strength; on the other hand, the Japanese had made themselves very popular with the inhabitants during their war with China, and could depend upon the natives for ample supplies. [Illustration: THE CZAR.] [Illustration: THE MIKADO.] [Sidenote: Martial Law Proclaimed] The extreme probability on all these grounds of a Japanese descent upon Niuchwang was doubtless evident to the Russians themselves, for they made great exertions to put the port into a state of defence, and their concentration at Liao-Yang, fifty miles or so to the north, was clearly designed to meet danger from this quarter. Niuchwang itself, however, is not very easily defended against a strong force attacking from the sea. The forts are of little avail against the guns of powerful men-of-war; and therefore, although General Kondrotovitch, the able officer in command, had done his best to strengthen the defences of the town, and was said to have some twenty or thirty thousand troops at his disposal by the end of March, it seemed clear that this was a vitally weak spot in Russia's extended front. On Monday, March 28th, the Russian authorities at Niuchwang declared martial law in this "neutral port" in the following terms: According to an order issued by the Viceroy of his Imperial Majesty in the Far East, the Port of Ying-kow has been proclaimed under martial law. Until the publication of the order the following regulations will be enforced, and will be brought into immediate operation: (1) Martial law extends over the town and port of Ying-kow, over the whole population, without distinction of nationalities. (2) All passengers and cargoes arriving must undergo examination. For this purpose steamers, sailing vessels and junks, having entered the mouth of the river, must anchor at a distance of six miles below the fort. A steam-launch, during daylight, with a naval and Customs officer on board, will meet the vessels at that spot. They will examine the vessels and conduct them to berths allotted by the Customs officers. (3) The import of arms and ammunition is prohibited. (4) It is prohibited to export to any ports of Japan or Korea articles of military contraband. (5) When exporting articles to neutral ports the shipper must deposit with the Customs security equal to the value of the cargo, as a guarantee that the cargo shall not be reshipped from a neutral port to Japanese or Korean ports. (6) Lightships and leading marks will temporarily cease to be used at the mouth of the river. (7) When dealing with articles of contraband of war, the regulations sanctioned by his Majesty on February 14th, 1904, are to serve for the guidance of the military and civil authorities of the town and port of Ying-kow, who must be guided by the published regulations defending the administration of the provinces. (8) If beans and beancake are exported, a sum equal to twice their value must be deposited with the Customs. (Signed) VICTOR GROSSE. CHAPTER IV. Firing on the Unarmed--Snowstorms and Bitter Frost--Reconnoitring at Vladivostock--At the Mouth of the Golden Horn--Careful Japanese Calculation--Bombardment at Long Range--Russian Ships Lying Low--Makaroff to the Rescue--A Chance for Russian Torpedoes--Sea Fight at Close Quarters--Severe Casualties--Another Hot Fight--Unprecedented Japanese Daring--Carnage Indescribable--Makaroff Outpaced--A Useless Prize--Bombardment by Wireless Telegraphy--Port Arthur a Hell--Golden Hill Silenced--Terrific Missiles--A Vivid Picture--Blood, Blood Everywhere--Further Naval Movements--Hoist with its own Petard--Another Attempt to "Bottle"--Makaroff's Feint--Wary Enemies--Russians Taking Heart--Individual Heroism. [Sidenote: Firing on the Unarmed] We must now return to the naval operations; but before dealing with the proceedings of Admiral Togo's fleet off Port Arthur, it will be well perhaps briefly to follow the fortunes of the Russian cruiser squadron stationed at Vladivostock, of which so much had been expected as an agency for the destruction of Japanese commerce on the high seas. The first news received of these cruisers after the outbreak of war did indeed appear to bear out the hopes which the Russians had entertained of them in this respect; but after one solitary exploit--the sinking of a Japanese merchantman--the squadron disappeared from view altogether, and for several weeks its movements became one of the most remarkable mysteries of a mysterious situation. It will be remembered that the vessels composing the squadron were the powerful first-class cruisers, the _Gromoboi_, the _Bogatyr_, the _Rossia_, and the _Rurik_, and the whole was under the command of Captain Reitzenstein, formerly the commander of the _Askold_. Apparently the orders given to the Commodore were to cruise about the coast of Manchuria and Japan with the object of picking off stray merchantmen belonging to the enemy, and it was while he was acting in pursuance of these instructions that Captain Reitzenstein, on February 11th, fell in with two Japanese steamers--the _Nakonoura Maru_ and the _Zensko Maru_, off the Tsugaru Straits, which lie between the islands of Hondo--the Japanese mainland--and Yezo. The larger of the two, the _Nakonoura Maru_, was an old ship, built in 1865, and of 1,084 tons burden; the smaller, the _Zensko Maru_, of only 319 tons, was quite modern, having been built in 1895. They were bound in company from Sokata, in the province of Nizan, to Otaru, in Yezo. The older and slower boat fell an easy prey to the Russian cruisers; but it would seem that she offered fight, for she was surrounded by the men-of-war, bombarded, and sunk, her crew being taken on board the Russian ships. This act called forth a great outburst of indignation in Japan and also in the United States; for though, of course, a merchantman can justifiably be captured as a prize of war, it is not usual to destroy an unarmed ship out of hand. The official telegrams, however, gave no particulars as to the extent of the resistance offered, and it must be allowed that if the _Nakonoura Maru_ absolutely refused to surrender, the Russian men-of-war would have no option but to fire upon her and let her take the inevitable consequences. The _Zensko Maru_, more fortunate than her consort, showed the Russians a clear pair of heels and escaped safely to the shelter of the port of Fukuyama, in Yezo. [Sidenote: Snowstorms and Bitter Frost] This insignificant feat of arms was the sole success in the way of the destruction of commerce which could be put to the credit of Captain Reitzenstein's squadron in the early days of the war, and the fates soon proved unkind to him. The stormy weather which inconvenienced the Mikado's fleet off Port Arthur raged in the Japan Sea with peculiar severity, and for three days after the destruction of the _Nakonoura Maru_ the Russian squadron flew before a heavy gale, aggravated by snowstorms and bitter frost. An official message from Admiral Alexeieff reporting these facts was the last authentic news of the Vladivostock squadron that reached the outside world for many weeks. Rumor upon the subject was, of course, busy in Russia. Now it was reported that the activity of Captain Reitzenstein had reduced the over-sea trade of Japan to a standstill; now it was stated (on the best authority, of course) that the squadron had escaped, and evading the Mikado's ships in some marvelous fashion, had joined the Russian fleet at Port Arthur; still a third and wilder story made out that it was on its way to Europe to effect a junction with the Baltic fleet, which, it was declared, was to be dispatched to the Far East in July. The truth appears to have been that after infinite trouble and hardship Captain Reitzenstein managed once more to make Vladivostock, and that his storm-tossed ships took refuge again in the harbor, into which a free passage was maintained by the efforts of the ice-breakers. [Sidenote: Reconnoitring at Vladivostock] The Japanese Commanders, however, were ignorant of the whereabouts of this dangerous force, and a strong squadron was therefore sent into Japan Sea to search it out, and, if possible, destroy it altogether. The fleet dispatched for this purpose consisted of one battleship and six cruisers, with a torpedo-destroyer flotilla. The cruisers, it should be observed, included the newly-acquired _Nisshin_ and _Kasaga_, which had just been fitted up for war. Rear-Admiral Kamimura, Admiral Togo's second in command at Port Arthur, had direction of the operations, no word of which was allowed at the time to leak out through the ordinary channels. A careful patrol was made of the whole of the coast, both of Manchuria and Japan, several days of this close search finally bringing the Japanese squadron to the very mouth of Vladivostock Harbor itself. Considerable excitement was caused in Russia's northern stronghold when, at 8.50 on the morning of March 6th, without any previous warning of the approaching danger, the garrison perceived the hulls of seven great vessels loom upon the horizon to the south of Askold Island. The presence of the enemy so far north was wholly unexpected, and for some time the real character of the advancing squadron was in doubt. But within an hour all speculation was set at rest and the approaching vessels were seen to be flying the Japanese flag. The great size and imposing aspect of the new cruisers led the Russians to take them for battleships, whence they derived the mistaken idea that Admiral Togo was present himself with his main fleet. As a matter of fact, of course, the Japanese Commander-in-Chief, with scarcely diminished forces, was still watching Port Arthur as a cat watches a mouse, and the circumstance that he could without difficulty spare so powerful a squadron for operations in a far distant quarter of the theatre of war was at once a striking demonstration of Japan's naval strength and of the straits to which the Czar's fleet had been reduced. [Sidenote: At the Mouth of the Golden Horn] By noon Admiral Kamimura's ships were half-way between the coast and Askold Island, making straight for Ussuri Bay, which lies to the southeast of Vladivostock. At the southern end of the peninsula on which the town and fortress of Vladivostock stand, and divided from it by a broad channel called the Bosphorus Strait, there is situated the Island of Kazakavitch. The Bosphorus Strait lies in a northwesterly direction, and on the north side of it are two spacious inlets, Patroclus Bay and Sobol Bay. Beyond these again lies the mouth of the Golden Horn, the Harbor of Vladivostock. [Sidenote: Careful Japanese Calculation] The Japanese squadron steamed right on into the Bosphorus Strait, and when opposite Patroclus Bay it assumed order of battle. Admiral Alexeieff, in his official dispatch to the Czar, declared that it took up a position 5-1/2 miles from the shore and out of range of the batteries; but the truth seems to be that, with the skill which so far has characterized all the Japanese naval operations, Admiral Kamimura manoeuvred to secure a station, which, while it was sufficiently within range to enable him to do execution to his foe, was, on the other hand, outside any possible line of fire from the fortress guns, with their necessarily limited arc of training. These dispositions for attack argued not only careful calculation beforehand, but considerable knowledge of the construction of the Russian forts and of the position occupied by their ordnance. [Sidenote: Bombardment at Long Range] At half-past one the Japanese ships opened fire with their big guns. Forts Suvaroff and Linievitch and the town along the valley of the River Obyasseniye were the main objects of the cannonade, and over these the great shells continued to burst for close upon an hour, while the guns of the defenders were reduced to inactivity and impotence by the baffling tactics of the Japanese Admiral. It is true that the bombardment was rather in the nature of a reconnaissance than a serious engagement, its aim being to induce the mysterious cruisers which were suspected of being within the harbor to issue forth and give battle; but it was an uncomfortable reminder to the Russians of the vulnerability of their powerful fortress from the sea and of the comparative immunity which a resourceful enemy might enjoy while making a dangerous attack. The only account which has been received of the damage done comes from Russian sources. It does not appear to have been serious. A house in the town was knocked to pieces by a 12-inch shell, and an unfortunate woman, who was inside at the time, was killed; another shell burst in the courtyard of the Siberian Fleet Company, slightly wounding five sailors; but this was set down as the limit to the depredation committed by the Japanese gunners. On the other hand, the Russians consoled themselves for the ineffectiveness of their own artillery by calculating that the bombardment, by its expenditure of 200 shells, cost their enemy at least $100,000, a somewhat minute and peddling method of reckoning up the balance of losses and gains in a great war. It should be added that the Czar did not fail to send the garrison a rather magniloquent telegram of congratulation, in which he spoke of their bravery under their baptism of fire. [Illustration: RAID BY THE VLADIVOSTOCK FLEET.] [Sidenote: Russian Ships Lying Low] The demonstration failed to disclose the whereabouts of the missing cruiser squadron, and a similar result attended the scouting operations of the Japanese torpedo destroyers which were engaged during the bombardment in searching Askold Island and the coast along the Ussuri Gulf. It seemed undoubted, however, in the light of subsequent events, that the Czar's ships were within the harbor at Vladivostock all the time, and that they felt unable to cope successfully with the powerful fleet which was so eagerly seeking their destruction. Admiral Kamimura, who retired southwards after the bombardment, returned on the following day to the same position, and attempted once more to lure the hidden cruisers into the open; but his blandishments were without avail. He then conducted a thorough search of Amur Bay, which lies on the west side of the peninsula, and finding no traces of the enemy, departed finally southwards, leaving Vladivostock, for the time, in peace. [Sidenote: Makaroff to the Rescue] The interest now shifted once more to Port Arthur, where exciting events were on the eve of occurring. Admiral Makaroff, the newly-appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific Fleet, arrived at Port Arthur on the 8th of March. This gallant Admiral's reputation stands almost as high with the navy as does General Kuropatkin's with the army. He has gained the confidence of the men who have served under him to an exceptional degree, and the immediate result of his presence at the seat of war was the infusion of a new spirit into the fleet and into the defending force generally. With immense vigor he proceeded to hurry on the repairs of the damaged warships and to prepare for active operations as the best means of restoring the somewhat shaken _morale_ of the force under his command. The effect of this bolder and more enterprising policy soon became evident in the movements of the torpedo flotilla, which, under the feeble régime of Admiral Starck, had proved such a futile branch of the service. An opportunity for the trial of the new tactics came almost immediately, for within twenty-four hours after the hoisting of Admiral Makaroff's flag on the _Askold_, a renewed challenge came from the unresting enemy. It was destined to lead to one of the fiercest and most sanguinary combats yet experienced in the course of the war, a combat of such a close and hand-to-hand character as to recall the desperate struggles of earlier days, when the rival ships were grappled together and the final arbiters of victory were the cutlass and the boarding-pike. [Sidenote: A Chance for Russian Torpedoes] At midnight on the 9th two divisions of the Japanese destroyer flotilla crept up once more towards the mouth of the entrance channel. The first division, consisting of three vessels, the _Asashio_, the _Kasumi_, and the _Akatsuki_, and under the command of Captain Asai, posted itself outside the entrance to guard against the approach of the Russian flotilla; while the second division occupied itself in laying a number of mines of a new pattern in various spots carefully selected beforehand for the purpose. These operations were carried out with entire coolness and success, in spite of the flashing searchlights and the fire from the forts--fire, however, which, according to Admiral Togo's official report, was desultory and ineffective. The fact was that on this occasion the Russians were determined to rely upon another weapon than garrison ordnance. Admiral Makaroff decided to give his torpedo destroyers the chance for which they must have longed under the nerveless leadership of Starck, and to send them forth to deliver a counter-attack upon the audacious foe. [Sidenote: Sea Fight at Close Quarters] A flotilla of six of these vessels, under the command of Captain Matoussevitch, accordingly issued from the harbor and went in quest of the Japanese. About 4.30 in the morning they fell in with Captain Asai's Division to the southwest of the Liau-tie-shan Peninsula. Though his foes outnumbered him by two to one, the Japanese commander did not hesitate for an instant, but, confident in the skill and courage of his men, he ordered an immediate attack, and the _Asashio_, the _Kasumi_, and the _Akatsuki_ flew upon the enemy. A fierce struggle now ensued. The Japanese were heavily outnumbered, it is true, but their vessels were stronger individually than those of the Russians, and whereas the latter were armed only with 3-pounders, the former carried 6-pounders. Moreover, both officers and men had "found themselves" in previous conflicts, and were flushed with a consciousness of power and the memory of past victories. Their shooting, too was superior to that of their opponents, and speedily made its impression. On the other hand, the Russians, set free at last from the paralyzing influences which had so long cramped their energies, leapt to the contest with a glad eagerness, and fought with desperate gallantry. The combatants drew closer and closer to one another till they were within a few yards' distance, and the execution done by the quick-firing guns was terrible. So near did one of the Russian destroyers approach that some bluejackets standing on its deck were able to throw by hand a charge of explosive onto the bridge of a Japanese boat. Fortunately for the latter, it failed to explode, and the Japanese poured in a withering fire in revenge. Two of the Russian vessels were so severely mauled during the early part of the fight that they were compelled to sheer off and retreat to Port Arthur. The others kept up the conflict much longer, though they were hopelessly outclassed. But a perfect rain of shell and small shot fell upon the devoted Muscovites; their engines were rapidly becoming disabled; some of them were on fire; and at last it became manifest that if they were to be saved at all they must retire. Retreat, therefore, they did, fighting hotly all the way, with the enemy hanging upon their flanks like hounds upon their quarry. At length they came within the protection of the forts, and the heavy fire which was directed upon the Japanese from that quarter compelled them sullenly to give up their hold and in their turn retire. [Sidenote: Severe Casualties] The losses suffered by the Russian destroyers, in this hand-to-hand conflict, which lasted for about forty minutes, were not made public officially, but they must have been considerable, if we may judge from the damage incurred by their victorious assailants. Seven of the Japanese were killed and eight were wounded, some of them severely. Prominent among these was Engineer Minamisawa, of the _Kasumi_, who peculiarly distinguished himself, and who received injuries which were reported as likely to prove mortal. This gallant officer had already covered himself with glory in the first torpedo attack upon Port Arthur, and in the heroic but fruitless attempt to block the harbor entrance on the 23rd of February. The damage done to the Japanese destroyers themselves was serious enough, but not such as to unfit them for service in a few days. The _Akatsuki_ received a shell in her stokehold, which burst a pipe and filled the compartment with scalding steam--an accident which alone accounted for four of the lives which were lost. All three destroyers had their hulls and upper works knocked about by the Russian shells, but the injuries were above the water-line, and were made good with little difficulty. [Sidenote: Another Hot Fight] An even hotter and, for the Russians, more disastrous conflict took place a few hours later. As the second division of the Japanese flotilla, under Captain Tsuehiya, was leaving the roadstead at 7 A. M., having concluded its work of laying submarine mines, it encountered two other Russian destroyers which had been further out to sea to reconnoitre, and were now returning to Port Arthur. The Japanese at once threw themselves across the course of the newcomers to intercept them. The Russians, though on this occasion the outnumbered party, were nothing loth to face the danger which confronted them, and advanced to meet it with unquenchable ardor. An engagement of an even more terrible character than that held three hours previously now took place, and lasted for upwards of fifty-five minutes. The Russians fought with the courage of despair, and succeeded in putting one of their formidable opponents out of action for the time, though the damage done was not ultimately irreparable. This feat was performed by the _Stereguschtshi_, commanded by Captain Sergueieff, which was more heavily armed than her companion, and carried a 12-pounder in addition to her ordinary 3-pounders. A shell from this weapon struck the Japanese destroyer on the water-line and flooded two of her water-tight compartments. The supply of quick-firing ammunition was wetted and rendered useless, so that the vessel was unable to take any further active share in the conflict. Nor was this the only injury she sustained. Another shell burst upon her bridge, shivering it to fragments. One man was killed; but a lieutenant, a sub-lieutenant, and a signaller, who were on the bridge at the time, in some miraculous manner escaped. The terrible missile also carried away the binnacle and the engine-room telegraph instruments, and sent the davits flying. [Sidenote: Unprecedented Japanese Daring] It was clear that the 12-pounder of the _Stereguschtshi_ was too dangerous a weapon to be neglected, and, therefore, the other Japanese destroyers concentrated their fire upon it, with the result that in a short time it was completely dismantled and put out of action. In these operations the _Sazanami_ played the most conspicuous part. She drew up so close upon the _Stereguschtshi's_ quarter that one of her bluejackets with extraordinary daring actually leaped on board the Russian vessel, cutlass in hand. Just as he landed on the deck Captain Sergueieff emerged from his cabin. The impetuous Jap rushed at him like a tiger, and, beating down his guard, struck him a fearful blow on the head with his cutlass, felling him to the deck. The Russian attempted to rise, but before he could do so his terrible opponent kicked him overboard and he sank beneath the waves. [Sidenote: Carnage Indescribable] Undismayed by the death of their captain, the crew of the _Stereguschtshi_ still fought on with desperate gallantry against the raking fire of the _Sazanami_. The lieutenant took over the command, but immediately afterwards a shell carried away both his legs, and he fell dead at his post. To him succeeded the sub-lieutenant, who endeavored bravely but in vain to bring the little vessel, wounded almost to the death as it was, into the shelter of the forts. He almost succeeded in his heroic attempt, but the implacable foe was not to be shaken off. The man at the wheel fell mortally wounded, and as the young lieutenant stepped forward to take it from his dying grasp he became himself the target of the terrible fusillade and dropped dead among his fallen brothers. Now at last, with hardly a man out of her crew of fifty-five still living, the _Stereguschtshi_ lay a helpless log upon the waters, awaiting the long-deferred capture, but the fire from the forts rendered the task of taking her in tow an extremely dangerous one. Nevertheless, a Japanese lieutenant and a party of bluejackets from the _Sazanami_ boarded her with a rope and made her fast. The deck of the Russian destroyer presented a horrible spectacle. Everywhere lay the corpses of her gallant crew, in some cases terribly mutilated by shell. Even in the few hurried moments at his disposal the Japanese lieutenant was able to count thirty bodies; the appearance of the stokehold defied description. Two stokers jumped overboard, and were picked up by the Japanese. The only other survivors were two sailors, who, directly the enemy boarded the vessel, rushed out of the conning tower, and, taking refuge in the after cabin, locked themselves in and refused absolutely to surrender. [Sidenote: Makaroff Outpaced] Now began the slow and laborious work of towing the captured boat out of range of the shore batteries, whose attentions were becoming embarrassing and dangerous. Moreover, a new peril threatened the Japanese. Admiral Makaroff, perceiving the plight of the _Stereguschtshi_, had hoisted his flag on the _Novik_, and sallied forth with that cruiser and the _Bayan_, to the rescue. The other destroyer, it should be mentioned, thanks to the diversion caused by the heroic stand made by her consort, had in the meantime managed to reach the harbor. Things began to look black for the _Sazanami_, as the Russian cruisers were rapidly approaching; but Admiral Togo was not to be caught napping, and his own cruiser squadron was not far away. Several of his ships advanced to the assistance of the plucky little destroyer, and finding himself outnumbered and outpaced, Makaroff reluctantly abandoned his attempt and steamed back to the protection of the forts. [Sidenote: A Useless Prize] The _Sazanami_, however, was not destined to save her prize. The sea was rough, and the Russian destroyer, riddled with holes, steadily began to fill with water. After two hours' towing it became apparent that her condition was desperate, and the Japanese were compelled to cut the rope. A few moments afterwards the hapless prize gave one last lurch and sank beneath the waves with her tragic freight of dead. It was impossible to reach the two men in the cabin, and they perished with their ship. [Sidenote: Bombardment by Wireless Telegraphy] Thus ended one of the hottest conflicts yet experienced in the course of the naval fighting around Port Arthur. But this sanguinary affair was only the prelude to more important operations. Admiral Togo had made his arrangement for a bombardment of the town and fortress of the heaviest description, arrangements which, like the manoeuvres of Admiral Kamimura at Vladivostock, were conceived in the spirit of the most scientific warfare. As long as the Russian fleet remained undestroyed he was under an imperative necessity to risk his ships as little as possible against the great guns of the Port Arthur batteries, but to conduct a successful bombardment without coming within the range of their fire presented obvious difficulties. An indirect cannonade from Pigeon Bay, on the southwest side of the Liau-tie-shan Peninsula, would indeed deprive the enemy of any opportunity of replying with effect, but on the other hand in ordinary circumstances the gunners of the attacking fleet would also have to aim very much at random, without being able to judge the results of their shooting. Nevertheless this difficulty was cleverly obviated by the Japanese Admiral. While stationing his battleships in Pigeon Bay he dispatched his cruiser squadron to take a position on the east side of Port Arthur Bay, at right angles to the line of fire, to observe the effects of the bombardment, and to communicate suggestions by wireless telegraphy during its progress. The post of the cruisers in turn was adroitly selected so that while they could see what was going on, they were outside the angle of fire of the forts. [Illustration: THE TOKIO MILITARY HOSPITAL--OFFICERS QUARTERS.] [Sidenote: Port Arthur a Hell] These careful dispositions were completed by ten o'clock on the morning of the 10th, and at that hour once more "the red fire and smouldering clouds out brake." For close upon five hours a storm of shells was poured upon the devoted fortress. The defending guns attempted to return the fire, but their efforts were intermittent and ineffective. On the other hand, the great projectiles from the 12-inch guns of the Japanese battleships wrought immense havoc both in the forts and in the town. A shell burst close to the house of a lawyer named Sidorski, and wrecked the building; M. Sidorski himself was killed on the spot. The wife of Colonel Baron Frank, who was in the house at the time, sustained terrible injuries, and her daughter's head was blown off. A young lady named Waleritsch was so seriously wounded by another shell that she died soon after her removal to the hospital. An English advocate, a Mr. Newton, was blown to pieces. The house of General Volkoff was completely destroyed, and two sentries only just escaped death. A train which was entering the town from the North was struck by a 12-inch shell; the engine was shattered into a thousand fragments and the driver was killed. And now to add to the horrors of the situation, fires began to break out in various quarters of the town, and the panic-stricken inhabitants fled to the race course, where, behind the shelter of the hills, they were able to find some respite from the terrible tornado which had burst upon them. [Sidenote: Golden Hill Silenced] While all this devastation was being hurled upon the town, the forts themselves were passing through a hot time. The Japanese, assisted by the skilful manoeuvre before described, had found the range for their high angle fire perfectly, whereas the batteries of the defending force could do little or nothing in return. The official accounts issued from the Russian side, while admitting the severity when the bombardment visited the town, said little about the damage to the fortifications or the losses sustained by the garrison; but the reports received from other and independent sources, while varying a good deal in details, agreed in representing the total result as being of the most serious character. It is said that twenty soldiers were killed and that many more were wounded. The Governor of Port Arthur himself, General Stoessel, who was on the batteries during the hottest of the fire, had a narrow escape. A shell burst near to the spot on which he was standing with his staff, and bespattered the whole party with splinters and sand. The forts on Golden Hill suffered severely, and two guns were put out of action. Nor did the ships in the harbor come off scatheless. Heavy casualties among their crews were reported, and it was stated that the unfortunate _Retvisan_, which had already borne so much, received still further damage. The Port Arthur journal, the _Novi Krai_, gave a terrible picture of the scenes on the cruiser _Bayan_. "The bursting shells," said the writer, "bowled over man after man until the decks were slippery with blood. Amidst this hell the captain stood unmoved in the conning tower calmly telephoning his orders to the captains of the guns. His wonderful coolness had a remarkable influence on all the officers. The cockpit was soon crowded with wounded, thirty-nine men being brought down before the fight ended. "Amid the crash of the guns, the hiss of the flying projectiles, and the thunder of their explosions, the smashing of splinters, and the din of the working engines, the surgeons labored quietly among the wounded on the hospital operating table. Although some of the men suffered frightful agony, few groans were heard, in spite of the fact that anæsthetics were only administered in one case." [Illustration: SKETCH PLAN OF PORT ARTHUR'S MAIN FORTIFICATIONS.] [Sidenote: Terrific Missiles] For hours that to the heart-shaken inhabitants must have appeared interminable, the great shells, each of the enormous weight of 850 lbs., continued to hurtle through the air and to burst over the harassed stronghold. The sensations of a garrison in such circumstances are well described in a letter which a wounded Russian officer wrote from the hospital in Port Arthur to a friend in Russia. He is recounting his experiences of the first bombardment, but the account is so vivid and would apply so well to the more trying ordeal of the 10th of March that it will bear reproduction here. [Sidenote: A Vivid Picture] "The sea," he says, "is quite white from the falling shells, and it is impossible to hear the words of command. I cry out until my voice becomes hoarse, but cannot make myself heard above the din. There are more than 150 cannon belching forth smoke, shell and death. There is a wild, choking sound from the machine guns. Amid the smoke, steam and dust I hear a groan, it is that of a soldier whose nose has been torn away by the fragment of a shell. He is surrounded by stretcher bearers. Someone lays his hand on my shoulder, and I turn and see at my side a soldier, pale, and his lips trembling. He wishes to speak, but his tongue refuses to obey. He points with his finger, and I understand what has occurred. [Illustration: FUNERAL PROCESSION OF A JAPANESE OFFICER IN YOKOHAMA.] [Sidenote: Blood--Blood Everywhere] "There beneath the cliff I hear a little battery of rapid firing guns, very small and elegant. There are 12,000 bullets speeding on their errand in sixty seconds. They are destined to defend our shores against the landing of an enemy. The orgy is at its height. The shells are bursting around us like fireworks at a feast. A whistle, a hiss, and a sharp ringing noise, as they rush through the air, then smoke and a smell of burning, while the sand dances from the earth. I turn from the battery and see a terrible picture. In the midst of the men a shell bursts. One soldier is disemboweled, and another is wounded in the head, a third is shrieking in the height of his delirium. One steel cannon is broken to pieces as though it were straw. An awful picture, with blood--blood everywhere." [Sidenote: Further Naval Movements] At last, at two o'clock, the inferno ceased. A great calm succeeded to the thunder of the guns and the screams of the shells, and the civilians of Port Arthur slowly and timidly returned to their ruined homes. The separate divisions of the Japanese fleet rejoined one another, and after the most destructive bombardment yet inflicted upon the land defences of the Russian stronghold, they quietly steamed away southwards. While these events were taking place at Port Arthur a detached squadron of the Mikado's cruisers had proceeded northeast to Dalny, or Talienwan, as it used to be called, and destroyed the quarantine buildings erected by the Russians on the Sanshan Islands. Outside that port the _Takasago_ and the _Chihaya_ scouted the western coast of the entrance to Port Arthur in the hope that the bombardment would draw Admiral Makaroff's ships into the open; but no enemy could be found and the two cruisers then retired in the wake of the main squadron. [Sidenote: Hoist With its Own Petard] It was not long before a Russian vessel fell a victim to the mines laid by the Japanese destroyers at the harbor entrance on the night of March 9th. On the 16th the _Skori_, a torpedo-boat destroyer of the newest pattern, was entering the channel when she struck upon a contact mine and was blown up. Out of her crew of fifty-five men, only four were reported to have been saved. [Sidenote: Another Attempt to Bottle] After an interval of twelve days Admiral Togo made a renewed attack upon Port Arthur, the fifth in number since the outbreak of hostilities. It was not so serious an assault as the last, its real object being to tempt the Russian fleet away from the protection of the shore batteries and to give battle at sea. In this design it was unsuccessful, but incidently it was useful, as revealing the strength of the squadron Admiral Makaroff had at his disposal after the repairs which had been effected upon the damaged ships. At midnight on the 21st two Japanese destroyers were discovered by the searchlights approaching the outer roadstead. The guns of the batteries at once gave tongue, and a violent fire was directed against the daring craft, not only from the fortress but from the gunboats _Bobe_ and _Otvagni_; which, according to Admiral Alexeieff's report to the Czar, compelled them to retire. A second flotilla crept up at 4 o'clock in the morning, and this too, it was claimed by the Viceroy, was repulsed. A different complexion, however, was put upon the operation by Admiral Togo's dispatch to his Government. The destroyers retired indeed, but seemingly not in consequence of the Russian fire, which left them unharmed, but as part of a preconceived plan to lure forth Admiral Makaroff's fleet. The Japanese Commander-in-Chief's words were: "The combined fleet acted according to program. Two flotillas of our destroyers were outside Port Arthur, as instructed, from the night of the 21st till the morning of the 22nd. Although during this time they were under the enemy's fire they did not sustain any damage." It is clear from this that the aim of the Russian gunners leaves much to be desired, for the attacking flotilla were able to cruise about in the roadsteads without being touched. [Sidenote: Makaroff's Feint] At eight o'clock on the morning of the 22nd the main fleet arrived off Port Arthur. The same tactics as were employed on the 10th were adopted on this occasion, but with some modification. Only two battleships, the _Fuji_ and the _Yashima_, were sent to Pigeon Bay to undertake an indirect bombardment of the town; while the Admiral, with his main squadron, took up a position more convenient for an attack upon the Russian fleet should it put out to sea. The cannonade lasted again for several hours, but his main purpose, that of drawing Admiral Makaroff into the open, was not successful. At one period, indeed, the hopes of the Japanese ran high. The Russian fleet was seen to issue from the harbor as if ready for battle, with the cruiser _Askold_, flying the flag of the Commander-in-Chief, at their head. It was now observed that the available naval force of the Czar at Port Arthur consisted of five battleships and four cruisers, as well as destroyers, gunboats, and torpedo-boats. The battleships of course included the _Pobieda_, 12,674 tons, and the _Sevastopol_, 10,950 tons, which were undergoing repairs when the first battle took place. None of the five, it will be remembered, was equal to the Japanese battleships, either in size or in armament, and the cruiser strength was still more disproportionate. Nevertheless, they made a gallant show, and for a time it seemed as if they were prepared to come to close quarters on blue water. Admiral Makaroff, however, bold and enterprising as he is, did not feel in a position to take such a strong step, and, to the disappointment of the Japanese, he kept his ships well within the zone of protection afforded by the shore batteries, while he joined them in returning the fire of the enemy. [Sidenote: Wary Enemies] The objects of the two Admirals were indeed identical. Each sought to bring about a battle on his own terms, and each was too wary to be persuaded. The Russian attempted to lure his enemy within the range of the forts; the Japanese endeavored to draw the Russian away from the range of the forts; and neither was successful in his blandishments. Finally, Admiral Togo gave the order to cease firing, and his fleet retired southwards once more. The Russians claimed to have struck one of their opponent's battleships; but Admiral Togo in his report distinctly stated that his ships suffered no damage, though a good many shells fell near the _Fuji_ in the course of the indirect bombardment. [Sidenote: Russians Taking Heart] Although Admiral Makaroff did not venture out to sea with his smaller squadron when the Japanese fleet was absolutely upon the spot, this did not prevent him from engaging in active operations of a much more daring character than any his predecessor had dreamt of. On the 26th, for example, he took out the whole of the ships under his command for a reconnaissance to the Hwang-Ching-Tau Islands, a group situated about thirty miles to the southwest of Port Arthur, a proceeding that must have heartened both officers and men considerably. No trace of the enemy's warships was discovered, but while the fleet was making its way back to Port Arthur, the _Novik_ fell in with a small merchant steamer, the _Hanien Maru_, on board of which were a number of Japanese newspaper correspondents. The crew were transferred to the warship and the steamer was taken in tow and subsequently sunk. The whole Russian squadron returned safely to Port Arthur after this excursion without once coming in sight of the enemy. [Illustration: A SKIRMISH BETWEEN JAPANESE AND RUSSIAN CAVALRY.] [Sidenote: Individual Heroism] But in the meantime the Japanese were busy with fresh plans. Unable to draw Admiral Makaroff away from the protection of the forts when the whole Japanese fleet was lying in wait, Admiral Togo determined to use another card in this game of skill. The project of corking up the bottle at Port Arthur, though a failure on the first attempt, had not by any means been abandoned, and on the very night of Admiral Makaroff's cruise to the Hwang-Ching-Tau Islands, a fresh effort was made to block the harbor entrance. It resulted in operations which, although again only partially successful, were most brilliantly executed, and were marked not only by consummate skill, but by acts of individual heroism and self-sacrifice of the most inspiring kind. Nor was the gallantry confined to one side alone. The Russians were not slow to accept the opportunities for glory vouchsafed to them by the daring of their foe, and one of the features of the conflict was the attack by a solitary torpedo-boat upon six of the Japanese flotilla. CHAPTER V. Volunteers for Fireships--A Drama of Searchlights--The Devil's Caldron--The Sacrifice of Fire--Heroic Hirose--Undaunted by Death--Covering Themselves with Glory--Casualties Few but Terrible--The Hero of Japan--Channel Still Unclosed--The Shadows of Fate--The Great Catastrophe--The Story of the "Petropavlovsk"--A Double Trap--Captain Oda and his Mines--The "Bayan" to the Rescue--Preparing an Ambush--Makaroff Lured Out--Cutting off the Unwary--Weather Permitting--Into the Jaws of Death--Haphazard Fire--Rescue Work--The Character of the Explosion--Accounts of Survivors--Tribute from the Japanese--On Land--Chong-Ju--The Advance to the North--Concentration of Troops--Kuroki's Line of Front--The Russian Position--Russian Confidence. [Sidenote: Volunteers for Fireships] As on the occasion of the first effort to block the harbor at Port Arthur, so upon the second a spirited competition took place among the Japanese officers and men for the honor of occupying the post of danger upon the fireships. The claim of the gallant men who had charge of the previous attempt to finish the work which they had so well begun was finally conceded, their Commander-in-Chief himself deciding the question. Four merchantmen, larger than those already sunk, had been filled with stones and explosives and were ready for the desperate enterprise. The whole fleet left the rendezvous on the 26th of March under the cover of night, and accompanied the fireships up to a distance of some miles from Port Arthur. There the Admiral gave his final orders, and escorted by a flotilla of eleven destroyers and six torpedo-boats, which were spread out fanwise in front of them, the doomed vessels started upon their last and proudest voyage. [Sidenote: A Drama of Searchlights] It was midnight when they set forth, and there was no moon. An inky darkness brooded over the waters, which lay still and calm like a village pond. No sound was heard, no light was shown on the flotilla as, steadily and inexorably, it pursued its fateful passage over the silent sea. The only ray of light visible came from the distant searchlight on Golden Hill, set like the eye of a Cyclops, in the forehead of Port Arthur. Slowly and monotonously the broad refulgent beam swept backwards across the bay, throwing into strong relief every object upon which it fell within a radius of more than two miles. Every moment it seemed to the tense expectancy of the advancing force that their presence must be revealed, but still they held on their course with calm and patient courage, and still the slow minutes dragged along without any sign of suspicion on the part of the garrison. At last, when the Japanese had approached so near that they could make out the dim contour of the fortress and the surrounding heights, the moving light settled for a moment upon the lines of the foremost torpedo-boats. Another instant and a startling change had come over the scene. Swiftly the searchlight flashed up and down, backwards and forwards it plunged and replunged upon the stealthy foe until the whole flotilla, approaching with such grim determination, lay exposed to the view of the Russian sentries. The trumpets rang out, the garrison sprang to arms, and a storm of shot and shell once more burst forth from the great guns of Golden Hill. [Sidenote: The Devil's Caldron] As the gallant Japanese made straight for the harbor entrance the batteries on the Tiger's Tail joined in the fierce cannonade, and from more than a hundred guns a hail of shells was poured down, till the still waters of the bay were torn up into a maelstrom of foam, "white as the bitten lip of hate." But the calm resolution of the attacking force was undisturbed. The fan-like formation of the escorting flotilla opened out more widely, and the fireships, passing swiftly through, drove straight into the devil's caldron in front of them. A mile away stood the point for which they aimed, a mile charged every yard of it with destruction and death. But setting their teeth dauntlessly, intent only on gaining the fateful goal, the picked crews of the merchantmen pressed forward upon their desperate errand. [Sidenote: The Sacrifice of Fire] At last they reached the harbor mouth. The leading steamer, the _Chiyo Maru_, drove straight from the east side of the channel, heedless of the terrible fire of which she was the central target. Everything was ready; the anchor was dropped; the fuse was set; and swiftly but with precision the crew slipped into the boats and made off. A moment later a terrific explosion rent the ship from stem to stern, and down she sank through the boiling waters. [Sidenote: Heroic Hirose] The next to take her position was the _Fukui Maru_, which, edging to the port side of the _Chiyo Maru_, let go her anchor. Now occurred one of the most heroic acts which had yet characterized the course of the war--an act which for cool and devoted gallantry has never been surpassed in the annals of European seamanship. Waiting until the vessel was securely anchored, the boatswain, Sujino, went calmly down to the magazine to light the fuse. Just at that moment the Russian torpedo-boat _Silni_ approached and discharged a Whitehead torpedo, which struck the _Fukui Maru_ full in the bows and tore a gaping hole in her below the water-line. Sujino was killed, but his comrades on deck were unaware of his fate. All they knew was that the Russians themselves had done their work for them and that the vessel was settling down on the very spot designed for its destruction by Admiral Togo. Commander Hirose, therefore, ordered his men to take to the boats, but before he left the ship himself he determined to find the brave Sujino if possible and save him from death. The steamer was fast sinking; the water was pouring in at her bows like a mill race; and she was the target of a perfect tornado of fire from the forts; but the gallant commander searched through her three times for the missing man before he would give up the quest. At last it became clear that further search was useless. The vessel was on the point of going down, and reluctantly Hirose clambered into one of the boats. As the crew pushed off the _Fukui Maru_ went down by the head. Success, however, was dearly purchased. The delay had enabled the Russians to concentrate their fire upon the boats with deadly effect. The chief victim himself was Commander Hirose. A shell struck him on the head, carrying away the greater part of his body, and leaving in the boat only a shapeless fragment of torn and blackened flesh. [Sidenote: Undaunted by Death] In the meanwhile, the other steamers were taking up their stations in the order provided beforehand. The _Yihiko Maru_, regardless of the terrible fire from the forts, steamed in on the port side of the _Fukui Maru_ and cast anchor in her turn. The fuse was duly set and lighted; officers and crew set off in the boats; and the ship blew up like her fellows and sank in the channel. Now came the opportunity of the fourth and last of this devoted fleet, the _Yoneyama Maru_. The difficulties of the channel and the violence of the enemy's fire led her to take a devious course, but the skill with which she was steered excited universal admiration. Her commander drove her through on the starboard side of the sunken _Chiyo Maru_ and then she was compelled to turn back and slip between that ship and the _Fukui Maru_. On her way she ran right upon a Russian destroyer and engaged it at close quarters for a few moments, but her duty was not to fight but to sink at a spot selected. Escaping therefore, from the clutches of the enemy, she rounded the _Fukui Maru_ and the _Yahiko Maru_ and finally brought up in the very centre of the fairway. There her crew prepared to send her to the bottom, and if the operation could have been carried out successfully there can be little doubt that the whole enterprise would have gained its object, and that the channel would, at least temporarily, have been completely blocked. But the Russian torpedo-boats were active. One of their deadly engines of destruction struck the _Yoneyama Maru_ just as the crew were about to cast anchor, and she drifted somewhat to the westward before she sank, her bow pointing towards the Tiger's Tail. Her crew escaped safely, but this accident left too wide a space between the _Yoneyama Maru_ and the _Yahiko Maru_ to effect a total obstruction of the channel. [Sidenote: Covering Themselves With Glory] All this time the torpedo-boat and destroyer flotilla had been far from idle. The destroyers consisted of the _Shirakumo_, _Kasumi_, _Asashio_, _Akatsuki_, _Akebono_, _Oboro_, _Inayuma_, _Ikadsuchi_, _Usugomo_, _Sayanami_, and _Shinonome_, while the torpedo-boats were the following: the _Karigane_, _Aotaka_, _Misasagi_, _Tsubame_, _Managuru_, and _Hato_. Several of these, it will be remembered, had already covered themselves with glory in previous combats. On this occasion they fully maintained their high reputation. The hot cannonade which was directed from the fortress upon the fireships so far from deterring the escorting vessels acted rather as an attraction to them, for while one division of the flotilla stood by the doomed steamers in order to pick up their crews, the other approached well within range of the garrison artillery in order to divert its fire from the main operation which was proceeding in the channel. Here it was that the _Silni_, under Lieutenant Krinizki, came into contact with the Japanese torpedo-boats. Without a moment's hesitation that gallant commander engaged the whole six at once. The unequal combat could not be long maintained, but it was fierce while it lasted. Lieutenant Krinizki himself was wounded, Engineer Artificer Swyereff and six seamen were killed and twelve other men were wounded. But still, the remainder fought gallantry on till a shell burst one of the little vessel's steam pipes and destroyed her steering-gear. Her power to continue in action was gone, and she was beached upon the shore below Golden Hill. The work of the Japanese expeditions was now done. The survivors of the fireships were by this time all picked up and the several vessels of the flotilla were concentrated and retired out to sea. [Sidenote: Casualties Few But Terrible] In this remarkable operation the Japanese lost in all four killed and nine wounded. Of these latter Lieutenant Hatsuzo sustained very severe injuries; the wounds of the others, including Lieutenant Masaki and Engineer Awada, being of a slighter character. In the circumstances it was surprising that the casualties were so few, and one more illustration was given of the comparative impunity with which torpedo attacks can be made in harbor under cover of night. The smallness, however, of the Japanese losses in this species of fighting in the present war, must, of course, be largely attributable to bad shooting on the part of the Russian gunners, and it would be unwise to draw too general a lesson from it. [Illustration: DESOLATION IN MANCHURIA.] [Sidenote: The Hero of Japan] The most severe loss sustained by the Japanese was that of the gallant Commander Hirose, whose death, while it inflamed his comrades with pride, caused universal mourning. He had only recently been promoted for the skill and courage which he had displayed in the previous attempt to block the harbor. He was then in command of the _Hokoku Maru_, and regardless of the appalling fire directed upon her, he managed to rush his ship further than any of her companions up the channel before he blew her up and sent her to the bottom. An act of particularly cool, almost reckless, daring on his part on that occasion was now fondly recalled by his men. The ship was sinking, she was the target of all the Russian batteries, and the crew had taken refuge in the boats; but Commander Hirose had forgotten something. It was nothing less important than his sword, which he had left on the bridge. So, in spite of the imminent peril of the situation, he coolly went back to recover it, buckled it on, and escaped into the boat just in time, for the ship went down a moment afterwards. Commander Hirose was well known in naval circles in England, for he was a visitor to those shores a few years before on business for the Japanese Admiralty, and had made many friends. His remains were conveyed to Japan and accorded a public funeral, and the Mikado only expressed the feelings of the whole nation when he posthumously conferred upon the fallen hero the Order of the Kite and the Order of the Rising Sun. [Sidenote: Channel Still Unclosed] The exact amount of obstruction caused in the channel by the sinking of the fireships could not be ascertained. It is, however, apparent from subsequent events that whatever inconvenience to navigation, temporary or permanent, may have resulted, it was not sufficient to prevent the passage of Admiral Makaroff's ships. At daybreak on the very morning of the attack he led his whole fleet out and lined it up in the roadstead in readiness to meet the Japanese fleet, which was in sight ten miles out at sea. Seeing, however, that his enemy had no intention of coming outside the range of the forts, Admiral Togo was not to be tempted nearer, and retired with the whole of his force to the southward. For several days he did not give any outward signs of activity, and his ships were not sighted off Port Arthur, a fact which gave rise to the impression that he was engaged in covering the transport of fresh Japanese troops to the west coast of Korea. On the other hand, the vigilance of Admiral Makaroff showed no indication of abating. On the 6th of April the steamer _Haimun_, specially chartered for the service of the London _Times_, was overhauled by the cruiser _Bayan_ an at a distance of thirty-five miles to the southeast of Port Arthur. A shot fired across the _Haimun's_ bows brought her to, and two lieutenants put off with a boat's crew and boarded her. The greatest politeness was shown, and after an examination of the _Haimun's_ papers she was allowed to proceed. The _Times'_ correspondent was able to observe that the _Bayan_, which was flying the flag of the Admiral himself, showed signs of injuries received in the recent fighting. Marks produced by splinters of shell were visible all over her, and a large hole had been rent in one of her smoke-stacks. This fact seems to bear out the story published in the _Port Arthur Journal_ of the destruction wrought upon the _Bayan_ by the high-angle fire of the Japanese in the bombardment of the 10th of March. The correspondent added that the officers and men who boarded his steamer "were a little fine drawn, but nevertheless looked good material." Some indication can be gathered from this statement of the strain which Admiral Togo's repeated attacks had involved upon his opponents. The constant anxiety had necessarily begun to tell upon the defending force, and many more than the officers and crew of the _Bayan_ must have acquired that gaunt, tense appearance that comes from a sense of ever-impending danger heightened by a past experience of tragedy and disaster. No better illustration, indeed, of the watchfulness entailed on the Russians by the perpetual menace of their foe could be given than the case of Admiral Makaroff himself, who sent the following telegram to the President of the War Relief Society at Kronstadt on March 29th:-- "Last night was a very hot one, but we cannot hope for a very quiet time now or in the near future. I sleep without undressing in order that I maybe ready for any emergency. Consequently, I cannot observe your medical advice to take care of myself; nevertheless, I feel splendid." [Sidenote: The Shadows of Fate] These words were destined soon to receive a fulfilment more heart-shaking than any that can have presented itself as possible to the mind either of the writer of the letter or of its recipient. For even then stern Fate was standing ready with the abhorred shears; the shadows were gathering round the head of the devoted Makaroff; and his weary watch, pursued so bravely, so unflinchingly, and, alas for him and his country, so unavailingly, was moving swiftly towards its tragic close. [Sidenote: The Great Catastrophe] For on April 13th the telegraph wires flashed all over the world the news of a blow to Russia's might in the Far East, more appallingly dramatic in its suddenness and more fatal in its consequences than any that had yet befallen her in the preceding two months of bungling and misfortune. The stunning intelligence was conveyed to the Czar in the following telegram from Rear-Admiral Grigorovitch, Naval Commandant at Port Arthur:-- "The battleship _Petropavlovsk_ struck a mine, which exploded and the vessel capsized. "Our squadron is lying under Golden Hill and the Japanese squadron is approaching. "Admiral Makaroff apparently perished with the _Petropavlovsk_. "The Grand Duke Cyril, who was saved, was slightly wounded. "I beg humbly to report to your Majesty that those saved from the _Petropavlovsk_ up to the present are Grand Duke Cyril, six officers, 32 sailors, all wounded. The bodies of four officers, a surgeon, and 12 sailors have been found. "The Japanese fleet has disappeared. Details will be supplied by Rear-Admiral Prince Ukhtomsky, who has assumed provisional command of the fleet." Swiftly upon the track of this first message there followed the brief account of a further disaster, which placed another of Russia's finest battleships _hors de combat_. Prince Ukhtomsky telegraphed that "during some manoeuvring of the battleship squadron, the _Pobieda_ was struck by a mine amidships on the starboard side. She was able to gain the port by herself and none on board were killed or wounded." [Illustration: BLOWING UP OF THE PETROPAVLOVSK.] [Sidenote: The Story of the "Petropavlovsk"] The news of this fearful _debacle_ created a paralyzing effect in official circles at St. Petersburg, and spread consternation among Russia's sympathizers throughout Europe. The first brief reports left room for speculation as to the cause of the disaster, and an accident was conjectured such as that which had destroyed the _Yenesei_; but the later accounts and the dispatches of Admiral Togo to his Government speedily put the real facts beyond doubt. It then became known to the world that Admiral Makaroff had fallen a victim to the deeply-laid plans of his brilliant adversary, and, moreover, that the whole Russian fleet had only narrowly escaped capture or complete destruction. The story of the operations which practically gave the _coup de grace_ to the Czar's maritime power in the Far East is a remarkable one. It shows what a revolutionary effect the discoveries of modern science have had upon naval warfare, and it proves, too, how completely the lessons of that science have been assimilated by the Japanese. On the 11th of April Admiral Makaroff, still pursuing his policy of activity, took the whole of his effective squadron out to sea, for a distance of six miles to the south of Port Arthur and exercised it in manoeuvres. No sign of the enemy was perceived, and the fleet returned to the harbor in safety. [Sidenote: A Double Trap] But Admiral Togo was not far away. Despairing of ordinary means of tempting Admiral Makaroff into the open to meet his more powerful fleet, he was preparing a double trap in which to catch his wary foe. He hoped, by the display of a markedly inferior force, to entice him beyond the range of the forts and then rush in with his battleships and capture or destroy the whole of the Russian fleet. But in the event of failure in this manoeuvre, he had ready another scheme. The course taken by the Russian ships on leaving and returning to the harbor on the occasion of the frequent excursions which they had made of late had been carefully noted by the Japanese officers, and Togo had determined to mine the passage extensively, so that even if the enemy eluded a decisive battle at sea, he still hoped to do damage to their ships by driving them in the hurry and confusion of a headlong flight upon the hidden perils of his mine field. As it turned out, this part of his plan succeeded, and the result was probably even more startlingly effective than he expected; but it was only by a mere chance, as already mentioned, that the other and grander portion of his scheme failed of realization. If he had managed to interpose his powerful fleet between the Russian Squadron and Port Arthur, there can be little doubt that, although he himself would probably have sustained some severe losses, the Czar's naval force in the Pacific, already weakened by its former disasters, would have been practically eliminated. As it was, indeed, the success he attained was sufficiently striking. By it he secured the decisive supremacy of the sea in the Gulf of Pechili, and rendered possible at last the important movements on land which the strategists at Tokio were waiting to initiate. [Sidenote: Captain Oda and His Mines] The arrangements of the Japanese were carried out with their usual thoroughness. At midnight on the 12th of April, the fourth and fifth destroyer flotillas and the fourteenth torpedo flotilla reached Port Arthur roadstead, having with them under escort the mining ship, the _Koryo Maru_. The _Koryo Maru_ was a new vessel of 2,700 tons burden, specially constructed for torpedo and mining work. Captain Oda, the officer in command, was one of the ablest experts in this branch of warfare in the Japanese navy, and he had only recently been decorated for his distinguished services. He had invented a new type of mine of a particularly deadly description, and it was now to be tried for the first time in actual warlike operations. The work of laying the mines was entered upon without delay, and with all the customary daring and resource exhibited by the Mikado's sailors in this dangerous class of service. Notwithstanding the relentless glare of the searchlights, which threw the vessel into strong relief and made her the target for two hundred guns, Captain Oda and his men calmly went about their work unheeding. The torpedo-boats and destroyers in the meantime took up a position on the flanks of the _Koryo_ and endeavored to attract the fire of the fortress to themselves, while their escort was doing her deadly work unsuspected. The enterprise was aided by a renewal of the extraordinary feebleness and lack of skill which had so often been characteristic of the Russian defense in the past. Not only were the garrison gunners unable to hit the mark so plainly presented to them, but the torpedo flotilla, which, despite its recent losses, still constituted a formidable force, did nothing to interfere with operations which threatened so vitally the safety of the fleet. Even Admiral Makaroff seems to have been at fault on this occasion. It is almost inconceivable that the true nature of the _Koryo's_ proceedings was not guessed by him, and that the most active measures were not taken to put a stop to them. Whatever may have been the reason, however, nothing effective was done, and Captain Oda was able to complete his work unharmed in spite of the shells which were churning up the water all round him. It must be remembered, nevertheless, that the immunity which the _Koryo_ actually enjoyed is no measure of the risk that she ran. No more heroic and devoted act illumines the long history of naval warfare than the laying of these mines close to the harbor, and under the full fire of the enemy's guns, any one of whose missiles, by exploding the dangerous cargo, might have sent the ship to destruction in a moment. But, as it turned out, the _Koryo_ was saved by the bad gunnery of the Russians, and having performed his duty well and thoroughly, Captain Oda withdrew to the open sea. [Sidenote: "Bayan" to the Rescue] In the meanwhile, the torpedo-boats and destroyers, besides distracting the attention of the defending force from the work of the mine transport, were engaged in more active operations on their own account. At dawn the second division fell in with one of the enemy's destroyers, the _Strashni_, which was creeping stealthily towards the harbor mouth from the direction of Dalny. The Japanese were on her track in a moment, and, cutting off her retreat, bombarded her with their 6-pounders, until in a few minutes she became a total wreck and sank. An attempt was made to save her crew, but the work of rescue was interrupted by the appearance on the scene of the Russian cruiser _Bayan_. Admiral Togo's destroyers sheered off upon the approach of this formidable adversary, and left to her the task of picking up the drowning men, but the _Bayan_ was too late to be of much service, and only five men could be recovered. At about the same time as this incident, a second Russian destroyer was encountered by the Japanese coming from the direction of Liau-tie-shan. A strong effort was made to capture her, but she was more fortunate than the _Strashni_, and managed to escape to Port Arthur in safety. [Sidenote: Preparing an Ambush] But now began the larger and more important operations which were destined to end so disastrously for Admiral Marakoff and his fleet. Admiral Togo had ordered a weak squadron, consisting of the first-class cruisers _Tokiwa_ and _Asama_ and four second-class cruisers, to act as a support to the destroyers, if attacked, and at the same time to serve as a lure to the Russians, and tempt them away from the protection of Port Arthur. He, himself, with his main fleet, lay in hiding thirty miles away to the southeast, waiting for an opportunity to dash in and cut off Makaroff's retreat. The day was not unsuitable for such an enterprise. Rain was falling, and a mist hung heavy over the sea, disguising the smoke of his great warships. [Illustration: ARRIVAL OF A DISPATCH FOR GENERAL KUROPATKIN.] [Sidenote: Makaroff Lured Out] By eight o'clock on the morning of the 13th, the Japanese cruiser squadron appeared on the offing and engaged in a long-range fire with the _Bayan_, which had not returned to the harbor. Admiral Makaroff, seeing the smallness of the force opposed to him, gave the order to his fleet to steam out in column formation and attack the venturesome enemy. Hoisting his flag on the _Petropavlovsk_, the Russian Commander-in-Chief led the way himself, followed by the battleships _Poltava_ and _Pobieda_, the cruisers _Diana_, _Askold_, and _Novik_, and the destroyer flotilla. In the roadstead the fleet was joined by the _Bayan_, and the whole force then set forth majestically to engage the Japanese. [Sidenote: Cutting Off the Unwary] But the orders of Admiral Togo were well observed by Admiral Dewa, commander of the cruiser squadron. Gradually the Japanese began to retire before the superior force opposed to them, drawing Makaroff onwards, further and further out to sea. The Russian fleet began a hot fire at long range, to which the Japanese ships replied at intervals, just sufficiently to keep their opponents occupied and to lure them on to greater efforts by the display of a manifest disparity of strength. By this skillful manoeuvring they succeeded in enticing Makaroff out a distance of fifteen miles to the southeast of Port Arthur. Now was the time to communicate with Admiral Togo. Wireless telegraphy flashed the news of the success of the ruse to the Commander-in-Chief. His great battleships were waiting with steam up and cleared for action. Directly he received the message from the retreating squadron he signalled to the new cruisers, the _Nisshin_ and _Kasuga_, to join him, and then advanced at full speed with eight powerful vessels to cut off the unwary Russians. [Sidenote: Weather Permitting] The plan had been well laid and it seemed on the brink of success, but that incalculable factor, the weather, intervened and brought Togo's calculations to naught. The wind suddenly freshened, and, blowing away the mist under cover of which the Japanese men-of-war were approaching, disclosed the smoke of their funnels to Admiral Makaroff. In a flash he saw the trap into which he had nearly led his fleet, and gave orders to retreat to Port Arthur with all haste. Back, therefore, the Russians scurried with the Japanese in full cry at their heels. Steam as they might Togo's ships were too late to catch their enemy, and great must have been the disappointment of the gallant Admiral and his men when they saw the prey slip from their grasp. But the curtain had not yet fallen upon the drama. Makaroff's ships had emerged from Port Arthur and passed over the mine field in safety; by a singular stroke of luck they had eluded the Japanese battle fleet, but they had still a third danger to encounter--they had once more to pass over the deadly engines of war which Captain Oda had placed in their path. And here it was that the blow fell. [Sidenote: Into the Jaws of Death] By about half-past nine the fleet, with the _Petropavlovsk_ at its head regained the roadstead and the protection of the fortress guns. Signalling to the torpedo flotilla to enter the harbor, Admiral Makaroff turned his own vessel towards the east and ordered the cruisers to follow him. The battleship _Pobieda_ was to the stern of the _Petropavlovsk_, on the starboard quarter. Close behind her again came the _Poltava_. The Commander-in-Chief was on the bridge of his ship with the Grand Duke Cyril, son of the Grand Duke Vladmir, and cousin of the Czar; Captain Yakovleff, and some other officers. Suddenly the horrified spectators on shore saw a great white column of foam rise on the right side of the _Petropavlovsk_. A dull report was heard, followed by another and more terrific explosion under the bridge. A huge thick cloud of greenish yellow smoke rose around the doomed vessel, a topmast, a funnel, a turret and the bridge were hurled into the air, and the huge monster heeled over on her starboard side. Her poop rose up, showing the propeller working in the air. Fire burst out in every part, and in a moment the ship was a mass of flame. A few seconds more and the whole fearful spectacle was torn from the eyes of the paralyzed onlookers, for with a tremendous lurch the vessel turned further on her side, the waters rushed in upon her in torrents, and with a roar and a hiss the mighty mass plunged beneath the foaming surface of the sea. The _Petropavlovsk_ had gone to her death carrying with her the gallant Admiral himself, his staff, and full six hundred officers and men. [Sidenote: Haphazard Fire] This terrible catastrophe threw the whole squadron into the utmost confusion. The other ships began a rapid haphazard fire in all directions to destroy the mines which they knew lurked in every direction, but their shots were purposeless; there was no mark at which to aim, and no effect was produced. And then, to carry further dismay to the already nerve-shaken fleet, a mine exploded on the starboard side of the _Pobieda_. She listed at once, but her fate was happier than that of the _Petropavlovsk_. No second explosion followed; the watertight bulkheads were shut to, and sorely wounded though she was she managed to keep afloat and to crawl into the harbor with the cruisers crowding behind her. [Sidenote: Rescue Work] The _Poltava_ in the meanwhile had remained upon the scene of the disaster, and her boats put out to save any of the crew of the flagship who could be found. In this work they were aided by the torpedo gunboat _Gaidamak_, and their combined efforts succeeded in rescuing the Grand Duke Cyril, seven officers, and seventy-three seamen. These were the only survivors. [Sidenote: The Character of the Explosion] The difference in the effect of the mine explosions upon the _Petropavlovsk_ and the _Pobieda_ was due to causes which could not have been foreseen. The terrible character of the disaster which befell the flagship was due to the fact that the mine exploded underneath her boilers, and that when these burst the explosion of the ammunition magazine, which was in the same part of the ship, immediately followed. The whole affair was over in less than a minute and a half. On the other hand, the explosion at the side of the _Pobieda_ did not touch the boilers, and seriously--indeed for the purposes of immediate warfare, irremediable--damaged as she was, the same appalling results did not follow in her case as in the other. [Sidenote: Accounts by Survivors] The accounts of the survivors of the _Petropavlovsk_ all confirm this view. But so swift indeed was the tragedy that there was not much time or opportunity for the formation of correct conclusions upon this or upon any point. The narratives of the men who were picked up were of the kind usually met with on the occasion of a sudden catastrophe. They were mainly confined to their own personal experiences and miraculous escape. Upon the memories of some, however, certain outstanding incidents were sharply and indelibly photographed. One of the last things which a signalman saw upon the bridge before he was hurled off was the figure of an officer lying weltering in his blood. It was Admiral Makaroff himself. Captain Yakovleff, the commander of the vessel, was hurled against a stanchion with such force that he was thought to be killed, but he was afterwards picked up alive. The Grand Duke Cyril had an escape just as marvelous. He, too, was knocked on the head, but he was not rendered unconscious, and when he was thrown into the sea he fell clear of the sinking vessel. He was an excellent swimmer, and in spite of the shock and injury he had sustained, he managed to keep afloat until he was picked up. Rear-Admiral Molas, Makaroff's chief of staff, was in his cabin when the explosion occurred, and was drowned. His body was one of the few that were afterwards washed ashore. Another picture which some of the survivors retained in their mind was that of "an old man with a beautiful white beard," who was standing on the deck just before the disaster with a book in his hand sketching. This was the famous war artist, Verestchagin. Only that morning his friend Makaroff had invited him to share the hospitality of the flagship and so gain further material for his realistic pictures of the horrors of war! [Sidenote: Tribute from the Japanese] The full magnitude of the success which his plans had gained was not revealed to the Japanese Admiral till the Russian dispatches made it public to the world. He saw a vessel, as he phrased it, "of the _Petropavlovsk_ type" strike a mine and sink, and he thought also that another ship--he was referring to the _Pobieda_--lost freedom of movement; but he did not know that with the _Petropavlovsk_ perished the brain of the Russian defence, a brain which, if it had been employed from the first by its master, the Czar, might have given a totally different character to the war. The death of Makaroff in itself brought no rejoicing to the Japanese in their hour of victory, but only that feeling of almost personal sorrow which brave and chivalrous men feel for the death of a gallant foe. No finer or more generous tributes indeed could have been paid even in the western world than were paid to the memory of the brave but unfortunate Makaroff by the members of this so-called yellow race. [Sidenote: On Land] On the 14th Admiral Togo once more brought his fleet before Port Arthur, and by means of an indirect bombardment, silenced the new forts on Liau-tie-shan. He then retired again to prepare for a further attempt to cork up the harbor, which should finally reduce the Russian fleet to a state of ineffectiveness, and leave the sea clear for the transport of the great army which was to be launched against the Liao-tung Peninsula and southern Manchuria. Already General Kuroki, with the First Army, was encamped on the south bank of the Yalu River prepared for an advance upon the Russian position at Khiu-lien-cheng. [Sidenote: Chong-Ju] But before dealing with the momentous events which now occurred in rapid succession, both on land and sea, it will be necessary to return for a few moments to the earlier fortunes of the First Army, whose advance through Korea as far as Ping-Yang was described in Chapter III. It will be remembered that a small skirmish took place between Russian and Japanese patrols to the north of that town on February 28th. A month elapsed before the opposing forces came seriously into touch with one another again. During that period General Kuroki slowly but steadily continued his advance in the face of terrible difficulties arising from the weather and the state of the roads. The mud on these north Korean highways in the spring makes them almost impassable, but the Japanese had thought of everything, and brought large supplies of wood with which they practically relaid the road, and made it admit even of the passage of heavy artillery. The Cossack patrols retired before this persistent advance, and no real attempt to dispute it was made till the vanguard of the Japanese neared Chong-ju, a little town about thirty miles north of Anju and fifty south of Wiju. Here, on March 28th, they found six squadrons of Cossacks belonging to General Mishtchenko's Brigade, posted on an adjacent hill, prepared to dispute the forward movement. A brisk engagement ensued. The small force of Japanese which first appeared upon the scene, according to the testimony of General Mishtchenko himself, gallantly held their ground in spite of the commanding position occupied by the Russians and the raking cross fire which they maintained, and it was only after half an hour of fierce fighting that they gave way and fell back upon their supports which were hastening to the front. Reinforcements now rapidly arrived, and the Russians, finding their position untenable, retired along the road to the north, yielding up possession of the town to the Japanese. In this smart little affair the Russians, according to their account, lost three killed and twelve wounded, the Japanese casualties amounting to five killed, including one officer, and twelve wounded, including two officers. [Sidenote: The Advance to the North] After the capture of Chong-ju General Kuroki moved forward rapidly, finding no resistance. On April 2nd he occupied Syoush-kou, a place eighteen miles west of Chong-ju, and forty miles south of Wiju, and two days afterwards his scouts entered Wiju itself, an important town on the south bank of the Yalu. The Russians did not find themselves strong enough to oppose the Japanese advance in Korea, and determined instead to resist it on the north bank of the Yalu. General Kuroki therefore occupied Wiju without firing a shot, and set to work busily to consolidate his forces for the great enterprise of crossing the Yalu. [Sidenote: Concentration of Troops] The month of April was occupied by General Kuroki in the steady concentration of his troops and in the collection of war material. Pontoons were conveyed to the front in readiness for the operation of forcing the river; heavy guns were transported over the Korean roads with, in the circumstances, really marvelous rapidity; and masses of cavalry and infantry arrived at Wiju every day. By the end of the month the First Japanese Army had been brought up to its full strength, amounting probably to between 60,000 and 70,000 men of all arms. It was divided into three divisions, the 12th, the 2nd and the Guards. The 12th Division, it will be remembered, was the first section of the army to put foot on Korean soil, being landed at Chemulpo during the first days of the war, after the destruction of the _Varyag_ had left that part of