Under the Ensign of the Rising Sun

by Harry Collingwood

  And therewith, affording me no opportunity to reply, the fine little fellow, well named “the Nelson of Japan,” hastily shook me by the hand and effected his escape, while I sank into a chair, almost overwhelmed at the extent of my good fortune.

  Captain of the Yakumo! I could scarcely credit it. As the Admiral had said, the Yakumo was a very fine ship; she was indeed one of the finest armoured cruisers which Japan at that time possessed. Her waterline was protected by a belt of Krupp steel seven inches thick amidships, tapering off to five inches thickness at bow and stern; she mounted four 8-inch quick-fire guns in her two turrets, and fourteen 6-inch guns on her broadsides; she could steam twenty-one knots, when clean; and she carried a crew of five hundred officers and men! A rather different craft from the little Kasanumi, with her single 12-pounder and five 6-pounders, eh? I felt that, in command of such a ship as that, I could dare and do almost anything. My delight must have proved an important factor in aiding my recovery, for from the moment when I received my appointment, my strength came back to me so rapidly that, instead of the fortnight which I had allowed myself in my conversation with the Admiral, I took only nine days to qualify for my discharge from the hospital, and to report for duty.

  It was a proud moment for me when I stood on the spacious quarter-deck of my new command and, in the presence of all hands, mustered for the occasion, read my commission appointing me to the command of the ship. The vacancy had occurred in consequence of the death of her previous captain, and when I boarded the craft, I did so fully prepared for a certain coldness of reception on the part of the officers, for naturally, in the ordinary course of events, the command ought to have gone to the senior officer, one Commander Arisaka. But not so; on the contrary, as I finished reading my commission, folded it up, and put it in my pocket, the Commander approached, shook hands in the most friendly way, expressed the extreme gratification felt by himself and the rest of the officers of the ship at finding themselves under the leadership of one who—as they were kind enough to put it—“had so brilliantly distinguished himself”; and then proceeded to present to me the rest of the officers in rotation, in strict accordance with their rank, all of whom found something pleasant and complimentary to say. By way of response, I made a little speech to all hands, crew as well as officers, in which I expressed my gratification at finding myself in command of so fine a ship, manned by so fine a crew, and voiced the hope that, not only should we be able to all work comfortably and harmoniously together, but also that the Admiral would speedily afford us an opportunity to add fresh laurels to the Yakumo’s fame; a speech which elicited a quite enthusiastic storm of “Banzais.”

  Agreeable relations with my officers and crew being thus satisfactorily established, I took up my quarters onboard, and forthwith proceeded to “learn” the ship—that is to say, I made myself intimately acquainted with the localities and purposes of the numerous engines and pieces of machinery with which she was fitted, the number and positions of her magazines, and their contents, the number and situations of her torpedo tubes, the uses of the many fitments to be found in her conning tower, and in fact everything connected with her working, so that in the hour of action I might have every detail firmly fixed in my memory, ready for use at a moment’s notice. And wherever I found anything capable of improvement, I unhesitatingly had that improvement carried out, although I feel bound to say that I found very little anywhere needing modification. In this way, and by continually exercising the crew at such evolutions as could be carried out with the ship at anchor, I very soon became perfectly familiar with my new command and, as my strength steadily returned, began to long for the opportunity to test myself as well as my ship and crew. For during the whole of this time the Yakumo, with several other cruisers, and our four battleships, had been lying at anchor at our rendezvous at the Elliot Islands, not idle by any means, but, like the Yakumo, “tuning up” for a certain eventuality, the approach of which we all seemed to sense in some mysterious way.

  And yet, after all, I do not know that there was very much mystery about it, for our Secret Service agents—of whom there were several in Port Arthur—informed us that, from the moment when, on that memorable Sunday, 7th August, one of the first twenty shells fired at the stronghold by the investing Japanese, fell aboard the battleship Retvisan, lying at anchor in the harbour, and seriously damaged her, there had been a general outcry that the Russian fleet ought to go to sea and fight, rather than remain in harbour and be ignominiously destroyed without striking a blow in self-defence.

