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.