‘It is necessary, economically.’ He gave her the various reasons advanced by Mutsuhito.
Elizabeth shuddered. ‘It seems so, well, unreasonable, that because we do not have quite enough here in Japan we should simply seize it from someone else.’
‘It is the way of the world. Is this not what Russia has been doing throughout northern Asia for the past two hundred years? Or,’ he hastily added, ‘Britain throughout the world for an equal period. Or, indeed, America during the past fifty years? All great empires are founded on naked force.’
‘And Japan is to be a great empire,’ she said sombrely.
‘It is Mutsuhito’s ambition, certainly.’
She sighed. ‘But war . . . will there be fighting at sea?’
‘Almost certainly.’
‘The Chinese fleet is much stronger than ours.’
‘On paper. It remains to be seen if they are better fighters, too. We know they are not better seamen.’
She knew him too well to be taken in by his forced optimism. ‘Yet you cannot be certain of victory.’
‘No one can be certain of victory, Lizzie.’
She held his hands. ‘Come back to me, Nicky. Without you, I have nothing.’
‘You have a son, who will be proud to take my place. But I do mean to come back to you, Lizzie.’
*
The next day Nicholas and Ito took the new railway to Shimonoseki, where the main units of the Japanese fleet lay at anchor, all with steam up as they had been telegraphed to make ready for sea. They were a proud sight, the three biggest ships. Matsushima, Itsukushima, and the newly joined Hashidate, which had not yet even completed her shakedown cruise, were in the centre, flanked by the other four-thousand tonner, Yoshino, and then the three three-thousand tonners, Naniwa, Takachiho and Akitsushima. The other three-thousand tonner, the veteran Fuso, lay a little further off, close by the smaller Chiyoda. Beyond them was the old armoured corvette Hiei, also just over two thousand tons. The fleet was completed by two small six-hundred ton ships, Saikio and Akagi.
‘It is a pity your Idzumi is not here yet,’ Ito remarked to Nicholas. ‘Still, there are ten good ships, eh?’
‘The real pity is that we could not wait for the delivery of our two battleships,’ Nicholas said. ‘The Chinese have thirteen ships of more than a thousand tons.’
‘But only two which are bigger than ours, their battleships. And is not thirteen an unlucky number, in the west, Barrett san?’
He was entirely optimistic, and the fleet put to sea in the best of spirits, cruising to the south-west. Once round the southern tip of Korea, the larger ships remained in a battle squadron, while the lighter, faster vessels, under the general command of Vice-Admiral Tsuboi, were sent ranging to the north, to keep an eye on Chemulpo – the port for Seoul – and Port Arthur.
Tension was high in the fleet as the vital day approached, and on the morning of 21 July a despatch boat reached the flagship with the information that the Korean Government was under the control of the Japanese forces in Seoul, and that General Oshima was preparing his advance.
‘This is the decisive moment,’ Ito said, as he and Nicholas paced the Matsushima’s quarterdeck together. ‘China must either submit to the inevitable, or attempt to reinforce her troops.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘In which case she will again be submitting to the inevitable.’
Nicholas made no reply. He had sensation that he was standing on the edge of something too immense to grasp. He did not feel it just was the idea of going to war; he had anticipated that ever since joining the Royal Navy, even if he had always supposed his war would be against the French. Nor was he particularly apprehensive. He had experienced enough combat in his time. As the only man in the fleet who had actually fought against the Chinese, he had a healthy respect for their courage and tenacity, and believed that if properly handled the Japanese ships would give a good account of themselves. He did not see them doing a great deal of damage to the two big Chinese ships; a great deal would depend upon how they were handled.
What was truly disturbing was the way this war was being brought about. As a young officer he had been required to study naval history, which had involved a good deal of politics. But all the wars he had studied had seemed just to happen. They had been caused by an implacable and irreversible set of circumstances which had been creating the situation long before the first shot had been fired. Whether it was the ebullience of revolutionary France, the clash of slave and non-slave interests in America, or even the various colonial wars which Britain had carried out so successfully throughout the century, all were impelled by economic or missionary zeal. Even the grossly unfair wars with China, in the last of which he had actually taken part, had not been planned as wars; they had grown out of legitimate Chinese resistance to their exploitation by the barbarians. The British and the French had appeared to be as surprised as anyone that the Chinese might actually want to fight! Again, while it seemed certain, from what he had read, that Bismarck’s Prussia had deliberately created a set of political circumstances, with a view to war, first with Austria and then with France, even the Iron Chancellor had attempted to operate with a certain amount of subtlety.