the coast clear for the Japanese disembarkation. It may be well to record its composition exactly, as it is typical of all the Japanese divisions. It was made up as follows:--Infantry, 12,000 (four regiments of three battalions each); cavalry, 500 (one regiment); artillery, 900 (one regiment, 36 guns, two field batteries, two mountain batteries); engineers, 700; transport corps, 600; hospital corps, 700; ammunition column, 500; post office corps, veterinary corps, pontoon corps and balloon corps, 1,000; total, 16,900. Attached to these combatant troops were a force of 5,500 coolies for transport purposes, bringing the grand total of the division, combatant and non-combatant, up to 22,400. The whole was under the command of Lieutenant-General Inouye, whose chief subordinates were Major-Generals Kigoshi and Otani. [Illustration: RUSSIAN CONCENTRATION ON THE YALU.] [Sidenote: Kuroki's Line of Front] As his army arrived at the front, General Kuroki began gradually to occupy a wider front on the south bank of the Yalu, his left wing operating at the mouth of the river in conjunction with a naval force under the command of Admiral Hosoya, and his right extending to a distance of twenty or twenty-five miles up the river, past Sukuchin. [Sidenote: The Russian Position] While the Japanese were thus concentrating on the left bank of the Yalu the Russians were gradually strengthening their positions on the right bank, the centre and key of which was formed by the village of Kiu-lien-cheng. During all these weeks the greatest secrecy was observed on both sides in regard to their numbers and dispositions--as far, at least, as the outside world was concerned. It seems probable from after events that the Russians themselves were largely ignorant of the strength of the force which General Kuroki had at his disposal; but, on the other hand, that able commander appears to have been thoroughly well informed in every detail as to the position occupied by his enemy. There was the greatest diversity of statement on the Russian side after the battle of the Yalu upon the question of the real intentions of General Kuropatkin in holding as he did the right bank of the river. When the disastrous result of the conflict of May 1st became known in Europe the friends of the Commander-in-Chief in the press declared that it was due to the failure of the officer in immediate command, General Sassulitch, to follow his instructions, which were to offer only a strategical resistance to the enemy and to withdraw slowly before the advance of a superior force upon Feng-haung-cheng, a position about thirty miles distant upon the Liau-yang road. If this explanation is correct, the activity shown by the Russians for weeks in constructing earthworks on the heights around Kiu-lien-cheng is rendered very remarkable, and equally difficult to understand is the size and importance of the force to which was apportioned the task of thus keeping in touch with the advancing Japanese army and conducting a mere strategic defeat. For General Sassulitch was commander of the 2nd Siberian Army Corps, and though the actual body of troops engaged in the fighting-line in resisting the passage of the Yalu by the Japanese did not amount to that strength, there is no doubt that General Sassulitch had under him in the near neighborhood a force of not less than 30,000 men. All the evidence, in fact, points to the conclusion that the Russian Generals, including the Commander-in-Chief himself, wholly underestimated the fighting power of the Japanese and the skill with which they would be led when the opposing armies came to close quarters. [Sidenote: Russian Confidence] The kind of talk which responsible military men in St. Petersburg indulged in before the battle of the Yalu all goes to strengthen this impression. On April 25th, the day before General Kuroki began that series of movements which were to culminate in his crossing the Yalu and driving the Russians before him in headlong rout, there appeared in the _Echo de Paris_ the report of an interview which its St. Petersburg correspondent had had with Colonel Vannovsky, of the Russian General Staff, and formerly military attache in Japan. The utterances of this sapient officer are amusing reading in view of what happened so shortly afterwards. He thought it would still be some time before serious military operations could begin on the Yalu, for the Japanese, in his opinion, were far from having completed their concentration in Korea. They probably, he said, had three divisions of from 12,000 to 15,000 men between Ping-Yang and the Yalu; and, including the Second Army then disembarking, they had not more than 85,000 men near the front. Then followed a valuable criticism of General Kuroki and his colleague, General Oku, the commander of the Second Army. Both, he reminded the interviewer, served in the Chino-Japanese War; but "he looked for nothing extraordinary from them, both were more than sixty years of age." On the whole, he thought that the Japanese would establish themselves in Korea; if they crossed the Yalu it would be only to satisfy public opinion at Tokio. Colonel Vannovsky soon had reason to be sorry that he had spoken so disdainfully of General Kuroki, and with such sublime assurance of the Japanese plans. If the crossing of the Yalu was mainly dictated by a desire to satisfy public opinion at Tokio, it must be said that public opinion at Tokio had its wishes very amply gratified before many days had expired. It is a remarkable fact that in the history of nearly every war the greatest disasters follow the greatest self-confidence. And yet it can easily be understood how the armies that had proved successful against those famous fighters the Turks in the war of the seventies should despise the little dwarfish Japanese, who had hitherto only faced the undisciplined hordes of China. CHAPTER VI. Kuroki Completes his Plans--The Scene of Battle--General Sassulitch's Defences--The Russian Dispositions--The Attacking Army--Clearing the Islands--Guards Half-way Across--Parallel Movements--The Searching Japanese Fire--Bridging the Yalu--Confusion in the Russian Councils--Kuroki's Consummate Strategy--Futile Russian Opposition--Masked Batteries at Work--Serpentine Line of Dark Forms--Two Thousand Deadly Thunderbolts--Inferno Let Loose--Howitzer High-Angle Fire--Co-operation of Gunboats--Miserable Array of Russians--Four Miles of Japanese--A Moment of Tense Expectancy--The General Attack Begins--Ridges Alive with Flame--Surprise of the Russians--The Plunge Across the Ai--Overwhelming Legions--The Circling Ring of Fate--Devastating Artillery Bombardment--Black Mass of Human Figures--The Blood-Red Banner--Fight Desperately Against Fate--General Sassulitch's Retreat--The Japanese Chase--The Last Gallant Stand--Rifle Fire and Cold Steel. [Sidenote: Kuroki Completes his Plans] The numerous small skirmishes between outposts which took place on the Yalu and its tributaries during the earlier part of the month of April need not detain us. They were mainly encounters between small reconnoitering parties, and though there were losses on both sides, fortune on the whole leaned in favor of the Japanese. The results of these reconnaissances in locating the positions occupied by the Russians, combined with the success of the Japanese transport arrangements, which, as stated already, placed an army of 60,000 to 70,000 men at General Kuroki's disposal, enabled him to complete his preparations for the great task before him by the beginning of the last week in April. The night of the 25th found him ready at all points, and on the morrow his army entered upon the preliminary stages of a series of operations which, culminating in the crossing of the river and the capture of the Russian position, first revealed to an astonished world the hitherto undreamt-of potentialities of Japan as a military power. [Sidenote: The Scene of Battle] Some study of the map of the scene of battle is necessary for a perfect understanding of the movements of the contending forces. It will be seen on reference to our map (page 169) that just above Wiju the waters of the Yalu are joined from the northwest by an important tributary, the Ai River, the stream here taking the form of a fork. At the apex of the triangular wedge of land which divides the Ai from the Yalu is situated the Hosan, or Tiger Hill, an important strategical position commanding the south bank of the main river. Opposite Tiger Hill, and running some way past it up the Yalu, is the Island of Kulido, which divides the river at this point into two streams, both of them fordable. The Ai also is fordable at a point near the hill of Yulchasan, which is north of Tiger Hill and on the same bank of the tributary. Opposite Wiju itself the main river is two miles wide and is divided into three streams by two islands. Of these the larger Cheun-song-do, is near the right bank, and lies stretched alongside it for a distance of about thirteen miles, starting from a spot close to Antung, lower down the river, and finishing at a little distance up the Ai. It can be reached from the right bank at this end by a ford, and there is another ford lower down, opposite to Chiu-lien-cheng. The stream dividing the other island from the left bank is also fordable waist-deep, but the central stream can only be crossed by means of a bridge. These islands are really low, flat, sandy deltas, with occasional clumps of small trees and patches of shrub dotting their surface, which provide some cover for the concealment of troops. [Illustration: MAP SHOWING THE ACTIONS ON THE YALU APRIL 29TH-MAY 1ST.] [Sidenote: General Sassulitch's Defences] The Russian position extended for a distance of upwards of twenty miles along the right bank of the Yalu and Ai, from Niang-ning-chin in the south, to Yushukau in the north. Yushukau is a hill opposite to Yulchasan, and lower down is another hill which General Sassulitch had fortified, named Makau (or Potientzy). Then comes the village of Chiu-lien-cheng itself, which formed the centre of his position, standing at a height of about 180 feet above the river. From Chiu-lien-cheng a road runs in a westerly direction to Hamatan or Hoh-mu-tang, a distance of about five or six miles; and another road runs down parallel with the bank of the Yalu to Antung. A further road runs from Hoh-mu-tang in a northerly direction, the most important post on which is Tang-lang-fang, almost due west of Yushukau. Westward of Hoh-mu-tang stretches the main road to Feng-whang-cheng and Liao-yang. South of Antung is the hill of Antushan, and a continual ridge of hills connects this eminence with Niang-ning-chin, already mentioned. It will be observed that the high ground which the Russians occupied gives a defending force a great advantage in meeting an attack from the Yalu, as it easily commands the low-lying positions on the left bank. On the other hand, Makau, Shiu-lien-cheng, and the positions to the southward are commanded by Tiger Hill and Yulchasan, and it is therefore obvious that if once the Japanese succeeded in occupying those heights they must necessarily render the rest of General Sassulitch's defences along the river bank untenable. [Illustration: HAULING A JAPANESE HOWITZER INTO POSITION UNDER FIRE.] [Sidenote: The Russian Dispositions] As far as can be gathered from the Japanese accounts and from the more obscure dispatches of the Russian Generals, the distribution of the Czar's forces at the beginning of the operations was as follows: Tiger Hill was occupied by part of the 22nd Siberian Regiment under the command of General Kashtalinsky. The right wing, in the neighborhood of Antung, was formed of the 9th and 10th Regiments supported by two batteries of artillery; while the centre, at Chiu-lien-cheng, was held by the 12th Regiment. The Reserve was formed of the 11th Regiment. The artillery were distributed at carefully-chosen positions along the whole front, but were massed in especial strength at Makau and Chiu-lien-cheng. Advanced outposts drawn from the 22nd, 23rd, and 27th Regiments of Eastern Siberian Sharpshooters occupied the islands of Kulido and Cheun-song-do. A Russian regiment, it should be explained, consists of three battalions, each of which, when brought up to its full strength, numbers about 1,000 men. [Sidenote: The Attacking Army] On the night of the 25th the Japanese army was massed on the left bank of the river in the following order: On the left, facing the island of Cheun-song-do, was stationed the 2nd Division; the centre, occupying a position to the north of Wiju, was composed of the Imperial Guards' Division; and on the right, still further up the river, the 12th Division was concentrated, in concealment behind some hilly ground, and in readiness for an important move upon the enemy's left, which will be described later. [Sidenote: Clearing the Islands] At dawn on the 26th a sharp rattle of musketry told the Russians that the attack had begun. Detachments from the Guards' Division were firing upon General Sassulitch's sharpshooters stationed on the Island of Kulido. The Russians replied briskly, but the Japanese rifle fire was heavy and well-directed, and at last their position became untenable, in face not only of this infantry attack, but of a searching bombardment opened by some batteries of Kuroki's artillery, which were established on a hill in the rear of Wiju. They therefore retreated to the mainland for shelter. [Sidenote: Guards Half-way Across] No sooner had this retirement been effected than the Japanese prepared to cross over to the island in boats. These craft were all in readiness, and before long a considerable force of the Guards had landed on the island. When this movement was perceived the enemy returned to dispute it; but they were not in large force, and were easily repulsed. A squadron of Cossacks came to their assistance, but the hot fire with which they were received by the Japanese infantry was too much for them, and they were driven back in confusion to the bank below Tiger Hill. The Mikado's Guards continued the pursuit across the ford, and a smart encounter ensued beneath the hill. The fighting was not of long duration, however; the Russians retired; and it became evident that there was no intention seriously to dispute the possession of the island. The attempt made by General Sassulitch's batteries to drive the daring Japanese off the island by shrapnel fire was quite unsuccessful, and the whole defence on this side revealed an unexpected weakness. The Guards' skirmishers occupied all night the ground they had so easily gained. [Sidenote: Parallel Movements] In the meantime, the advance guard of the 2nd Division had carried through the same operations with equal success on the Island of Cheun-song-do. The Russian sharpshooters were driven off in the direction of Chiu-lien-cheng, and the Japanese seized the delta with a small force preparatory to constructing a bridge over the central stream for the passage of the main body of the division. [Sidenote: The Searching Japanese Fire] In these small but useful engagements the Guards suffered some slight casualties, nine men being slightly and sixteen seriously wounded. The 2nd Division sustained no casualties at all. The Russians, on the other hand, lost more heavily. They were seen to carry off a considerable number of dead and wounded, and they left behind them ninety-five dead horses, which, in itself, is significant of the searching character of the Japanese fire. The body of Lieutenant Senyoloff, commanding the Mounted Scouts of the 22nd Regiment, which his comrades had not time to remove, was buried at Wiju by the Japanese themselves with all honor. [Sidenote: Bridging the Yalu] On the following day the work of bridging the stream both at Kulido and Cheun-song-do was carried out, in spite of the intermittent fire which the Russian guns maintained upon the corps engaged. So ineffective indeed was this cannonade that the Japanese artillery did not even reply to it, and their engineers pursued their enterprise calmly and without substantial interruption. On the same day the naval squadron under Rear-Admiral Hosoya rendered valuable assistance to General Kuroki by its co-operation in the Yalu estuary. Two gunboats, two torpedo-boats, and two armed steamers ascended the river as far as Antushan and effected a useful diversion in the quarter by shelling the Russian entrenchments. The bombardment must have proved destructive, for after making a brisk reply for some time, which, however, did no damage to the Japanese ships, the Muscovite batteries were finally silenced. [Sidenote: Confusion in the Russian Councils] On Thursday, the 28th, the same tactics were displayed, and the position seized by the Guards' Division and the 2nd Division on the Islands of Kulido and Cheun-song-do was consolidated. Two companies of the former, indeed, crossed over to the mainland and reconnoitred Tiger Hill, encouraged by the silence of the enemy on that commanding eminence. To their surprise they found that the post had been evacuated by the Russians. No explanation has been offered of this remarkable step; the only conclusion possible--a conclusion, indeed, strengthened by subsequent events--is that confusion reigned in the councils of the Russian commanders, and that no definite and coherent plan had been thought out by them. For on the next day General Kashtalinsky was again ordered to occupy the hill, which the Japanese themselves, having other plans in view, were not yet in a position to seize effectively. [Sidenote: Kuroki's Consummate Strategy] On Friday, the 29th, General Kuroki began the important move on his extreme right, for which the 12th Division had been all this time kept in reserve. The operations of the Guards and the 2nd Division, useful, and indeed necessary, as they were for the purposes of a general advance, had acted as a screen for his consummate piece of strategy by which the Japanese Commander turned General Sassulitch's flank and finally captured the position. To the north of Wiju, about thirteen miles higher up the stream of the Yalu, stands the small village of Sukuchin. Here it was that the Japanese effected a crossing in October, 1894, in their war with China. On that occasion the movement enabled them to outflank a force of 30,000 men, and it is one of the remarkable features of General Kuroki's dispositions for attack that they repeated in all essential particulars the tactics which proved so successful ten years ago. Still more remarkable is it that the Russians appear to have learned none of the lessons of the war of 1894, and to have fallen just as readily into the trap as did the Chinese. Early then on the 29th the engineer corps of the 12th Division started to construct two pontoon bridges over the Yalu at Sukuchin. Here, as in every other department of the Japanese arrangements, the organization was perfect. Not a detail had been omitted and the work proceeded smoothly and with dispatch. By the next morning both bridges were completed and the troops prepared to cross. [Sidenote: Futile Russian Opposition] The Russian Commander, who had at last got wind of the manoeuvre which was taking place at this point, had detached a small force to oppose the passage of the river, and when at 10.40 the vanguard of General Inouye's Division began to march on to the pontoons, a fierce fire was directed upon it from the opposite bank. The Japanese, however, retorted both with rifle fire and artillery, and the fusillade of the Russians was soon checked, with the result that by the afternoon the whole of the 12th Division had gained the right bank of the Yalu with the loss of only two men killed and twenty-seven men wounded. General Inouye then marched forward to seize Yulchasan and Tiger Hill, which positions, after their first evacuation, had again been occupied by the Russians under General Kashtalinsky. [Sidenote: Masked Batteries at Work] In the meantime, the Guards' Division, assisted by a heavy bombardment from the batteries below Wiju, was pressing an attack upon Tiger Hill from the Island of Kulido, an attack which successfully diverted the attention of General Kashtalinsky from the advance upon his left, and prevented him from offering it any formidable resistance. The Japanese artillery in particular distinguished itself. Never was superiority of generalship more strikingly displayed than it was by General Kuroki in this case. The position was admirably selected by him; the work of placing the batteries was carried out with such skill that the Russians were kept in entire ignorance of their whereabouts; and finally when they opened fire on the morning of the 30th the heavy character of the guns employed took the enemy absolutely by surprise. On the delta immediately below Wiju was a belt of trees of which the Japanese General had at once seen the potentialities; and behind its screen his engineers had constructed gun pits, in which were concealed several batteries of howitzers. These pieces of ordnance did terrible execution in the Russian lines in the course of the day. [Sidenote: Serpentine Line of Dark Forms] To the onlookers standing on the hills behind Wiju the wide field of battle spread before them presented a highly picturesque spectacle, and as the attack developed the interest became intense. Hardly had the advance of the Guards begun upon the Island of Kulido when a long serpentine line of dark forms could be seen winding in and out of the heights on the right bank of the river to the north of Tiger Hill. They were the men of the 12th Division slowly but surely creeping upon the Russian left. For miles they pressed forward without coming into view of the Russian artillerymen on Tiger Hill, but at last the first detachments, rounding the shoulder of one of the nearer hills, were exposed to the enemy. Instantly a terrific burst of shrapnel fire broke out from General Kashtalinsky's field batteries. Steadily, however, and without a check the brave Japanese advanced from height to height, and at the same time the batteries on the left bank above Wiju came to their aid. The fire of the Russians had unmasked the position of their guns on the hill, and the Japanese artillerymen rained upon them a terrible hail of shells which soon reduced them to silence and effectually covered the advance of the infantry. [Sidenote: Two Thousand Deadly Thunderbolts] But now the Guards, who were engaged in effecting a lodgement on the lower slopes of Tiger Hill, came in for the attentions of General Sassulitch's field batteries at Makau and Chiu-lien-cheng. Believing that the Japanese possessed only guns of the same calibre, and totally ignorant of the deadly engines of warfare which Kuroki had so skillfully concealed behind the innocent-looking belt of trees on the delta, the Russian Commander took no pains to mask his ordnance. Therefore when his shrapnel swept the Island of Kulido and played havoc among the Guards, his whole position in this part of the field lay exposed. At once the howitzers on the delta close to the opposite shore began to belch forth a terrible fire of shrapnel and common shell, which tore up the ground all around the Russians, killing their gunners and dismounting their guns. This bombardment was afterwards described by General Kashtalinsky, in a dispatch to the Commander-in-Chief, as "extraordinarily violent and prolonged," and he added that in its course more than 2,000 shells were fired upon the defenders' position. The fearfully destructive and demoralizing effect of this cannonade was indeed patent at once to the observers upon the left bank of the river. The Makau Hill was described by one correspondent as transformed in appearance into an active volcano, from which belched forth clouds of grey-black smoke. [Sidenote: Inferno Set Loose] It was Inferno let loose. The sides of the hill were riddled and scored, solid rocks were smashed like crockery, as the screaming missiles of death burst among the trenches and filled them with dead and wounded. Yet amid it all the Russian artillerymen stood steadily to their guns as long as their guns were left in their places, and as long as any men remained to work them. But the best troop in the world could not endure such a murderous fire for long. The heavy pieces of field ordnance were knocked from their carriages like ninepins, the soldiers fell around them in scores, and at last the batteries sank into silence and the dark forms of the defenders were seen from afar fleeing for refuge behind the further line of the heights. [Sidenote: Howitzer High-Angle Fire] This fierce artillery engagement lasted about half an hour, and while it produced such deadly and demoralizing effects on the enemy it left the Japanese practically unharmed behind their screen of trees. Their howitzers, unlike the Russian field guns, could do the maximum of execution by means of high-angle fire and their battery emplacements were so carefully and skilfully masked that the shrapnel of the enemy, effective as it may have appeared to be from the right bank, did them scarcely any damage. Their casualties, indeed, were only two men killed and twenty-five wounded. It was a remarkable triumph of scientific warfare, and proved that in the artillery branch of the service at all events the Japanese had nothing further to learn from European models. [Illustration: RUSSIANS COLLECTING WOUNDED ON THE NIGHT AFTER THE BATTLE.] [Sidenote: Co-operation of Gunboats] While this bombardment was engaging the Russian centre and diverting its attention from the enveloping movement of the 12th Division on the left, and from the advance of the Guards upon Tiger Hill, the gunboat flotilla of Admiral Hosoya again operated with great effect against the Russian lines lower down the river at Antushan and Niang-ning-chin. This simultaneous attack along the whole of his front placed General Sassulitch in a position of the utmost difficulty. He was unable to tell from which part of the field the real danger would come. It is clear, however, from the dispatches of his subordinate, General Kashtalinsky, that that officer appreciated the true nature of the Japanese operations, and that he recognized the impossibility of holding Chiu-lien-cheng after his flank had been turned by General Inouye's Division. Early on the 30th he ordered the 22nd Regiment back from Tiger Hill to the right bank of the Ai River and endeavored to strengthen the position on Makau and Yukushau, and his dispatch to General Kuropatkin indicates that he represented to General Sassulitch the difficulty with which even that line of defence could be maintained, and urged a retreat to Hoh-mu-tang. At night, however, he received orders from his superior to remain and accept battle at the hands of the Japanese, and he had nothing for it but to obey. [Sidenote: Miserable Array of Russians] It was with a miserably inadequate force that he was thus compelled to oppose the advance of a foe which had already proved itself so determined and so resourceful. At the ford on his extreme left he stationed two battalions of the 22nd Regiment. The 12th Regiment of the East Siberian Rifles held the hills behind, from Yukushan to Makau, supported by the 3rd Battery of the 6th Brigade of Artillery and a number of machine guns. General Sassulitch himself was in command of the 9th and 10th Regiments occupying Chiu-lien-cheng and the chain of hills stretching down to Antung, and the 11th Regiment was kept in the rear as a reserve. General Mishchenko's Brigade of Cossacks, though in the neighborhood, does not appear to have been actually engaged in the battle at all. [Sidenote: Four Miles of Japanese] On the Japanese side all was in readiness for the great advance by the night of the 30th, and General Kuroki telegraphed to the General Staff at Tokio that the attack would begin at dawn. On the left, the 2nd Division, under General Nishi, occupied the southern end of Cheun-song-do; the Imperial Guards, under General Hasegawa, held the northern end of that island, as well as Tiger Hill; and on their right was stationed the 12th Division, facing the Ai, on a wide front extending for over four miles. In these positions the Army bivouacked for the night. [Sidenote: A Moment of Tense Expectancy] By five o'clock on the morning of Sunday, May 1st, the whole force from north to south was on foot, and prepared to move like one mighty machine to the execution of the great task before it. As the grey dawn lifted the curtain upon the tremendous drama which was about to unfold itself before them, the watchers behind Wiju saw the long lines of black forms marshalling upon the islands and taking cover behind the scrub and in the hollows of the low sand hills. Far out beyond Tiger Hill and along the left bank of the River Ai the lines extended, moving out of the shelter of the adjacent hills. It was a moment of tense expectancy. Now for the first time were Japanese Infantry to be pitted against European troops armed with modern weapons, in a conflict on the grand scale. Would they come out of the ordeal with triumph? Would they in their sphere of warfare rival the great achievements of their naval brethren? [Sidenote: The General Attack Begins] But before the infantry could move forward it was necessary to search the Russian batteries once more and reduce them, if possible, to ineffectiveness. The howitzers and field artillery, therefore, again opened their terrible fire of shell and shrapnel upon the heights opposite, the storm raging with especial severity over Chiu-lien-cheng and the Makau and Yushukau ridge. But to this the enemy made no reply. After the awful experience of the previous day, they had been compelled to withdraw many of their guns, and the front of their position was, as it afterwards appeared, deprived of this defence altogether. General Kashtalinsky, as already stated, had with him one battery of field artillery, but taught by past lessons he declined to unmask its whereabouts until the advance of the Mikado's troops made it absolutely necessary. After half an hour, therefore, the Japanese ceased their bombardment for the time being, and at last General Kuroki gave the eagerly-expected order for a general attack along the whole line. Gladly the soldiery of Dai Nippon answered the call, burning as one man to plant the flag of the Rising Sun upon the soil of the territory from which ten years ago they had been so contemptuously driven out by the haughty Muscovite. [Sidenote: Ridges Alive with Flame] To the 12th Division fell the perilous glory of crossing first, in the teeth of the Russian guns. The skirmishing line advanced first over a wide front, keeping up a harassing fire upon the enemy's trenches. A smart response was made, but the opportunity of the Russians was yet to come; for it was apparent that the actual crossing of the river by General Inouye's main body would have to be performed in much closer formation, presenting an admirable target for artillery and rifle fire. Slowly but steadily the skirmishers pressed forward, taking advantage of every scrap of cover, and soon the whole plain was dotted with puffs of white smoke as the bullets sped on their way. Behind them came line after line of the main storming force. At last the fords were reached, and forming into two columns the 12th Division rushed forward to gain their passage. At once the ridges opposite became alive with flame, and a withering blast of shrapnel and rifle bullets swept across their path. The column formation which the Japanese were compelled to adopt gave the Russian marksmen every chance, and terrible loss of life occurred at this point. The leading files were mown down like grass under the sickle; for a moment the head of the column wavered under the storm and stood still. [Sidenote: Surprise of the Russians] But now the Japanese artillery found the opening they wanted. The exact position of the Russian guns was revealed, and at once they were enfiladed by a demoralizing fire from the terrible howitzers near Wiju while at the same time they were attacked by General Inouye's field batteries in front. Once again the fierce and destructive character of the cannonade is revealed by the dispatches of the Russian commanders. Just as General Kashtalinsky, referring to the bombardment of April 30th, described it as "extraordinarily violent and prolonged," so General Sassulitch used similar terms in regard to this new bombardment. Before the day was over the Russian Commander had more opportunities of appreciating the "extraordinary" quality of the troops whose powers he, in common with more highly placed officers in the service of the Czar, had so fatally despised; but it seems clear from the use of the same phrase independently by the two generals that the artillery tactics of General Kuroki caused them more surprise than almost anything else in the whole of these surprising operations. It goes to prove that the Intelligence Department on the Russian side was not well equipped, for the possession by their enterprising foe of heavy guns so far north in Korea seems never to have been suspected by them. [Sidenote: The Plunge Across the Ai] Supported by this tremendous cannonade, the infantry of the 12th Division pressed steadily forward. The survivors of the first line melted into the second line, which was advancing quickly behind, and careless of death, the gallant little Japs plunged into the waters of the Ai up to their breasts, and waded across the ford. Notwithstanding the raking fire, however, from General Kuroki's batteries, the Russians stuck to their posts like heroes, and the field guns of the 3rd Battery, assisted by a number of machine guns, ploughed up the ranks of the Mikado's troops, doing terrible execution. But the Japanese were in overwhelming force, and though men were falling on every hand, the main body pressed resistlessly forward, crossed the river, and took up a position on the right bank, at the base of the hills. Not a moment was wasted. As the column reached the shore, it diverged regiment by regiment to right and left, spreading out in wider formation for the task of scaling the heights. The evolution was executed with great speed, but with the precision and steadiness of parade; and if anything could be more impressive than the gallantry of the Japanese rank and file, it was the skill and coolness of their officers from General down to company commander. Though it was exposed to a withering fire at comparatively close quarters, the movements of the whole force were executed like those of a machine. [Sidenote: Overwhelming Legions] It will be remembered that there are two fords over the Ai river, the one leading from a position near Yulchasan, on the left bank, to a position slightly north of Yukushan, on the right bank; the other opposite to Tiger Hill, and a little to the north of Makau. It was opposite to this latter ford that the bulk of General Kashtalinsky's force was stationed, and here in consequence, the greatest losses befell the Japanese. But while a fierce engagement was raging at Makau, the decisive movement was taking place on the extreme left of the Russians at Yushukau. The defence at that spot was entrusted to only one battalion of the 22nd Regiment of Sharpshooters, and it was impossible for such a small contingent, gallantly as it held its ground for a time, finally to withstand the overwhelming legions which were hurled against it. [Sidenote: The Circling Ring of Fate] For slowly but steadily the Japanese lines encircled the hills with a ring of fate, creeping up the sides with infinite nimbleness and dexterity, pausing now to take cover and return the Russian fire, then up again and climbing from rock to rock with indomitable courage and resolution. On the other hand, General Kashtalinsky bravely fought on against his advancing foe. With the force at his command, it was obviously a desperate undertaking, and he had sent for reinforcements. But they came not, and for hours he had to do the best he could without them. The fact was, of course, that General Sassulitch himself was so busily engaged both on the right wing and at the centre that he could spare little assistance to his subordinate. [Sidenote: Devastating Artillery Bombardment] For almost simultaneously with the advance of the 12th Division across the Ai the Imperial Guards under General Hasegawa had forced the passage of the stream on the left, at the foot of the slope which led up to the village of Chiu-lien-cheng, while the 2nd Division, led by General Nishi, crossed lower down and menaced the Russian right. Four batteries of howitzers had been ferried across the stream from the left bank of the Yalu to the Island of Cheun-song-do, and as the skirmishing line of both divisions moved forward in a fan-like formation these powerful pieces of ordnance opened a destructive fire upon the enemy. A sharp rattle of musketry was the first sign that the Russians were prepared to contest the passage of the river in this quarter, but their field artillery remained silent, and it turned out afterwards that all the guns which had survived the bombardment of the previous day had been removed to the rear, or to strengthen General Kashtalinsky's position. As it was, the rifle fire from the trenches was very galling, and the Japanese lost a great many men, but the devastating effects of General Kuroki's artillery bombardment were beyond anything that the Russians could produce in return. [Sidenote: Black Mass of Human Figures] It was in one of these trenches on the ridge of the hills to the northeast of Chiu-lien-cheng that the greatest damage was wrought. As the Japanese infantry steadily advanced, General Sassulitch ordered forward a body of his supports from the immediate rear to occupy this trench. In order to obey this command they had to round a small spur of the hill and pass across the open. Their appearance against the sky-line provided a target which the Japanese gunners were not likely to neglect. Instantly a rain of shell and shrapnel was directed upon the black mass of human figures. Men were seen falling thick and fast under this withering fire; but still the Russians pressed on indomitably, and at the expense of great loss of life occupied the trench, whence they in turn poured a fierce rifle-fire upon the enemy below them. By this time, however, the Guards were swarming over the lower slopes of the hills around Chiu-lien-cheng, and General Hasegawa sent a strong force to the left of the Russian position to turn General Sassulitch's flank. At the same time General Nishi's men were climbing steadily up the ridge further south, and were threatening the Russian right. [Sidenote: The Blood-Red Banner] It is interesting to note that the somewhat drab aspect of warfare which many of the operations in the South African war assumed, accustoming us to the idea that all picturesqueness had departed from modern combat, and that the ancient gauds and trappings so dear to the soldier's heart had been abandoned for ever, was entirely absent from this great battle in the Far East. The opposing forces were not separated from one another by illimitable distances of rolling veldt and brown hills. They were, on the contrary, so near as to recall the fighting in the Franco-German War, or the bloody combats around Plevna in the great struggle between Turkey and Russia nearly thirty years ago. And more remarkable still, the regimental colors which in our army are kept for ceremonial purposes in times of peace, and do not accompany the troops into the field, were carried by the Japanese in the front of the fighting line. Their presence must have assisted the fire of the enemy considerably; but there can be no doubt, on the other hand, of the inspiriting effect on the Mikado's men of seeing the blood-red banner of their race floating in the van and beckoning them forward to victory. [Illustration: A LAST GALLANT STAND OF RUSSIAN GUNNERS.] Steadily indeed, and without pause, those flaming banners advanced upon the doomed Russian position. The swing round of General Hasewaga's troops to the left of Chiu-lien-cheng decided the fate of General Sassulitch's centre, and after four hours' fighting the Japanese, climbing up the ridges like cats, charged into the Russian trenches. All the defenders who remained to contest the charge were bayonetted or taken prisoners, but the main body of the 9th and 10th Siberian Regiments retreated stubbornly towards Hoh-mu-tang, contesting every inch of the ground. The heights, however, in this part of the field were won, and at 9 o'clock a great shout of "Banzai"--the Japanese form of "hurrah"--went up all along the line, as the banners of the Rising Sun were planted upon the ridge and waved proudly in the breeze. [Sidenote: Fight Desperately Against Fate] On their left the Russians under General Kashtalinsky were, as we have shown, making a more desperate resistance; but unable to obtain reinforcements in time, that gallant officer was compelled to retire before the advance of General Inouye's Division, which, by driving the battalion of the 22nd Regiment in rout before it at Yushukau, had completely crumpled up his flank. He therefore fell back slowly towards Hoh-mu-tang, fighting desperately against overwhelming odds opposed to him. It was not till noon, seven hours after the battle began, that reinforcements were at last sent to him. Then General Sassulitch ordered to his assistance the 11th Regiment, which all this time had been held in reserve well in the rear together with the 2nd Battery of the 6th Brigade of Field Artillery, under Lieutenant-Colonel Mouravsky. [Sidenote: General Sassulitch's Retreat] With this new force General Kashtalinsky set about the heavy task of covering the retreat of the 12th and the 22nd Regiments, or as much of them as was left, and also of checking the Japanese advance if possible until the 9th and 10th Regiments had made sure of their communications along the road to Feng-hwang-cheng. It was now that the fiercest and bloodiest fighting of the day took place, and that the Russians in particular suffered their heaviest losses. For no sooner had General Kuroki captured the whole ridge from Antung and Antushan in the south to Yukushan in the north than he ordered his force, strengthened by the reserves, to hasten at full speed along three lines in the direction of the Feng-whang-cheng road to cut off General Sassulitch's retreat. [Sidenote: The Japanese Chase] A strong detachment from General Inouye's Division, therefore, crossed westwards to Tan-lang-fang; the Imperial Guards marched rapidly along the main road from Chiu-lien-cheng; and the 2nd Division spread out towards Antung and pursued the retiring 9th and 10th Regiments. It was the Guards Division and the 12th Division with whom General Kashtalinsky had to deal in this last brave stand. He ordered the 11th Regiment under his chief of staff to assume a commanding position in the rear, from which they could fire upon the enemy from two sides. Lieutenant-Colonel Mouravsky's battery he held in reserve; and then he ordered the wearied troops of the 12th Regiment, the 22nd Regiment, and the 3rd Battery of the 6th Brigade to retire under cover of the fire of the 11th. [Sidenote: The Last Gallant Stand] But before this manoeuvre could be effected the fierce pursuit of the Japanese had gained its object. Both the Guards and the 12th Division reached the spot by 1 o'clock, and approaching from opposite sides, surrounded the hapless Russians. An enfilading fire made it impossible for the 3rd Battery to retire. Its horses were killed, and, therefore, Colonel Mouravsky, who assumed the command, ordered the gunners to take up a position where they stood and return the Japanese fire at close quarters. This they did with the greatest gallantry. They fought on steadily till not a man was left standing, their brave commander, Colonel Mouravsky, himself being among the last to fall. In the meanwhile, a company with machine guns had been ordered up to the assistance of the 3rd Battery. The officer in command, seeing the difficult situation of Colonel Mouravsky, took up a position, in the words of General Kashtalinsky's dispatch, "on his own initiative." He was no more fortunate than his superior officer. He, too, had entered the fatal ring of fire, and half his men and horses were shot down before he could render any effective service. An attempt to bring away his guns by hand and to take them under shelter of the hills under the terrible cross fire to which he was exposed, was no more successful, and the guns ultimately fell into the hands of the enemy. The case being evidently hopeless, the 2nd Battery, which had been brought up as a reinforcement to the 11th Regiment, was ordered back to rejoin the reserve by another road, but half its horses, too, were killed, and, finding it impossible to ascend the slopes without them, the officer in command brought his guns back to their original position, and there bravely, but unavailingly, received the Japanese attack. [Sidenote: Rifle Fire and Cold Steel] Now ensued a fierce and bloody hand-to-hand combat, in which the utmost heroism was displayed on both sides. Closer and closer pressed the Japanese till the opposing forces were almost looking into one another's eyes, and rifle-fire was abandoned for cold steel. Again and again the Japanese desperately dashed themselves upon the serried ranks opposed to them, and again and again, in spite of the fearful execution wrought by each charge, they were hurled back. But bayonet charge followed bayonet charge, and at last the devoted band of Russians could hold out no more. In some quarters of the field the white flag was hoisted and numbers of men surrendered. But the main body, shattered as it was and a mere shadow of its former strength, fought its way through. A broken remnant of the 12th Regiment cut its way through and carried off the colors in safety, torn and riddled indeed, but not disgraced. The same fate befell the 11th Regiment, a small body of which, after several hours' fighting, forced a passage out of the melee and retreated to Hoh-mu-tang with its colors preserved. But the losses of this regiment were enormous. Colonel Laming, the Colonel Commandant, Lieutenant-Colonels Dometti and Raievsky, and forty subordinate officers were left dead upon the field, and 5,000 non-commissioned officers and men were killed or wounded. More than 30 officers and 400 men surrendered. The casualties sustained by the Japanese were nearly 1,000 killed and wounded. CHAPTER VII. Russian Demoralization--On the Heels of the Enemy--Remarkable Japanese Strategy--The Paper Army--The Thin Black Line of Reinforcements--Position of the Russian Army--Kuropatkin Tied to his Railway--The Second Scheme of Attack--A Model of Organization--Perfect Secrecy of Plans--Cutting off Port Arthur--Alexeieff's Command of Language--And the Sober Truth--Third Blocking Attempt--Lurid Flashing of Searchlights--On the Bones of their Predecessors--Half the Passage Blocked--Honored but Unarmed--Russian Acknowledgements--Terrific Casualties--Togo for Liao-tung--The Japanese Landings--Escape of Alexeieff--Port Arthur Isolated. [Sidenote: Russian Demoralization] The signal victory of the despised Japanese at the Yalu River filled official circles in St. Petersburg with the liveliest dismay and shook that determined optimism which had survived even the unexampled series of naval disasters sustained by the power of the Czar in the Far East. There seems never to have been the least doubt among the Grand Dukes and the Bureaucrats by whom the Emperor was surrounded that whatever fate might befall the fleet, the "yellow monkeys," as they elegantly called their foes, would fly headlong before the onslaught of the Russian soldiery, accustomed as it was to victory on many a bloody field in Europe. The fatuity of this overweening confidence now stood revealed, and it was at last tardily recognized that as stern a task awaited the Russian forces on land as at sea. But St. Petersburg officialdom, wounded in pride and shaken in nerve as it was, still preserved a bold front to the world, and excuses for the disaster that had befallen the Russian arms were as prolific as ever. The army at the disposal of General Sassulitch, it was explained, was but a small one; that commander had blundered, and by giving battle to an overwhelmingly superior force, had disobeyed or misunderstood the orders of General Kuropatkin; and in any case, although severe losses were admitted, the main body had retreated in good order to Feng-hwang-cheng, and the _morale_ of the troops was unshaken. The plea that General Sassulitch was solely responsible for the defeat which had befallen the Muscovite arms, and that he had failed to follow the instructions of his superior, has already been dealt with, and its extreme improbability has been demonstrated, though, even if it were accurate, it would throw a very unflattering light upon the powers of Russian leadership in the higher commands. It was soon, however, to be shown that the suggestion that the army of the Yalu had retired in good order and with unshaken _morale_ was equally devoid of truth. As a matter of fact, the fierce pursuit of the Japanese and the heavy losses which they inflicted upon the retreating Russians at Hoh-mu-tang and elsewhere on the road to Feng-hwang-cheng reduced the defeat to an utter rout, and it became impossible for Sassulitch to make a stand at the latter point, naturally strong as it was and admirably calculated to resist an attack. [Illustration: AFTER THREE MONTHS. The war began with the night attack on Port Arthur on February 8, but it was not until two months later that the Japanese appeared on the south-eastern border of Manchuria. On April 4 they occupied Wiju, on the 21st troops began to land at Tatungkau, and on May 1 took place the first great battle of the campaign, when the Japanese forced the passage of the Yalu, and drove the Russians back upon Feng-wang-cheng. On May 6 the latter place was occupied without resistance. The shaded portion shows the Japanese advance.] [Sidenote: On the Heels of the Enemy] After a day or two spent in recuperating his tired troops, whose tremendous exertions during the previous week must have tested their powers of endurance to the utmost, and also in bringing his heavy guns and supply train across the river from Wiju, in preparation for the march General Kuroki began a forward movement into Manchuria with his whole army. The cavalry led the advance, operating over a wide area of country and sweeping the scattered units of the Russians before it. Some sharp skirmishes took place at Erh-tai-tsu and San-tai-tsu, but no real difficulty was interposed in the way of the victorious Japanese, who drove the enemy in flight before them. On May 6th the foremost cavalry vedettes reached Feng-hwang-cheng, and instead of finding the strongly held entrenchments which the Russian press was even then busily assuring a sceptical Europe would prevent any further advance on the part of the presumptuous foe, they discovered that the troops of General Sassulitch had been withdrawn, and they entered the deserted town without having to fire a shot. The leading columns of the infantry, following quickly behind, marched in and took possession on the same day. Before his hurried departure General Sassulitch had ordered the magazine to be blown up, but large quantities of hospital and other stores fell into the hands of the Japanese. General Kuroki's main body was not far in the rear, and the position of the whole army was soon securely established at this important point. Feng-hwang-cheng is situated at a mountain pass on the Liao-yang road, at a distance of about 25 miles from the Yalu. As already stated, it possesses great strategical importance. It is the centre at which the roads meet, coming from Liao-yang, Haicheng, and Kaiping, places which are situated at about equal distances from one another along the Manchurian railway from north to south, and it therefore constitutes a _point d'appui_ from which a force could be thrown against any of them, while it is itself a position of great strength. General Kuroki immediately began to entrench himself strongly at this spot and to consolidate his forces, while he waited for the highly important developments which were now to take place in other quarters of the theatre of war. [Illustration: IN THE RUSSIAN TRENCHES.] [Sidenote: Remarkable Japanese Strategy] A wide view of the position of affairs as they now stood over the entire field of operations is necessary at this point in order to make clear the remarkable events that followed, and to throw into full relief the extraordinary qualities of the Japanese strategy--a strategy conceived after the most patient study of all the conditions of the problems and worked out in practice with almost machine-like regularity and precision. [Sidenote: The Paper Army] When General Kuropatkin arrived at Mukden at the end of March and took over the command from General Linevitch, he had on paper an army of over 250,000 men. It was made up as follows: 223,000 infantry; 21,764 cavalry; 4,000 engineers; and artillery consisting of 496 field guns, 30 horse artillery guns, and 24 machine guns. This large force was organized in four Army Corps, each with divisions of infantry and its quota of artillery and cavalry; while there were also two independent divisions of Cossacks, four brigades of Frontier Guards, railway troops, fortress artillery and a number of small units not allotted. The First Army Corps was under the command of General Baron Stackelberg, the Second under General Sassulitch, the Third under General Stoessel, and the Fourth under General Zarubaieff. It was an imposing force, this army of Manchuria, calculated to strike terror into the hearts of an Oriental enemy, but unfortunately for the Russians it lacked one thing, and that was reality. The actual position of affairs was indeed very different. To begin with, the greater part of the troops were not near the front at all when the Commander-in-Chief appeared upon the scene to direct operations, but were being pushed along the Siberian Railway with a feverish haste which at the same time did not denote proportionate speed. When they did arrive they arrived in detached fragments, and the desperate necessities of the case did not admit of adherence to the paper arrangements. For instance, the 7th and 8th Divisions, which should have formed part of the Second Army Corps under General Sassulitch, were, as a matter of fact, sent to assist in garrisoning Port Arthur and Vladivostock. Port Arthur, it will be remembered, was by this time under the command of General Stoessel, who was therefore unable to direct the operations of the Third Army Corps, which properly should have been entrusted to him. On the other hand, the 3rd East Siberian Rifle Division, which belonged to that Corps, and the 6th East Siberian Rifle Division, which should have been attached to the First Army Corps, were sent to the Yalu, where, as we have already seen, they took part in the ill-fated conflict of the 1st of May. It will be observed from these shifts--only a few of the most noticeable out of many--that the Army Corps system of the Manchurian Army had completely broken down, and that the ideal of a coherent fighting force, with officers and men trained together in peace under the conditions to which they would be subjected in war, had not been attained in the slightest degree. The lack of organization which prevailed in the distribution of the larger commands was equally manifest in the mobilization of the units of which they were composed. Regiments were not complete; hastily-formed levies had to be added to bring them up to their nominal strength; and the ranks of the officers had to be filled up in many cases with volunteers from regiments in other parts of the Empire. The result was a composite force very different indeed in fighting power from the splendid machine which the Mikado's strategists had been carefully perfecting in time of peace in readiness for the struggle which they had so long foreseen. [Sidenote: The Thin Black Line of Reinforcements] In bringing even this haphazard collection of unco-ordinated units to the front in Manchuria, the greatest difficulties had been experienced. All that European observers had predicted about the working capacity of a railway like the Trans-Siberian for the conveyance of a huge army for thousands of miles came true to the letter. Prince Khilkoff, the Director-General of Russian Railways, undoubtedly did wonders, and the tremendous efforts which he and his staff put forth, especially in surmounting the great natural obstacle presented by Lake Baikal, were worthy of all praise. But to carry an army of 250,000 men, with all its necessary supplies and munitions of war, into Manchuria in the time required for the purpose of striking an effective blow at an enemy like the Japanese was a task beyond the powers of any railway staff in the world. The rickety single line, with infrequent sidings, which stretches across the steppes of Siberia from Harbin to the Urals was quite inadequate for such a feat of transport. By the middle of May, therefore, the position in which General Kuropatkin found himself--a position partly created by himself, as Minister of War, and partly created for him by the ineptitude of others--was widely different from that which the easy and thoughtless optimists in St. Petersburg had anticipated when the war broke out. The Fourth Army Corps was not across Lake Baikal; 30,000 or 40,000 men were shut up in the fortresses of Port Arthur and Vladivostock, and were not only useless for field operations, but were themselves liable to siege and capture; and, allowing the highest possible estimate, the Russian Commander-in-Chief had at his disposal for assuming the offensive in Manchuria no more than 100,000 men with 260 guns. [Sidenote: Position of the Russian Army] With this army he was holding the railway line from Mukden to Port Arthur, a distance of about 230 miles. His headquarters were at Liao-yang, and he held Haicheng and Kaiping in force, while a detachment was thrown out to the south-west and occupied Niuchwang. In the extreme south Port Arthur, though closely blockaded from the sea by the watchful Togo, was as yet open to communication by land, and no attempt had hitherto been made by the Japanese to secure a footing on the Liao-tung Peninsula. On the east of the Liao-yang--Kaiping line the Russian troops occupied three important passes, namely, Ta-ling, about 50 miles distant, in a northeasterly direction, from Liao-yang; the Motien-ling, about 25 miles away on the main road to Feng-hwang-cheng; and Fen-chu-ling, half way on the road from Tashihchao to Siuyen. Tashihchao is on the railway midway between Haicheng and Kaiping. The Motien-ling Pass was the scene of a sanguinary combat between the Chinese and the Japanese in the war of 1894, and on that occasion the Mikado's forces had the greatest trouble in capturing it. Besides holding these passes General Kuropatkin had pushed forward his Cossack patrols to scour the country as far as Feng-hwang-cheng, and constant small encounters took place between them and General Kuroki's outposts during the ensuing six weeks. [Sidenote: Kuropatkin Tied to His Railway] It is clear from this brief statement of the Russian position that the Japanese, always provided that they could retain the command of the sea, were placed at a great strategical advantage compared with their enemy. Holding their First Army poised at Feng-hwang-cheng, they could throw their Second and Third Armies upon the coast at any point that suited them best for the purpose of making a great combined movement. On the other hand, Kuropatkin was practically tied to the railway, and, with the inadequate force at his disposal, could not advance against Kuroki to destroy him in detail before the arrival of fresh armies from Japan. He was liable to attack at any point, and it was the peculiar difficulty of his situation that he could not tell which point would be selected. As a matter of fact, when the blow fell, as it soon did with crushing effect, he was powerless to prevent it. [Sidenote: The Second Scheme of Attack] The chapter of strategy which now opens is a fascinating one to any student of war, and fortunately its main features can be readily appreciated also by any layman who makes an intelligent study of a map of Manchuria and the Liao-tung Peninsula. The prime object of the Japanese plainly was to cut General Kuropatkin's extended line of communications, isolate Port Arthur, and then attempt to envelope his main force by advancing simultaneously from the south, the east, and the northeast. It was consequently necessary, as a preliminary, to establish the First Army securely in Manchuria, it being clear that with this menace on his left flank, General Kuropatkin would not be able to detach many troops to the south to prevent the investment of Port Arthur. Everything, therefore, depended on the fortune that would attend the advance of General Kuroki across the Yalu, and the Moltkes at Tokio, after a patient study of all the conditions of an intricate problem, had thought out two great alternative schemes to meet the eventuality either of victory or defeat. In case of General Kuroki's finding the task of crossing the Yalu unaided to be an insuperable one, the Second Army, under General Oku, was to be landed at Takushan, a port on the coast some miles to the west of the mouth of the river, and thence to strike a blow at General Sassulitch's right flank. On the other hand, if Kuroki met with success, Oku's army was to be landed at a point on the Liao-tung Peninsula to cut Kuropatkin's communications and invest Port Arthur. As we have seen, General Kuroki's signal triumph at the Yalu River rendered the first alternative unnecessary, and opened the way for the more decisive and dramatic stroke involved in the second scheme. [Sidenote: A Model of Organization] But before anything could be done to land the Second Army, either at Takushan or on the Liao-tung Peninsula, it was imperatively necessary to disarm the Russian Fleet at Port Arthur, and prevent even the remotest possibility of its interfering with the operations. Here, as always, the two services, the army and the navy, had to work in close correspondence and interdependence. From the beginning of the war these separate branches of the Japanese forces had fitted into one another like parts of the same piece of machinery, the whole directed by one uniform purpose and striving towards one great common end. The joint schemes of the naval and military strategists at Tokio will ever provide an invaluable object-lesson to all students of the art of war; and it may be predicted that they will prove of valuable assistance to the strategists of our own army and navy. One of the most remarkable features of the war has been the certainty and precision with which the Japanese have worked out their complex plans; it is no less remarkable, and affords a further striking evidence of their efficiency, that they felt able, absolutely, to count upon that certainty and precision, and to make arrangements long beforehand, which with a less carefully organized scheme and less trustworthy commanders to carry it out would have been foolhardy, or at least wasteful. Failure in any real sense does not seem to have entered into their calculations. One portion of the plan, indeed, might miscarry, but, as we have seen, partial failure had been provided against, and a rapid modification of strategy to meet the case would have been possible. It was, in fact, one of the most interesting examples of the application of brains to war that have ever been seen in the history of the world. [Sidenote: Perfect Secrecy of Plans] In the action and inter-action, then, of this great double machine, the army had done all that it was possible for it to do for the moment; and once again it came round to the turn of the navy to make the next decisive move. Upon the success of this move may be said to have depended the whole success of the after operations, but, calculating with absolute confidence upon the skill of Admiral Togo, the Mikado's strategists had already put the Second Army into a state of complete preparation, and had even ordered it to be conveyed to a place from which it could be transferred to the front at any quarter at a moment's notice. Arrangements for its embarkation were begun as soon as General Kuroki reached Wiju with the First Army in the early days of April. When that commander was able to report that his dispositions for the attack upon the Russian entrenchments on the right bank of the Yalu were well advanced, the process of embarking General Oku's troops was started at once. Not a hint was allowed to escape as to their destination; even if the press correspondents, chafing under their enforced inaction at Tokio, had learnt the name, the censor would not have let it pass to the outer world; but, as a matter of fact, it is safe to say that the secret was safely locked in the breasts of half a dozen men. By April 22nd the whole army with its transports, commissariat, ammunition train, and hospital corps, had been put on board ship, and said farewell to the shores of Japan, vanishing, for all the world could tell, into the inane. For more than a fortnight nothing further was heard of it No one could report its landing anywhere, no one could say what it was doing, and day by day the mystery grew more mysterious. Only on May 7th was the veil lifted, when this great army fell upon the coast of Liao-tung as if from the heavens, and proceeded to the investment of Port Arthur. The truth was that during this fortnight it had been lying _perdu_ on some small islands close to the west coast of Korea, called the Sir James Hall group, and distant 160 miles in a southeastern direction from the shores of Liao-tung. [Sidenote: Cutting off Port Arthur] Here, briefly stated, is the manner in which the scheme worked out. On May 1st General Kuroki triumphantly crossed the Yalu and stormed the heights above Chiu-lien-cheng. On May 2nd Admiral Togo descended once more upon Port Arthur, and blocked the harbor completely by sinking eight steamers at the entrance to the channel. On the afternoon of May 3rd, having made sure of the thoroughness of the work, he set off at full speed for the Sir James Hall Islands, reaching his destination by early morning on the 4th. Everything there was in readiness for the expedition, and within a few hours the whole of the transports, escorted by the fleet, set sail for the east coast of Liao-tung. At dawn the next day they reached the point on the peninsula which had been selected for the landing--Yentoa Bay--and in a few short hours a considerable portion of the force had been disembarked, the resistance offered by a small detachment of Cossacks, the only force possessed by the Russians in the neighborhood, being entirely negligible. On the 6th the railway line was severed, and in a few days more the Japanese were sitting securely astride of the peninsula, and Port Arthur was cut off from the world. The scheme had been carried out like the combinations of a skilful chess player, or like the successive steps of a mathematical problem. [Illustration: A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER AT PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: Alexeieff's Command of Language] It is necessary now to follow the development of these operations more in detail. The first that falls to be described is the successful attempt, the third of the series, to block the entrance to the harbor of Port Arthur. But before giving the real version of this thrilling enterprise it may be interesting to quote the report sent to the Grand Admiral unconquerable Alexeieff, whose optimism rose superior to every disaster and the alchemy of whose dispatches could still transmute defeat into signal victory. Here is the message, so soothing to the nerves of his fellow-countrymen, in which he announced the event that enabled the Japanese to land troops at any point they desired up their enemy's coasts:-- "I respectfully report to your Highness that a fresh attack made by the enemy last night with the object of obstructing the entrance to the port was successfully repelled. "At 1 o'clock in the morning five torpedo-boats were perceived near the coast from the eastern batteries. Under the fire of our batteries and warships they retreated southward. "At 1.45 the first fireship, escorted by several torpedo-boats, came in sight. We opened fire upon it from our batteries and warships. Three-quarters of an hour afterwards our searchlights revealed a number of fireships making for the entrance to the harbor from the east and southeast. The _Otvajni_, the _Giliak_, the _Gremiashtchi_, and the batteries on the shore repulsed each Japanese ship by a well-directed fire. "Altogether eight ships were sunk by our vigorous cannonade, by Whitehead torpedoes launched from our torpedo-boats, and by the explosion of several submarine mines. "Further, according to the reports of the officers commanding the batteries and the warship _Giliak_, two Japanese torpedo-boats were destroyed. "After 4 a. m., the batteries and gunboats ceased fire, subsequently firing only at intervals on the enemy's torpedo-boats, which were visible on the horizon. "All the fireships carried quick-firing guns, with which the enemy maintained a constant fire. "Up to the present thirty men, including two mortally wounded officers who sought refuge in the launches, or were rescued from the fireships by us, have been picked up. The inspection of the roadstead and the work of saving drowning men are hindered by the heavy sea which is running. "We suffered no casualties with the exception of a seaman belonging to the torpedo-boat destroyer _Boevoi_." [Sidenote: And the Sober Truth] No one reading this remarkable account could imagine that it described an operation which ultimately sealed the doom of Port Arthur. For a more sober but a more accurate narrative we must turn to the dispatches of Admiral Togo. On May 2nd, as already recounted, the Japanese Naval Commander-in-Chief received the news of the successful crossing of the Yalu. His plans were already laid and his preparations were complete. Eight merchant steamers this time had been secured for the service, and upwards of 20,000 men volunteered for the glorious duty of manning them and dying for their country. Of these, 159 were ultimately selected. The names of the steamers were the _Mikawa_, _Sakura_, _Totomi_, _Yedo_, _Otaru_, _Sagami_, _Aikoku_, and _Asagawo_. The vessels ordered to escort the doomed hulks were the gunboats _Akagi_ and _Chokai_, the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th destroyer flotillas, and the 9th, 10th, and 14th torpedo-boat flotillas. The whole force, which was under the command of Commander Hayashi, started for its destination on the night of May 2nd. [Sidenote: Third Blocking Attempt] It is a melancholy circumstance, typical of the sombre, but ofttimes splendid, tragedy of war, that of this third and most successful attempt to block the harbor the narrative is necessarily the most fragmentary and obscure, owing to the loss of life which it entailed. On the two previous occasions, reckless as was the gallantry of the Japanese and enormous as were the risks they ran, the casualties were surprisingly small, and the majority of the men engaged were able to return to their ships and tell the story of their enterprise. On this night, however, everything was against success; the Russians were more fully prepared to meet attack than they had ever been before; their shooting was more effective; and worse still, the weather turned out wholly unfavorable, the ships had to proceed singly upon their way; and when they were sunk the difficulties in the way of recovering their crews proved more than usually arduous, and most of them were either shot or drowned or taken prisoner. In spite of all these adverse circumstances a splendid success was achieved, but it was achieved under conditions which largely obliterated the record, and leaves but sparse material for the historian. [Sidenote: Lurid Flashing of Searchlights] The broad outlines of the story, however, are clear. When the steamers with their accompanying flotillas were well on their way, a strong southeasterly breeze sprang up, which rapidly freshened into a gale. It was impossible in the circumstances to keep the vessels together, and, fearing that the attack would in consequence be ineffective, Commander Hayashi signalled to his subordinates to abandon the expedition for the time being. But the weather and the heavy seas prevented his signals from being observed, and the gallant enterprise therefore proceeded unchecked. By one in the morning the 14th torpedo-boat flotilla reached the roadstead and pressed steadily towards the eastern side of the harbor mouth. The little vessels were soon exposed to the glare of the searchlights, and at once a furious bombardment broke out upon them from the Russian gunboats and the shore batteries. For the moment they retreated, drawing the enemy's fire upon them, while the leading steamer, which was close behind, made a dash for the channel. This vessel was the _Mikawa_, under the command of Lieut. Sosa. The Russians, as we have said, were much better prepared to resist attack than on previous occasions. Piles of combustibles, stationed at various points on the shore on each side of the harbor mouth, were set on fire, and cast a lurid light on the scene, throwing into strong relief the dark forms of the advancing ships, while the searchlights flashed backwards and forwards over the unquiet surface of the sea, and made every movement of the Japanese fatally visible to the defenders on the fortress. A storm of missiles burst over the devoted expedition, but undeterred, intent only on reaching the centre of the channel, Lieut. Sosa pushed his vessel forward at the top of her speed. Nothing could stop him or his crew--nor raging sea, nor searchlight, nor even the rain of shot and shell. The _Mikawa_ stuck bravely to her course, and, breaking through the boom which stretched across the mouth, anchored right in the middle of the channel. In a moment the fuse was lighted, and as the commander and his crew pushed off in the boats the ship blew up and sank in the fairway. The _Sakura_, which was not far behind, was less lucky than her companion. She was driven upon a rock at the eastern side of the entrance, and blew up outside the channel. [Sidenote: On the Bones of their Predecessors] There was a short pause, and then came a fresh contingent of fireships, rushing upon destruction. The aim of the Russian gunners had much improved; in the fierce glare of the searchlights and the flaming beacons every detail of the steamers was distinctly visible, and that they should have succeeded in advancing into the channel in the face of such a withering blast as swept across their course was little short of a miracle. The waters, too, were thickly sown with mines, in readiness for such an assault as this, and they did serious execution. The _Aikoku_ was distant only five cables from the mouth when she struck one of these deadly engines and blew up, her race cut short just when the goal was at hand. Her commander, Lieut. Uchida, the chief engineer, Aoki, and eight of the crew were killed or drowned. The _Asagawo_ was riddled with shot, her rudder was smashed, and drifting upon the shore beneath Golden Hill, she blew up and sank where the bones of so many of her predecessors were already reposing. [Sidenote: Half the Passage Blocked] But the other vessels were more successful. The _Otaru_ and the _Sagami_ reached the harbor mouth before they were sunk, and contributed a large share to the obstruction of the entrance. The _Yedo_ did better still, for she got further up than these two others. Just as her anchor was being got ready her gallant commander, Lieut. Takayanagi, fell dead, shot through the stomach; but there was no pause in the operations. Sub-Lieut. Nagatu at once stepped into his superior's place, and, anchoring the ship with the utmost coolness, sank her in the fairway. The _Totomi_ did best of all, for, like the _Mikawa_, she burst through the boom in the teeth of the Russian guns, got well inside, and turning right across the channel from east to west, sank in that position, blocking up at least half the passage. [Sidenote: Honored, but Unarmed] Admiral Togo, in his brief and dignified way, thus referred to the magnificent services rendered by the men who had fallen in this great enterprise:--"The undertaking, when compared with the last two attempts, involved a heavier casualty on our side owing to the inclemency of the weather and increased preparation for defence of the enemy. We could not save any of the officers and men of the _Otaru_, _Sagami_, _Sakura_ and _Asagawo_, and I regret that nothing particular could be learned about the gallant way in which they discharged their duties, although the memory of their exemplary conduct will long survive in the Imperial navy." [Sidenote: Russian Acknowledgments] But though the Japanese Commander-in-Chief could learn nothing particular about the gallant way in which his men had performed their duties, the gap in our knowledge can fortunately be supplied, to some extent at all events, by the Russians, who bore ample and chivalrous testimony to the splendid heroism displayed by their foes. They acknowledged, said a telegram from St. Petersburg, "that the enemy attacked in brilliant style, seeming never to notice the murderous fire which greeted them." One incident in particular struck upon their minds and extorted from them the warmest expressions of admiration. "On board the fireships," they remarked, "were a number of Japanese cadets, who displayed extraordinary bravery. As the ships were sinking several of these lads rushed aloft, and sitting on the cross-trees of the topmasts, fired their revolvers before they plunged into the sea." The account ends with a sentence of terse significance: "It is believed that none were saved." [Sidenote: Terrific Casualties] Of the total of 159 men engaged in this work of desperate heroism only 36 returned in safety, and of these 28 were wounded. Two officers (both mortally wounded) and 30 men were picked up by the Russians and taken prisoners. The number of the killed was 75. They had not died in vain. The harbor of Port Arthur was now securely blocked--not permanently indeed, for while divers and dynamite can be obtained no harbor in the world can be obstructed for ever in this way; but blocked to such an extent that the Russians could not get any big ships through for weeks, even given the most advantageous conditions in which to carry on the work of removing the obstacles. And for the momentous operations that were to follow the Japanese required not so much weeks as days. [Sidenote: Togo for Liao-tung] The fleet remained off Port Arthur till the afternoon to make sure that all the rescue work possible had been accomplished. In this duty the destroyer and torpedo-boat flotillas rendered admirable service. Once again, happy to relate, they emerged themselves from the dangerous enterprise with singularly slight damages, and lost only two men killed. At last, having realized that no more remained to be done in saving life, and having made sure that the "bottle" had finally been "corked," Admiral Togo leaving behind a small squadron to watch Port Arthur, set off at full steam with his main fleet for the Sir James Hall Islands. There he was joined by the gunboat squadron under Rear-Admiral Hosoya, which had rendered such effective service in the lower reaches of the river at the battle of the Yalu. The transports, with the Second Army on board, were practically ready for departure, and on the morning of the 4th of May the whole expedition set out for the Liao-tung Peninsula. At daybreak on the 5th Yentoa Bay was sighted. [Sidenote: The Japanese Landings] Yentoa Bay is admirably suited for the landing of a large force, for the shelving shore, with shallow waters, presents no difficulty to the approach of boats such as the Japanese use for this purpose. Furthermore, it possesses great strategical advantages. It is within easy striking distance of the railway, while the country in the immediate neighborhood favors the advance of an attacking force and gives little opportunity for defence. The likelihood of a landing here, however, does not seem to have occurred to the Russians, who had prepared instead for a descent upon Niuchwang. The whole affair is an excellent illustration of the advantages conferred upon a combatant by the command of the sea, especially when the openings for attack are numerous, as they are in the case of the Liao-tung Peninsula. General Kuropatkin could not tell where the descent of the enemy would be made, and though he could defend some of the possible points, he could not defend all. The Japanese, on the other hand, could select the spot that suited them best without any serious risk of interference. Yentoa Bay was therefore practically undefended when Admiral Togo's fleet arrived convoying the Second Army. A troop of about 100 Cossacks was patrolling the shore, but the gunboat squadron quickly dispersed it with a few shells, and the work of landing could then be carried through without interruption. [Illustration: GENERAL STOESSEL EXHORTING HIS TROOPS IN THE DEFENSE OF PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: Escape of Alexeieff] The first to make for the shore was a force of marines, two battalions of whom waded through the shallows and occupied the rising ground above the shore. Within an hour the advance guard of the army itself had been disembarked, and the