Kitabı oku: «In the Yellow Sea», sayfa 6

"All right, admiral," he said suddenly. "By all manner o' means. Won't I make them proud at home when I tell them that the young runaway is the admiral of the Naniwa – what's that mean? In Ireland 'Nanny' is an old nurse – and she here is your wet-nurse, bedad! Oh, it's grand entirely, your honour!"

This affectation of manner puzzled me. The captain was "putting on" this, I perceived.

"If you object, sir," I began.

"Is it me object! Not at all! Go and leave your ship – she's left ye – and your friends. What for?" he asked suddenly and almost fiercely. "What d'ye want to do?"

"To serve in the Japanese navy," I said, "as a volunteer, and see some service for a while. The captain here has told his nephew, who asked me to tell you too."

"The dog began to bite the pig, the pig began to go, and the old woman (that's me) begins to get over the stile. I see! Well, do as ye like, Julius, my boy, I'll not stop ye."

"Really? Oh, you are kind, captain! Still, if you order me" —

"Ah! go on! Ye won't stay long I expect. But if ye do it will do ye good. I don't understand why the captain of the ship has made ye the offer, but as he has, and ye are already dressed up in Japanese clothes, maybe he wants to see whether ye're worth your salt! All right, Admiral Julius, 'Go where Glory waits ye,' as Tommy Moore says, and 'when Fame elates thee, then remember me,' that's all. Here's the lieutenant."

The officer came in, we saluted, and the captain accepted the polite invitation to breakfast by and by, and the lieutenant retired.

"Now, admiral, quit, if ye please, as I'm going to 'draw on my stockings,' and – dress myself. I suppose ye'll breakfast in the cabin, while I am pigging in the ward-room. Be off, I tell ye! Don't stand there staring like a stuck pig. Hurry, now!"

I obeyed, feeling that the captain was annoyed, but my feelings of adventure rose in me, and as he had consented, however unwillingly, I decided to assume his acquiescence in the matter, but he apparently feared the future.

There was another interview with my captain afterwards, and a chat with the mate and others, who subsequently were transferred to the transport Yayayama with the Danish gentleman, – also a captive from the despatch boat, – the Chinese crews of it, and the surviving soldiers of the Fêng Shui. I need not dwell upon the parting. I felt sorry to leave my messmates, but against this feeling came the knowledge that I was adrift already, and must go to Nagasaki first, then find conveyance to China and perhaps to Europe. I had no money, and no chance of finding any then. My parents, particularly my dear mother, would be much more pleased to receive a telegram announcing my entry into the Japanese service, than a wire for money and announcing shipwreck! The captain (Goldheugh) had promised to write about me, and I found out afterwards that not only had he done so, but had spoken well of me to Captain Toyo of the Naniwa.

The Tsaokiang, which had appeared before the sinking of the steamer, was a prize to the Maya; and all her officers and crew having been transferred as indicated above, the Yayayama steamed away for Japan. I remained in the cruiser while she sent boats to search for the fugitive Chinese vessel, which had fled away ashore. She was found and destroyed by the Japanese boats' crews as she lay beached.

Then the cruisers joined the fleet, and war was declared on the 1st August 1894, "after the ball" at Phungdo.

CHAPTER IX
THE BATTLE IN THE YELLOW SEA – THE EVIL
GENIUS OF "FÊNG SHUI"

It would not be interesting to the reader to peruse the details of our cruise off the Chinese and Corean coasts after the declaration of war till the middle of September, but a passing reference to the actions of the squadron may be made.

The fleet was under the command of Admiral Ito,[³] who later made an attack on Port Arthur and Wei-hai-Wei, which are opposite each other in the Gulf of Pechili, the latter port being in Shangtung, and the former in Manchuria, North China. The admiral did not communicate his ideas to many people, but it leaked out in the fleet that he was keeping the Chinese in check while his transports were carrying the Japanese troops to Corea. Meantime the Chinese fleet remained in harbour at Wei-hai-Wei, and the Coreans assisted the Japanese troops. So the Chinese soldiers were marching southwards, and the Japanese northwards, the respective fleets being in the Yellow Sea.

The Yalu River separates China from Corea, and by that entrance the Chinese came by sea, the land forces came from Manchuria. The Japanese from Chemulpo, Gensan, and Fusan, the fleet having left the Taidong River, which is across the peninsula, opposite to Gensan, cruised along the Corean shore searching for transports; and the Naniwa, in which I was, was one of the First Flying Squadron, composed of four ships, Yoshino, Naniwa, Akitsushima, and Takachiho.

