Under the Mikado's flag

“We are off at last!”

It was Gilbert who spoke. Dressed in the uniform of a Japanese captain of infantry, he stood upon the deck of the transport Yojirama and saw the shipping of Nagasaki harbor fading rapidly in the distance.

The transports to carry soldiers and stores were twelve in number, and had as a guard three large warships and two torpedo destroyers. Each transport was crowded to the utmost, every foot of deck space being occupied.

“This is pretty much like a cattle ship,” remarked Ben, who stood near. “I don’t know what we are going to do if a storm comes up.”

“We’ll do as we’ve done before, Ben,—when serving under the flag,—make the best of it.”

“I shouldn’t mind a storm, unless it was a right out-and-out hurricane,” put in an old sailor who had joined the army.

“One might expect that, from such a sea-dog as you,” laughed Gilbert. “I know you don’t like anything better than to have it blow great guns.”

“Where are we bound, captain?”

“You’ll have to ask me something easier, Blarco. To Korea or Manchuria, I reckon.”

“All right—so long as it’s not the North Pole, I’m satisfied.”

“I imagine we’re going to follow the rest of the corps that went to Chemulpo and Chinampo,” came from Ben. “More than likely our troops will strike at the Russians from across the Yalu River.”

“Sounds rather odd to say our troops, doesn’t it?”

“It does,—but what else can you say?”

“Nothing. We are under the Mikado’s flag now and no mistake,” answered Gilbert.

The special command to which the ex-American lieutenant and his chum belonged occupied the center portion of the upper deck of the transport. The weather was no longer bitterly cold, but it was far from warm, and many of the soldiers were content to huddle down in sheltered corners, wrapped up in their army blankets.

All day long the Japanese warship hovered around the transports, looking for the possible appearance of a Russian war vessel. It was known that the enemy had a small fleet stationed at Vladivostok, in Siberia, just north of Korea, and it was thought that this fleet might swoop down upon the transports and cause serious trouble. But, luckily for the Yojirama and the other ships, no enemy put in an appearance.

The truth was, the Vladivostok fleet was still hard and fast in the ice which blocked that harbor, and it was not until March 19 that it was able to blast its way out with dynamite and get into proper trim for fighting. Then it sailed away, the Japanese spies knew not whither, but presumably to join the Russian fleet at Port Arthur. Before this took place the Japanese endeavored to bombard Vladivostok, but without material success.

The course of the Yojirama was past the southern extremity of Korea, and then up the western coast. There was now no doubt in the minds of the young Americans but that they were to land as already surmised, and Gilbert brought out a small map of Korea and Manchuria which he carried, and began to study it diligently.

“I want to get the lay of the land in my head,” he said to his chum. “Then, when we make a move, I’ll know what we are doing.”

“I want to study that map too,” came from Ben, and he did so. From it they learned that Korea was about a hundred and fifty miles from east to west, and about six hundred miles from north to south. It was a peninsula, divided in part from the mainland by the Yalu River, which marked the boundary between Korea and Manchuria.

The native name of Korea is Cho-sen or Kao-li, and for years it was known as the Hermit Kingdom, because of its efforts to keep out all foreigners. It was formerly a portion of China, but became independent in 1895. The population is about eleven millions, of which about two hundred thousand live at Seoul, the capital on the river Han. Up to the present war the monarchy had been an absolute one, with the exception that many “favors” were granted to the Russian Government, but now great changes were about to take place.

Almost before the Koreans knew that the first gun had been fired a body of Japanese soldiers under General Inouye, marched upon Seoul and by a showing of arms compelled the emperor to listen to their demands. At this time a powerful Russian diplomat, M. Pavloff, was at Seoul and he was compelled to leave, being escorted to Chemulpo and placed on board of an outgoing ship under a Japanese guard. The Emperor of Korea was then compelled to recognize the power of Japan, and at once hastened to congratulate the Mikado on his naval successes, and said he trusted Japan would be equally successful on land. Thereupon a treaty was made between the two countries by which Japan took sole charge of all war affairs for both nations, but guaranteeing to Korea independence in the future. Later still, through the work of a powerful Japanese diplomat, Marquis Ito, Japan was given permission to build railroads through Korea, and occupy whatever points were necessary for the victorious conduct of the war. This practically shut the Russians out and made them bitter in the extreme.