rest of General Oku's troops quickly followed; the whole process being carried out with the smoothness and dispatch which characterized all the operations of this kind on the Japanese side. On the 6th, a flying column was sent to the northwards to seize the small port of Pitszewo, and more important still, another column moved across the neck of the peninsula with great rapidity and, occupying Pulantien, broke up the railway and cut off all communication between General Kuropatkin and Port Arthur. But before this was done one notable train load of passengers managed to escape from the beleaguered fortress. Chief among them were the Viceroy of the Far East, Admiral Alexeieff himself, and the Grand Duke Boris. They left only just in time. The gallant Admiral of the inventive pen had at last discovered that the repulse of the Japanese naval attack on which he had prided himself in his grandiloquent dispatch to the authorities at St. Petersburg was in reality no repulse at all; that as a matter of fact the Japanese had done just what they wanted to do; and that they were now able to proceed, in their methodical way, to land troops on the peninsula and invest Port Arthur. That the Viceroy should be shut up in the fortress, too, was not to be thought of--though probably it would have been better for the success of General Kuropatkin's strategy if his troublesome colleague had been safely removed out of the way for the rest of the campaign--and so by a desperate effort the gallant Admiral burst through the gradually tightening cordon. [Sidenote: Port Arthur Isolated] After the first interruption of communications the Japanese force temporarily withdrew, and the success of the Russians in relaying the line and in running a train loaded with ammunition through to Port Arthur revived the drooping spirits of the official classes in St. Petersburg. The act was one of extreme gallantry, and reflected the highest credit on Colonel Spiridonoff, the officer in command, but beyond giving the garrison some greatly needed supplies it did not materially alter the situation. The line was again broken up, the Japanese occupied the neck of land in force, and in a few days Port Arthur was completely cut off from the outer world. CHAPTER VIII. The First Japanese Disaster--The "Hatsuse" Strikes a Mine--Admiral Togo Undaunted--Rammed in the Fog--Renewed Russian Hopes--The Vladivostock Squadron--A Thrill Through the Civilized Globe--Skrydloff the Raider--Kamimura on the Track--Approaching Port Arthur--The Importance of Nanshan--Japanese Dispositions--General Oku's Attack--Terrific Carnage--A General Bombardment--Chances of Defeat--Rushing the Trenches--The Russians in Flight--Tremendous Moral Effect--Terrific Casualties--Alarm in St. Petersburg--Fatal Russian Strategy--Old Tactics versus New--The Veil over the Tragedy. [Sidenote: The First Japanese Disaster] The Japanese fleet, as we have seen in the last chapter, had once again done its work thoroughly. The Russian fleet, crippled in the early days of the war and harried incessantly ever since, was now for weeks to come securely shut up in the harbor of Port Arthur, and could do nothing seriously to affect the course of events. Admiral Togo, with his six powerful battleships and his splendid cruisers, had absolute command of the Gulf of Pechili, and the transports from Japan were able to pour troops with perfect safety upon the shores of the Liao-tung Peninsula. It was at this moment of conspicuous success that the first serious calamity of the war overtook the Japanese Navy, and two terrible accidents occurred which filled the Russians with hope, as appearing to betoken a turn at last in the tide of fortune and to threaten the forces of the Mikado with something like the cloud of misfortune that had so far hung over their opponents. There was, however, this notable difference between the two cases. The losses suffered by the Russians at sea were almost all due to their own lack of forethought or of skill; they seemed to court defeat, and defeat came to them in full measure. But the blow which now befell the Japanese fleet was of a kind which the utmost ability and precaution could hardly have prevented, and, moreover, serious as it was, it did not materially affect the main course of the campaign, although undoubtedly it compelled the Commander-in-Chief in some degree to modify his plan of operations. The disaster was a double one. On one and the same day, the 15th of May, the magnificent battleship, the _Hatsuse_, was blown up by mines and sunk with fully 500 men; and the protected cruiser, _Yoshino_, colliding with the _Kasuga_ in a dense fog, was totally lost, only 90 of her crew being saved. [Illustration: OUTSIDE PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: The "Hatsuse" Strikes a Mine] It was at a spot ten miles southeast of Liaotishan promontory that the _Hatsuse_ met her fate. With the _Shikishima_, the _Yashima_, and two cruisers, she was engaged in watching Port Arthur and protecting the landing of troops on the peninsula. Heavy fogs come off the land in the Gulf of Pechili at this period of the year, and during the morning navigation had been rendered difficult owing to this reason, but by 11 o'clock the weather had changed and the sky was clear. No enemy was in sight, when suddenly, without any warning, a shock was felt under the stern of the _Hatsuse_ and a heavy explosion took place, damaging her steering gear. She signalled to the other ships at once to stand by and give assistance, but before anything could be done another mine exploded under her and tore a great yawning hole in her plates. The water rushed into her in torrents, and at once the great ship began to settle down. In a few moments, with appalling swiftness, she sank like a stone, with all her freight of humanity. Had the catastrophe occurred during the night hardly a man could have been saved, but fortunately in the broad daylight something could be done to lessen the tale of death. The boats of the other battleships and the cruisers were quickly upon the spot and succeeded in picking up 300 officers and men out of a total complement of about 800. Among these were Rear-Admiral Nashiba and Captain Nakao, the commander of the vessel. The list of the drowned included some of the brightest officers of the Japanese Navy, including Commander Tsukamoto, Commander Count Nire, and Commander Arimori. Besides these, five second lieutenants, five engineers, two surgeons, six midshipmen, four engineer cadets, and ten non-commissioned officers perished. While the work of rescue was proceeding, sixteen of the Russian torpedo-boat destroyers seized the opportunity to come out of the harbor and effect a diversion, but the Japanese destroyer flotillas engaged them hotly, and other cruisers from Togo's fleet coming up with all speed, drove them back into Port Arthur. [Sidenote: Admiral Togo Undaunted] The _Hatsuse_, which was built at Elswick in 1899 after the type of the English ship _Majestic_, was a ship of 15,000 tons displacement, and 15,000 indicated horse-power. She could steam 18 knots, her armor was 14.6 inches, and the weight of her broadside fire was 4,240 lbs. Her destruction of course meant a serious weakening of Togo's first fighting line, for six battleships were by no means too large a force for the work he had to do. Moreover, the _Hatsuse_, with the _Asahi_, _Shikishima_, and _Mikasa_, were the most modern and up-to-date ships of their class in the fleet; the _Yashima_ and the _Fuji_, which completed the list, being older and less heavily armed vessels. Nevertheless the grip of the Japanese Admiral upon the beleaguered port never slackened one whit, and in the event his five battleships, with their accompanying cruisers, were destined to prove more than a match for the navy of the Czar in the great battle in blue water which took place three months afterwards. The sinking of the _Yoshino_ was not so heavy a blow, but it was serious enough in the circumstances, and the loss of life was in itself greatly to be deplored. This second-class protected cruiser was also built at Messrs. Armstrong's famous works on the Tyne. She was of 4,180 tons displacement, and her engines had an indicated horse-power of 15,750, with a speed of 23 knots, and a weight of broadside fire of 780 lbs. She was quite an old ship, as modern men-of-war go, having been launched in 1892, and taking an honorable part in the Chino-Japanese war of 1895. [Sidenote: Rammed in the Fog] On the fatal 15th of May she formed one of the cruiser squadron which, under the command of Rear-Admiral Dewa, was engaged in the blockading operations outside Port Arthur. The squadron had been standing off the harbor during the night of the 14th, and early in the morning steamed southwards. An impenetrable fog concealed everything from view, and the big ships had to proceed with the utmost caution. But in such difficult circumstances the utmost caution is sometimes unavailing, and at 1.40 the _Kasuga_, one of the twin ships recently purchased from the Argentine Government, rammed the _Yoshino_ on the port stern. A terrible gap was torn in the hull of the unfortunate cruiser, and at once she began to settle down to starboard. From the meagre accounts furnished by the survivors, it is clear, as indeed might have been expected, that the most perfect discipline prevailed on board the doomed vessel. Collision mats were quickly got out and placed over the hole, but the injury was too severe to be dealt with by such means, and the swift inrush of water made all efforts to save the vessel vain. Captain Sayegi, the commander of the ship, ordered all the crew onto the upper deck, and the boats were lowered without delay, but the disaster was too sudden for them to be of any use. Five were lowered on the starboard side and one on the port, but before they could get clear the cruiser listed heavily to starboard and went down, smashing all the five boats on that side to pieces. The cutter, which was lowered on the port side, was the only boat that escaped. With perfect coolness and self-devotion the captain remained on the bridge and shouted encouragement to his men as they were getting into the boats. When last seen he was shaking hands with his second in command, Commander Hirowateri. In another moment both officers had gone down with their ship. The boats of the _Kasuga_ were on the spot with all possible speed, and succeeded in picking up 90 of the crew, but the rest, numbering upwards of 270, perished with their captain. [Sidenote: Renewed Russian Hopes] When this two-fold disaster became known, the Russians were naturally elated and even filled with renewed hope. Its true proportions, too, were greatly exaggerated, and in the expectation that the Japanese would be seriously hindered in their landing operations on the coast of Liao-tung, General Kuropatkin countermanded the evacuation of Niuchwang, which had already partly taken place, and his forces once again occupied that port. However, as we have already stated, the loss he had sustained did not lessen the grip maintained by Admiral Togo upon Port Arthur. His weakened condition did, indeed, at a later period give the Russian fleet, after it had been patched up with infinite pains and difficulty, an admirable opportunity to break through the cordon, but the attempt was made with singular feebleness, and the admiral in command took his ships back to the refuge of the harbor without effecting anything. On the other hand, the destruction of the _Hatsuse_ and the _Yoshino_, by necessitating the withdrawal of some ships from Admiral Kamimura, who was guarding the Korean Straits, indirectly gave the Vladivostock squadron a chance of raiding the coast of Japan for some time with impunity, of destroying a great deal of merchant shipping, and incidentally of bringing about the most serious international complications, in which Great Britain, as the chief trading country of the world, was the power principally involved. [Illustration: A SKIRMISH ON THE MANCHURIAN RAILWAY.] [Sidenote: The Vladivostock Squadron] It will be convenient at this point briefly to advert to the exploits of this squadron, which have necessarily been put on one side in the recent course of the narrative by the claims of the more important events. After the destruction of two small Japanese merchantmen on the 11th of February nothing more was heard of Captain Reitzenstein's cruisers for more than two months. In April, however, the command was taken over by a more highly-placed officer, Rear-Admiral Jessen, and a sudden burst of activity took place. With the _Rossia_, the _Rurik_, and the _Gromoboi_, and a flotilla of torpedo-boats and destroyers, the new commander made a raid upon the east coast of Korea at Gensan. At that very time Admiral Kamimura's squadron started on a voyage northwards to search for the Russians, and there can be no doubt that the two would have met, but by a stroke of the most perverse ill-luck one of those dense spring fogs, which descend upon the Sea of Japan like a pall, intervened and the opposing squadrons passed close to one another without discovering their proximity. When, totally baffled by these weather conditions, Kamimura returned to Gensan after a three days' cruise, he found to his chagrin that the Russians had visited the port in his absence and had even sunk a small merchant steamer called the _Goyo Maru_. But of more serious importance still was the destruction of the _Kinshiu Maru_, a transport with 124 soldiers of the 37th Regiment of Infantry on board. She fell in with the enemy's ships on the night of the 25th while they were on their way back to Vladivostock. A summons to surrender was met by a haughty refusal. An hour's grace was given, at the end of which a torpedo was discharged against the doomed vessel, striking her amidships. Under the orders of their officers the men fell in upon the deck, as calmly and steadily as if on parade, to wait for inevitable death. The officers themselves, five in number, following the stern traditions of the ancient Samurai clan, went below and committed suicide; but the rank and file determined that they would strike one blow at the enemy before they died, and so they opened a gallant but ineffective fire upon the Russians with their rifles. The cruisers made a deadly reply with their machine guns, tearing great gaps in the masses of men thickly gathered together on the deck of the transport. Still, however, the soldiers fought on with desperate bravery, until another torpedo brought the tragic drama to a swift conclusion, sinking the ship in a few seconds. Undaunted even at the moment of death, the Japanese went down with triumphant shouts of "Banzai" upon their lips. Seventy-four of the rank and file perished, but forty-five others escaped by means of the steamer's boats, which they found floating on the sea, and on the 29th they arrived at Gensan with their thrilling story. [Sidenote: A Thrill Through the Civilized Globe] It was a story mournful indeed in one aspect, but in all others glorious and inspiring. It may be doubted, indeed, whether any one event which had hitherto occurred in the whole course of the war so inflamed the martial ardor of the Japanese and filled them with such high hopes for a successful issue from the great conflict upon which they had entered, as the splendid heroism and calm self-sacrifice with which the soldiers and bluejackets on board the _Kinshiu Maru_ met their death. Who could withhold the conviction that if this was the spirit in which the sons of Dai Nippon advanced to the work that lay before them, no misfortune, no temporary defeat could in the end prevent victory from resting upon the banners of the Rising Sun? Nor was the moral effect of the deed confined to Japan. The story sent a thrill through the whole civilized globe, and taught the nations of Europe and the masters of the New World that, accustomed as they were to acts of daring and devotion among their own people, a race had arisen in the Far East whose dauntless bearing in war they could not hope to surpass. [Sidenote: Skrydloff the Raider] Another month elapsed before the Vladivostock squadron proved troublesome again. It had then come directly under the control of the new Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific fleet, Admiral Skrydloff, who had been appointed to succeed the ill-fated Makaroff, and whose reputation in the Russian navy was second only to that of his distinguished predecessor. Unfortunately for Russia, Admiral Skrydloff arrived in the Far East too late to reach his main fleet. At Harbin he learnt that Port Arthur was invested both by land and sea, and that it was impossible for him to assume the command at the place where his services were most needed. He was, therefore, compelled to go on to Vladivostock instead and direct the operations of the cruiser squadron there in the desperate hope that at a later period an opportunity might occur of effecting a junction with his Port Arthur fleet. A further piece of bad news awaited him at the northern port. One of the four cruisers which were all that now furnished his attenuated command had gone ashore in a fog a few days previously, and had become a total wreck. This was the _Bogatyr_. She was, indeed, the smallest ship in the squadron, being a second-class protected cruiser of 6,750 tons, but her speed was high, and her loss in the dark circumstances of the hour was a serious blow. However, the gallant Admiral proceeded to make the best of the material which lay at his disposition, and in the course of the next two months he pursued most vigorous tactics, venturing southwards with great frequency, harrying the coasts of Japan, and bringing maritime commerce in that part of the world almost to a standstill. [Sidenote: Kamimura on the Track] Admiral Kamimura with his cruisers made the most strenuous efforts to catch his elusive enemy, but the bad luck which had visited him at Gensan at the end of April continued to dog him still for a long time. Again and again a convenient fog intervened to favor the escape of the Russians; moreover, the Japanese squadron had to be depleted in order to furnish aid to the main fleet which was blockading Port Arthur, and assisting in the landing of troops; and furthermore, the strategic necessity of closely guarding the Straits between Japan and Korea and preventing the possibility of a junction between the two Russian fleets, severely limited the area of Kamimura's activity. In these circumstances Admiral Skrydloff's cruisers had an almost uncheckered run of success for a period of two months. The Japanese Admiral came in for some sharp criticism at the hands of the general public in Japan for his apparent lack of energy, but the authorities at Tokio, who had all the conditions of the campaign before them in their true proportions, trusted him thoroughly, and their trust was magnificently vindicated on the 14th of August, when he at last managed to trap the Russians into his net, and administered to them a signal defeat in a pitched battle on the high seas. [Sidenote: Approaching Port Arthur] A return must now be made to the land operations upon the Liao-tung Peninsula. Undeterred by the loss of the _Hatsuse_ and the _Yoshino_, the Japanese continued to pour in troops at Yentoa Bay and Pitszewo. At the same time the 3rd Army, under General Nodzu, began to disembark at Takushan. But it was to General Oku and the 2nd Army that the honor fell of striking the next blow for the Mikado. This was the capture of Kinchau and the storming of the Russian entrenchments on Nanshan Hill, which, after preliminary operations lasting over some days, was finally effected on the 26th of May. [Sidenote: Importance of Nanshan] The narrow neck of land, a mile and three-quarters in breadth, running between Kinchau Bay on the west and Hand Bay--a small inlet of Talienwan Bay--on the east, possesses great strategical importance. The high ground to the south of it, of which the salient point is the Nanshan Hill, completely commands the approach to Port Arthur from the north, and, as it cannot be outflanked by any ordinary method, it gives an admirable opportunity, to a defending force to resist an attack from that quarter. It is, indeed, commanded in its turn by an eminence called Mount Sampson, which lies to the northeast; but in this instance the disadvantage was more than counterbalanced by the fact that the Japanese could only oppose to the heavy fortress guns which the Russians had mounted on Nanshan, field artillery of an inferior calibre. After the landing of the enemy at Yentoa and the cutting of the railway had made clear the imminence of the peril which threatened Port Arthur, the governor of the fortress, General Stoessel, wasted no time in erecting powerful defences at this naturally strong position. During the ensuing weeks the Russian engineers went feverishly to work constructing entrenchments on Nanshan and the connecting chains of hills, and also on a second line of eminences further to the south, the chief of which is named Nankuenling. These careful preparations might well seem to have rendered the position impregnable. Ten forts almost permanent in character were established on Nanshan, and at every available point trenches and rifle pits were dug and concealed with the greatest skill, and their approaches guarded by barbed wire entanglements, while at convenient places mines were laid to entrap an unwary foe. Over 70 guns, many of them pieces of fortress artillery of heavy calibre, were placed in position here, and the whole was manned by a force of 12,000 men; the utmost number of troops that could with advantage be employed in such a confined area. Altogether, with the exception of Port Arthur itself, no more formidable obstacle has ever been presented to the advance of an invading army in modern times than was offered by General Stoessel at Kinchau. The village of Kinchau itself, it should be explained, though it gave the name to the battle, was of comparatively small strategical importance, lying as it does on the low ground to the northeast of the isthmus and offering an easy prey, but at the same time no particular advantage, to the enemy. [Sidenote: Japan Dispositions] The concentration of the Japanese army proceeded in the circumstances with great rapidity. On the 21st of May, the whole force, consisting of three divisions, or about 60,000 men, was established to the north of Hand Bay. Under the protection of the angle formed by the range of hills to the south of Mount Sampson, the troops were formed up for battle, and General Oku explained to his chief subordinates his dispositions for the attack. Careful reconnaissances during the next two days, by drawing the fire of the enemy, revealed the strength of the Russian position, which stretched from Nanshan to the west to Hushangtao on the east. At this latter point eight guns were stationed, commanding the waters of Hand Bay, so that co-operation by the Japanese gunboats from this side was impossible. On the other hand, the Russians had a gunboat themselves stationed in the bay, and this was able to render valuable assistance to the defending force when the attack developed. On the west the waters of Kinchau Bay were too shallow to admit of the approach of vessels of any but the smallest draught, but four of the Japanese gunboats were able to enter close up to the shore, and gave conspicuous aid to General Oku in the course of the operations. [Sidenote: General Oku's Attack] On the 25th of May the Russian positions at Kinchau and Nanshan were heavily bombarded, and General Oku extended his line to the north as well as to the east. At dawn on the next day the attack began in earnest. A fierce and sustained bombardment, lasting for five hours, prepared the way for the advance, after which the Japanese made an onslaught upon the village of Kinchau, and drove the Russians at the point of the bayonet back upon their main line of defence, Nanshan. In this attack they were greatly assisted by the gunboats, the _Tsukushi_, _Saiyen_, _Akagi_ and _Chiokai_, which brought their fire to bear upon the enemy's batteries at Suchiatun and Nanshan, and kept them hotly engaged. The capture of Kinchau, however, was only the first step in the fiery progress which lay before the Mikado's troops. To dislodge the Russians from Nanshan itself was a work of much greater magnitude. It was to the 4th Division that the main part of this honorable duty was assigned, the centre of the Japanese line being held by the 1st Division, and the extreme left by the 3rd. [Sidenote: Terrific Carnage] Another fierce artillery duel preluded the general advance. By 11 o'clock the Russian batteries appeared to have been silenced, and the Japanese pressed forward to storm the heights. But it turned out that General Stoessel was only reserving his fire. No sooner did the Japanese debouch into the open upon the slopes which led up to the hill than a storm of missiles swept across their path, mowing them down in serried masses. The wire entanglements, too, proved a deadly obstacle. Rush after rush was made by the gallant Japanese, but every attempt to get near to the trenches was vain. The carnage was terrific. The officers fell in all directions, the rank and file lay in piles of dead at the foot of the hill, and the advance came for a time to an absolute standstill. [Sidenote: A General Bombardment] It was clear that further artillery preparation was necessary, and therefore General Oku ordered a general bombardment once more. For hours his field batteries, supplemented by the gunboats, rained shot and shell upon the Russian positions, searching the whole range of forts and trenches, and doing terrible execution. The Russian fire slackened under this fearful cannonade, but still the Japanese continued their bombardment. [Sidenote: Chances of Defeat] And now came the crucial moment of the day. The artillery ammunition of the attacking force began to give out. To bring up fresh supplies from far in the rear meant that before the bombardment could be resumed night would have fallen upon the scene, for it was by this time late in the afternoon. When this untoward intelligence was brought to him, General Oku was presented with a problem of the utmost difficulty and a responsibility which might well have seemed overwhelming. He must either hazard another infantry attack at once, fraught with all the possibility of failure, or he must temporarily withdraw his forces and wait for further ammunition and perhaps heavier guns. The second course meant only delay; the first, in the event of a repulse, meant not merely delay, but the possibility of a crushing defeat as well. It must be remembered, moreover, that the troops had been close upon sixteen hours in the field. In these circumstances a commander of less resolution and with less confidence in his men would have been under a strong temptation to choose the alternative which offered the smaller risk, but General Oku was made of different mettle. He knew that delay would upset the general arrangements of the campaign; he knew, too, that it might give a fatal opportunity for the advance of a relief force from the north. He therefore at once accepted the tremendous responsibility of ordering a resumption of the attack all along the line. Fortunately, a weak point in the Russian defences had been discovered. The shallow waters of Kinchau Bay allowed men to wade in and approach Nanshan from the southwest, at a point at which, owing to the angle of emplacement of the Russian guns, they could do comparatively little damage to an advancing force. It was resolved to try this plan. [Illustration: RUSSIANS CHARGING JAPANESE TRENCHES AT PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: Rushing the Trenches] Once again, then, the bugles rang out for attack, and the Japanese threw themselves with desperate bravery upon the Russian entrenchments. The wire entanglements gave as much difficulty as ever, and the slopes of the hill were one blinding sheet of flame; but still the Japanese pressed forward, climbing over their own dead and working their way gradually through the obstacles placed in their path. By a piece of good fortune the electric wires connected with a large mine field were discovered just in time and cut, and thus a dreadful disaster was averted. But brilliant as was the dash of the 1st and 3rd Divisions on the Russian right, the defence of the Czar's troops was stubborn and hardly contested, and it was not till the 4th Division on the extreme left had carried through their flanking operation that the issue of the day was put beyond doubt. Here the gunboats in the bay rendered invaluable service. They steamed close in and poured in a heavy fire upon the Russian batteries, covering the advance of the infantry through the shallows. In this gallant operation the commander of the _Chiokai_, Captain Hayashi, was killed, and several other casualties were sustained by the crews engaged. But the work was accomplished. Climbing the hill like cats, the Japanese soldiery broke through the entanglements in face of a galling fire and rushed the trenches, bayonetting the defenders where they stood. Nothing could stop that mad onslaught, and after a fierce hand-to-hand conflict on the summit the flag of the Rising Sun floated triumphantly over the position which the Russians had so fondly, and indeed so naturally, deemed to be impregnable. [Sidenote: The Russians in Flight] General Stoessel, finding that there was no use in continuing the sanguinary conflict now that his flank was turned, ordered a general retreat. The Japanese, however, in spite of the tremendous fatigues to which they had already been subjected since dawn, fiercely pursued their retiring enemy, with the result that the Russians found it impossible to make a stand at their second line of defence at Nankuenling, and were compelled to flee as far as the immediate neighborhood of Port Arthur itself. [Sidenote: Tremendous Moral Effect] The moral effect of this great victory of the Japanese was tremendous. The Russians, and with them a great many Continental critics, had attempted to minimize the importance of the battle of the Yalu. The Japanese, they said, were in overwhelming numbers, the position was one that could be easily turned, and General Sassulitch ought never to have tried to stand his ground. But such criticisms were silenced by Kinchau. The little Japs were seen to be equal, if not superior, man for man, to their Russian opponents, and the fierce, almost fanatical, fervor of their patriotism proved a factor in the struggle the importance of which few people had properly estimated. It was felt at once by military men in Europe, that if 12,000 Russians, armed with heavy guns, could not hold such a post as that of Nanshan against the onslaught of the Japanese, the fall of Port Arthur itself, provided there were no effective diversion from the north, was merely a question of time. [Sidenote: Terrific Casualties] Nor were the material fruits of General Oku's success less striking. His losses in _personnel_, of course, were heavy, amounting to 133 officers, and 4,062 non-commissioned officers and men killed and wounded. The casualties of the defenders were naturally not so great, but over 500 Russians were left dead upon the field, and it is estimated that their total losses in killed and wounded must have numbered over 2,000. Sixty-eight pieces of artillery and ten machine-guns fell into the hands of the victors. [Illustration: AFTER FOUR MONTHS. Continuing their advance, the first Japanese Army, under Kuroki occupied Kuan-tien on May 14. In the meantime the second Japanese Army, under Oku, had effected a landing on the Liaotung Peninsula at Pitzuwo. On May 16 they seized the Kinchau heights, and ten days later defeated the Russians at the battle of Nanshan. Dalny was occupied on May 30. The third Japanese Army, under Nodzu, began landing at Takushan on May 19, and on June 8 occupied Siu-yen. The shaded portion shows the Japanese advance.] Four days afterwards the Japanese entered Dalny and occupied that important station. With the exception of the great pier, all those enormous works upon which the Russians had been expending vast sums for years were found to be intact, and the invaders were able henceforth to use the port as an invaluable base for their operations against Port Arthur. [Sidenote: Alarm in St. Petersburg] This series of disasters caused the greatest alarm in St. Petersburg. The seriousness of the danger that threatened Port Arthur was realized in all its fulness at last, and the lofty assurance which had hitherto reigned supreme among the Imperial _entourage_ gave place to feelings of panic. The result was that desperate measures were embarked upon which only led to fresh misfortunes. General Kuropatkin himself had seen from the first the impossibility of relieving Port Arthur from the north until he had a larger force at his disposal than he was likely to secure for months to come. His plan had always been to concentrate his main army at Liao-yang, or, if necessary, at Mukden, and wait till the arrival of large reinforcements enabled him to advance against the Japanese with some hope of success. If the Commander-in-Chief had been left to himself it is possible that this plan would have been pursued consistently and a great _debacle_ might have been avoided. Port Arthur, indeed, would have been almost certain to fall, but in the opinion of nearly every strategist who had studied the problem, nothing short of a miracle could now save the so-called Gibraltar of the East. The only sound policy for the Russians was one of retirement and concentration until a more favorable opportunity presented itself. But now the Evil Genius of Russia interposed with his fatal counsels. To Admiral Alexeieff it was unthinkable that Port Arthur, at which for so long he had held his haughty Viceregal state, should be abandoned without a mighty effort. Ever since the arrival of General Kuropatkin in Manchuria had reduced him to a position of comparative inferiority, he had been intriguing against that commander with varying success, but on this occasion he received powerful backing amongst the Czar's advisers in St. Petersburg. The heaviest pressure was brought to bear upon General Kuropatkin to induce him to dispatch a strong force southwards to the relief of Port Arthur, and in an evil hour for his country and his own reputation the Commander-in-Chief weakly consented to be overruled. Lieut.-General Baron Stackelberg, the commander of the 1st Army Corps, with an army 35,000 strong was ordered to advance by forced marches into the Liao-tung Peninsula and lead a forlorn hope to save the doomed fortress. [Illustration: RUSSIAN PRIEST IN THE TRENCHES, WITH GENERAL STAKELBERG'S ARMY.] [Sidenote: Fatal Russian Strategy] The folly of this course is obvious to the veriest tyro in military science. Kuropatkin's line was already too far extended for safety. On his left flank, creeping gradually closer and working round to the northeast to effect a wide turning movement, was General Kuroki, with the 1st Army; General Nodzu, with the 3rd Army, was advancing from Takushan in the direction of Kaichau; while in the extreme south General Oku, having received large reinforcements, was able to hold Port Arthur securely invested and to march northwards with forces numbering 60,000 men, flushed with recent victory. The southward march of Baron Stackelberg, therefore, was doomed to disaster from the first. Not only was it highly improbable that he would ever succeed in getting through to Port Arthur, but in case he had to retreat, he ran a grave risk of being cut off by General Nodzu, and imperilling the position of General Kuropatkin himself. This was exactly what happened in actual fact. [Sidenote: Old Tactics versus New] The ill-fated expedition, after some preliminary skirmishing, met General Oku's main body at Wafangkau or Telissu on the 15th of June. Telissu is a village situated to the east of the railway line about 20 miles north of Port Adams. Nothing could better prove the superiority of the Japanese over the Russians in the matter of tactics than the dispositions which were made for this battle by Oku and Stackelberg respectively. Kuropatkin's lieutenant fought in the old-fashioned style, with his men closely packed together over a narrow front. The Japanese, on the other hand, advanced in an open formation over a widely extended area. At dawn General Oku ordered his troops to attack. They advanced in two columns, the main body proceeding along the railway line against the enemy's centre and right, while a second and more mobile force worked round to the west to turn Stackelberg's right flank. The Russians threw themselves fiercely upon the Japanese right and centre, and for some hours the battle was hotly contested. But in the meantime the turning movement to the west was proceeding with entire success. Before he realized the imminence of the danger, Stackelberg found that his right flank was driven in, and that his rear was threatened. He withdrew troops from his left and centre to meet this new danger; but it was too late, and he merely weakened his position in one part of the field without strengthening it in another. From three sides the Japanese now pressed their attack home, gradually encircling the Russians with a ring of fire. The terrible effectiveness of Oku's artillery was borne witness to afterwards by the Russians themselves. Their positions were heaped with dead. General Stackelberg in his dispatch describing the battle said that the 3rd and 4th batteries of the 1st Artillery Brigade were literally cut to pieces by the Japanese shells, and thirteen out of sixteen guns were rendered completely useless. A large number of officers were killed, and among the wounded was Major-General Gerngross. In spite of this tremendous pounding the Russians held their ground with great gallantry; but, as the Japanese attack developed, General Stackelberg saw that if he maintained his position much longer, he would be altogether surrounded. Therefore, just in the nick of time, he ordered a retreat. Slowly and painfully the retirement was conducted over difficult, mountainous country. The Japanese, exhausted by forced marches and two days' fighting, were unable to cut off Stackelberg's escape entirely, but they inflicted terrible losses on his retreating troops, and he only succeeded in reaching Kaichau some days afterwards with a shattered remnant of his force. The Japanese casualties in this great battle were not more than 1,000. On the other hand, upwards of 2,000 Russians were found dead upon the field and buried by the victors, and the total losses sustained by General Stackelberg's army, including prisoners taken, amounted to about 10,000. Large numbers of guns and regimental colors were captured. [Sidenote: The Veil over the Tragedy] Thus ended this ill-advised attempt to relieve Port Arthur. Henceforth all hopes of succor from the north had to be abandoned. In fact, General Kuropatkin, instead of being able to render assistance to the beleaguered garrison, was himself threatened with irremediable disaster, largely in consequence of this ill-fated operation. And now for upwards of two months almost complete darkness fell upon the tragedy that was being enacted round the doomed fortress. Rumors reached the outer world from time to time of the sanguinary combats by which the besiegers slowly fought their way nearer and nearer to the heart of the stronghold; but rumors they remained; and the Japanese, true to their policy of silence while important events were in progress, allowed no authentic news to percolate through the censorship. At last, however, the veil was partially lifted. When in the early days of August the Russian fleet, threatened with ignoble destruction by the fire of the rapidly approaching batteries of the Japanese, made an unsuccessful dash for freedom, it was recognized on all hands that the end was near. [Illustration: GENERAL NOGI BEFORE PORT ARTHUR.] CHAPTER IX. Secrecy of Japanese Strategy--The Geographical Position--Kuropatkin's Essential Weakness--Rain Stops Carnage--Oku Rolls up the Russians--Field-Marshal Oyama--Keller's Failure--10th Regiment Ambushed--Desperate Courage against Overwhelming Odds--Kuroki again on the Offensive--Capture of Niuchwang--The Bloodiest Fight so Far--The Death of Count Keller--Kuropatkin's Heavy Loss--Concentration at Liao-yang--Kuropatkin's Urgent Motives--Oyama's Great Resources--Twelve Days' Battle--The Great Armies in Touch--Frightful Scene of Carnage--Costly but Indecisive. [Sidenote: Secrecy of Japanese Strategy] The signal defeat of the Russian army under General Stackelberg at Telissu on the 15th June cleared the way for an advance northwards by General Oku's army. It was one of the consequences of the secrecy which attended the Japanese strategy from first to last that until this moment General Oku's real objective was not guessed either by foreign observers or even by the Russians themselves. The general impression was, naturally, that the Second Army was destined for the tremendous task of storming Port Arthur, but a much larger conception of the campaign was present to the minds of the strategists at Tokio. Fresh troops in large numbers were poured into the Liao-tung Peninsula, and these, under the command of General Nogi were concentrated round Port Arthur, while the main body of the Second Army was pushed northwards to act in co-operation with the First Army of General Kuroki and the Third Army commanded by General Nodzu, which, it will be remembered, had by this time landed at Takushan and was being gradually directed upon Haicheng. As soon, therefore, as his forces had been restored after their tremendous exertions at Telissu, General Oku set out with all possible rapidity along the line of railway towards Kaiping. And now Kuroki's long wait at Feng-hwang-cheng came to an end. It had, however, been well utilized. Not only had it enabled the conqueror of the Yalu to concentrate an army of upwards of 100,000 men, but in the interval his engineers had been employed in constructing defences, of a semi-permanent character, which, in the event of a subsequent retreat being rendered necessary, would make the position almost impregnable against Russian attack. But on the 23rd June General Kuroki broke camp, and, leaving behind him only a rear guard, took the first step in that great series of operations which, as they advanced northwards, stained the fertile plains of Southern Manchuria with the blood of Japanese and Muscovite alike and culminated around Liao-yang and Mukden in the most terrific and sanguinary conflicts experienced in the annals of war since the great struggle between the Northern and Southern States. [Sidenote: Geographical Position] The key to the valley of the Liao River, it will be remembered, lies in the three passes of Motienling, Taling, and Fenshuiling; and these were all held in force by the Russians. The first of them stands on the main road leading from Feng-hwang-cheng to Liao-yang; the second (which must not be confused with the pass of the same name situated north of the Taitse River at about 60 miles to the east of Liao-yang) commands the road between Feng-hwang-cheng and Haicheng; and the third is on the road from Siuyen to Tashichao and is about 20 miles southeast from the latter place. The situation of the most important posts along the railway from Mukden to Kaiping has already been indicated, but for the sake of clearness it may be repeated that Liao-yang, where General Kuropatkin had concentrated his main army, stands about 40 miles south of Mukden; that 30 miles further south again is situated Haicheng; and that an interval of 30 miles more separates that town from Kaiping, or Kaichau, as it is sometimes called, Tashichao lying half-way between. [Sidenote: Kuropatkin's Essential Weakness] General Nodzu's troops were now for the first time brought into action, and operated in unison with General Kuroki's army in the attack upon the passes. A combination of most skilful movements made them masters of these important defiles within a few days of one another. In each case the tactics were the same. A frontal attack was pushed forward by one division, while strong bodies were sent round both to the right and left, and, securing ground from which they could enfilade the Russian trenches, rendered the position untenable by the defending force. General surprise was felt at the ineffective stand made here by General Kuropatkin's troops, especially as they had spent at least three months in building entrenchments, protected by wire entanglements and all the accessories of modern scientific warfare. The fact was, however, that the essential weakness of Kuropatkin's army in point of numbers compared with its opponents was now made disastrously apparent, and in spite of the natural and artificial strength of these passes, he could not prevent the superior force which the Japanese invariably contrived to bring against him at any given point from turning his flanks. Both the Taling Pass and the Motienling Pass, at the latter of which General Count Keller, who had superseded General Sassulitch in his command, directed the Russian operations, fell an easy prey to Kuroki's manoeuvres; but at Fenshuiling General Nodzu met with fierce opposition. The defile was defended by fourteen battalions of infantry and three regiments of cavalry, supported by thirty guns, and a severe engagement took place, lasting for six hours. It was apparent that the strength of the Russian entrenchments was such that a direct attack would involve an enormous sacrifice of life; but after brilliant tactics, carried out during the night of the 26th June and the early morning of the 27th, the Japanese outflanked their enemy and drove them back in full retreat down the road to Simucheng, leaving ninety dead upon the field and losing eighty-eight prisoners, including six officers. On the same day a force of three battalions with sixteen guns made a desperate effort to recapture the position, but they were hurled back with heavy loss, and the pass remained irrevocably in the hands of the Japanese. [Sidenote: Rain Stops the Carnage] At this stage in the advance further progress was delayed for a few days by an agency which at frequent intervals during the campaign rose superior to the fiercest energy on the part of either combatant. The weather, which renders war in Manchuria practically impossible in winter, succeeds in giving it an intermittent character even in summer, and now heavy rains brought the operations to a temporary standstill. The Japanese who were on the high ground overlooking the valleys did not suffer so much from the torrential downpour, but the Russians in the plains had to bear its full force, and all movements by any arm of the service were rendered impossible by a sea of mud. By the 4th of July, however, the rains had stopped, and on that day a sharp fight took place at Motien-ling. During a dense fog at dawn, two battalions of the Russians attacked the Japanese outposts and endeavored to force the position. But Kuroki's soldiers were not to be surprised, and reinforcements were hurried up with all speed. Severe hand-to-hand fighting took place; but, finally, after three onslaughts by the Russians, the Japanese hurled them back in rout and pursued them for a distance of four miles to the westward. [Illustration: AFTER FIVE MONTHS. Following the railway northwards Oku came into touch with the retreating Russians on June 15, and inflicted upon them a crushing defeat at the battle of Telissu. His advance was not again opposed until he reached Kaiping, which he captured after some fighting on July 9. Meanwhile the armies under Kuroki and Nodzu had been advancing steadily, and the Mo-tien and Fen-shui Passes, commanding the roads to Liaoyang and Haicheng, were captured simultaneously. During this month the siege of Port Arthur began on land. The shaded portion shows the Japanese advance.] [Sidenote: Oku Rolls up Russians] Two days later General Oku took up the running for the Japanese, and started to roll up the Russian forces from the south. Moving out from Erh-tau-ho-tse, which is 12 miles south of Kaiping, he marched upon that town along the road westwards of the railway, driving the enemy's outposts before him. By noon on the 9th he had forced the Russians, who were under General Zarubaieff, Commander of the Fourth Siberian Army Corps, back upon their main position at Kaiping itself, and here it appeared that General Kuropatkin had ordered a stand to be made. Upwards of 30,000 men, with numerous guns, were in the neighborhood at the disposal of Zarubaieff and Oku prepared for a stout resistance. But as a matter of fact the opposition offered to him turned out to be comparatively feeble. After an artillery duel lasting for four hours his troops advanced and seized the heights extending from Haishan-chai on the west to Shwangtingshan on the east, from both of which eminences they could command Kaiping. Reinforcements had been hurried up from the Russian rear, but they were soon ordered northward again, and the whole body evacuated the town under cover of heavy gun fire on the afternoon of the same day. The cause of this ineffectual resistance on the part of Zarubaieff was the advance of the Third Army of Japan from Fenshuiling, which acted in co-ordination throughout with General Oku's columns, and threatened to outflank the Russians. To avoid a great disaster General Zarubaieff was compelled to retreat, and as a consequence of this skilful manoeuvring, General Oku was enabled to occupy the important position of Kaiping with a loss which was almost negligible, another big step being thus gained in the progress northwards. [Sidenote: Field-Marshal Oyama] On the very day which Oku began his advance on Kaiping there occurred an event which brought strikingly before the world the fact that these movements by the three Japanese generals were only part of one great concerted plan, the vastness of which was not yet realized. This was the departure from Tokio for the seat of war of Field-Marshal Marquis Oyama, the master-mind selected by the Mikado for the supreme command of all his armies in the field. A brief description of the career of this great general, whose renown in Japan is second only to that of the veteran Yamagata, will not be out of place here. Like so many of the Japanese leaders who have distinguished themselves in the present war, Oyama's first experience of fighting was gained in the old days of the Sumatsu rebellion, in which he took part on the revolutionary side, achieving considerable distinction for his gallantry. After peace had placed the Mikado securely upon the throne of Japan, Oyama was sent to Prussia as military attaché, and was present at Moltke's headquarters at all the most important operations of the Franco-German War. There he, no doubt, gained many of the valuable lessons which have since been put in force both in the Chinese War ten years ago and in the present campaign. After the Peace of Versailles he devoted himself to a close study of the military organizations of France and Switzerland, and returning to his own country in 1875 received an appointment on the General Staff in Tokio. He was selected for the command of the First Army on the outbreak of the war with China in 1894, and directed the operations around Port Arthur, which culminated in the storming of that powerful fortress. On the retirement of Marshal Yamagata from ill-health, General Oyama was appointed to the chief command of all the Japanese forces in the field, and carried the campaign to a successful conclusion. After the signature of the Treaty of Peace the Mikado recognized his great services by conferring upon him the baton of Field-Marshal and appointing him Chief of the Staff. In the meanwhile, General Oku was preparing for his further advance northwards, where the next obstacle in his path was the Russian position at Tashichao. This town had been converted into a place of great strength and was garrisoned by at least 60,000 men with 105 guns. But before the opposing forces could meet here a fresh attack of a much more determined character than the last was made upon the Japanese army at Motienling, the Russians, under the command of Kuropatkin's most trusted lieutenant, General Count Keller, making a desperate attempt to regain possession of that important defile. This was the first occasion on which Kuropatkin's troops seriously assumed the offensive in the course of the war, and the result was a conspicuous success once more for the Japanese. [Sidenote: Keller's Failure] The Russian Commander-in-Chief entrusted two divisions to Count Keller for the purpose of the attack, and that General made dispositions for a frontal attack along the main road from Tawan, simultaneously, with movements against both of the Japanese flanks. For the main operation one division was employed, and the other was divided into two bodies, the first marching from Anping upon Hsimatang, where the outposts on Kuroki's right were stationed; and the second pushing forward from Tienshuitien along the paths which lead through the hills to the south of Motienling, where the Japanese left wing was posted. This scheme of advance might have had some success if all the parts of the machine had worked together with complete smoothness, but in the actual event the movements of the several columns were badly co-ordinated, and they came into action at different times. [Illustration: FOOD FOR THE JAPANESE ARMY.] [Sidenote: 10th Regiment Ambushed] The frontal attack began at 3 a. m., when, under cover of a dense fog, Keller's two leading battalions fell upon the Japanese outpost upon the main road some distance to the west of the pass. Notwithstanding the shock of the surprise and the formidable disparity of numbers, Kuroki's troops held their ground with the utmost gallantry. The foremost files of the 10th Siberian Regiment became engaged almost at once in a hand-to-hand combat with a small body of about thirty or forty Japanese. Several of the latter were bayonetted before they realized that the enemy was upon them, but the survivors, taking refuge among some Chinese cottages, made a desperate resistance with rifle and cold steel. The din and the crack of musketry aroused some companies who were bivouacking in the neighboring trenches, and they quickly rushed to the support of their comrades. One company, taking up a position in an adjacent temple, poured in a murderous fire upon the Russians, and another stationed itself on a hill on the opposite side and joined in the deadly fusillade. Thus the 10th Regiment, instead of successfully surprising its foe, found itself in turn surprised in an ambush, and after a hot engagement was compelled to retreat back upon its main body. It was five o'clock before the Russians could bring up a sufficient force to drive in the Japanese outposts, by which time the gallant stand made by these few companies had enabled Kuroki's troops entrenched at the Motien Pass itself to prepare fully for the onslaught that awaited them. When Keller's soldiery, therefore, came within range of the Japanese lines, they were met by a heavy fire both from infantry and artillery. Two hours more elapsed before they were properly disposed for the attack, and then, although they consisted of a whole division of 12,000 men, and were opposed by a force of no more than 4,000, their tactics proved quite ineffective, and they could not succeed in the slightest degree in shaking the hold upon the defile which their enemy had gained. The fire which was directed upon them from the Japanese lines was especially galling upon their left wing, and here, shortly before eleven o'clock, they began to give way, and ere long the whole force fell back in retreat. Their active enemy then sprang forward to the attack themselves and attempted to push the repulse home, but a strong rear guard held them in check, and prevented the reverse from becoming a rout. It afterwards became apparent that the reason for this retreat on the part of Count Keller's main body was the complete failure of the flanking movements which he had presumably intended to be conducted simultaneously. [Sidenote: Desperate Courage but Overwhelming Odds] But the attack upon their outposts upon the main road at three in the morning had put the whole Japanese army upon the _qui vive_, and both on the right and the left flanks preparations were made to meet such a manoeuvre as the Russian General had in view. On the left wing, as no enemy had appeared in sight by five o'clock, a company of the Japanese pushed forward towards Makumenza to wait for their approach. There it fell in with a Russian battalion and engaged it at once in a hot conflict. A second battalion came to the aid of the first, and for a time the little force of Japanese was in danger of being annihilated, but reinforcements quickly arrived, and though they were still numerically weaker than the Russians, they drove them back with heavy loss, and occupied the heights which commanded the approach from this point, completing the confusion of the enemy by directing a galling fire upon the main body which was now in full retreat along the road to Tawan. On the right flank the struggle was more obstinate and sanguinary. When the attack began at eight o'clock the Japanese were greatly outnumbered, and for a time one company had to hold its own against the onslaught of a whole battalion of the Russians, supported by a troop of cavalry. In the deadly conflict which ensued, every one of the Japanese officers fell upon the field, but notwithstanding their terrible losses the little band fought on with desperate courage against the overwhelming odds. The arrival of another Russian battalion seemed to threaten their complete destruction, but, fortunately, before long reinforcements were hurried up to the spot and the contest became more even. After a severe conflict, lasting for eight and a half hours, the Russians at length gave up the attempt to force the Japanese lines as hopeless, and fell back broken and defeated. [Illustration: MAP SHOWING TERRITORY ADJACENT TO LIAOYANG.] Thus at every point this attack, from which General Kuropatkin had hoped for so much, failed completely, and the superiority of the Japanese soldiery over their opponents was once more strikingly manifested. Kuroki's casualties amounted to about 300 killed and wounded, but the affair was much more expensive to the Russians, General Keller putting his losses at over 1,000 men. [Sidenote: Kuropatkin Again on the Offensive] Immediately following upon this success, General Kuroki once again assumed the offensive and captured the position of Hsihoyen, practically the last stronghold occupied by the Russians on the high ground overlooking the plains of the Liao River. This success was the work of the Twelfth Division, that division which, it will be remembered, decided the battle of the Yalu by its flank attack on General Kashtalinsky's left. It now covered itself with fresh glory under its skilful commander, General Nishi. The same tactics as had been adopted in all these operations against the strongly entrenched positions of the Russians were once more employed. The enemy were kept busy with a frontal attack while a column marched around their right flank and rendered their carefully prepared stronghold untenable. A general advance was then made, and the Russians were driven back upon Anping in complete rout with more than 1,000 casualties. The Japanese killed and wounded amounted only to half that number. On the 24th of July, Oku resumed his advance northwards and attacked the powerful Russian position at Tashichao. The skilful handling of Zarubaieff's large force of artillery made it impossible for the Japanese to carry the trenches by daylight, but, waiting till nightfall, they made a fresh onslaught under the beams of a full moon. Point after point fell into their hands, and next morning General Zarubaieff, feeling the hopelessness of continuing the defence, especially in view of a fresh movement by General Nodzu's army which threatened his left, decided to retreat. This unexpectedly easy victory was gained by the Japanese at the expense of about 1,000 casualties; but the Russians lost twice that number of men, and among the wounded were two officers of high rank, Generals Kondratovitch and Skaloff. Two days later a detachment of Oku's army entered Yinkow, the port of Niuchwang--a highly important prize, for it provided the invaders with a new and most valuable base for the advance from the south. [Sidenote: Capture of Niuchwang] On July 31st the advance was resumed all along the line of the extended front of the Japanese, and each of the three armies was hotly engaged. Oku's steady march along the line of the railway drove the retreating enemy into Haicheng. On the right, at Tomucheng, a more sanguinary battle took place between General Nodzu's army and two divisions of Russian infantry, supported by seven batteries of artillery, under the command of General Alexeieff. The Russians occupied a strongly entrenched position on the hills to the north of Tomucheng, the work of fortification having occupied several months. But the result was the same here as in every quarter of the theatre of war. The two armies were locked together in a deadly struggle for nearly the whole of a scorching day, until the Japanese left wing, attacking with desperate bravery, carried the heights opposite to them and threatened the rear of the Russian centre. During the night, therefore, General Alexeieff fell back, leaving more than 150 dead upon the field and abandoning six guns, which fell into the hands of the enemy. The result of these combined operations of the Second and Third Armies was that Haicheng was occupied on August 3rd, and Niuchwang--which must be distinguished from the port of the same name--also fell into Oku's grasp. [Sidenote: The Bloodiest Fight so Far] It was in the north, however, with the Japanese First Army that the bloodiest fighting ensued, and that the Russians met with the most signal defeat. On July 31st Kuroki's right wing held Kushulintzu, 4 miles to the west of Hsihoyen, and his centre occupied Yangtzuling, 6 miles to the west of Motienling, both places being situated about 25 miles from Liao-yang. Opposite to Kushulintzu the Russians, who held a very strong position on the high ground, consisted of two divisions of infantry with well-placed artillery. The attack began at dawn and continued all day. The Japanese infantry advanced gradually across the open valley undeterred by the murderous fire poured upon them from the Russian batteries, and threw themselves recklessly upon the enemy's redoubts. It was on the wings that the Russian defence was the weakest, and here, by sunset, the impetuous onslaught of the Mikado's troops carried all before it, nightfall finding them in possession of some of the most important heights. But the strength of the Russian centre was too great to be forced easily, and the Japanese therefore bivouacked on the field, and waited till daybreak to resume the attack. With the first rays of dawn they were ready once more for the fray, and again the hills resounded with the roar of artillery. For several hours the battle raged, the Russians making a most obstinate defence, but as the Japanese captured height after height the enemy could stand their ground no longer, and by noon they broke and fled westwards, leaving several field guns behind in the victor's hands. [Illustration: AFTER SIX MONTHS. Kuroki and Nodzu now called a halt to enable Oku to come into line with them. The latter, working his way steadily northwards, drove the Russians out of Tashichiao after three days' severe fighting. Newchwang was occupied on July 25, and Nodzu, having advanced his forces to Si-mu-cheng and driven out the Russians on July 30, the two generals joined forces and marched on Haicheng, which they occupied on August 2. A general assault was delivered on Port Arthur on July 26, and a few days later the Japanese captured Wolf Hill, Green Hill, and Takushan. The shaded portion shows the Japanese advance.] [Sidenote: The Death of Count Keller] At Yangtzuling the conflict was even more severe. The Russian force here consisted of two and a half divisions, with four batteries of artillery, and General Count Keller commanded in person. It was destined to be that gallant but unfortunate officer's last fight, for he fell mortally wounded in the course of the second day's operations. The Japanese plan of attack was very much the same as in the case of Kushulintzu. In spite of the tropical sun, whose rays beat upon their heads without protection, their advance was irresistible, and throwing themselves upon the enemy with a fierce _elan_, which carried all before it, they captured some of the principal positions by the close of the day. Here again, however, a numerous body of Russians held out in the centre against the most desperate attacks, and the Japanese were therefore compelled to bivouac on the field for the night and resume the conflict on the succeeding day. The dawn opened with a terrific artillery duel between the opposing batteries, and all the morning the guns belched forth flame and death. It was in the course of this tremendous bombardment that Count Keller met with his death. He was a man of reckless courage, and he insisted on taking his stand to direct the operations in a battery which was most heavily exposed to the fire of Kuroki's guns. So fiercely did the shells fall all around that his staff represented to him that he must be the object himself of the enemy's cannonade, but he refused to retire to a less exposed position. He had hardly dismounted from his horse when a shrapnel shell burst within a few paces from him and hurled him to the ground. A sergeant rushed up to him to raise him in his arms, but the general motioned him away and expired a few moments afterwards. His wounds were of the most terrible nature. Two fragments of shell struck him upon the head and three others in the chest, and he had thirty-one shrapnel bullet wounds in different parts of his body. The death of their commander threw the Russians into final confusion, and they retreated in haste, leaving a number of field guns in Kuroki's possession. [Illustration: DEATH OF COUNT KELLER AT YANG-ZE-LING PASS.] [Sidenote: Kuropatkin's Heavy Loss] The loss of Count Keller was a particularly heavy blow to Kuropatkin, for he was the most trusted of all his subordinates and was most deeply in the confidence of the Commander-in-Chief. His experience, too, of war was gained in the Russo-Turkish campaign, on the staff of the same famous leader, Skobeleff, and he actually succeeded Kuropatkin as Aide-de-Camp to that General when the present Commander-in-Chief was wounded at the Shipka Pass in 1877. Besides the signal misfortune he sustained by the death of this distinguished officer, General Kuropatkin had to add to his already heavy casualty list a further loss of 2,000 officers and men. It was an even more significant and discouraging fact, however, that among the troops opposed to the victorious Kuroki on this occasion were the most recent accessions to the Russian army, the 10th and 17th Corps. These forces, which came from European Russia and were greatly superior to the Siberian soldiery both in physique and discipline, had been counted upon to do much to stem the tide of disaster, but though they made a better appearance than the troops which had been in action previously, all their prowess was unavailing against the impetuous patriotism of the Japanese, who had by this time proved themselves to be among the finest infantry in the whole world. [Sidenote: Concentration at Liaoyang] It now became plain to Kuropatkin that the Japanese could not be stopped before Liao-yang itself was reached. He therefore concentrated all his available forces at that powerful and highly fortified position in preparation for a great pitched battle. During the months which had elapsed since the arrival of the Russian Commander-in-Chief at the seat of war, Liao-yang had been turned into a great place of arms. Its great natural defensive advantages had been skilfully improved upon. Every inch of suitable ground had been carefully fortified, and there can be little doubt from the character of the dispositions which had been made that Kuropatkin hoped to be able not only to make a stand here, but to hurl back the armies of the Mikado in disorder, save Southern Manchuria for the Czar, and perhaps even march forward afterwards to the relief of the beleaguered fortress of Port Arthur. His armies, indeed, had been tragically reduced in numbers in every combat that had yet taken place. The arrival of the Tenth and Seventeenth Army Corps had put him in a better position; but against this had to be set the loss of nearly 30,000 men killed or wounded since the battle of the Yalu proved the magnitude of the task which lay before him. Yet he now possessed a force of about 132,000 men, with 400 guns, and he held a position of enormous strength. All of his troops, indeed, had tasted the bitterness and discouragement of defeat in the course of the fifteen engagements which had taken place since the outbreak of the war, but he himself had not yet been present in person upon the field of battle, and he might well hope that the failure which had attended all the efforts of his lieutenants would give place to victory when he took the direction of affairs into his own hands. [Sidenote: Kuropatkin's Urgent Motives] At all events, whatever the issue of the battle might be, there could be no doubt that a retreat from Liao-yang without fighting was for every reason impossible. The Court of St. Petersburg had already been rendered restive by the continual withdrawal of the main body of Muscovite armies to the north; his enemies were busy with their detractions; and the irrepressible Alexeieff was always near to make capital out of the difficulties, and to distort and misrepresent the actions of his abler rival. But beyond all these personal reasons, powerful enough in themselves in the eyes of a man holding such a position as Kuropatkin, there were more worthy considerations which weighed heavily in the scale in favor of boldly submitting his fortunes to the cast of the die and risking all in one mighty struggle. The honor of the Russian arms and the prestige of the Empire were at stake; a continued retreat without a supreme effort to roll back the tide of invasion was politically dangerous to a Dominion which owed its very existence in the East to the preservation of a haughty and determined front; and, more serious even than the growing restlessness of all those Oriental races who yield unwilling allegiance to the Little White Father, was the increasing discontent in Russia itself, and the uprising once more of the forbidding spectre of Nihilism and revolution. A pitched battle on a grand scale was, therefore, for every reason unavoidable, and, in spite of all the risks he ran, Kuropatkin faced the prospect before him with calm courage and resolution. [Sidenote: Oyama's Great Resources] The state of things on the other side was very different. Here there was nothing to discourage, but everything to inspire hope. Field-Marshal Oyama, who had now reached the scene of operations, found at his disposal three great armies upon whose banners victory had consistently rested during a now prolonged campaign. The organization of the whole of the forces was perfect, and though it was now far from its base, its supplies were ample and constant. The natural difficulties of the advance were, indeed, great, but they were no greater than those which had already been triumphantly overcome. His chief lieutenants were men of tried capacity. The subordinate officers had proved their efficiency in tactics on many a hard-fought field, and the rank and file were inspired, not only with a rare intelligence, but with a fanatical patriotism, which made them, perhaps, the most formidable instruments of warfare the world has ever seen. And after all the inevitable losses of the past three months, he yet had under his command a total field force (exclusive of the army of 100,000 men engaged in besieging Port Arthur) of 220,000 men and 600 guns. It was plain that only the most desperate resistance on the part of the Russians could prevent the crowning mercy of a great victory, and already foreign critics were anticipating a Russian Sedan upon the banks of the Taitse River. [Illustration: THE SIX DAYS ACTION AROUND LIAOYANG AUG. 29TH-SEPT. 3RD.] [Sidenote: Twelve Days' Battle] Torrential rains again delayed operations for upwards of three weeks, but by the 24th of August comparatively dry weather had set in, and on the 25th the general advance of the Japanese upon Liao-yang began. We now enter upon one of the most tremendous dramas ever known in military history--the twelve days' battle around Liao-yang. No fighting so fierce, so sustained, and so bloody has been experienced since the armies of Grant and Lee met in their great death grapple in the Wilderness in the Civil War. The terrible conflict raged for the most part simultaneously over an enormously extended front, and an adequate description can only be given by following in turn the fortunes of the separate Japanese armies. But for sake of clearness it will be well to attempt, first, a brief and comprehensive account of the main lines of the operations and their final result. [Sidenote: The Great Armies in Touch] On the 25th Kuroki's army of three divisions advanced upon Anping, and, after desperate fighting, drove the Russians back from that place to Liao-yang. At the same time the Third Army under General Nodzu, manoeuvring with Oku's forces on the left, turned the enemy out of their strong position at Anshanchan, situated about 15 miles to the south of Liao-yang. The advance of Oku was delayed considerably by the efforts of an enterprising rear guard left by Kuropatkin to cover the retreat, and by the thick mud, which made the roads almost impassable; but on the 29th both he and Nodzu came into touch with the enemy in their main position in front of Liao-yang. Here Kuropatkin held an entrenched front of about five miles, with three lines of defence formed by separate ranges of low hills, fortified with consummate skill. [Illustration: MAP SHOWING ROUTE OF MARCH AND PRINCIPAL ACTIONS OF THE FOUR JAPANESE ARMIES Feb. 7th-Sept. 4th.] [Sidenote: Frightful Carnage] To the Japanese, however, no obstacle seemed too great. After a prolonged artillery preparation, in which for the first time the Russians showed themselves equal, if not superior, to their opponents, the superb infantry of Dai Nippon were ordered to the attack. Then ensued the most frightful scene of carnage and heroic endurance. For five long days the splendid troops of Oku and Nodzu flung themselves upon a foe not less gallant than themselves, and time after time they were held back with broken ranks, leaving behind great heaps of dead. And when at last they did make their bloody passage into the town of Liao-yang, it was only to learn the mortifying intelligence that their enemy had escaped from the toils so carefully set for him, and that for a considerable time their tremendous struggle had been conducted, not with the main body of Kuropatkin's army, but with a rear guard. [Illustration: JAPANESE ASSAULT ON A RUSSIAN POSITION AT LIAO-YANG.] [Sidenote: Costly but Indecisive] For those incalculable factors which so often defeat the best laid schemes of strategy had come into play, and had seriously affected the success of the great move which Kuroki was endeavoring to carry out on the Japanese right. In this case they proved to be the weather, which had swollen the Taitse River into a flood, and a sudden display of great tactical ability by Kuropatkin, which his previous failures in the sphere of strategy had led no one to expect. Upon Kuroki, of course, as holding the most advanced position on the Japanese right, it depended to envelope the left flank of the Russians and cut off their retreat to the north. But, unfortunately for the success of Oyama's strategy, the river Taitse, which runs from east to west just north of Liao-yang, and which had to be crossed by the Japanese, was so flooded that a day or two elapsed before it could be forded, and it was not till the 31st that Kuroki's forces were able to take up a position on the opposite bank. It was hoped, however, that a rapid march to the northwest would place the commander of the First Army astride of the railway at Yentai, and that he would thus be able to cut off Kuropatkin's retreat and enclose him in another Sedan within a ring of steel. But the delay proved fatal, for it gave Kuropatkin time to rescue his army from the perilous position in which it was placed. With a skill which must always extort the admiration of military critics he withdrew the greater part of his forces across the river in the most perfect order, unknown to the Japanese, and massed them on his left flank. The consequence was that instead of finding a division, or at the most two divisions, opposed to him, Kuroki was faced by the greater part of the Russian Army, established in strong positions on a range of hills between himself and the railway line. It was a masterly piece of generalship on the part of the Russian Commander-in-Chief, and it saved the situation. Indeed, at one point it threatened Kuroki with destruction, for he was almost cut off from support, and for twenty-four hours both officers and men were without either drink or food except small rations of dried rice. But the extraordinary gallantry of the sons of Japan rose superior even to these conditions. Again and again they advanced to the attack against powerful positions held by superior numbers, and the salient point in the Russian defence, the hill of Haiyentai, was heaped with the dead of the heroic combatants. Despite every effort, however, Kuroki could not pierce the enemy's line, and it was not till a fine forced march by a division detached from General Nodzu's army arrived to reinforce him that he was able to reach the railway after four days of tremendous combat. But by that time it was too late. The skilful dispositions made by the Russian General had pulled the bulk of his force out of the trap, and they were in full retreat upon Mukden. It would be difficult to describe the horrors of that retreat, but the Japanese were too exhausted to make as effective a pursuit as they would otherwise have done, and the Russians managed to get away without losing a single piece of artillery. The losses in this tremendous battle, or rather series of battles, were enormous. The Japanese official account places their casualties at 17,539, but, if we are to believe the correspondents, that is an understatement. The exact Russian losses, including those incurred during the retreat, are placed by some authorities at 25,000, by others as high as 35,000. Unfortunately for the Japanese, all this costly expenditure of life was indecisive in its results, and left the main object of their strategy unfulfilled. Kuropatkin had been defeated, indeed, but he had not been routed, and it was apparent that the fighting would have to be resumed once more in the neighborhood of Mukden. CHAPTER X. Investment of Port Arthur--Admiral Witoft's Sortie--Tremendous Naval Battle--Harbors of Refuge--International Complications--Insignificant Japanese Losses--The Last Raid from Vladivostock--The Port Arthur Garrison--Fury Unparalleled in History--Kuroki Improves his Reputation--The Grim Reality of War. [Sidenote: Closer Investment of Port Arthur] While the victorious armies of Oku, Kuroki, and Nodzu were pressing northward towards Liao-yang, driving before them the only force from which the beleaguered garrison of Port Arthur could look for relief, the siege of Russia's "impregnable fortress" proceeded with unabated determination and constantly increasing vigor. It was on June 26th that the general advance on Port Arthur began; and from that date the lines of investment were steadily drawn closer and closer. Siege trains were landed at Dalny as well as large reinforcements, but for nearly a month complete silence as to the progress of events was maintained at Tokio. From time to time sensational and contradictory reports of desperate fighting were received from Chifu, where Chinese refugees landed in a constant stream; and authentic messages from General Stoessel, the heroic commander of the fortress's garrison, reached the outer world at intervals through the medium of a wireless telegraphy installation at the Russian Consulate in Chifu. Naturally, these messages were of a reassuring character, and generally recorded some repulse of the Japanese army of investment; but though no word of contradiction was uttered at Tokio, the world was hardly inclined to accept the Russian stories at their face value. When, for example, in a triumphant message, General Stoessel reported that a grand assault on the Russian defences had taken place on July 26th, 27th, and 28th, and had been repulsed at all points, with great slaughter, cautious observers of events waited for confirmation of the news; although the Czar himself hastened to dispatch to his gallant representative in Port Arthur a telegram of warm congratulation and praise. Hesitation was justified by the event; for two days after their alleged decisive repulse they captured the dominant position of Wolf Hill, and thereby made the first important breach in the defences of Port Arthur. Wolf Hill is an eminence half a mile south of the village of Suei-ze-ying, which is some three and a half miles along the railway line running due