In the Yellow Sea

[1] Should any reader need evidence of these days let him see the illustrated papers of the time.

My interpreter shook his head. He could do nothing. Remembering his former conduct, I began to fear that he had some sinister object in his mind's eye. I asked him what I should do, and then as he paused in his reply, I demanded why he had robbed me before. My fears were then allayed, because I saw the Japanese officer, Tomi's brother, approaching. But the interpreter remained perfectly calm to all appearance. He merely deprecated any reference to such an unpleasant incident, by a shrug of the shoulders, and an appealing movement of his hands.

"Then you intended to destroy me!" I exclaimed. "What do you propose now? May I ask you, sir, to question this man about his conduct while in my society, when, as I have told you, I was robbed by him and left alone to find my way across the isthmus."

The interpreter's nimble tongue was at a loss for once. He could not advance any excuse.

"Did this man rob you?" asked the officer. "Speak, sir."

"Yes," I replied. "Let him deny it if he can."

The Japanese officer turned to the interpreter and said something to him, motioning to the soldier who had accompanied me to advance.

The traitor fell upon his knees, Chinese fashion, but what he said I could not understand. He produced the revolver, however, and some papers.

"He declares he was instructed to take these from you, for fear of your safety if they were found upon you by the natives. Is that so?"

"Not at all. I was given the pistol and money by your brother for my protection. He had already defended me, and the captain of the ship urged my departure as a scout, knowing some Chinese. They hoped I would remain with the army, reach Port Arthur, and so get away."

"Then you were suspected on board?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, because I was sailing in the Chinese transport, I think. Your honourable brother assisted me, and intended to send me to the British fleet."

"He had no authority to do so. But I am sure the captain would have landed you at Chemulpo had you desired it."

"I did not want to be landed. I am a sailor, and wished to continue on board until I could be sent to Shanghai or Chefoo."

"It appears to me now that you did wrong. You had better have landed and made your way, with the assistance of your consul, to China. But matters seem also to have been against you. As for this man's statement respecting the robbery, I do not believe it. He has traduced my brother."

Then followed a few sentences in the Japanese language, which sounded particularly harsh. I saw the man seized by the soldier, and cried out. The officer turned to me inquiringly.

"What do you intend?" I asked. "What punishment?"

"I shall strike off his thievish hand."

"Oh no!" I pleaded. "There has been slaughter and hacking enough! Let him go free!"

"He has lied concerning my brother. He deserves to die! I shall only prevent his robbing in future. Take him, and keep him in guard."

The soldier tied the man's hands together with his belt, and drove him away before him, leaving me with the officer. My appeal had been in vain. As a fact, I had no energy to continue the question, because my bodily strength was waning fast. The excitement which had so far sustained me was already disappearing, and the disgust which had replaced it did not tend to keep me up.

The Japanese officer perceived this, and beckoned me to accompany him. I saw he was anxiously looking at my pallid face. What would have become of me had he not come to my rescue I did not venture to think. I followed him closely, and retraced my bloodstained steps through the lately prosperous-looking streets, then well furnished with shops, now a terrible line of dismantled houses; goods lying upon the ground amid the dead, and accentuating the desolation.

My conductor took me to an inn, or hotel, in which resided, temporarily, several Japanese. These gentlemen, I ascertained, were journalists and artists employed by the newspapers and others, for the Japanese people took the greatest interest in the struggle with China. Two of these men spoke English quite sufficiently for conversational purposes, and they made me welcome by request of the officer.

"When opportunity occurs," he said, "we will send you home. Perhaps we may despatch you to one of your men-of-war vessels. Farewell!"

I had only time to thank him for the idea of such a happy despatch, when I felt faint and sick. My new friends immediately removed me to an upper chamber,—a rather unusual thing in China,—and laid me upon the couch or bench which was then being warmed by the hot air from the fire or "furnace." Handing me a thick counterpane, which the increasing cold made acceptable, my friend left me to recover myself—my strength and my self-possession.

It was long before I was able to rise. The day passed. Food was repugnant to me. My brain reproduced all the horrors I had witnessed, and I shuddered as with ague. The night was still more dreadful, as my solitude was invaded by three of the company, and I was thankful when morning again dawned and left me alone, if listless and ailing.

I must pass rapidly on, for nothing occurred to alarm me. I lay quiet, eating and sleeping and thinking. My new companions amused me by telling me their adventures, and listening to mine. They taught me some of their language, and I imparted to them some English. The weather grew worse, frost and snow set in, with bitter winds; and I learned that the headquarters of the army had been fixed at Kinchow, till the second army—Port Arthur force—made northward for Kai-ping. The Japanese fleet was in Talien Bay. Winter had set in in earnest, and transport was very difficult.

