The fleet steamed during the night in the order of battle that Tegethoff had chosen. The divisions followed each other in succession, each in a wedge formation, the flagship of the division in the centre with the rest of the ships to port and starboard, not in line abreast, but each a little behind the other. The formation will be understood from the annexed diagram.

It was an anxious night for the Austrian admiral. For some hours there was bad weather. Driving showers of fine rain from a cloudy sky made it difficult at times to see the lights of the ships, and it was no easy matter for them to keep their stations. The sea was for a while so rough that the ironclads had to close their ports, and there was a danger that if the weather did not improve and the sea become smoother they would not be able to fight most of their guns. But Tegethoff held steadily on his course for Lissa. On sea, as on land, there are times in the crisis of a war when the highest prudence is to throw all ordinary rules of prudence aside, and take all risks.

The admiral had resolved from the outset that, whatever might be the result, the Austrian fleet should not lie in safety under the protection of shore batteries, leaving the Italian command of the Adriatic unchallenged. He felt that it would be better to sink in the open sea, in a hopeless fight against desperate odds, rather than ingloriously to survive the war, without making an effort to carry his flag to victory. So he steamed through the night, followed by his strange array of ships that another leader might well have considered as little better than useless encumbrances, and in front the handful of inferior ironclads that might well be regarded as equally doomed to destruction when they met the more numerous and more heavily armed ships of the enemy. But he had put away all thoughts of safety. He was staking every ship and every man and his own life against the faint chance of success. The coming day might see his fleet destroyed, but such a failure would be no disgrace. On the contrary, it would only be less honourable than a well-won victory, and would be an inspiration to the men of a future fleet that would carry the banner of the Hapsburgs in later days. So he rejoiced greatly when, as the day came, the weather began to clear, and the "Stadion" signalled back that Lissa was still holding out and the enemy's fleet lay under its shores.

As soon as he read the "Esploratore's" signal, Persano had no doubt that Tegethoff was upon him. He countermanded the attack on Lissa, ordered Albini to re-embark the troops, and proceeded to form his ironclads in line of battle, intending to engage the enemy with these only. The ironclads were standing in to attack the batteries of San Giorgio at the north-east end of the island. Persano formed nine of them in three divisions, which were to follow each other in line ahead, the ram "Affondatore" being out of the line and to starboard of the second division. The formation was as follows:—

The two other Italian ironclads, the "Formidabile" and the "Varese," were not in the line, and took no part in the coming battle. The "Formidabile" had suffered heavily in the attack on the shore batteries, numerous shells entering her port-holes and making a slaughterhouse of her gun-deck. She had been ordered to Ancona, and had left Lissa in the early morning. The "Varese" had been detached to assist in operations on the other side of the island, and joined Albini's squadron of wooden ships while the fight was in progress. Persano's battle line first steered west along the north side of Lissa. About ten o'clock the driving mist on the sea cleared, and the Austrian fleet was then seen approaching on a S.S.E. course. Persano altered his own course, and, led by Vacca in the "Principe di Carignano," the Italian ironclads turned in succession on a N.N.E. course. Thus as the Austrians closed on them the fleet in a sinuous line was steering across the bows of the attacking ships.

It was at this moment that Persano changed his flag from the "Re d' Italia" to the "Affondatore," the former ship slowing down to enable the admiral to leave her, and thus producing a wide gap between Vacca's and Faa di Bruno's divisions. The result of this sudden change of flagship was confusing, as most of the Italian ships were unaware of it, and still looked to the "Re d' Italia" for guidance, and did not notice signals made by the "Affondatore."

Tegethoff had given the successive signals as the mist dispersed, "Clear for action—Close order—Look-out ships return to their stations—Full speed ahead." As the last of the fog disappeared and the sun shone out, he saw to his delight the Austrian flag still flying on the hill-side batteries of Lissa, and close in front between him and the island shores the enemy's fleet crossing his bows. Out fluttered his battle signal, "Ironclads will ram and sink the enemy!" A final signal was being prepared, "Muss Sieg von Lissa werden!" ("There must be a victory of Lissa!"), but the close encounter had begun, and the ships were wrapped in clouds of powder-smoke before it could be hoisted.