north from Port Arthur. The importance of the captured position for the Japanese was that it enabled siege guns to command, within easily effective range, the anchorage of the Russian squadron on the inside of the Tiger's Tail. This meant, of course, either that the fleet must go to sea and fight, or must endure impotently the hammering of the 12in. shells which soon began to drop from the batteries on Wolf's Hill. Within a week of the capture of the position, the Japanese had mounted their siege guns; and after a bombardment of two days, the Russian decision was taken to attempt another sortie. The last sortie, it will be remembered, took place on June 23rd, and ended in the inglorious return of the whole fleet; as the Russian Admiral, in spite of the advantage which, as we now know, he possessed over his enemy in battle strength, did not dare to give battle. This decision which let slip one of the best opportunities that the Russian Pacific Squadron ever had of favorably modifying the naval situation in the Far East, was ill-received at St. Petersburg, where carefully planned dispositions were thus brought to nought; and as soon as the contemplation of another sortie became immediately necessary, the strictest injunctions were sent to Admiral Witoft as to his course of action. [Sidenote: Admiral Witoft's Sortie] The Czar emphatically ordered him on no account to return to Port Arthur. His object must be to inflict as much damage as possible on the enemy's fleet, and, if possible, to effect a junction with the Vladivostock Squadron; while, if the latter object were incapable of accomplishment, he was to endeavor to reach the German port of Kiau-chau. From circumstances that have since transpired, there is reason to believe that an understanding had been arrived at between the German and Russian Governments as to the reception of the Russian ships at the German naval base. Although for the moment the Russian fugitives would, by the laws of neutrality, be placed out of action, they would be in the hands of a "benevolent" government; and would remain a factor to be reckoned with, if in the future Germany were to intervene in the settlement of the struggle. Accordingly, on the morning of August 10th, the Russian Squadron, in full strength except for the armored-cruiser _Bayan_, which was in too injured a condition to take its place in the fighting line, began slowly to pass through the narrow channel leading from the open sea; and by eleven o'clock the ships were drawn up in battle line, and steamed away on a course nearly due south. The gallant little _Novik_, the fastest vessel in either fleet, headed the line, while the patched-up _Retvisan_ came next, followed by the _Czarevitch_, the _Peresveit_, the _Pobieda_, the _Poltava_, and the _Sevastopol_, with the cruisers _Askold_, _Diana_, and _Pallada_, and a torpedo flotilla of eight vessels. The squadron of Japanese light cruisers which had been watching Port Arthur retreated before the advancing enemy, and signalled at once to the sleepless Togo, whose main battle fleet was lying forty miles away. This consisted of four battleships and three armored cruisers--namely, the _Mikasa_, carrying Admiral Togo's flag; the _Asahi_, the _Shikishima_, the _Fuji_, the _Nishin_, the _Kasuga_, the _Jakumo_, and a number of protected cruisers, including the _Kasagi_, the _Chitose_, the _Takasugo_, as well as a flotilla of some forty torpedo craft. Thus the Russians had a clear superiority in battleships partially discounted by Togo's superiority in armored cruisers. [Sidenote: Tremendous Naval Battle] Thirty-five miles to the southeast of Port Arthur the opposing fleets came within range; and then began the most tremendous naval battle--measured by the offensive power of its combatants--that the world has yet seen. The naval world had been waiting almost with eagerness for the present war to afford the spectacle of a fleet action between modern armorclads carrying modern armaments; and this unprecedented event had at last come to pass. The Russian ships were steering for the south, and the object of the Japanese was evidently to head them off. At a range of 6,000 yards, or about three miles and a half, the _Mikasa_, the Japanese flagship, opened fire with her 12in. guns on the leading Russian battleship and immediately the action became general. Admiral Togo concentrated his fire on the Russian battleships, leaving the cruisers very much to chance; and so awful was the effect of this deadly rain of shell, that when at last the sun went down on that eventful day, the Russian fleet was in hopeless disorder, and its stoutest ships were almost unmanageable wrecks. The experience of the _Czarevitch_ and the _Retvisan_, as recounted by survivors on board of those devoted vessels, affords a lurid picture of the appalling nature of a modern naval battle. The _Czarevitch_, which ultimately reached Kiao-chau, was bombarded at close range by several of the Japanese armorclads. In the course of five minutes she was struck by three successive 12in. shells, and that fact--which is an eloquent testimony to the quality of the Japanese gunnery--practically decided her fate. Admiral Witoft was killed by the first shell, and his chief of staff was mortally wounded by the second. The steering gear was knocked to bits, so that the ship was out of control and began to travel in a circle, and the foremast was tumbled over the side; while every man in one of the batteries was blown to pieces. The guns' crews were annihilated at the work, and the deck gear was twisted into fantastic shapes or carried away altogether; and so much of it was afterwards picked up that the Japanese supposed that the _Czarevitch_ had foundered. Poor Witoft--as brave a man as ever sailed--met a terrible death. He was blown to pieces by a shell, and of his body only one leg was ever found. His last signal was: "Remember the Emperor's order not to return to Port Arthur." The decks of the battleship presented the appearance of a shambles; her armor-plating was pierced in four places; her masts were shattered and bent in the form of a cross; her bridge was carried away; and many of her guns were disabled. Steering with her propellers she managed, under the cover of night, to escape the attacks of the Japanese torpedo-boats, and to reach Kiao-chau. Hardly less severe was the mauling which the _Retvisan_ received. This battleship received such a concentrated fire that when she attempted to break from the circle of her enemies, she was literally blown out of her course. The other four Russian battleships suffered more or less severely. The _Pobieda_, for instance, had her masts carried away, and her heavy guns were put out of action. When the _Czarevitch_ got out of control, the Russian line was necessarily broken, and then the fleet seems to have suffered most severely. The command of the squadron passed to Prince Ukhtomsky, as second in rank to Admiral Witoft, and that of the cruiser division to Rear-Admiral Reitzenstein; and between the two there seem to have been divided counsels. The latter decided to cut his way southwards at any cost in accordance with the orders of the Czar. With the _Askold_, _Novik_, _Pallada_, and _Diana_, he became engaged with the Japanese cruisers, and by dint of hard fighting, in which the _Askold_ was badly mauled, he managed to get clear of the enemy, and in the early morning of the 13th reached Shanghai, having lost sight of the other cruisers. The _Askold_ had lost two of her five funnels, one of the boilers was injured, and her hull had been pierced in more than half a dozen places, both above and below the water-line. Prince Ukhtomsky preferred another course. When the signal had been displayed from the _Czarevitch_ "Admiral transfers command," the Prince, who was next in seniority, signalled from his ship, the _Peresviet_, "Follow me"--an order which, as we have seen, the cruiser division did not obey. But the battleships answered the signal; and the course steered was back to Port Arthur. In his dispatch the Prince said: "As my vessel had lost many killed and wounded, and her armament, hull and electric apparatus were seriously damaged, I decided to return to Port Arthur." Through the dark night the six battleships steamed slowly to their haven, repeated torpedo attacks compelling them again and again to change course, and finally to disperse. The _Czarevitch_, as we have seen, reached Kiao-chau almost in a sinking condition, while in the morning of the 11th, the _Peresviet_, the _Retvisan_, the _Sevastopol_, the _Pobieda_, the _Poltava_, and the cruiser _Pallada_ arrived again at the port which they had left twenty-four hours earlier. A list of nearly 400 killed and wounded was the witness to the severity of the punishment which these vessels had received. But it was evident that they were not so damaged as to have been incapable of continuing the attempt to break through to the south. Their return to Port Arthur rendered all that they had suffered vain. It meant that their situation was as precarious as ever, while their condition was less favorable for enduring it. The displeasure of the Czar was not long in manifesting itself. Hardly had the consternation of defeat subsided, than an Imperial order was issued removing the unhappy Prince Ukhtomsky from his command. Recalled he could not be, because the means of leaving Port Arthur were denied. [Illustration: RUSSIANS RECAPTURING THEIR LOST GUNS AT LIAO-YANG.] [Sidenote: Harbors of Refuge] It was some time before the full measure of Russia's disaster could be ascertained; for the movements of several of the dispersed vessels had been lost sight of. But at last all doubts were resolved. The _Czarevitch_ and three destroyers reached Kiao-chau. The _Askold_ and one destroyer found refuge at Shanghai. The _Diana_ was able to make the French port of Saigon. Two destroyers went ashore near Wei-hai-wei and were abandoned; and one destroyer entered Chifu Harbor and was there seized by the Japanese and made a prize, in defiance of respect for a neutral port. The indomitable little _Novik_ alone of all Russia's fleet attempted to make for Vladivostock. This swift cruiser had come out of the fight comparatively uninjured; and having put into Kiao-chau for coal, she steamed eastward again, and for some days was lost sight of. But the Japanese, though full of admiration for the exploits of the _Novik_, could not afford to let her escape, and they were on the watch for her appearance in the straits through which she must pass to reach Vladivostock. The cruisers _Tsushima_ and _Chitose_ had been searching the Soya Straits, which lie between Saghalien and Yezo, when at last the former vessel sighted the little _Novik_ on the afternoon of the 20th of August in Korsakovsk Harbor. Immediately the attack began, and the _Novik_ was soon compelled to retreat into the inner harbor, but not before she had inflicted such damage on the _Tsushima_ as to compel her to draw off. Presently, however, the _Chitose_ arrived, and next day completed the destruction of the _Novik_, whose crew abandoned her after running her on the beach. So ended the career of the one ship in the Russian Navy whose handling has consistently done credit to Russian seamanship. [Sidenote: International Complications] The appearance of fugitive vessels of the Russian squadron in neutral ports at once raised international questions of no little anxiety and difficulty. The attitude of Germany in particular was jealously watched by the Japanese; but, fortunately, in this case the behavior of the neutral Power was perfectly correct. The _Czarevitch_ and the three destroyers in Kiao-chau were at once ordered to be dismantled, and their crews sent home on _parole_. Equally prompt and unimpeachable was the action of the French Government in regard to the cruiser _Diana_; but the case of the _Askold_ at Shanghai threatened to give much more trouble. It was aggravated, too, by the indefensible action of the Japanese in the case of the destroyer _Rishitelni_, which reached Chifu on the 11th, bearing important dispatches. The Japanese followed the _Rishitelni_, and believing that the Chinese would not be able to enforce the disarmament of the boat, and their demands for her immediate departure having been ignored, a Japanese officer and armed guard boarded her. A scuffle between the Japanese and the Russian crews followed; and in the result, in spite of the protests of the Chinese, the _Rishitelni_ was towed out of the harbor, after an ineffectual attempt on the part of her crew had been made to blow her up. The act was certainly a violation of Chinese neutrality; but as the _Rishitelni_ had remained in the harbor for twenty-seven hours without any sign of disarming, the Japanese had good reason to believe that the Russian commander was not particularly sensitive to the claims of China's neutrality; and how well this belief was founded appeared in the case of the _Askold_, which found refuge at Shanghai. In insolent defiance of all right and law, the commander of the _Askold_ refused either to disarm his vessel or to leave the neutral port. The wretched Chinese authorities, squeezed on one side by the Russian Government and on the other by the Japanese, could do nothing. One day they issued peremptory orders for the Russian vessel to leave; and the next day they extended the period of grace. A grave international situation threatened; for the Japanese were impatient at the necessity of having to detain several of the much-needed cruisers in watching the port, and they threatened extreme measures; for all this time the _Askold_ was being repaired and put into fighting trim again. But at last the British Minister interfered to stop the work of repairs; and then the Czar issued instructions that the _Askold_ and the destroyer that accompanied her should be dismantled. [Sidenote: Insignificant Japanese Losses] In winning this signal victory over the fleet of his enemy, Admiral Togo suffered but slight damage to the ships under his command. In spite of the heavy fighting at close range, none of the Japanese vessels were crippled--a circumstance of the utmost importance to Japan, who, unlike her enemy, has no second fleet to draw upon, and whose losses were therefore irreparable. The _Mikasa_, in which the brunt of the fighting fell, lost 32 killed and 78 wounded; the _Yakumo_, 12 killed and 10 wounded; the _Nishin_, 16 killed and 17 wounded; the _Kasuga_, 10 wounded; and the rest of the fleet a few wounded only. These casualties altogether were far exceeded by those endured on the _Czarevitch_ or the _Retvisan_ alone; and the difference can only be accounted for by the greater accuracy and efficiency of the Japanese gun fire. Of the fleet that left Port Arthur on the morning of the 10th of August, only a shattered remnant returned again--five battleships and two cruisers. But the sum of Russia's disasters had not been reached. It was fated that the Vladivostock squadron was to share the fate of the Port Arthur fleet. [Sidenote: The Last Raid from Vladivostock] So sudden had been Admiral Witoft's resolution to attempt a sortie, that no arrangements for concerted action with Admiral Skrydloff at Vladivostock had been made. It was the destroyer _Rishitelni_, whose arrival at Chifu caused such unpleasantness, that bore the message informing Skrydloff of what was happening. Fortunately for themselves the Japanese seized the _Rishitelni_ too late to intercept that message. Skrydloff on the 12th steamed from Vladivostock with the cruisers _Gromoboi_, _Rossia_, and _Rurik_, and made straight for the Korean Straits. In the early morning of the 14th of August the Russian cruisers reached their old hunting-ground, and the critical point in their course--the narrow channel that separates the southernmost Japanese islands from the Korean promontory. In their successful raid during July the Vladivostock cruisers had reached the same point, and by good luck had evaded Kamimura's pursuit. The fortune of war had hitherto been all against the gallant Japanese Admiral, to whom had been committed the task of watching the Vladivostock squadron, and in particular, of guarding the Korean Straits. Even on this last decisive occasion that was to avenge his previous disappointments, he nearly missed his prey, who had got to southward of his fleet. But a timely glint of sunlight revealed the object of his long quest, and immediately putting his ships between the enemy and Vladivostock he was able to say with Cromwell at Dunbar: "The Lord hath delivered them into my hand". Kamimura had with him four armored cruisers of high speed and powerful armament--the _Tokiwa_, the _Adzuma_, the _Idzumo_, and the _Iwate_. The last two vessels were of 24 knots speed, and the slowest was of 21 knots. In gun power all the vessels were practically equal, and were much more heavily armed than the Russian cruisers, to which they now found themselves opposed. Of these the _Gromoboi_, a huge vessel of 12,336 tons displacement, was the latest and the most formidable. The _Rossia_ was her equal in every respect except gun protection; but the _Rurik_ was of another class altogether in a direction that proved fatal to her--namely, speed. Her engines were only capable of developing 18 knots, and that made her a terrible hindrance to the manoeuvring power of the whole squadron. It was not until the Japanese had crossed the course of the Russians that the latter became aware of the presence of the enemy, and then they immediately put about and steered north. According to the report of the Russian Admiral, the fight began at half-past four in the morning a little north of the line between Fusan and Tsushima. The Russians attempted to make for the open sea northwards, but were headed off, mainly owing to the inferior steaming power of the _Rurik_, which was in the rear of the line. The Russians were in single column line ahead, while the Japanese steering across their course adopted the famous T-shaped formation which is associated with the name of Admiral Togo. The battle began at a range of five miles, and very soon the superior gunnery and heavier armament of the Japanese told its tale. The Russians changed course to the east, and immediately the ill-fated _Rurik_ began to drop behind, enabling the Japanese cruisers to concentrate the fire on her at a range of little more than three miles. The steering gear broke down, and the vessel speedily became unmanageable, while the havoc wrought by the rain of shells poured into her quickly rendered her guns unworkable. With splendid gallantry the _Rurik's_ consorts, seeing her desperate plight, returned to her assistance, and circled round her in order to draw the enemy's fire and to give the crippled cruiser a chance of effecting repairs. They suffered heavily in the attempt, and their sacrifice was unavailing. The _Rurik_ burst into flames, which her devoted crew could not subdue. Her movements became erratic. She developed a heavy list to port, and then began to settle down by the stern. At last, after the fight had been going on for nearly four hours, it became evident that the _Rurik_ was doomed; and her consorts, who were in sorry case themselves, left her to make their own escape. Both the _Gromoboi_ and the _Rossia_ had been struck repeatedly below the water line, and had been fired in several places by the Japanese shells, though the fires were got under. What finally decided their flight was the arrival of reinforcements for the enemy in the shape of the _Noniwa_ and the _Takachiho_--two protected cruisers of the second class. These vessels were left to finish off the already sinking _Rurik_, while Admiral Kamimura set off at full speed in pursuit of the _Gromoboi_ and _Rossia_. For some reason, however, which has never yet appeared, this pursuit was not persisted in. Both the Russian cruisers were badly damaged, and there is no reason to suppose that they could have ever reached Vladivostock, as they did a day or two later, if Admiral Kamimura had not drawn off his ships. There is, of course, no doubt that there must have been some compelling reason to induce the Japanese Admiral to forego the full fruits of his opportunity, but that he should have had to do so made his victory much less complete and decisive. He returned to the scene of battle to discover that the _Rurik_ had gone down, but in time to assist in saving the crew, of whom some 600 survivors were rescued. This act of humanity was not a solitary instance, but it is one of the most striking instances of the magnanimous temper in which the Mikado's forces both on land and sea carried on the war. The Russian Commander, in his official report, makes it clear that he was much surprised and relieved when he found that the pursuit of his cruisers was being abandoned. He states that at this stage of the battle three of the funnels on the _Rossia_ were holed, and three of her boilers were rendered useless, so that she was not able to keep up full steam, while eleven holes had been made in the vessel's hull below the water-line. The _Gromoboi_ had six holes below her water-line; while on both of the cruisers the loss of life had been most severe. More than half the total number of officers had been killed or wounded, and quite a quarter of the crews. Thirty miles away from the spot where the _Rurik_ had been left sinking, the _Gromoboi_ and _Rossia_ were able, by the mysterious drawing off of the enemy, to stop their engines and effect temporary repairs. On the 16th of August they arrived again at Vladivostock, and went immediately into dock--with the certainty of taking no further part in active operations for some months to come. Thus within a single week both squadrons of Russia's navy in the Far East suffered signal and overwhelming disaster with the effect of immediately and palpably relieving the difficulties of the campaign for the invasion of Manchuria. If the dispersal and repulse of the Port Arthur fleet was the more momentous event of the two, the shattering of the Vladivostock squadron had an immense value in at once restoring confidence and immunity to Japan's seaborne trade, and in removing from Togo's flank, as it were, a menace which since the opening of the war he had never been able wholly to dismiss. As one result of these naval victories, the war-worn and storm-beaten ships of the Japanese fleet blockading Port Arthur were able in turn to go into dock for the execution of those repairs which must have become increasingly necessary; while at the same time it was possible to strengthen and tighten the blockade, and push on with perfect freedom from risk with the preparations for landing men and munitions at the theatre of war. [Illustration: ON THE DECK OF THE "RURIK."] [Sidenote: The Port Arthur Garrison] The fall of Port Arthur, which the Japanese, in the pardonable confidence begotten of their uninterrupted victories on sea and land, had believed to be imminent long ago, now became the object of renewed and desperate endeavor. Dalny Harbor had been cleared of mines, and rendered available for the landing of siege trains; and no sooner had the ill-fated sortie of the fleet been frustrated, than the Japanese settled down again to a fierce assault. As a preliminary, on the 16th of August a message was sent to General Stoessel under a flag of truce demanding the surrender of the fortress, and proposing that, in case of non-compliance, the non-combatants should be allowed to leave. To the former of these proposals, General Stoessel, as might have been expected of so brave and resolute a soldier, returned an emphatic and indignant negative; and the second, with much less reason, he equally refused to entertain. Just at this moment all good Russians had been gladdened, even in the midst of their disasters, by the long-hoped-for birth of an heir to the Imperial Throne, and General Stoessel was able to send a congratulatory message to the Czar, while receiving in his turn an order appointing him, as a mark of special Imperial favor, an aide-de-camp general. The determination of the Russian garrison had never abated for a moment; and such assurances that the eyes and hopes of all Russia were centred on them, stirred them to the heroic pitch of endurance. Shut off from the outer world both by sea and land, with provisions and ammunition daily becoming more scanty, and beneath the harassment of an incessant bombardment and fierce and desperate assaults, they held grimly on to the defences, and defied the worst that the enemy could do, in spite of his overwhelming numbers. The progress of the siege could not be followed easily by the external spectator, because the Japanese strictly kept their own counsel; while the reports that were brought to Chifu from time to time by Chinese refugees were conflicting and contradictory in the last degree. One thing only was undeniably evident--that the Japanese assaults on different sections of the main line of defence had been made with desperate valor and indifference to loss of life; and that, except in unimportant instances, these assaults had not prevailed. Forts were indeed captured, but had to be abandoned again, because they were exposed to the fire of neighboring forts. Not in vain had the Russian engineers exercised their best brains in devising the defences of this "impregnable fortress". Mines, wire entanglements, and every other grim expedient for checking assault had been constructed with patient ingenuity; and, most deadly and cunning device of all, every fort in the long chain that shuts in Port Arthur on the land side had been so placed as to be dominated by the neighboring forts; so that no enemy who succeeded in capturing it could hope to plant his own guns there. It is not in question that the Japanese suffered appalling losses in the attempts to storm these defences; but they persevered, though for weeks together their hostile activities were limited to pouring into the Russian lines a tremendous shell fire at long range. The fall of Port Arthur which had seemed possible in June, was confidently predicted for July. Then August was fixed, and the Japanese forces, largely reinforced, undertook another desperate assault in the middle of that month. It failed; and though the dogged, impenetrable defence and the fierce and reckless struggle went on with few intermissions, October came without any perceptible change having been effected in the situation of the combatants. [Sidenote: Fury Unparalleled in History] Two Russian officers who escaped with dispatches to Chifu, brought accounts of the terrible pitch to which the temper of the opposing forces had been wrought in their long-drawn and implacable struggle. They stated that the Japanese losses during the last attack were enormous, and that even several days afterwards wounded men were to be seen raising their arms by way of appeal, but that it was impossible to help them as the fire was incessant. As for the struggle, it was carried on with an amount of fury to which there is no parallel in history. The Japanese dashed forward with the bayonet like madmen, and in serried columns, in which the shells made terrible furrows. Every time that they reached the Russian lines horrible mêlées, in which even the wounded fought to the death, took place. No quarter was given. Pairs of corpses were found clinging to each other, the teeth of the men being buried in their adversaries' throats and their fingers in their eyes as they had expired. In the last attack the 9th Japanese Division was sent forward in two columns, each composing a brigade, and when the first gave way under the avalanche of iron, the general commanding the second fired upon and exterminated it. So intense was the fury that when they got within hearing of their foes, the Japanese shook their fists at and insulted them. The failure of the Japanese to make headway with the siege of Port Arthur was the one substantially gratifying aspect of the war from the Russian point of view. Russian patriotic sentiment had something to be proud of in the courage, endurance, and resource of General Stoessel and his troops. But, as a matter of fact, the fall of Port Arthur would have been a far better service to Russian arms than the heroic resistance of its garrison. Because the fortress, which from the first had exercised such a benumbing influence on the Russian fleet and such a distracting influence on military counsels, still remained as a fatal factor in the equation for Russian strategy. The garrison were counting on relief from the north, and the honor and pride of Russia were engaged to send that relief if possible. Consequently, Kuropatkin never had his hand free. He could never review the situation with a single eye to its supreme strategical necessities; he must always qualify his dispositions and plans by regard for the plight of Port Arthur. It was this vitiating influence that brought about the initial reverses of the Russian armies; and that prevented any bold and effective plan for meeting the Japanese advance. Finally, it was this consideration that induced Kuropatkin to give battle at Liao-yang, and to expose his entire army to a disaster from which he only escaped by the skin of his teeth. Allusion to that tremendous conflict, between forces larger than any that have ever before been opposed in modern war, has already been made in the last chapter. But the event was so memorable, and has such bearing on the future course of the campaign, that it is permissible to return to the subject, especially as further light has been thrown on it by the detailed narratives of correspondents. Of this great battle, by the way, the world has received fuller descriptions than of any other feature of the campaign by land or sea; for it so happened that the sufferance of the war correspondents under the restriction of the Japanese military authorities broke down here, and several of the most distinguished representatives of the English press threw up their connection with the Japanese army after Liao-yang, and hurried back to neutral territory to cable home the full dispatches which the censor would not have permitted. [Sidenote: Kuroki Improves his Reputation] It is perfectly evident in the light of these accounts that the Japanese, emboldened by their previous successes, rated their enemy too lightly, and without any preponderance, and indeed with scarcely an equality of numbers, they attempted to take by assault a position naturally strong and fortified by all the art and resources of the military engineer. The battle did indeed prove the incomparable qualities of the Japanese soldier; but it did little to add to the reputation of Japanese generalship; while, on the other hand, it exhibited General Kuropatkin in a light infinitely more favorable than any in which he had previously appeared. If one of Kuropatkin's subordinates--General Orloff--had not blundered badly in carrying out the movements against Kuroki on the Russian left, it is probable that the battle might have resulted in a decisive defeat instead of in a nominal victory for the Japanese. That blunder--which cost Orloff his command--enabled Kuroki to hold his own at a most critical juncture, and so to obviate the dangerous possibilities which the situation had developed. It was the peril of Kuroki that compelled Oku and Nodzu, who faced the centre and right wing of the Russian position, to press on their assaults with redoubled fury, even after they had been fighting for five days and losing thousands of men without making appreciable headway. In twenty-four hours Oku made three grand assaults upon the entrenched hills before him; and, when the last had been beaten back with awful loss, the laconic order came from headquarters: "Reinforce and attack again at dawn". Such a demand upon the endurance and _morale_ of troops is well-nigh unexampled; and that the Japanese soldier responded to it speaks volumes for his qualities as a fighting man. His persistence prevailed in the end, and the Russian line was forced. But even then the retreat was slow and stubborn. While a rear guard held the Japanese at bay, all the guns and wounded were safely withdrawn, and when at last the Japanese came into possession of Liao-yang, it was to find the fruits of their dearly-bought victory snatched from them, and their own forces too exhausted to follow victory up. The casualties in this awful conflict were enough "to stagger humanity", if one may use Mr. Kruger's famous phrase. The Japanese losses cannot have been less than 40,000, and those of the Russians were perhaps half as many; while the expenditure of ammunition on both sides was terrific. More than a thousand guns belched forth their deadly missiles continuously for nearly a week, and all eye-witnesses agree that never before has such tremendous artillery fire been witnessed. Well might it be necessary for both armies to rest after such a titanic struggle, and to devote more than a month to reforming and reinforcing the shattered ranks and to refilling their ammunition trains. The main result of the battle was to drive the grand army of the Czar one step further back from the beleaguered fortress still counting so confidently on and waiting so anxiously for relief. But, as the event showed the contest had been too indecisive to destroy finally the Russian hope of a victorious march southwards; and to that extent the Japanese might congratulate themselves. As long as the fatal fascination of Port Arthur was felt by Russian strategy, the Japanese generals could count on an invaluable ally; and very soon that ally was to come to their assistance again in a manner which their best hopes could not have conjectured. [Sidenote: The Grim Reality of War] In order to realize the spectacle that that awful battlefield presented, one has only to read the vivid narrative of the London _Times'_ correspondent who was attached to General Oku's army. This is how he describes the earlier and abortive attempts of Oku's devoted troops to penetrate the Russian centre:-- [Illustration: AFTER SEVEN MONTHS. The time was now ripe for the simultaneous advance of the three Japanese armies, and while Oku and Nodzu attacked the Russians at Anshanchan, and forced them to retire, Kuroki drove the Russians out of Anping. The great battle of Liaoyang began on August 29, and continued until September 1, when Kuroki, having crossed the Taitse-Ho, threatened the Russian left flank, and forced them to retreat. On September 6 the Japanese occupied the Yentai Mines. The army besieging Port Arthur captured the Laotishan and Sushiyen Hills on August 15, and on the 28th took Palungshan. The shaded portion shows the Japanese advance.] "In spite of the failure of this first attack, another was ordered to begin at two on the following morning (August 30th). The cold grey morning witnessed another scene of slaughter on the Russian right as the defenders again hurled the attack back. The Japanese attacked with valor and deserved success, but the enfilading fire on every salient swept each rush away before the men could even lay hands on the entanglements. But the 5th Division had more success against the Russian left. The position here was composed of a brush-covered hogsback, sloping to the east, defended by a triple line of trenches with a glacis protected by a 10 foot entanglement covering a honeycomb of pits containing spikes at the bottom. In the semi-darkness of the morning the 41st Regiment carried this underfeature after losing seventy-five of the one hundred pioneers who hacked their way through the entanglement with axes. The men, rushing through the gap, overpowered the sentries in the trenches before the supports, sleeping in splinter proofs behind, could reinforce them. But daybreak brought a tragedy of the kind which is so common in modern war. Shell fire, believed to be from Japanese guns, drove this gallant storming party from its hold, filling the Russian trenches with Japanese dead. But now for the fighting on the 31st. The weather was now fine, and the energy of this southern attack all the morning was concentrated in an artillery fire on the bushy hill that had been won and lost. At 10 o'clock we could see the 5th Division moving up against the Russian left. There is a moment of intense excitement while the summit of the Russian position is like a miniature Mount Pelée in eruption owing to the bursting of dozens of Shimoshi shells. The head of the assault is in the gap in the entanglement. The artillery is supporting the assault. Three or four ground mines explode in the midst of the leading assaulting groups. Then as the smoke clears the black-coated Russians are seen leaving the position. In a moment the Japanese are in, and the whole of the lines in support on the crest are firing down the slope into the retreating Russians. But one swallow does not make a summer. Although the underfeature of the bushy hill was carried, the rest of the assault failed miserably. No Japanese could live within 500 yards of the bastion hill, and though the Japanese came out of the corn until the groups were so numerous that I can liken them only to swarming bees, it was only to be swept backwards into cover again, leaving behind the heavy price of their valor." [Illustration: CAPTURE OF THE "RESHITELNI" AT CHIFU.] CHAPTER XI. The Opposing Armies in Manchuria--The Russian Advance--Reinforcements for Both Sides--Battle of the Sha-ho--Two Hundred Hours of Carnage--Awful List of Casualties--Threat and Counterthreat--The Veil Lifted from Port Arthur--Capture of Forts--Devices of the Besiegers--The Undaunted Stoessel--The Gallant Podgorsky--World-Wide Admiration--Uncertain News. [Sidenote: The Opposing Armies in Manchuria] The great battle of Liao-yang was fought in the last week of August and the first week of September; and for nearly five weeks after that tremendous struggle the opposing armies remained inactive, or rather gathered up their exhausted strength for the next desperate encounter. The Japanese had advanced as far as Yentai, a station about one-third of the distance--40 miles or so--that separates Liao-yang from Mukden. The position was valuable as giving the command of the Yentai coal mines--a most important acquisition to any general with a long line of railway communication to maintain. The Japanese entrenched themselves along a front of some 25 miles, stretching from Yentai on the railway to Pensihu, a village in the hilly country which lies north and south between the two rivers Taitse and Hun. There they settled down to replenishing the exhausted supplies, refilling the depleted ranks, and reorganizing the dislocated commands. Above all did they make speed to reconstruct the railway behind them, a work which had diligently been carried on _pari passu_ with the advance. Early in October through trains of the new 3 ft. 6 in. gauge were running from Dalny to Yentai, and thus the fighting-line was brought within an easy six days' journey of Japan. The Russians, on the other hand, in spite of the completion of the Circum-Baikal railway towards the end of September, were still from three to five times as distant from their prime base; for if the express time from Mukden to Moscow was sixteen days, the ordinary troop train's time was much nearer thirty days. In this all-important matter of rapidity of communication the Japanese possessed an advantage inherent to the situation and of the profoundest strategical influence. While they were recuperating thus at Yentai, the Russians were busy entrenching themselves behind the Hun-ho, the course of which from Mukden follows a line, roughly speaking, due east. At first it was asserted by those in the confidence of the Russian General Staff, that no determined stand would be made at the Hun-ho, and that Kuropatkin would only hold the enemy there until the defences at Tieling were completed. But as the days passed, and the Japanese showed no disposition to renew their advance, and as reinforcements continued to pour over the Siberian railway, counsels were modified. In the last week of September General Stackelberg, attending a banquet at Mukden, proposed the toast "To the March on Liao-yang"; and this startling suggestion of a new development in the Russian plan of campaign was speedily confirmed by a remarkable manifesto to his troops which General Kuropatkin issued on the 2nd of October. After the usual high-flown exordium, in which "the arrogant foe" was described as having suffered repeated repulse--a rather daring travesty of the facts--Kuropatkin explained that he had not thought the time ripe "to take advantage of these successes; but", he added, "the time of retreat was now at an end. Hitherto the enemy in operating has relied on his great forces and, disposing his armies so as to surround us, has chosen as he deemed fit his time for attack; but now the moment to go and meet the enemy, for which the whole army has been longing, has come, and the time has arrived for us to compel the Japanese to do our will, for the forces of the Manchurian army are strong enough to begin the forward movement. Bear in mind the importance of victory to Russia, and, above all, remember how necessary victory is the more speedily to relieve our brothers at Port Arthur, who for seven months have heroically maintained the defence of the fortress entrusted to their care." [Sidenote: The Russian Advance] The world was naturally startled by such a pronouncement--so much easier to explain than to justify; but the Russians and their friends in France were overjoyed, believing that the time of their tribulation was at last over. The Muscovite nature has during this war shown an unrivalled capacity for self-deception; and not only the General Staff, but Kuropatkin himself seem to have persuaded themselves that the enemy had been unable to get over the shock of Liao-yang. The perfectly natural delay of the Japanese in advancing was attributed to the discouragement caused by the enormous losses sustained in the last battle and to inability to make these losses good. There were other influences at work, as Kuropatkin's address shows. "The importance of victory to Russia", and the necessity of relieving "our brothers in Port Arthur", were circumstances that evidently dominated Russian counsels; and in Kuropatkin's mind there was probably another consideration of a personal nature. After Liao-yang the Czar had ordered the formation of a Second Manchurian Army under a separate command, on the ground that the active direction in the field of such enormous forces as these two armies would represent would be beyond the capacity of any one man. General Gripenberg, a tried old soldier, was appointed to command the Second Army, and there was talk of sending out a Grand Duke to take the supreme direction of the campaign. This would have meant in degree the suppression of General Kuropatkin, and that capable soldier may well have looked with dissatisfaction on such a reward for his signal services. He may have argued with himself that if he could only achieve a decisive victory at this moment his prestige would be restored and his paramountcy assured; and, according to the information which had reached him, that victory was within his grasp. But, unfortunately, that information was wholly erroneous. Far from being dispirited and exhausted, the Japanese forces were on the very point of advancing to the attack again when Kuropatkin formed his momentous resolution and issued orders for "the march to Liao-yang". If his movement was hailed with almost delirious enthusiasm in St. Petersburg, it was observed with hardly less satisfaction at Tokio, where it was at once recognized that the enemy were obligingly releasing Marshal Oyama from the necessity of a long march and another attack on fortified positions. [Sidenote: Reinforcements for Both Sides] By this time Kuropatkin's forces--thanks to the completion of the Circum-Baikal railway--had reached 250,000, with more than 800 guns. The Japanese strength, after reinforcements both from Japan and from the army investing Port Arthur, cannot have been much less; though at the close of the battle which was about to be fought Marshal Oyama asserted that at all points his victorious troops had been outnumbered. However that may be, the Japanese had the advantage of a prepared position, the key of which was in rugged mountainous country. Unlike the battle of Liao-yang, of which minute details have already been furnished, the battle of Yentai, as it was first called, or of Sha-ho, as it came to be known afterwards, can only be followed in its broad outline, mainly because the maps available are utterly inadequate. The place-names which mark the direction of the operations in one official report rarely agree with those in the other official report, and can only be vaguely identified. But a rough sketch-map is at least sufficient to give the general bearings of the operations. The Japanese front extended in a horseshoe formation from Yentai, on the railway, to Pensihu, on the Taitse River, with Oku on the left, Nodzu in the centre, and Kuroki on the right. The plan of Kuropatkin--a plan which in the light of after events we know to have been beyond the possibility of achievement--was to attack the right wing of the Japanese army under Kuroki, and roll it back upon Liao-yang, while the Japanese left and centre were held in front; then to shut up Oyama and his troops in Liao-yang, much as Sir George White was shut up in Ladysmith, while a rapid march southwards was made to the relief of Port Arthur. [Sidenote: Battle of the Sha-ho] On the 5th October the Russian advance began on both sides of the railway from Mukden, and from Fushan against the Japanese right. The flank movement, on the success of which all Kuropatkin's schemes were based, was entrusted to Stackelberg and Rennenkampf--Stackelberg attacking from the north, and Rennenkampf with his Cossacks, working round from the northeast. On Sunday, the 9th October, the first contact between the opposing armies was made, and Stackelberg--much to his own surprise--was able to occupy Bentsiaputse, a place north of the Yentai coalmines, commanding the main roads to Fushan, Mukden, and Liao-yang. It had been expected that the Japanese would make a desperate stand here, but they retreated after offering only a feeble resistance. Meanwhile, Rennenkampf fiercely assailed Kuroki's extreme right at Pensihu, while a force of Cossacks some 3,000 strong daringly crossed the Taitse River and severed Kuroki's communications in the rear. Up to this moment everything had seemed to go well with the Russian plan of attack. Several important positions east of Pensihu were taken by assault, and Kuroki's situation seemed critical for the moment. But Marshal Oyama appears never to have doubted the ability of his well-tried lieutenant to hold his own, and no sooner had the whole scheme of his enemy been developed than he decided to counter it with a vigorous offensive. Kuroki was reinforced on the 10th, while a force of cavalry detached to operate against the Cossacks south of the Taitse-ho succeeded in driving the enemy off and in restoring the interrupted communications. As soon as the reinforcements reached Kuroki at Pensihu he put the possibility of his being "rolled up" beyond all doubt by fiercely assailing Stackelberg and recapturing the positions which had temporarily fallen into Russian hands. Thereafter he remained completely master of the situation, and the desperate but futile assaults which he sustained in the next few days only resulted in a tremendous casualty list for the enemy--a list totalling at least 20,000. The decisive repulse of the Russian flanking movement involved the frustration of the whole of Kuropatkin's plans in advancing from the Hun-ho. But the battle had only just begun yet, for the Russian right and centre, which had begun their southward march with such confidence, now found their _role_ changed from attack to defence; and instead of the Japanese being, according to program, forced back upon Liao-yang, it became a question whether the Russians would be able to make good their retreat on Mukden. General Oku, advancing along the railway to the west, after two days' hard fighting drove back Kuropatkin's right to the line of the Shi-li-ho; while General Nodzu on the east of the railway was equally successful, and signalized his victory by a considerable capture of guns. Oyama's object now was to drive his enemy eastwards from the railway and back upon the Hun-ho, when it would be impossible for him to escape disaster. For some days this tremendous issue hung in the balance, and the Japanese forces were within an ace of accomplishing their purpose. But thanks to the dogged tenacity of the Russian troops, and thanks still more to the terribly wasting and exhausting effect of a week's continuous fighting, the impetus of the Japanese attack was not quite sufficient to complete the promised triumph; and at last the two great armies came to a standstill some ten miles south of Mukden, incapable of further action. [Sidenote: Two Hundred Hours of Carnage] From the 9th October to the 17th the relentless struggle raged along this wide front of more than 20 miles. Day and night the devoted troops on either side flung themselves with reckless bravery on the positions of their foes; while from nearly 2,000 guns an incessant storm of shrapnel and shell burst over the contested ground. Liao-yang had been terrible enough; but from all accounts the artillery duel at the battle of Sha-ho even eclipsed the terrific incidents of the earlier engagements. On the 13th the Russian retreat became general, and Oku, capturing twenty-five Russian guns, succeeded in driving the troops opposed to him back from the line of the Shi-li-ho to the Sha-ho, where behind defences which the forethought of Kuropatkin had provided, they prepared to make their last desperate stand. The forces before Kuroki had retreated towards Fushan in a northeasterly direction; and those before Nodzu in the centre, after suffering losses almost as heavy as Stackelberg's columns had sustained, fell back in something approaching to disorder on the line of the Sha-ho. The position of Kuropatkin's army was now exceedingly critical, and it was not without cause that he issued a general order that the ground occupied must be held at all costs. It is evident that to make good the retreat Stackelberg's troops on the extreme east, which were far in advance of the rest of the Russian line, must be withdrawn first, and that the central army under Zarubaieff, which again was far in advance of the right wing, must be drawn back next; and that during these perilous operations General Bilderling, who commanded the Russian right resting behind the Sha-ho, must stand firm. By the skin of his teeth, almost, Bilderling just managed to hold his ground. On the 13th Oku's impetuous assault upon the Russian lines succeeded so far as to break the Russian centre. Had that advantage been maintained nothing could have saved the Russian army. But by a tremendous effort the last reserves were brought up and recaptured the ground that had been lost. For thirty-six hours the battle raged with varying fortune at this critical point; but the Russians held on, and these thirty-six priceless hours being gained, the Russian centre and left were saved. On the 14th, five days after the battle had begun, a deluge of rain fell--a deluge precipitated, as at Liao-yang, by the heavy and incessant firing--and the already sorely-tried troops of Oku found their further movements grievously impeded. For several days more, however, the contest on the Sha-ho raged with unabated fury. Again and again the Russians made fierce counter-attacks on the Japanese, sustaining terrible losses in consequence. One position--a dominant elevation on the south bank of the Sha-ho, known as Lonely-Tree Hill--was the scene of long-continued and desperate fighting, in which both armies alternately captured and were driven from the vantage ground. It was here that the one substantial success of the Russian arms was achieved in the capture of twelve Japanese guns. During Sunday, the 16th of October the Russians had delivered no less than seven counter-attacks on Oku's troops, and all of them had been beaten back with loss. In these engagements a conspicuous part had been played by a force under Brigadier-General Yamada, made up of troops from Nodzu's and Oku's commands, which succeeded in penetrating the Russian line and in capturing two guns. But in returning to camp after this exploit, Yamada's force had ventured too far and was enveloped by a Russian division, and was only able to win through by the sacrifice of its guns, after a fierce hand-to-hand encounter in which the casualties were nearly 1,000. [Illustration: JAPANESE OUTPOSTS RELIEVING GUARD NEAR THE SHA-HO.] Slowly, reluctantly, after fitful recrudescences, the great battle wore itself out, and by the 20th October the two armies were left facing each other on either side of the Sha-ho--a line 15 miles north of that which the Japanese had occupied before the engagement began. The net result, therefore, was a decided gain of ground for the Japanese, and the infliction of losses greater than had been sustained in any previous battle on the Russian army. Telegraphing to Tokio on the 15th, Marshal Oyama thus summed up the results of the fighting as far as it had gone--a summary which further events did not alter:-- "As a sequel to a fight lasting continuously for five days, we have driven back the superior forces of the enemy at every point, pursuing him and forcing him to the south bank of the Hun. We have inflicted heavy losses, and captured over thirty guns and hundreds of prisoners. We have defeated his plans and converted an offensive operation into a radical failure." [Sidenote: Awful List of Casualties] "Radical failure" in war means far more than defeated plans. It carries with it an awful and immediate penalty levied in killed and wounded, and when the tale of losses came to be counted it was found to exceed even the most pessimistic anticipations. The Russian dead left on the field alone numbered no less than 13,333; and as the wounded, at the lowest estimate, cannot have been less than four to one, it is apparent that the total casualties suffered by General Kuropatkin's troops must have been between 60,000 and 70,000. An index to the severity of the fighting is afforded by an analysis of these returns, which shows that more than 5,000 Russian dead were found before both Oku's army and Kuroki's. Even the Russian General Staff, which has shown a decided tendency to minimize losses, did not venture to place those sustained at Sha-ho at less than 45,000 rank and file and 800 officers. The total Japanese losses, on the other hand, though heavy, were but a fraction of their foe's. Oyama placing them at 15,879. But the loss in life was not the only disastrous result of the battle for the army of the Czar. The Japanese captured 709 prisoners and 45 guns, with large quantities of arms and ammunition; and against these captures are to be set the twelve guns lost at Lonely-Tree Hill, rechristened by the Russians Putiloff Hill in honor of the officer who achieved the success, and who was immediately decorated by the Czar. In one sense the battle of the Sha-ho may be regarded as indecisive, in that it left the two contending armies again at a deadlock. At Liao-yang the strategy of both generals had failed, and in a less degree the same result was reached at Sha-ho; for Oyama's initial success could not be followed up to its legitimate and triumphant conclusion. But, on the other hand, Kuropatkin's effort to march to Liao-yang and make a diversion in favor of Port Arthur had signally failed; and the army which he had ostentatiously declared to be strong enough to take the offensive and had been hurled back by "the arrogant foe," who were at last to be "compelled to do the Russian will." It was in that circumstance that the real measure of the Japanese victory was to be found--that after eight months of war the armies of the Czar were still unequal to the task committed to them. Had Kuropatkin been even in a measure successful in this, his first great offensive movement, the moral effect could not have failed to be incalculable. As it was, it inflicted one more discouragement on troops that had experienced nothing but retreats and reverses from the opening of the campaign. The temper in which the Japanese accepted the new laurels which their army had won was eminently characteristic of a nation which has, in spite of all temptations to vainglory and exultation, comforted itself with perfect sobriety and self-restraint. The Mikado issued a rescript to his people, the terms of which are worth giving, if only for the contrast which they offer to some of the addresses issued from St. Petersburg and the headquarters of Alexeieff:-- "Since the outbreak of the war our army and our navy have demonstrated their bravery and loyalty, while both officials and people have acted in unison to support the cause. So far, success has attended our cause, but, the ultimate accomplishment being yet far distant, it is necessary to be patient and steadfast in the pursuance of our action, and thus aim at the final accomplishment of our purpose." [Sidenote: Threat and Counterthreat] Another and even more striking testimony to the inflexible determination of the Japanese people was supplied by the Army rescript issued at the end of September in connection with the expansion of the Japanese military system. The Government of the Czar had demonstrated its intention to prosecute the war unflinchingly by the creation of a second Manchurian Army. Japan's answer to this menace was to extend the period of service with the colors in the Japanese army from nine to fourteen years, by which act the available reserves for the army in Manchuria were increased at a stroke by nearly half a million men. But though Japan could answer promptly and adequately the steps which her foe had taken to strengthen his armies in the field, it was not so easy to recompense herself for the elimination of a source of weakness in her enemy's counsels. Admiral Alexeieff, whose fatal influence had been as valuable as several battleships and army corps to the Japanese, was finally recalled to St. Petersburg at the end of October. On the 26th of that month the Viceroy issued an address to the troops, announcing, in his usually inflated style, that on his own request he had been relieved of the duties of Commander-in-Chief, while being retained in the office of Viceroy and assured of the continuance of the Imperial confidence and favor. In less than a week from the issue of that manifesto, it was announced that Alexeieff and his staff were on the way to St. Petersburg by express train, and that there was no probability of their return, while Kuropatkin was left in supreme command. [Sidenote: The Veil Lifted from Port Arthur] No sooner had the echoes of the great battle of the Sha-ho died down than the attention of the world was turned again to Port Arthur, where the long and desperate siege was continuing with undiminished determination on the part of the attack and invincible heroism on the part of the defence. For months together little authentic news of the progress of events had been allowed to leak out; but suddenly, in the beginning of November, the Japanese censor removed his restrictions, and a vivid and circumstantial narrative of the operations was allowed to come through. By the end of June the Japanese forces of investment had occupied a line across the Kwang-tung Peninsula running from Ingentsi Bay, on the north, southeastwards to a point on the south coast-line some ten miles east of Dalny. After another month's diligent assault they had advanced the line nearly five miles--from Vostikorablei Bay on the north to Takhe Bay on the south. Another advance in the beginning of August brought the extreme right of their line down to Louisa Bay on the west, and roughly round in a semicircle to Takhe Bay, confronting the main line of the formidable Russian defences. The great assault of the 28th August was, on the whole, unsuccessful, and achieved nothing on the east. But on the west the line of investment was drawn still further south until it rested on Pigeon Bay. It is now necessary to understand more exactly the nature of the task with which the Japanese army of investment was confronted. Port Arthur lies in a sort of amphitheatre formed by ranges of hills varying in height from 1,300 feet to 1,500 feet. These hills sweep round from Golden Hill--the promontory which on the east commands the entrance to the harbor--northwards for a distance of nearly three miles. Then, where the railway line and road pass through them, they turn westwards and southwards, extending down the toe of the Kwang-tung promontory to a point parallel with the base of the Tiger's Tail; while further south still is the formidable Liao-tie-shan range, some 1,500 feet high. On all these hills the Russians had constructed huge fortifications strengthened with every device which the military engineer's art could suggest, and armed with the most powerful artillery. It is true that some of the correspondents who paid hurried visits to the great naval fortress before the actual outbreak of hostilities were inclined to belittle the strength of the defences. Thus Mr. Bennet Burleigh, of the London _Telegraph_, in a most interesting account expressed his belief that the Russian stronghold was over-fortified, and that it would be possible for those who captured outlying defence to command the inner forts. On the other hand, it must be remembered that the most skilful engineers in the world had been employed by the Russians in the construction of the forts, and the fact that such a magnificent and substantial resistance was offered to ten times the number of soldiers as cleared out the Chinese in a few days, proves that the soundest military principles were adhered to. The main positions were defended by advanced works surrounded by deep moats, in which were built bombproof defences, roofed with steel plates, and by fanfasses, or mines filled with huge stones, which could be exploded by the pressure of an electric button. The approaches were rendered almost inaccessible by barbed-wire entanglements, pits planted with sharpened stakes, and by transverse works and trenches which commanded with an enfilading fire every possible line of advance. The broad scheme of the fortifications may be easily grasped. Fronting Takhe Bay on the east is the Petushan group of forts, with the Keekwan-Urlong forts commanding the approaches from the north and the northeast, and preventing the Petushan forts from being taken in reverse. West of these forts and on the other side of the parade-ground and railway are the Antszshan and the Etseshan forts, which prevent any attack from the northwest, while a chain of forts from Antszshan to Sunghslwo, running southeastwards down to the inner harbor, command the parade-ground and railway line. Another line of forts stretches due south from Etseshan to White Wolf Hill on the west side of the west port, while yet another series of heavy fortifications surmounts the high ground along the Tiger's Tail. Well might the Russians boast that their fortress was impregnable, for if any place of arms could be justly so described, Nature and military ingenuity had combined to earn that title for Port Arthur. At the outset of the investment, Port Arthur's garrison numbered, all told, some 35,000 men. It was made up of the 3rd, 4th and 7th East Siberian Rifle Brigades, with part of the 6th, and with the East Siberian Rifle Artillery Division, and, of course, with the crews of all the men-o'-war lying imprisoned in the harbor. The numbers were none too great to man adequately the great chain of works behind which Port Arthur's security lay; but the troops were of the best quality, and they had the invaluable inspiration of such a leader as General Stoessel, with such a capable and gallant lieutenant as General Fock. Stoessel, the hero of the Russian army in the present war, is descended from an old military family. His grandfather was a general in the Swedish army, who afterwards settled in Russia. Stoessel himself, who was born in 1848, entered the Russian army as a cadet at the age of ten, and received his commission eight years later, at the same time, curiously enough, as Kuropatkin. He served with distinction in the Russo-Turkish War, and afterwards held important commands in Siberia, while since 1899 he had been stationed at Port Arthur. To the assault and investment of the fortress, the Japanese, under Nogi, brought up at first 60,000 men, and, as the operations advanced, large reinforcements which not only made good the enormous losses sustained, but swelled the fighting strength to nearly 100,000 men. This number fluctuated to some extent, for at least two divisions were drawn off from the siege to reinforce Oyama at the battle of the Sha-ho; but at no time can the total forces before Port Arthur have been less than 60,000, and then superiority in numbers to the defence gradually increased until from a proportion of two to one, it had reached the proportion of six or seven to one. This growing disparity, of course, was due to the fact that while the Japanese could replenish their exhausted ranks, the Russian garrison could not fill the gaps caused by wounds and sickness; while a further reduction of at least 5,000 men in the forces at Stoessel's command was made by the naval sortie on August 10th. That feat, of course, deprived Port Arthur of the services of the crews of all the vessels that escaped to neutral ports. [Illustration: JAPANESE SCALING FORT AT PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: Capture of Forts] In the great assault of the 19th-26th August the Japanese lost 14,000 men, and succeeded only in capturing the Banjushan fort, which is east of the Urlungshan forts. General Nogi then settled down to steady siege operations, drawing his parallels nearer and nearer to the Russian main position, and capturing the all-important Kuropatkin fort early in September. This fort, which stands on Division Hill half-way between Wolf Hill and the harbor, not only commanded the parade-ground, but gave the Japanese the possession of the waterworks from which the garrison drew the main water supply. Up to this moment General Nogi's heaviest guns had been 4.7 and 6in. pieces of the naval type, and they had been quite unequal to the heavy guns of the position mounted in the Russian works. But now heavy siege guns and 11in. howitzers arrived from Japan, and immediately their effect began to make itself felt, so that by the 19th September another assault was resolved on. This was directed against three points of the ring of defensive works--against the metre-hill forts on the west, and (the outworks, as it were of the great Etseshan and Antszshan forts) against the advanced works of Urlungshan on the northeast, and against the lunettes in the Shuishi Valley which connects the Antszshan and the Urlungshan forts. At this last point some of the fiercest fighting of the whole siege took place. The Shuishi Valley was defended by a series of strong lunettes connected by advance works, within fifty yards of which the Japanese had advanced their parallels. On the evening of the 19th September four desperate assaults were delivered against the westernmost lunette. All, however, were beaten back. At dawn the assault was renewed with greater strength, and the western lunette was carried, mainly by the employment of dynamite grenades. The Russian garrison were driven out of the trenches, losing three quick-firers, four machine guns, and two mortars, but inflicting on the victors losses amounting to over 400 killed and wounded. At the same time a determined assault was made on 203 Metre Hill and the adjoining ridge by three regiments of the right division. The assaulting parties reached the dead ground beneath the ridge, but there they were compelled to remain during the night. At dawn on the 20th a terrific bombardment on the position began and continued till evening; and when the night had fallen the Japanese rushed the trenches on the eastern extremity of the crest line after a fierce hand-to-hand fight in which not only bayonets but even stones were used. But only part of the work had been won. The fort on the southwestern slopes of the ridges was still untaken, and though a small party of the besiegers penetrated the defences here, they were driven out again next day, and four more assaults delivered during the next two days proved equally unavailing though terribly costly in life--the casualty list at this point alone amounting to 2,000. The defences of this advance fort on 203 Metre Hill were typical of the obstacles which the Japanese had to overcome in the prosecution of their assaults. The bomb-proofs connecting the network of trenches which seared the slopes of the hill were made of steel plates covered with earth, and a triple row of wire entanglements made the ground in front of the trenches impassable. In the operations from the 19th to the 26th September the Japanese lost more than 4,000 killed and wounded. In the assault at the same time on the advanced works of Urlungshan the parallels of the Japanese had been carried to within fifty yards of the defences, but the assault still proved a costly business. Again and again the assaulting rushes were swept back by rifle and machine-gun fire; but the indomitable spirit of the Mikado's troops at length prevailed, and the redoubt was carried at the point of the bayonet. The position thus gained in front of Urlungshan enabled the Japanese to mount their heavy howitzers in such a way as to bombard not only the main forts but the harbor with great effect; and in the course of a few days several of the warships lying at anchor were severely damaged by the high-angle fire. By hard fighting and diligent sapping the investing army now continued to make steady progress against the Urlungshan forts which lie just east of the road and railway and command their approach to Port Arthur. On the 10th October the attack managed to establish itself on the crest of the East Urlungshan fort, and on the 16th the entrenched hill between Urlungshan and Banjushan, the latter of which was already in Japanese hands, was taken by storm. On the 25th October the glacis of East Urlungshan was stormed and held in spite of repeated counter-attacks on the part of the Russians. In front of these forts on the northeastern side the fiercest fighting continued all through the latter part of October and the early part of November, the general result being that the Japanese saps were brought within less than 300 yards of the main positions while the fire from the howitzers finally silenced the great forts of Urlungshan and Shunshusan. But these successes, though considerable, were insufficient to make a really serious breach in the main lines of the defence, as long as the great forts on the west--Antszshan and Etseshan--held out, and forthwith the Japanese attack was diverted to the latter of those two strongholds. Meanwhile, the heavy and incessant fire directed on the harbor and the town had been most destructive. The naval repairing works had to be abandoned, and both the old and the new Chinese towns were rendered uninhabitable where their buildings were not razed to the ground or consumed by the fires started by the bursting shells. [Sidenote: Devices of the Besiegers] For the first time in history a fortress constructed according to the latest principles of military science, and defended by modern long-range artillery, was being besieged; and like the old walled cities of the 17th and 18th centuries, its defences could only be overcome by sap and mine and parallel. So much the assailants had learnt to their cost in their earlier and futile attempts at taking the place by storm. The exigencies of these operations led to the adoption of many ingenious devices by the forces on both sides--such, for instance, as a steel bullet-proof shield to protect the pioneer engaged in cutting wire entanglements; and the deadly grenade charged with dynamite, flung into the enemy's trenches by the hand or by means of wooden mortars bound with bamboo. At first the Japanese had chosen the night time for their assaults, but this plan had to be abandoned owing to the effective employment by the Russians of searchlights and star shells, the former having the effect not only of exposing the assaulting troops to the fire of the defenders, but blinding them in their advance on their objective. Throughout the siege the defenders had shown not only indomitable courage, but inexhaustible resource, and in spite of all the discouragement which the steady and inexorable advance of the Japanese might have been supposed to inflict, they continued equal to every demand on their fortitude. From time to time supplies reached them by means of blockade-runners, but this was but a precarious and inadequate means of replenishing the stores on which such a long and severe strain had been made. And yet, in spite of all rumors to the effect that ammunition was running short, the great guns continued to hurl their defiance at the Japanese artillery, and never in any single instance was the defence weakened by a failure of powder and shot. Though the Russians had failed to foresee many things which the course of the war has proved to have been fairly obvious, no one can pretend that they failed to equip their great stronghold in the Far East in a manner worthy of its claim to rank as "the Gibraltar of the East." After nearly six months of close investment and almost continuous bombardment, the fortress still held at bay an enemy who had proved himself, not only before the defences of Port Arthur, but in many a stricken field beside, to possess fighting qualities rarely equalled and never surpassed in the world's history of warfare--an enemy, too, who possessed every resource of military science, and who had studied in the best military schools. The fact that the Japanese, who had confidently expected to take Port Arthur before the end of the summer had not even by the middle of November made a decisive breach in its main defences, speaks volumes for the character of those defences. But even the strongest fortifications that human ingenuity can construct are only formidable when men of high spirit man them; and the chief credit for having baffled so long the most desperate efforts of Japanese skill and courage must ever be given to General Stoessel and the men who, serving under him, became infected with his spirit and inspired by his example. By the middle of November the Japanese lines had, indeed, been drawn very close round the devoted citadel of the Czar. They were in possession of the eastern ridge, and held practically at their mercy that great ring of fortified hills which shuts in Port Arthur from the Dalny side. They had cut the main water supply of the garrison, and they had possessed themselves of important ground to the north of the old town, and their siege guns were able to render the dockyards and the harbor untenable for ships of war. To the west the advance had been less signal, and their foothold on the great ridge which commands the fortress on the western side was at best slight and precarious; while not even the faintest impression had been made on the great chain of fortifications at Liau-tie-shan, in the extreme south corner of the peninsula. [Sidenote: The Undaunted Stoessel] Tremendous efforts had been made to achieve the capture of the place by the 3rd November, the birthday of the Mikado; but that auspicious day passed without the fall of Port Arthur seeming to be in any degree nearer, while General Stoessel continued to send cheerful and undaunted messages to his Imperial master whenever a boat succeeded in running the blockade of the Japanese fleet and in reaching Chifu. Through all these protracted and strenuous operations, the losses of the Japanese had been very severe; they cannot have been less than 40,000 men, and they may have been considerably more. The garrison had suffered less severely, but in the absence of reserves their losses were even more serious, and by the middle of November the total effective force was little more than 10,000 men. It will ever be a mystery how a force so utterly inferior to its enemy, defending, a wide perimeter of fortifications, every point of which was daily liable to fierce assault and bombardment, could for so many weeks endure the awful strain to which it was subjected. Yet the indomitable garrison was never quiescent or passive in its resistance. Besides repelling assault, it engaged in continual sorties and counter-attacks, and often, when driven from an essential position succeeded in recapturing it at the point of the bayonet. A remarkable instance of this offensive capacity was furnished in the course of the great assault from the 19th September to the 26th September. In operating from the north against the defences of the Shuishi Valley, which lies between Antszshan and Urlungshan, the Japanese, after their first success, pressed on against High Hill, a position of the most vital importance to the defence, as it permitted the principal forts on the west of the town to be taken in reverse. As any attempt to retake the hill must be a desperate enterprise, General Stoessel refused to issue an order for its recapture, but called for volunteers. The requisite number were at once forthcoming, and led by Lieutenant Podgorsky, they attacked the Japanese with grenades and drove them from the position which they had already begun to entrench. In his dispatch of the 23rd September, this is how General Stoessel reports the affair:-- [Sidenote: The Gallant Podgorsky] "The last assault on High Hill was repulsed to-day at 5 o'clock in the morning. The enemy had actually occupied some of the defences of the High Hill position and had placed machine-guns in them, which they directed against our troops. Lieutenant Podgorsky was dispatched to this part of the field by General Kondrachenko with a force of chasseurs and engineers, who under the direction of Colonel Irmann hurled grenades filled with pyroxiline into the works held by the Japanese. These exploded among the enemy, who fled in panic. Captain Sytcheff, of the 5th Regiment, pursued the flying foe with chasseurs. Colonel Irmann attributes the principal share in the work of compelling the enemy to withdraw entirely from High Hill to Lieutenant Podgorsky. The Japanese lost over 10,000 men. All our troops distinguished themselves. General Kondrachenko, Colonel Irmann, Captain Sytcheff, and Lieutenant Podgorsky won special distinction. The troops fought heroically, particularly the 5th Regiment. The whole garrison down to the last man is resolved to defend Russia's bulwark in the Far East to the last drop of blood." [Sidenote: World-wide Admiration] But even the greatest heroism cannot achieve the impossible; and in spite of Stoessel's persistent optimism, it became evident that his powers of resistance were daily diminishing. An attempt on the part of the Japanese General to induce the garrison to capitulate in spite of their leader, met with no response; but throughout the civilized world, whose sympathy and admiration had been deeply stirred by the heroic stand of Port Arthur's garrison, voices were lifted to urge that no more useless sacrifice of noble life should be permitted; and that the men who had done so much for the honor of the Czar should be spared at least the last mortal agony of the struggle with the inevitable. [Sidenote: Uncertain News] On the 15th, however, a Russian torpedo-boat bearing dispatches from Stoessel managed to elude the blockade and to reach Chifu, pursued by Japanese destroyers. The boat was warned that it must leave the neutral harbor within twenty-four hours or be disarmed, and rather than submit to either of these alternatives, the officer in command blew his vessel up. But his work had been done; and his dispatches containing the latest accounts of the position at Port Arthur reached St. Petersburg. Immediately afterwards the report arrived that General Kuropatkin had been empowered to treat for terms of capitulation for Port Arthur. But whether that was in fact the result of Stoessel's message, or whether the Czar's Government received from it encouragement in the belief that Port Arthur could hold out till the arrival of the Baltic Fleet, is a question which is still unanswered. [Illustration: THE REMNANT OF A REGIMENT--AFTER THE BATTLE OF THE SHA-HO.] CHAPTER XII. The North Sea Outrage--Seizures of Neutrals--The Case of the "Malacca"--The Baltic Fleet--Departure at Last--Russian Alarms--In the North Sea--Bringing Home the News--Russian Allegations--Naval Preparations--Supplementary Information--The Baltic Fleet Proceeds to Madagascar. [Sidenote: The North Sea Outrage] No sooner had the echoes of the terrific battle of the Sha-ho begun to subside than the attention of the civilized world, which had so long been concentrated on the vicissitudes of the Titanic struggle in the Far East, was suddenly focussed on a spot separated from the theatre of war by more than half the circumference of the globe, and on an incident fraught, as it seemed, with more direful and tremendous consequences even than the momentous rupture between Russia and Japan. On the 15th of October, Russia's Baltic Fleet--which for many months had been preparing as a reinforcement to the Pacific Squadron--at last left port on its voyage to the Far East; and within six days of its departure it had so effectually asserted itself as a factor in the naval situation that Europe, shocked and startled, woke up one morning to find