  It was known that Admiral Vitgeft, and Prince Ukhtomsky, his second in command, were utterly opposed to such a course, their freely expressed opinion being that the Russian ships, already more or less seriously damaged by the attacks to which they had been subjected from time to time during the progress of the war, were totally unfit to meet and engage the Japanese fleet, which, they had every reason to believe, was in first-class fighting trim. There were certain officers, however, whose mortification at their enforced inactivity blinded them to the soundness of this judgment. “If the ships must be destroyed, let them be destroyed at sea in the act of inflicting as much injury as possible upon the enemy,” was their contention; and it was certainly a reasonable one. It was broadly hinted that the leader of this faction found means to convey his contention to the ear of Admiral Alexieff; for, strange to say, the following day brought a wireless message from the Commander-in-Chief to Vitgeft, ordering the latter to take his whole fleet to sea and proceed to Vladivostock, fighting his way thither, if necessary. Every effort was of course made by Vitgeft to keep this order a profound secret; but it was necessary to communicate it to the captains of the several ships and other officers whose duties required that they should possess such knowledge, and the delight of some of them at learning that their long-cherished desire was about to be granted was not conducive to secrecy. Moreover, the sudden, feverish hurry and bustle of preparation was a sufficient advertisement of what was impending; and that very night the news was signalled to the blockading squadron in the offing, from which it was as promptly transmitted by wireless to Togo, among the Elliots. The news was confirmed on the following morning by our patrol vessels off the port, from which came the information that a tremendous state of activity was discernible among the Russian ships, and that all indications pointed toward an almost immediate sortie.

  The news arrived by wireless, about an hour after sunrise; and immediately upon receiving it the signal was made for all captains to at once proceed on board the flagship. Some such signal had confidently been expected, after the news of the preceding day; we were in fact all waiting for it, and its display was equivalent to the starting signal for a race, for no sooner did the flags break abroad than they were read, and the next instant the shrill piping of many boatswain’s whistles was heard in the calm morning air, the crews of the captain’s gigs were seen rushing along the booms and dropping recklessly down into the boats, and in less than a minute the mirror-like waters of the harbour were being churned into foam as the flotilla of gigs darted away from the ships’ gangway ladders, each striving to be the first to arrive alongside the Mikasa. I was not the first to reach the goal, for the battleships were all lying together, with the cruisers some distance outside them, but my boat was the fourth alongside, beating the Asama’s gig by half a length, to the intense disgust of Captain Yamada, who occupied her stern-sheets.

  “Never mind, Yamada, old chap,” I exclaimed, as we shook hands and ascended the Mikasa’s side ladder together; “perhaps you will get the pull of me later on. But I’ll bet you a case of champagne that the Yakumo scores a hit before the Asama, to-day.”

  The bet was eagerly accepted, and, chatting gaily, we passed along the flagship’s deck and entered the Admiral’s state cabin, where we found Togo and the captains of the four battleships already assembled and conversing eagerly. The Admiral shook hands with both of us, complimented me upon my rapid recovery, and then turned to welcome the other captains who were fa
st arriving, while we joined the little but quickly swelling group of officers who had already arrived; for of course Togo would say nothing until everybody was present.

  We were not kept waiting very long, however, perhaps a matter of ten minutes after my arrival, and then Captain Ijichi, of the Mikasa, who as each captain arrived, had been ticking his name off a list, announced that all were present, and rapped sharply on the table with his sword-hilt for silence. The next moment, to use a common expression, one might have heard a pin drop. Then Admiral Togo stepped forward, unrolled a chart and spread it open upon the table, and stood for a moment looking round the crowded cabin with a curiously intent and eager gaze.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, “the wireless message which has this morning arrived from the blockading squadron off Port Arthur, entirely confirms the news of yesterday, to the effect that the Russian fleet is about to put to sea, probably with the intention of making for Vladivostock. I imagine Vladivostock to be its destination for the simple reason that there is no other port open to it; moreover, as we are fully aware, there is a dry dock at Vladivostock large enough to receive a battleship; and I conjecture the intention of the enemy to be to take his damaged ships there for the purpose of repairing them, so that they may be in condition to reinforce and assist the Baltic fleet upon its arrival in these waters.

