Under the Ensign of the Rising Sun

by Harry Collingwood

  It was true, I certainly did feel a bit disappointed, for I most earnestly desired to see what it was like to be engaged in a regular pitched battle, even though it were only between a couple of hostile squadrons; but I was where I was, to lend a hand where required, not to pick and choose what I would or would not do; in any case I was not going to make occasion for it to be said that an Englishman had unwillingly accepted any duty offered to him; therefore with as much cheerfulness as I could muster, I expressed my perfect readiness to do my best; whereupon Kamimura gave me my written instructions and dismissed me to pack up such few of my belongings as I thought I might need. However, as I had only brought a very limited kit aboard the Idzumi, I decided to take everything, since it would all go into a small portmanteau.

  Meanwhile, the skipper of the Kinshiu had been signalled to have a cabin prepared for me, and for him and Captain Honda, the officer in command of the troops, to repair on board the Idzumi to receive their instructions. They of course came at once, had a short interview with the Admiral, and we all left together, Honda doing the honours of the ship, welcoming me on board the transport, and introducing his fellow-officers, all of whom seemed very jolly fellows, with but one desire, namely, to get to grips with the Russians.

  We left Gensan that afternoon, escorted by the 11th torpedo-boat flotilla under the command of Commander Takebe; the cruisers weighing at the same time and heading east, in the hope of seeing or hearing something of the Russians.

  Unfortunately for us, we had not been under way a couple of hours before we ran into a dense fog which delayed our progress to such an extent that we did not reach Iwon until the morning of the 25th. We found there a long, roughly constructed wooden jetty running far enough out from the shore to give a depth of about six feet alongside its head, at low water, which greatly facilitated our landing; and, ashore, we discovered certain artfully concealed field-works of such a character that, armed with a few heavy guns, they might have pretty effectually covered a landing, unless interfered with by a very powerful force. But our visit was evidently quite unexpected, for we only found a small body of Russian troops—about a hundred or so, with a squadron of Cossacks—in possession; and a few shells from our torpedo-boats sent them to the right-about in double-quick time. We destroyed the earthworks, and the jetty, as a precautionary measure, and, having reconnoitred the country for several miles in every direction without discovering anything very alarming, returned to the ship the same night, without casualties of any kind.

  It was now about six o’clock in the evening. During the greater part of the day the weather had been beautifully fine; but toward three o’clock in the afternoon a heavy bank of dark, slate-coloured cloud had gathered in the eastern quarter of the sky, so quickly rising and spreading that, by five o’clock, the entire firmament had become obscured, the wind dropped to a dead calm, the light dwindled to a murky, unnatural kind of twilight, there were a few flickerings of sheet lightning, low down on the horizon, occasionally accompanied by a low muttering of distant thunder, and the mercury was dropping with rather ominous rapidity.

  I confess that, for my own part, I felt a bit puzzled; I did not quite know what to make of the weather indications. It might be that nothing worse than a violent thunderstorm was brewing; but against this theory there was to be set the sudden and ominous decline of the barometric pressure. We had fulfilled our task, and were preparing to get under way, when Takebe, who was in command of the torpedo flotilla, came aboard to consult with our skipper as to the advisability of going to sea, in the face of such threatening conditions.

  Unfortunately, our escort was composed entirely of torpedo-boats; and although they were staunch enough little craft of their kind, they were nothing like such good sea boats as our destroyers. The latter were, under able management, capable of riding out practically any weather, but with the torpedo-boats it was rather a different story. Some of those that we had with us were small and rather ancient, their engines were not to be too implicitly relied upon, and their boilers were nearly worn-out; indeed, they would never have been detailed for the service, had it been thought that there would be any likelihood of real righting. If by any chance they should happen to be caught at sea in anything like a heavy gale, and anything should go wrong with either their engines or their boilers, the probability was that they would founder, taking all hands with them.