The course of the Yojirama, was now past Chemulpo harbor, and then it became known that a landing would be made at Chinampo. This is the seaport of the important town of Ping-yang, sometimes known as Phyöng-yang, and located to the northeast, on the Tai-tong River.

The port of Chinampo is well protected from the fury of the Yellow Sea, when the winds are high, by a range of hills, and in this harbor all of the Japanese transports lost no time in landing their troops. All sorts of small craft were brought into use, from the transports’ rowboats to Japanese steam launches, and Korean sampans, the latter looking very much like our own mud scows, but with a small covering of palm leaves or other material over the stern. The work of landing was carried on day and night, and it was at two o’clock in the morning when Gilbert and his chum, with their command, found themselves left on the shore of the little bay, about quarter of a mile from the town. A stiff breeze was blowing and it was anything but comfortable.

“I’m going to have a cup of coffee,” said Ben, and forthwith set a Japanese cook to making the same. Gilbert joined him, and each drank two cups, which seemed to do them much good.

The distance from Chinampo to Ping-yang is about fifty miles, but the route by land or water is almost twice that distance. To the east and the west are great ridges of mountains, covered with a variety of trees and shrubs, nearly all, as yet, bare of leaves. The main highway into China from Seoul runs through Ping-yang and also touches Hwang-ju, which is midway between Ping-yang and the seacoast.

The following noon found the command on the march to a point where they were to meet another portion of the army bound for Ping-yang. It was reported that the soldiers ahead had already had a skirmish with the Russian outposts, in which none had been killed but several wounded.

“We’ll be on the firing line before a great while,” said Gilbert. “The Russians are not going to give up their hold on Korea, if they can help it.”

Once more, to the surprise of all, the weather turned out bitterly cold and there was a slight fall of snow. Meeting more troops and also several hundred coolies,—Japanese peasants brought along to “tote” baggage and stores—the whole body went into camp far the best part of a week not far from Hwang-ju.

“This is tough and no mistake,” said the old sailor, Blarco, as he hugged a small camp-fire which had been built. “I believe my left foot is about half frozen.”

“It’s no wonder, since we’ve been marching through icy slush six inches deep,” replied a brother soldier. “After all, campaigning in Korea is going to be no picnic.”

“Did you expect a picnic, when you enlisted?” asked Gilbert, who was munching a slice of not over-fresh bread.

“Not at all,” was the prompt answer. “But I did think spring would be here by this time.”

“I don’t think winter will last much longer,” said Blarco. “The snow is very wet and it will soon disappear. But, oh, for a good hot wind from the south!” and he heaved a sigh.

The young Americans found the town of Hwang-ju an interesting place, located on a small stream flowing into the Tai-tong. It is surrounded by such a wall as surrounds the majority of towns in Korea and China. There are quaint gates and towers. The Japanese were in command, and a small company of soldiers was located at the Water Gate, by the river, and another company at the town-hall.

A large portion of the town was in ruins, and it was learned from Major Okopa that this was due to the Chinese-Japanese War of 1894, when the Chinese were driven from the town by the sturdy sons of Nippon. At that time many places were burned or blown up, and to this day only a small portion of the ruins has been cleared away.

“I’m very much interested in the funny native shops,” said Blarco, as he and Ben and Gilbert strolled around. “Just look at the things to sell! Did you ever see such a mixture?” And mixture it certainly was, from wooden combs to thin Korean silks, and from cords for belts to printed cotton cloths, and white goods such as are rarely seen at home. There were also special stalls for the sale of paper, from the heavy and handsome quality used for floor coverings to the lighter grades used for walls and for writing and wrapping. Pottery ware was similar to that seen in Japan, and there was much in wood besides, and likewise curiously woven mats, and curtains, and rope harnesses for horses and ponies.

“What do these people live on mostly?” asked Ben.

“I asked that question of the major,” returned Gilbert. “He says the poorer people live on rice, peas, and beans, and radishes.”

“Radishes?”

“Exactly. They grow a big radish weighing two or three pounds, and pickle the thing for winter use, just as the German puts down sauer-kraut.”

Close at hand was the stall of a butcher, where were exposed for sale beef and mutton in small quantities, and also chickens, pheasants, hares, and a variety of small birds. Beside this stall was one for the sale of nuts of various kinds, and here the young Americans purchased some peanuts and some walnuts, which were as fine as they had ever eaten.