At the Fall of Port Arthur/Chapter 14
CHAPTER XIV
PROGRESS OF THE WAR
An hour after the capture of the Chinese junk one of the officers of the ill-fated craft was thrust into the prison pen with our friends.
He was a small sallow-eyed Celestial rejoicing in the name of Won Lung, and it was soon learned that he could speak a little English, he having once paid a visit to San Francisco.
"All go up spout!" said he, referring to his own ship. "T'ink we safe when Russian gunboat come, den all up spout!"
"Did they sink your ship?" asked Captain Ponsberry.
"No sink—shoot holes, back, front, side—all up spout. No fightee no more den—all up spout!" The latter was his pet phrase and he used it over and over again.
"You were in the Japanese trade?"
"Yes—carry rice. Now Russians got rice, got junk—all Won Lung's money gone up spout!" And the Celestial made an odd little grimace.
"Well, they took my ship, too."
"Big schooner your shipee?"
"Yes."
"Won Lung weep for you—all ship gone up spout, samee like Won Lung's ship gone up spout!"
"Well, we haven't gone up the spout yet," put in Larry, with a laugh. "Let us thank fortune that we are alive and well."
"Dat so—Won Lung lose fliends on junk—six, seven, ten—don't know how many yet," and the Chinese officer shook his head sadly. "Bad war, bad!"
"Can you tell us how the war is going?" asked Tom Grandon. "These Russians say everything is a Russian victory."
"Russians sayee dat?"
"Yes—they pretend to say they have the Japs about beaten."
At this Won Lung screwed up his eyes into mere slits.
"Big lie dat. Japanese win everyt'ing allee timee. Russian warships gone up spout—Russian army run like—like—up spout!"
After that Won Lung told them all he knew. It was hard to understand him, yet they gathered that there had been another sea fight in the vicinity of Port Arthur, in which the Russian navy had come off second best, and that the Japanese army that had landed in Korea had driven the enemy to the northwestward, over the Yalu River, and was now forcing them back upon Liao-Yang.
"If this news about the army is true, Ben and Gilbert must be having a hot time of it," was Larry's comment. "I must say, I am mighty glad they are on the winning side."
"Didn't I tell ye them Russians are a lot o' blowers?" came from Luke. "The truth ain't in 'em half the time."
"Perhaps they do not get the correct news from the front," came from Captain Ponsberry. "The censors may keep the bad news back, for fear of disheartening the rest of the men in the army and navy."
"They tell me the Russians are very strict about sending out news," rejoined Larry.
"It is true, Larry; no country on the globe is stricter. No telegram can be sent without it is inspected, and the newspapers cannot print a single scrap of news, or a single editorial, until after the press censor has passed upon it."
"If that's the case, I don't wonder that some of the people want to be free."
"Russia is more free to-day than she ever was before, and freedom is bound to come sooner or later—that is, I mean, not such freedom as we have in the United States, but such freedom as they have in England and Germany—where, at least, a man can call his soul his own."
"It's a wonder the Russians will fight for their country, if they are so ground down."
"They know nothing better, and besides, they are really patriotic. If the Czar would only treat them a little better, and give them a little more liberty, they would be the most faithful of subjects. But when a man can't do at all as he wants to do, and can't open his mouth about it either, he is apt to grow sullen and ugly."
As day after day went by life on the Russian warship became almost unendurable for Larry and the others. They suffered greatly for the want of fresh air, and at last made a vigorous protest to the captain of the ship, when he happened to be passing the pen. As a result orders were given that they should be allowed three hours on deck each day, one in the morning and two after dinner.
"This is a little like," said Larry, when coming on deck for the first time. "Oh, how good it feels to breathe fresh air once more!" And he filled his lungs to their fullest capacity.
For their daily exercise Larry and Luke were chained together, and the pair inspected with great curiosity as much of the warship as was allowed.
"It's not so very different from some of our own auxiliary cruisers," said Larry. "But, after all, I like ours better."
"That's right, lad; stick up fer your own country every trip."
"Well, what do you say, Luke?"
"I say I'd rather be on one of Uncle Sam's ships than on any other in the world."
While allowed to roam around on deck, Larry often looked eagerly for the Columbia, but the schooner and the Chinese junk were too far off to be distinguished with the naked eye.
"We'd give a good deal to be back on her deck, wouldn't we, Luke?" said he.
"Don't mention it, lad; it makes me sick," grumbled the Yankee tar.
"I wish I knew just what was being done on land, don't you? Perhaps this war will end soon, and then we'll be set free."
"It won't end yet awhile, Larry, mark my words on that," answered Luke.