Christmas passed. Such a Christmas it was, too. I felt like the boy who had been left at school while all the other fellows went home for the holidays. Most of my companions had scattered, but two stayed, one for some Government business, and the other awaiting orders as to the disposal of the quantities of plunder and stores, before leaving to join the fleet. We conversed in a mixture of Japanese and English, a dialect which did more to keep up my spirits than anything save release, because we laughed at each other's mistakes all day. The weather became very cold, and as the year came to an end I began to feel "hipped," and really uneasy. But the New Year caused a change in the troops' quarters, and indirectly in mine, for when the second army advanced, or rather a portion of it advanced, to the north, to join the Yalu army, I was very agreeably surprised by a visit from the officer I knew as Tomi's brother, and, best of all, he was accompanied by Tomi himself. This visit was paid in the month of January 1895, when I was feeling extremely "low."

My astonishment was great as my pleasure at the meeting, and in my delight, being also conceited about my new attainments, I exclaimed in "dog" Japanese—

"Tenno Heika Banzai! Nippon Yüsen Kabushiki Kaisha! So glad to see you again!"

Somewhat to my astonishment the two officers touched their caps, and, looking at each other, burst into a hearty peal of laughter. I stared. What had I said? I felt guilty and nervous, then annoyed at the laughter.

"Well, gentlemen, what's the joke?" I said. "Have I in any way offended you? Pray accept my excuses—in English. I assure you"—

"Please excuse us," said the naval officer, seizing my hand. "We are delighted to learn that you have mastered Japanese as well as Chinese and French. Thank you for Emperor and Company."

"I think you do not quite understand," remarked my military friend. "Do you know what you did say?"

"Yes—at least I think so. I intended to cheer your Emperor and you, and to wish success to the Japanese united arms. I suspect I made a little mistake."

"No, no!" cried the young lieutenant Tomi. "It was beautiful! Splendid! It sounded so well, too. Didn't it?" he asked, turning to his brother.

"Yes; and so exactly to the point," added the captain, laughing again. "You are already an interpreter, Mr. Julius."

I felt rather "at sea" at this renewal of the merriment, but the officers quickly subdued their laughter, though it occasionally burst out in spasms while they alternately announced their business.

"We have another mission for you, Julius," said the younger. "A pleasant little trip to an English man-of-war perhaps."

I leaped to my feet in delight. "Really?" I said. "You mean that?"

"Oh yes, certainly. We understand English," he said, laughing.

I blushed, and felt annoyed with Tomi. But I dare not show this.

"When you and your brother have quite finished laughing"—I began.

But this attempt at dignity set them off again, and though really angry, I was compelled to join them. The whole business seemed so ridiculous.

"Pray pardon us," gasped the elder officer. "This is really business—from the admiral."

"The admiral!" I exclaimed. "Does he know anything about me?'

"Of course, certainly; and when you talk to him in Japanese"—

This caused another explosion, and I made condemnatory remarks concerning the native smile.

"Well," I asked coldly, "any further joke?"

"This is no joke, indeed," said the sailor. "The Admiral Ito wants a letter conveyed to the Severn—what you call it—cruiser, for conveyance to Admiral Ting, the Chinese naval commander. The little difficulty arose about the messenger being a Japanese, and then I reminded my captain that you were in Port Arthur, and trustworthy. My brother had already told me so much. The immediate result has been our presence here, and our request to bring you to the admiral. Will you come? we will fit you out again."

"And I am to join the Severn?"

"Perhaps. At anyrate if you carry the letter, and bring back an answer or not, you can act as an ambassador."

"With pleasure," I cried, delighted to think I was again to be restored to British protection, and to see English faces. "I will accompany you at once."

I made some few—very few—changes in my appearance, which was a bit remarkable for an English youth, or "man." My stubbly hair, my thick wadded costume,—a la Chinois,—for your Chinaman pads his garments until his bulk, in winter, vies with Mr. Daniel Lambert, of pious memory. Thus, something like a clean scarecrow, crossed with the Fat Boy in Pickwick, I accompanied my deliverers.

As we quitted my quarters, I said as pleasantly as possible—

"Tell me the mistake I made when you came in?"

They smiled at the recollection, and the sailor-boy said, nodding at me—

"It was all right, really. You only said, Hurrah for the Emperor! and" (here he choked)—"and called out for the 'Japan Mail Steam Company.' That's all."

I laughed aloud at the connection. What I intended to say I have now no idea, and my Japanese friends never enlightened me.

This was my last attempt at Asiatic languages—on service.