This, however, was the most naked aggression one could imagine. Of course the circumstances had been in place for some time, and Mutsuhito had even dreamed of taking them to the extreme ten years ago. But now he was throwing down the gauntlet to the most populous nation on earth, in the most deliberate and cold-blooded way. It was difficult to determine what he might do next, if he succeeded here.
And he had to succeed, Nicholas realised. All of their lives were at stake. But maybe China would back down.
*
They did not have to wait for very long. On the morning of 25 July several despatch boats reached the flagship. The first brought news that General Oshima had fought the first land action of the war, at Songhwan, defeating the Chinese garrison and clearing the way for an advance on Asan. No one could possibly argue that this was not an act of war, carried out without a declaration.
The second was from Vice-Admiral Tsuboi, to inform Admiral Ito that his ships had engaged a Chinese convoy and inflicted considerable damage on the cruiser Kwang Yih, although the enemy ship had managed to escape. Tsuboi did not give any reason for his action, nor did he indicate who had fired first. But obviously this was now irrelevant, because the third despatch was from Captain Togo on Naniwa, one of Tsuboi’s squadron, to inform Admiral Ito that after the Chinese warships had been dispersed, he had intercepted a merchantman, the Kowshing, which had been clearly seen to be carrying a regiment of Chinese troops. When called upon to turn back, the Kowshing had refused, and Togo had fired into her. ‘“The ship turned over and sank very rapidly,”’ Ito read from the report. ‘“I picked up the officers and such of the crew as I could. The enemy soldiers I left to manage as best they could. I do not think any of them made the shore. My estimate is that they numbered more than a thousand men.”’
Ito raised his head. ‘A thousand men destroyed, just like that, without loss to ourselves. Had that happened on land it would be hailed as a major victory.’
‘A massacre, you mean,’ Nicholas said.
‘It was a battle, Barrett san.’ He read on. ‘“I have to inform you, honourable Admiral, that the Captain Galsworthy, his first officer, and the chief engineer of the Kowshing are British, and that they have informed me that the ship is British owned and registered. Also, she was flying the British flag.’ Again Ito raised his head to give Nicholas a quick glance before continuing. ‘“However, she was on charter to the Chinese Government, and so for our purposes was an enemy; I feel the flying of the Red Ensign was incorrect, in these circumstances. I am reporting this in case you may feel it necessary, honourable Admiral, to make any representations to Tokyo.”’
Ito laid down the paper. ‘Will there be repercussions?’
‘Very possibly. But they will take some time to develop.’
‘By which time we will have
won the war, eh, Barrett?’
‘The war has yet to start, officially, honourable Admiral.’
It did, on 1 August, when China declared war.
*
Having declared war, the Chinese fleet disappeared behind the fortifications of its main base at Wei-hai-wei, to the frustration of the Japanese.
‘They are afraid of us,’ Ito declared contemptuously.
It certainly seemed so, although Nicholas found this difficult to believe. He knew there were several European – mainly British and German – officers serving with Admiral Ting Ju-ch’ang’s fleet, and he could not believe that they would opt for the defensive, without direct orders from Peking.
Meanwhile, the Japanese fleet had achieved everything it had been ordered to do, in that the Sea of Japan was now a Japanese lake across which troops could be transported to Korea with no fear of attack. By patrolling the Gulf of Korea between Quelpart Island at the southern end of the Korean Peninsular and Port Arthur, they were effectively preventing any Chinese reinforcements from reaching the theatre of war.