itself hanging on the perilous brink of that Armageddon which has been the nightmare of statesmen for the last twenty years. In passing through the North Sea, the Russian fleet--for causes which have yet to be fully elicited--fired on a flotilla of British fishing-boats engaged in trawling on the Dogger Bank; killed and wounded several of the fishermen; sunk one of the trawlers, and more or less grievously injured others. When the news of this amazing outrage was published a storm of indignation and resentment swept over England such as has not been known for more than a generation; and feeling was embittered and intensified to a truly dangerous pitch, first by the callous indifference displayed by the perpetrators of the outrage, and next by the indisposition of the Russian Government to offer those immediate apologies and amends which alone could palliate so wanton a breach of the comity of nations. It seemed for the moment that Russia had deliberately designed to provoke England to hostilities, in the hope of redeeming her own desperate position by extending the area of the conflict and by dragging into it first the ally of Japan, and by consequence her own ally, France. The prospect, though almost too terrible to contemplate, did not for a moment quench the resolution of the people of England, where men of all parties were found standing shoulder to shoulder in the demand for ample reparation. What made the situation especially dangerous was that public patience had at last been well-nigh exhausted by the repeated provocations of Russia--provocations which the North Sea outrage was only the crown and culmination. To understand this fact, it is necessary to go back a little. [Sidenote: Seizures of Neutrals] When Russia found that she could not hope successfully to contest the supremacy of the sea with Japan, she turned her attention to the subsidiary enterprise of commerce-raiding. In this task the Vladivostock Squadron were particularly active, and, unsated by the destruction of such Japanese transports and trading vessels as they encountered, seized or sunk many vessels flying neutral flags. On the 16th of June the Vladivostock cruisers seized the _Allanton_, a British steamer, carrying coal from Hokkaido Island to Singapore. There was nothing contraband in the cargo or destination of this vessel, as the subsequent decision of the St. Petersburg Prize Court proved, yet the _Allanton_ was confiscated, and her crew held prisoners at Vladivostock for months. The real reason for this high-handed conduct was that the _Allanton_ had previously carried a cargo of coal from Cardiff to Japan--but she had been chartered for that voyage before the outbreak of war. On the 16th of July the Indo-China Steam Navigation Company's steamer, the _Hispang_, was wantonly sunk in Pigeon Bay by a Russian torpedo-boat. The _Hispang_ was engaged in a lawful trade; there was no suggestion that she carried contraband; and indeed no examination of her cargo was even attempted. She was flying the British flag, and she stopped directly she was ordered to do so. But in spite of these facts, a Russian torpedo-boat came straight out to her and sunk her--the captain, officers, and passengers being rescued with difficulty. It was afterwards confessed by the Russian officer that did this deed that his orders were given under the impression that the _Hispang_ was the steamer _Haimum_, which was being employed by the London _Times_' correspondent. On the 26th of July an equally gross outrage was perpetrated by the Vladivostock Squadron, who, besides unjustifiably seizing the _Chalcas_, deliberately sunk on the 23rd of July the British steamer _Knight Commander_. This vessel was carrying rails for Japan; and even if such a cargo could be regarded as contraband, there was no excuse for sinking the vessel. Such an act, in the words of Mr. Balfour and Lord Lansdowne, constituted "a grave breach of international law"; and it was aggravated by the circumstances in which it was committed. The captain and crew were ordered to get clear of the vessel in ten minutes, and such was the haste with which they were compelled to leave the boats in order to save their lives, that nearly all the personal effects had to be sacrificed. The growing irritation with these acts was brought to a head in England by the famous case of the _Malacca_--a P. and O. mail steamship which was seized by Russian cruisers in the Red Sea on the 19th July. At the beginning of June two vessels of the Russian Volunteer Fleet in the Black Sea--the _Petersburg_ and the _Smolensk_--were "designated for Government service outside the Black Sea." Even their commanders were kept in the dark as to their destination and the nature of the service that they were to perform. The two vessels, which, as warships, would not by international treaty have been able to leave the Black Sea, passed through the Dardanelles under the commercial flag, and then steered straight to the Suez Canal, where the non-belligerent character was still maintained. But it seems that on reaching Constantinople the commanders had been informed that their ships had been raised to the rank of second-class cruisers in the Russian fleet; and no sooner had the Red Sea been reached than the _Petersburg_ and the _Smolensk_ put off their commercial disguise and put on the character of ships of war. They flew the naval flag, and mounted the armament of 5in. quick-firers, which had been up to that moment securely stowed away. The Government service for which they had been designated was that of searching for contraband on neutral vessels, and the _soi-disant_ cruisers lost no time in demonstrating their zeal. All this time, by the way, the Russian Admiralty was strenuously denying that the _Petersburg_ and the _Smolensk_ had left the Black Sea at all. On the 15th July the commerce-raiders began operations, rather tactlessly, by stopping and seizing the German mail steamer, _Prinz Heinrich_, and by confiscating the Japanese mails. The indignation and astonishment of the German public had only begun to make itself heard, when it was distracted by the intelligence that the P. and O. steamer _Malacca_ had also been stopped, and had been actually brought back to Suez in charge of a Russian prize crew. The vessel, flying the Russian flag, reached Suez on the 19th July, and on the 20th the English Government, moved thereto by the clamor which began to be heard both in Parliament and in the press, addressed to the Government of the Czar a strongly-worded protest against the seizure and a demand that the _Malacca_ should be instantly released. The demand was based on the irregular position of the _Petersburg_--a vessel which, if a ship of war, ought not to have passed the Dardanelles, and which, if not a ship of war, had no right to stop and search neutral vessels. This contention was unanswerable; for it is evident that if a ship could be permitted to change its character at will, it could perform all the functions of a ship of war and still enjoy all the privileges of a non-belligerent at neutral ports. [Sidenote: Case of the "Malacca"] Incidentally it was pointed out in Lord Lansdowne's dispatch that the ammunition found on board the _Malacca_ belonged to the British Government, and was intended for the China Squadron. It subsequently came to light that the seizure of the _Malacca_ was no mere accident; but that the vessel had been waited for by the Russian cruisers acting on secret information from Russian agents at Antwerp. For several days no reply was vouchsafed by the Russian Government, and feeling in this country rose to such a height that the situation became dangerous. While the whole British nation was chafing under the indignity and affront, the _Malacca_ was being navigated by her prize crew, with almost deliberate insolence, through the Suez Canal on the way to the Baltic port of Libau. A British liner, in the eyes of the whole world, was made an ignominious captive, and, like a pickpocket in the clutch of a police-constable, was dragged away to judgment. The humiliation of the situation was aggravated by the fact that at Suez--a port of the English Protectorate of Egypt--the Russian officer in charge of the _Malacca_ demanded to be supplied with coal, water, and provisions. In spite of the strong representations which had been made by the British Government, nothing was done at St. Petersburg to alleviate the situation. The _Malacca_ reached Suez on the 19th of July and Port Said on the 20th, and on the 21st she sailed unconcernedly for her destination, which was ostentatiously announced to be Libau. Then at last the Russian Government broke the silence. Having inflicted the greatest possible humiliation on this country, they were pleased to accept the assurances of the British Government that the prize had no contraband on board, and to consent that the _Malacca_ should not be brought before a Prize Court. A claim for damages for detention was to be admitted, and the vessel was to be handed over to the British authorities at "some Mediterranean port," after formal examination in the presence of the British Consul. On the 27th July the terms of this agreement--so extravagantly indulgent to Russia--were carried out, and the incident of the _Malacca_ closed; but there remained still unsettled the fundamental question of the status of the volunteer cruisers, _Smolensk_ and _Petersburg_. Meanwhile, for the German liner _Scandia_, which had been seized on the 23rd July, very different treatment was reserved--she was released on the following day. The only public recognition of the protests of the British Government which was given by the Government of the Czar was the publication on the 3rd August of an official communication declaring that "the special commission" of the cruisers _Petersburg_ and _Smolensk_ had "expired;" and these vessels promptly disappeared from the Red Sea. But their mischievous career was not yet at an end. Although the Russian Government had specifically promised that they should not be employed in searching neutral shipping any longer, the world was startled at the end of August to learn that the British steamer _Comedian_ had been stopped 80 miles from East London and 10 miles only from the coast of British territory by a mysterious Russian cruiser. The unpleasant impression in England was deepened when it was discovered that this strange cruiser was no other than the _Smolensk_ of Red Sea fame. Well might Mr. Balfour, who received at this moment a deputation of British shipowners, declare that the incident had produced "a painful impression" in the minds of the English Government. Representations to the Russian Government produced the characteristic excuse that the messages sent to the _Smolensk_ and _Petersburg_ had not reached their destination. There is, indeed, good reason to believe that the Russian Admiralty, which had done its best to thwart the Russian Foreign Office, had taken particularly good care that the messages should be delayed until the _Petersburg_ and _Smolensk_ were out of reach. But realizing the gravity of the situation, and protesting their own helplessness, the Russian Government now invited the British Government itself to communicate to the raiders a cypher message of recall. Accordingly the cruisers on the Cape Station were sent out to find the delinquents; and on the 5th September they were discovered coaling in the territorial waters of Zanzibar with German colliers in attendance. Their whereabout was at any rate sufficiently well known for them to command the means to replenish their bunkers, and as soon as they saw a British warship, they prepared for instant flight. But H.M.S. _Forte_ managed to communicate to them the orders of their own Government, and as these were too unequivocal to be disregarded, the raiding career of the _Petersburg_ and _Smolensk_ forthwith came to an end. But they had done enough, in conjunction with the Vladivostock Squadron, to rouse feeling in England to a high pitch of irritation; and to make it ill-prepared to endure with patience or forbearance the greater and still more wanton outrage with which the Baltic Fleet was to inaugurate its voyage to the Far East. [Sidenote: The Baltic Fleet] The dispatch of this fleet had been the feverish pre-occupation of the Russian Admiralty from the moment that the first disasters befell the Pacific Squadron at Port Arthur. Naval reinforcements were on the way, it will be remembered, at the outbreak of war, and had reached the Red Sea; but they were recalled when the news of the successful torpedo attack on the Port Arthur Fleet reached Europe. It was realized how vital must be the command of the sea to the achievement of victory; and Russia at once set about preparing an Armada which should restore to her the naval preponderance so suddenly lost. At first the intention, which was so loudly proclaimed, was not taken quite seriously; but it was decidedly encouraged as the weeks went on and as the resisting power of Port Arthur to assault gave hopes that the new fleet might still find a warm-water port to receive it. At first the departure of the Baltic Fleet was announced for June; though everyone knew the design, only formed perhaps to reassure public opinion in Russia, was incapable of fulfilment. Then June came, and the date of departure was again postponed; and in July the world was informed that there was "no hurry;" and that it had been thought advisable to "test thoroughly" the new ships and to familiarize the officers and crews with their work. All through the summer the game of fixing the day of departure and then postponing it went merrily on; but on the 15th August Admiral Rozhestvensky, on whom supreme command of the fleet had been bestowed, went on board the flagship with his staff; and received from the Port Admiral at Kronstadt by signal a formal message of farewell. But nothing more happened, except that on the 20th August it was announced that the Baltic Fleet would not leave before the 28th September. [Illustration: HUGE SIEGE GUNS BEFORE PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: Departure at Last] On the 26th August the fleet went for a trial trip with the most discouraging results, for several of the new ships broke down and the battleship _Orel_ ran aground, inflicting structural injuries on herself. Early in September there was another false alarm. Danish pilots had been procured, and on the 11th September the fleet again put to sea; but it only got as far as the port of Libau, and the next news was that it would remain there "some weeks longer" for firing practice and manoeuvres. The next definite date fixed was the 7th October; but two days later than that the fleet had only got as far as Reval, where it was inspected and blessed by the Czar in person. On the 15th October, however, the long delay at last came to an end, and the fleet, consisting of thirty-six vessels, actually left Russian waters. It is necessary now to describe the fleet in which Russia had placed so many of her hopes. The class and character of the principal vessels is best realized from a table:-- Displace- Indic'd Nom'l Gun W'ght of ment in horse- speed in Protec'n b'side fire BATTLESHIPS. tons. power. knots. in inches. in lbs. Kniaz Suvaroff (flagship) 13,516 16,800 18 11.6 4,426 Alexander III 13,516 16,800 18 11.6 4,426 Borodino 13,516 16,800 18 11.6 4,426 Orel 13,516 16,800 18 11.6 4,426 Ossliabia 12,674 14,500 18 10.5 2,672 Sissoi Veliky (flagship) 8,880 10,400 16 12.5 3,186 Navarin 9,476 18,206 16 12.5 3,404 Displace- Indic'd Nom'l Gun W'ght of ment in horse- speed in Protec'n b'side fire tons. power. knots. in inches. in lbs. ARMORED CRUISERS. Admiral Nakhimoff 8,500 9,000 16.7 6 944 Dmitri Donskoi 5,893 7,000 16 6.2 444 PROTECTED Oleg 6,675 19,500 23 4 872 Aurora 6,630 11,600 20 4.5 632 Svietlana 3,828 8,500 20 4 476 Almaz 3,285 7,500 19 -- 184 Jemtchug 3,200 7,000 24 -- 184 Izumrud 3,200 7,000 24 -- 184 [Sidenote: Strength of Baltic Fleet] In addition to these ships there was a torpedo flotilla of 7 destroyers of 28 knots speed, and 8 torpedo-boats; the following vessels of the Volunteer Fleet: _Kiev_, _Vladimir_, _Voronej_ (each of 10,500 tons and with a speed of 12 knots), _Tambov_, and _Yawslar_ (each of 8,640 tons and with a speed of 12 knots); 13 transports armed with light guns; and a hospital ship, the _Orel_--not to be confused with the battleship of the same name. On paper, at least, this was a very formidable fleet; but its fighting efficiency appears much reduced on analysis. There were four modern battleships of a powerful type and of homogeneous design; but their value is much discounted by the fact that some of their consorts are distinctly less powerful; and in naval warfare the manoeuvring power of a fleet becomes that of its weakest item. This was proved very signally on the occasion of the engagement between Admiral Kamimura and the Vladivostock Squadron, when the Russian cruisers _Gromoboi_ and _Rossia_ suffered most severely from having to stand by the _Rurik_, the lame duck of the squadron. The _Ossliabia_, it is true was not much inferior to the battleships of the _Kniaz Suvaroff_ class. She was a sister ship to the _Peresviet_ and _Pobieda_, sunk in the harbor of Port Arthur, and was launched in 1898. But the _Sissoi Veliky_ and the _Navarin_ both dated from 1891, and were distinctly inferior in the all-important matter of speed, even their nominal speed never having been attained. The only armored cruisers with the Baltic Fleet--the _Admiral Nakhimoff_ and the _Dmiti Donskoi_--were barely entitled to their description, as they have a low speed, light armor, and comparatively small gun power. Certainly they were not fit, like the best armored cruisers of to-day, to lie in the line of battle. Some of the other cruisers were little more than armed merchantmen, and none of them were formidable warships. Another circumstance that detracted from the fighting value of this fleet was the character of the officers and crews. All Russia's best and most highly-trained sailors and marine engineers were sent out before the war to the Pacific Squadron; and she had no adequate reserve to draw on. The modern man-of-war's-man--whether he is in the engine-room or on the gun-deck--is a highly specialized product, and he cannot be turned out at a moment's notice. Stokers, artificers, engineers, as well as torpedo lieutenants, gunners, and even admirals, have to be carefully trained for years before they become efficient, and the inefficiency and inexperience of the scratch crews and raw officers put on board the Baltic Fleet was the main cause of the long delay in that fleet's departure and of the disaster that occurred immediately after the start had been made, and that nearly brought the voyage to a tragic and ignominious conclusion. When all these circumstances were taken into consideration, it became obvious that the Baltic Fleet was hopelessly inferior to the fleet which, on reaching Far Eastern waters, it would have to encounter in order to wrest from the Japanese their command of the sea. But one question, even more urgent than that of the fate which would befall the fleet on arrival, was how it was to overcome the difficulties of the voyage. Russia had no coaling stations; and coaling at sea from attendant colliers has not yet become a feasible operation for a great fleet. The larger vessels would require from 5,000 to 6,000 tons of coal each, and the smaller cruisers from 2,000 to 3,000 tons in the course of a voyage of nearly 13,000 miles, occupying at least 100 days, and very possibly 30 days more. But the coaling difficulty proved less insuperable than it had appeared, and Russia's energy and ingenuity in overcoming it were the first symptoms that she meant the Baltic Fleet to be taken seriously. Negotiations for the supply of coal were opened with English firms; but our Foreign Office ruled that such contracts would be an infringement of neutrality. The Germans, however, were much more complaisant; and their attitude of "benevolent neutrality," as Count Von Bulow called it, enabled them to meet all demands of Russia. Large orders for English coal to be delivered to German consignees at neutral ports were received at Cardiff; and this coal was then transferred to the ports at which the Baltic Fleet was to call. According to the strict interpretation of international law these facilities for coaling in port ought not to have been extended to the fleet of a belligerent. But Russia was a close neighbor of the Powers concerned, and the ally of one of them, while her enemy was a long way off; and so it happened that Admiral Rozhdestvensky suffered no more inconvenience than if he had been engaged on a yachting cruise. He and his fleet put into any port that they fancied, and stayed, practically, as long as they had a mind to! [Sidenote: Russian Alarms] The Baltic Fleet was divided into three divisions, and on the 16th-18th October the first division left Libau. The daring surprise attacks of the Japanese torpedo-boats at Port Arthur had filled the minds of the Russian naval authorities with every kind of misgiving; and by some means not yet disclosed, they had become possessed of the idea that the Japanese meditated an attempt on the Baltic Fleet during its passage through the narrow waters of the Danish Straits and the North Sea. Rumors of mysterious Japanese agents, endeavoring to charter vessels in obscure Danish and Norwegian ports filled the Russian newspapers. On the 14th October Admiral Wirenius, the Chief of the Russian Admiralty, solemnly declared to an interviewer that the narrow waters of the Belt and the Sound were particularly favorable for a surprise attack; that officers of the Japanese Navy were known to have left for Europe; and that there was reason to apprehend an attempt to throw mines in the track of the Russian Squadron in the Danish Straits. The state of "nerves" to which the Russian naval officers had been reduced by these apprehensions was shown when, as the Russian fleet passed through the Kattegat, an attempt was made to deliver to the Russian Admiral a cypher dispatch that had arrived from St. Petersburg. Two fishermen were sent out with the dispatch in a motor-launch, but when their vessel approached the flagship the searchlights were turned on, and blank charges fired to forbid a nearer approach. The dispatch was taken in by a boat launched by the battleship for the purpose. [Sidenote: In the North Sea] On the 19th of October the first division of the fleet passed through the Kattegat; and by the 21st of October all the ships had left Danish waters and entered on their course down the North Sea. Immediately followed an occurrence almost without parallel in naval history--an occurrence that was only saved from inextinguishable ridicule and contempt by the tragic consequences which it unhappily involved. On this memorable night of Friday, the 21st of October, some fifty vessels of the Hull fishing fleet were engaged in trawling on the Dogger Bank--one of the places in the North Sea most frequented by the fishermen not only of Great Britain, but of Germany, Denmark, Holland and Norway. It is a prominent figure in all charts of the North Sea, and to every sailor and seafaring man its situation and character are perfectly familiar. The Hull fishermen, of the Gamecock and Great Northern Fleets, had their trawls down and were thus deprived of the possibility of rapid movement, when about midnight they sighted a number of warships steaming from the northeast. At first they did not suspect that it was the Russian Baltic Fleet that had come their way, because in that event the fleet must have been navigating some 40 miles out of the true course; but very soon their ignorance was enlightened. While the men were watching the passing warships, searchlights were suddenly flashed on the trawlers, and then, to the horror and amazement of these innocent fishermen engaged peaceably in their lawful occupations, a sudden storm of shot and shell broke upon them from unknown men-of-war. The steam-trawler _Crane_ was sunk and its skipper and mate were decapitated by a shell, and all but one of the crew were injured; while the trawlers _Moulmein_ and _Mino_ were seriously damaged, the latter vessel having no fewer than sixteen holes in her. From the evidence given at the subsequent inquiries the following facts were elicited: All the trawlers had their own lights up--namely, a lantern showing a white light ahead, a green light on the starboard side, a red light on the port side. Several vessels also had lights in the fishing pound so that the men could work on deck. None of the trawlers were without lights. As the approaching vessels came nearer they were seen to signal to one another in a way that conveyed to the minds of the trawlers that they were warships. Some of the vessels were in advance of the others. The exact number was very difficult to tell, but in the first division there were probably four or five. They passed the trawlers to the westward, where the admiral's trawler, the _Ruff_, was, and to the eastward of a few of the trawlers. One of them, at any rate, showed a searchlight. They passed on, and nothing happened. It was noticed that they were signalling to the other vessels behind, and that the other vessels were repeating the signals and signalling to each other. These other vessels then came on to the eastward of the admiral's ship, _Ruff_, but there were trawlers on both sides of them. Then, without any warning to the trawlers, these vessels opened fire. The crews on the trawlers were at first under the impression that it was a sham fight in some manoeuvres, but they soon discovered that it was live shot. Some of the warships fired from both port and starboard side. After the firing had begun, this second division of vessels came more to the west, and there were others which came down more to the east. The third division, which came furthest to the eastward, came near some of the outlying trawlers, who were more to the south and east. They turned their searchlights upon them. A great many of the trawlers, in the attempt to get away from the firing when it began, lost their trawls or damaged them. [Illustration: THIRSTY JAPANESE TROOPS CROSSING THE SHA-HO.] [Sidenote: Bringing Home the News] On Sunday night, the 23rd of October, two steam trawlers, one of them flying her flag at half-mast, and both riddled with shot, entered St Andrew's Dock at Hull. Their own condition, and the lifeless and mutilated bodies that they brought with them, were ghastly confirmation of the amazing tidings that they had to tell; and next morning, not only England, but all the world, was ringing with the news of the Baltic fleet's first warlike exploit. Amazement quickly gave place to indignation--an indignation of passionate intensity; and with one voice the people of England cried aloud for retribution at any cost on the perpetrators of so wanton an outrage. Nor was this indignation confined to the countrymen of the victims. In the United States, in France, and even in Germany, unsparing reprobation of a deed so unjustifiable was freely uttered; and the belief was confidently expressed that the only possible explanation was to be found in the undiscipline and probable drunken frenzy of the Russian naval officers. Be it remembered, too, that the heinousness of the offence was infinitely increased by the fact that the Russian ships, whose commanders must have discovered their grievous blunder before leaving the neighborhood of the Dogger Bank, made no effort to ascertain the injury they had inflicted, or to render help to their innocent victims. Neither did the Russian Admiral condescend to make the least report of the circumstances. He and his fleet proceeded on their way as if the sinking of fishing-boats and the slaughtering of fishermen were too trifling an incident to engage serious attention and notice; and when the news of the outrage reached London, the Baltic Squadron had already been sighted in the Channel. No Government could sit down under such provocation as this, and the English ministers, who realized well enough the dangerous pitch to which public feeling had been wrought, lost no time in addressing the strongest demands for immediate redress to St. Petersburg, accompanied by the intimation that the situation was one not admitting of delay. Their action was emphasized by that of King Edward himself, who, in sending a subscription of 200 guineas for the relief of the sufferers, declared that he had heard with profound sorrow of the "unwarrantable action" to which the North Sea fishing-fleet had been subjected. The principal witnesses of the outrage were summoned at once to the Foreign Office, and Lord Lansdowne had long audience of the King, while the Prime Minister, who happened to be in Scotland, came back post-haste to London. On the 25th of October Count Lamsdorff, the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs, called at the British Embassy in St. Petersburg and requested the British Ambassador, Sir Charles Hardinge, to convey to King Edward and the British Government a message from the Czar, who, while he had received no message from the Admiral in command of the Baltic Fleet, could only attribute "the incident in the North Sea to a very regrettable misunderstanding". It was added that the Czar wished to express his sincere regret for the sad loss of life that had occurred, and to say that he would take steps to afford complete satisfaction to the sufferers as soon as the circumstances of the case were cleared up. These assurances, though far from adequate, would have done something to calm the temper of public opinion in England if they had been accompanied by any sign of a similar spirit in the Czar's advisers. But the latter seemed inclined to be as intractable as the Russian press was impenitent. While the Russian Government pursued a policy of delay and evasion, the Russian newspapers roundly denied that any blame attached to the Baltic Fleet, and scouted all idea of reparation; and all the time Admiral Rozhdestvensky was proceeding serenely on his voyage. On the 26th of October his battleships arrived at Vigo Harbor, where at last he took the trouble to communicate his report of what had happened to St. Petersburg. The statement is such an amazing one that it may be given in full. It was communicated to the world under the authority of the Russian Naval General Staff, and ran as follows:-- "1.--The incident in the North Sea was provoked by two torpedo-boats which, without showing any lights, under cover of darkness, advanced to attack the vessel steaming at the head of the detachment. When the detachment began to sweep the sea with its searchlights and opened fire, the presence was also discovered of several small steam vessels resembling small steam fishing-boats. The detachment endeavored to spare these boats and ceased fire as soon as the torpedo-boats were out of sight. "The English press is horrified at the idea that the torpedo-boats of the squadron, left by detachment until the morning on the scene of the occurrence, did not render assistance to the victims. Now, there was not a single torpedo-boat with the detachment and none were left on the scene of the occurrence. In consequence, it was one of the two torpedo-boats which was not sunk, but which was only damaged, which remained until the morning near the small steam craft. The detachment did not assist the small steam craft because it suspected them of complicity, in view of their obstinate persistence in cutting the line of advance of the warships. Several of them did not show any lights at all. The others showed them very late. "2.--Having met several hundreds of fishing-boats, the squadron showed them every consideration, except where they were in company of the foreign torpedo-boats, one of which disappeared, while the other, according to the evidence of the fishermen themselves, remained among them until the morning. They believed her to be a Russian vessel, and were indignant that she did not come to the assistants of the victims. She was, however, a foreigner, and remained until the morning looking for the other torpedo-boat, her companion, either with the object of repairing her damage or from fear of betraying herself to those who were not accomplices. "If there were also on the scene of the occurrence fishermen imprudently involved in this enterprise, I beg, in the name of the whole fleet, to express our sincere regret for the unfortunate victims of circumstances in which no warship could, even in time of profound peace, have acted otherwise." [Sidenote: Naval Preparations] But before this preposterous and long-delayed explanation was vouchsafed, the British Government had taken steps to prove that they were not in the mood to be trifled with, and that the subjects of the greatest naval power in the world were not to be shot down with impunity. To the intense satisfaction of the whole nation, an instant mobilization of the British fleets in European waters was ordered. The Home Fleet, which had been cruising away to the north of Scotland, was ordered south; the Channel Fleet, lying at Gibraltar, was warned to be in instant readiness for active service; and the Mediterranean Fleet was instructed to join up with the Channel Fleet with all speed. The naval dockyards were kept working night and day to prepare the reserve fleet for commission, and to be ready for the demands which an immediate outbreak of war might involve. In forty-eight hours every requisite preparation had been completed, and three fleets, any one of them capable of dealing faithfully with Admiral Rozhdestvensky's squadron, were ready for instant action. Directly in the path of the Baltic Fleet, now assembled at Vigo, lay the Channel Fleet under the command of Lord Charles Beresford, and so acute was the crisis that it seemed as if at any moment that fleet might be ordered to take the sea. Among the secret preparations made was the dispatch of four battleships from the Channel Squadron at Gibraltar to Portland and the assembly of all available submarines at Dover. What made the situation especially dangerous was the conflict which in this hour of desperate emergency was being waged between the Russian Admiralty and the Russian Foreign Office. The former department, which had done so much to aggravate the case of the _Malacca_ and to flout the assurances which had been given as to the withdrawal of the _Petersburg_ and _Smolensk_, was now determined that no surrender should be made to the British demands for satisfaction in the matter of the North Sea outrage; and for several days the more pacific Foreign Office wrestled with these fire-eaters in vain. War between England and Russia, with the prospect of indefinite extension to other countries, seemed inevitable; but thanks largely to the friendly offices of the French Government, who, as the ally of Russia and the friend of Great Britain, had exceptional claims to act as an intermediary between the disputants, a settlement was at length arrived at. On the 28th of October, Mr. Balfour was able to announce to the world that that morning an agreement had been arrived at which averted all further apprehension of the rupture of peaceful relations. Great Britain and Russia had consented to refer the case in dispute to an impartial International Tribunal of Inquiry; the terms of the Convention, which were signed after much further negotiation on the 24th of November, being as follows:-- 1.--The Commission is to consist of five members, namely, officers of Great Britain, Russia, the United States, and France. The fifth Commissioner is to be selected by agreement between them. If they cannot agree, the choice to be entrusted to the king of a country subsequently to be determined upon. 2.--The Commission is to report on all the circumstances relating to the disaster and to establish the responsibility. 3.--The Commission is to have power to settle all questions of procedure. 4.--The parties bind themselves to supply the Commission with all necessary information, facilities, &c. 5.--The Commission is to meet at Paris as soon as possible after the signature of the Convention. 6.--The report of the Commission is to be officially communicated to the respective Governments. [Sidenote: Russian Allegations] Not the least interesting part of Mr. Balfour's statement was that in which he examined and dealt with the justification which Admiral Rozhdestvensky had put forward, and in particular with the allegation that the Russian fleet had been attacked by torpedo-boats. This allegation, as Mr. Balfour pointed out, involved a charge of bad faith on the part of Great Britain, and such a charge he indignantly resented. If only one torpedo-boat was sunk, what, he pertinently asked, had become of the other? The world did not require to be convinced of the essential absurdity of this story; but the Russians persisted in it with determination. The most circumstantial narratives were presently forthcoming from the four officers who had been detained to give evidence before the International Commission. One narrator stated that information of the presence of Japanese torpedo-boats in the Norway fiords, and of the Japanese having hired fishing vessels in Hull, Southampton, Hamburg, and Christiania, had been received by the Russians. He proceeded as follows: "We lodged information of the Japanese intentions with the Governments of those countries where the Japanese were making their preparations, but it was only in Denmark and Germany that we found any readiness to interfere with them.... Before leaving the Scaw the Russians received a number of alarming messages from their agents. All these messages agreed in stating that in one very deep Norwegian fiord four Japanese torpedo-boats had been seen, and that these vessels were afterwards observed a short distance to the west of the Scaw. The Russians left the Scaw in the morning, proceeding in different divisions. All the torpedo craft went on ahead, in two divisions, making for Cherbourg. Next came Admiral Folkersahm with the four older battleships making for Tangier. The small cruisers were under orders to proceed to Arosa, 40 miles north of Vigo, while the large cruisers with the transport _Kamchatka_, under the command of Admiral Enquist, had instructions to make for Tangier like Admiral Folkersahm. "Last of all we put to sea with the four best battleships, _Suvaroff_, _Alexander III._, _Borodino_, and _Orel_. Our destination was Brest, where we were to coal. Observe, therefore, that there was not with us a single torpedo-boat or a single small vessel. All such were far ahead of us.... On the 8th of October, at 8 o'clock in the evening, when it was already quite dark, we received a wireless message stating that 30 miles behind us was the transport _Kamchatka_, which had fallen behind her consorts (the cruisers _Dmitri Donskoi_ and _Aurora_) in consequence of an injury to her engines, and that several torpedo-boats were following her closely, but had not discharged any torpedoes. Admiral Enquist, who was in front with the two cruisers, was at once ordered by wireless message to slacken speed and wait for the _Kamchatka_, or to continue his course in order not to expose himself to the torpedo-boats, which, of course, also received our messages, but did not know from what spot they were sent. The Japanese, however, attempted to find out our whereabouts. While we were exchanging messages with the _Kamchatka_ we suddenly received a succession of telegrams, in excellent Russian, purporting to come from the _Kamchatka_: 'Where is the squadron?' 'Give your latitude and longitude.' 'Where is the _Suvaroff_?' These telegrams appeared to us suspicious, and, in order to assure ourselves that they were really sent by the _Kamchatka_, instead of answering we asked for the name of one of the officers of the _Kamchatka_. To this no answer was returned, and we continued our conversation with the _Kamchatka_ in cypher. At 12.55 A. M. we suddenly saw in front of us ... two long dark silhouettes, emitting quantities of smoke and evidently steaming at high speed. At the same time we saw a yellow-red rocket, such as is generally sent up by vessels in distress. A moment later a searchlight was thrown upon us from ahead.... We at once turned our searchlights on the torpedo-boats and opened fire on them. As soon as they saw that they were discovered, they turned aside, but came under the fire of the _Alexander III._, _Borodino_, and _Orel_, which were following us. About the same time our searchlights began to fall from time to time on some small vessels, apparently fishing craft, whose behavior, however, was very suspicious. They showed no lights, there was not a man on their decks, and they obstinately remained under the bows of our ships, barring their course. They were thus in a position to launch floating mines. In spite of this, however, the Admiral, as soon as he caught sight of them, ordered that the searchlights on board the _Suvaroff_ should be turned skywards, which was a signal to cease firing. "To remain where we were after the torpedo-boats had disappeared in order to aid the steamers would have been the height of imprudence. We should have risked the most formidable part of our fleet, and as there were several steamers they were in a position to aid each other. As far as could be perceived, one of the enemy's torpedo-boats was sunk." The narrator argued that either the fishing vessels were accomplices or the Japanese took advantage of their proximity without their knowledge. He inclined to the former alternative, and asked, "Why Hull fishing boats so far from England--almost off the Danish coast?" The best commentary on this narrative was supplied by the Russian Government themselves, who, six weeks after the North Sea outrage, published the following significant admission of facts, which had, of course, been perfectly well known to them almost from the first:-- [Sidenote: Supplementary Information] "According to supplementary information from Admiral Rozhdestvensky concerning the North Sea incident of the 21st of October, after the _Kniaz Suvaroff_ had ceased firing there suddenly appeared on the left of the ironclad division the two searchlights of the cruisers _Dmitri Donskoi_ and _Aurora_, lighting up the division. The _Dmitri Donskoi_ showed her night signals, whereupon for fear lest projectiles from the hindmost ships of the division should hit our own vessels, either directly or by ricochet, a general signal to cease fire was made from the ironclad _Kniaz Suvaroff_, and was at once carried out. The whole of the firing lasted less than ten minutes. Communications by wireless telegraph stated that five projectiles had struck the cruiser _Aurora_, some ricocheting and others hitting her direct. Three were 75-millimètre and two 47-millimètre shells. The chaplain was seriously injured, and a petty officer was slightly wounded. The former subsequently succumbed at Tangier." [Illustration: FIGHT IN STREET OF LIN-SHIN-PU, BATTLE OF SHAK-KE RIVER.] This communication bears out the theory advanced in the first instance that the Russians in the panic had mistaken their own ships for hostile torpedo-boats, and had opened fire on the "two long, dark silhouettes emitting quantities of smoke" without stopping to ascertain what they belonged to. [Sidenote: The Baltic Fleet Proceeds to Madagascar] After leaving Vigo, the Baltic Fleet divided into two squadrons--one proceeding down the West Coast of Africa, and the other through the Suez Canal. By the end of December (two months and a half from leaving Libau) they had completed barely one-half of their voyage; and by that time, not only was Vladivostock frost-bound, but Port Arthur was dominated by Japanese guns, and the remnants of the Pacific Fleet lay shell-riddled on the mud of the harbor. Before the International Commission of Inquiry met for business, all hope of the Baltic Fleet's achieving any serious purpose had been dissipated; for while it was still mustering at Madagascar, the news arrived that the fall of Port Arthur was at last an accomplished fact. CHAPTER XIII. Progress of the Siege--Siege of Port Arthur--The Japanese Progress--The Japs Attack Metre Hill--The Russian Fleet between Two Fires--A Jap Hero--Tunnels and Hand-grenades--The Japs Capture Urlungshan--The Surrender of Port Arthur--"Great Sovereign! Forgive!"--The Japs Occupy the Fortress--Discreditable Surrender--The End of the Siege of Port Arthur. [Sidenote: Progress of the Siege] In spite of such distractions as the campaign in Manchuria and the career of the Baltic Fleet, Port Arthur remained the real focal point of the world-wide interest which the tremendous struggle in the Far East had aroused. The progress of the siege, which had been veiled in obscurity during the earlier months of investment, owing to the severity of the censorship, was suddenly and frankly revealed to the world in the late autumn, and from that moment the salient incidents of this thrilling drama could be followed almost from day to day. Winter's icy grip, which had brought to a pause the headlong train of the campaign in Manchuria, caused no interruption to the implacable contest for mastery between the heroic troops of General Nogi and the dauntless garrison commanded by General Stoessel. Not for an instant was there the least relaxation of effort on the part of the besiegers or of endurance on the part of the besieged. Rather was the resolution of both combatants screwed to a higher pitch by the knowledge that time might be the deciding factor in the conflict. The departure of the Baltic Fleet gave General Stoessel hopes of ultimate relief as the reward for holding on, and threatened General Nogi with the stultification of all his sacrifices. With Port Arthur remaining in Russian hands, the recovery by her of the command of the sea must always be a menacing possibility for the Japanese; while the fall of Port Arthur meant not only the destruction of the last remnant of the Russian Pacific Squadron, but the loss of the only practicable base for any future naval operations. The whole Japanese plan of campaign must rest on a more or less precarious foundation as long as Russia had a fleet in being in Eastern seas, for the vital lines of sea communication must be liable to severance. With the Russian flag swept from its last refuge, Japan must remain invincible to the mightiest armies that Russia could assemble in Manchuria. [Sidenote: Siege of Port Arthur] The story of the siege of Port Arthur has already been related in this narrative up to the moment immediately preceding the capture of 203-Metre Hill--an event that marked the turning-point of the whole protracted operations, and that proved to be the real beginning of the end. Before describing in detail the action that led to this signal victory for General Nogi's troops, it may be well to give a brief résumé of the situation as it then existed. [Illustration: PORT ARTHUR AND THE SURROUNDING FORTS.] The investment may be said to have begun on June 26th, and between that date and the end of October a series of more or less desperate and costly assaults on the Russian outworks had carried the Japanese lines closer and closer to the permanent defences with which the town and the harbor of Port Arthur were secured from attack by land. In the great attacks of August 28th and September 20th, some progress was made to the east and north; but no great impression was made in the formidable chain of forts; and even on October 30th, when another assault was delivered, on the Keekwan and Urlungshan forts, the Japanese were repulsed with the loss of 2,000 men. On September 20th a determined assault had been made on 203-Metre Hill--the highest eminence of that ridge which runs between Louisa Bay on the west and the great forts, Itszshan and Antszshan, dominating the western approaches of Port Arthur. The attempt was almost successful, but not quite, and all that remained to reward the Japanese for their terrible sacrifice of life was the possession of a height, a little to the north, known as Namaokoyama, or 180-Metre Hill. This is due east of 174 Metre Hill, captured in August. At the same time the Japanese, however, succeeded in taking possession of the Sueishi lunettes, which defend the valley through which the railway runs, and of Fort Kuropatkin, which commands the water supply of Port Arthur. This was the position when, on November 26th, General Nogi ordered another assault on the fortress, with the especial object of capturing 203 Metre Hill. The possession of this height was of immense importance to the besiegers--not because it would threaten the great forts of Antszshan and Itszshan, but because it would afford a complete view of every corner of the harbor, and enable the fire of heavy guns to be directed on the last refuge of the Russian fleet. More than that, the position would command the branch line running from Port Arthur to Liau-tie-shan, whither the Russians were daily conveying stores, as if in preparation for a last stand in this inaccessible stronghold. Although not one of the permanent fortifications, the defences of 203 Metre Hill were of the most formidable kind. On the crest, and cut out of the hill itself, were two redoubts on the two distinct peaks, each mounting heavy guns, while the slopes leading up to them were traversed with trenches and wire entanglements. [Illustration: HAULING GUNS UP A CAPTURED HILL AT PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: The Japanese Attack Metre Hill] After his repulse in September, General Nogi had abandoned all further attack on the west; but the importance of effecting a lodgment there, together with his equal lack of success in the east, induced him to return to his earlier plan. But this time the methods of attack were changed. To prevent the concentration of the garrison at one point, assaults were delivered simultaneously on the two opposite sides of the perimeter of defence; and, instead of trusting to the mere weight of numbers to overcome resistance, the resources of the military engineer were drawn upon to facilitate approach to the critical points. At the last assault the Japanese infantry had moved forward in close formation over the open ground separating their forming point from the trenches of the enemy, and they had been swept down in hundreds by the concentrated fire from a dozen batteries. But early in November the Japanese engineers set to work to construct parallels from the low hills at the foot of the Metre range across the intervening valley and up the southwest corner of 203 Metre Hill, dominated by that one of the twin peaks which was known as 210. To construct similar approaches on the northeast side was rendered impossible by the fire of the neighboring fort Akasakayama. On November 27th fresh troops were brought up for the attack, and a tremendous artillery fire was concentrated on the summit of the Metre ridge. Field guns, firing shrapnel, and naval guns and howitzers, firing enormous shells, poured their deadly hail on the forts and trenches; but though they diminished they could not utterly subdue the fire of the intrepid defenders, and the Japanese casualties were very heavy as soon as their devoted infantry, emerging from the parallels, endeavored to climb the steep face of the hill. But after nearly seven hours' fighting the crest was won, and the southwestern peak fell into the hands of the Japanese. This success was the signal for an immediate and determined assault upon the 203 peak, but it proved futile. A deadly fire from the neighboring forts made the retention of the southwest peak impossible for the gallant men who had won it. They were driven down to the reverse slope again, and were thus unable to assist in keeping down the fire of the garrison of 203 peak. An attack on the Akasakayama works also failed, and thus the troops assailing the northeastern face of the hill were exposed to a flank fire as well as to a direct fire from above, and were driven back with heavy loss. But the Japanese managed to retain their position just below the crest of 210, and here they constructed trenches which made the reoccupation of the summit by the enemy impossible. But the Russians still disputed possession, and the opposing forces, behind sandbag defences erected within a stone's throw of one another, maintained an incessant fight with bullets, bayonets and hand-grenades. The proximity of the combatants compelled the artillery on both sides to desist from taking part in the encounter. The Japanese guns confined themselves to shelling the crest of 203 peak and the reverse slope of 210, in order to prevent reinforcements reaching the troops that still disputed the possession of that eminence. At this moment occurred one of those tragic incidents which throw such an ironic light on the best laid schemes of generals and the noblest self-sacrifice of soldiers. A party of Japanese managed at last to establish themselves in a trench on the slope of Akasakayama; but no sooner had they attained this hard-won position than they found themselves exposed to a merciless hail of shrapnel, not from Russian guns, but from those of their own countrymen. The Japanese artillerists had not observed the lodgment that had been made in the enemy's trenches, and they persisted in their bombardment with such deadly effect that their luckless comrades were compelled to relinquish the advantage they had gained, and to make the best of their way back to the main body under a double fire. On December 1st a renewed attack on both the 210 and 203 peaks was made, but with no success; and during the next few days the Japanese engineers were busy in extending their parallels and trenches, in order to allow the assailing troops to approach close to their objective before coming under fire; and while this work was going on the Russian positions were subjected to a furious and incessant bombardment. This bombardment reached its height on the morning of the 5th, when every preparation for the renewed assault had been completed. The Metre Hill, it is said, resembled a smoking volcano under the storm of shell that burst over it. This assault was to be a supreme effort, and every Japanese soldier who took part in it was conscious of the responsibility devolving on him, as, after saluting the regimental standards, he moved forward to take his place in the ranks that lined the parallels and advanced trenches. Early in the afternoon a simultaneous rush was made towards both of the crests of the Metre range. The moment was one of acute suspense, and with breathless anxiety the Japanese staff watched the far-off line of khaki-clad figures swarming up the hillside and climbing over the breastwork of the Russian trenches. The issue was not long in doubt. Meeting with scarcely any resistance, the storming parties swept on until they reached the crest of both peaks, and found themselves at last in undisputed possession of the long-coveted position. The explanation of this unexpectedly easy victory was not far to seek. The bombardment of the previous three days had been so severe that it had been impossible for the defenders to live under it. The 500-lb. shells from the howitzers had blown the place to fragments, and except for three men taken prisoners, every soul who manned the guns and trenches had been killed or forced to fly to the forts in the rear. Torn and mutilated bodies, mingled with piles of débris, lay about in hundreds, and the scene was rendered the more appalling by the presence of corpses, in every stage of decomposition, which had been lying on the ground since the attack on September 20th. But the Japanese were not left long in undisturbed possession of the ground they had won. General Stoessel, realizing as fully as his enemy the importance of 203 Metre Hill, made desperate efforts to recapture it. Six separate counter-assaults were delivered, and for hours the fiercest and most sanguinary hand-to-hand fighting raged. But the Japanese had stronger reinforcements than their adversaries, and their numbers and gallantry prevailed at last. After losing nearly 3,000 men, the Russian General realized that the case was hopeless, and left his enemy in possession of the stricken field. Immediately their position was assured the Japanese dragged up their guns and proceeded to pound the neighboring height Akasakayama, from which the Russians were forced to retire with all speed. While this substantial and, as it turned out, decisive victory was being won in the west, an equally determined assault was proceeding in the east against the great forts of Urlungshan, Sungshushan and East Keekwanshan. The Japanese carried their parallels within charging distance of the front of the forts, and then began to mine. Having reached a point beneath the counterscarp, they exploded their mines, and then rushed into the breach thus formed. But the Russians, though losing heavily by the explosions, were prepared for the emergency. They had machine guns placed in position to command the outer defences, and the assailants only gained the breach to be mown down by a hail of bullets. In this assault the Japanese had recourse to the traditional weapon of their ancient chivalry. Under the lead of Generals Nakamura and Saito, trained bodies of swordsmen of the famous Samurai, or warrior-caste, charged into the imminent deadly breach, endeavoring to close in a desperate hand-to-hand encounter with their stubborn foe. But even the traditional gallantry of Japan's knighthood was spent in vain in this enterprise, and the parapets of the forts remained inaccessible to assault. But the Japanese, whose resource in this protracted siege had only been equalled by their indomitable determination, had by this time learned the secret of success against such tremendous fortifications as those with which Port Arthur was begirt. Since gallantry and the sacrifice of life could not prevail, patience and ingenuity must be tried, and the engineers were called upon to carry further still the sapping operations which had already breached the outer works. As in the adoption of those deadly hand-grenades, which played so important a part in all the battles of the siege, so in the construction of parallels and the tunnelling of mines the world saw a return to the practice and methods of the 17th century. To find a counterpart to these huge forts of Port Arthur, with their scarps and counter-scarps, their glacis and cuponniéres and ravelins, one has to go back to the system of the great military engineer Vanban, who carried the science of fortification to its highest perfection. There was only one assailant to which these mighty works were not impregnable--and that assailant was the explosive power of dynamite. This resistless auxiliary the Japanese made speed to enlist in their service. [Sidenote: The Russian Fleet between Two Fires] Meanwhile, leaving the sappers to their insidious task on the east, the Japanese artillerists were swift to take advantage of the new position won for them on the west. From the summit of 203 Metre Hill, the whole town and harbor of Port Arthur lay revealed, and the remnant of the Russian fleet which lay sheltered there could no longer escape the searching attentions of the Japanese shells. The great howitzers, firing their 500 lb. projectiles, and the big naval guns were quickly moved into position, and, directed from the observation station on 203 Metre Hill, they began to drop shot after shot on the helpless men-of-war. So perfect was the command, that it was possible for the besiegers to count every day the hits they made, and to specify the particular ships against which they had been recorded. One after another these mighty vessels succumbed to the incessant pounding that they received, and in a few days the four battleships _Retvisan_, _Peresviet_, _Pobieda_ and _Poltava_, and the armored cruiser _Bayan_ were reported sunk or damaged so as to be unseaworthy. Only the _Sevastopol_ remained, and she temporarily escaped to the outer roadstead, with consequences that will be related presently. These ships were the real objective of the siege. Their disablement preserved Japan from her most serious menace; but next to that consummation, their capture was a point of primary importance. The Japanese naturally desired not only to render these powerful vessels useless to their adversaries, but to make them useful to themselves. Accordingly, having made sure that the ships were injured beyond the power of the Port Arthur docks to repair them, the besiegers were careful to inflict no further damage on them. By the 12th the Japanese gunners had attained their object, and the _Sevastopol_ was the only seaworthy survivor of the Russian squadron; and attention was forthwith turned to her from another direction. Admiral Togo, whose fleet had been cruising outside Port Arthur to shut off the natural avenue of escape for the wretched Russian fleet, now directed his torpedo-boats to attack the battleship _Sevastopol_ as she lay at her moorings in the outer roadstead. Her position was exactly that which the whole Pacific squadron had occupied on the fateful night of February 6th, when the first stroke of war was delivered, and Russia's best two battleships were put out of action. But this time the advantage of a surprise attack was out of the question. The commander of the _Sevastopol_ well knew what to expect, and had taken his precautions accordingly. An enormous boom had been constructed round the hull of the warship, and an elaborate system of netting had been hung from it to defy the approach of any torpedo. On the other hand, however, the fire of the shore batteries was no longer a substantial auxiliary in repelling torpedo attack; and the whole organization of the port defences was more or less impaired, if not destroyed. On the night of the 12th of December, and thrice again on the night of the 13th, the intrepid torpedo-craft of the Japanese fleet steamed into the roadstead and fired their terrible engines of destruction at the ill-fated battleship. But the boom proved on these occasions an impenetrable defence; so the attack was again renewed--this time in a blinding snowstorm. Two flotillas were engaged. The one lost its direction owing to the snow and the glare of the enemy's searchlights; but the second flotilla reached its mark, and discharged torpedoes at the _Sevastopol_, on which at least two took effect. The boats became separated in the storm, and one never returned to the main fleet--being either sunk by a shot or swamped by the very high seas that were running. To add to the difficulty of the enterprise, the weather was bitterly cold, and the decks of the vessels were coated with ice from the freezing of the spray that broke over them. When morning broke, those who had been engaged in this desperate enterprise were rewarded by the sight of the _Sevastopol_ perceptibly down at the stern. A few days later the vessel was so disabled that she had to be run aground. The spirit in which this daring attack was carried out may be gathered from the following extracts from Admiral Togo's official dispatches:-- "While retreating, one torpedo boat was struck several times. Her commander, Lieutenant Nakahara, and five other men were killed. The boat lost her freedom of motion, and Lieutenant Nakahara's boat went to the rescue. Notwithstanding a heavy fire, she continued her effort to save the disabled vessel. When she had her in tow, the hawser was severed by the enemy's shells, and Lieutenant Nakahara's boat was also hit, and one man killed. Subsequently several shells hit and almost disabled Lieutenant Nakahara's boat, and forced him to abandon his sister ship, which was in a sinking condition. Lieutenant Nakahara, however, steamed back and rescued the crew, who were abandoning the boat. Commander Kawase's boat, of the same flotilla, was struck by a shell, which killed one man and wounded Lieutenant Takahashi and two sailors. Lieutenant Shoro's boat was also hit, one man being killed and five wounded. The boat was temporarily disabled, but the ships commanded by Lieutenants Wataehe and Mori stood by her and rescued all the men. The other vessels, bravely facing the enemy's fire, succeeded in delivering their attacks without sustaining damage.... It is a source of satisfaction that our torpedo attacks were delivered without the least confusion; each boat rendered material assistance to her comrades. The skill in manoeuvring and the bravery displayed by our officers and men inspire me with a deep feeling of satisfaction and confidence." [Sidenote: A Japanese Hero] Commander Yezoe's flotilla was under repairs when the attack was planned. He succeeded in putting one of his torpedo-boats into fighting condition, and steamed to the rendezvous, where he found that the other flotillas had already left. His entreaty that he should be permitted to join in the attack was granted, and steaming alone through the blinding snow, he succeeded in locating the _Sevastopol_. Approaching close enough to hear the Russians talking, he fired a torpedo, and then, going in still closer, he discharged another torpedo at the battleship. A shell from the _Sevastopol_ struck Commander Yezoe in the abdomen, and cut his body in two. His remains were saved and brought back to the fleet. [Sidenote: Tunnels and Hand Grenades] The complete destruction or disablement of the remnant of the Russian fleet seems to have had a dispiriting effect, as well it might have, on the defenders of Port Arthur, for from this moment the vigor of their resistance to assault perceptibly waned. In proportion the confidence and resolution of the Japanese increased, and before long their unremitting exertions were rewarded with another substantial success. Hitherto their assaults on the eastern defences of Port Arthur had met with but little success. In spite of all their sacrifices the great permanent forts stood firm; but by the middle of December their new methods of sapping and mining achieved the long-desired breach in the iron ring, and East Keekwanshan fort was captured. A mine had been tunnelled right up to the parapet of the fort, and in the afternoon of December 18th the mine was exploded, bringing down an avalanche of earth and masonry that filled up the ditch in its fall, and made a rude but practicable staircase up the deep counter-scarp into the interior of the fort. The Japanese troops, lying ready in their trenches, sprang forward to the breach before the garrison could recover from the discomfiture of the explosion, and poured into the inner works, flinging their terrible hand-grenades at all who opposed their impetuous charge. But after the first surprise, the Russians recovered and stood their ground, and by turning machine guns on the assailants, held them for a time at bay. While the issue still hung in the balance, however, General Samejuna, at the head of the Japanese reserves, flung himself into the fighting line, and a last great charge swept the fort clear of its dogged defenders. The fight lasted for no less than ten hours, and immediately it was won the Japanese entrenched themselves to make their hold secure. The attack, in this case, was entrusted to two bodies of volunteers, who, in calm anticipation of their probable fate, had fastened to their clothing badges of identification, so that the corpses should be recognizable in spite of the disfiguring effects of the explosion of hand-grenades. One-half of these devoted men charged from their trenches too eagerly after the mine had been fired, with the result that most of them were buried beneath the falling debris. The nature and extent of the mining operations which made the capture of East Keekwanshan practicable may be gathered from the fact that two tunnels 40 feet long had been dug out, and that both tunnels terminated in four branches, in each of which a separate mine was laid. Four quick-firers, five field guns, and four machine guns, and a large quantity of rifles and ammunition, were among the spoils that fell to the victors in this assault. Only twenty men of the garrison escaped down a covered way, which they blocked behind them by the explosion of mines. The fort captured, though not one of the strongest of those on the eastern ridge, was yet of great importance to the besiegers, because it opened the way to the greater forts beyond, and this success was speedily followed by others on the other side of Port Arthur. Operating between Pigeon Bay and the Metre range, the Japanese captured several minor heights on which the Russians had mounted guns. Thus they continued to advance steadily to the isolation of the western defences; and the only comfort which the anxious authorities in St. Petersburg could enjoy was that to be derived from a dispatch of General Kuropatkin, in which the Commander-in-Chief in Manchuria announced that, according to Chinese reports, the garrison of Port Arthur had recaptured 203 Metre Hill, "with the guns placed there by the enemy." The Chinese do nothing by halves, not even lying. [Illustration: JAPANESE ELEVEN-INCH MORTAR BEFORE PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: The Japanese Capture Urlungshan] Undismayed by this announcement, the Japanese continued their investment with increasing severity, and on December 28th, or four weeks after the capture of 203 Metre Hill, they achieved the great triumph of wresting the mighty Urlungshan from its stubborn defenders. This, the greatest and most formidable of all the eastern forts of Port Arthur had defied many previous assaults, and had cost the army of the Mikado many hundreds of gallant lives. But like the northern fort of East Keekwanshan, it succumbed to the irresistible persuasion of dynamite. At 10 o'clock in the morning of December 28th, the mine which had been laid beneath the parapet was exploded, and the Japanese rushed in through the breach. Under the cover of artillery fire from the rear, the assaulters then constructed defensive works; and having thus established themselves and received reinforcements, they rushed forward again and captured the heavy guns of the fort. From this point another charge had to be made before the defenders could be driven out completely; but by half-past seven in the evening the task was accomplished, and the whole fort was in the hands of the Japanese, whose losses amounted to at least 1,000 men. The spoils included four big guns, seven smaller guns, thirty quick-firers, and two machine guns. The tunnels for the mines which were exploded under the parapet had to be cut through the solid rock, and no less than two tons of dynamite was used for the exploding charge. The result was that half the garrison of 500 men were killed on the spot. Next to the great Urlung fort, Sungshushan was the most formidable permanent work on the eastern ridge, and three days later this fell to the Japanese in much the same way. On the morning of the last day of the expiring year, dynamite mines were exploded beneath the parparet of the fort, and within an hour the whole fort was in the secure possession of the Japanese. Over 300 of the defenders were entombed in one of the galleries by the explosion, and of these only a half were rescued by the victors, the remainder perishing miserably. Other forts in the immediate vicinity fell almost immediately afterwards, and it became evident that the whole of the forts on the eastern ridge were practically doomed. Nothing now could stay the victorious onslaught of the Japanese, and the capitulation of Port Arthur, which but a little while before had seemed so remote and conjectural, now loomed in the immediate future. But even yet the world was hardly prepared for the end which was imminent. Up to the last, General Stoessel's dispatches had been confident and defiant, and it was thought to be quite likely that even yet he would reveal some hitherto unsuspected resources. [Sidenote: The Surrender of Port Arthur] In his somewhat rhetorical dispatches to the Czar, General Stoessel had repeatedly declared his determination to fight to the death, and although the signal successes of the Japanese during the month of December had evidently reduced very largely the resisting power of the garrison, the general expectation was that the hopeless struggle would still be carried on, and that Stoessel and his troops would in the last resort retire to the fastnesses of Liau-tie-shan. While deprecating this desperate counsel, as involving the useless shedding of blood, the world would have applauded its heroism. But as it happened, other counsels prevailed. On the morning of the first day of the new year General Nogi received a letter from General Stoessel proposing negotiations for capitulation, and the proposal was immediately accepted. But operations were not at once suspended. The Japanese attacked the same morning the Fort of Wantai on the East Ridge, and captured it after only slight resistance, while several of the forts in the vicinity were blown up by the defenders. In further recognition of the fact that all was lost save honor, the Russians then proceeded to explode mines on all the warships in the harbor, in order to ensure that they should be useless to the enemy into whose hands they were about to fall. Of the destroyer flotilla, only four vessels remained serviceable. These put to sea on the night of January 1st, and, managing to evade the blockading squadron, reached Chifu, where they were immediately dismantled. Then at last a truce was proclaimed, and for the first time for six long months the thunder of the great guns rolled no longer about Port Arthur. Immediately news of the proposed surrender was received in St. Petersburg, the Mikado magnanimously expressed his high appreciation of the loyalty and endurance displayed by General Stoessel on behalf of his country, and gave orders that all the honors of war should be extended to him. On January 2nd the capitulation agreement was signed, its essential terms being as follows:-- The whole fortress, ships, arms, ammunition, military buildings, materials and other Government property were to be surrendered. The Japanese reserved free action if those objects were considered to have been destroyed or injured after the signing of the agreement. Plans of forts, torpedoes, mines, military and naval officers' lists, &c. were to be delivered over. Soldiers, sailors, volunteers and other officials were to be taken prisoners, but, in consideration of the brave defences they had made, military and naval officers and civil officials attached were to be allowed to bear arms, keep their private property of immediate necessity of daily life, and also to return to Russia upon parole not to take, till the end of the war, arms or action opposed to Japan's interest. Forts Itszshan, Antszshan and the others outstanding were to be surrendered to the Japanese before noon, January 3rd, as a guarantee. [Sidenote: "Great Sovereign! Forgive!"] The whole world was filled with sympathy and admiration for the gallant soldiers whose valor and endurance had withstood so long such heavy odds and such a fearful strain. These feelings were intensified by the lurid accounts which, now that concealment could no longer be of service, were published of the awful sufferings of the garrison during the later stages of the siege. An officer of one of the destroyers that escaped to Chifu on January 1st thus described the conditions which had compelled surrender:-- "Port Arthur falls of exhaustion--exhaustion not only of ammunition but also of men. The remnant left was doing heroes' work for five days and five nights, and yesterday it had reached the limit of human endurance. In the casemates of the forts one saw everywhere faces black with starvation, exhaustion and nerve strain. You spoke to them and they did not answer, but stared dumbly in front of them. Lack of ammunition alone would not have prompted any attempt to arrange terms. Lack of ammunition has been common in the fortress during the past months. Many forts had nothing with which to return the fire of the enemy. The Russians sat in the casemates firing no more than one shot to the Japanese 200. Then, when the assault came, they repulsed the enemy with the bayonet. But the men themselves, feeding for three months on reduced rations, were so worn that it is marvelous that they stood the final strain so long." In his last dispatches, written just before the capitulation, General Stoessel himself said:-- "The position of the fortress is becoming very painful. Our principal enemies are scurvy, which is mowing down the men, and 11-inch shells, which know no obstacle and against which there is no protection. There only remains a few persons who have not been attacked by scurvy. We have taken all possible measures, but the disease is spreading. The passive endurance of the enemy's bombardment with 11-inch shells, the impossibility of reply for want of ammunition, the outbreak of scurvy, and the loss of a mass of officers--all these causes diminish daily the defence. "The tale of losses of higher officers is an indication of the enormous losses which we have sustained. Of ten generals, two, Kondrachenko and Tserpitsky, have been killed; one, Raznatovsky, is dead; two are wounded, myself and General Nadeine; and one Gorbatovsky, is suffering from contusions. The percentage of other superior officers who were killed or died of disease or were wounded several times is enormous. Many companies are commanded by ensigns, and on an average each company is at present composed of not more than sixty men." It was stated that of the original garrison of 35,000 men, no less than 11,000 had been killed, while 16,000 were sick or wounded, and 8,000 remained in the forts, of whom, however, 2,000 were unable to fight. These are the words in which General Stoessel announced to the Czar the surrender of Russia's "impregnable stronghold":-- "Great Sovereign! Forgive! We have done all that was humanly possible. Judge us, but be merciful. Eleven months of ceaseless fighting have exhausted our strength. A quarter only of the defenders, and one-half of these invalids, occupy twenty-seven versts of fortifications without support and without intervals for even the briefest repose. The men are reduced to shadows." Even the Japanese were at first impressed with the same view of the situation, for they reported that of 25,000 combatants, 20,000 were sick or wounded. [Sidenote: The Japanese Occupy the Fortress] The greatest good feeling prevailed between the two armies after the surrender had been completed. The soldiers fraternized freely, and the Japanese did all in their power to deprive the situation of all trace of humiliation for their vanquished enemy. General Stoessel and General Nogi lunched together and exchanged fraternal compliments, but the bearing of the two men was strongly contrasted. There was a note of theatricality in the Russian's conduct which was significant. Having mounted his favorite charger and shown its paces to the Japanese victor, he begged to be allowed to present it to him--a proposal which General Nogi put by with the matter-of-fact observation that the horse already belonged to the Japanese Army, and that he could not accept it as a personal gift. But still all the world rang with praises of the heroic Russian garrison; and the German Emperor, with characteristic impetuosity, constituted himself a sort of supreme umpire, and with a great flourish of trumpets presented to the leaders of the two contesting forces in this historic siege the Prussian Order, "Pour le Merite." The Russians marched out of Port Arthur on the 7th of January, and the Japanese entered on the following day; and then the reports as to the condition of Port Arthur suddenly underwent a remarkable change. It slowly leaked out that the surrendered force amounted not to 20,000, most of whom were _hors de combat_ from wounds or disease, but to 48,000, of whom 878 officers and 32,000 men were still available for the defence of the fortress. There were also discovered no less than 80,000 tons of coal and enough rice and flour to provision the garrison for two months. The troops, moreover, discovered no sign of starvation or exhaustion. They were found to be in splendid condition and well fed. Even the ammunition was very far from being exhausted. For the guns in the forts 82,670 rounds remained; 30,000 kilogrammes of powder; and 2,266,800 cartridges for rifles. "There are no signs of privation," wrote one correspondent. "The surrender is inexplicable." The town itself showed few signs of bombardment; and the only serious deficiency in stores was in meat and medical comforts. Then the sinister report came that the real weakness of the garrison was in the conduct of many of the regimental officers, who habitually applied for leave when attacks were expected, and left the command to sergeants. It was also declared that General Stoessel, far from having been coerced by his staff into surrender, had himself overridden their protests against capitulation. The real hero of the siege, it appeared from the same account, was not General Stoessel at all, but General Kondrachenko, who was killed by a shell on December 18th. After that calamity the spirits of the garrison never recovered. One of the Russian Admirals who was made prisoner at Port Arthur is responsible for this version of the facts, and his view was summarized in the following words: "It is difficult for a Russian officer to talk about the end. It was worse than a mistake, it was a disgrace. The fortress could easily have held out another month. We had food and ammunition sufficient for that period, and if Kondrachenko had been alive we should have held out for months longer. In Kondrachenko the garrison lost not only a leader, but the