This was the arrangement in September when, on the 16th of the month, we left Taidong River, our division being commanded by Rear-Admiral Kozo in the Yoshino. The main squadron, commanded by Vice-Admiral Ito Sukahiro, was inclusive of the flagship Matsushima and five other ships, with a couple of small vessels of no great importance.

While in Corea I managed to get a kit and outfit, and though feeling strange in my new surroundings, I was treated well, and in a most friendly manner as an Englishman. Many of my messmates in the fleet had been to England, and some had studied there, so they knew that a naval cadet was not an upstart, and if he were he would be quickly brought to his bearings. At anyrate I got on very well with the Japanese officers and "subs," though the crew were not so friendly.

"When shall we find the Chinese fleet?" I asked one day, when after cruising about not even a trail of smoke had been visible. But the reply was a half shrug and a smile; no one knew when, but everybody was evidently impatient. All were prepared for action, – well disciplined and trained. The admiral had confidence in officers and men, and they obeyed orders calmly and smilingly; and if they looked unenergetic, and at times listless, they quickly "perked up" when "business" was "toward."

It seemed to me curious that the ships had not fallen in with the Chinese as everyone anticipated. Every "Jack" – Jap was full of fight, strong language (not swearing), and disdain of the Chinese. But we ascertained that the astute John had landed his soldiers in transports, under the protection of his warships, while the Japanese fleet had been temporarily refreshing themselves in the Taidong River. The Chinese on the 16th September landed their troops at the Yalu, and returned home thence – at least they started back homewards across the Yellow Sea.

The Japanese vessels made for Hai-yang, a large island off the Manchurian Peninsula, and considerable irritation was displayed when the lookouts declared that no Chinese ships were in sight. The chief officers were on the bridge or in the tower, and as the morning wore on and nothing appeared, the disappointment increased.

Suddenly a hail startled some of us, and the Japanese smile widened.

"What's the news?" I asked my neighbour.

He could not reply in English, but pointed to the horizon over the port-bow. We were proceeding under easy steam, the day was fine and pleasant, and I managed to make out a darkening or smudge upon the horizon in the north-east.

"Smoke!" I exclaimed aloud. "The Chinese ships, I expect."

My Japanese friend at that moment came up to announce to me the great news. The Chinese fleet was approaching!

Then the discipline of the Japanese sailor was observed. At once, at the word "beat to quarters," every man and officer was in his place, and the proper arrangements were made for disposing of the wounded and supplying ammunition. In fact, so far as I could ascertain at the time, and subsequently by inquiry and reading, the condition of the Japanese navy is equal to that of any European nation, if it is deficient in the size of the men and in numbers. The cool and yet defiant manner of the crew struck me greatly, and all the vessels went into action like bulldogs.

The day was beautifully fine, with a calm, almost quiet, blue sea, over which twenty vessels at least were approaching each other. In the arrangements I was in a measure overlooked, and kept out of sight of the officers as much as possible, watching ahead. All the ships had cleared for action and beat to quarters. Eight bells, – noon.

There's a signal! I wondered what it meant, but I soon saw the object of it. The flagship Matsushima was quickly making the arrangements, and our ship, with three others, was commanded to proceed to attack the Chinese. These "flyers" steamed ahead, the Yoshino in advance, against the great Chinese ironclads, ten or twelve immense vessels, of different sizes and speed, like the Japanese, but two of the Chinese ships, named Lai-yuen and Ching-yuen, came first, the rest extending behind them like wildfowl.

As the four Japanese vessels went on they did not fire. Then a most fearful roar arose in front, a mile off, and the sea became alive with spray and jets of water.

"Shell-fire," whispered my friend as he passed, carrying an order below astern. Shells! I had heard of shell-firing, but never had expected to see it. The sea was torn up all around the Japanese as they steamed swiftly on, but certainly our vessel was not hit, and I did not see any man touched.

But soon after all the vessels began, and such a fearful din and such a pall of smoke it is impossible to describe properly. The concussion of the big guns deafened me, the spitting of the smaller ones irritated me; and yet we passed the enemy with little damage to the Naniwa, and without a single casualty amid the crew. If anyone had told me at the time that the ship would escape serious injury I would have derided him.

Now, how shall I describe this naval battle, as I am not one of those wonderful correspondents who see everything at once, and that amid the smoke and thunder and crashing of shot and guns and shells, 'mid the shouts and cries of victory and the shrieks of the dying, or the more ghastly wounded? I could see the other ships coming up behind us in our wake, the Naniwa was the last ship of the leading squadron, and the Chinese phalanx advanced, firing steadily and punishing us. I heard fearful thuds and crashes beside me, and saw, amid the white and murky smoke of the guns, flames shooting up and flashes from the broadsides and tops of our opponents.