While Persano was passing from the "Re d' Italia" to the ram "Affondatore," Vacca had begun the fight by firing his broadside at the advancing Austrians. The "Castelfidardo" and the "Ancona" followed his example. But Tegethoff held his fire, waiting for close quarters. One of these first shots killed Captain Moll of the "Drache" on the bridge of his ship. A young lieutenant took command of her. He was Weiprecht, who in later years became famous as the commander of the Austrian exploring ship "Tegethoff" in the Arctic regions.

As the fleets closed the Austrians opened fire, aiming, not at the armoured sides of the enemy, which no gun of theirs could penetrate, but at their port-holes and bridges. Tegethoff in his flagship the "Ferdinand Max" was looking for something to ram, but in the dense mass of smoke he passed through the wide gap between Vacca's division and the "Re d'Italia," then finding no enemy in his front, he turned and went back into the battle fog of the Italian centre. The three ironclads on his left ("Hapsburg," "Salamander," and "Kaiser Max") were engaged with Vacca's division, the van of the Italian fleet. The three others, "Don Juan," "Drache," and "Prinz Eugen," had flung themselves on Faa di Bruno's ships in the centre. Von Petz coming up with the wooden ships gallantly attacked Ribotti's rearward division, any one of which should in theory have been able to dispose of his entire force. The gunboats hung on the margin of the fight, which had now become a confused mêlée. And while the Austrian wooden ships were thus risking themselves in close action, Albini's Italian division of wooden ships looked on from a safe distance.

One can only tell some of the striking incidents of the battle, without being able even to fix the precise order of time in which they occurred. When the "Merrimac" sank the "Cumberland" with one blow of her ram in Hampton Roads, the Federal ship was at anchor. But even in the confusion and semi-darkness of the mêlée at Lissa it was found that it was not such an easy matter to ram a ship under way. The blow was generally eluded by a turn of the helm. Von Petz's flagship, the old three-decker "Kaiser," towering amid the battle-smoke, attracted the attention of Persano in the "Affondatore," and seemed an easy victim for his ram. But the big ironclad was unhandy, and took eight minutes to turn a full circle, and twice Petz eluded her attack. The two 300-pounders of the "Affondatore" did much damage on board the "Kaiser," but the wooden ship's broadside swept the upper works of the ram as the two vessels passed each other, and strewed her deck with wreckage. The fire of the heavy rifled guns on the Italian ironclads did severe execution on the Austrian wooden ships. The captain of the "Novara" was killed; the "Erzherzog Friedrich" and the "Schwarzenberg" were badly hulled, and leaked so that they were only kept afloat by their steam pumps. The "Adria" was three times on fire. But Petz and the wooden division did good service by keeping the rearward Italian ships fully occupied.

Meanwhile Tegethoff, standing on the bridge of the "Ferdinand Max," all reckless of the storm of fire that roared around him had dashed into the Italian centre. He rammed first the "Re d'Italia," then the "Palestro," but both ships evaded the full force of the blow, and the Austrian flagship scraped along their sides, bringing down a lot of gear. The mizzen-topmast and gaff of the "Palestro" came down with the shock, and the gaff fell across the Austrian's deck, with the Italian tricolour flying from it. Before the ships could clear an Austrian sailor secured the flag. It would seem that the glancing blow given to the "Re d'Italia" had disorganized her steering gear, and for a while she was not under control. Two other ships joined the flagship in attacking her, all believing she was still Persano's flagship. The "Palestro," fighting beside her, was set on fire by shells passing through her unarmoured stern. The fire made such rapid progress that she drew out of the fight, her crew trying to save their ship.

Von Sterneck, the captain of the "Ferdinand Max," had gone half-way up the mizzen-rigging, to look out over the smoke; he reported that the "Re d'Italia" was not under full control, and Tegethoff once more dashed at his enemy. The bow of the "Ferdinand Max" this time struck the "Re d'Italia" full amidships, and simply forced in her side, making an enormous gap, crushing and smashing plates and frames. As the "Ferdinand Max" reversed her engines and drew her bows out of her adversary's side, the "Re d'Italia" heeled over and sank instantly, carrying hundreds to the bottom and strewing the surface with wreckage and struggling men.