In this situation, Mutsuhito determined that the time was ready for the offensive which would sweep the Chinese entirely out of Korea. This meant the transportation of General Nodzu’s corps, some fourteen thousand men, to Chemulpo so that an attack could be launched upon the Chinese stronghold of Pyong-Yang. For this purpose the fleet was called upon to escort the myriad transports, as well as to carry some of the troops themselves.
‘If this doesn’t bring the Chinese out, nothing ever will,’ Ito remarked with some satisfaction.
Nicholas was more concerned that to accommodate their passengers the warships had been required to unload their torpedoes. The army was disembarked by the end of the first week in September, and as there continued to be no sign of the enemy, he went ashore to wire Shimonoseki and attempt to expedite the delivery of the torpedoes, being sent by transport, and to pay a call upon Takamori.
‘Honourable Father!’ Takamori was in the company of several other officers, all of whom came to attention at the sight of the admiral.
‘At ease,’ Nicholas said. ‘Well, honourable son, you are about to fight your first battle!’
He wanted to bite his tongue as he remembered that dreadful day at Kagoshima.
But Takamori continued to smile. ‘It will be the greatest day of my life, honourable Father.’ He led Nicholas into his tent, watched by the other officers. ‘Will you not bless my arms?’
Nicholas gazed at the revolver, and the army sword, and then at the two samurai swords which lay beside them. ‘You intend to carry those into battle?’
‘Of course, honourable Father. All officers have been given permission to carry their swords into battle, if they wish. You do not object?’
‘No,’ Nicholas said. ‘I do not object.’
There was nothing else he could say, but he returned to the ship in a sombre mood. It was not merely the reflection that his son intended seppuku, if defeated, but that he was going into battle in the spirit of bushido, with all that that connotated, should the Japanese win. It would not be like anything the Chinese would ever have encountered. He knew from his own experience than they were fond of surrendering, and melting away, and re-forming to fight another day.
*
Two days later a patrol boat came racing into the harbour, and her captain reported immediately to Ito.
‘Ha!’ the Prince commented. ‘Lieutenant Yoshimura reports seeing the entire Chinese fleet at sea, approaching Port Arthur and escorting several transports. Port Arthur! I did not expect them to go there.’
‘I do not think they are going there, honourable Admiral,’ Nicholas said. ‘They will know by now, through the telegraph, that Nodzu’s division is ashore, and that Pyong-Yang must fall if it is not reinforced. To put troops ashore at Port Arthur still leaves them several weeks away from the fortress. They have to be making for the mouth of the Yalu River. If they can disembark there, the troops will only be a day’s march from Pyong-Yang.’
‘Then we must get there first. This is the moment we have been waiting for, Barrett san. Issue orders for steam to be raised immediately.’
‘You realise that we have not yet received our torpedoes?’
‘We cannot wait for them now. We must find the enemy, and engage him.’
‘Aye aye,’ Nicholas said. ‘Your order of battle, honourable Admiral?’
‘We will stick to our pre-arranged plan, Barrett. Admiral Tsuboi will take the advanced squadron of Yoshino, Takachiho, Naniwa, and Akitsushima and act as our van. The main squadron will follow under my command. However, it must be clearly understood that I wish visual contact maintained between the two squadrons at all times.’
‘And the course, honourable Admiral?’
Ito bent over the chart. ‘The course is west until we have rounded the headland of Chongsan-gut, and then north-west for the island of Hai-Yun-Tao, Barrett. If you are right, we must place ourselves between the mouth of the Yalu and the enemy, and prevent him from landing his troops.’
*
The bugles blew, the signals were hoisted to the yardarm, and the fleet was underway that afternoon, Sunday, 16 September 1894. They had three hundred and thirty nautical miles to steam to reach the island, which at sixteen knots would mean something like twenty hours. Apart from doubling the lookouts, Nicholas gave orders that normal watches were to be kept, as he saw no point in his men arriving at the scene of a potential battle exhausted from lack of sleep. Yet few men did sleep that night. Like the army, they were about to be blooded against a foreign enemy, for the first time in several hundred years, except for any survivors, like Togo and himself, of the Kagoshima bombardment.