I sheltered myself as much as possible, and waited while the heavy smoke drifted away slowly. We could see signals above it, astern, from the flagship, and I was thankful when our speed carried us on beyond the Chinese vessels, though the din and the smoke became more fearful each moment. I had no real idea, or rather had no idea of the reality, of war. I had read of sailors seeing cannon-shot coming towards them, and of others ducking before shells; but I saw no missiles, and, until I saw the result, did not know where to look for them.

After passing the Chinese ships, and firing like demons until the ship actually quivered on the glassy water, we all – I mean the first four vessels – left the enemy on the starboard quarter, and turned to port. We had passed thus along in front of, and to the starboard side of, the Chinese, and now, in response to signals, rounded back, starboarding the helm, and came behind the advancing Chinese, having driven the small vessels away to the north.

Then the conflict began again for us, while the main squadron were attacking in front. I could perceive that some of our ships were getting badly hurt. One of the Japanese vessels came through the Chinese line most bravely, but came out shattered and in flames. Her bulwarks were smashed, and her deck shambles enveloped in fire, as she had met two Chinese dragons, veritable monsters, iron-cased.

Then we came in behind the main squadron, as the Chinese swept on and round to starboard to cut off our stragglers, and the main line of our ships came on on their quarters and gave them none. The "Rising Suns," their rayed naval ensigns, blowing out in the draught – for there was little wind – advanced with deadly intent, the flags floating proudly amid the smoke and flames.

Close came the fire, and still closer, as the Japanese "circled" in two divisions, and in opposite directions, around the Chinese ships. Shells crashed and shot thundered, bullets whizzed and sang in all directions, and over all the flame-streaked smoke of guns and furnaces poured out and hung upon the scene, as if to conceal man's awful passions and fierce conflicts. Through this Gehenna we rushed at great speed, tossing the water upon our sterns and bows, to leave it seething astern jotted with plunging shot.

One Chinese vessel, in particular, I noticed, which was most fearfully punished. We dosed her well, and passing on saw her sinking slowly, certainly, her decks battered and bathed in blood, her dead and wounded left, and her living crew shouting for the aid which never could come, as the ship heeled over and sank helplessly, the cries of the doomed Chinese being audible even above the fearful roar of the opposing guns.

We, the Naniwa's, continued our chase of two Chinese ships for a while longer, and would have destroyed them willingly had not our captain seen a signal of recall. As he had both eyes – and not one blind side – he was compelled by discipline to return to the main squadron. It was then about half-past three p.m. In all these encounters the Naniwa, being last in the line, did not receive any damage, nor did I see a dead or severely injured man.

But when we came near the flagship I learned what war was.

We had come back as ordered at full speed to the main body, and found them all in full conflict, the terrible effects of the heavy guns being visible to the unaided eye, and the shells were still causing flames to break out in the opposing ships. One of the big Chinese ships tried to ram us, and we had a narrow escape. I ran forward to my young Japanese friend, and stood by him. But the ships made such a tremendous attack upon her that she was almost helpless.

"Suppose she had rammed us?" I said nervously to my friend.

"We should have been picked up," he replied carelessly; and this cool reply from a Japanese lad is deserving of mention. It was worthy of a young Nelson, who in such surroundings could quietly contemplate the sinking of the ship, in full assurance that his mates would pick up all they could even in the midst of the battle.

This faith was justified in some degree, for the great Chinese ship was shot through. Time after time the Japanese shot and shell struck her, battered her, splintered and dinted her. Her inner fittings must have been shattered, and her guns dismounted. Still she persevered. She pluckily retaliated until we perceived she was listing to starboard more and more, her port-side being less exposed. She was sinking.

Sinking! Yes, I could see she was settling amid the smoke, and she herself in flames. An awful sight! We, with other ships, kept our circular course around the poor vessel; it seemed cowardly. She was burning fiercely; great masses of smoke rose up and drifted over the ships, and yet she did not strike, but fought it out, until at length, blazing, she plunged suddenly down, and slowly disappeared, hissing at her enemies, shrouding them in what seemed a deep shadow after the brightness of flame. It was like the sudden sunset on the sea.

Then I felt almost sick and angry with my friends. The fearful destruction of life which I had witnessed made me feel "bad," and savage too. I was curiously placed, and was debating with myself, when a great shell, and then another, from the big guns of the Chinese flagship came plump upon the Japanese flagship. No one, I think, who has not witnessed the effect of modern artillery can conceive of the destruction which these two shells caused in the ship attacked. My reflections were suddenly banished.