  “Gentlemen, if that be the enemy’s intention, it must never be carried out; we must prevent it at all costs—short of the loss of our own battleships, which we must preserve in order that we may be able to meet the Baltic fleet upon something like equal terms, when it arrives. Now, the question of how best to meet the Port Arthur fleet without unduly risking our own battleships is one that has greatly exercised my mind ever since the moment when it first became apparent that the Russians were meditating a sortie, and I have formed a plan which I will now lay before you, and upon which I shall be very grateful to receive your frankly expressed criticism and opinion.

  “Taking it for granted that the purpose of the Russian Admiral is to make for Vladivostock, I propose to proceed to Encounter Rock, which, as you are all aware, lies directly in the track of ships bound from Port Arthur southward past the Shan-tung promontory,”—the Admiral pointed out upon the chart the positions of the three places mentioned as he spoke—“and there await the arrival of the Russians, who will by that time be so far from Port Arthur that I trust the measures which I propose to take to prevent them from returning may be effective.

  “I need not remind you that my instructions are, and have been throughout the war, to risk our battleships as little as possible, since upon them depends the safety of Japan—a fact which I believe we all fully realise; I therefore intend to fight the forthcoming battle at long-range, trusting to our superior gunnery to enable us to inflict the maximum amount of injury upon the enemy with the minimum amount of injury to ourselves.

  “I purpose to proceed in the following manner. The Yakumo will lead the fleet to sea, followed by the Kasagi, Takasago, Chitose, Takachiho, Naniwa, and Chiyoda, in the order named. These will be followed, at a distance of three miles, by our six armoured cruisers, in the wake of which will follow the four battleships, with the remaining cruisers and the destroyers bringing up the rear. Further orders I cannot give at present, since my plans are necessarily subject to modification according to the reports which will no doubt come to me from time to time from the blockading squadron, a portion of which will follow the Russian fleet, reporting upon its formation, the course it steers, its speed, and so on. The only thing further which I have now to say is, that the duty of the destroyer flotilla will be to keep the Russian destroyers so fully occupied that the latter will have no opportunity to approach our big ships, while every opportunity must be seized to attack the Russians, especially their battleships. That is all I have to say, gentlemen, except that the fleet which we shall have the honour to meet to-day must be destroyed, and I look to each of you, individually, to give me your best assistance in the accomplishment of this purpose. Now, has any officer any suggestion to offer? I shall be most grateful for any helpful hint.”

  Nobody spoke, but all eyes wandered round the cabin, searching for a possible speaker. The Admiral’s eye met mine, and I thought there seemed to be a question in it. As nobody else seemed inclined to speak, I decided to answer that questioning glance.

  “There is just one remark which I should like to make, sir, if I may be permitted,” I said. “I had not the good fortune to be present when the Japanese last met the Port Arthur fleet, less than two months ago; but from all that I have heard with regard to that meeting, I gather that there would have been no Port Arthur fleet to-day, had not you, sir, been too eager to meet them, revealing your presence to them at such an early moment that retirement to Port Arthur was still possible for them. If that be the case, the obvious lesson to be learnt seems to be that we should on no account show ourselves until the Russians have run too far off-shore to get back again before we can intercept them; and I would also suggest the desirability of taking steps to effectually cut off their retreat.”

  Togo nodded and smiled.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, “you have all heard Captain Swinburne’s remarks. Have any of you anything to add to them, or any comment to make upon them?”

  For a moment there was silence. Then Captain Matsumoto, commanding the Fuji, stepped forward.