Nicholas turned in early, and was up at dawn to join Ito on the bridge. Through their binoculars they studied an empty horizon, save for Vice-Admiral Tsuboi’s squadron out in front of them. Within a few minutes following sunrise into a cloudless and windless sky, however, lights started to flash from Yoshino.
‘Island in sight, honourable Admiral,’ said the signal lieutenant.
‘Make to Yoshino, report on whereabouts of enemy ships.’
They waited impatiently.
The signal lamps were winking again, and the lieutenant read them off. ‘Nothing but fishing boats to be seen, honourable Admiral. No evidence of enemy fleet.’
Ito looked at Nicholas.
‘They have been quicker than we supposed, honourable Admiral. Or slower. In any event, our course is plain. We must make for the mouth of the Yalu, and lie in wait.’
Ito chewed the end of his moustache. ‘And suppose they are making east, for Chemulpo, and our transports?’
‘That is impossible, honourable Admiral. Ting will know that is where we are currently based, and that there is no hope of his landing his people without confronting us. Besides, it makes no military sense; for him to put his people ashore at Chemulpo, even supposing such a course is possible, would leave his reinforcements separated from Pyong-Yang by the entire combined Japanese army. He must be making for the Yalu, and the shortest possible route to the fortress.’
Ito considered for a moment, then nodded. ‘Signal all ships, course is north-east for the mouth of the Yalu River.’
Nicholas gave the command to the signal lieutenant, and made a note of the time; it was seven a.m., Monday, 17 September 1894.
*
It was a magnificent late summer’s morning. There was not a cloud to be seen. Even this early the sun was bright in the eastern sky, while there was just sufficient wind, about Force Two on the Beaufort Scale, Nicholas estimated – say ten knots – to ripple the sea. The Japanese fleet had formed line ahead, Yoshino as ever in the van, Matsushima fifth in the line, heading the main battle squadron. They made a quite beautiful sight, the hulls and superstructures painted white, the golden chrysanthemum of Japan painted huge on every bow, and the red and white emblems of the Rising Sun flying from every masthead. To the west the hills of the Darien Peninsular showed dull b
lue on the horizon, but through binoculars the shape of the coast could be made out, and even the roofs of the occasional fishing village. To the east, the Gulf of Korea was nothing but empty blue water.
And in front of them? By eleven o’clock the mountains of north Korea were dimly visible.
‘It might be an idea, Ito san,’ Nicholas suggested, as they sipped tea together, ‘to reduce fleet speed and let Yoshino continue ahead. If the enemy fleet is already off the Yalu, Yoshino has the speed to identify the ships and return to us without being endangered. That way we will know in advance exactly what is facing us.’
Ito grinned. ‘Always cautious, eh, Barrett? I prefer to maintain my order of battle. In the first place, I do not believe the Chinese can have reached the Yalu before us. And in the second, if they are there, the appearance of Yoshino will give them warning that we are on our way, and they will have time to prepare.’
Nicholas made no further comment; Ito would fight the battle in his own way, no matter that that way might be in direct contradiction of accepted naval procedures. He could only hope that Admiral Ting, who equally would never have fought a battle at sea, would be similarly unimaginative.
Half-an-hour later Yoshino signalled that she could see smoke on the horizon bearing east-north-east, and a few minutes afterwards it became obvious that there were several steamers in front of them.
‘You were right, Barrett,’ Ito exclaimed. ‘They were faster than we thought. Alter course towards the enemy.’
Nicholas gave the order, and then resumed studying the distant ships. They were in line abreast, a naval formation he had never seen before, nor had even read of, since the Spanish Armada had made its ill-fated way up the English Channel. But this was surely only because, although all the ships appeared to have steam up, they were at anchor.
‘Bring up the book,’ he told his flag-lieutenant, Hirada Yoshinobu. ‘And repeat your information, in order from the right. Yang Wei!’
‘Protected cruiser, honourable Admiral. One thousand five hundred tons deep loaded. Two hundred and ten feet long. Speed sixteen-and-a-half knots. Complement one hundred and seventy-seven officers and men. Main armament, two ten-inch guns mounted on revolving turrets, secondary, four four-point-seven-inch.’
Bloody Sunrise Page 28