Under the Mikado's flag

While the Japanese troops in Korea were preparing to attack the Russians at the Yalu River news came to the front of the destruction of a large warship stationed in Port Arthur harbor.

This was the Russian battleship Petropavlovski, the flagship of Admiral Makaroff. She was one of the largest ships in the Russian navy and carried between seven hundred and eight hundred men.

The destruction of this magnificent vessel came about in rather a peculiar manner. For a long while the Russian fleet had remained in the harbor at Port Arthur, refusing to come out and fight the Japanese fleet on the high seas, away from the protection of the land batteries.

As a ruse the Japanese admiral sent forward, one misty morning, a small squadron of fighting ships of the second class, which began a vigorous but rather useless bombardment. In the meantime the big Japanese battleships kept entirely out of sight.

Seeing no ships but the little ones, the Russian admiral lost no time in going forth to meet the enemy. At once the Japanese warships retreated, but did it so slowly that the Russian ships were led on and on, until they were about fifteen miles out to sea. As soon as this was accomplished a wireless message to the big Japanese ships was forwarded, and they at once put on all steam, to get behind the enemy, and thus cut the Russians off from the harbor, in which case they would no longer have the aid of the land batteries, and would have to face, in the open sea, a force considerably larger than their own.

The plan was well laid and would have succeeded had it not been for a sudden change in the weather. Quite unexpectedly a stiff breeze sprang up, blowing the mist away. As soon as the sun began to peep through the clouds the Japanese warships trying to get behind the Russians were discovered, and Admiral Makaroff at once signaled to his fleet to return to the harbor with all speed.

Disappointed at being unable to surround his enemy, Admiral Togo put on all steam and went in pursuit and then began a chase such as has not been seen since Admiral Cervera was followed by our own warships from out of Santiago harbor. Back for Port Arthur went the Russian vessel, battleships, cruisers, and all, steaming as they had never steamed before.

In coming out of the harbor the Russian ships had carefully avoided the numerous mines planted there. But they knew little about the Japanese torpedoes placed to do them harm, and without warning the Petropavlovski came upon one of these.

A dull report was heard, and a great cloud of greenish-white water and smoke arose in the air. Then, as the big battleship was seen to lurch to one side, came another report, louder than the first, and once more the water flew in all directions, while this time a heavy cloud of black smoke arose in the air, mingled with wreckage and the forms of officers and sailors.

An instant later the battleship gave another lurch, swayed unsteadily for a moment, and then burst into flames from stem to stern. As the horrified onlookers gazed at the spectacle the ship swayed again, turned over on her side, and then, with a strange hissing and roaring, disappeared beneath the waves, carrying her gallant admiral and over six hundred officers and sailors with her.

For the time being there was utter confusion in the Russian squadron and the other vessels scarcely knew what to do. One ship, the Poltava, put out several small boats and succeeded in saving seven officers, seventy-three sailors, and also the Grand Duke Cyril, who chanced to be on board.

The Russian squadron was now close to a place of safety, but their troubles were not yet over. Only a few minutes later, a mine exploded close to the side of the Pobieda, tearing a great hole in the battleship. But as good fortune would have it, this explosion failed to set off any of the magazines, as had been the case with the flagship, and with her bulkheads tightly closed, the crippled vessel managed to get to her anchorage without further mishaps.

The loss of the great battleship Petropavlovski was a great blow to Russia, and when the news of the disaster reached that country everybody went into mourning. Many officers of reputation happened to be on board of the ship when she sank, and some of the bodies have never been recovered. It may be mentioned here that the battleship also had on board the famous Russian artist, Verestchagin, well known the world over for his war paintings. Just before the first explosion came he was seen on the deck, sketch-book in hand, making a pencil drawing. It was his last bit of work, for he went down with the ship.

“That must have been a horrible sight,” said Gilbert, to Ben, when they were discussing this bit of news. “Think of the hundreds of officers and sailors that were drowned.”

“It puts me in mind of the sinking of our battleship Maine, in Havana harbor,” returned Ben.

“Somehow, the Russians don’t seem to be able to do a thing on the water,” went on Gilbert. “They have sunk or disabled a few small Japanese ships, but that is all, while they have lost some of the very best warships they possessed.”

“I take it that the Japanese gunners are well trained, Gilbert. They have sent their young naval officers to America and to Europe to learn all they possibly could, and being ambitious to make a record they are doing their level best—while the Russians seem to be satisfied to rest on laurels gained years ago. If the Czar wants to do anything he has got to wake up.”