Fancy a mass of metal discharged into a warship's steel armour, and bending it, shattering it, smashing the gun behind the shield, and dashing on almost unchecked, plunging almost into the magazine, exploding the ammunition near it, and killing all there. Then, not satisfied, it set fire to the ship, which burned for a long time. The other shell apparently had made a big hole in the port-side, by the lower deck, struck upwards to the opposite side, and sent a gun overboard, or tumbled it below. The loss of life was tremendous; about eighty killed and wounded by these two discharges alone, besides the other damage done by the explosion of the quick-firing ammunition which lay around. Had the fire thus caused reached the magazine, the Matsushima's career must have ended then and there, and the Japs would have had to lament a terrible loss in their admiral. As it was the guns had to be manned by marines and recruits afterwards.

But the Ping-yuen, which had done this damage, was also seriously injured and "fired." Had not other ships come to her assistance, I think she must have been destroyed. Thus the battle raged until the Chinese, outmanoeuvred, separated themselves from their enemy and dispersed.

The evening was by this time closing in. It was already five o'clock. The great Chinese ironclads continued the contest as long as possible, their action being directed by the German officer – the same, I was given to understand, who had been released with the passengers in the Kowshing. Why this German soldier was intrusted with the control of the Chinese squadron was one of the topsy-turvy "Celestial" decisions which happen in China, where the admiral himself had served in a military capacity.

The firing slackened. The Japanese ships had quite outmanoeuvred their opponents, and at length they steamed away from the fatal circle on which the "Rising Suns" threw a lurid light. The circling vessels moving to the attack in opposite directions gave the Chinese no quarter; the latter became confused and fought independently, while the Japanese, as I can testify, kept touch with each other, and implicitly obeyed the signals of Admiral Ito.

So the Chinese fleet was crumpled up, the great ironclads alone displayed confidence, and they, at dusk, retreated, followed by the Japanese at a respectful distance, fearing torpedoes, of which the Japs had not one in action, having left their boats in harbour.

At six o'clock the battle was ended. Then, while slowly pursuing the enemy, the doctor's report was presented. To my unbounded astonishment the Naniwa had absolutely not one man reported dead or even wounded. No doubt there were some contusions, but the hands assembled later, and not a man was missing at quarters.

As soon as I could, I joined my young Japanese friend and engaged him in conversation.

"Have the Chinese cut and run?" I asked, after some few remarks and congratulations had passed. "What shall we do now?"

"Pursue them. You perceive we are following them in a parallel course. They will take shelter in Wei-hai-Wei."

"But has not some change taken place in the ships. I see the flagship has been doing something."

"Your eyes are pretty smart," he replied. "The admiral has transferred the flag to the Hashidate. The Matsushima requires repair, and is lying up for Japan. We have gained a victory."

As if to accentuate his declaration, at that moment the admiral appeared upon the deck of the Hashidate, amid lights, and cheering, marines presented arms, and all the crew uncovered dark heads in the dying daylight. From ship to ship the cheering spread, and speeded many brave souls to heaven in the excitement attendant upon the martial strains of the solemn "Kimi-ga-yo," the National Anthem. Far over the now quiet sea, and amid the still evening air, the music died away in the distance. The lusty singing accompanied by the band made all pulses beat as fiercely as in action; and as a good omen a falcon flew down and perched upon the Takachiho.

"Look, look!" cried my friend. "The falcon alights. He rests upon the main topsail-yard of the ship. Surely someone will capture it?"

"Not very likely," I replied, "unless it is tired or tame it will quickly escape. We shall not be able to ascertain at anyrate till the morning. What a curious incident!"

"It means good luck," said my friend. "For hundreds of years our philosophers have agreed that the falcon brings good fortune to the Japanese. So this is a splendid omen for us, and a bad one for our enemies."

"I am pleased that I am a friend, then," I replied, laughing. "The bird, I hope, has nothing evil in store for a volunteer."

"I do not think so," he replied, joining in my humour. "But here's something to interest us both," he continued, as a marine approached and saluted.

A few sentences were exchanged, and my young friend turned to me, saying —

"Here's an opportunity for a volunteer. Do you understand the Chinese language?"

"I can make myself understood in it, a little," I answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Because someone has suspected you of being a spy," he replied. "You must see the captain at once, and explain matters to him. One of the officers has sent me the message; I must speak to the lieutenant. Wait here for me; someone has been talking about you. Wait a while."

Then he went aft, leaving me to think of this new misfortune. The trail of "Fêng Shui" was over it all.