"It is merely to convey a letter to the English admiral in the gulf outside Wei-hai-Wei. You have several ships there, and Admiral Ito is sending a squadron to keep watch on Tengchow and Wei-hai-Wei."[1]

[1] Pronounced Way-hi-Way.—H.P.

"Then you intend to capture and occupy Shengtung?"

"So it is understood, but we cannot decide that. The Naniwa or other vessel will convey you to Tengchow, close to Chefoo. There you will find your friend Goldheugh, or perhaps at Chefoo."

"That seems good enough," I said. "But why send me? Why not one of your own officers?"

"You are neutral," replied the young lieutenant, "and the communication is to the Chinese Admiral Ting. Both Chinese and Japanese respect English good faith, and any intervention by your force will prove its honesty of purpose."

I could only bow to this compliment, and did so with becoming gravity. "I am quite ready," I said. "When properly equipped and clothed I shall be at your admiral's service."

"Then I must bid you farewell," interposed the soldier, as we came in sight of Talien Bay. "We shall never meet again, perhaps, but I trust you will not judge all the Japanese soldiers from the specimens at Port Arthur. They were exasperated and triumphant, they were victorious all along the line, and irritated by the execution of prisoners."

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what the Japs would do if they were beaten, but fortunately I did not raise the discussion. It will be time enough to ask that question when they are pitted against a less yielding enemy. At present the Japanese have much confidence in themselves, and are most enthusiastic. Time will show results.

My parting with the staff-officer was most friendly and regretful. He had nobly paid his debt to the English lad whose countrymen had accepted him as a friend. And for my own part I think the English would do well to ally themselves closely with the Japanese nation, which is a coming factor in the Eastern world.

*****

I need not dwell upon the details of my mission. Let it suffice that I accompanied the Naniwa, one of the three ships composing a flying squadron to bombard Tengchow if necessary. On the 18th January 1895, the three ships sailed—the Yoshino, Akitsushima, and Naniwa, and after a trial engagement of blank cartridge they shelled the place.

When the feint was made the snow fell thickly, and so bad was the weather that any attack was out of the question. The bombardment was also delayed next day by a snowstorm, but in any case the ships were only employed to divert the attention of the Chinese fleet and army from the main attack of the chief Japanese squadron, and the army, which was landing in Shengtung. The Chinese sent their men to support the force at Tengchow, and meanwhile the Japanese troops landed at Yingching Bay, at the eastern extremity of Shengtung; and I did not see Captain Goldheugh.

When the Japanese arrangements had been carried out, and the army landed, the navy being concentrated in the Bay of Pechili, I was enabled to convey my missive to the admiral, and by him sent, per the Severn, to the Chinese admiral at Wei-hai-Wei. The letter itself was afterwards printed in the Japan Mail. It urged the Chinese to surrender. Admiral Ito stated that his "friend" Ting would be well treated if he would yield, and save much bloodshed. "I entreat you to credit my sincerity," he concluded. "I address this letter to you in pure friendship, and if happily you accept my counsel, I will, with your permission, address some further remarks to you on the subject, giving practical effect to the idea."

Admiral Ting did not reply, and when the 29th of January came, the fleet, which had meantime been making preparations to attack, began the bombardment. The army had already been feeling its way on land, and on the 30th it advanced and encountered the Chinese troops on the headlands, and drove them down to the seaside by Wei-hai-Wei. But then the Chinese fleet in the harbour came into action, and we heard the guns at ten o'clock a.m., and it was supposed that the Japs had retired, as indeed was the case.

But the eastern forts were taken later by the Japanese, who manned the captured guns. We subsequently heard many interesting and even romantic accounts of this attack, which succeeded so well that when the boats from the fleet made an attempt to break the east boom in the harbour they were fired at by the Japanese, thinking the Chinese were attacking from the sea side. This was on the night of the 30th January.

These incidents were related to me later, but I can tell something of the attack by sea, and I never wish to join in such another under such circumstances. It was not because I had any fear, that was not in my mind; but I did not at first take any real interest in the business. I wanted to be landed at Chefoo, and sent home, or, at anyrate, back to Shanghai. Instead, I was in the midst of storm and stress—winter of the most terrible, fire and cold, both almost equally deadly. As luck had it, the First Flying Squadron, in which the Naniwa was included, was "left out in the cold"; but I warmed up later to war-pitch.