one man who had the power, through his tremendous earnestness, to control General Stoessel." [Sidenote: Discreditable Surrender] This view, startling and disconcerting as it is, was strongly confirmed by Dr. Morrison, the famous Peking correspondent of the London _Times_, to whom special facilities for inspecting Port Arthur were afforded immediately after the surrender had taken place. He was immensely impressed with the stupendous strength of the positions held by the Russians, and of the incredible heroism displayed in their capture, but he could find no explanation for the surrender. There were, he said, 25,000 able-bodied soldiers, and several hundred officers unscathed by wound or disease. Only 200 officers were killed all through the siege, and of those found in hospital a number were undoubted malingerers. As to the failure of ammunition, Dr. Morrison pointed out that thousands of rounds were fired off aimlessly for two days before the surrender, that thousands more were thrown into the harbor, and that yet a large quantity was found in store by the Japanese. The largest of the naval magazines was discovered "full to the roof" with all kinds of ammunition. Food was plentiful and the new town was uninjured by bombardment. "Those who have witnessed the condition of the fortress," Dr. Morrison summed up, "contrasting the evidence of their eyes with the astounding misrepresentations of General Stoessel, had their sympathy turned into derision, believing that no more discreditable surrender has been recorded in history." [Illustration: THE EVACUATION OF PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: The End of the Siege of Port Arthur] If it is difficult to disbelieve statements of this kind coming from several independent and well-accredited sources, it is painful to have to accept them. But whatever record leap to light, nothing can detract from the splendid gallantry and dogged tenacity of the Russian common soldiers who fought in a manner worthy of the greatest traditions of their race. Thanks to their qualities, such a redoubtable foe as the Japanese had been held at bay for six months, and his victory had only been obtained at a cost of life truly appalling. Officially the casualties of the besieging army were put at 55,000 from first to last; but this number was probably very largely exceeded. Heavy as was the price that had been paid, however, it was not too heavy for the advantage obtained. First there was the satisfaction to the national sentiment of pride in recapturing the fortress which, after having once been won by force of arms, had been filched away by diplomatic intrigue. Next there was the wresting from the enemy of the emblem of his dominion in the Far East, and the only base on which his naval power could rest. The loss of Port Arthur was to Russia not only the loss of a great fortress but the denial of all access to the sea. Finally, and most immediately important, was the capture in a more or less battered condition, of five battleships and two first-class cruisers, which might at any time have helped to turn the balance of naval power against Japan. An examination of the derelict warships revealed the fact that in spite of all the hammering they had received, four might possibly be repaired and added to the navy of Japan. The _Sevastopol_, the _Retvisan_, and the _Pobieda_ were injured beyond hope; but the _Peresviet_, the _Poltava_, the _Pallada_ and the _Bayan_ were possibly recoverable. So ended one of the most memorable sieges in the history of the world--to prove that, in spite of all the inventions of scientific warfare, no defences that can be constructed by man are impregnable to man when he unites, like the Japanese soldier, the qualities of fearlessness, discipline, patriotism and high-training. [Illustration: AFTER TWELVE MONTHS. The battle of the Sha-Ho, October 10 to 18, began by a Russian advance, but ended in a victory for Japan. The rival armies then settled down into winter quarters, and, save for an occasional skirmish, remained quiet until the end of January, when the Russians made a futile attempt to turn the Japanese left at Sandepu. The siege of Port Arthur, meantime, was carried on vigorously. High Hill (203 Metre Hill) was captured on November 30, East Keekwan Fort on December 18, and Erlungshan ten days later. On the last day of the year Sungshushan was taken, and on January 1 the fortress surrendered. The shaded portion shows the Japanese advance.] CHAPTER XIV. End of First Year--Changes of a Year--Year of Disaster for Russia--The Cause of the War--Japan Acts Swiftly--The Land Campaign--Battle of Liao-yang--Battle of Sha-ho River--The Naval Campaign--Vladivostock Ships Defeated--Siege of Port Arthur--Port Arthur Surrendered--A Campaign Analysis--Gaining Mastery of Sea--Japan's Main Ambition--The Rival Armies--The Cost in Men--The Cost in Dollars--The Cost in Ships--International Incidents--Lessons of the War--Chronology of the First Year of War. [Sidenote: End of First Year] At this point it may be well to pause long enough to review briefly and summarize what had been accomplished in a year of the most tremendous fighting the world has ever known. One year of the Japan-Russia War had gone into history. On February 5, 1904, diplomatic relations between the two nations came suddenly to an end. On February 7, Japan seized Masanpho, Korea, as a military base, and on February 8 and 9 were delivered Togo's memorable blows to the Russian Asiatic fleet at Port Arthur. Thus the curtain went up on what since has proved one of the world's greatest war dramas. The record had been one of uninterrupted triumph for Japan. The year had yielded a score of battles, of greater or less importance. The story of each had been defeat for Russia. Judged by the objects for which Japan entered the struggle, her task was practically complete. But Russia, humbled again and again, remained obdurate. The war was not ended and could not be ended, declared those who seemed to speak with authority, until the tide had turned and Russia was mistress of the East, as she believed herself a year before. What changes had followed Japan's victories, Russia's defeats? [Sidenote: Changes of a Year] A year before Russia in addition to her own vast Siberian territory across all of Asia to the Pacific, was lessee of Port Arthur and the extremity of the Liaotung promontory. Port Arthur had been rebuilt and fortified, and the investments plus the value of the fleet in its harbor was fully $270,000,000. Dalny had been built and fortified as an auxiliary harbor to accommodate developing commerce. Here $100,000,000 had been expended. From these vantage points Russia looked out over China and Japan and claimed dominance over the Orient. Her fleet stood sponsor for the claim. For the defenses of Port Arthur impregnability was claimed. It seemed that the Slav had completed a peaceable conquest and was immovably intrenched, invulnerable against war, irresistible for commercial gain. Further eastward her agents had penetrated to the northern boundaries of Korea. Slowly the Slav with his land-thirst was learning to covet the Hermit Kingdom. Commercial domination, political preponderance, each spreading in force and effectiveness, marked the first steps in this direction. [Sidenote: Year of Disaster for Russia] This was a year before. A year later Japan's flag was flying over Port Arthur and Dalny. Russia's fleet was destroyed. Her armies had been driven step by step northward 250 miles to the Sha-ho River. Japan was master in Korea. A protectorate had been firmly established, and Russia's dream of predominance there had probably been dissipated for all time. Japan's fleet was supreme in the Orient. With Russia's covetous eyes no longer looking out from Golden Hill toward Pekin, toward Seoul, toward Tokio, Japan had come into her own again. This was the situation as the first year of the war drew to a close. Japan's task, on the face of it, seemed accomplished. [Sidenote: The Cause of the War] Russia's aggressive policy in Manchuria and growing prestige in Korea alarmed Japan. Events which in February, 1904, culminated in war began ten years before when Port Arthur, won by Japan from China, was wrested away and returned to China by intervention of the Powers, notably Russia. The leasing of Port Arthur and vicinity to Russia and the granting of railroad concessions completed the wrong which rankled in the heart of Japan. Finally the Mikado's Government proposed to Russia a settlement by diplomacy of questions of paramountcy and trade privileges in Manchuria and Korea. Japan proffered recognition of paramountcy in Manchuria for Russia in return for preponderance by Japan in Korea. The "open door" in each territory was proposed with right of railroad extension through Korea to join the Manchurian and thence the Siberian roads. Russia refused to discuss her attitude in Manchuria and juggled with words relating to Korea. Negotiations ended when it became obvious that Japan's demands were not to be granted. [Sidenote: Japan Acts Swiftly] War was the alternative, and Japan acted swiftly. On February 8 and 9, at Port Arthur and Chemulpo, the Japanese navy dealt the first blows. Korea was invaded by an army at once, and the march to the Yalu was begun. Manchuria was invaded after the victory at the Yalu of May 1. A dual campaign from that moment was developed. The supreme object was the capture of Port Arthur. To facilitate that task the Russian armies in Manchuria were prevented from marching to the relief of the garrison there. Blow after blow was administered by the Japanese armies, culminating in the great battles of Liaoyang and the Sha-ho River, each a disastrous defeat for the Russians, each to be numbered among the greatest military struggles of history. [Sidenote: The Land Campaign] Chronologically, the battle succeeding that of the Yalu, May 1, was fought at Pitsewo, May 5. Here the second Japanese army defeated the only Russian force opposing an advance on Port Arthur, until at Nanshan Hill and Kinchow, May 26-27, the garrison of the fortress was encountered in its outermost position. After the defeat at Nanshan Hill the Russians withdrew to the outer perimeter of Port Arthur, giving up Dalny without a struggle. At Vafangow, June 14-15, the Russian General Stackelberg, who had been sent southward by General Kuropatkin to raise the siege at Port Arthur, was defeated. His retreat northward amounted practically to a rout. The Japanese victory, as succeeding events proved, completely isolated Port Arthur, its defenders and the besiegers, and the great drama of the siege went on without even an attempt at interference on the part of Russia's Manchurian army. The Japanese fought a brilliant campaign of a score of battles between June 17 and July 31, which compelled the concentration of the Russians at Liaoyang, and precipitated the great battle there. Motien Pass was taken by General Kukori on June 17. On June 30-31, after a tremendous struggle in the mountainous region southeast from Liaoyang, Yangze Pass, likewise, was captured. The Japanese armies, through these defiles poured into the vast basin drained by the Liao River, and at Haicheng dealt Kuropatkin a severe blow, which drove his lines northward to Liaoyang and compelled the evacuation of Niuchwang. [Sidenote: Battle of Liaoyang] Haichang was a prelude to Liaoyang. After fierce fighting, the actual struggle before this strongly fortified position began on August 25. The Japanese army numbered 200,000 men against a probable 165,000 Russians. Generals Oku and Nodzu delivered fierce and incessant frontal attacks from the south, while General Kuroki made a wide turning movement north to encircle Kuropatkin and to cut off his retreat to Mukden. The Russian General ultimately was compelled to meet this turning movement by withdrawing his entire army across the Taitse River, abandoning Liaoyang to the Japanese. General Kuroki was checked and the Russian army was extricated from a grave predicament in a masterly manner after a memorable retreat and rearguard battle of more than fifty miles. The battle had been designed as a crushing blow to the Russians, and would have proved such had Kuroki's turning movement been completely successful. As it turned out the Japanese had won a costly but indecisive victory. The Japanese losses are estimated at 30,000 men. The Russian losses were about 20,000 men. [Sidenote: Battle of Sha-ho River] General Kuropatkin fell back to Mukden and there rested and reinforced his army. On October 4, he began a forward movement against the Japanese, which resulted in a new disaster to his army, the battle of Sha-ho River, October 8-18. The result of this long, sanguinary struggle was again highly indecisive. The Russian advance was checked at the Yentai mines, and thereafter Kuropatkin was forced step by step to the Sha-ho River. After ten days of battle human endurance reached its limit. Almost face to face, the exhausted armies halted. Subsequently the opposing lines stretched out along a line, generally northeast-southwest, for a distance of forty-five miles. The Russian army was reinforced to about 250,000 men, while the Japanese army numbered perhaps 300,000 men with reinforcements from Japan and from Port Arthur. [Sidenote: The Naval Campaign] The opening of the war found the effective ships of Russia's Asiatic fleet divided among Port Arthur, Vladivostock and Chemulpo. In the battle of Chemulpo, February 8-9, the _Variag_ and _Korietz_ were sunk, narrowing naval interest to Port Arthur and Vladivostock. On August 10 was fought the greatest naval battle of the war. The Russian fleet off Port Arthur was defeated and dispersed, and Vice-Admiral Witoft was killed on the bridge of the _Czarevitch_. The fragment of the fleet which returned to Port Arthur never again assumed the aggressive, while from that date until the surrender of the fortress Togo's squadron had only blockade duty. Other naval operations there consisted of desperate dashes to the harbor entrance by Japan's smaller craft and the sinking of merchant ships in the entrance to the harbor. A sortie by Admiral Makaroff resulted only in the flight of the Russians to port without giving battle. The disaster to the _Petropavlovsk_ happened just as the flag ship sped under the guns of Tiger's Tail and Golden Hill. Japanese credited the destruction of the ship to their mine-laying operations. [Illustration: COSSACKS IN RETREAT AFTER A RECONNAISSANCE NEAR LIAO-YANG.] [Sidenote: Vladivostock Ships Defeated] The Vladivostock squadron was defeated August 14 in the Sea of Japan. The cruiser _Rurik_ was sunk. The two other ships of the squadron ultimately reached Vladivostock riddled with shells. Repairs were said to have been completed. A renewal of the naval campaign would probably involve an attack on the sole survivors of the Russian fleet. A final naval engagement was the sinking of the cruiser _Novik_, of the Port Arthur Squadron, which escaped after the battle of August 10. Cruisers of Kamimura's squadron overtook her off Kamchatka, and the ship was beached there, a complete wreck after a fourteen hours' battle. The last act of the naval campaign was the destruction of the Russian battleship _Sevastopol_ outside the harbor of Port Arthur. The _Sevastopol_ took refuge under the Tiger's Tail. Repeated dashes were made by Japanese torpedo boat flotillas and the ship was riddled. Her final destruction, however, was accomplished by the Russians, who mined the ship to prevent possibility of salvage on the fall of Port Arthur. [Sidenote: Siege of Port Arthur] Japan's greatest and only decisive achievement had been the taking of Port Arthur. The investment and actual opening of the siege began May 30, when the Japanese occupied Dalny, with their lines spreading westward to Louisa Bay, completely across the Liao-tung Peninsula. Between May 30 and November 30 the Japanese were engaged in taking position from which the attack on the main defenses of the fortress could be directed. It was tedious work. Probably between 30,000 and 40,000 Japanese lives were sacrificed. In the meantime Fort Kuropatkin, an outer defense north of the Urlung Mountain group of forts, had been captured, while on the west the Japanese, after tremendous efforts, had stormed and taken 203-Metre Hill. The final assault was delivered from saps which had been driven through limestone, up the steep slopes of the hill, a task of enormous difficulty which compelled the victors to share laurels with the engineers who at prodigious cost in men and labor made the assault possible. The capture of 203-Meter Hill gave the Japanese an observatory which looked down on most of Port Arthur. Their artillery, largely 11-inch howitzers, no longer fired at random. Sighting was scientifically directed from the vantage point. Within a week the entire Russian fleet had been destroyed and the whole city lay at the mercy of the irresistible 11-inch shells flung over the mountains with unerring aim. From Fort Kuropatkin on the north the miner and sapper honeycombed the mountain sides with zig-zag trenches, which inched toward the crests, slowly, indeed, but surely. Outer works, one after the other, fell, and higher and higher the Japanese lines crept upward toward the fort-crowned summits. The climax came December 30. Vast mines under the main Urlungshan fort were fired. Before the smoke cleared the Japanese were flinging themselves over the shattered walls. In one grand climax to all the bloody work of the siege they annihilated the defenders of the fort and finally flung their flag from its battlements. With Urlungshan on the north and 203-Metre Hill on the west in their hands, Port Arthur lay completely at the mercy of the besiegers. The entire northeastern groups of forts fell in a day. [Sidenote: Port Arthur Surrendered] Then came the end. On January 2, General Stoessel surrendered Port Arthur to General Nogi. The city, forts and fleet, represented a value of $270,000,000. The cost of the siege to Japan was $100,000,000. More than 30,000 men were killed, while 70,000 who fell, wounded, increased Japan's casualties to 100,000 men. Russia's original garrison of 38,000 men was cut down during the eight months by 11,500 killed and 17,500 wounded. The terms of the surrender were deemed liberal. All officers were offered freedom in return for their parole. Others were taken to Japan as prisoners of war. [Sidenote: A Campaign Analysis] Following the movements of the Japanese armies and fleets, it was easy to recognize the objects in view from the start, and to see that the campaign had been conducted with singular fidelity to the plan adopted at the beginning. The results were quite as complete as could reasonably have been looked for. There can be no doubt that a year before Russia had no serious thought of war; her policy was clearly one of bluff and diplomatic evasion and delay. With great foresight the Japanese Government had seen that war was inevitable and the sooner it came the better would be the position of Japan in the struggle for supremacy in the East. Her preparations had been made as carefully and completely as those of Bismarck when he chose his time to force war upon Louis Napoleon; and she moved with even greater celerity and skill than the Germans showed in the attack upon France. [Sidenote: Gaining Mastery of Sea] Japan's initial problem was to gain the mastery of the sea at the outset as an absolute essential; without it the employment of land forces would either be impossible or carried on at an enormous and perhaps fatal risk in the transportation of troops from the Japanese islands to the mainland Asia, or in supplying and reinforcing them when landed. The sea must be cleared of hostile warships before the war could really begin; and the complete success with which this problem was solved at surprisingly small cost rivals the brilliant achievements of the British navy which deprived the first Napoleon of any chance of success in war outside the European mainland, ruined his campaign in Egypt and made hopeless an attack upon the British Islands. [Sidenote: Japan's Main Ambition] Reviewing the results of the whole campaign, we can see that the main objective was the capture of Port Arthur; this largely from the military point of view, still more largely from the standpoint of sentiment, national pride, prestige with the world at large, and from considerations of statecraft. Japan had taken Port Arthur once before, from China, and was obliged to relinquish it to Russia. Its recapture this time no doubt meant more to the Mikado's subjects than any other result of the war; whatever else might happen, that was triumph enough. To the outside world Japan could hardly present a more striking proof of her prowess than the reduction of this fortress supposed to be impregnable; while in the final settlement at the end of the war its possession would mean an immensely important diplomatic point of vantage. From the strictly military viewpoint, the loss of Port Arthur took away from Russia the only hope of an effective naval base to which her Baltic fleet could safely resort, and from which she might hope to rebuild her shattered sea power. Vladivostock being manifestly ineffective, from its position to the north of Japan, as well as because it is ice-bound during a great part of the year. Oyama's campaign is thus seen to have been chiefly to give General Nogi a free hand at Port Arthur, keeping Kuropatkin well away from the chance of relieving the fortress. If the Russian army could be destroyed or seriously crippled, so much the better; but Oyama had evidently been quite content to take no risk of disaster to himself by trying to do too much. This seems to explain the apparent slowness and the ineffectiveness of his movements at times. He seems to have been satisfied to keep Kuropatkin simply in a position where he could do nothing to raise the siege of Port Arthur. The avowed purpose of Japan in beginning war was simply to drive Russia out of the Chinese dominions, which it had agreed to evacuate in the autumn of 1903, but had failed to carry out the agreement. The first year of war ended with the accomplishment of that purpose in as forward a state as could have been reasonably expected. [Sidenote: The Rival Armies] It is estimated that during the year Japan in all has had 490,000 fighting men in her armies and navy. Of these 100,000 invested, besieged and captured Port Arthur. Three hundred thousand made up the armies in Manchuria. Sixty thousand are along lines of communication and in garrison at strategic points, while naval forces at bases and with the fleets numbered about 30,000. On land Japan's united armies were commanded by Field Marshal Marquis Oyama, while right, centre and left--each a completely organized army--were commanded respectively by Generals Kuroki, Nodzu and Oku. The Port Arthur army, then dwindled from 100,000 men to a mere garrison and police force, was commanded by General Nogi. The united Russian armies were commanded by General Kuropatkin. Prominent divisional leaders were Generals Stakelberg, Gripenberg, Linevitch and Mistchenko, the latter commanding the Cossack forces. Port Arthur was defended by General Stoessel, then homeward bound on parole to undergo court-martial, though commanding the world's admiration for the defense of Port Arthur. At sea Admiral Togo and Vice-Admiral Kamimura had led the Japanese fleets to uninterrupted victory. Russia's naval commanders had been Vice-Admirals Makaroff, Wirenius and Witzhdoft, while Rear Admiral Rozndestvensky commanded the Baltic squadron. [Sidenote: The Cost in Men] The year's fighting had been enormously costly in men, and only estimates could be given. The total number of killed was estimated at 125,000, of whom 65,000 were Japanese and 60,000 were Russians. The wounded numbered approximately 265,000, and with the missing the total casualties were swelled to 400,000 men. Of the wounded a very large percentage recovered. The Japanese losses exceeded the Russian, particularly at Port Arthur and in the battle of Liaoyang, the Russians being protected by fortifications which the Japanese attacked from the open. At the battle of the Sha-ho River the casualties were nearly even, the armies fighting under the same conditions. The accuracy of the Japanese artillery and rifle fire is accountable for the fact that the Russian loss is not far less, proportionately. Of casualties among her more prominent leaders, Japan has been remarkably free, while Russia has suffered heavily. Among her fallen leaders were Generals Rutkozsky, Krondrachenko, said to have been the real defender of Port Arthur, and General Count Kellar. Admiral Makaroff went down with the _Petropavlovsk_ at the entrance to the harbor of Port Arthur; Admiral Witoft was killed on his flagship in the naval battle of August 10. A loss in which all the world shared was that of the Artist Vassili Verestchagin, who perished with Makaroff on the _Petropavlovsk_. [Sidenote: The Cost in Dollars] The actual outlay of both nations for the first year of the war was about $800,000,000. Russian expenses were $500,000,000 and Japan's $350,000,000. To Russia's losses must be added the value of fortifications, property of all kinds, stores and munitions captured by Japan at Port Arthur, Dalny, Niuchwang, Haicheng and Liao-yang. These represent an outlay of approximately $500,000,000, in which is included the value of the ships destroyed in the harbor of Port Arthur. Russia's provisions for war expenses to the end of 1905 comprehended a total expenditure of $850,000,000. Japan's total outlay for two years was estimated to fall $200,000,000 below that figure. Both countries had negotiated foreign loans running from seven to twenty-five years, so that another generation would still feel the financial burden of the war then in progress. [Sidenote: The Cost in Ships] The war had spelled complete disaster for Russia's Asiatic fleet except for two patched ships of problematical effectiveness then at Vladivostock. Russia had lost thirty-five vessels of war of all classes. Of these the chief were: Battleships--_Petropavlovsk_, destroyed by mine at Port Arthur; _Retvisan_, _Pobieda_, _Poltava_, and _Peresviet_, sunk by guns from 203-Metre Hill; _Czarevitch_, disarmed at Shanghai; _Sevastopol_, blown up by the Russians at the fall of Port Arthur. Cruisers--_Boyarin_, _Bayan_, _Pallada_, _Varyag_, _Rurik_, _Rossia_, _Lena_, _Novik_, _Giliak_, _Bogatyr_, sunk, beached or destroyed; _Askold_, _Diana_, _Gromboi_, disarmed in Chinese ports. Gunboats, etc.--_Korietz_ and _Yenesei_ and twelve others including torpedo boats and destroyers, destroyed. Japan's losses in battle were confined to torpedo-boats and torpedo-boat destroyers, sixteen of such craft having been destroyed in attacks on Port Arthur. The battleship _Hatsuse_ was sunk, as were also the cruisers _Usiyako_, _Saiyen_ and _Yoshino_. Three transports were sunk by ships of the Vladivostock squadron. [Sidenote: International Incidents] On the outbreak of the war Mr. Hay, Secretary of State, proposed to the Powers that, jointly, they agree to guarantee the neutrality of China and call upon the belligerents to restrict the war zone accordingly. Counter charges of violations had been made by Russia and Japan. It was conceded that China had earnestly striven to fulfil her obligations under trying circumstances. On July 17 Russian auxiliary cruisers stopped, searched and seized neutral ships in the Red Sea, precipitating a grave crisis in which Great Britain took a conspicuous part. On representations of the British Foreign Office, Russia released captive ships and recalled the ships. The fact that they had traversed the Dardanelles for a warlike purpose was the basis of the protest. On October 22, the Russian Baltic fleet, passing through the North Sea en route to the Indian Ocean, fired on the Hull fishing fleet. Two men were killed, a number were wounded and one trawler was sunk. [Illustration: THE GARRISON OF PORT ARTHUR LEAVING THE FORTRESS.] The firing was alleged to have resulted from an attack on the Russian ships by Japanese torpedo-boats. After a week, in which war seemed certain, the question of culpability was entrusted by consent of both Governments to an international commission, to sit at Paris. A German vessel was also fired on by the Russian fleet, but Germany accepted Russian explanations and the owners were indemnified. [Sidenote: Lessons of the War] Some of the practical lessons gleaned from the actual warfare were these: (1) That torpedo-boats were craft of immense possibilities, capable of even greater development. (2) That the destroyer had proved a failure; of the 24 vessels of this type in and before Port Arthur not one made a hit. (3) That battleships were necessary to successful naval warfare. (4) That "team work" in armies, as exemplified in the Japanese movements, was a matter of primary importance. (5) That short range fighting was decidedly not a thing of the past, as had been believed. (6) That the use of hand grenades promised to introduce a new and particularly horrid form of attack and defense. (7) That modern fortifications were impregnable to direct assault, however effective a preliminary bombardment. (8) That the success or failure of sieges of modernly fortified positions depended upon the effectiveness of the engineer, miner and sapper. (9) That the floating mine was an instrument of destruction against which the most powerful ship was helpless. (10) Wounds inflicted by modern arms heal readily. While the war had demonstrated anew that one man in five was killed in battle, it had shown that an amazing proportion of the wounded were soon back on the firing line. The clean wound of the steel rifle projectile yielded to treatment even when vital organs were pierced. The medical records of the war were among its most notable features. [Sidenote: Chronology of First Year of War] February 5--Japanese and Russian representatives at St. Petersburg and Tokio given their passports. February 7--Japanese seize Masanpho, Korea as a troop base. February 8-9--_Varyag_ and _Korietz_ destroyed in Chemulpo harbor, and Togo attacks Port Arthur fleet. February 10--Czar declares war. Japanese occupy Seoul. February 11--Japan declares war. The United States announces neutrality. February 12--Sinking of the Russian mineboat _Yenesei_; 96 lives lost March 1--Kamimura's squadron bombards Vladivostock. March 27--Kuropatkin reaches Mukden. Japanese take Chongu. May 1--Kuroki crosses the Yalu, driving back Sassulitch. May 4--Japanese take Feng-hwang-cheng. May 5--Japanese land at Pitsewo and begin to invest Port Arthur. May 11--Russians evacuate Dalny, destroying the town. May 26-27--Battles of Nanshan Hill and Kinchow; loss, 5130. May 30--Japanese occupy Port Dalny. June 14-15--Oku defeats Stackleberg at Vafangow; loss, 11,000. June 17--Battle of Motien Pass; Russians driven back. June 18--Japanese take Kinsan Heights. June 30-31--Battle of Haicheng; loss, 5700. July 17--Russian cruisers seize neutral vessels in the Red Sea. July 25--Russian forces driven out of Niuchwang. July 31--Kuroki wins the Yangze Pass; General Count Keller killed. August 10--Sorties from Port Arthur harbor. Russian fleet dispersed and in part destroyed. Vice Admiral Witoft killed. August 14--Kamimura defeats Vladivostock squadron; _Rurik_ sunk. August 17--Stoessel refuses to surrender Port Arthur. August 30-September 4--Japanese, under Oyama, defeat Kuropatkin at Liao-yang; 365,000 men engaged; loss, 35,000. September 11--Baltic fleet sails from Cronstadt under Rozhdestvensky. October 8-18--Kuroki defeats Kuropatkin at Sha-ho River. Total casualties, 61,000, with 23,000 killed. October 20--Armies go into winter quarters in and before Mukden. October 25--Kuropatkin replaces Alexeieff in supreme command. October 22--"The Doggerbank outrage". Two British fishermen killed. November 30--Japanese take 203-Metre Hill by storm, losing 12,000. December 30--Japanese capture Urlungshan fort. January 2--Stoessel surrenders Port Arthur to Nogi. The siege of Port Arthur takes high rank in the history of all war. Its capture was the most brilliant achievement of Japanese arms, and its defense perhaps the most glorious page in Russian annals. Invested on May 5, 1904, the fortress held out till failing ammunition forced the surrender of January 2, 1905--242 days. Direct attacks opened on August 19. City, fort and fleet have been valued at $270,000,000; all were destroyed, at a cost to the besiegers of $100,000,000 and more than 30,000 lives; fully 70,000 Japanese were wounded in the various attacks. CHAPTER XV. After Port Arthur--Raids in Manchuria--The Battle of Sandepu--Kuropatkin Asks for Reinforcements--The North Sea Inquiry. [Sidenote: After Port Arthur] With the fall of Port Arthur, the Russo-Japanese War entered upon an entirely new phase. Although the situation of the gigantic armies that faced one another across the Sha-ho River remained unchanged, the strategic problems to be solved by their instrumentality were in effect transformed. The struggle for the possession of the great naval fortress had operated as a vitiating factor in the military counsels of both belligerents. Japan had sacrificed between 50,000 and 100,000 of her best soldiers in bringing the six months' siege to a triumphant issue, and in doing so had, by dividing her armies, moreover, forfeited the opportunity of dealing a crushing blow at her adversary. The magnificent infantry that broke themselves in so many vain assaults upon the fortifications of Port Arthur might have enabled Oyama to turn the Russian retreat at Liao-yang into a rout, or to drive the Russians, after the battle of the Sha-ho, back beyond Mukden. On the other hand, Kuropatkin had found himself hampered at every turn by the instructions imposed on him from St. Petersburg to attempt the relief of the beleaguered fortress, by which was symbolized so much of the pride and prestige of the Russian Empire. In the game of chess a strong player, to handicap himself against a weaker, will sometimes undertake to mate with a certain piece. If the piece is lost, the game is lost, and therefore the player's defence is awkwardly compromised by being divided in aim--between protecting his vital piece and at the same time shielding his king from checkmate. Very similar was the task imposed on the unhappy generalissimo of the Czar, who, while trying to baffle Oyama's vigorous combination, had to keep one eye always on Port Arthur. The fall of Port Arthur at least set free both combatants from a distracting preoccupation, and to that degree it was a strength to either side. But its ulterior effects were much less evenly balanced. The capture of Port Arthur at one stroke deprived Russian arms of the possibility of complete triumph, whatever issue future military operations might have; and it secured Japan from the last lingering fear of disastrous defeat. When the remnant of the once powerful Pacific Squadron fell into the hands of the Mikado's soldiers, Russia's last hope of recovering, during the present war, the command of the sea expired utterly; and without the command of the sea, Kuropatkin's boast of "settling the terms of peace at Tokio" could obviously never be fulfilled. Even if invincible armies swept Oyama out of Manchuria, out of Liao-tung Peninsula, and out of Korea itself, there would still be the impassable Straits of Korea to render the victory barren and to impose their inexorable "Thus far and no further". As a matter of fact it became evident to the whole world that, with Japan supreme by sea, the continuance of the war would only be a costly futility for Russia, in which she had everything to lose and nothing to gain--a struggle in which she was exhausting herself to no possible purpose. Her adversary had already won the odd-trick, and the only doubt that remained to be solved was how near she would get to making grand slam. But the blind arrogance and reckless folly which had precipitated Russia into a wanton war for which she was utterly unprepared, were still obdurate to conviction even by the logic of such disastrous events. Nothing is more stubborn than wounded pride, or more blind than baffled vanity. The more desperate the situation, the more perversely bent became the bureaucracy of Russia in prolonging it, and in refusing to recognize facts which impeached the competence and sagacity of the existing régime. Already the strain of maintaining the army in Manchuria had begun to have its effect at home in widespread distress and growing discontent among the peasant and industrial classes. The characteristic remedy of the governing clique was to attempt not a cure, but a diversion. Kuropatkin was ordered to renew his activity and to achieve something that could be represented as a victory at any cost. [Illustration: THE BAMBOO GUN AT PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: Raids in Manchuria] Since the last great battle in October--the battle of the Sha-ho, when Kuropatkin's ill-advised offensive had been converted into a perilous retreat that almost degenerated into disaster--the two opposing armies had been practically quiescent. Before they had either recovered from the exhaustion of their last tremendous struggle--before their awful losses could be repaired and their depleted stores and supplies could be replenished--the inexorable grasp of the Manchurian winter had fallen upon them and frozen them into immobility. While the last critical acts in the siege of Port Arthur were being enacted, the troops of Oyama and Kuropatkin were occupied only in maintaining a jealous vigilance on each other, and in digging themselves into their winter quarters. In a climate that is almost Arctic in its severity, where the temperature is regularly for weeks and months together 30 and 40 degrees below freezing-point, active campaigning would be impossible, even if the deep snow under which the face of the country is buried did not make transport impossible. Each army proceeded to entrench itself securely and to construct huts or dig out shelters in the ground in which the troops could find it possible to sustain life. The sufferings of the devoted soldiers during these months of inaction must have been intense, and on both sides the roll of casualties from exposure and frost-bite was appalling. Week after week went by without any incident other than trifling affairs of outposts being recorded in the meagre dispatches given to the world by the authorities at Tokio and St. Petersburg. It has always been the Russian habit, however, to cloak failure in essentials by proclaiming success in trifles; and from General Kuropatkin came a steady trickle of trivial information about brushes between patrols and pickets, wherein the Japanese were always worsted, with the loss of a horse and rifle, or perhaps even of a cooking-stove. But on the very day that the negotiations for the surrender of Port Arthur were opened, a serious interruption to the long inactivity on the Sha-ho occurred. The Russians attempted for the first time a raid on the Japanese line of communications. It was an attempt that an enterprising enemy would have made long before; for it is to be remembered that every mile of the Japanese advance from the sea rendered them increasingly dependent on the railway which they had taken from the Russians. Their army on the Sha-ho was, roughly speaking, more than one hundred miles from the nearest sea-base, Niuchwang; and any interruption to that vulnerable line of communications must inflict much inconvenience at least on Marshal Oyama. The Russians, of course, were exposed to the same risk, and the long line between Mukden and Harbin had, in fact, frequently been cut by the Chunchuses--roving bands of fierce native horsemen, whose hatred for the Muscovite invader had proved a valuable auxiliary to the Japanese. Their activity, in many cases organized and directed by Japanese officers, compelled Kuropatkin to guard jealously every mile of the railway in his rear, and especially every bridge and culvert, and this necessity of maintaining large forces on the lines of communication seriously detracted from the effective strength of his armies in the field. The Russians' idea of giving their enemy tit-tat was at first merely tentative, however. A couple of officers, practically unattended, managed to make their way southward almost as far as Hai-cheng, which is itself some forty or fifty miles south of Liao-yang. There they succeeded in blowing up a culvert and tearing up some yards of railway line--damage which, though not serious in itself, was enough to encourage similar attempts on a larger scale. Kuropatkin knew that the bulk of the army which had been engaged in the siege of Port Arthur was about to be entrained northward, and that with these reinforcements for Oyama were to go the great siege trains which had been employed in battering the ships and fortifications of the captured fortress into submission. To cut off these reinforcements, perhaps to capture train-loads of men and destroy some of the enemy's most formidable artillery, would evidently be a great counter-stroke to the effect produced by the fall of Port Arthur; and so a great Cossack raid was authorized on the Japanese lines of communication. The scheme was admirably conceived and organized, and it achieved at least the first and most important condition of success--namely, a complete surprise. At the outbreak of the war it was predicted in many quarters that what must certainly turn the scale in favor of the Russian arms was Russia's overwhelming superiority in cavalry. The experience of the Boer War had left fresh in every mind the incalculable value of mobility. Now Russia, in her hordes of Cossack horse, possessed a cavalry which had the reputation of being unique in the world. "Other countries have infantry, artillery and cavalry; but Russia is alone in possessing Cossacks," said one distinguished general shortly after the outbreak of hostilities. But as the campaign progressed, critics began to revise their judgments. The terrible Cossack horsemen, for some reason or other, failed to play any considerable part in events. They attempted a raid in Korea from the northeast, but without any result, and in the subsequent fighting they found no opportunity for asserting themselves. The campaign was an infantry and artillery campaign entirely; and the notorious weakness of the Japanese army in cavalry was no impediment to their victorious advance. The war in Manchuria proved in fact that the conditions of the war in South Africa had been peculiar and exceptional. But at last the Cossacks were to be given an opportunity of showing their mettle. On January 8th a force of 6,000 Cossacks under General Mistchenko crossed the Hun-ho and began to march rapidly southwards. This formidable force, composed of three brigades, was accompanied by six batteries of light artillery, and in its organization everything had been done to give to it the _maximum_ of mobility. The Hun-ho, which Mistchenko's division crossed immediately after setting out, is a tributary of the Liao River, into which it flows some forty or fifty miles above Niuchwang. While the course of the Liao is roughly due north, that of the Hun is northeast, or almost directly in the line from Mukden to Niuchwang. The severity of the weather had moderated and was most favorable for the movement of such a great body of mounted men, who swept down the vast Liao plain on a front extending for five miles. By the second night Mistchenko's three brigades had reached the confluence of the Liao and the Hun, and there they made the first contact with the enemy. A Japanese convoy was captured, but the escort succeeded in making its escape, and from that moment it was impossible to conceal knowledge of the movement from the enemy. With their characteristic thoroughness--which throughout this war has left nothing unforeseen and nothing unprovided for--the Japanese had organized a plan for giving instant warning of a raid on the line to the troops guarding all the depots and the lines of communication, in case of any surprise attack such as that devised by Mistchenko. Great beacon fires had been laid at intervals up and down the country, and the kindling of one of these--the signal of approaching danger--was sufficient to set the whole plain from Niuchwang to Liao-yang ablaze with warning flame. No sooner had the Cossacks made their first capture than a house in the village which they had entered suddenly began to emit heavy columns of black smoke, followed by leaping tongues of fire; and so well had the house been filled with combustibles, that every effort to extinguish the fire was vain. Nor had the portent been unobserved. As soon as darkness closed on the scene, the horizon north, south and east was illuminated with the answerable flash of innumerable beacons that passed on from one to another the tidings of the enemy's approach. All hope of surprise being now at an end, the only resource left was to strike swiftly before troops could be hurried down from the front to the threatened points on the railway. Mistchenko's division separated into three bodies--one moving due south towards Niuchwang, another making due east for the railway above Haicheng, and the third striking southeast towards Tashichao, where the branch-line from Niuchwang meets the main line running north and south. The third body almost immediately encountered a force of Chunchuses, 500 strong, armed with Mausers and led by Japanese officers. This force, though overwhelmingly outnumbered, fought with desperate bravery until they were cut to pieces. At another village, held by 500 Japanese infantry, the raiders again encountered a stubborn resistance which they could not overcome; but they swept on southwards, and reached Old Niuchwang at noon on January 11th. Here some 50 Japanese soldiers, the only garrison, shut themselves in a house, and, refusing to surrender, held their own. But they could not prevent the enemy from wreaking destruction on the stores which had been accumulated in the town; and many large transports were burnt. Yinkow, or the port of Niuchwang, had for many months been the principal base of supplies for Oyama's army, as being the seaport nearest to the front, and to work havoc at this vital depot was the principal purpose of Mistchenko's raid. On January 12th the Cossacks approached Yinkow Station, where army stores of enormous value had been accumulated, and opened fire with their six batteries. But the promptitude of the Japanese commanders foiled the attack at this critical point. In spite of the cutting of the line north and south of Hai-cheng, reinforcements had been got through, and the attack on Yinkow Station was resisted by 1,000 riflemen, well entrenched. Against their accurate and well-sustained fire Mistchenko's Cossacks, in spite of artillery support, could make no headway; and as the casualty list mounted up, the Russian general was obliged to draw off, lest the mobility of his retreat should be encumbered by too many wounded. Some damage was done to the station buildings, but it was trivial compared with that which the raiders had set out to effect; and from that moment the only concern of Mistchenko was how to make good his escape from the forces that were rapidly concentrating upon his line of retreat. He had failed not only to destroy the stores of the enemy, but even to inflict any serious damage on the railway line. The boast of his detachments detailed for the latter purpose that they had torn up 600 yards of line north of Hai-cheng, and had blown up the bridge at Tashichao, were obvious exaggerations; or it would not have been possible for the Japanese to move down the reinforcements that secured the repulse of the attack on Yinkow Station. With the whole country roused against him, Mistchenko, encumbered as he was with many wounded, might have found it difficult to break back over the 80 or 100 miles to be traversed before he could count himself in safety. His horses and men were both more or less exhausted with the five days' continuous marching and fighting; but an easy and convenient resource was open to him by simply invading and passing through neutral Chinese territory. On the outbreak of the war, the belligerents, at the instigation of the Powers, led by the United States, had agreed to respect absolutely the neutrality of China, and to confine military operations to the left or eastern side of the great Liao River. But necessity knows no law, and Mistchenko, finding that his road northward from Niuchwang was blocked by a strong force detached by Oku for the purpose of intercepting his retreat, promptly wheeled westward and crossed the Liao River some miles below its junction with the Hun-ho. Thenceforth his progress was easy. It was as if a football player were to run down the field behind the touch-lines in order to reach the goal. The flagrancy of the stratagem would have called for less remark if Russia had not chosen this precise moment to address representations to the Powers complaining of acts done by the Japanese in violation of China's neutrality. As it was, the casualties suffered were heavy--at least 500 all told--and though it was ostentatiously announced from St. Petersburg that such raids would in future be of frequent occurrence, this descent upon Niuchwang remained a solitary as well as a barren enterprise. [Sidenote: The Battle of Sandepu] But again the inactivity of the armies was to be broken before the month of January had come to an end. The second Manchurian army, the command of which had been committed to General Gripenberg, had now been brought up to strength, and almost immediately proceeded to put itself in evidence. On the 25th General Kuropatkin telegraphed to the Czar announcing briefly two facts--that the offensive had been begun against the enemy on the right (or western) flank; and that the thermometer registered 16 degrees of frost. The full significance of this message only appeared a few days later, when it was revealed that an attempt in force was being made to turn the Japanese left. The main objective of the Russian attack was the village of Sandepu, the main northwest position of the Japanese left army. It will be remembered that after the battle of Yentai or the Sha-ho, which took place in October, the Japanese were left holding a front of fifty miles or more along the south bank of the Sha-ho, a tributary to the Hun-ho, running roughly due east and west at a distance of ten or fifteen miles south of Mukden. The Russian position faced the Japanese on the other bank of the Sha-ho, and then inclined away northwest in the direction of Hsinmintun, a Chinese town on the west bank of the Liao River, from which the Russian army had for a long time been drawing large supplies, in contempt of the neutrality of China. Sandepu is over thirty miles south of Mukden, and lies in the angle made by the Hun River with the railway. It consists of some hundred houses, or farmsteads, each surrounded by high walls of sun-dried bricks, about three feet thick. Loop-holed for musketry, these walls, form an admirable defence, especially as the surrounding country is quite open and flat. But at this season of the year, the Hun-ho, which is a natural defence to the flank of an army resting on Sandepu, is frozen over to a thickness of several feet, and can be safely crossed both by men and transport. The Russians, 85,000 strong, and with no less than 350 guns, moved southwards down the right bank of the Hun-ho until they reached a point a few miles southwest of Sandepu, and there they crossed the frozen river and occupied two villages in which the Japanese had stationed outposts. On the 26th the Russians, who had at the same time crossed the Hun at Chang-tau, again advanced, encountering a steadily increasing resistance and seized after a fierce fight the village of Sha-ho-pu, a few miles northeast of Sandepu, and from that moment the action became general. The capture of Sandepu was essential to any attempt to roll up the Japanese left, and to this object the Russian forces now set themselves with fierce determination. On January 27th, after giving an account of much promiscuous fighting, General Kuropatkin announced to the Czar that "in the evening, after a desperate fight, our troops having, with the help of the sappers, surmounted all artificial obstacles entered the village of Sandepu, which is large and strongly entrenched." Unfortunately, however, for the triumph of the Russian arms, this announcement proved to be premature--or rather to be an incomplete version of the actual fact. The Russian troops entered Sandepu only to be driven back after a desperate struggle; and the indomitable Japanese infantrymen who manned the loop-holed walls of the hamlet were never dislodged from their position. This successful stand was the turning point of the battle. It checked the flank movement of the Russians and gave Oku time to bring up his reinforcements and deliver his counter-stroke. The Russian attack had been from the west and northwest, the object being to envelop the Japanese extreme left. The movement was met by an extension of the Japanese left, which in turn threatened to outflank the outflankers. On the southwest of Sandepu the Russians were driven back along the line of the Hun-ho, and soon the battle centred about the village of Heikautai, a few miles southwest of Sandepu. That this was no mere affair of outposts may be gathered from the fact that the Russian force was made up of two divisions of the Eighth Army Corps, two brigades of Russo-European Rifles, one division of the Tenth Army Corps, part of a division of reserve infantry, and part of the First Siberian Army Corps, and a large force of Cossacks under Mistchenko. On the 27th and 28th, the fighting became desperately fierce and after the Japanese had succeeded in carrying Heikautai and the surrounding positions, they were exposed to repeated night attacks before the Russians at last made up their minds to accept defeat. From Russian sources came the usually inconsistent story--a story in which a long series of unbroken successes culminated inexplicably in an admission of failure and retreat. It now appeared that far from capturing Sandepu, the Russian column that attacked that place lost twenty-four officers and 1,600 men killed and wounded by coming unexpecedly upon "a triple row of artificial obstacles" on the ground swept by artillery and machine-gun fire which the Russian gunners could not subdue. This intelligence came as a severe disappointment to the friends of Russia, who had begun to believe that the tide of war had at last begun to turn, and that Russian arms were about to secure their first victory. Eager strategists in St. Petersburg pointed out that Sandepu was only twenty or thirty miles from Liao-yang, and that its retention would be such a serious menace to the Japanese line of retreat that the evacuation of the whole position on the Sha-ho would be a necessity. Alas! while these fascinating speculations were being indulged in, the Russian Army of the right was already in full retreat, and was indeed suffering appalling losses in the effort to extricate itself from the toils of the enemy. The fighting round Heikautai lasted five days, and the issue almost to the last hung in doubt. The capture of Heikautai had become necessary to the security of the Japanese position, but repeated attacks on it had been repulsed. The spirit in which the emergency was met is revealed in the laconic words of Marshal Oyama's dispatch. "Our object had not been attained, so I encouraged all the columns to make night attacks. All the columns of the attacking parties expected annihilation. We attempted several attack movements, but suffered heavily from the enemy's artillery, and especially from the machine-guns, but all the columns continued the attack with all their might. The enemy was unable to withstand our vigorous attack, and began to retreat at half past five in the morning. Our forces charging into Heikautai, occupied the place firmly and entirely by half past nine in the morning." The net result of the battle was to give the Japanese secure possession of a line east and west of Hun-ho and south of Mukden, and to inflict on the Russians casualties which certainly exceeded 10,000, and probably reached 15,000. In war especially "the attempt and not the deed" confounds. It is not the first step but the last that costs--not the attack, but the retreat after repulse. No sooner had the failure of this big attempt on the Japanese left been fully confirmed than it became known that the movement had been directed by General Gripenberg, the commander of the Second Manchurian Army. When, after the battle of Liao-yang, the Czar sanctioned the formation of this Second Army and committed the command of it to General Gripenberg, there was a great flourish of journalistic trumpets in the Russian and French press. At last Kuropatkin would have not only an "Army worthy of the might and dignity of Russia," but would have a lieutenant worthy of himself to share the tremendous strain of directing nearly half a million of men. The two Generals exchanged cordial messages, and then Gripenberg set out for Harbin to superintend the gradual organization of his Second Army. By the end of the year its units had been completed, and then the impatience of General Gripenberg to assert himself appears to have become uncontrollable. He conceived the movement against the Japanese left--a movement that might easily have achieved substantial results if the Japanese had not been so well prepared for it--and his direct responsibility for it was made patent to the world by the angry and undignified recriminations between him and Kuropatkin that followed the repulse. General Gripenberg immediately asked to be relieved of his command, ostensibly on the ground of ill health, but really as he allowed to be perfectly manifest, in dudgeon at the treatment which he alleged had been meted out to him by his superior officer. He claimed that his flanking movement had in fact succeeded, and that he only needed reinforcements to maintain the position he had won. He complained loudly that he applied very urgently for these reinforcements, but that they were withheld, and that he was not even supported in his retreat by a diversion in other parts of the field. A great victory had been within his grasp, General Gripenberg represented, and it had been snatched from him simply by the perverse inactivity of General Kuropatkin. So strained were the relations at headquarters that General Gripenberg's request to be relieved of his command was immediately complied with, and the General set off post-haste back to St. Petersburg to lay his complaints personally before the Czar. The quarrel was conducted practically in public by the advocates of the two rivals; and General Kuropatkin's friends were not slow to put forward his side of the case. According to this account, General Gripenberg's costly defeat was caused directly by his deliberate disobedience to instructions. He had been permitted to embark on his movement against the Japanese left on the strict understanding that it was to be only in the nature of a reconnaissance in force, and that a general action was not to be forced. While nominally accepting these limitations, General Gripenberg had in his heart rebelled against them, and had not hesitated to commit his army to a pitched battle beyond the reach of support, and in conditions of weather which made the movement of troops most undesirable. Finally it was contended that General Kuropatkin had done all he could to relieve the pressure on General Gripenberg by bombarding the Japanese right and centre, and threatening an advance in those directions. The wrangle could not but be ignominious, but at least more dignity pertained to the disputant who remained at his post and strove to repair the blunder that had been committed than to the disputant that threw down his responsibilities and went home in a pet. This view of the case seems to have prevailed with the Czar himself, whose reception of General Gripenberg was not cordial. According to the reports that came from well-informed French sources, the Czar took General Kuropatkin's part very decidedly, and administered to General Gripenberg a severe rebuke for his insubordination. Whatever the character of the frequent audiences which the disappointed General had of his Sovereign, the fact remained that Kuropatkin was maintained in the supreme command of the armies in Manchuria, and that while General Gripenberg lingered in St. Petersburg, if not in disgrace, at least in inactivity, General Kaulbars was definitely appointed to the command of the Second Manchurian Army. [Illustration: ON THE SLOPES OF OJIKEISHAN, BEFORE PORT ARTHUR.] [Sidenote: Kuropatkin Asks for Reinforcements] If this five days' desperate fighting scarcely affected the position of the two armies, it inflicted on the Russian armies the discouragement of another defeat at the hands of a numerically inferior force, and the moral effect of adding to this unbroken series of reverses is not easily computed. With troops less dogged and devoted than those of the Czar, demoralization would have set in long before. The anxieties of Kuropatkin were now aggravated, too, by circumstances which no generalship on his part could alleviate and remove. All through the autumn reinforcements had been pouring along the Trans-Siberian Railway, the carrying capacity of which had been stretched so wonderfully by Prince Khilkoff. But even the resources of engineering genius have their limits. They cannot contrive a pint pot in such a way that it will hold a quart; and the number of trains that can be run over a single line is fixed inexorably by circumstance. Kuropatkin's urgent and incessant demands for more and more reinforcements had been met in large measure, but only at the expense of the other traffic, including the carriage of military stores. The enormous supplies required to provision and maintain at war efficiency armies numbering half a million of men may be imagined, and for these supplies Kuropatkin had become increasingly dependent on the railway. The more reinforcements he received the more mouths he had to feed; and the longer the campaign endured the less reliance was to be placed on what a devastated and exhausted countryside could provide. During the earlier months of the war, some relief to the strain on the railway could be found by drawing supplies from Vladivostock, which in turn could be fed from over-seas; but no sooner had the destruction of the Port Arthur fleet been completed, than the inexorable Japanese established a strict blockade of Vladivostock, and cut off this last resource. While the wretched troops amid all the rigors of the Manchurian winter were in need of such ordinary necessities as proper clothing, fuel, and even food, vast accumulations of stores, more than sufficient to supply all their needs, were lying rotting on the sidings of the Siberian Railway, immovable because of the congestion of traffic on the already overburdened line. To add to the anxiety of the situation came the grave dislocation caused by the riots and strikes which broke out in all the great industrial and distributive centres of Russia after the fall of Port Arthur, and which revealed an internal crisis even more menacing than the military crisis which confronted the army in Manchuria. For weeks together, just at the moment that prompt and vigorous action was demanded, the whole administrative system of Russia was paralyzed, and the energies of its directors were absorbed in staving off domestic revolution instead of in organizing the measures for conducting a foreign war. On the other hand, the Japanese generals had not only the strategic advantage of being within easy distance of several sea-bases, but they also were able to rely on a system of supply which is perhaps the most perfect that has ever been seen in war. The minute prevision with which the necessities of a campaign on such an enormous scale had been provided for is well exemplified by the organization of the Army Medical Service. In spite of all the hardships and exhaustion to which General Oku's army had been exposed, for instance, the Chief Surgeon was able to report that from the date of its landing on the Liao-tung Peninsula on May 6th to the end of January there had only occurred 40 deaths in its ranks from disease. The cases of typhoid numbered but 193, and the cases of dysentery no more than 342. The marvelous character of this record may be realized by remembering how appalling were the ravages of disease during the South African campaign. Typhoid and dysentery in that war carried off infinitely more victims than shell or bullet; and if sometimes in their assaults on fortified positions the Japanese have seemed shockingly reckless of human life, it is to be remembered that in another and not less important direction they have shown themselves infinitely more careful of it. Such were the conditions as the long winter months drew to their close, and as silently the Japanese armies girded themselves for the great stroke which was in a few weeks' time to eclipse both in magnitude and consequence everything that had hitherto marked the progress of this epoch-making campaign. [Sidenote: The North Sea Inquiry] Meanwhile the unhappy Baltic Fleet protracted its embarrassing sojourn in Madagascar waters. Having got so far on the road to its appointed revenge, discretion overcame heroic resolution on the part of its Admiral. The nearer Rozhdestvensky came to his task of wresting the command of the sea from Admiral Togo, the less he appeared to like it; and finally the Armada which had begun its voyage with such a sensational progress through the North Sea, decided to continue to avail itself of French hospitality until it should have received the reinforcements of the third Baltic Squadron. While the Russian fleet was thus ingloriously hung up at Diego Suarez, the International Commission appointed to inquire into the circumstances of its exploits in the North Sea met at Paris, and having heard exhaustively the evidence in support of the British and Russian cases, at length issued its report. In spite of the preliminary rumors that the conduct of the Russian Admiral had been vindicated, the event proved that the justice of the British case had been as completely sustained as it could be by any judgment which was more diplomatic than judicial in character. The Admirals of the Commission, with the exception of their Russian colleague, found that there were no hostile torpedo boats present on the Dogger Bank; that the British trawlers did nothing to provoke attack; and that the firing to which they were subjected was unjustifiable. To coat this rather unpleasant pill, the Commissioners amiably added, in contradiction of the direct implication of their own findings, that their report threw no discredit either on the military quality or the humane sentiments of Admiral Rozhdestvensky. CHAPTER XVI. Rigors of Manchurian Winters--In Winter Quarters--Ear Muffs Won by Yankee Thrift--Hot Baths and Hot Meals--Disease Conquered in Camp--Wonderful Sanitary Record--Civil War Comparisons--The Japanese Scientific--No Detail Overlooked--Wounded Rarely Die. [Sidenote: Rigors of Manchurian Winters] After the Battle of the Sha-ho River the two armies went into winter quarters prepared to face a Manchurian season with thermometer readings of 35 degrees below zero not uncommon and with a snowfall of enormous proportions to contend with. The Russians were better prepared to meet the situation than the Japanese since a large proportion of the Russian army hailed from Siberia or the northern provinces of Asiatic and European Russia and hence were inured to rigorous winters. Some thousands of the Japanese had come from the northern provinces of Japan and they, too, were well experienced in cold. But a large majority of the Japanese troops were from the southern islands of Japan, where rigorous winters are unknown. The Japanese army administration was thus confronted by a very serious problem. The story of the manner in which the problem was met and solved is among the most interesting of the chapters of the history of the war. [Sidenote: In Winter Quarters] [Sidenote: Ear Muffs Won by Yankee Thrift] When the positions of the various units of the army had been definitely fixed the whole army began, as a preliminary step, to burrow into the earth. Before mid-November the Japanese camp was no longer stretched over the hills south of the Sha-ho but had vanished from view under the hills. Along the whole front that stretched for nearly sixty miles underground galleries were excavated barely high enough even for a Japanese to stand erect. These were open at one end and at the entrance to each a charcoal burning stove was placed. A fire was kept burning continually in each of these thousands of stoves. The stove pipe, instead of jutting a foot or two into the air was extended along the roof of the dug-out to its end, then passed upward through the eight feet of soil that formed the roof. Fronting the open end long trenches, were dug and over them heavy protective bomb proofs of timber and earth were erected as a protection against the shells which with greater or less activity were hurled into the Japanese lines by the Russians throughout the winter. These underground homes solved much of the question of withstanding cold for in them the men were reasonably comfortable. Special clothing, too, was provided, and in connection with fur ear-muffs with which each man was provided an interesting story is told, one typical of the Yankee-like thrift of the Japanese. Five years before, the plague had been introduced into Japan from the Malay Peninsula. A vigorous fight was made and the disease was finally conquered but in the course of the fight the sanitary officials became convinced that the germs of the disease were being spread by rats. A prize was put upon the heads of the dangerous rodents. Millions were killed by the boys of Japan who delivered the rats, collected the bounty and gave no thought to what became of the carcasses. Nor did anyone, but when the army faced a Manchurian winter those millions of rat furs reappeared as warm ear protectors while a smile went around the world. So completely, in a thousand ingenious ways did the army officials conquer the cold and safeguard the army that throughout the winter it was even possible for every man in the army to have two hot baths a week. The bath in Japan is almost a religious rite, but the trooper bade good-bye to it, as he supposed, when he started for the front. Not so. Circular metal tubes were provided. These were sunk in the ground level with the surface. Ten feet away at the bottom of a trench a stove was placed heating a coil of pipes which went inside, around and around the sides of the tube. The tube served as the tub. It was filled with water and in a few minutes the hot bath was ready. In protected spots all along the lines Nippon could be seen hastily stripping beside the steaming hole in the ground. Then he would vanish until only his head was visible. As well as he could he scrubbed himself. Comrades raised him swiftly from the tube and swathed him in heavy blankets, wrapped in which he vanished over the edge of the trench and so into his underground home, clean and happy. [Illustration: A NIGHT ATTACK ON A RUSSIAN POSITION.] [Sidenote: Hot Baths and Hot Meals] Hot meals were cooked at the doors of the dugouts for the fifty occupants on improved portable camp kitchens. Telephones connected every battalion headquarters with its regimental headquarters and so throughout the army, every unit with the next largest and all with the general headquarters at Liao-yang. Great fur overcoats, pure wool underclothing, heavy uniforms well adapted for comfort and warmth; in every detail the Japanese were splendidly equipped for the ordeal of cold. Thousands of slight cases of frost-bite reached the hospitals after occasional sorties demanded by fitful attacks of Russian scouting parties, but there was none of this in the normal life of the vast army of nearly 300,000 men. The Japanese medical department during the winter made a wonderful fight against disease, that bane of armies, and continued under these unrecord of the actual campaign. [Sidenote: Wonderful Sanitary Record] Until now disease has always been much more destructive than shot and shell. During the brief conflict with Spain 268 Americans died of bullets and wounds, while mortality from disease reached the appalling number of 3,862, or about fourteen to one. In the Boer War 7,792 English were killed in action or died of wounds, while 13,250 fell victims to disease. Of the Turkish army operating in Thessaly seven years ago, 1,000 men were lost in battle, while 19,000 died at the front of disease. Twenty-two thousand others were invalided home, and of these 8,000 subsequently died. This was a ratio of twenty-seven men killed by disease to one by bullets. Even more frightful was the experience of the French expedition to Madagascar in 1894. Only 29 were killed in action, while over 7,000 perished from disease. Compare these frightful experiences with the record of the Japanese. During the last nine months of 1904, throughout a difficult campaign, in a country noted for lack of sanitation, only forty deaths from disease occurred in the immense army in Manchuria commanded by General Oku. It is a wonderful lesson in sanitation Japan has taught to the world. While disease scored but forty victims in nine months among the soldiers of General Oku, no fewer than 5,127 officers and men were killed and 21,080 wounded. This shows that the period was one of great activity, of hard campaigning and severe fighting--which makes the low disease death rate all the more astonishing. Soldiers in the field cannot be looked after as carefully as those in camp; hygiene and sanitary surroundings are only temporary, and, therefore, more crude; dietetic regulations are more difficult to enforce. Of course, there were many cases of disease in Oku's army--24,642 in all--but the majority were of bronchial troubles, resulting from climatic conditions. Of beri beri, a malady peculiarly Oriental, 5,070 cases were reported. But the progressive Japanese seem to have gotten the mastery even of this, once notable, because of its mortality. It is, however, in battling with those most dreaded scourges of an army--typhoid fever and dysentery--that the Japanese have scored their greatest triumphs. Of typhoid fever they have had only 193 cases, and of dysentery only 342 cases. [Sidenote: Civil War Comparisons] During the first year of the American Civil War typhoid fever attacked 8 per cent. of the Federal troops, killing 35 per cent. of the white and 55 per cent. of the negro soldiers who contracted it. But here is an army in the wilds of Manchuria larger than that of McClellan before Richmond, which had only forty deaths in nine months. The great American conflict was one of the bloodiest in history. In the Federal ranks, 110,070 men were killed in battle or died of wounds, while 249,458 were sent to their graves of disease. Why is it the little brown islanders of the East were so successful in fighting the unseen foe? "Every death from preventable disease is an insult to the intelligence of the age," says Major Louis L. Seaman, late surgeon in the United States Volunteers, who returned from Japan during the war. "When it occurs in an army, where the units are compelled to submit to discipline, it becomes a governmental crime." "Disease bacteria," asserts another writer, in discussing the medical aspects of the Boer War, "are even more dangerous than Mauser bullets shot off with smokeless powder. Both hit without giving a sign to the eye whence they come, and of the two, the Mausers hit less often and hit less hard." It was through prompt recognition of these propositions that the Japanese held down their death rate from disease. Major Seaman relates that, in conversation with a Japanese officer early in the conflict, the subject of Russia's overwhelming numbers was mentioned. "Yes," admittted the officer, "we are prepared for that. Russia may be able to place 2,000,000 men in the field. We can furnish 500,000. You know that in war four men die of disease for every one who falls from bullets. We propose to eliminate disease as a factor. Every man who dies in our army must fall on the field of battle. In this way we shall neutralize the superiority of Russian numbers and stand on a comparatively equal footing." [Sidenote: The Japanese Scientific] When Japan started out to make war she did so upon a scientific basis. For many months in advance the store rooms of Tokio were crowded with surgical materials, cots, tents, bedding, ambulances and all kinds of hospital supplies, ready for any emergency, and under the personal example of the Empress the women of the land made bandages for those who might be wounded. Japan realized also that the keystone to the health of the army lay in the character of the ration provided for the individual soldier. So she set about to master that problem. First of all, the ration evolved was suited to the climatic conditions of the campaign. It consisted largely of rice, compressed fish, soy, army biscuits, a few salted plums, tea--all of which necessitate the drinking of large quantities of boiled water--a few ounces of meat and some juicy, succulent pickles. No more thorough or efficient medical preparation could be imagined that Japan made for her great conflict. Not only was the ablest of medical counsel obtained, but the members of that staff of the army were given rank and full authority to enforce their decrees. The Japanese had a medical director who ranked as a lieutenant-general. Six medical officers ranked as major-general. With every 20,000 men in line a surgeon ranking as brigadier-general, and all have power to enforce their orders. Every body of moving soldiers, however small, was accompanied by one or more medical officers, who were almost omnipresent, and were always watchful. Field and line officers and men were obliged to obey them without question. The solution of the greater problem engaged the attention of the medical corps. This was in preserving the health and fighting value of the army. Nothing seemed too small to escape the vigilance of the medical officers, or too tedious to weary his patience. He was with the first line of scouts, with his microscope and chemicals, testing and labelling wells so that the army to follow should not drink water that was contaminated. When the scouts reached a town, he immediately instituted a thorough examination of its sanitary condition. If contagious or infectious disease was found, he quarantined and placed a guard around the dangerous district. Notices were posted, so that the approaching column was warned and no soldiers were located where danger existed. Violations of such a notice was as great an offense as disobedience to a line officer on a battlefield. An officer with only the rank of a lieutenant might post the notice, and yet General Oku himself dared not disregard it. No foraging party ever set out to gather supplies unless accompanied by a medical officer. [Sidenote: No Detail Overlooked] He sampled the various kinds of food, fruit and vegetables sold by the natives along the line of march long before the arrival of the army. If the food was tainted, or the fruit over ripe, or the water ought to be boiled, notice was posted to that effect. In camp, too, the medical officer was always busy, lecturing the men on sanitation and the hundred and one details of personal hygiene--how to cook, to eat, and when not to drink; to bathe, and even to directions as to paring and cleansing the finger nails to prevent danger from bacteria. More than any other preventive, the boiling of all drinking water was insisted upon. Every Japanese soldier carried a small copper camp kettle with a double bottom. By the use of it he was enabled to boil water even in a gale. Charcoal was burned on the inside, the water being heated between two layers of copper. Great kettles for similar use in camps were also provided. Large bathing basins, or kettles, formed an important part of the equipment of each company. They were placed upon the ground and are ready for use in a few minutes after camp was made. In this way personal cleanliness was maintained. A troop might encamp beside a small stream, the water of which was needed for several different purposes. It was not scooped up indiscriminately, but the flow was divided into separate channels--one for drinking or cooking, another for bathing, a third for laundry service, and so on. [Sidenote: Wounded Rarely Died] Up to July 1, 1106 wounded were taken to Tokio, and of that number not a single man died. These men were shot in almost every possible way; six had bullets through the brain, nine had bullets through their chests, and six had bullets through the abdomen--and yet all got well. The medical service of the United States in its war with Spain was not any more discreditable when compared with that of Japan than the medical service of the English Army during its war with the Boers. The report of the English Hospital Commission, which inquired into the medical end of that conflict, shows that there was "an immense amount of needless suffering and misery." There is no attempt "to hide incompetency and unpreparedness under the platitude that 'was is war.'" Just as in the Spanish-American War, a large number of civil surgeons were employed for army work in South Africa. They had no knowledge of military duties