  “I should like to say, sir,” he said, “that I entirely concur in what Captain Swinburne has said. Unlike that gentleman, I had the honour to be present on the occasion to which he refers, and I believe all present—including yourself, sir—will be inclined to agree that the honourable captain has put his finger upon the two causes which then combined to render the escape of the Russian fleet possible.”

  A low murmur of assent followed; and when it died away, Togo spoke.

  “I thank you all, gentlemen,” he said, “for the expression of opinion to which I have just listened. I agree that a mistake was made upon that occasion, and it was I who made it. But that mistake will not be repeated, you may rest assured. I recognised my mistake when it was too late to amend it, and I have now made my plans accordingly. Has any one else any suggestion to offer?”

  There was no response.

  “Very well, then, gentlemen,” resumed Togo. “Our conference is at an end. Return to your ships, and get your anchors at once. We will proceed to sea forthwith; and may Hachiman Sama,” (the Japanese god of War) “be with us to-day and crown our arms with victory!”

  A moment’s silence followed, and then the cabin rang with the exultant shout of “Banzai! Banzai Nippon!” instantly taken up by the crew out on deck, who heard it, and as instantly repeated by the crews of the other ships, as the sound of the cheering reached them. Then, one after another, we filed past the Admiral, who shook hands with each of us as we passed out of the cabin; and ten minutes later the harbour was resounding with the clank of chain cables being hove in through a fleet’s hawse-pipes and stowed away below.

  Chapter Eighteen.

  THE BATTLE OF THE YELLOW SEA.

  It was still quite early—half-past six o’clock in the morning, to be exact—when a gun from the Mikasa and a string of flags, drooping from the end of her signal yard in the breathless calm of a hot August morning, gave the signal for the Japanese fleet to go forth to battle.

  In accordance with the Admiral’s instructions, the Yakumo was to lead the way to sea, and it was a proud moment for me when, standing upon the cruiser’s navigating bridge, I personally rang down the order to the engine-room, “Ahead, half-speed, both engines!” And I considered—and still consider—that I had every reason to be proud; for here was I, a lad not yet quite nineteen years of age, captain of one of the finest and most formidable cruisers in the Japanese navy. And I had attained to that position—I may say it now, I think, without laying myself open to the charge of being unduly vain—solely by my own exertions and without a particle of favour shown me, excepting that, when my own country contemptuously dispe
nsed with my services, the aliens whom I was now serving received me with the utmost courtesy and kindness. Ah, well! thank God, that bitter period in my life is past now, and I can bear to look back upon it with equanimity, but the memory of it often swept down upon me like a black cloud in the days of which I am now writing.

  But there was no thought of my unmerited disgrace and ruined career in my own country to interfere with my happiness or humble my pride upon that glorious morning; I enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that my innocence had been made clear, that the stain of guilt had been removed from my name, and I was as happy just then as I suppose it is ever possible for mortal to be.

  And indeed, quite apart from matters of a purely personal nature, it would have been very difficult for any normal-minded individual to have been otherwise than buoyant upon that particular morning, for everything conspired to make one so. The weather was glorious; the sky, a clear, rich sapphire blue, was, for a wonder, without a cloud, the air was so still that until we got under way and made a wind for ourselves the signal flags drooped in motionless folds, and their interpretation was largely a matter of guesswork. Then there was all the pomp and circumstance of modern war, the ships already cleared for action, and each of them decorated with at least two enormous battle-flags—wrought by the dainty fingers of Japan’s fairest daughters—flaunting defiantly from her mast-heads. It must have been a magnificent sight to behold that proud fleet steaming out to sea, ship after ship falling into line with machine-like precision and keeping distance perfectly, first the squadron of cruisers, led by the Yakumo; then the other five armoured cruisers, with the Asama in the van; then the four battleships—accompanied by the Nisshin and Kasuga, which were powerful enough to take their place in the line of battle—and, finally, the swarm of heterogeneous craft composed of the older and less important cruisers and other vessels, and those wasps of the sea, the destroyers.