  It was these considerations that were weighing upon Commander Takebe’s mind when he came aboard the Kinshiu to consult with Captain Yagi; and it was evident from his first words that he was all in favour of adopting the prudent course, and staying where we were until it could be seen how matters were going to turn out. But Yagi and he looked at things with different eyes. In the first place, Yagi did not believe that the portents indicated anything more serious than, at worst, a sharp thunderstorm, while at the same time his instructions from Kamimura were that the reconnaissance was to be executed with the utmost dispatch, and that, this done, he was to immediately return to Gensan, so that he might be on the spot in the event of the cruisers needing to re-bunker. And in any case, should it come on to blow, as Commander Takebe seemed to fear, he had no apprehensions concerning the Kinshiu; she was a good sturdy little ship, and would weather out the worst that was at all likely to happen.

  The two discussed the matter together for quite half an hour, occasionally referring to me for my opinion; but both of them were considerably older than I, and had had a much more varied experience than myself of the somewhat peculiar weather conditions of the Sea of Japan; I therefore said as little as possible, and did not attempt to offer a word of advice to either of them. Finally, the matter ended by each of them having his own way—that is to say, Yagi decided to leave for Gensan forthwith, unescorted, taking such trifling risk as there might be—which, they both agreed, amounted practically to none at all—while Takebe determined to study the safety of his command by remaining where he was and awaiting developments. Accordingly, as soon as the Commander had gone, the order was given to get the anchor; and about seven o’clock we steamed out to sea.

  Chapter Nine.

  THE ADVENTURE OF THE KINSHIU MARU.

  By the time that we were fairly out at sea, it was pitch dark, not a star to be seen, and to add still further to the obscurity, a light mist gathered, as it so often does in the Japan Sea, so that by eight o’clock it was only with the utmost difficulty that we were able to discern a small junk which we had in tow, and which had been employed by us to facilitate the landing of the troops. The weather still continued overcast, and the play of sheet lightning gradually grew more vivid and frequent; but there was no wind, and not much sea; and as time went on I began to think, with Yagi, that Takebe’s apprehensions had been groundless, and that we were in for nothing worse than, may be, a thunderstorm, after all.

  I spent a couple of hours in the saloon that night, watching the infantry officers, of whom there were six, playing some wonderful game of cards, of which I could make nothing, and then strolled up on the bridge to see what the weather was like, and to have a yarn with Yagi, before turning in for the night. It was still hazy and very overcast, but there was not a breath of air save the draught created by the motion of the ship, and there was a very beautiful display of sheet lightning, almost continuous, which lighted up the clouds, the mist, and the sea in the most marvellous manner.

  The ship was then heading south-east, with all her lights burning brightly, as in duty bound, and I was sitting astride a camp-stool, with my shoulders resting against the port rail of the bridge, while Yagi, also occupying a camp-stool, sat facing me. He was spinning some yarn—a sort of Japanese fairy tale, it seemed to be—about a geisha, while I was staring contemplatively into the darkness over the starboard bow, watching the wonderful play of the lightning, when suddenly, as a flash lighted up the gloom, I thought I caught a momentary glimpse of three or four dark shapes, about a mile away, broad on the starboard bow. If I had really seen those shapes, they could only be ships, and they
were showing no lights; I therefore ruthlessly cut into the skipper’s yarn by directing his attention to the point where the momentary vision had revealed itself.

  “What is that you say?” he exclaimed. “Ships without lights? Then it must be our Admiral, still hunting for the Vladivostock squadron. Well, we have not seen them, and we had better tell him so, and at the same time inquire whether he has any fresh orders for us. Mr Uchida,”—to the chief officer,—“our squadron is away out there, somewhere on the starboard bow. Have the goodness to honourably make our night signal, as I wish to speak the Admiral.”