nor of military methods and discipline. Consequently, they were ineffective, except when accompanied and, to some extent, controlled by officers of the service. They were absolutely without authority. Perhaps all these lessons were observed and absorbed by the keen-eyed Japanese. In any event, they have given the world the most pronounced examples of scientific warfare that the hoary old globe has ever seen. [Illustration: JAPANESE TROOPS CAUGHT IN BARBED WIRE ENTANGLEMENT.] CHAPTER XVII. The Greatest Battle of History--Rout and Disaster for Russia--The Ancient City of Mukden--The Tombs of the Manchus--A Flourishing Mart--Betwixt Winter and Spring--The Line of Battle--Lone Tree Hill--The Russian Position--The Japanese Task--Mukden the Real Battleground--Russian Flanks Strongly Protected--Well Protected on the East--Battled for Mountain Passes--Russians Had Advantage of Position--The Outlook for Oyama--Busy Preparations During Winter--Oyama's Plan of Battle--Nogi to Strike Culminating Blow--"Out of the Way for Us"--Master Stroke of the Battle. Not only the climax of the Japan-Russian War, but a climax to all wars was reached in the Battle of Mukden, fought February 19-March 13, 1905. This memorable struggle, resulting in a sweeping victory for Japan, was practically a campaign in itself. The results, a cataclasm which overwhelmed the Russian army, were not merely what had been expected for this one battle, but comprehended all that the Japanese had hoped for a year's campaign. It was more than rout. It remains a grisly monument to the potentiality of war to write horror on the pages of world history. It was more than defeat, retreat, disaster, it was practical annihilation for Russia's power of resistance in the Far East. Her vaunted military power was trailed in the dust, was obliterated. When the smoke of the contest had rolled away Oyama stood master of Manchuria with only a demoralized horde of the enemy "without form and void" fleeing in panic with no thought but to shake off a foe to whom no resistance could be offered. [Sidenote: The Greatest Battle of History] No nation in the world's history has faced a greater blow to its military prestige, and from the standpoint of the Japanese--no military force has achieved for its nation a more sweeping or more complete victory. The Battle of Mukden is destined to occupy a unique place in the story of the nations for these and other reasons. In point of the territory involved; in point of the number of men engaged; in point of the duration of the struggle; in point of the lessons, the authentic history of the world has no peer for its record. General Kuropatkin, the Russian Commander-in-Chief, had at the beginning of the struggle an army of 300,000 infantry; 26,700 cavalry, and 1,368 guns. This is the estimate of the Japanese intelligence bureau. On the other hand the German Military Review credited Kuropatkin with a total of 370,790 men of whom 36,790 were cavalry. The Germans estimate that the Russians had a total of 1,598 field guns, and 72 heavy guns. Somewhere between these two estimates the actual figures, carefully concealed by the Russians, may be taken to lie. Marshal Oyama had 500,000 men of all arms and artillery equal to that of the Russians with a preponderating number of big guns, a great many having been moved from Port Arthur to the northern battleground. In the two armies therefore, there were in round numbers a total of about 800,000 men. [Illustration: MAP OF THE BATTLE OF MUKDEN.] [Sidenote: Rout and Disaster for Russia] The battle developed into a struggle for possession of Mukden, the ancient Manchu capital, near which lie the Imperial Tombs of the founders of the Manchu dynasty, a spot sacred throughout the length and breadth of China. The battle lines around this city stretched for one hundred miles. The fighting began on February 19. On March 7th the Russians already seeing disaster in the advance made by the Japanese under General Nogi, toward cutting off the line of retreat north of Mukden, fell back from the centre along the Sha-ho River and on March 10 evacuated Mukden, beginning a retreat that was turned into a disastrous rout by the desperate flank attacks of the Japanese from both sides. The Russian losses to March 13, when the Battle of Mukden actually came to a close, were 175,000 men, killed, wounded and prisoners; 60 guns; 25,000 rounds of small arm ammunition and immense quantities of stores. The Japanese casualties to March 12 were 41,222 killed, wounded and missing and several hundred of the missing were recovered in the capture of Mukden. The Japanese sent 43,000 prisoners to Japan as one of the results of the victory. [Sidenote: The Ancient City of Mukden] Mukden, round which the greatest battle in history raged, is, without exception, the most interesting place in the whole of Northern China. In the eyes of all Manchurians it is the one holy city in the world, for it is here that the tombs of the founders of the Manchu dynasty are situated. For this reason the Chinese Government demanded that the sacred precincts of the Imperial Tombs must not be violated by foul warfare, and both sides engaged in the horrible work of killing, entered into solemn undertakings to respect the sanctity of the famous burial grounds. The great city stands in the middle of a vast alluvial plain, surrounded by rich and highly cultivated land. The population of Mukden is over a quarter of a million, and the city is modelled on a similar plan to that of Peking, presenting an imposing appearance, in spite of the decay into which many of the ancient buildings have been allowed to fall. The railway, which runs north to Harbin, does not pass within a mile of the city, the Chinese having refused to allow the neighborhood of the sacred tombs to be desecrated by the construction of an iron road in the immediate vicinity. The station is consequently about a mile away from the city, but on alighting from the train, one is immediately struck by the sight of the tremendous brick walls, 60 feet high, which surround the inner town. This is built in the form of a square a mile wide, and entrance is gained through eight enormous brick gates, surrounded by watch-towers and batteries. Outside this, suburbs extend for about a mile in every direction, and the whole is surrounded by a mud rampart from ten to twenty feet in height. A little to the north of the city is the sacred shrine of Na Ta, and a mile to the east of this is the Temple of Heaven, where sacrifices of black cattle and white sheep are offered up in the Emperor's name. To the east of this pagoda, buried in the midst of a grove of fir trees, is the famous tomb of the great Chinese conqueror, Tai Tsung. Access to the tomb is gained through a great gateway, roofed with red and yellow tiles, down a long avenue flanked by colossal stone figures of animals, great marble columns, and stretches of high wall. [Sidenote: The Tombs of the Manchus] The other great tomb lies due east of the city, in the heart of a great forest. Here, amid similar walls, figures of animals, and decayed marble columns, lie the remains of Nao Chu, the father of Tai Tsung. The fact that both these sacred relics were surrounded by acres of forest made it likely that no violation, either by Russians or Japanese, would take place, though the possible misdirection of a shell from one of their heavy guns might very easily have ruined either of them. Such an accident would very probably have stirred the somnolent Chinese to their very depths. For an Eastern city Mukden is extremely clean and well kept. The Manchus are well known for their cleanly habits, which are often in striking contrast with those of the southern Chinese. The streets are well scavengered, and there are many most imposing, if not beautiful, private mansions belonging to wealthy mandarins. There are also a great number of handsome shops, and the centre of the city is always busy with the incessant movement and bustle which are only to be found in prosperous trading centres. [Sidenote: A Flourishing Mart] For Mukden is the centre of an enormous trade between the north and the south of China. From the north come enormous quantities of fur, and from the south millions of bushels of all sorts of grain, while in the immediate vicinity wheat, barley, tobacco, melons, and cucumbers are grown in the fertile plain which stretches away on all sides. The silkworm, too, is cultivated all round Mukden, so that there is never any lack of trade from one source or another, whatever the season. Mukden, in the Manchu language means "flourishing," and for centuries the city has lived up to its name. Two miles to the south of the city is a wide, sandy stretch of ground, twenty miles long, through which runs the Hun River, which can be forded almost anywhere. This approach to Mukden, forming the Russian center, was strongly held with sand-bag batteries. On the west of the town the very high railway embankment, running north and south of the river for many miles, was used to protect Mukden against attack from the west. The most vulnerable point in this line was the bridge over the Hun River, against which the Japanese delivered incessant attack. Mukden was strongly fortified by General Kuropatkin. The fortifications extended for nine miles, with forts and redoubts at intervals of a mile. The redoubts were all cleverly masked, and the line of fortification was protected by deep ditches and pits, all with stakes at the bottom, by wire entanglements, land mines, and a line of felled trees. [Sidenote: Betwixt Winter and Spring] Winter still howls over Manchuria when February is drawing to a close, but the early days of March, just as through the central United States, bring the first flush of spring. The ground remains locked in the grip of a frost that turns earth to steel to a depth of seven feet. The rivers are still securely ice-bound, but overhead the sun begins a mastery over the overpowering cold. If the nights remain bitterly cold, the days are increasingly warm and throughout the daylight hours conditions are ideal for the work of the soldier. The weather, therefore, fairly trumpeted a call to arms to the two vast armies that confronted each other south of the Sha-ho River. The earliest moves were made over whitened plains with snow storms still driving over hills and plain out of the bleak north. Marshal Oyama, the Japanese commander, evidently realized that the struggle would be long and, indeed, before its end winter had, in fact, given place to the opening days of spring. The advantages were many. The movement of artillery was facilitated by the hard surface of frozen ground and the ease with which ice-covered streams and rivers could be crossed. Lack of foliage deprived the army of the protection that so greatly aided the advance on Liao-yang, and so effectively shielded the artillery in that struggle. The broken nature of the country, the heavy calibre guns, firing from one to five miles with accuracy, minimized the disadvantage of fighting over a bare land and if lack of protection of foliage and growing crops added to the Japanese losses it failed to check the vigor or relentlessness of the advance once it had begun. [Sidenote: The Line of Battle] The lines of the two armies on the eve of the great battle, stretched from the Hun River, on the west, in a southeasterly direction south of the Sha-ho River, along that stream, then bending more southward, across the Taitse River, near Bensihu, at a point thirty-five miles east of Yentai Station, on the Harbin--Port Arthur Railroad. These lines had been determined by the battle of the Sha-ho River, October 6-13, the end of the campaign of 1904. Strategically the advantage lay with the Russians. Though defeated in the memorable battle along the Sha-ho, General Kuropatkin had secured a position south of Mukden far superior to any below Tie Pass, the gateway to the great plains around Harbin, always regarded as the ultimate decisive battleground of Manchuria. [Illustration: RUSSIAN RETREAT IN MANCHURIA.] [Sidenote: Lone Tree Hill] The whole lay of the land was adapted to defensive fighting. Along most of the front lay the Sha-ho River, broad enough and deep enough to demand bridging except when frozen over. The culminating event of the battle of the Sha-ho had been the recapture by the Russians of Lone Tree Hill, a mile east of the railroad, just south of the Sha-ho, at the very centre of the battlefield. From this point the Russians commanded a territory five miles in radius. The hill, naturally adapted for defense, was strongly fortified to a point nearer impregnability even, than achieved by any of the boasted fortifications of the mountains around Port Arthur. Thousands of Japanese were ultimately to immolate themselves on the slopes of Lone Tree Hill in vain efforts at its capture. It still stood invincible when events elsewhere demanded retreat and its abandonment. Westward the Russian line spread across a rolling country dotted with Chinese villages. The low, stoned walled cottages of these clusters of hamlets formed the basis for defenses which were well calculated to offer enormous resistance to troops advancing across the wide-stretching flats along the Sha-ho, and the east bank of the Hun, the only approach for the Japanese. [Sidenote: The Russian Position] Eastward from the Sha-ho the defense line followed the foot hills that become mountains thirty miles east of the Sha-ho. In front flowed a river for twenty miles of the distance, and a vast level plain approached the river from the south, over which the Japanese right flank must make its advance. The Russian position was enclosed in a vast triangle with the upper angle between Mukden and Fushan, northward, its base the eighty-mile line from Madyanapu, on the Hun River, to Tsenketchen, thirty-five miles east of Yentai. Mountains protected the left flank; the Hun River protected the right flank, while Lone Tree Hill, and the Sha-ho River were chief elements in the strength of the centre. All the genius of the Russian commanders was exerted to find the weak spots in this long line. Artillery of the heaviest types, ranging through all the grades of siege and field guns, and the more mobile and most deadly machine guns were scattered with prodigality across the whole vast front then in receding lines to the apex of the triangle, where were arranged the defenses of Mukden and Fushan. To facilitate communications over the battlefield, two hundred miles of light railroad track was laid, and thousands of light cars for horse or man propulsion were in constant use carrying munitions, provisions, guns or whatever was needed, to depots from which every part of the battlefield was readily accessible. Telephone and telegraph wires connected the headquarters, just north of the Sha-ho River, with every command along the entire line. Crowning all, an army of 350,000 men rested on its arms, elbow to elbow, along the front, as bulwarks to the flanks, and northward, thronging Mukden and Fushan, the reserves. This was the immediate situation on the Russian side that confronted Marshal Oyama. [Sidenote: The Japanese Task] The Japanese task, however, was more than to defeat the Russian army. Criticism had followed the victory of Liao-yang because, despite the awful defeat administered, the battle had been indecisive. The Russian general had been able to extricate his army and by a masterful retreat, to realign his forces in a new position with no alternative but to follow and prepare to renew the struggle left to the Japanese commanders. The Battle of Mukden must be estimated in the light of an effort to prevent a recurrence of this feat by the Russians. The chief world interest centers about the strategy of Marshal Oyama to encircle his foe, to cut off his retreat completely and to force the alternative of annihilation or surrender. The geography of the country, its strategical features far afield from the actual Russian positions, therefore, become matters of moment which must be understood to permit a comprehensive understanding of the battle and its results. [Sidenote: Mukden the Real Battleground] Marshal Oyama's problem, as has been said, was to envelope the Russian armies. It was as though the Russian triangle were a bottle into which a cork must be driven. On the neck of the bottle, ten miles apart, are Mukden, on the West, and Fushan, on the east. Between these points the Russians would be compelled to disgorge in a retreat northward should the center be broken and a retreat became necessary. Here, then, was the Japanese objective. To take Mukden and Fushan, to drive the forces there southward toward the Sha-ho, and to place a force northward to be the cork in the bottle, driving back the retreat on the advance of the center, right and left armies, thus surrounding the Russians with a hoop of men and guns that would make escape or victory impossible. Thus it is that a battle that centered twenty-five miles southward on the Sha-ho River becomes officially known as the battle of Mukden, for here centered the really vital struggle of the whole memorable engagement. The Russian line of communication centers at Harbin, where the railroad which pierces Manchuria and the Liao-tung Peninsula to Port Arthur, branches southward from the Siberian railroad, the artery through which flows life from St. Petersburg and European Russia to the Far Eastern armies. The whole Manchurian campaign has moved northward along this railroad, the salvation of the Russian army always depending on its ability to keep open at its rear this means of sustenance, of ammunition supply, of reinforcement supply, of transport of every kind, whether advancing or retreating. The railroad reached the actual Russian lines just west of Mukden and then continued southward to the Sha-ho, branching here and there to various field depots convenient to the various army units. Marshal Oyama's plan of battle comprehended, as its greatest achievement, the cutting of this railroad north of Mukden before a retreat could be made. This was the first and most vital contribution if the ultimate plan to envelop the Russians was to succeed. This plan failed and hence the prize of decisive, final victory slipped from the grasp of the Japanese commander, however great the blow he dealt to the Russian army. [Sidenote: Russian Flanks Strongly Protected] General Kuropatkin was fully alive to the dangers on his flanks as well as at the front. His right flank rested on Mukden, but the actual lines to which were given the task of preventing the turning of the right flank were far afield from the actual city. To the southwest they extended to the Hun River, thirty-five miles away, while the far outpost was within touch of Sinmintin, a Chinese city, thirty-five miles westward of Mukden on the banks of the Liao River. Sinmintin is actually in the territory which was excluded from the theatre of war by the famous agreement proposed to the European Powers by John Hay, the American Secretary of State, by which the neutrality of Chinese territory was assured. Nevertheless, while not actually occupied by the Russians, Sinmintin was to all intents and purposes within their lines and was continually used as a receiving point for supplies bought or commanded in the Mongolian provinces. Cossacks in large force remained in close touch with the city while the road leading from Sinmintin to Mukden, a famous caravan route, was occupied by large forces of Russians and was regarded as an effective bulwark for the Russian right flank. The Russian defences on the right, or west wing of their army began just west of the Sha-ho River, extended thence westward for thirty-five miles to the Hun and then bent due northward across the left side of the Liao River Valley to a point a few miles east of Sinmintin; thence along the Sinmintin-Mukden road to Tatchekiao, five miles northward of Mukden; thence due westward until the line intercepted the railroad, a few miles north of Mukden. Lieutenant General Baron Kaulbars was commander of the army of nearly 100,000 men which made up this wing of General Kuropatkin's forces. The left wing's divisional commander was General Linevitch, who, with General Rennenkampf, stands among the greatest of the Russian commanders. Occupying a position to the Russian left flank exactly similar to that of Mukden on the right, is Fushan, ten miles east of Mukden. With this position firmly held at center and on its flanks it would be impossible for the Japanese to drive in their cork in the neck of the bottle between Fushan and Mukden. To the average strategist, indeed, universally among strategists, the view would prevail after a glance of the battlefield as it lay at the opening of the struggle that there was the real vital point to the attack as well as to the defense. In the opening days of the battle events all shaped themselves to bear out this view. General Kuropatkin manifestly thought so. Here he threw the weight of vast numbers of troops and thought victory near when the Japanese attack from this quarter had been fought to a standstill. Logically, Fushan was the chief danger point, and the fact that Marshal Oyama, the Japanese commander, chose another strategical solution for the problem is among his achievements that have resulted in the appellation of "The Napoleon of the Orient." [Sidenote: Well Protected on the East] Just as on the west, the Russian lines were far afield from the actual key position at Mukden, so on their left, or eastern positions their lines formed a far-reaching protective barrier, 20 miles away. As has been said, the main front on the east stretched away from the Sha-ho, thirty-five miles eastward to the Taitse River, which winds in a general northeasterly direction from Liao-yang. The defensive position of importance was at Tsinketchen, in the foothills of the Sierras, which run across Manchuria, and finally reach the east coast of Korea. The only practicable path northward for the Japanese army was to skirt these foothills to the passes, northeast from Tsinketchen and Bentsiaputze and then debouch into the valley of the Hun River and fight their way northward to Fushan, the rugged nature of the country eastward from that place practically preventing any opportunity for play of strategy in a turning movement to strike northeast of the city. One of the wonders of the war and one of the most amazing of the feats constantly accomplished by the Japanese has been the skill and success with which they have attacked and captured mountain positions. General Kuroki in the campaign which, after a few months followed the victory of the Yalu, repeatedly drove the Russians from veritable Thermopylæs and in the fighting on every front which preceded the surrounding of the Russian army at Liao-yang the Japanese were constantly confronted with the necessity of making frontal attacks on mountain defiles which seemed to offer impregnable shelter to the defenders. [Sidenote: Battled for Mountain Passes] So also in the campaign on the east in the battle of Mukden. General Kuropatkin chose his defensive positions with skill. No pains were spared in fortifying the gaps in the mountain ridges through which the Japanese must pass. The principal routes open were through Da Pass and Gauto Pass. While these were the main defensive positions the Russians pushed fifteen miles further southward toward the enemy, and the earlier reverses at Tsinketchen were only fairly unimportant preludes to the battling at these mountain passes. The Russian line on the east had less geometrical regularity than the line of the west owing to the nature of the topography. The lines from the front extended to the foothills, as has been pointed out, and then were concentrated at the passes, the danger points, offering only a limited battle line until the fighting had swept over the mountains into the Valley of the Hun. What with artillery of a thousand guns and an army of 75,000 men only called upon to defend positions of vast natural strength, there was little wonder then when the open guns of the battle rolled over the plains in the west, General Kuropatkin concentrated his attention to the centre and gave little thought to events on his left. As it turned out the General's confidence was well founded. In all the war no braver or more stubborn or more successful fight has been waged by any Russian force than was waged by the army under Lieutenant-General Linevitch and General Rennenkampff on this flank. It has been said that the Japanese were fought to a standstill. That statement is literally true, and only the beginning of the Russian retreat made it possible for General Kuroki, the Japanese Commander here, to play any conspicuous part in the total disaster which befell the Russian Army. [Sidenote: Russians Had Advantage of Position] To summarize, the position in which General Kuropatkin found himself at the opening of the battle was an admirable one from every standpoint. His defensive lines fitted in well with the topography of the country. Broad rivers, rugged mountains, apparently impregnable mountain passes, commanding hills on front and flanks promised to aid materially in his defence. His army was nearly of equal strength with that of the enemy, while superior natural positions compensated for the slight deficiency of men. In the long winter months every possible means of communication from one to another of the units of his army had been perfected, while, apparently unassailable, stretched a great railroad behind him offering ready link between the front and the Russian base of supplies for all of Manchuria. His army had been recuperated, was eager to fight, and would be called upon to defend fortified positions, heavily supplied with artillery, a position which, as history plainly proves, brings out the best qualities of the Russian soldier. So far as the centre was concerned he had no fear. Lone Tree Hill, or, as he renamed it for the Russian who led the charge that had recaptured it from the Japanese, had been made as nearly impregnable as men and arms could make a position made by nature for defensive fighting. So westward, so eastward, topography, the condition of his army, the whole aspect of the field, spoke only of a repulse to the Japanese attack. Then would come the offensive against a worn-out army, then the victory for which all Russia was clamoring and upon which depended the future of the Commander-in-Chief himself. So much for the Russian viewpoint. [Illustration: RUSSIAN SUFFERING AT THE BATTLE OF MUKDEN.] [Sidenote: The Outlook for Oyama] When the smoke of the battle of the Sha-ho cleared away it left the Japanese armies masters of practically the same territory they had occupied at the conclusion of the pursuit of the Russian after the victory at Liao-yang. General Kuroki, commanding the Japanese right army, had fallen back from Bentsiaputze to Bensihu, a distance of twenty miles; but this move had been made to correct the alignment of the army with the centre, at the Sha-ho River as a basis. Certainly, no great effort was made to advance this force after the initial Russian successes on this flank after the battle of the Sha-ho. Some advantages attached to the position finally occupied by General Kuroki, hence the view that he was impelled by strategic reasons when he had failed to advance, rather than by inability to retake the lost positions farther north. At the centre, which followed the south bank of the Sha-ho River, the Russians had succeeded in retaking Lone Tree Hill in the closing hours of the battle, and had a decided advantage. Every possible effort was made to retake the position, but when called upon for this effort the Japanese were exhausted by twelve days of incessant fighting, and they failed. Marshal Oyama, at the centre, therefore, was confronted by a practically impregnable position. Westward, on the left flank of the Japanese Army, the Russians were less aided by natural features of the country than at any other point. Their lines crossed the Sha-ho just west of the railroad and then spread northeastward through a series of villages dotting a comparatively level plain lying between the Sha-ho and the Hun Rivers. Of all the positions on the entire Russian front this seemed to offer the best opportunity for attack, for while an advance would have to be made over an open country, approach to the Russians' positions was facilitated by the innumerable villages in this fertile river plain. On the other hand, the Japanese were open to the same style of advance, and both commanders made unusual preparations to defend this angle of the great battlefield. The Japanese lines along the front were merely a parallel of the Russian lines which have been described, except that while on the west and on the centre the entrenchments were only a few hundred yards separated, the lines farther east, except for outpost positions, were separated by distances ranging from five to fifteen miles, as developed when the operations of the Battle of Mukden were actually under way. To the Japanese Commander-in-Chief the general situation could not have been particularly reassuring, except that he could count on the indomitable efforts of an unbeaten and fanatically brave army. So far as the topography was concerned, the enemy had every advantage. In all a very difficult and interesting problem was presented as the Mikado's hosts settled down for their long winter inaction. [Sidenote: Busy Preparations During Winter] Liao-yang was made the Japanese base after the occupation of that city, and the Engineer Corps performed a notable feat in the speedy manner in which the railroad running northward from Port Arthur was made over for the use of Japanese engines and cars. The Russians had a five-foot gauge, while the Japanese rolling stock was built to the standard measurement. This fact made necessary the relaying of the entire line, a task which was promptly completed, thereby affording the inland army base ready communication with the general supply base at Dalny and at Port Arthur after the capture of that port. In addition to this line of communication the Japanese had a line to the Yalu. Stores for the right army were landed at the mouth of the Yalu River, and then were transported overland on a light railroad for which horses were the motive power, to points well in reach of General Kuroki. Both of these lines of communication were vital to an army that had now penetrated two hundred miles inland and were the first consideration when the flanks and protective units were being placed in their winter quarters. The Liao-yang-Yalu line proved to have been safeguarded against danger, but Cossack raiders in January twice encircled the Japanese left army, penetrated to the railroad at Yinkow, and damaged the line. In each case the damage done was quickly repaired. The second raiding party was so nearly cut off and so nearly annihilated in its flight to the Russian lines and activities on a broader scale so soon after were begun, that no further attempts of the kind were attempted. Such trifling inconvenience resulted from these perilous raids that it would seem that the Russians were hardly recompensed for the sacrifice of life. Certainly, the vast bulk of all needed stores and ammunition were already within the Japanese lines before the attempts were made, and Marshal Oyama, in all probability, could have fought the entire battle of Mukden without further need of the railroad, particularly as no Japanese retreat resulted from that struggle. The incidents only bore out the long held reputation of the Cossacks for reckless bravery. Indeed, the Japanese have repeatedly expressed their admiration for the Cossacks as a foe worthy of their steel. [Sidenote: Deciding the Way to Strike] With his front well aligned, and with every possible precaution taken to safeguard his lines of communication, the question then before the Japanese Commander-in-Chief was the strategy to mark a resumption of hostilities. At Liao-yang, despite the sweeping nature of the victory, there can be no doubt that the Japanese were bitterly disappointed when, despite tremendously determined efforts to prevent their escape, practically the whole Russian Army had disentangled itself from a well-set net and had escaped to occupy new positions there to be fought all over again. The first thought in all of the planning of the new campaign that was to succeed the winter of inactivity, was to accomplish the actual envelopment of General Kuropatkin, forcing upon the Russian Commander a surrender as the only alternative to annihilation. The line of action decided upon is fully revealed in the details of the battle to be told later. This program of complete destruction stands out even more plainly than at Liao-yang. It came far nearer realization than in that struggle, and was not concluded with the mere taking of Mukden; but like the tentacles of a great octopus, Marshal Oyama's grim determination for complete annihilation of the foe spread far northward beyond the scene of the initial victory and relentlessly realized in large measure all that he had hoped. [Sidenote: Oyama's Plan of Battle] In brief, the plan was to hold the Russian centre in a combat which, however desperate and bloody, was only a feint. While this struggle went on with apparent success to Russian arms, the right and left flanks as aligned east and west of the Sha-ho were to press home an attack calculated slowly to bend back the Russians toward their line of retreat northward from Mukden. But the culminating fact in the entire plan was an entirely separate blow at the Russian rear north of Mukden by an army which, while it no doubt figured in the Russian calculations of probabilities, eventually burst into the plain eastward from Sinmintin with a fury of surprise attack which ultimately crumbled the entire scheme of Russian defence. [Sidenote: Nogi to Strike Culminating Blow] That army was made up of the conquerors of Port Arthur. The fall of that fortress released a host of 80,000 seasoned fighters, flushed with a victory that filled the world with awe and admiration. Just so soon as the details of the surrender had been completed this force was under way northward to reinforce Marshal Oyama. At its head was the savagely brave Nogi, who had just won for himself undying place in the history of Japan by successfully reducing the Gibraltar of the Orient. Swift from the scene of one great triumph he was speeding to another. It was in the disposition of this force that all of the genius of Oyama was expended. When he sent Nogi westward in a wide circuit to swing completely around the Russian right army, to plunge northward by forced marches as far as Simintin and then bend eastward to burst upon the Russian rear, sweeping within five miles of their lines before an adequate defence could be provided, he settled the fate of Russia's great army of nearly a half million men. He struck a blow that made an awful rout possible, and the blow that made possible the final disaster, the forced abandonment of Tie Pass, that left the Russian Army a demoralized horde of panicked troops facing northward into the bleak stretches of Northern Manchuria. By this blow he added the final humiliation to Russia's greatest soldier, Kuropatkin, and lost that erstwhile leader with half of a century of popular adulation behind him, the command of Russia's Armies in Manchuria. He ended every hope of an offensive campaign in Manchuria, achieving at a stroke every result that for which a year's campaign had been allotted. [Sidenote: "Out of the Way for Us"] Nogi's army swept into the ranks of the opposing Russians, shouting, "Out of the way for us; we're from Port Arthur". To them fighting in the open country face to face with the enemy was as child's play compared with the horrors they had faced in scaling the bristling mountainsides north of Port Arthur. There they advanced against hidden terrors that lurked behind dull gray walls of huge forts; they braved the cunningly devised high priests of death that are hidden underground and work havoc and disaster when victory seems within grasp. They had looked death in the face in a hundred hidden forms unflinchingly, had fought and conquered a foe behind vast walls. Here there was only man to man. Shells burst overhead, scattering deadly shrapnel, but what was that to the rain of ponderous steel from siege guns that tore out the face of hillsides and annihilated regiments at a single puff. These were the men who, with a strident battle cry of scorn for the ease of the task, swept through thirty miles in a single day, trampling Russian regiments under foot, storming over fortified towns as though no men or guns were there, right up to the gates of Mukden, right where their guns could search the huddled ranks of Russians, fleeing from the destructible force that was welding a ring around them. Nature finally checked them. Up from the Manchurian plains a mighty wind swept a blinding simoon that halted their irresistible host at the moment when they were driving home the last fatal blow. For a day the whole battlefield was wrapped in a blinding curtain of sweeping sand. When once again Nogi's men could take up the work they had begun the bulk of the Russian force had fled past. Undaunted they swept northward, and four days later, when the beaten and dispersed army was reorganizing its ranks from the chaos of the flight, it was Nogi's men, springing once more out of the west, that set Kuropatkin's whole remnant in flight again, leaving behind them the last fortified position in Southern Manchuria. Oyama planned, but the palm for the victories of Mukden and the further flight from Tie Pass belongs to Nogi and the host that took Port Arthur. [Sidenote: Master Stroke of the Battle] This was indeed the master stroke of the battle, nevertheless a way had to be prepared for it by tremendously desperate work on every quarter of the long battle line. As vigorous as was the assault made on the Russian front, there can be no doubt that this was nothing more than a feint. The readiness with which the Japanese Commander-in-Chief sacrificed thousands of lives in assaults of a secondary nature is one of the significant things of the story of the battle. Such methods are reminiscent of Grant's massed attacks in the closing days of the Civil War, when life was counted as nothing when in the scale beside the value of victory. No pang for the sacrifice reached the heart of Oyama or the Generals under him who were directing the assaults. Victory was the stake, and the soldiers were there to die, if need be. They died by files and ranks and regiments. But victory was won. Over against the total of the blood-letting in their own ranks was the awful slaughter of the enemy, here, as in every battle of the war, far heavier in the Russian totals than with the Japanese. Two generations have come since the famous struggle of Gettysburg, yet statisticians are still struggling to determine the exact number who fought and died there or who remained alive, as victor and vanquished. The actual figures are still only approximately known. Multiply the difficulties of accounting for the less than two hundred thousand who fought at Gettysburg an hundredfold, and something of the difficulty of getting at the actual facts of the battle at Mukden begin to be realized. Ultimately, the Japanese may give the details, but no actual statement of the number of Russians engaged, of the losses in killed, wounded and missing, may be expected. The story forms too tragic a page in the history of the nation ever to be willingly spread broadcast. [Illustration: ON BOARD A JAPANESE BATTLESHIP DURING THE BATTLE OF THE JAPAN SEA.] CHAPTER XVIII. Prelude to the Great Battle--Gripenberg Fails and Quits Army--The Battle Begins--The Struggle on the East Front--The Battle at the Center--Battle Culminates on the West--Village by Village Taken--Russian Artillery Impotent--When the Crushing Blow Fell--A Cloud in the West--Kuropatkin Ignores Danger--Center Positions Abandoned--Japanese Ingenuity Marvelous--Retreat a Carnival of Slaughter--Oyama's Prophecy Fulfilled. [Sidenote: Prelude to the Great Battle] There was a prelude to the actual battle fought early in January by a portion of the Russian right flank under General Gripenberg, which is chiefly interesting for its effect in the Russian ranks. Whatever may have been the purpose of the attack, it failed. Heiketau, a town in the angle of the Hun and Liao Rivers, was the scene of the opening attack. Here the Japanese had an outpost in sight of the Russian lines. Resistance was made to the advance until it was seen that the Russians were in earnest and that a large force was actually about to give battle. Thereupon the Japanese outpost fell back on the main position at Sandiapu, three miles away, the Russians following. For two days a severe fight waged around their position, and General Gripenberg made enough gains on the first day to give rise to the belief that he was in position to break the entire Japanese line, divide their army, flank the centre, and compel a retreat. He sent an urgent representation of the situation to General Kuropatkin, asking for reinforcements, and, taking for granted that these would be sent, he plunged in on the second day to win, at last, a victory for Russia. The force against which he had thrown three divisions consisted of a single division of the Japanese, who counted on stopping the advance by dint of the earthworks protecting Sandiapu. Before morning of the second day General Oku, exhibiting the rare initiative and resourcefulness common to all of the Japanese generals, was ready to deal a crushing blow to Gripenberg, and the Russian General in his eagerness to take advantage of the opportunity which he believed had been opened by the apparent advantages of the first day of the fight, fell into one of the most deadly of the many traps from time to time set for Russian commanders. [Sidenote: Gripenberg Fails and Quits Army] To make sure that the Russians would not fail to renew the attack, General Oku caused a decoy battery of useless guns to sweep into position in full view of the Russian lookouts. The bait was too tempting. Gripenberg advanced on the dummy battery into a triangle of death. Batteries on three sides held their fire until the Russian lines had swept into practically point blank range. Then there burst over them a rain of shrapnel and a deadly sweep of rifle fire which spread confusion as hundreds were mowed down. Retreat from the death zone became rout, and General Gripenberg, with Oku's men in full pursuit, left ten thousand dead and wounded behind him in their flight to safety within the main Russian lines north of the Sha-ho. The fight was unimportant in itself, but it led to a personal encounter between Generals Kuropatkin and Gripenberg, which added to the demoralization already existing among the officers of the Russian Army. General Gripenberg bitterly assailed Kuropatkin for having failed to send reinforcements. Kuropatkin declared the only possible value of attack at that time and place was to uncover the strength of the enemy and to reconnoitre his positions, that a general engagement was folly and could not hope to achieve anything. For be it known, the initial advance had been made in a driving blizzard. General Gripenberg gave up his command and left the front for St. Petersburg to lay charges of incapability against the Commander-in-Chief and to join the group at the Russian Capital engaged in intrigue for the downfall of Kuropatkin. In the army the line and staff officers took sides in the bitter controversy that followed, and possibly the fight at Sandiapu, itself so insignificant, did more in the end to bring the disaster of Mukden and Tie Pass than can be estimated. A commander-in-chief, without the confidence of the officers of staff and line, can hardly hope to command the confidence of the men in the ranks. To say the least, the incident, coming so soon before the army was to be locked in a life and death struggle, was not calculated to add to the chances that victory would crown Russian arms. [Sidenote: The Battle Begins] The battle was actually begun on the initiative of the Japanese. By February 19, Marshal Oyama believed he was ready to begin the struggle for Mukden. He prefaced the battle by the prophecy that Mukden would be occupied by his army on March 10, a prophecy which caused only merriment in Russia, but which was literally fulfilled. To General Kuroki was given the honor of firing the first guns of the renewal of the campaign. General Kuroki, after the battle of the Sha-ho River, had wintered on the southern bank of the Taitze River, the centre of his army resting in the neighborhood of Bensihu, thirty-five miles east of Yentai. The Russian line was ten miles north, and the first place to be taken was Tsinkhetchen, at a point where the level river country began to rise to the Tie range of mountains, running in a generally northwest-southeast direction across all of Manchuria, into Mongolia northward, and into Korea southward, passing along the eastern side of the Russian triangle. The task assigned to Kuroki was to drive the Russians from Tsinkhetchen into the foothills to the passes of the mountains, then to take these and to debouch his army on the plains of the Hun River, twenty miles east of Mukden, and eastward of Fushun, then to strike northwestward toward the railroad and line of retreat of the Russian Army northward from Mukden, joining at the railroad the forces under Oku and Nogi, which were to attack from the west. Kuroki's army got under way February 19, crossing the first of the rivers, the Taitse, without opposition. Then the advance was made northward to the Sha-ho, and here the Russian lines were encountered. A surprise night attack cleared away the Russians guarding the Sha-ho at Vanupudza, ten miles east of the railroad. Kuroki then bent northeastward toward the outermost position of the Russian left, avoiding the forces commanding the hills north of the Sha-ho. [Sidenote: The Struggle on the East Front] On February 24 his army delivered a tremendous assault on the Russian positions at Tsinkhetchen, preceding the infantry advance by a bombardment of great force and effectiveness. Three lines of entrenchments were literally destroyed by the fire of siege guns which had been brought from Port Arthur, and despite the tremendous difficulty involved had been placed within range of the Tsinkhetchen positions. The Russian defence was stubborn, but the Japanese were irresistible, and after a few hours of awful carnage General Rennenkampff, commanding the Russians, ordered a retreat. Kuroki failed in an effort to envelop the position, and the Russians reached in safety their main position on this flank at Da Pass. Here one of the bloodiest struggles of the war followed, opening on February 28 and continuing until March 1, when, despite one of the most gallant resistances credited to the Russians, General Kuroki flanked the Pass notwithstanding insuperable obstacles offered by the rugged nature of the country. Then followed a retreat and pursuit, every step of which was marked by fighting of the most desperate nature, thousands of bodies carpeting the gradually rolling country, which finally became the plains along the Hun. Fushun was the Japanese objective. Kuroki bent every energy to roll back the front which Rennenkampff presented, but for ten days after the plain had been reached his army was fought to a standstill. General Linevitch, commanding the division of which Rennenkampff's command was part, checkmated every attempt made to cross the Hun and flank him, while at his front he rolled back as many as thirteen infantry assaults in a single day. This section of the field was remote from the main battle line and few of the details reached the world. With the slow filtering of the story of this fighting it has become apparent that here was waged a struggle even more desperate than that which made history west of Mukden. Kuropatkin appreciated the vital necessity of preventing the turning of his left flank at Fushun, and it must be said to the credit of the Japanese that they were fighting here a force twice the size of their own and one that was continually being reinforced by every battalion that could be spared from the west. The marvel is that Kuroki's army was not utterly annihilated. It was the tremendous fight he made that compelled Kuropatkin to weaken his right to support Linevitch, and it was the fact that the right had been so weakened that made possible the brilliant victories won by the Japanese on the west. Hence, in addition to credit for the great fight he made in carrying out his own share in the battle, Kuroki stands for credit in drawing strength from other positions which materially aided in the ultimate outcome. Nevertheless, until fateful March 10, his army had been fought to a standstill within five miles of Fushun, its objective. The outcome here even encouraged Kuropatkin in the belief that the battle was going his way. [Sidenote: The Battle at the Center] It is necessary, in recording the story of the battle, to leave Kuroki, still fighting in vain to take Fushun and open the road to the Russian rear, and to record events on other parts of the field. The battle line, when both armies had actually been joined, extended for a distance between eighty and one hundred miles. Every event at every position dovetailed into the whole strategy of the battle, yet a vast difficulty is imposed in collating all of the scattered events into a continuous story. No one observer, possibly not the Generals-in-chief themselves, could follow all of the swift moving events, and the best and at that a most difficult achievement was to follow the main trend of events interpreting separate achievements, advances, retrogressions, as they bore on the grand object of each army. The battle of Mukden was, in fact, four battles in one. One of those battles was fought between Kuroki and Linevitch on the east. The second battle within the battle of Mukden was fought between the centre armies and focussed in the beginning of the conflict at Lone Tree, or Putiloff Hill, just east of the railroad, forty-five miles south of Mukden. Here General Nodzu commanded the Japanese and General Kuropatkin in person and General Zassulitch, divisional commander, directed the Russian defence. The battle here began on February 24, the date on which General Kuroki delivered the attack on Tsinkhetchen. General Nodzu's immediate task was to keep the Russian centre too well occupied and in fear of a general assault, thus preventing the sending of reinforcements to the flank, where Kuroki was at his important work. The artillery duel which waged around the centre positions has never been equalled in the history of war. The Russians had at this point alone 530 guns, fifty of them siege guns on permanent emplacements firing eight-inch shells. Putiloff and Novgorod Hill bristled with field and machine guns, and these commanding hills were flanked east and west by fortifications upon which five months' work had been expended and which are perhaps the finest defensive works ever erected on a battlefield. The Russian centre was the hope of the Russian Commander. He claimed impregnability for it, and impregnable it proved. Nevertheless Nodzu sent scores of assaults at its steep slopes, and the later advances were made by the Japanese over the bodies of comrades who had fallen in earlier efforts. The Russian centre resisted without a break, and only left its positions March 7, when events elsewhere resulted in the order to fall back north of the Sha-ho. The story of the struggle here is an exact replica of many which waged in the bloody days of the siege of Port Arthur, though here the loss of life was heavier, since none of the protective engineering devices used at Port Arthur were resorted to. The assaults were simply dashes by Japanese infantry up the bare slopes of a hill rising five hundred feet in the air. It was man unprotected against steel in armor, and the man lost. Behind the Russians was the Sha-ho River. Their second line of defences was sunk in the hillsides and hilltops there. With the river in front, the ice weakened until it was questionable whether men in any numbers could make safe crossing, this position was only a little less strong than the first. All in all, it is little wonder that the Japanese Commander elected only to feint here and deal his blow at other positions. The second line, however, availed the Russians little except to hold in check the pursuit and leave General Nodzu to be only a minor factor in the culmination of the disaster that finally befell the Russians. The centre army, while it played no conspicuous part in the battle, while it was not called upon to repel, and was not expected to take the Russian positions as a vital part of the Japanese strategy, possibly even greater credit belongs to these men who died in droves, knowing that they were being sacrificed as a matter of secondary importance, that upon others elsewhere, miles and miles away, was falling the really great events and upon whom would fall the glory. Whether they knew it or not, there was no faltering. With cries of "banzai" they stormed up Putiloff Hill, up Novgorod Hill; by regiments they fell, and regiments as loyal and heroic took their places, apparently satisfied that all the sacrifice was only to prevent reinforcements from the centre from being sent to the lines northeast, northwest, where their brothers were writing victory in blood across Manchuria's plains. War is essentially waste; waste of men, waste of money. Here the spirit of waste was fully exemplified, yet the waste was a factor if victory was to be won, and Oyama sent his armies to their work bent on victory as perhaps never an army was bent on victory. [Illustration: THE RUSSIAN FLEET IN THE BATTLE OF THE JAPAN SEA.] [Sidenote: Battle Culminates on West] The battle of Mukden, as the whole struggle has been officially called, had its climax on the west. The strategy of Marshal Oyama, as has been explained, culminated in the attack by the army of Port Arthur veterans, commanded by General Nogi. This attack was but part of the assault on the Russian right. The actual Japanese left army was commanded by General Oku, and during the long winter season had occupied a position extending westward from the Sha-ho River to the Hun, upon which at the front the Russian right rested, though when the battle had gotten under way this line was extended fifteen miles farther west to the banks of the Liao River. General Oku's lines and also the Russian lines, which he opposed, occupied a series of unmapped villages, most of them only occupied during the spring, summer and fall, when the fertile river valleys are in cultivation, the products of the region being similar to those of the Northern Central United States, east and west from Chicago as a centre. The village huts are built of rough hewn stone, the walls being of primitive build and oftentimes twelve inches thick. Stone walls around fields are of common occurrence, so that while the country generally was level, it had in these houses and walls many features offering protection to soldiery. To-day not a wall or fence in the whole region but shows the signs of the struggle that waged around them. Immediately after the battle heaps of dead marked every one of these shelters, showing where hand to hand struggles had taken place, as the Japanese, foot by foot, from house to house, from wall to wall, from village to village, had advanced across the plain. General Oku's attack was ferocious. To him had been assigned the task of turning the Russian right back upon Mukden at the centre to make it impossible for this force to assume an offensive initiative and swing northward to cut off Nogi when the culminating attack had been delivered. Sandiapu, that had been the scene of the desperate failure of Gripenberg, was the pivot for the Japanese attack. General Oku avoided the Russian right centre just left of the railroad, because these positions were in part commanded by Putiloff Hill, and the taking of the Russian fortifications here would only mean a falling back under the protection of Russia's impregnable centre. With Sandiapu as a pivot, however, Oku drove the attack in a northeasterly direction, rather than northward, parallel to the Russian lines. His assaults began simultaneously with Kuroki's attack at Tsinkhetchen, and in one tremendous dash the Russian line was broken, crumbled in the plain five miles north of Sandiapu, and the struggle had begun which after ten days' fighting had doubled the Russian flank back until its line, beginning at a point five miles west of the railroad, was bent back at right angles to the line it had occupied at the opening of the battle. This achievement had been accomplished in the face of a determined resistance. Throughout the struggle the artillery was rendered useless for hours at a time, while the infantry engaged in hand-to-hand struggles. The story of the attack on a single of the score or more of villages is typical of all of them. [Sidenote: Village by Village Taken] There was a brief lull just at dawn. Then for an hour field guns roared all along the line searching for the infantry lines and batteries of the enemy. House and walls were the targets. Shells in deadly showers ground walls to dust, ploughed the fields, shaved the crowns from broken ground that might hide creeping lines of troops. An hour of systematic, sweeping bombardment, then the army was ready for the business of the hour. From cover on every side little squads of Japanese troops dashed into the open. Ten yards they sped then threw themselves prone on the ground wherever any approach to protection could be found. Now it was the turn of the Russian guns to bark. From all along their lines in the dusk of dawn resounded the din of artillery. The open, when the advance had begun, instantly grew lividly aflame with bursting shrapnel. It seemed that nothing could live under that awful baptism of steel. Then the din subsided before the Japanese, glasses glued to their eyes, could catch telltale feathers of smoke that even the smokeless powder sends out from big guns. The echoes of the guns are still reverberating far away among the foothills, when up from the ground again spring those lithe, invincible shadows that speed once more ten yards or more and then vanish as they hug the earth. Where there were five, three have survived; here and there a single one gets up to continue the advance where a group had been. But from behind others are making these short dashes, too. The plain finally is fairly alive with troops, dashing forward, taking cover, dashing forward again. Five hundred yards away when they started, their numbers are already thinning when the first hundred yards has been crossed. Others fill the gaps and two hundred yards are crossed, and in the growing light it can be seen that strewn all along the line of the advance are forms that lie stark and still when the living spring to action for those unhalting sprints. Now Russian riflemen are heard from. Rifles crackle from every side, and then death begins high carnival. But the advance goes on. No rising now and speeding those few yards. The Japanese are crawling. The living use the bodies of the dead for protection. Often pushing these before them they cover yard by yard, the zone of death. Now only a hundred yards divides them from the outermost huts of the village. Hotter and hotter becomes the fire of the defenders. In a moment the assault has begun. A hundred, two hundred, are on their feet. Bullets eat holes in their ranks, but only the dead falter. Presently, with the ring of steel on steel, the ranks close. The rifle fire is fitful in the disorder of hand-to-hand fighting. Then up from all parts of the open rise scores of Japanese. They sweep into the midst of the fray, whole companies still coming press the fight. Back through the village from house to house, from wall to wall, goes on the hand-to-hand, man to man duel. Never once did the Japanese fail in the early days of the struggle to drive back the Russian defenders, for when one such attack failed there were countless others eager to begin again the same tactics. [Sidenote: Russian Artillery Impotent] The Russians seemed demoralized by the apparent impotency of their artillery to prevent these advances. Often the Russian lines suffered by their shrapnel, so thoroughly was the ground in front of their positions searched by their gunners. Nevertheless, the guns had hardly hushed before men seemed to spring from the ground and speed on toward them. To the more superstitious there was something uncanny about this little foe. The only solution was the open ranks, the each-man-for-himself, the use of every fragment of shelter. Russian solid formations fairly melted as they rushed into the Japanese shrapnel fire. A single shell mowed down a score. It took ten shells at least to disable a single Japanese because of the way they scattered out over the field. Just behind the final advance of the main force which never moved until the skirmish attack had engaged the Russians too closely for either artillery or a destructive rifle fire, came the engineers with telegraph and telephone equipment. Bamboo poles were swiftly in place, and yard by yard the wire followed the advance. Presently at Oku's headquarters, usually the shelter of a hut within a mile of the actual fighting, would come the thick click, click of the telegraph or the jingle of the telephone. "We have taken the village" was usually the message. Thus village after village was taken in this memorable struggle, until, as has been told, the Russian line had been driven from miles of positions upon which months of labor had been expended and in the closing days of the battle were paralleling the railroad from the Sha-ho to a point five miles northwest of Mukden. Oku had done his part. [Sidenote: When the Crushing Blow Fell] Thus we have told the story of the battle on the Japanese right, centre and rear, up to the time when the assault of the Port Arthur army was to be launched. The battle had continued without intermission from February 24 to March 5. The Japanese on the right or east front had driven back the enemy from his advanced positions across the rugged hills of the Tie range and was battling to drive back that flank on the railroad and to effect an advance to reach a position in the rear of Mukden. At the centre a struggle had gone on without decisive result because, largely, the Japanese only planned to keep this part of the enemy's line busy with fighting until the flank-attack armies achieved positions, either in the rear of Mukden or near enough to strike, and strike hard at the foe should he be compelled to retreat. Oku's army, we have seen, came nearest to accomplishing this task. So far as the actual results of the fighting of these three armies were concerned, while the Japanese everywhere had outfought and had outgeneralled the Russians, there was nothing accomplished which made the situation particularly alarming to Kuropatkin. His left flank, eastward had been driven in twenty miles but with the aid of heavy reinforcements he had checked the enemy five miles away from Fushan and when March 5 drew to a close the reports from that direction to the Commander-in-Chief not only recounted that every assault by the Japanese had been repulsed but that after thirteen bloody reverses on March 4, Kuroki seemed to be drawing away to the south. Hope rose high in the mind of the Russian General. He believed that this attack on the east had been the real strength of the Japanese attack. He perceived that the Japanese had not been in earnest at the center and he attributed reverses on his right to the fact, that he had withdrawn a full division from Lieutenant-General Kaulbars, commanding there and he hoped, now that Kuroki seemed to have given up the struggle, that he could withdraw a force from the east, throw it into the fight west of the railroad, turn the tide against Oku and win a negative victory by defeating the manifest purpose of the Japanese to drive him from the Sha-ho River positions. While his right flank had been bent back through an arc of ninety degrees from the original position on the Hun River they still held a strong line five miles west of the railroad. The falling back of these troops had resulted in a loss of ground but had also resulted in a strong concentration and his lines were capable of greater resistance as a result. Then, too, the Japanese had been fighting continuously for twelve days and must be near the limits of human endurance. Altogether when the sun went down on the field the Russian Commander felt that victory was near. He did not expect a decisive, positive victory but after so long a series of disasters even that sort of victory which consisted only in having prevented the enemy from forcing the abandonment of a position, would have sent a thrill of joy and hope through the army and the Russian nation. It would have inspired the army with confidence for its work. It would have been a weapon at home against the revolutionist, the opponent of the war, the foes of the dynasty. For the General himself it meant a return of confidence in his leadership on the part of the army, on the part of the Emperor. It would go far toward wiping out the record of unbroken defeat, retreat, disaster which had marked the entire campaign. Victory was more vital to Kuropatkin, personally, than to Russia. The General was fighting as much for personal vindication as for the glory of Russian arms. To him, therefore, the outlook for even a negative success was charged with personal happiness. [Sidenote: A Cloud in the West] This was the outlook when day dawned, March 5, 1905. By nightfall of that same day a cloud, no larger then than a man's hand, was rising in the west that was to break in a storm, crushing the Russian defense, banishing the dreams of Kuropatkin. That cloud was the army of General Nogi. The tale must be told from the beginning. Port Arthur capitulated January 2, 1905. A week later General Nogi stood within the heart of the Russian settlement there and reviewed companies from the various army units that had participated in the siege. Out to the world went the message that Nogi's great task was accomplished. But there was other work for Nogi. Within three weeks after the Gibraltar of the Orient had fallen, 80,000 troops, released by that event were bound northward to join the armies under Marshal Oyama, then in winter quarters facing Kuropatkin. The army had been reinforced largely from Japan with fresh troops who had not known the smell of smoke. Enough of these had been sent to equal any possible reinforcement that could be sent to Kuropatkin, as nearly as this number could be estimated. Nogi's army meant reinforcement of an entirely different kind. Here were men inured to the rigors of campaigning by eleven months of as arduous fighting as ever fell to troops in all of the history of war. By the first week in February the entire army had reached its new position west of Liao-yang, ready for whatever mission might be assigned to it. That task was the actual capture of Mukden. More than that, Nogi's men were called upon to break the defence on the east, to strike the railroad north of Mukden, to intercept the line of retreat and to join with Kuroki in the enveloping of the Russian army. It was the crowning work of the battle. It was a tribute to the bravery and skill of the men who had humbled Port Arthur. It was one that meant hardship, all but superhuman exertion, but if they succeeded it meant that chief credit for another great victory would belong to this army of veterans. Nogi's work did not begin until the battle had been well developed on every front. His was to take up the work begun against the Russian right flank by Oku and with a fresh army carry it to a conclusion. As has been shown, Oku prepared the way in a splendid manner. He broke the Russian lines and rolled back the flank from the plains east and west of the Hun River. When this had been accomplished Nogi's army got under way. Leaving their positions west of Liao-yang, the veterans sped northwards. They crossed the Hun at a point a few miles above the junction of the Hun and Liao Rivers where two days before Oku had begun forcing back the Russians. His army after the crossing, was divided, one small detachment, amply supplied with artillery moving swiftly northeastward to the Liao; thence northward to Sinmintin, thirty-five miles due west of Mukden. This city was outside the limits of the war zone as laid down by the Powers in their agreement to preserve the neutrality of China. Nevertheless it had been a veritable supply depot for the Russians, caravans of foodstuffs of all kinds and even of ammunition coming from Chinese points on the Siberian border and from southern coast cities to deliver contraband here to waiting bands of Cossacks. As a result of this use of the city by the Russians the Japanese did not hesitate to enter there. They found a few Cossacks and a great horde of Russian civil officials together with great stores of supplies most of it in carts as it had reached the city ready to start westward for the Russian base at Mukden. Some prisoners were taken but no goods that were not actually in the possession of Russian civil and military officials were seized. [Sidenote: Kuropatkin Ignores Danger] The detachment then began the dash westward along the Sinmintin-Mukden road toward Mukden. On the morning of January 5, they formed a junction with the main force that had marched northward on a line parallel with the railroad, twenty miles west of the Russians and, of course, had met no opposition, so effectively had Oku prepared the way. The news of the arrival of the Japanese at Sinmintin, March 5, was the first intimation of this movement and General Kuropatkin ignored the news imagining that the force had only been a handful of Japanese cavalry raiders. They were raiders, in fact, but there were 80,000 of them and they were under orders from Marshal Oyama to enter Mukden as conquerors on March 10. [Sidenote: Center Positions Abandoned] In their four days' march northward Nogi's army covered 30 miles the first day, 25 miles the second day, 23 miles the third day and 28 miles the fourth day, and after that tremendous feat their real work was before them. The army turned eastward at the Sinmintin-Mukden road, twenty miles from Mukden, and five miles nearer Mukden they met the first resistance. As a protection to Mukden, Kuropatkin had thrown three lines of protective works eastward. Nogi's army came upon the first of these March 6. His troops, swept over the Russian defenders like the sea over a sunken wreck, so swiftly had come the overwhelming attack. March 7, the veterans covered the distance to the second line of defences. In the meantime Kuropatkin had awakened. He saw that he was in danger of being overwhelmed from this unexpected quarter. His visions of victory of March 4, were already fleeting and only two days had gone by. Every available squadron from centre and left were ordered post-haste to meet the danger. The Russian lines that up to this time had only been called upon to concentrate by orderly retrograde movements were called upon to reform the whole line, falling back from his impregnable position at the center, south of the Sha-ho. There was movement everywhere. On the east regiment after regiment moved out and the remaining regiments realigned themselves. This fact is important because it brought Kuroki's opportunity to fulfil the mission that had been entrusted to him and will be told later. Meantime Nogi's veterans rushed on unchecked until March 8, when the Russian resistance showed the strength that had come with the reinforcements. Baron General Kaulbars took immediate command, met and placed the arriving Russian regiments and displayed finer generalship than any general in the entire Russian line throughout the battle. On the east Rennenkampf had splendid plans for offensive movements until General Kuroki made a move, then his plans crumbled like houses of cards and he fought only a defensive fight from start to finish, brilliant though his resistance may have been. But Kaulbars, when his force had been completed, met Nogi manfully and the duel between these great captains forms a notable addition to the history of military achievement. For all the magnificent offensive ability of the Russian General, however, Nogi's veterans would not be denied. The first fifteen miles of their advance was like the rush of a hurricane. Then came the real fighting. This continued March 8, 9, 10, in which time the Russians had been forced back literally step by step on Mukden. Calmly the Japanese General ordered assault after assault on the Russian lines ignoring the heaps of the dead that, when the third day of the battle had brought decisive victory, numbered 20,000 choked into the narrow line of advance through those last five miles to Mukden. The shells from his artillery swept the railroad and the Trade Road that runs beside the railroad over which the Russian center was retreating. If Nogi, in those three days saw 20,000 of his brave men fall and if this imperturbable soldier felt any pang there was balm in the fact that he had inflicted a loss on the enemy of three for every one of his own men who had fallen. [Sidenote: Japanese Ingenuity Marvellous] In the course of the three days whole new chapters were written into books of strategy. The Japanese General and troops answered once for all the accusation that they were mere imitators of western methods. Among the uncanny tricks that they successfully used many have no equal in military annals. Taking advantage of the first dust which began to rise on the second day and played an important part in the whole of the battle, a Japanese force turned their backs on the Russians and fired into the ranks of their own men pushing on behind them. The Russians took the force thus engaged for reinforcements and valorously aided them in holding off the Japanese pursuit. Meantime, back, back, step by step this mock Russian battle line drew nearer and nearer the duped Russians. Presently when only a few yards separated them they turned with the savage battlecry that had carried them over the ramparts of Rihlung fort and practically annihilated the victims of the ruse. This was only one of many unheard of acts which marked the path of Nogi to victory. When shells from his artillery began to reach the railroad his battle front turned as on a pivot around the little town of Tatchekiao and the advance was directed not directly toward Mukden but to a point five miles north of that city as part of the effort to envelop the Russians and more particularly to cut off the retreat. Thereupon the Russian resistance was redoubled in fury. With reinforcements that had been sent to this danger point the Russians outnumbered the Japanese two to one. But just as it was of more and more importance for the Russians to hold Nogi in check so it was more and more important for Nogi to crush the resistance and to drive his wedge in on Mukden. The struggle at every moment was hand to hand. The artillery on both sides fired into the indiscriminate masses of struggling men. Absolute frenzy marked the struggle as waged on both side. [Illustration: THE RETREAT FROM MUKDEN.] [Sidenote: Retreat a Carnival of Slaughter] Slowly but surely the Russian resistance weakened and with dismay Kuropatkin saw that his flank could not withstand the weight of the incessant attack. If the flank should be broken it meant annihilation or surrender for his entire force. Retreat would be impossible except at inhuman sacrifice of life. Already shells were reaching the railroad while the battle was swinging northeastward toward the line of retreat and every possible man had been thrown into the defence. There was only one thing to be done--retreat, and the order went forth on the evening of March 7. Under cover of darkness every available car had been loaded with stores, guns, whatever could be saved. Troops in Mukden piled into miles of box-cars that soon after midnight began the dash northward. The rearguard was organized of the troops then opposing Nogi and such of those from the center as could be made available. These retreated eastward from Mukden leaving as the last of the center army passed northward toward Tie Pass, the next station. The flank that had so long opposed Kuroki in the last crumbling of the Russian defence was completely cut off. The disorder along the front occasioned by the hasty withdrawal of reinforcements for the hard pressed right flank west of Mukden has been mentioned. Kuroki, who amazed the Russians by the readiness with which he interpreted every move that they made, saw in this disorder his opportunity. He had been battling for an opportunity to pierce the Russian line and join with Nogi, but fairly had been checked and held by the tremendous resistance of Rennenkampf. A brigade fell back from in front of the left flank of his army. Another stood ready to fall into its place. But while the very manoeuvre was being carried out Kuroki struck hard directly between the two forces. His wedge went deep into the Russian ranks and the Japanese General threw in behind them every available unit of his army. Desperately the Russians struggled to crush the foe and rejoin their broken lines but the Japanese, every man of them, knew that their hour had come. Thousands fell but thousands took their places. Mile by mile went Kuroki's wedge and by March 10, when on the west Nogi was forcing the vanguard of his fighting line into Mukden, Kuroki at last had won a position from which to strike the long line of Russians now surging northward in a retreat that had now become a rout. [Sidenote: Oyama's Prophecy Fulfilled] Mukden had been taken. Nogi had fulfilled Oyama's prophecy. So far as the long struggle had been for possession of the Sha-ho River position and Mukden it was over. The Japanese had won a momentous victory. Vast spoils had fallen into their possession. Fully twenty thousand prisoners had surrendered when Kuroki had broken through the Russian left, completing the circle of steel around whatever of the Russian army had not already made good its escape north of the line from Fushan to Mukden. There were hundreds of thousands of shells, millions of rounds of small ammunition; there were stores enough to feed the army for months, there was Russian property valued at millions, there were guns, horses, wagons, railroad material, enough for one hundred and fifty miles of track. There was also the knowledge that a loss in men had been inflicted three times as great as the Japanese had suffered. Mukden and Fushan and a score of smaller towns and cities had been taken, invaluable coal mines were now within the Japanese lines practically the last upon which the Russians could rely for fuel with which to operate the railroad. The victory, indeed, from every standpoint, save one, was complete. The Russian army had escaped. This escape had been effected, because despite the wonderful extent of their victory the Japanese armies had failed to meet across the north of the Russian position before the bulk of Kuropatkin's army had swept out of the mouth of the bottle. Nature herself saved them. When on the evening of March 7, Kuropatkin ordered the retreat the great battlefield had already become enveloped in tremendous clouds of blinding dust and snow swirled up from the dry plains by a tremendous gale. Beginning on March 7, this veritable cyclone increased in fury throughout the night of March, 8, and continued with unbroken severity during March 9, 10 and 11, days vital to the Russian army. In the main the Japanese suffered most from the storm. Their object was to find the foe and attack, the Russian object was simply to plunge northward toward safety. Ultimately the storm had reached a degree of violence which made sight impossible and the Japanese pursuit was halted at a moment when it seemed that the full purpose of their Generals' strategy was to be realized. When two days later they were able to take up the pursuit the possibility of complete success had passed. But there was still opportunity to strike the fleeing army and the horrors of that flight and pursuit, from March 12 to March 15, will never adequately be told. The Japanese forced a way parallel to the line of pursuit on both sides and clung relentlessly to the routed army. Here a company was annihilated by furious cavalry charge. Here a regiment was cut off, surrounded and compelled to surrender after awful slaughter. Forty thousand prisoners were taken in the four days of this carnival of slaughter and when the remnants of the Russian army had reached Tie Pass, forty-three miles away, Kuropatkin had lost 170,000 men, killed, wounded and missing. His army had lost fifty per cent. of its strength, a slaughter not equalled in the history of civilization. No parallel exists until the half mythological days of Asian conflicts are reached. CHAPTER XIX. Battle of the Japan Sea--Fleet Russia's Last Hope--Tragedy of the North Sea--Reaches Asiatic Waters--On the Eve of the Struggle--Russians in Double Line--Borodino First to Go Down--Russians in Full Flight--Admiral Nebogatoff Surrenders--Togo's Reports of the Battle--Rozhdestvensky a Prisoner--Searching Sea for Remnants--Japan's Loss Only 424 Men--Your Utmost for the Empire--Russian Line Enveloped--Destroyers Took Last Thrust--As Sailors Saw the Battle--Blowing up the Izumrud--The News Reaches Russia--Russian Story of Disaster--Why Russians Were Defeated. [Sidenote: Battle of the