The Austrians, after a moment of astonished horror at their own success, cheered wildly. The "Ferdinand Max" tried to save some of the drowning men, and was lowering her only boat that remained unshattered by the fire, when the Italian ironclad "Ancona" tried to ram her. The Austrian flagship evaded the blow, and the "Ancona," as she slid past her, almost touching her gun-muzzles, fired a broadside into her. The powder-smoke from the Italian guns poured into the port-holes of the "Ferdinand Max," and for a few moments smothered her gun-deck in fog, but it was a harmless broadside. In their undisciplined haste to fire the Italians had loaded only with the cartridge, there was not a shot in the guns. This tells something of the confusion on board.

Another Austrian ironclad and two of the gunboats made plucky efforts to save some of the survivors of the "Re d'Italia," but they, too, were driven off by the fierce attacks of Italian ships.

Meanwhile Petz with his wooden ships had fought his way through the Italian rear. With his old three-decker he boldly rammed the "Re di Portogallo." The Italian ship evaded the full force of the blow, but the tall wooden vessel scraped along her side, starting several of her armour plates, carrying away port-hole covers and davits, dragging two anchors from her bows, smashing gun-muzzles and jerking four light guns into the sea. But the "Kaiser" herself suffered from the close fire of the "Re di Portogallo's" heavy guns and the shock of collision. Her stem and bowsprit were carried away, the gilded crown of her figure-head falling on her enemy's deck. Her foremast came crashing down on her funnel, and wrecked it, and the mass of fallen spars, sails, and rigging was set on fire by sparks and flame from the damaged funnel, the collapse of which nearly stopped the draught of the furnaces and dangerously reduced the pressure on the boilers and the speed of the engines.

The "Re di Portogallo" sheered off, but her consort, the "Maria Pia," came rushing down on the disabled "Kaiser." Petz avoided her ram, and engaged her at close quarters, but the shells of the "Maria Pia" burst one of the "Kaiser's" steam-pipes, temporarily disabled her steering gear, and did terrible execution in her stern battery. Petz himself was slightly wounded. With great difficulty he extricated his ship from the mêlée, and cutting away the wreckage, and fighting the fire that was raging forward, he steered for San Giorgio, the port of Lissa, to seek shelter under its batteries. His wooden frigates gallantly protected his retreat and escorted him to safety, then turned back to join once more in the fight. This was the moment when Albini with the Italian wooden squadron might easily have destroyed Petz's division, but during the day all he did was to fire a few shots at a range so distant that they were harmless.

Persano, in the "Affondatore," had for a moment threatened to attack the "Kaiser," as she struggled out of the mêlée. He steamed towards her, and then suddenly turned away. He afterwards explained that, seeing the plight of Petz's flagship, he thought she was already doomed to destruction, and looked upon it as useless cruelty to sink her with her crew.

The fleets were now separating, and the fire was slackening. In this last stage of the mêlée the "Maria Pia" and the "San Martino" collided amid the smoke, and the latter received serious injuries. As the fleets worked away from each other there was still a desultory fire kept up, but after having lasted for about an hour and a half the battle was nearly over.

Tegethoff, having got between the Italians and Lissa, reformed his fleet in three lines of divisions, each in line ahead, the ironclads to seaward nearest the enemy; the wooden frigates next; and the gunboats nearest the land. Every ship except the "Kaiser" (which lay in the entrance of the port) was still ready for action. Some of them were leaking badly, including his flagship, which had started several plates in the bow when she rammed and sank the "Re d'Italia." The fleet steamed slowly out from the land on a north-easterly course, the ironclads firing a few long-ranging shots at the Italians.

Persano was also reforming his fleet in line, and was flying a signal to continue the action, but he showed no determined wish to close with Tegethoff again. On the contrary, while reforming the line he kept it on a northwesterly course, and thus the distance between the fleets was increasing every minute, as they were moving on divergent lines. Gradually the firing died away and the battle was over. Albini, with the wooden squadron, and the ironclad "Terribile," which had remained with him, and taken no part in the fight, ran out and joined the main fleet.