  Uchida hurried away and, the signal lanterns being always kept ready for immediate use, in less than a minute they were hoisted. Meanwhile there had been no further lightning flashes to illuminate the darkness, and I rose to my feet, for we were still steaming ahead at full speed, and I had a feeling that we must be drawing pretty close to the strangers. As I did so, our signal was answered by the imperative order: “Stop immediately!” And at the same instant a brilliant and protracted flicker of sheet lightning revealed four large ships, not more than three cables’ lengths distant. The leading ship was a big lump of a four-funnelled cruiser, the funnels coloured white, with black tops, and she carried three masts. The second craft was very similar in general appearance to the first, also having four white, black-topped funnels, and three masts. The third was a two-masted, three-funnelled ship; while the fourth was of distinctly ancient appearance, being of the period when sails were as much used as steam. She had two funnels, and was barque-rigged, with royal yards across, but she was now under steam, with all her canvas furled. We had no such ships in our fleet, while I instantly identified the barque-rigged craft as the Russian cruiser Rurik, of the Vladivostock squadron! That squadron, then, for which Admiral Kamimura was especially hunting, was actually at sea, and we had fallen in with it!

  There was not the least doubt about it. In every wardroom and gunroom of every Japanese warship there was an album containing a beautiful, complete set of photographs of every ship in the Russian navy, each ship being pictured from at least four different points of view; and it was a part of every officer’s duty to study these photographs until he had acquired the ability to identify at sight any Russian warship he might chance to encounter. Thus, in the leading ship of the squadron in sight, a moment’s reflection enabled me to recognise the Rossia, with, astern of her, the Gromoboi, then the Bogatyr, and finally the Rurik.

  “Jove!” I exclaimed. “We’ve done it now, with a vengeance, Yagi. Those four ships comprise the Russian Vladivostock squadron; and we are right under their guns! Stop her, man, for heaven’s sake. It is the only thing you can do. If you don’t, the beggars will sink us out of hand.”

  “They will probably do that in any case,” growled Yagi, as he laid his hand on the engine-room telegraph and rang down an order to stop the engines. “But, as you honourably say, Captain, it is the only thing to be done, although it means the interior of a Russian prison for all hands of us.”

  As the Kinshiu’s engines stopped, the Rossia turned her searchlights upon us, brought her guns to bear, and lowered two boats, the crews of which we could see were armed to the teeth. And at the same moment two destroyers loomed up out of the darkness, one of which stationed herself on our port bow, while the other placed herself upon our starboard quarter, each of them with their tubes and guns manned. Evidently, the Russians did not mean to leave us the smallest loophole for escape.

  The six Japanese infantry officers, noting the stoppage of our engines, came rushing up on deck to learn what was the matter; and upon hearing that the strange ships which had stopped us were Russian warships, hurried away below again, presumably, I thought, to give orders of some sort to the troops under their command.

  The Rossia, with the way she had on her, had by this time closed to within about twenty-five fathoms of us; and at this juncture an officer on her bridge hailed, ordering our skipper to send a boat.

  “Good!” ejaculated Yagi. “We will do so. But we will not go aboard the Rossia. Oh, no. We will slip away in the darkness and make for the land. And you will honourably accompany us, will you not, Captain? A Russian prison has no attractions for you, eh?”

  “You are right, my friend, it has not,” I answered; “for which reason I must decline to accompany you. Because you will never get away, Yagi. How can you, with those searchlights turned full upon us, and those destroyers where they are?”

  “Nevertheless, I shall try,” answered the skipper; and he turned away to bellow an order to the crew to clear away and lower the port lifeboat, the port side being shielded from the glare of the searchlights. Then I heard him order the chief officer to superintend the lowering of the boat, and at the same time to smuggle an extra breaker of water and a bag or two of biscuits into her.

  Then he turned again to me. “If you will not come with us, what will you honourably do, my friend?” he demanded.

  “Oh,” said I, “I shall join the infantry officers below, and see what they are going to do.” And without further parley, I ran down the ladder and made my way below to the saloon, where I found the six officers sitting at the table, looking very pale and grave.

  “Well, gentlemen,” I cried, “here we are, in a nice little Russian trap. What do you propose to do?”