“I see the Japanese warships are keeping right at Port Arthur. The bombardments must be something terrific.”

“No doubt they are. More than likely some of the residents of that town wish they were out of it.”

“I’d like to know what has become of that Captain Barusky and Ivan Snokoff.”

“Barusky likely has his hands full at the port. A sneak like Snokoff will probably keep as far from danger as he can. Such rascals have no use for fighting.”

Early the following morning Major Okopa’s command moved forward once more, along with over four thousand of the Japanese troops, infantry and artillery. It was an inspiring sight, and despite the bad weather that had been experienced, and the awful condition of the roads, the majority of the troops were in good spirits.

“This is like a touch of old times in the Philippines,” observed Gilbert, as the command swung along through a side road, cut through a heavy forest. “The jungle isn’t quite as bad, but it is bad enough.”

“Wonder how soon we’ll get to some real fighting,” came from Ben.

“Perhaps before we know it,” answered his chum.

Gilbert was right—the fighting came that very day, just before sundown. Shots were heard ahead, and soon the advance guard came running back with the news that a Russian regiment had taken a stand on a small hill half a mile away.

This news acted like magic on the Japanese soldiers. As tired as they were from the day’s tramp, and despite the fact that they had had only a lunch at midday, and wanted their suppers, they set up a ringing shout, in which the young American officers readily joined.

“Forward!” was the cry, in Japanese, and forward went one command after another, Major Okopa’s battalion with the rest. The latter was ordered to move to the left, where some timber had been cut down the season before, leaving a field that was about half cleared and one studded with stumps and rocks.

“I see the Russians!” yelled Gilbert presently, and he was right. Almost at the same moment the enemy opened fire, and two of the University Corps went down badly wounded.

It was the “baptism of fire,” as it is called by old soldiers, but the corps stood the shock well. Without wavering it swept along, among the stumps and rocks until the order came to halt and lie down. From this position volley after volley was discharged at the Russian infantry, which was lodged behind a row of trees at the edge of a thick patch of timber.

“They’ve got an advantage over us,” said Gilbert. “Those trees are a great protection.”

“Wait until Koshama’s battery gets here,” answered Major Okopa. “It will make a hornet’s nest of the woods for them.”

The battery was already in position, and soon one of the guns was brought into play. The havoc along the edge of the timber patch was terrific, and in consternation the Russians fled.

“Hurrah! they are retreating!” shouted Ben, and leaped up, as did all those around him. Once more the Japanese soldiers swept forward and in a few minutes were as deep into the forest as were the Russians. Here something of a hand-to-hand encounter took place, lasting probably fifteen minutes.

By this time Gilbert’s fighting blood was thoroughly aroused and with dreams of victories won in Cuba, Luzon, and in China, he rushed forward, sword in one hand and pistol in the other. Scarcely had he covered a distance of fifty yards when he found himself in the midst of the battle, with several Russians directly in front of him.

It was a moment of peril and nobody could have realized it better than did the young American captain. He discharged his pistol point-blank at one of the Russians and saw the fellow go down with a wound in his side. Then a gun was discharged close to his ear, the bullet fairly clipping his hair. He turned and with his sword made a lunge at the shooter, giving him a slight wound in the shoulder. As he did so one of his own men leaped to the front and shot the Russian through the throat killing him instantly.

The battle was now a hot one on all sides. But the Russians knew they could not hold their ground, and they began slowly to retreat over the top of a hill, where, some days before they had had a battery planted. But orders had come to take the battery to the north side of the Yalu, and this order had been obeyed. There was some confusion, and in one instance twenty Russians were surrounded and taken prisoners. On the other hand six Japanese were killed and ten badly wounded.

Near the end of the engagement Gilbert found himself at the edge of a small brook which, some miles away, flowed into the Yalu. Ben’s command was not far away, and both young Americans were fighting almost side by side. It was growing dark, so the enemy could be seen only with difficulty.

“Wonder how long this is going to last?” Gilbert asked himself. “We shall have to call it off pretty soon.”

These thoughts had just crossed his mind, when without previous warning, three Russian soldiers came at him in a bunch.

“There is the American!” shouted one, in his native tongue. “Down with him! Such as he has no right to fight with the Japanese!”

A shot was fired, and Gilbert felt himself struck lightly in the left arm. Another shot whistled past his face. He tried to dodge to one side, but hitting a rock, stumbled and fell. Then a Russian lieutenant saw his plight and leaped forward, sword in hand, to run him through and through.