Before I proceed with my narrative I must give you an idea of the surroundings. Wei-hai-Wei embraces a wide bay, perhaps twenty miles in extent, with hills crowned by forts and batteries on land. On the sea front it is protected by two islands, one (Lui-kung) of fair size, and inhabited; the other, Sih-tao, is merely the foundation of a fort. The former island separates the harbour into two entrances, in the eastern of which lies the smaller island-fort. At the opposite side is deep water, and in all directions on mainland and islands, on sea and shore, are defences—forts, batteries, mines, and ships of war—all Chinese. The Chinese fleet consisted of fifteen men-o'-war and gunboats, and thirteen torpedo-boats. The Japanese fleet numbered twenty-four ships and sixteen torpedo-boats. Besides these latter ships were numerous other vessels "looking on" and watching the struggle with the greatest interest. The captain of the Naniwa offered to send me on board an English ship, or convey me to Chefoo, but I thought I would see the match out—the end was not far off. Having gone so far I thought I had better complete the tale, and curiosity was at length aroused; my poor services were even enlisted on one occasion.

Besides the defences already mentioned, the Chinese had fixed two substantial booms across the bay. Steel hawsers, supplemented with great baulks of timber of immense thickness, anchored by chains and grapnels, were supplied with torpedoes on both sides, in addition to the mines outside. Had any European or Japanese soldiers been in possession of Wei-hai-Wei, or Port Arthur, it must have been impregnable, and if Russia seizes either place we shall find this out.

It was evident that the capture of Wei-hai-Wei depended upon the destruction of the boom; and this seemed to be an impossible feat. When the strength and position of the obstruction were considered, the desperate nature of the service might well have daunted the Japanese, who would be exposed to the fire of the forts and batteries in nearly all directions. But if the assailants hesitated it was only in order to make sure of the result.

The weather continued very bad, but worse was approaching. I had had no further news respecting Captain Goldheugh, and no one thought about my departure. The Japanese vessels were divided into five squadrons. The main squadron consisting of the flagship Matsushima, the Chiyoda, Itsukushima, and Hashidate. The four flying squadrons included first the Yoshino, Takachiho, Akitsushima, and Naniwa. The other three flying squadrons and the three torpedo-flotillas may be mentioned generally.

On the 30th January 1895 the Admiral Ito decided to attack. All the vessels united outside Wei-hai-Wei, and began patrolling the coast. At intervals, and later more constantly, we heard the heavy guns as the eastern forts were attacked by the troops ashore, and these continuous roars made us impatient of inaction.

"I wish I could do something," I said at last to Tomi. "Can't I join you if you go out in a torpedo-boat? Wouldn't your captain give me a chance to do something?"

"Perhaps he might. He would not refuse a volunteer; and you could steer the boat I suppose? Shall I ask the lieutenant?"

"Please," I replied. "Anything will be better than loafing here!"

"We shall not 'loaf' as you call it. The admiral has signalled us to be ready to support the attack, and no hammocks will be slung to-night."

"All right," I said; "the sooner the better! Where are we making for now?"

"For the western entrance. The main and second squad are guarding the eastern. That island with a fort upon it may give us a hint presently."

We continued to steam slowly to and fro all the morning. The roar of the engagement increased every minute, and all hands became excited. It was like a cat watching a mouse in a cage. We were so many cats prowling about the cage in which numerous Chinese "mice" were calmly seated watching us, while the dogs of war inland were worrying the dogs ashore. We could do nothing at our end, though it was pleasant to see the No. 3 and No. 4 squads had begun to throw shells at "long bowls" in the direction of the eastern batteries to support the land attack.

It was aggravating to see the big Chinese "mice" steaming inside the harbour, followed by some small craft—like micelets—between the islands, and assisting the forts, yet never venturing out into the gulf. But as the day wore into late afternoon a great white smoke arose on shore, and a fearful explosion rang the knell of the fort; with telescopes we could see the Chinese running away.

The admiral at this time signalled our No. 1 fleet to join him, and we went back to the long line, spreading ourselves all across the harbour outside. Then an order went out to try the boom that night, and the Chinese began to find our range from the islands, whence they began "pilling" us at frequent intervals, with the setting sun behind them, which interfered with the Japanese accuracy of fire. We managed to creep in to the east side and keep up the watch. Tomi was right; there was no hammocks slung. The men lay around the guns on mats.

That night was cold, and when I rose, shivering, I was glad to get warm clothing. As the day passed the snow and sleet came heavily down, and at last the storm hid everything. The wind and sea rose, and the thermometer and barometer fell fast. The ships were then fully exposed to the fearful storm on a lee shore; the thermometer was below freezing, and all chance of reducing Wei-hai-Wei more distant than ever! The climax for us came when the admiral, with three squadrons, retreated to the shelter of Yengching Bay, leaving us—the first squad—on guard in the snow and storm.

