The applause this time was real and hearty enough, and several of the officers who were sitting near me offered me their hands and smilingly complimented me.
“Very well, then, gentlemen, that matter is settled, and most satisfactorily, too, in my humble opinion. And, now, as to details. Divisions 1, 2, and 3 of the destroyer flotilla will attack the fleet at Port Arthur; Divisions 4 and 5 will proceed to Dalny in quest of the Russian destroyers said to reconnoitre in that direction nightly; and all will inflict as much damage as possible upon the enemy. Captain Matsunaga of the Asashio will command Divisions 1, 2, and 3; while Captain Nagai will command Divisions 4 and 5. The flotilla will start at five o’clock this evening. You are dismissed, gentlemen. I thank you for your honourable attendance, and the assistance which you have rendered me.”
Chapter Five.
MY “BAPTISM OF FIRE.”
The weather had cleared somewhat during the afternoon, but when, at a few minutes before five o’clock, the Mikasa made the signal for the destroyer flotilla to weigh and proceed, the clouds had gathered afresh, and it was looking as wild as ever. It was exactly five o’clock when the Asashio, followed by the Kasanumi, led the way out to sea; and as we began to move, the Admiral signalled us: “Go in and sink the enemy’s fleet. I pray for your success.”
The Elliot group of islands, from which we started upon our great adventure, is situated some sixty miles north-east of Port Arthur, and within some seven or eight miles of the mainland. Our nearest and best way, therefore, under ordinary circumstances, would have been to creep down the coast close inshore. But this would have involved our passing Dalny on the way, and there were the Russian destroyers, which were said to patrol as far as that place every night, to be reckoned with. We did not desire to encounter them on the way, and so afford them a chance to slip back to Port Arthur and give the alarm; our object was to get in between them and Port Arthur, and so cut off their retreat. Also, we had decided to approach Port Arthur from the south-west, so as to give the idea that we were the Russian boats returning after a scouting excursion in the offing; we therefore headed due south at the start, our speed being fifteen knots, which was later increased to twenty-two, as the course which we had decided upon took us far out of our way and nearly doubled the distance to be run.
The sun disappeared beneath the horizon in a heavy squall of rain, the wind breezed up fiercely, and it was piercingly cold. The night shut down upon us dark as a wolf’s mouth, the only relief to the intense blackness being the phosphorescence of the bow wave as it swept, roaring and scintillating away to port and starboard, and the faint gleam of a shrouded lamp which each vessel bore at her taffrail as a guide to the craft next astern of her. Well, so much the better; the darker the night, the better for our purpose; only I fervently wished that the water had not been so brilliantly phosphorescent, for in the intense darkness the gleam of it was visible for quite a considerable distance, and I feared that, if the Russians were keeping a sharp lookout, it would prematurely reveal our approach. We had cleared for action before getting under way, and each boat carried two torpedoes in her tubes, her guns loaded, and ammunition ready to pass up on deck at a moment’s notice.
Hour after hour we steamed on, describing the arc of a big semi-circle as we altered our course from time to time, until at length we were heading west-nor’-west for Port Arthur; and during the whole time we had not sighted a craft of any description.
At length, about half-past ten, the darkness ahead seemed to grow blacker than ever, and turning to Ito, who stood beside me on the bridge, I said:
“Do you see that darkness ahead, Ito? Surely that is the loom of land.”
“Yes,” answered Ito, who spoke English excellently. “Without a doubt that is the high land on either side of Port Arthur; and—ha! there is the Pinnacle Rock light, straight ahead. By Jingo! as the honourable English say, Captain Matsunaga has ‘hit it off splendidly.’ And see there,”—as a light began to wink at us from the bridge of the Asashio ahead—“there is the signal for the 4th and 5th Divisions to part company. Yes; there they go; and now, as again the honourable English say, ‘we shan’t be long.’”
I shivered involuntarily. A quarter of an hour more and that blackness ahead would be pierced by the blinding rays of the inexorable searchlights and stabbed by the fierce flashing of artillery, the glare of bursting shells, and the radiance of star rockets. And we should be in the midst of it. It would be my first experience of actual warfare, and I wondered how I should pass through the ordeal. I had already learned that the Japanese soldier or sailor is absolutely the most fearless creature in existence. He fears death as little as he fears sleep, provided that it comes to him in the service of his Emperor and his country. To die for his Emperor, indeed, who is to him as a god, is the very highest honour, the greatest glory, that the male Japanese can look forward to. He faces such a death with the same pure joy, the same exaltation, that the early Christian martyrs displayed when they were led forth to die for their faith. It was this spirit, this eagerness, this enthusiasm to die in battle, that caused the enormous losses suffered by the Japanese during the war; but it made them invincible! How was my conduct going to compare with that of men like these, I who was animated by no more lofty sentiment than the desire to do my duty to the best of my ability, to play my part as a man should, and, above all, to uphold the honour and dignity of my race? I was happy in the conviction that I should not disgrace myself by any exhibition of craven fear, but what I dreaded was that in the excitement of the moment I should get “nervy,” lose my head (if only figuratively), and perhaps forget to do something that I ought to do, to miss some opportunity that I ought to see and seize. “Brace up, Paul!” I said to myself, “pull yourself together for the honour of the dear homeland; forget all about yourself, and think only of the work that lies before you.” And I did. My thoughts went back to my talk with the Admiral in the Mikasa’s cabin that afternoon; I suddenly remembered that the work in hand was to be carried out as I had planned it; and in a moment all my anxiety vanished, I was my own man again, mentally planning what I would do; and from that moment I felt as cool and collected and keen as was Ito who stood beside me.
As the tail lights of the 4th and 5th Divisions of the flotilla vanished in the darkness on our port quarter, the Asashio’s signal lantern began winking again, and Ito read off and translated the message to me:
“Reduce speed to twelve knots. Be ready to show signal lanterns if required. When I starboard helm, Division one will follow me, while Divisions two and three will port helm and sheer off to the eastward.”
A single flash from our own carefully shrouded signal lanterns informed the Commodore that the message had been read and understood, and all was opaque darkness once more. The rain had by this time cleared off and the atmosphere was much clearer, so clear indeed that the outlines of the hills ahead showed with tolerable distinctness, and the water was getting smoother.
The lighthouse light was showing very bright and clear by this time, and two or three other and much dimmer lights, like those of houses, showed here and there in the shadow of the hills. The gap between the hills which marked the harbour entrance was also visible, while a faint glare in the sky to the right of it showed that Port Arthur was still awake. But everything seemed absolutely peaceful, and there were no signs of that alertness which we had expected to find.