A SILENCED GUN IN PORT ARTHUR.
A SILENCED GUN IN PORT ARTHUR.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
DESOLATION IN MANCHURIA.
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.
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."
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.
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 manœuvring 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."
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 manœuvres. No sign of the enemy was perceived, and the fleet returned to the harbor in safety.
BLOWING UP OF THE PETROPAVLOVSK.
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 manœuvre, 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.
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.
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.
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.
ARRIVAL OF A DISPATCH FOR GENERAL KUROPATKIN.
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.
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 manœuvring 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
RUSSIAN CONCENTRATION ON THE YALU.
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.
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.
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.