Persano afterwards explained that he was waiting for Tegethoff to come out and attack him. But the Austrian admiral had attained his object, by forcing his way through the Italian line, and placing himself in a position to co-operate with the batteries of Lissa, in repelling any further attempt upon the island. There was no reason why, with his numerically inferior fleet, he should come out again to fight a second battle.

But though the action was ended, there was yet another disaster for the Italians. The "Palestro" had been for two hours fighting the fire lighted on board of her by the Austrian shells. Smoke was rising from hatchways and port-holes, but as she rejoined the fleet she signalled that the fire was being got under and the magazines had been drowned. Two of the smaller ships, the "Governolo" and the "Independenza," came to her help and took off her wounded. To a suggestion that he should abandon his ship, her commander, Capellini, replied: "Those who wish may go, but I shall stay," and his officers and men remained with him, and continued working to put out the fire. But the attempt to drown the magazines had been a failure, for suddenly a deafening explosion thundered over the sea, the spars of the "Palestro" were seen flying skyward in a volcano of flame. As the smoke of the explosion cleared, the heaving water strewn with debris showed where the ship had been.

The Austrian fleet was steaming into San Giorgio, amid the cheers of the garrison and the people, when the explosion of the "Palestro" took place. Persano drew off with his fleet into the channel between Lissa and the island of Busi, and when the sun went down the Italian ships were still in sight from the look-out stations on the hills of Lissa.

The Austrians worked all night repairing damages, and preparing for a possible renewal of the fight in the morning. But at sunrise the look-outs reported that there was not an Italian ship in sight. Persano had steered for Ancona after dark, and arrived there on the 21st.

He was so unwise as to report that he had won a great naval victory in a general engagement with the Austrians in the waters of Lissa. Italy, already smarting under the defeat of Custozza, went wild with rejoicing. Cities were illuminated, salutes were fired, there was a call for high honours for the victorious admiral. But within forty-eight hours the truth was known. It was impossible to conceal the fact that Lissa had been unsuccessfully attacked for two days, and that on the third it had been relieved by Tegethoff dashing through the Italian fleet, and destroying the "Re d'Italia" and the "Palestro," without himself losing a single ship. There were riots in Florence, and the cry was now that Admiral Persano was a coward and a traitor. To add to the gloom of the moment the ram "Affondatore," which had been injured in the battle, sank at her anchors when a sudden gale swept the roadstead of Ancona.

Three of the twelve Italian ironclads had thus been lost. Three more were unavailable while their damages were being slowly repaired. Peace was concluded shortly after, and the Italian navy had no opportunity of showing what it could do under a better commander.

In the sinking of the "Re d'Italia" some 450 men had been drowned. More than 200 lost their lives in the explosion of the "Palestra," but the other losses of the Italians in the Battle of Lissa were slight, only 5 killed and 39 wounded. The Austrians lost 38 killed (including two captains) and 138 wounded. These losses were not severe, considering that several wooden ships had been exposed to heavy shell-fire at close quarters, and one must conclude that the gunnery of the Italian crews was wretched. The heaviest loss fell on Petz's flagship, the "Kaiser," which had 99 killed and wounded. Some of the gunboats, among which were some old paddle-ships, though they took part in the fighting, had not a single casualty.

Persano was tried by court-martial and deprived of his rank and dismissed from the navy. Tegethoff became the hero of Austria. His successful attack on a fleet that in theory should have been able to destroy every one of his ships in an hour, will remain for all time an honour to the Austrian navy, and a proof that skill and courage can hope to reverse the most desperate disadvantages.

CHAPTER XII

But for nearly thirty years after Lissa there were no fleet actions. Ships, armour, guns, were all improved, and the great naval Powers built on a larger and larger scale. Steel took the place of iron as the material for shipbuilding and armour. Naval gunnery became a precise science. Torpedoes were introduced, and with them such new types of ships as the swift torpedo boat and the "destroyer." But there was very little fighting on the sea, though in the same period there were colossal conflicts on land.