  “We thought at first of performing hari-kari,” said one of them. “But Captain Nagai, with whom you were discussing the subject of hari-kari, only the night before last, appears to have come round to your way of thinking that it is better to live for the Emperor than to die for him. He argues—as you did—that a dead man can do nothing for his Emperor, whereas a living man may be able to do many things; in which statement there is truth. Therefore we propose to surrender to the Russians, in the honourable hope that we may be able to effect our escape, sooner or later, and return to fight for Nippon. What do you honourably propose to do, Captain?”

  “Oh,” said I, “to surrender seems the most sensible thing to do, and doubtless I shall do it—eventually. Meanwhile, however, I think I will toddle up on deck again, and see how Yagi and the ship’s crew are getting on. They are going to try to slip away in the ship’s lifeboat, you know?”

  “Banzai!” cried one of the officers. “I hope they will honourably succeed. But, having decided to surrender, I think the safest place is down here. Doubtless we shall soon see you again.”

  “Y-e-s,—possibly,” I replied. “But I shall not surrender until the last moment; so, if you do not see me again, you may conclude that I have found some means of effecting my escape, and have seized them.”

  Saying which, I shook hands with them all round, and returned to the deck. During my brief visit to the saloon, Yagi and his men had got their boat into the water, and were now pulling boldly for the Rossia; but I noticed that directly they passed out of the area of radiance cast by the searchlight, they shifted their helm sharply and, crossing the cruiser’s bows, were evidently endeavouring to slip past her in the gloom of her own shadow.

  Then, suddenly, an idea occurred to me. The Kinshiu Maru had in tow a small junk, or lighter, which we had used to facilitate the landing of the soldiers at Iwon. Where was she now?

  Crouching low under the cover of the bulwarks, to avoid being seen by those aboard the Rossia, I slipped aft and, cautiously peering over the taffrail, saw that she had drifted right in under the Kinshiu’s counter, where she was momentarily threatening to bilge herself against the steamer’s iron rudder, as the two craft ground against each other on the swell. The forward half of her lay in the deep shadow of the Kinchiu’s stern—a shadow rendered still deeper and more opaque by the vivid brilliance of the searchlight beam that covered the stern-half of her, and it immediately occurred to me that if I could but climb down into her, unobserved, and cut her adrift, I might possibly contrive to avoid entering a Russian prison after all.

  No sooner thought of than done; the moment was propitious, the towing hawser lay under my hand, and in another moment I was down
upon her tiny forecastle, hacking away at the grass rope with my pocket-knife. The blade was keen, as a sailor’s knife should always be, and with a few vigorous slashes the hawser was severed and I was adrift. Then, taking advantage of the heave of the two craft, I managed to move the junk until she lay entirely in the shadow cast by the Kinshiu’s hull.

  At this juncture I heard the gruff voices of Russians overhead, on the transport’s deck, and, thinking discretion the better part of valour under the circumstances, dropped off the junk’s short fore deck into her shallow hold and there concealed myself, lest any inquisitive Russian should peer over the bulwarks, catch sight of me, and order me up on deck again. I don’t know whether it occurred to any of the enemy to look over the side, but I do not think so; at all events, if they did, nobody took the trouble to come down and search the junk; and in a few minutes the voices ceased; I took it that the visitors had gone below to search the ship. If they had, what would happen to them, with over a hundred armed Japanese soldiers down there?

  I had not long to wait for an answer to this question. About two minutes of silence succeeded to the sudden cessation of the Russians’ voices on deck, and then the muffled crack of a pistol-shot rang out from the Kinshiu’s interior, instantly followed by a shout of “Banzai Nippon!” and the crack of several rifles; there arose a sudden outburst of yells and execrations in Russian, a stampede of many feet along the deck, the sounds of a scuffling hand-to-hand fight, a volley of orders from the Russian officer in command of the boarding party, a hoarse hail from one of the warships, and then the rattle and splash of oars hastily thrown out. Evidently, the Japanese soldiers had given the intruders a warm reception.