Japan Sea] The Japanese-Russian war has added many pages of awe-inspiring achievement to the vast volume of the world's valorous records of land and sea. Notable, among all of the amazing array, ever will stand the naval battle of the Sea of Japan, fought in the Straits of Korea, Sunday, May 28; Monday, May 29, and continuing as a pursuit on Tuesday, May 30, 1905. Russia's enormous armada of thirty-seven fighting ships, and one hundred ships in all, had been sent to the Far East to recover command of the sea from Japan, which had been won from her in the naval campaign of 1904, when the Russian Port Arthur fleet had been destroyed and the Russian Vladivostok squadron had been weakened to a helpless condition. The result was overwhelming victory for Japan, achieved at the cost to Russia of the annihilation of her entire armada. No naval battle of history equals this in the enormous power of the fighting array; none exceeds it in the degree of its decisiveness. Trafalgar, a hundred years earlier, affords the only possible parallel, and Trafalgar, for a century the world's greatest naval struggle, was outdone. The story begins eight months before these thrilling events in the Straits of Korea, when the Russian fleet, variously called the Baltic Fleet and the Second Pacific Fleet, sailed from Cronstadt, in the Baltic, on its 20,000 mile journey, around Africa and by way of the Indian Ocean to the Orient. [Sidenote: Fleet Russia's Last Hope] The fleet represented every available Russian warship. A half dozen others, too old for active service or still in course of building, were left in Russian waters, the Czar deciding to leave the home shores practically unprotected after securing a secret agreement with Germany, which amounted to a temporary offensive and defensive alliance. The fighting strength of the squadrons included seven battleships, two armored cruisers, six cruisers, with a full complement of torpedo boat destroyers, a fleet equal, on paper, to the entire available navy of Japan, and in some aspects stronger than any Japan could hope to muster. Supreme command of the armada was entrusted to Vice-Admiral Rozhdestvensky, with three divisional commanders, Vice-Admiral Volkersham, Rear Admiral Nebogatoff, and Rear Admiral Enquist. The ultimate task of the fleet was to regain mastery of the sea from Japan, in undisputed possession by reason of having destroyed the Russian Pacific squadrons at Port Arthur and Vladivostok. Vladivostok, Russia's sole remaining port in the Orient, was the destination. From that point it was intended to assail Japan on the sea; to interrupt her transport service, which was vital to her army then in the midst of a victorious campaign, 300 miles from the sea, in the heart of Manchuria, and thus cripple and harass the Island Empire until no other course than to sue for peace would be open to her. The task was enormous; so vastly difficult, indeed, that until the actual departure of the fleet few, anywhere, believed that such a plan was seriously contemplated. Even when departure had been made, experts rather held to the view that Russia, herself, meant to ask for peace and was merely making a demonstration that might be counted on to modify Japan's demands. [Sidenote: Tragedy of the North Sea] The voyage had hardly been begun when an incident occurred, which has been already narrated, and which astonished the entire world and nearly led to war between Russia and Great Britain. In the North Sea, at the point known as the Dogger Bank, the Russian vessels encountered the Gamecock fishing fleet from Hull, England. The Russian admiral mistook some of the trawlers for torpedo boats and ordered his vessels to fire. One fishing boat was sunk and two men were killed, others being badly wounded. For some days the excitement in England was intense, and British official documents published later on showed that the two countries were on the point of war, but the crisis was ended by an agreement to refer the incident to an international naval tribunal. This board of inquiry met in Paris, and after a long investigation reported that the Russian contention that hostile torpedo boats were present when the firing took place was not justified. Rozhdestvensky, however, was acquitted of the charge of conduct unbecoming a sailor, and the incident was ultimately closed by the payment of a large money indemnity by Russia. The Dogger Bank affair caused some delay to the Russian ships, though not nearly as much as Englishmen expected. After leaving the Straits of Gibraltar the fleet divided, one division, under Admiral Rozhdestvensky, proceeding by way of the Cape of Good Hope and the other, under Admiral Vollkersham, going via the Suez Canal. Rozhdestvensky had with him most of the battleships and Voelkersam the majority of the cruisers. Both squadrons proceeded very slowly, and the reports from time to time regarding their whereabouts were of the most puzzling character. On January 1, however, Rozhdestvensky reached Madagascar, and there he awaited the cruiser squadron. The long time spent there led to renewed assertions that the Admiralty at St. Petersburg would never order the fleet to the Far East. In the middle of March, however, reports were printed that the Russians had sailed. These reports were denied, and then repeated, and at length it was definitely established that the Baltic fleet had sailed. [Sidenote: Fleet Reaches Asiatic Waters] Nothing more was heard of it till April 8, when the news came that the fleet had passed Singapore and was in the China Sea. On entering the China Sea, Admiral Rozhdestvensky sailed directly to Kamranh Bay, on the coast of Indo-China, in French territorial waters. The prolonged stay of the fleet resulted in a vigorous protest from Japan to France, back of which was the possibility that Japan would invoke the Anglo-Japanese alliance, calling upon Great Britain to compel respect of neutrality by France. France, in addition to instructing her representatives in Indo-China to demand that the Russians leave territorial waters, forwarded the protest to Russia. [Sidenote: On the Eve of the Struggle] Admiral Rozhdestvensky, on the eve of the great struggle, had dismissed every unnecessary ship. More than a half hundred colliers and supply ships, which had accompanied the fleet or had met it in the China Sea, were dismissed after the last ton of coal had been stored on the big fighting ships. THE RUSSIAN FLEET. Displace- I. H. P. Nominal Gun Weight of Name ment speed protection broadside --Tons. --Knots. --In. fire--Lbs. Kniaz Suvaroff 13,516 16,800 18.0 11.6 4,426 Alexander III 13,516 16,800 18.0 11.6 4,426 Borodino 13,516 16,800 18.0 11.6 4,426 Orel 13,516 16,800 18.0 11.6 4,426 Oslabya 12,674 14,500 19.0 10.5 2,672 Sissoi Veliky 8,880 8,500 16.0 12.5 3,186 Navarin 9,476 9,000 16.0 12.5 3,404 ARMORED CRUISERS. Dmitri D'skoi 5,893 7,000 15.0 12.2 444 Admiral Nakhimoff 8,500 9,000 19.0 6.0 944 PROTECTED CRUISERS. Oleg 6,675 19,500 23.0 4.0 872 Aurora 6,630 11,000 20.0 4.5 632 Svietlana 3,828 8,500 20.0 4.0 476 Almaz 3,285 7,500 19.0 184 Jemtchug 3,200 17,000 24.0 184 Izumrud 3,200 17,000 24.0 184 THE JAPANESE FLEET. Asahi 15,000 15,000 18.0 14.6 4,232 Shikishima 15,000 15,000 18.0 14.6 4,232 Mikasa 15,000 16,000 18.0 14.6 4,232 Fuji 12,300 13,000 18.0 14.6 4,005 ARMORED CRUISERS. Tokiwa 9,750 18,000 21.5 6.6 1,779 Asama 9,750 18,000 21.5 6.6 1,779 Yakumo 9,850 16,000 20.0 6.6 1,679 Azuma 9,436 17,000 21.0 6.6 1,679 Idzuma 9,800 15,000 24.7 6.6 1,779 Iwate 9,800 15,000 24.7 6.6 1,779 Kasuga 7,853 14,000 20.0 6.6 1,686 Nisshin 7,853 14,000 20.0 6.6 1,606 PROTECTED CRUISERS. Takasago 4,300 15,500 24.0 4-1/2 804 Kasagi 4,784 15,500 22.5 4-1/2 804 Itsukushima 4,277 5,400 16.7 11.4 1,260 Hashidate 4,277 5,400 16.7 11.4 1,260 Matsushima 4,277 5,400 16.7 11.4 1,260 Naniwa 3,727 7,120 17.3 1,200 Takishibo 3,727 7,120 17.3 1,200 Atkitsushima 3,150 8,400 19.0 380 Nitaka 3,420 9,500 20.0 466 Tsushima 3,420 9,500 20.0 466 Suma 2,700 8,500 20.0 335 Akashi 2,700 8,500 20.0 335 Idzumi 3,000 6,000 18.0 335 From the Saddle Islands, a thousand miles stretched away to Vladivostok. Coal and stores for the dash there were on every ship. Then prows were turned northward, there was a full day when nothing was known of the Russians. Then came this word, that the great destiny-laden armada was sighted approaching Admiral Togo's lair in the Straits of Korea. Forty-eight hours more, and the Japanese admiralty was electrified by the characteristically modest announcement from Japan's great naval captain: "The main force of the Russian second and third fleets is nearly annihilated. Please feel assured of it." Between lies a tale marvelous for brilliancy, valor, daring, for all that is spectacular and awe-inspiring in war; for all that spells glory to the victor; for all that defeat, disaster, can mean to the beaten and crushed. In brief, of Russia's seven battleships, five had been sunk, and two, captives, were flying the flag of the victor; Of the mighty array of cruisers, all but four were at the bottom of the sea. Of the destroyers, three were afloat. In the harbor of Vladivostok were a single unarmored cruiser, and these three destroyers, the sorry fragments of the armada that reached this destination for which the flower of Russia's European squadron had set out. Sixty hours after the battle three armored cruisers, the _Aurora_, _Oleg_ and _Jemtchug_, laden with wounded, riddled with shot and shell, crept into the harbor of Manila, there to be interned, with their officers, Admiral Enquist among them. As a climax to the victory, Admiral Rozhdestvensky was a prisoner, badly wounded, and in the care of Japanese physicians in the naval hospital at Sasebo. Admiral Volkersham was dead. He had fallen in the first havoc-working broadside from the Japanese fleet. Admiral Nebogatoff was a prisoner. Without a fight he had surrendered two battleships and two coast defense ironclads, with the result that after the battle that had annihilated the Russian fleet, the Japanese fleet was even more powerful than when it cleared decks for action. The Russian fleet had, in truth, sailed into Admiral Togo's lair. The Straits of Korea lie between Japan and Korea, and are an average of one hundred miles wide. Half way across rise the Tsu Islands, which Japan has fortified until they are a veritable Gibraltar. Only twenty-five miles wide is the Tsushimi Channel or Strait, between Tsu Island and the Japanese coast. [Sidenote: Under Guns of the Forts] So narrow indeed is the water that as the Russian ships were pressed eastward toward Tsu Island the forts there got range of the battleships and sank the _Oslabya_. Togo's base was at Masampho, on the Korean coast. Thousands of Japanese knew this fact, but so deeply was the necessity for secrecy appreciated by all classes of the islanders that throughout the nine months of waiting the entire world never had the slightest intimation of the point from which Japan's defensive blow would be struck. The general impression was that Formosa, the southernmost of the Japanese archipelago, would be chosen. This opinion was fostered by show of activity there and by various orders calculated to mark this spot as of especial significance in the campaign. When Rozhdestvensky had traversed the Straits of Formosa without opposition and had reached the China coast north of there, Russians even rejoiced, declaring that their admiral had outwitted the Japanese by eluding their trap. Meantime Togo waited. His position enabled him to meet the enemy should the direct route to Vladivostok via the Straits of Korea and the Sea of Japan be chosen, or he was in position to sail northward to intercept the Russians should Rozhdestvensky decide to go further eastward into the Pacific, circle Japan, and finally approach Vladivostok by La Pelouse or another of the channels between the northern islands of the Japanese archipelago. When Rozhdestvensky headed north from the China coast toward the Straits of Korea he fell in with the plan of battle to meet which the whole genius of the Japanese admiral had been preparing. Only one detail failed to agree with what Togo had expected. He believed that the Russians would shun the narrow channel east of Tsu Island, nearer Japan, and would traverse the western channel between Tsu Island and Korea. In the latter event the blow would have been dealt by a dash from Mesampho. As it happened, the fleet had only to round the northern promontory of Tsu Island and fall upon the Russians in the most disadvantageous position that could have been found in all of the waters of the Orient. The strength of the fleets as they approached on that fateful Saturday morning may be shown in tabular form. The chief units are here given. In addition, there were twelve torpedo boat destroyers with the Russian fleet and a veritable swarm of destroyers and torpedo boats with the Japanese fleet. Nevertheless, the armada, with practically twice the number of Japanese battleships, would, on paper, have advantage over a large fleet, made up so largely of lighter vessels. [Sidenote: Russians in Double Line] The Russian fleet advanced in a double line, the battleships on the side away from the Japanese coast; the inner line, nearer Japan, made up of cruisers and light craft. Admiral Togo swung northward of Tsu Island, then turned sharply toward the southeast, thus moving parallel to the line of bows of the Russian ships, opening the broadsides of all of his ships, while through practically all of the first day's battle the Russians had only available bow and forward guns, a manoeuvre which eliminated enough of the effectiveness of the Russian battleships to give Togo an advantage despite his weakness in these floating fortresses. It had been planned that the initial attack should be made by the giant twelve-inch guns of the Japanese big ships, and that under cover of this bombardment the torpedoers and destroyers should dash for the leading Russian ships and attempt to throw the enemy's column into confusion. The commanders of the torpedoing flotilla had previously been summoned and had been notified in a few words by the admiral of the desperate service that was required of them and of the small chance of any of them reporting again for duty. They were told, in fact, that it was a simple case of sacrifice, and they accepted it so willingly that the admiral found it difficult to detail a torpedo reserve in case the first division failed in its task. Until sunset the heavy guns of the Japanese battleships and the ten-inch battery of the cruiser _Kasuga_ roared and fired at the oncoming Russians, while the Russian guns roared in reply. [Sidenote: Borodino First to Go Down] First of the Russian battleships in line behind the protected cruiser _Jemtchung_ was the 13,000-ton _Borodino_, and these two soon showed that they were receiving the brunt of the shelling. The cruiser _Nakhimoff_, in the van of the Russian port column, was also observed to be in distress, and then, the sun having set and the quick-setting darkness having come, the torpedoes were sent out under cover of a still heavier cannonade. The flotilla formed into two divisions, one heading for the battleship column of the Russians and the other for the cruisers. The searchlights of the Russian fleet threw out their great beams and their small gun batteries swept the sea but the swift hornets of the sea went wallowing and buzzing on their way. They circled and swept, and then came the dull roars and heaving fountains that told that the torpedoes had been loosed from their tubes and were doing their deadly work. Again and again came the roars, and as the Japanese searchlights swept across the field of fight and then went out it was seen that the great battleship _Borodino_ was sinking; that the protected cruiser _Svietlana_ was a wreck; that the battleship _Alexander III_ had gone; that the two armored cruisers _Dimitri Donskoi_ and _Nakhimoff_ were out of the fighting. A far-sailing shell had also reached and sunk the supply ship _Kamchatka_. Thus ended the first day's fight. [Sidenote: Russians in Full Flight] In the darkness of the night of Saturday, May 27, the shattered Russian fleet reformed as well as it might, and once more took up its despairing run for the Sea of Japan and the haven of Vladivostok. Hanging on to the already beaten enemy, an easy matter with his faster ships, Togo picked up the Russians all of Saturday night with his searchlights, occasionally sending a long-distance shell toward one of the shadowy hulls that were racing to get through the straits. But just as Togo had selected his fighting ground for working out one chapter of the tragedy, so now he chose the scene of the second day's fighting. To the northeast of Osino Island lies a dangerous little archipelago known as the Liancourt Rocks, and with his battleships and heavily armored cruisers the Japanese admiral stood out in crescent form across the Korean Strait and drove the enemy toward this dangerous running. Keeping together in some semblance of order, five Russians, consisting of the battleships _Nicolai I_ and _Orel_ and the coast defence vessels _Senyanin_ and _Apraxine_ and the protected cruiser _Izumrud_, were heading bravely for the Sea of Japan. Seeing a possibility of their escape, Togo, who was personally conducting the pursuit, signaled to close in and attack. With their forward turrets blazing and roaring, the Japanese squadron dashed on. The Russians replied vigorously for a time, but the gunnery of the Japanese was too deadly and accurate; shells were carrying death and destruction into the fleeing five, and the fight went out of the Russians. [Sidenote: Admiral Nebogatoff Surrenders] One after another flew surrender signals, the Japanese ceased firing, and the _Nicolai I_, _Orel_, _Senyanin_ and _Apraxine_ were added to the Mikado's navy. Only the _Izumrud_ got away. Fleeter than her sisters, she steamed boldly to the northwest. But she was doomed. Swift pursuing Japanese cruisers followed, hurling after her tons of metal, much of it taking effect. The end came when the Russian ship, entering Vladimir Bay, went fast on a reef. The Russian captain blew up the ship. So practically ended the second day's fight, and here again the apparently impossible happened--Togo's captains all reported, "No damage to men or ships." Togo's captains, had, however, other things to report, for while the main force of the combined squadron was hammering the four Russians into subjection off the Liancourt Rocks others of the cruisers were chasing scattered Russian ships, while still others were completing the work of destruction around Osino Island. Two special service ships and a destroyer were captured, and so was the armored cruiser _Monomach_, but she foundered soon after transference of flags. And there were prisoners to report, 3,000 of them, including the unhappy Nebogatoff, while up and down the seas the fight between pursued and pursuer still went on. Battles at sea are necessarily fought away from the eyes of neutral observers. The active participants are unable to know of more than the immediate scene of the drama in which their own ship is engaged. Even the admiral of the fleet is unable to see all that occurs. Hence detailed, continuous accounts of such occurrences rarely, if ever, are written until years later the disconnected stories of here one, there another, can be assembled, corrected, dovetailed. Sufficient time has not elapsed since this remarkable battle to permit of such assembling of facts. But both Japanese and Russians have told of individual experiences. These have a graphic interest, coming hot from the scene of the great events which, perhaps, a more finished narrative might lack. First in interest, come the actual reports from the admiral himself. Few great fighters have been men of fewer words than this Togo. His reports, and, indeed, all of the Japanese reports, have been in marked contrast to the elaborate, verbose messages sent to the Emperor of Russia. The story of the battle, as told by Admiral Togo, follows: First report, received morning May 27: [Sidenote: Togo's Reports of the Battle] "Immediately upon the receipt of report that Russian squadron was in sight our combined squadron started for attack. Weather is fine to-day, but with heavy seas." Second report, received night May 27: "Combined squadron attacked Russian squadron to-day near Okinoshima (southeast of Tsushima) and defeated it, sinking at least four ships and inflicting heavy damage upon others. Damage to our ships is insignificant. Our destroyer and torpedo flotillas delivered attack after sunset." Third report, received Monday, May 29. "Main force of our combined squadron continued pursuit since the 27th, and attacked (28th) near Liancourt Rocks (northeast of Okinoshima) a squadron consisting of _Nicolai I_ (battleship), _Orel_ (battleship), _Senyanin_, _Apraxin_ and _Izumurud_. _Izumurud_ fled while remaining four vessels surrendered. No damage to our ships. According to statements of prisoners, vessels sunk in engagement May 27 were _Borodino_ (battleship), _Alexandre III_ (battleship), _Jemtchug_ and three other ships. Rear Admiral Nebogatoff and about 2,000 other Russians were taken prisoners." The following are damages suffered by enemy in addition to those given above since commencement of battle, as reported by commanders not under immediate command of Togo and by observation stations: SUNK--_Admiral Nakhimoff_, _Dmitri Donskoi_, _Svietlana_, _Admiral Usakoff_, _Kamchatka_, _Irutshush_ and three destroyers. _Vladimir Monomach_, foundered after capture. One special service ship, whole name unknown, and one destroyer captured. Russian losses definitely known so far may be classified as follows: Two battleships, one coast-defence ship, five cruisers, two special ships, three destroyers were sunk; two battleships, two coast-defence ships, one special service ship, one destroyer were captured. It is not yet clear whether three vessels, as stated by prisoners to have been sunk, are included or not in above list. There are more than 1,000 prisoners, besides 2,000 taken by main force of combined squadron. "The naval engagement is still in progress, so that it will take some time before the final results can be known." Fourth report from Togo received afternoon, May 30: "The main force of our combined fleet, upon accepting surrender of the remaining Russian main force near Liancourt Rocks, in the afternoon of May 28, as already reported, stopped pursuit, and while engaged in the disposition of surrendered ships found in a southwestern direction the _Admiral Ushakoff_, a coast defence ship. Thereupon _Iwate_ and _Yakumo_ were immediately dispatched in pursuit and invited her to surrender, but she refused and was sunk at 6 P. M. Her crew of over 300 men were rescued. "Cruiser _Dimitri Donskoi_ was also found in the northwestern direction at 5 P. M. and was immediately overtaken and was fired upon vigorously by our fourth division and second destroyer flotilla. "She was attacked that night by the second destroyer flotilla, and the next morning was found aground on the southeastern shore of Urleung Island, off the Korean coast. [Sidenote: Rozhdenstvensky a Prisoner] "Our destroyer _Sazanami_ captured, toward the evening of May 27, in the south of Urleung Island, the Russian destroyer _Biedovy_, wherein were found Admiral Rozhdestvensky and another admiral, both severely wounded, together with eighty Russians, including staff officers from the flagship _Kniaz Suvaroff_, which was sunk at 5.29 P. M. on May 27. They were all taken prisoners. "Our cruiser _Chitose_, while cruising to the northward on the morning of May 28, found and sunk another Russian destroyer. Our cruiser _Niitaka_ and destroyer _Murakumo_ attacked also at noon on May 28 a Russian destroyer, which finally went aground. "According to various reports hitherto received and statements of prisoners, the result of the battle from May 27 to May 29, is as follows: "_Prince Suvaroff_, _Alexander III_, _Borodino_, _Dimitri Donskoi_, _Admiral Nachimoff_, _Monomach_, _Zemtchug_, _Admiral Ushakoff_, one converted cruiser and two destroyers sunk. "_Nicolai I_, _Orel_, _Admiral Apraxine_, _Admiral Senyavin_ and destroyer _Biedovy captured_. According to the prisoners, the _Osliabia_ sunk about 3 P. M., and the _Navarin_ also was sunk. "_Almaz_, on May 27, was observed in a disabled and sinking condition, but her final fate is yet unknown. "The full particulars regarding the injury to our ships are not yet in hand, but as far as I could ascertain none was seriously injured, all being still engaged in operations. The whole casualties are not yet ascertained. Casualties of first division are a little over four hundred. Prince Yorhito is in excellent health; Admiral Misu slightly wounded, May 27. "Fifth report, received the afternoon of May 30: "Loss of _Osliabia_, _Navarin_, confirmed. _Sissoi-Veliki_ also definitely reported to have sunk on the morning of May 28. "Official statement of Russian losses so far as ascertained: Following six battleships sunk: _Prince Suvaroff_, _Imperator_, _Alexander III_, _Borodino_, _Osliabia_, _Sissoi-Valiki_ and _Navarin_. "Following five cruisers sunk: _Admiral Nachimoff_, _Dimitri Donskoi_, _Vladimir_, _Monomach_, _Svietlana_ and _Zemtchug_. "Coast defence ship _Admiral Ushakoff_ sunk. "Two special service ships, _Kamchatka_ and three destroyers also sunk. "Two battleships, _Orel_ and _Imperator_, _Nicolai I_; two coast defence ships, _General Admiral Apraxine_ and _Admiral Senyanvin_, and one destroyer, _Biedovoy_, captured. "Thus Russians lost altogether twenty-two ships, the aggregate tonnage whereof amounting to 153,411 tons, besides cruiser _Almaz_, suspected to have sunk. "Later reports from the different divisions of the fleet engaged in the naval battle of May 27 show as follows: [Sidenote: Havoc Among Battleships] "The Russian battleship _Oslabya_ was heavily damaged in the early part of the fight on Saturday, going down at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. "The first Russian vessel sunk was the battleship _Sissoi Veliky_. "The armored cruisers _Admiral Nakhimoff_ and _Vladimir Monomach_, after being in the general engagement during the daytime, were still further damaged by torpedoes during attacks by night, and were eventually completely disabled. They drifted into the vicinity of Tsu Islands, where they were discovered on Sunday morning, May 28, by the auxiliary cruisers _Shilano_, _Yawata_, _Tainan_ and _Sado_, which were about to capture them, but they all sank. "The crews of our auxiliary cruisers rescued 915 of the crew of the sunken Russian ships. "The battleship _Navarin_ was torpedoed four times after sundown on Saturday, May 27, and sunk. The survivors of the Navarin's crew confirm the story of her destruction. "The cruisers _Niitaka_ and _Otawa_ discovered the Russian cruiser _Svietlana_ at 9 o'clock on Sunday morning in the vicinity of Chappyan Bay and immediately attacked and sunk her. The commander of the _Niitaka_ reports the fact. "It is suspected that the Russian cruisers _Almaz_ and _Aurora_ were sunk by torpedoes on the night of May 27. "The former report includes the statement that the Russian cruiser _Jemtchug_ was sunk, but as yet this remains unconfirmed, and the cruiser's name has been excluded from the revised list of Russian vessels destroyed. "Judging from this and former reports, the enemy's main strength, consisting of eight battleships destroyed or captured, three armored cruisers and three coast defence ships destroyed or captured, with the second-class cruisers and other vessels destroyed, the enemy's fighting power is thus annihilated. "Later reports show that during the night of May 27 our torpedo boats, numbered 34, 35 and 69, were sunk by the enemy's fire. Comrades rescued the majority of their crews. Besides the above, there was no damage worth reporting. No warship nor destroyer suffered any loss of fighting or navigating power. [Sidenote: Searching Sea for Remnants] "We anticipated a heavy loss of life, but find that our casualties were comparatively slight. They do not exceed 800 killed and wounded. The casualty reports will be rendered as speedily as possible in order to reassure families and friends. "Nearly the whole strength of both combatants met in battle, and the area of the fighting was very wide. "The first day proved foggy, and even without the smoke and fumes resulting from the battle it was impossible to see five miles. Consequently, during the day it was impossible to locate or observe all the ships under my command. Moreover, the fighting having lasted two days, and the ships of my command being scattered for the purpose of chasing and attacking the enemy, some having received special orders after the battle, it is impossible to collect and frame any detailed report covering the whole battle at the same time." Admiral Togo telegraphed, May 30, as follows: "The ships sent northward to search for Russian ships returned yesterday. The cruisers _Iwate_ and _Yakumo_ and other vessels sent southward to find Russian ships, returned to-day. They thoroughly searched the Shanghai course from Tsushima and vicinity, but on both sides found no trace of the Russians." Admiral Shimamura, on board the cruiser _Iwate_, reports: "During the battle on May 27, at 3.07 P. M., the cruiser _Iwate_ vigorously attacked the protected cruiser _Jemtchug_ at a distance of 3,000 metres. The _Jemtchug_ sank in one minute. The loss of the _Jemtchug_ is, therefore, confirmed. "During the engagement fire broke out on the _Jemtchug_ and smoke concealed the hull of the vessel. Consequently the remainder of our fleet were unable to see the ship." Admiral Togo gave this list of casualties, surprisingly small even to himself, for he had estimated his losses as 800 men. [Sidenote: Japan's Losses Only 424 Men] "The Japanese losses in the battle of the Sea of Japan were 113 officers and men killed and 424 officers and men wounded. The completion of the revised list shows that the losses were fewer than the original estimates. The flagship _Mikasa_ was the heaviest loser, losing 63 killed and wounded. The losses were distributed among the ships of the fleet as follows: _Mikasa_, 63; _Adzuma_, 39; _Shikishima_, 37; _Asashi_, 31; _Fuji_, 28; _Idzuma_, 26; _Nisshin_, 27; _Otowa_, 26; _Kasaga_, 26; _Tsushima_, 19; _Asama_, 15; _Naniwa_, 17; _Tokiwa_, 15; _Yakumo_, 11; _Chitose_, 6; _Idzumi_, 10; _Kasaga_, 9; _Hashidate_, 5; _Niitaka_, 4." The casualties on the destroyers and the torpedo boats were 87. Commander Togo was wounded on the _Adzuma_. Admiral Togo concluded his series of reports with this absolutely accurate statement of the ships that had escaped, in the main a remarkable feat, when the conditions of alternating fog and sunshine and the natural confusion among the Russians is taken into account. "The Russian vessels present in the recent battle which were not sunk or captured and which are unaccounted for are," Togo's report adds, "the protected cruisers _Oleg_, _Aurora_, _Izumrud_ and _Almas_, three transports, two torpedo boat destroyers and one towboat. During the battle the _Oleg_ and _Aurora_ were within range of our third and fourth squadrons and were on fire. They may have escaped, but it will take time to restore their fighting power." A Japanese officer described the battle more connectedly in the following words: [Sidenote: Your Utmost for the Empire] "At 5.30 Saturday morning a wireless message, reading, 'The enemy's squadron is in sight,' reached the naval base. This message was transmitted to all our ships by the flagship, with instructions to get ready for action. Our squadron left their rendezvous and headed for the eastern channel off Tsushima. Our men seemed to be filled with new inspiration, and were eager for the long-delayed fight to begin. "When Tsushima was sighted to the southwest the sea was rough and the torpedo boats were forced to run for the shelter of the island. Our third fighting squadron, with the _Takashiho_ to port, reconnoitred the Russian course, and at 11.30 A. M. informed the main squadron by wireless telegraph that the Russian ships were passing into the east channel, whereupon our main squadron, changing its course somewhat to the southward, came in sight of Okinshima at 1 o'clock in the afternoon. The third division arrived later and joined the main squadron. The first and second divisions, accompanied by the destroyer flotilla, changed to a westerly course, while the third division and the fourth destroyer flotilla headed slightly eastward. "During the manoeuvre the Russian flagship appeared to the southward, at 1.45 o'clock. The Russians steamed up in double column. The fleet was numerous, but no living being was visible. The Russian ships seemed to be in good order. Our ships hoisted the flag of action, the _Mikasa_ signaling: 'The defence of our empire depends upon this action. You are expected to do your utmost.' Our men seemed to silently weigh the significance of this signal. [Sidenote: Russian Line Enveloped] "Our first and second divisions turned to the Russians' starboard, while the third division kept in close touch with the preceding two divisions. With the Japanese ships proceeding in this order, it was 2.13 o'clock when the Russians opened fire. The first two shots fell short of our line, and it was some minutes later before we commenced firing. Then the battle was on, with firing from both sides. Our destroyers kept on the port side of the main squadron, and in this formation we pressed the Russians against the coast of Kiushiu, and they were obliged to change their course to the east. "We so manoeuvred our ships as to have their bows parallel to the north side of the Russian line. The _Mikasa_, of our first division, which had been leading, changed to the rear of the line, while the _Kasuga_ headed the line. The engagement now became very fierce. The _Borodino_ was seen to be on fire. A little later the Russians headed west, and we changed our course accordingly. Five ships of our second division concentrated their fire on the _Borodino_. Our first division now began firing vigorously, proceeding parallel with the Russian line, and as we began to press against the head of the Russian line our third division veered to the Russian rear, thus enveloping their ships. "The engagement proceeded hotly. Our second division followed a course parallel with the northern side of the Russians, and this movement completed the envelopment. The Russian ships were seen trying to break through, and our destroyer flotilla intercepted their new course. This state of envelopment continued until the following day, with the ships at varying distances. Thus enclosed on all sides, the Russians were helpless and powerless to escape the circle. [Sidenote: Destroyers Took Last Thrust.] "Previous instructions had been given the destroyers and torpedo boats to attack the Russian ships. Following instructions, the fifth destroyer flotilla advanced against a Russian ship, upon which the second division had been concentrating its fire, signaling, 'We are going to give the last thrust at them.' "The Russian ship continued to fight, and seeing the approaching torpedo boats, directed its fire on them. Undaunted, our destroyers pressed forward, the _Chitose_ meantime continuing its fire. The torpedo flotilla arrived within 200 metres of the Russian ship and the _Shiranus_ fired the first shot. Two other torpedo boats fired one each. The _Shiranus_ received two shells, but the other boats were not damaged. The Russian ship was sunk. "Sundown saw the battle raging furiously. Our shells were evidently telling on the Russians, who showed signs of confusion. Our fifth torpedo flotilla, after destroying the _Borodino_, followed in the wake of our second division, the signal reading, 'Something like the Russians' submarines have been sighted. Attack them.' "The flotilla followed and located the object, which proved to be a sinking ship with its overturned bottom showing. Thirty survivors clung to the wreck, crying for assistance. Firing ceased with the approach of darkness. "According to orders previously given for a torpedo attack after dark, all the destroyer flotilla, dividing into two squadrons, proceeded to attack the Russians during the whole night. The Russians frustrated the first and second attacks with searchlights. A third attempt was carefully made, and the _Yugiri_ sank a ship of the _Borodino_ type, and also hit others. During the night the Russians continued to move, and we preserved our enveloping movement some distance from the Russian position. The Russian ships headed northeast after daybreak, hoping to reach Vladivostok. Our officers and men were determined that not a ship should escape, and resolved not to relax their efforts until they had succeeded in either sinking or capturing every Russian ship. "Our ships always kept ahead of the Russians. The battle was resumed at 9 o'clock Sunday morning, twelve miles east of Chiyupyon Bay, and lasted all day. Here the Russians suffered their heaviest losses. They seemed unprepared to repel night attacks. During our first night attack the Russians showed nine searchlights and frustrated the attacks, but clearly gave us the location of the fleet, which brought success later." Still another version has been supplied by Japanese tars, as follows: [Sidenote: As Sailors Saw the Battle] "At dawn on Saturday our squadron left its rendezvous and advanced through the Tsushima Channel. At 2.08 in the afternoon we sighted the Russian fleet. Gradually closing in, we found the _Kniaz Souvaroff_ leading the line, with the _Borodino_, the _Alexander III_, the _Orel_, the _Osliabia_ and the _Navarin_ following in the order named. The _Nicolai I_ brought up the rear. Parallel to this line we observed five cruisers. After them came the special ships and torpedo boat destroyers. We counted thirty-two Russian ships in all. "Our fleet, with the battleship _Mikasa_ leading, proceeded toward the Russians in vertical line formation. The _Souvaroff_ opened fire first and then suddenly turned, reversing her course. Almost simultaneously the _Mikasa_ opened fire with her big guns, and thus the curtain rose on the great sea battle. The hostile fleets gradually closed in toward each other, exchanging a vigorous fire. The armored cruiser _Asama_ approached within 3,000 metres of the Russian fleet and carefully observed its action. "After a short but fierce fight the _Admiral Oushakoff's_ deck was observed to be ablaze, and the ship left the line. By 4.30 in the afternoon the Russian line was disordered and its fire slackened. The _Borodino_ and _Kamchatka_ had been disabled and soon sank. The _Borodino_ continued to fire bravely until the ship was submerged. "The Japanese fleet continued to maintain enveloping positions from sundown until dawn. Sunday morning opened misty, but the weather soon cleared, and the search for the remnants of the Russian fleet was begun. Five Russian ships were discovered in the vicinity of Liancourt Island, and they were immediately surrounded. One, supposed to be the _Izumrud_, escaped at full speed. The remaining four offered no resistance, and hoisted the Japanese flag over the Russian colors, apparently offering to surrender. Captain Yashiro, commanding the _Asama_, started in a small boat to ascertain the real intentions of the Russians, when Admiral Nebogatoff lowered a boat and came on board the _Asama_, where he formally surrendered. The prisoners were distributed among the Japanese ships, and prize crews were selected to take possession of the captured vessels." [Sidenote: The Capture of Rozhdestvensky] To have destroyed the Russian armada was, of itself, an amazing feat; but to have captured the commander-in-chief, and to have compelled the surrender of an admiral of the line, add vastly to the glory of Togo. The story of Rozhdestvensky's capture is dramatic. The destroyers, _Kasumi_, _Usugumo_, _Sazanami_ and _Kagerou_, were ordered to attack the Russian warships on the night of May 27 and were steaming ahead when they suddenly encountered a number of Russian ships. The _Kasumi_ narrowly avoided a collision with a Russian cruiser, the closeness of which seems to have saved the destroyers from being damaged by the heavy fire which the Russians directed on them. During the Russian attack the vessels forming the destroyer flotilla divided. The _Sazanami_ and _Kagerou_ continued the search for Russian ships throughout the night, and in the morning discovered two torpedo boat destroyers. One of them steamed away, but the other was unable to do so. On approaching the latter the Japanese discerned a white flag flying from the foremast and the Red Cross flag astern. She proved to be the _Bedovi_ with Admiral Rozhdestvensky and his staff on board. The _Bedovi_ signalled that her engines were damaged, and that she was short of coal and water. An armed guard was sent on board the _Bedovi_ to receive her surrender. The Russians requested the Japanese not to remove Admiral Rozhdestvensky and the other officers on account of their wounds, and the Japanese complied, with the understanding that the guard would shoot Rozhdestvensky in the event of the delay leading to a meeting with Russian ships, thus running the danger of his recapture. The _Sazanami_ ran a line to the _Bedovi_ and began to wing her. The line parted twice. In the morning the _Sazanami_ met the Japanese cruiser _Akashi_, which convoyed the two destroyers to Sasebo. During the trip the destroyers encountered heavy seas, and their decks were awash during part of the time. [Sidenote: Chiefs of Japan's Fleet] Thirty naval commanders participated in the battle of the Japan Sea. Vice Admiral Togo was commander-in-chief, leading the first squadron. Vice Admiral Kamamura was in command of the second squadron, and Rear Admiral Kataoka led the third squadron. The chiefs of staff in the order named were Admiral Kato and Captains Fujii and Saito. The commanders of the squadron divisions were Vice Admirals Dewa, Uriu and Mitsu, acting as rear admirals under Vice Admiral Togo, Captains Yamada, Shimamura, Taketomi and Kokura. [Sidenote: Blowing Up the Izumrud] The fate of the cruiser _Izumrud_ is a chapter of itself in the story of the battle. Baron Ferzen, her captain, with survivors of the ship's crew, reached Vladivostok on June 1 and sent a report, which, in addition to confirming the disaster to the entire fleet, told the fate of his own ship. The Baron reported that before dark, on May 27, the _Osliabya_, _Alexander III_ and _Borodino_ had been sunk, and the _Kniaz Souvaroff_, the _Kamtchatka and_ the _Urel_ had been seriously damaged and were lost to sight. The command then devolved on Rear Admiral Nebogatoff. In the evening the _Nikolai I_, the _Orel_, the _General Admiral Apraxine_, the _Admiral Seniavin_, the _Admiral Oughakoff_, the _Sissoi Veliky_, the _Nevarin_, the _Admiral Nakhimoff_, and the _Izumrud_ sailed northeastward, the latter being charged to transmit orders to the battleships. Two other cruisers were cut off from the fleet and were not again seen. The battleships, steaming at fourteen knots, were repeatedly attacked by the Japanese torpedo boats, especially at the extremities of the line. At dawn it was ascertained that the battleship division consisted of the _Nikolai I_, the _Orel_, the _General Admiral Apraxine_ and the _Admiral Seniavin_. At sunrise, May 28, smoke from the Japanese ships reappeared on the horizon, whereupon the admiral gave orders for increased speed. The _Admiral Seniavin_ and the _General Admiral Apraxine_ dropped behind. Toward 10 o'clock, the Japanese fleet appeared first to port and then to starboard, while the cruiser division manoeuvred behind the Russians to starboard. Baron Ferzen's account continues: [Sidenote: Flight Ends in Disaster] "I was cut off from the squadron and finding it impossible to rejoin it resolved to make for Vladivostok. I put on full speed and the enemy's cruisers came on in pursuit. Owing to the insufficiency of my coal supply and the certainty of meeting the enemy's cruisers, I subsequently altered my course for Vladimir Bay, where I arrived on the night of May 29. At 1.30 o'clock next morning, in pitch darkness, the _Izumrud_ ran full on a reef at the entrance of the bay. Having only ten tons of coal and seeing that it would be impossible to again float my vessel, I ordered the crew ashore and blew up the _Izumrud_ to prevent her falling into the hands of the enemy. Ten of my sailors were wounded in the battle, but the officers and the rest of the crew are all safe." [Sidenote: The News Reaches Russia] Intimations of the extent of the disaster first reached Russia through foreign telegrams. The emperor and naval officials hoped against hope that their own advices would bring some ray of comfort. It was hoped that a portion of the fleet might reach Vladivostok strong enough to aid in protecting the fortress against attack from the sea. One unprotected cruiser and three torpedo boat destroyers were all of the splendid fleet that ever were to reach Vladivostok. The cruiser _Almaz_, which by reason of her lack of protective sheathing had been ordered by Rozhdestvensky to flee in event of battle, got through the Japanese lines with a minimum of damage, though well scarred by shots that had reached her by chance. Captain Chagir, her commander, speedily communicated with the emperor at St. Petersburg through Lieutenant General Linevitch, commander-in-chief in the Far East. This was the message: "The cruiser _Almaz_ has arrived at Vladivostok. Her commander reports as follows: "'On May 27, Vice Admiral Rozhdestvensky's fleet in the Tsu Strait engaged the Japanese in battle. During the day we lost the battleships _Kniaz Souvaroff_, _Borodino_, _Osliabya_, and the cruiser _Ural_. The battleship _Alexander III_ was seriously damaged at the start of the battle. "'After the separation of the cruiser _Almaz_ from the fleet the battle was renewed in the darkness. The result of the night battle is not known.'" The _Almaz_ was cut off from the fleet and reached Vladivostok. "Supplementary reports of the commander of the _Almaz_, forwarded by the post commandant at Vladivostok, state that the transport _Kamtchatka_ was seriously damaged." "The _Almaz_ had Lieutenant Mochalin and four sailors killed and ten sailors wounded. There is no news as to those who were saved or those who perished on the sunken warships." The arrival of the _Almaz_ has thus been described by an eye witness at Vladivostok: The _Almaz_, which arrived at her anchorage here Monday evening, May 29, bore scars of the battle. Her mizzen mast was shot away, and one of her smokestacks was pierced by a cannon shot. But the _Grozny_, though engaged for several hours in a running fight at short range with a large Japanese destroyer, showed no signs of the fray. After her commander, Captain Andriffski, had been wounded, and an officer and three men had been killed, the _Grozny_ succeeded in sinking her opponent with a luckily placed shot, and reached Vladivostok without further adventure. For two days Vladivostok had been buzzing with rumor and excitement. The fact that a battle between the rival fleets was imminent, if Rozhdestvensky was not already at hand-grips with Togo, was made known through telegrams from Europe, and when it was learned Monday morning that a Russian cruiser had been sighted off Askold Island, headed for the harbor, the city was filled with the wildest reports of every nature. [Sidenote: Story of Russian Survivors] The inhabitants clustered in the streets, thronged the waterside or climbed the frowning hills overlooking the harbor for a better view. Finally, toward 6 o'clock in the evening, a graceful cruiser with two snowy-white stacks, shot in view at the entrance to the Golden Horn and rounded to an anchorage beneath the bristling guns of the curving promontory. From afar the broken stump of her mizzen-mast and a shot hole showing black upon the white paint of one stack indicated that the cruiser had encountered the Japanese. As the anchor chain rattled in the hawse holes the vessel wreathed itself in smoke--it was an admiral's salute in honor of Rear Admiral Von Jessen. Scarcely had the boom of the last cannon begun to echo from the surrounding hills when Von Jessen's flagship, the cruiser _Rossia_, answered the salute, and a minute later the guns of the fortress took up the cannonade. Excitement beyond description seized the thronging spectators, who, with frantic "huzzas," tossed high their caps. Citizens embraced each other and danced jubilantly upon the pier, while the crews of the ships in the harbor joined in wild cheering. In a thrice the boats were dropped from the davits, and in a moment the officers of the cruisers and torpedo boats in the harbor and the military officials from the fortress were swarming on board the _Almaz_ to learn news of the fight. [Sidenote: Saw Flagship Go Down] The story was short. According to the officers of the _Almaz_, the fleet under Rozhdestvensky met the Japanese in the Straits of Korea, near Tsu Island, and the opposing fleets immediately closed in. Being lightly armored, the _Almaz_, as had been expected by Admiral Rozhdestvensky before the battle, separated itself from the main fleet at the first opportunity and headed for Vladivostok soon after the commencement of the action, but not too soon to observe that the losses on both sides in the titanic combat were great. Early in the battle an officer of the _Almaz_, while watching Rozhdestvensky's flagship, the battleship _Kniaz Souvaroff_, for a signal, saw the flagship shudder from stem to stern, as if under a blow from a gigantic hammer, and hesitate in her course, while the waves rose high from her armored sides. Then she commenced to list and sink. The officers believe that the debut of the submarine boat as an effective agent in naval warfare, or perhaps a large mine caused the disaster to the _Kniaz Souvaroff_. The damage, however, was so extensive that the flagship soon went down, leaving the deck officers and many of the crew struggling in the waves. One of the Russian torpedo boats, either the destroyer _Buiny_ or the _Bravi_, ran in and picked up a number of the swimmers, one of whom was recognized through a glass as Admiral Rozhdestvensky. Under a grueling attack by the Japanese warships, aided by torpedo boats, mines and submarines, the _Borodino_, _Osliabia_ and _Ural_ were placed out of action and followed the flagship to the bottom. The fog, which had raised and lowered intermittently during the morning, began to settle down again, and the distance of the _Almaz_, which now succeeded in disengaging herself in the combat from the struggling ships, made it difficult for her to see clearly. The arrival of the _Grozny_ on the following day was marked by the same scenes of excitement as those which characterized the advent of the _Almaz_. The wounded commander of the destroyer, Captain Andriffski, confirmed the details given by the officers of the _Almaz_. He described his combat as a running fight, in which the _Grozny_ was engaged for several hours, finally sinking the pursuing Japanese destroyer. [Sidenote: Russian Story of Disaster] From this and further fragmentary reports the Russians pieced together a story of the disaster. They figure that Admiral Togo, with his main squadron, must have lain somewhere off the coast of Korea, while Admirals Kamimura and Uriu held their squadrons further north to head off the Russian vessels which might get through Togo's lines or be prepared to bar the entrance to the Straits of Tsugaru in case the Russians should be reported moving up the east coast of Japan. When Togo's scouts reported that Admiral Rozhdestvensky was heading for the eastern channel of the Straits of Korea the Japanese Admiral steamed around the northern part of the Tsu Islands, and came upon the Russians steaming in double column, with the cruisers to port. Togo enjoyed the great advantage of tactical position when he opened fire, having the lightest of the Russian ships between him and Rozhdestvensky's heavier vessels, thus smothering the fire of the latter. Besides, Togo was able to use all his broadsides, whereas the sternmost ships of the Russian columns, coming on in line ahead formation, could probably only with difficulty use any guns at all. When Sunday morning came the Russian fleet was divided. The faster and stronger division, under Rozhdestvensky, was met by Kamimura and Uriu, while the slower division, under Nebogatoff, renewed the fight with Togo. With some of the scattered Russian units it was a case of save himself who can. In the running fight the Japanese enjoyed the advantage of superior speed, enabling them to concentrate their fire and bring every crippled Russian ship to bay. Admiral Nebogatoff's battered remnant surrendered off Liancourt Rocks, while Rozhdestvensky, with the best remaining battleships, fought on for the honor of the Russian navy. Torpedo attacks were the feature of the Japanese program, which more surely than anything else brought disaster. Torpedo boats in night attacks launched their deadly missiles within a hundred yards of their Russian targets. They completely encircled the Russian ships, swarming like angry hornets. Much of the sweeping character of the victory will ultimately be traced to these comparatively tiny craft, fighting under the shower of shells being hurled from the big guns of the battleships and cruisers far away. Summarizing scattered reports, the results of the battle may be accurately stated to be annihilation for Russian sea power in the Far East. Thirty-seven Russian warships of all classes entered the Korean Straits. Of these, three, a cruiser, and two destroyers, reached Vladivostok; three armored cruisers reached Manila; two battleships and two coast defence ships were captured and were taken to Sasebo; one destroyer, found helpless at sea, was towed to Shanghai; leaving a total of twenty-six ships that were sent to the bottom, five of them battleships. The Russian loss in life reached a total of 6,500 men, one admiral and ten captains among them. The loss to Russia in gold amounted to $75,000,000. Japan's loss in ships was three torpedo boats and a few more than 400 men. Experts the world around failed to find adequate explanation for this amazing disparity. As summarized at Tokio, these are reasons which in part contributed to Admiral Rozhdestvensky's defeat: [Sidenote: Why the Russians Were Defeated] "First. An imperfect reconnaissance and incomplete, faulty and misleading intelligence. "Second. An imperfect battle formation, which indicated that Rozhdestvensky did not expect to meet Togo off Tsushima. "Third. The weather, the direction of the wind and the sunlight were unfavorable to the Russians, Togo having the sun behind him and firing with the wind, while the Russians had the sunlight in their eyes and fired against the wind. "Fourth. The Russians wasted their ammunition and eventually their supply ran short. It is believed that the surrender of Nebogatoff was necessary because his ammunition had been expended. "Fifth. The marked inferiority of the Russian gunnery." [Sidenote: Japan Honors Togo] Japan hailed Togo as the nation's hero. A popular subscription will raise to him a giant lighthouse on lofty Tsu Island, commanding the sea for a radius of eighty miles, the area through which the battle was waged. [Illustration: PEACE ENVOYS IN SESSION AT PORTSMOUTH. Copyrighted by Brown Bros., New York, 1905. The Russians, from left to right are C. Berg, M. Pokotiloff, M. Witte, Baron Rosen and M. Nabokoff. The Japanese from left to right are Mr. Adatchi, Mr. Otchiai, Baron Komura, Minister Takahira and Mr. A. Sato.] CHAPTER XX. Aftermath of the Victory of the Sea of Japan--The World Hopes that Peace Will Result--The President of the United States Takes the Initial Step--Meantime the Japanese Decline an Armistice--Operations Begun for the Seizure of Saghalien Island--Japanese Landing Parties Successful--Russians Continue Flight After Series of Conflicts--Japanese Take Chief Town of Island, Alexandrovsk, July 25--Flight of Russians and Pursuit Continued--Governor of Island and Remainder of Garrison Surrender to Japanese, July 30--Russia and Japan Accept President's Proposal to Meet and Discuss Terms of Peace--America Chosen as Scene of Meeting--Envoys Named--Portsmouth, N. H., Selected as Scene of Meeting--Russian and Japanese Envoys Formally Received by the President at Oyster Bay, August 5--Sessions of Peace Conference Begin at Portsmouth, August 9--Conference Adjourns Without Achievement, August 18--President Begins Effort to Effect Compromise, August 19--Japan Withdraws Demand for Indemnity and Other Demands on Which There Had Been a Deadlock, August 29--Announcement Made That Peace is Assured--Work of Drafting Treaty Begun--Peace Treaty Signed--The Treaty of Peace. A wave of awe went 'round the word when the full effects of the Battle of the Sea of Japan were realized. Russia stood before the world in the light of a thoroughly vanquished nation. On land her armies had been invariably defeated in a series of battles of stupendous magnitude. Her original Asiatic fleet had been annihilated. Her last great effort to stem the victories of Japan, the sending of a vast Armada to the Orient, had resulted in complete annihilation of that fleet. The nations forgot to grieve for the thousands slain in the hope that this last crowning disaster to Russia would bring what every civilized land had desired for months--an end to the titanic war. [Sidenote: President Takes Initiative] While this was the universal wish it remained for the President of the United States to take the initiative. The fact that, with the exception of a minor campaign for the possession of the Island of Saghalien, off the Siberian coast, this was really the closing chapter of the war, has added a brilliant feat to the annals of American diplomatic achievements and has placed the name of Theodore Roosevelt eternally among those of the famous benefactors of humanity. [Sidenote: Japanese Take Saghalien] As has been said, one minor martial enterprise remained for the Japanese. Saghalien Island, blanketing the coasts of Siberia for a distance of 700 miles, had been secured by Russia from Japan by a treaty partaking, it was claimed by the Japanese, the nature of a coercive measure. Among the objects for which the Japanese had entered upon the war were to secure permanent fishing rights in the waters along the Siberian coast and the recession of Saghalien Island to her. The seizure of this Island, too, was a necessary corollary of a land and sea campaign against Vladivostock, which would have been the next step in her military campaign had not the war come to an end. There was little surprise, therefore, when the Tokio government, while giving consent to a proposal that the belligerent nations meet to talk of peace, refused to consent to an armistice. Possession of Saghalien Island was still to be gained. The Japanese campaign began when a landing was effected on the East coast of the Island on July 8. The Russian garrison numbered 8,000 men and while there were defensive works of some strength at a number of points, the defenders were helpless before the advance of the invaders. The campaign amounted to a half dozen engagements, mere skirmishes, when compared with the battles of the Manchurian campaign. The Russians made a brave defence, but lost position after position and the subjugation of the Island was completed on July 30, when the Russian Governor and 3,500 men surrendered "in the name of humanity." Five days previously the Japanese had occupied Alexandrovsk, the chief town of the Island and co-operative naval forces were disposed so that the escape of the garrison from the Island to the mainland was impossible. The slaughter of the entire force of the defenders could have been the only result of continued resistance. The Japanese announced the organization of a civil administration of the Island the moment the surrender had been completed, and were thus in possession of what was actually Russian territory. This fact was important to the Japanese from several standpoints. The Island is rich in minerals, it is the centre of the vast fishing industry of the North Pacific and has strategic value on account of its position with regard to the entire Siberian littoral. More important than any of these circumstances, however, was the fact that it had been soil over which flew the Russian flag. The Japanese contemplated making a demand for indemnity at the forthcoming peace conference. Precedent demanded that there should have been the occupation of territory to make valid such a claim. The occupation of Saghalien gave this necessary basis for the indemnity demand which, ultimately was presented and only withdrawn when it became apparent that the war must go on unless Japan withdrew her claim. But the conquest of Saghalien marked the last of actual warfare between Japan and Russia. President Roosevelt had sent an identical note to Japan and Russia on June 8, calling upon each, in the name of humanity, to meet to discuss terms of peace and the whole Saghalien campaign had gone on while, following this request, diplomatic machinery had been slowly at work preparing the way for the peace conference. The rest of the story of the Japan-Russia War has to do with the events which finally called permanent truce to the long struggle and caused a million fighting men and their auxiliaries to turn their faces from the rugged plains of Manchuria, where thousands on thousands had given their lives for their Emperors and their Fatherlands. [Sidenote: Preparing for Peace Parleys] Russia's acceptance of the President's invitation reached Washington on June 12, two days after Japan had announced her assent. A ripple was caused by difficulty in choosing a place for the meeting. Russia preferred an European capital. Japan would not consent to any that could be named. Russia ultimately yielded the point, and on June 15, with the consent of both of the belligerents, Washington was named, and a day within the first ten days of August was accepted for the assembling of the envoys. The Czar named Sergius Witte, greatest statesman of the Empire, to head the peace delegation, with Baron Rosen, Russian ambassador at Washington, as his associate. The Mikado named Baron Komura as chief of the Japanese delegation, and as his associate, Mr. Takahira, Japanese Minister to the United States. Accompanying each was a suite of a dozen secretarys, legal and military experts and interpreters. On July 11, the President named Portsmouth, N. H., Navy Yard as the actual place of meeting. It was feared that Washington, under the torrid conditions usually prevailing there in mid-summer, would prove a too uncomfortable place for the guests of the nation to spend the weeks that must necessarily be consumed in the negotiations. The Japanese envoys and their suite reached New York on July 25. M. Witte, the chief Russian envoy, arrived in New York with his suite on August 2, and was joined by Baron Rosen, his associate. Both the Japanese and the Russian delegations were informally presented to the President at his summer home at Oyster Bay, N. Y., prior to the formal reception of the two peace missions which took place on the President's yacht, the Mayflower, in Oyster Bay on August 5. The President, in a toast to which no reply was given, expressed the hope that a "just and lasting peace" might be arranged. The envoys and their suites were conveyed in warships to Portsmouth, reaching that city on August 7. The envoys were formally welcomed by United States officials and the Governor of the State of New Hampshire. The Hotel Wentworth, on an island off the mainland was made their place of residence. The newly constructed general stores building in the Navy Yard, which had been elaborately fitted up with every possible convenience, was designated as the scene of the sessions. [Sidenote: The Japanese Terms] The first meeting of the envoys was held on August 9. The Japanese terms were presented in twelve sections, as follows: I. Recognition of Japan's "preponderating influence" in Korea. II. Mutual obligations to evacuate Manchuria, Russia to retrocede to China all special privileges. III. Japanese obligations to restore the sovereignty and administration of China in Manchuria. IV. Mutual obligations to respect the territorial and administrative integrity of China and the principle of the "open door." V. The cession of the Island of Saghalien. VI. The surrender of the Russian leases in the Liaotung Peninsula, including Port Arthur, Dalny and the Blonde and Elliott Islands. VII. The cession of the branch of the Chinese Eastern Railroad from Harbin southward. VIII. The retention by Russia of that portion of the railroad line through northern Manchuria connecting the Transsiberian road with Vladivostock. IX. The reimbursement of Japan for the war--commonly spoken of as the indemnity. X. The surrender of Russian warships which have been interned in neutral ports during the war. XI. The limitation of Russia's naval forces in the Pacific. XII. The question of fishing rights of Russia and Japan off the Siberian coast. [Sidenote: Japan Makes Peace Possible] These demands, one by one, were discussed by the envoys. It developed that Russia absolutely refused to grant an indemnity, to surrender warships interned in Chinese and American ports, or to cede to Japan the Island of Saghalien. Whatever hope of compromise there seemed to be with regard to the other questions at issue it was regarded as absolutely essential to the signing of a treaty of peace that Russia should yield on the subject of indemnity. The President's efforts were directed toward accomplishing this result under some other name than indemnity. It was proposed to arrange for the payment of the amount demanded as a purchase price for Saghalien, or for the railway rights over which Japan had become master. No compromise would be listened to by the Czar, "Not a kopeck for indemnity," was the phrase of M. Witte, and there was no yielding. By shrewd diplomatic manoeuvring the Russian envoy had placed Japan in a position which meant that were the war to be continued it would be upon the responsibility of Japan and for the sole reason that money must be had. The Tokio government, after long discussion, decided upon a magnanimous course, which at once won the encomiums of the whole civilized world. She yielded every point in dispute, gave up her demand for indemnity, gave up half of Saghalien, gave up her claim upon the interned warships and, though triumphantly victorious in every step of the war, accepted terms of peace dictated by the nation she had conquered, and this "in the name of humanity." Russia had won the victory on the face of it, but the historian will credit to Japan the greater and the real victory, a victory of vast moral and humanitarian significance. The glad news went out to the world on August 29, that the envoys had agreed upon every point and that a treaty of peace would forthwith be drafted. To Prof. Maartens, the famous authority of international law and to Mr. Dennison, an American, long an adviser of the Japanese Foreign Office, was assigned the task of actually drafting the treaty in accord with the general agreement that had been reached by the envoys. Their work was speedily accomplished and the "Treaty of Portsmouth" brought to an end this struggle that had cost hundreds of thousands of lives, billions of dollars and had completely changed the status of political power in the Far East. The treaty of peace was finally signed at Portsmouth, N. H., on September 5, 1905; Sergius Witte and Baron Rosen signed for Russia, while Baron Komura and Mr. Takahira signed for Japan. It was signed by the Emperors of Russia and Japan and made public October 16, 1905. TEXT OF THE TREATY. The text of the treaty is as follows: The Emperor of Japan, on the one part, and the Emperor of all the Russias, on the other part, animated by a desire to restore the blessings of peace to their countries, have resolved to conclude a treaty of peace, and have for this purpose named their plenipotentiaries, that is to say, for his Majesty the Emperor of Japan, Baron Komura Jutaro, Jusami, Grand Cordon of the Imperial Order of the Rising Sun, his Minister for Foreign Affairs, and his Excellency, Takahira Kogoro, Imperial Order of the Sacred Treasure, his Minister to the United States, and his Majesty the Emperor of all the Russias his Excellency Sergius Witte, his Secretary of State and President of the Committee of Ministers of the Empire of Russia, and his Excellency Baron Roman Rosen, Master of the Imperial Court of Russia, his Majesty's Ambassador to the United States, who, after having exchanged their full powers, which were found to be in good and due form, have concluded the following articles: ARTICLE I. There shall henceforth be peace and amity between their Majesties the Emperor of Japan and the Emperor of all the Russias, and between their respective States and subjects. ARTICLE II. The Imperial Russian Government, acknowledging that Japan possesses in Korea paramount political, military and economical interests, engages neither to obstruct nor interfere with measures for guidance, protection and control which the Imperial Government of Japan may find necessary to take in Korea. It is understood that Russian subjects in Korea shall be treated in exactly the same manner as the subjects and citizens of other foreign Powers; that is to say, they shall be placed on the same footing as the subjects and citizens of the most favored nation. It is also agreed that, in order to avoid causes of misunderstanding, the two high contracting parties will abstain on the Russian-Korean frontier from taking any military measure which may menace the security of Russian or Korean territory. ARTICLE III. Japan and Russia mutually engage: First.--To evacuate completely and simultaneously Manchuria, except the territory affected by the lease of the Liaotung Peninsula, in conformity with the provisions of the additional article 1 annexed to this treaty, and, Second.--To restore entirely and completely to the exclusive administration of China all the portions of Manchuria now in occupation, or under the control of the Japanese or Russian troops, with the exception of the territory above mentioned. The Imperial Government of Russia declares that it has not in Manchuria any territorial advantages or preferential or exclusive concessions in the impairment of Chinese sovereignty, or inconsistent with the principle of equal opportunity. ARTICLE IV. Japan and Russia reciprocally engage not to obstruct any general measures common to all countries which China may take for the development of the commerce or industry of Manchuria. ARTICLE V. The Imperial Russian Government transfers and assigns to the Imperial Government of Japan, with the consent of the Government of China, the lease of Port Arthur, Talien and the adjacent territory and territorial waters, and all rights, privileges and concessions connected with or forming part of such lease, and it also transfers and assigns to the Imperial Government of Japan all public works and properties in the territory affected by the above-mentioned lease. The two contracting parties mutually engage to obtain the consent of the Chinese Government mentioned in the foregoing stipulation. The Imperial Government of Japan, on its part, undertakes that the proprietary rights of Russian subjects in the territory above referred to shall be perfectly respected. ARTICLE VI. The Imperial Russian Government engages to transfer and assign to the Imperial Government of Japan, without compensation and with the consent of the Chinese Government, the railway between Changchunfu and Kuanchangtsu and Port Arthur, and all the branches, together with all the rights, privileges and properties appertaining thereto in that region, as well as all the coal mines in said region belonging to or worked for the benefit of the railway. The two high contracting parties mutually engage to obtain the consent of the Government of China mentioned in the foregoing stipulation. ARTICLE VII. Japan and Russia engage to exploit their respective railways in Manchuria exclusively for commercial and industrial purposes and nowise for strategic purposes. It is understood that this restriction does not apply to the railway in the territory affected by the lease of the Liaotung Peninsula. ARTICLE VIII. The Imperial Governments of Japan and Russia with the view to promote and facilitate intercourse and traffic will as soon as possible conclude a separate convention for the regulation of their connecting railway services in Manchuria. ARTICLE IX. The Imperial Russian Government cedes to the Imperial Government of Japan in perpetuity and full sovereignty the southern portion of the Island of Saghalin and all the islands adjacent thereto and the public works and properties thereon. The fiftieth degree of north latitude is adopted as the northern boundary of the ceded territory. The exact alignment of such territory shall be determined in accordance with the provisions of the additional article II annexed to this treaty. Japan and Russia mutually agree not to construct in their respective possessions on the Island of Saghalin or the adjacent islands any fortification or other similar military works. They also respectively engage not to take any military measures which may impede the free navigation of the Strait of La Perouse and the Strait of Tartary. ARTICLE X. It is reserved to Russian subjects, inhabitants of the territory ceded to Japan, to sell their real property and retire to their country, but if they prefer to remain in the ceded territory they will be maintained and protected in the full exercise of their industries and rights of property on condition of submitting to the Japanese laws and jurisdiction. Japan shall have full liberty to withdraw the right of residence in or to deport from such territory of any inhabitants who labor under political or administrative disability. She engages, however, that the proprietary rights of such inhabitants shall be fully respected. ARTICLE XI. Russia engages to arrange with Japan for granting to Japanese subjects rights of fishery along the coasts of the Russian possession in the Japan, Okhotsk and Bering Seas. It is agreed that the foregoing engagement shall not affect rights already belonging to Russian or foreign subjects in those regions. ARTICLE XII. The treaty of commerce and navigation between Japan and Russia having been annulled by the war the Imperial Governments of Japan and Russia engage to adopt as a basis for their commercial relations pending the conclusion of a new treaty of commerce and navigation the basis of the treaty which was in force previous to the present war, the system of reciprocal treatment on the footing of the most favored nation, in which are included import and export duties, customs formalities, transit and tonnage dues and the admission and treatment of agents, subjects and vessels of one country in the territories of the other. ARTICLE XIII. As soon as possible after the present treaty comes in force all prisoners of war shall be reciprocally restored. The Imperial Governments of Japan and Russia shall each appoint a special commissioner to take charge of the prisoners. All prisoners in the hands of one Government shall be delivered to and be received by the commissioner of the other Government or by his duly authorized representative in such convenient numbers and at such convenient ports of the delivering State as such delivering State shall notify in advance to the commissioner of the receiving State. The Governments of Japan and Russia shall present each other as soon as possible after the delivery of the prisoners is completed with a statement of the direct expenditures respectively incurred by them for the care and maintenance of the prisoners from the date of capture or surrender and up to the time of death or delivery. Russia engages to repay to Japan as soon as possible after the exchange of statement as above provided the difference between the actual amount so expended by Japan and the actual amount similarly disbursed by Russia. ARTICLE XIV. The present treaty shall be ratified by their Majesties the Emperor of Japan and the Emperor of all the Russias. Such ratification shall be with as little delay as possible, and in any case no later than fifty days from the date of the signature of the treaty, to be announced to the Imperial Governments of Japan and Russia respectively through the French Minister at Tokio and the Ambassador of the United States at St. Petersburg, and from the date of the latter of such announcements this treaty shall in all its parts come into full force. The formal exchange of ratifications shall take place at Washington as soon as possible. ARTICLE XV. The present treaty shall be signed in duplicate in both the English and French languages. The texts are in absolute conformity, but in case of a discrepancy in the interpretation the French text shall prevail. SUB-ARTICLES. In conformity with the provisions of articles 3 and 9 of the treaty of peace between Japan and Russia of this date the undersigned plenipotentiaries have concluded the following additional articles: SUB-ARTICLE TO ARTICLE III. The Imperial Governments of Japan and Russia mutually engage to commence the withdrawal of their military forces from the territory of Manchuria simultaneously and immediately after the treaty of peace comes into operation, and within a period of eighteen months after that date the armies of the two countries shall be completely withdrawn from Manchuria, except from the leased territory of the Liaotung Peninsula. The forces of the two countries occupying the front positions shall first be withdrawn. The high contracting parties reserve to themselves the right to maintain guards to protect their respective railway lines in Manchuria. The number of such guards shall not exceed fifteen per kilometre and within that maximum number the commanders of the Japanese and Russian armies shall by common accord fix the number of such guards to be employed as small as possible while having in view the actual requirements. The commanders of the Japanese and Russian forces in Manchuria shall agree upon the details of the evacuation in conformity with the above principles and shall take by common accord the measures necessary to carry out the evacuation as soon as possible, and in any case not later than the period of eighteen months. SUB-ARTICLE TO ARTICLE IX. As soon as possible after the present treaty comes into force a committee of delimitation composed of an equal number of members is to be appointed respectively by the two high contracting parties which shall on the spot mark in a permanent manner the exact boundary between the Japanese and Russian possessions on the Island of Saghalin. The commission shall be bound so far as topographical considerations permit to follow the fiftieth parallel of north latitude as the boundary line, and in case any deflections from that line at any points are found to be necessary compensation will be made by correlative deflections at other points. It shall also be the duty of the said commission to prepare a list and a description of the adjacent islands included in the cession, and finally the commission shall prepare and sign maps showing the boundaries of the ceded territory. The work of the commission shall be subject to the approval of the high contracting parties. The foregoing additional articles are to be considered ratified with the ratification of the treaty of peace to which they are annexed. In witness whereof the respective plenipotentiaries have signed and affixed seals to the present treaty of peace. Done at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, this fifth day of the ninth month of the thirty-eighth year of the Meijei, corresponding to the twenty-third day of August, one thousand nine hundred and five. (September 5, 1905.) ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Transcriber's note: Names, italicized phrases, and inconsistencies in capitalization and hyphenation have been left as printed. Otherwise, obvious typographical errors, punctuation errors, and inconsistencies in the punctuation of sidenotes and captions have been corrected. Illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up paragraphs, thus the page number of the illustration might not match the page number in the List of Illustrations. On page 278, "Commander-inChief" has been changed to "Commander-in-Chief" ("During the months which had elapsed since the arrival of the Russian Commander-in-Chief at the seat of war"). On page 373, "silhouttes" has been changed to "silhouettes" ("two long dark silhouettes, emitting quantities of smoke and evidently steaming at high speed"). On page 374, "silhouttes" has been changed to "silhouettes" ("two long, dark silhouettes emitting quantities of smoke"). On page 427, "(9)" has been changed to "(10)" ("(10) Wounds inflicted by modern arms heal readily"). On page 433, "mobility" has been changed to "immobility" ("the inexorable grasp of the Manchurian winter had fallen upon them and frozen them into immobility"). On page 458, "unrecord" has been left as printed ("continued under these unrecord of the actual campaign"). On page 507, "tht" has been changed to "the" ("General Oku avoided the Russian right centre just left of the railroad"). On page 518, "Russians resistance" has been changed to "Russian resistance" ("Thereupon the Russian resistance was redoubled in fury"). On page 537, counts of ships have been left as printed.