Hundreds of armour-clads were built that became obsolete, and were turned over to the shipbreaker, without ever having fired a shot in action. Theories of tactics for fleet actions were worked out on paper, and tested to some extent at naval manœuvres, but the supreme test of battle was wanting. In the Franco-German War of 1870 the French navy had such a decided superiority that the few German warships of the day were kept in their harbours protected by batteries and sunken mines. The only naval action of the war was an indecisive duel between two gunboats. In the second stage of the war the officers and men of the French navy fought as soldiers in the defence of France. Guns were taken from the ships to be mounted on land fortifications. Admirals commanded divisions, formed largely of naval officers and bluejackets.

Again in the war of 1878 between Russia and Turkey the Russians had only a few light craft in the Black Sea, and the Turkish fleet under Hobart Pasha, weak as it was, held the undisputed command of these waters, and had only to fear some isolated torpedo attacks. In South American civil wars and international conflicts there were duels between individual ships, and some dashing enterprises by torpedo boats, but nothing that could be described as a fleet action between ironclads. The only time a British armoured fleet was in action was against the batteries of Alexandria on the occasion of the bombardment in July, 1882. The forts, badly armed and constructed, and inefficiently defended, were silenced, but a careful examination of them convinced experts that if they had been held by a better-trained garrison, the victory would not have been such an easy matter. This and subsequent experiences have led to the general acceptance of the view that it will be seldom advisable to risk such valuable fighting machines as first-class battleships and armoured cruisers in close action against well-constructed and powerfully armed shore defences.

It was not till the summer of 1894 that at last there was another pitched battle between fleets that included a large proportion of armoured vessels. That action off the mouth of the Yalu River will be always remembered as the event that heralded the coming of a new naval power.

A long rivalry between China and Japan for the control of Korea had resulted in an outbreak of war between the two empires of the Far East. For an island state like Japan the command of the sea was a necessary condition for successful operations on the mainland of Asia, and for some years she had been building up a powerful fleet, the ships being constructed in foreign yards, as the Japanese yards were not yet in a position to turn out large warships.

In the memory of living men the Japanese fleets had been made up of primitive-looking war-junks. After failures to build ships in Japan on the European model, the Government had in the middle of the nineteenth century purchased some small steamships abroad, but it was not till 1876 that the first Japanese armour-clad, the "Fuso," was constructed in England from designs by the late Sir Edward Reed. Naval progress was at first very slow, but solid foundations were laid. Young naval officers were attached to the British and other navies for professional training, and on their return to Japan became the educators of their fellow-countrymen in naval matters. A serious obstacle to the acquisition of a numerous and powerful fleet was the financial question. Japan is not a rich country. At first, therefore, the Japanese did not venture to order battleships, but contented themselves with protected cruisers. They thought that these would be sufficient for the impending conflict with China, which possessed only a fleet of weak, protected cruisers of various types and a couple of small coast defence ironclads, that might be counted as inferior battleships.

When war broke out between China and Japan in 1894, the fleet of the latter consisted of older ships of miscellaneous types, and a number of new protected cruisers, some of them armed with quick-firing guns, a type of weapon only lately introduced into the world's navies. Of these modern cruisers most had been built and armed in French yards, but the best and swiftest ship was a fine cruiser delivered not long before from Armstrong's yard at Elswick.

The following lists give some details of the Japanese and Chinese fleets, only the ships engaged at the Yalu battle being included. But these ships represented almost the entire strength of the two rival navies, and no really effective ship was absent on either side, while to make up the two squadrons ships were sent to sea that in a European navy would have been considered obsolete and left in harbour (see pages 256–7).