Yet not a single murmur arose from the ships which continued to watch the harbour, though the chances of the escape of the Chinese in such weather, and in such a gale, were infinitesimal. So the last day of January and the first of February passed in fearful discomfort, and without any opportunity of distinction, though all the other Japanese ships were in shelter, and thus left the Chinese to their own devices. When the cat is away the mice will play, and this proverb was fitly illustrated in this case, for on the 1st of February Admiral Ting destroyed all the guns in the western forts.

This was a very sensible move on his part, because he knew that if the enemy attacked and captured them the Japanese could have turned the Chinese guns against his fleet in harbour! So while the storm raged the Chinese sailors spiked the guns,[2] and thus caused a breathing space for the beleaguered inhabitants of the forts and ships. On the 3rd there was some exchange of "civilities," but the snow again caused a truce. That evening we had a little consultation on board the Naniwa, and the speculations as regarded our success were numerous and varied in their way, but the ultimate result was never doubted.

[2] An Englishman led the sailors that time.

"We must win," said one. "We hold the place now. We have seen the Chinese retreating. We have captured most of the forts. The Chinese may as well surrender!"

"They are too proud," said another. "The eyes of Europe are upon them."

"And on us," interrupted a third. "Shall we give way now? Certainly not!"

"What can we do then?" I ventured to ask (Tomi translated). "Cannot we attack by sea and break the boom? such things have been done."

I had read of this, and though I could not at the time recall the historical incident, the fact was impressed upon my mind.

"We must await orders. But it must come to that," said a senior.

"Mr. Julius will help when the time comes," said Tomi. "He will be on board one of the boats, I daresay."

"If permitted," I said. "When the weather moderates we shall see."

In this way we tried to cheer ourselves, and in other ways we managed to pass the terrible days of wind and snow. The ships were completely covered with snow, an inch thick, at least, even though the roll of the vessels shook off the flakes continually. The thermometer went down to twenty-five degrees below freezing, and that was quite sufficient for us at sea. When on the 3rd the weather improved we heard the news announced that the torpedo-boats were to have an innings, and I became excited.

I had never actually witnessed the attack of a torpedo. When formerly in the Naniwa I had seen a Chinese vessel sunk off Hai-yang, but had only seen the effects. Now, if permitted, I would perhaps see something new! A very novel experience indeed, because torpedoes had never been used in warfare before then. At intervals we had been exchanging shots and experimenting upon the boom, but none of us in our ship had been engaged. We were policemen, and little else. But the attempt had to be made, and, by what I may call accident, I was in the first attack.

There was an officer named Kosaki—a splendid fellow—who had done excellent service under fire before in a torpedo-boat, and he was attached to boat No. 6. There were ten boats employed, and the news was known that day, and there was talk of volunteers trying to proceed in her, for they all knew that "No. 6" was bound to do something! Tomi told me this. He had been ordered to carry a report to the main squadron, and suggested that I should accompany him.

"Perhaps you may have a chance to join the torpedo-boat," he said. I thanked him, and muffled up we were rowed to the flagship, where Tomi delivered his message. Then we perceived that the first squadron was closing in, and we waited on board the greater ship, which was firing at the Lui-kung Island as well as the smaller one. Lui-kung is precipitous and unassailable: the batteries were concealed, and some of the guns, I think, were depressed and raised, like the Moncrieff carriages at Woolwich long ago. The ships could not reach in close: the water is shallow, and the guns were well served. Meantime the Chinese rested behind the shelter of the boom.

"I hear we shall attack the boom to-night," said Tomi.

"Is there any chance of my finding a berth in the flotilla?" I asked.

"Ask the commander," said my friend. "The captain of No. 6 is a warrant officer. He might consent. Shall I try for you?"

I nodded assent. Perhaps it was a silly ambition! Tomi had a chance and grasped it. As the "captain" of the boat was descending the side Tomi arrested him, and made the request. Something was said, and then Tomi returned to me.

"Well?" I asked, feeling rather "half-hearted" about the result.

"You may join as a correspondent, but must not tell your experience till the place is taken—if you survive."

"He said so?"

"Yes. 'Let him come and die, if he wishes it,' he said."

"Then I just will go—and chance it!" I said boldly.

"All right. He is waiting. Good luck to you."

Having taken a regretful farewell of my kind friends I embarked on a junk in the harbour, such a queer craft she seemed. Tomi was in command of the ship's boat which put me on board, and we had quite an affecting parting. But both hoped to meet again, promising to write,—a promise since kept up, when newspapers do not sometimes take the place of letters. (Tomi has sent me much information since, and has translated several articles accompanied by pictures.[1]) However, we parted rather sadly, and on the 19th February I lost sight of the fleet, and reached Chefoo before dark.