The old Yankee sailor was right—the war was far from ended, and here it may be well to note briefly what was taking place on the sea between Russia and Japan, while the army of the Mikado was pushing through Manchuria in the direction of Liao-Yang.
The loss of the great battleship Petropavlovsk has already been recorded in "Under the Mikado's Flag." This vessel was sunk by a mine in Port Arthur harbor, April 13, 1904, and carried down with her Admiral Makaroff and about five hundred officers and men. At the same time the battleship Pobieda was also injured by a mine.
The loss of the admiral's flag-ship was a great blow to Russia, and while she was trying to recover, Port Arthur was vigorously shelled by the Japanese fleet, and many buildings were more or less damaged. Some warehouses were set on fire, but the local fire department, aided by the Russian garrison, succeeded in putting out the conflagration.
While the Japanese fleet was hammering at the city and the ships from beyond the harbor, the Japanese army encircled Port Arthur on land, taking possession of every available hill beyond the Russian line of defenses. As a consequence, by the middle of May the city was in a complete state of siege, nearly all communication with the outside world being cut off.
But now came a turn in affairs which, for a short while, made matters look favorable for Russia. While the fleet of Admiral Togo was patrolling the whole of the southeastern coast of Manchuria and protecting the Japanese transports which were pouring troops into the country, occurred a catastrophe as appalling as it was unexpected.
On the same day, May 15, the magnificent battleship Hatsuse, of the Japanese navy, was blown up by mines and sunk, and the protected cruiser, Yoshino, also of Admiral Togo's fleet, collided in the fog with a sister ship, and was a total loss. It is estimated that by these two disasters seven hundred men were lost. Among the officers who met their fate were men of marked ability which Japan at this crisis could ill afford to lose.
The loss of the Hatsuse is worth relating in detail. She had been along the coast during a heavy fog, but this had cleared off and the sun was shining brightly. Not an enemy was in sight, and all was quiet on the great battleship when, without warning, a terrific explosion was felt near the stern and a portion of the steering gear was damaged.
"We have struck a mine!" cried some one on board, and without delay signals were hoisted for the other vessels in sight to stand by. The battleship was drifting and the locality was full of mines. It was a moment of terrible suspense. Then came another explosion, greater than the first, which ripped large holes through her heavy plates. At once the battleship began to fill, and presently she sank like a stone to the bottom of the sea. The other warships put out their small boats with all speed, and succeeded in rescuing about three hundred officers and men out of a total of nearly eight hundred. Among those lost were Rear-Admiral Nashiba and Captain Nakao, the commander of the warship.
The Yoshino was lost while steaming slowly southward, after a night's vigil near the entrance to Port Arthur harbor. Other vessels of the blockading fleet were close by, so each ship had to advance with extreme caution. But the fog, instead of lifting, became thicker, and at a little before two o'clock in the afternoon the cruiser was rammed by the Kasuga, another vessel of the fleet. A large hole was torn in the hull of the Yoshino.
"Out with the collision mats!" cried the commander of the cruiser, and the mats were brought out without delay and placed over the side. But the hole was too great to be stopped in that manner. Then the captain called the entire crew on deck, and ordered the small boats to be lowered, five on the starboard side and one on the port. Before the boats could be gotten away, the Yoshino listed heavily to starboard and went down, smashing the five small boats under her. The other boat managed to get away, with only a handful of jackies and a couple of officers. The captain remained on the bridge and went down with his ship. As soon as possible the Kasuga put out her boats and succeeded in rescuing about ninety men, out of a total of over two hundred and fifty.
It was a great blow to Japan and the Russians were correspondingly elated. Feeling that Admiral Togo's grip on the sea was now weakened, the Russian squadron at Vladivostok sailed forth and did much damage to the shipping on the northern coast of Japan, sinking several merchantmen and taking a number of others as prizes. The Russian squadron also met the Japanese transport Kinshiu Maru, having on board the 37th regiment of Japanese infantry.
"Surrender, or we will sink you!" signaled the Russian commander. The Japanese refused, and were given exactly an hour in which to think it over. As they still refused, a torpedo was discharged against the doomed ship. As she began to sink the Japanese soldiers opened fire with their rifles, and then the Russians answered with their machine guns, mowing down the Mikado's men by the score. But the Japanese were brave to the last, and sank beneath the waves with the cry of Banzai! (hurrah!) on their lips.
It was an auxiliary cruiser of the Vladivostok squadron which had taken the Columbia and the Chinese junk as prizes of war. The captain of the cruiser was now looking for the rest of the squadron, but so far none of the warships had been sighted.
"They must have returned to Vladivostok," he reasoned, and then turned in that direction with the Pocastra, never dreaming of what the near future held in store for himself, his ship, and his crew.