A comparison of these two lists brings out some interesting points. The advantage in gun power was clearly on the side of the Japanese. Of the heavier class of guns they had seventy to fifty-five, and there were no weapons in the Chinese squadron equal to the long 12½-inch rifled breech-loaders of French make, carried by four of the Japanese cruisers. But there was a further gain in gun power for the Japanese in the possession of 128 quick-firers, some of them of fairly heavy calibre. The quick-firing gun was then a new weapon. It is really a quick loader, a gun fitted with a breech action that can be opened and closed by a rapid movement, and so mounted that the recoil is taken up by mechanism in the carriage which at once automatically runs the gun back into firing position, while the process of loading is further accelerated (for the smaller calibre guns) by making up the ammunition like that of a rifle, with projectile and charge in a big brass-cased cartridge, so that the gun can be loaded up by one movement, and the cartridge contains its own means of ignition, and is fired by pulling off a trigger. The lighter quick-firers are further mounted on pivots, so that they can be easily moved through an arc of a circle by one man, who keeps his eyes on a moving target and his finger on the trigger ready to fire. The storm of shells that poured from the Japanese quick-firers was even more terrible for the Chinese than the slower fire of the heavy guns, and of these new quick-firing guns the Chinese only had three on the little "Kwang-ping."

The Chinese fleet had more armour protection. The two coast-defence battleships were heavily armoured, and there were three other less completely protected ironclads, although seven other ships had no armour whatever. In the Japanese fleet the only armoured vessels were the two old ironclads, belonging to an obsolete type, and the armour-belted "Chiyoda." The real fighting force of the fleet was made up of the seven new protected cruisers. Some of these had armour on the barbettes in which their long bow-guns were mounted, but their "protection" consisted in a deck plated with steel covering the "vitals" of the ship, boilers, engines, and magazines, all placed as low as possible in the hull. There was some further protection afforded by the coal-bunkers placed along the water-line amidships. The theory of the protected cruiser was that everything below the water-line was safeguarded by this armoured deck, and as the over-water portion of the ship was further divided by bulk-heads into numerous water-tight compartments, the danger of the ship being sunk was remote. The protected cruiser is no longer regarded as having a place in the main fighting-line. But the Japanese cruisers gave such good results in the Yalu battle that for a while an exaggerated value was attached to it.

But in one point, and the most important of all, the Japanese had an overwhelming advantage. The Chinese officers and men were mostly brave enough, but almost entirely unskilled. The only really efficient officers and engineers they had were a few Englishmen and Americans and two Germans. The Japanese, from Admiral Count Ito, who commanded, down to the youngest of the bluejackets, were not only brave with the inherited recklessness of death and suffering, which is characteristic of their race, but were also highly trained in every branch of their profession, first-rate sailors, excellent gunners. And the fleet had for years been exercised in manœuvres, so that the ships could work together as an organized whole. The spirit which animated it was that of "No surrender—Victory at any cost." It is a standing order of the Japanese navy that if a ship should strike her colours, the first duty of her consorts is not to try to recapture her, but to endeavour to sink her and her crew.

The Mandarin Ting, who commanded the Chinese fleet, was more of a soldier than a sailor, but he had some sea experience, and was a thoroughly brave man. As soon as war was declared he was anxious to go in search of his enemy. He urged upon the Pekin Government that the first step to be taken was to use the Chinese fleet to attack the Japanese transports, which were conveying troops to Korea. This would, of course, lead to a battle with the enemy's fleet, but Ting was quite confident that he would defeat the Japanese if he met them. In giving this advice the Chinese admiral was reasoning on correct principles, even if his confidence in his own fighting power was not justified by facts. To keep the fleet idle at Port Arthur or Wei-hai-wei would be to concede the command of the sea to Japan, without an effort to dispute it.

But the mandarins at Pekin would not accept their admiral's view. In the first place they were alarmed at the fact that in a minor naval engagement off the Korean coast, at the very outset of the conflict, the weak Chinese force in action had fared very badly. The quarrel in Korea had begun without a regular declaration of war. On the coast there were the Chinese cruiser, "Tsi-yuen," and a small gunboat, the "Kwang-yi." On 24 July the two ships had gone to sea to look for, and give their escort to, some transports that were expected with reinforcements from China. In the grey of the morning on the 25th they fell in with, and were attacked by, three of the swift protected cruisers of the Japanese fleet, the "Yoshino," "Akitsushima," and "Naniwa Kan." The fight was soon over. The gunboat was sunk, and the little cruiser was attacked at close quarters by the "Naniwa Kan," whose shells riddled her weak conning-tower, killing all within it. The "Tsing Yuen" fled, pursued by the "Naniwa," whose commander, by the way, was Captain Togo, famous afterwards as the victorious admiral of the Russo-Japanese War. The "Tsing Yuen" made good her escape, only because the chase brought the "Naniwa Kan" on the track of the transport "Kowshing," and Togo stopped to dispose of her by sending her to the bottom.

