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.