This incident made the Pekin Government nervous about the fighting qualities of their ships. And then they were afraid that if Ting went to sea with all his ships, the Japanese fleet would elude him, and appear with an expeditionary force at the mouth of the Pei-ho, capture the Taku forts, and land an army to march on Pekin. They therefore ordered Admiral Ting to collect his fleet at Port Arthur, and watch the sea-approach to the capital.

The Japanese were therefore able to land their troops in Korea without interruption, and soon overran the peninsula. When they were advancing to capture Ping-yang, the Chinese began to concentrate a second army to defend the crossing of the Yalu River, the entrance into Southern Manchuria. It was now evident even to the Pekin mandarins that the Japanese plans did not at this stage of the war include a raid on the Pei-ho and the Chinese capital, so Admiral Ting was at last allowed to go to sea, in order to protect the movement of transports along the western shores of the Korean Bay to the mouth of the Yalu.

On 14 September five large steamers crowded with troops left Taku under the convoy of six Chinese cruisers and four torpedo boats, bound for the mouth of the Yalu River. Next day, as they passed Talienwan Bay, near Port Arthur, they were joined by Ting with the rest of the fleet. On the second day they safely reached their destination, and the troops were disembarked. And early on the 17th Ting again put to sea with his fleet to return to Port Arthur.

He had expected to have to fight the Japanese on his outward voyage, and he knew that there was a still greater chance of meeting them on his way back down the bay. He had a few white officers with him. On board his flagship, the armour-clad "Ting-yuen" was a German artillery officer, Major von Hanneken. On the other battleship was Commander McGiffen, formerly of the United States navy, nominally second in command to the Chinese captain of the "Chen-yuen," but practically acting as her commander. On some of the other ships there were a few British-born engineer or gunnery officers, and some of the latter had been petty officers in the English navy. By the advice of these non-Chinese officers Ting had done something to remedy the defects of his fleet.

A good deal of woodwork had been cut away and thrown overboard, though far too much of it still remained, and on several ships there was a dangerous quantity of carved ornamental wood on the upper works, much of it all the more inflammable because it was gilded and lacquered in bright colours which it was the practice to clean with oiled rags. The thin steel roofs of barbettes, and the shields of many of the guns, had been removed, as the "Tsi-yuen's" experiences in the fight with the "Naniwa Kan" had shown that such light steel did not keep out the shells of the Japanese quick-firers, but served only to ensure their bursting with deadly effect. Sometimes a gun-shield had burst a shell, which if there had been no such attempt at protection would perhaps have passed harmlessly over the heads of the gunners. Round the barbettes of the ships sacks of coal were stacked as an emergency method of strengthening these defences. Of coal the fleet had an abundance, but it was woefully short of ammunition, and much of what was on board was old and defective. If Ting had had more professional knowledge and training, he would have been more anxious as to the probable result of a battle.

Where were Admiral Ito and the Japanese fleet? Early in August he had crossed the Yellow Sea with his cruiser squadron, and shown himself before Port Arthur and Wei-hai-Wei. He drew the fire of the seaward forts at long range, and replied with a few shots, but he made no attack. He was engaged only in a reconnaissance, and was quite satisfied when he ascertained that the Chinese ships were remaining in harbour. He then returned to the Korean side of the Yellow Sea, and till nearly the middle of September was employed in escorting the convoys of transports from Japan, and protecting the disembarkation of the reinforcements they were bringing to Korea.

On Friday, 14 September—the same day on which the Chinese convoy with the reinforcements for Manchuria left Taku—Ito had completed his work in connection with the transport of Japanese troops, having landed the last detachments at Chinampo in the estuary of the Ta-tung River. Higher up the river General Nodzu's army was attacking the Chinese walled town of Ping-yang. Ito sent his gunboats up the Ta-tung to co-operate with Nodzu, and leaving his torpedo boats at the river mouth, went to sea with his fleet. He steered for the mouth of the Yalu River, intending to reconnoitre the Chinese positions there, and obtain information as to the reported concentration of troops near the river mouth, but under the belief that the enemy's fleet was still at Port Arthur, Admiral Ting was just as ignorant of his enemy's position and movements. Early on the morning of Monday, 17 September, he had expended some ammunition in practice at floating targets off the mouth of the Yalu. The fleet had then anchored, and the men were given a rest while the cooks got dinner ready. This was about 11 a.m. A little later there was unexpected news, that interrupted the cooking. The look-outs at the mastheads of the anchored fleet reported that the smoke of many steamers was rising above the horizon far away to the south-westward. It was a bright sunny day, with a perfectly smooth sea, clear air, and a blue sky, and the look-out men could easily make out that the smoke rising above the skyline came from a long line of funnels. Admiral Ting had no doubt it was the Japanese fleet, and he gave orders to weigh anchor and clear for action.

Early that morning Admiral Ito had heard from coasting craft that the Chinese fleet was at sea, and one trader retailed to him a rumour that the fleet was anchored behind Hai-Yang island, where there was a sheltered roadstead. But on reaching Hai-Yang he found only a few fishing-boats lying behind the island. He continued his voyage towards the Yalu, now anticipating a meeting with Ting, unless the Chinese admiral had already run down the other coast of the bay, and so passed him at a distance during the previous night.

Ito's fleet was steaming in line ahead, and was organized in two squadrons. The van squadron was led by his second in command, Admiral Tsuboi, who had hoisted his flag on the fast cruiser "Yoshino." After her in succession came the cruisers "Takachico," "Akitsushima," and "Naniwa Kan." Then there was a considerable interval between the van squadron and the leading ship of the main squadron, the cruiser "Matsushima," flying Count Ito's flag. Next to her came the armoured cruiser "Chiyoda"; then the "Matsushima's" two sister ships, the cruisers "Ikitsushima" and "Hashidate." The four ships of the van squadron and the four leading ships of the main squadron represented the chief strength of Ito's fleet, his eight modern cruisers. After them came the two old ironclads "Hiyei" and "Fuso," the gunboat "Akagi," and the small armed merchant steamer "Saikio Maru." The long line of warships steaming swiftly through the sunlight must have looked more like a fleet arrayed for some festive occasion than squadrons prepared for imminent battle, for every ship was painted a brilliant white, with the gilded device of the chrysanthemum forming a broad golden shield on her bows, and the red-and-white sun flag of Japan flew from every masthead.

At half-past eleven, half an hour after the Chinese had perceived the approach of the Japanese fleet, the "Yoshino," which was leading the advancing line of the van squadron, signalled that there was a dense mass of black smoke on the horizon inshore. This was the smoke produced by Ting's furnaces, as his ships hurriedly stoked their fires to get full pressure on the boilers. Then the Chinese fleet was seen coming out and forming in line of battle.

Admiral Ting formed his ships in line abreast, that is side by side with every bow towards the enemy. In the centre were the two little battleships, with the armoured cruisers, "Lai-yuen" and "King-yuen," to right and left of them. On each flank of these four heavy ships there was a group of three unarmoured cruisers—the "Ching-yuen," "Chao-yung," and "Yang-wei"—on the right; and the "Chi-yuen," "Kwang-chia," and "Tsi-yuen," on the left. These were the ten ships on which he relied to bear the brunt of the fighting. Away to the left flank and rear of the line, and nearer the shore, was the small, armour-clad "Ping-yuen," the corvette "Kwang-ping," and four torpedo boats. The Chinese fleet was under easy steam. The ships were painted a dull black, but had a large amount of gilding and colour on their bows, upper works, and deck-houses, and they were all dressed with flags. The decks had been strewn with sand, to prevent accidents by men slipping, and flooded with water from the fire hose to minimize the danger of fire.