Part 5

It was now past ten o'clock, and in the distance the heights above Port Arthur appeared a black ridge against the faintly moonlit sky, throwing deep shadows on the waters of the harbour. Between the _Mikasa_ and the roadstead several small black spots could be seen dotting the surface of the sea. The four torpedo-boats crept gradually closer; they came unsuspected upon the outermost vessel of the Russian fleet. Suddenly the sounds of three muffled explosions, at intervals of a few seconds, vibrated through the air. Bob held his breath; this was the beginning of things: what had happened? In a moment, from the far distance, came the rattle of machine-guns, followed by the deeper boom of quick-firers, growing in volume until it seemed as if the whole armament of the Russian fleet was engaged. On board the _Mikasa_ there was the clang of a bell. The vessel slowed down, then stopped; the other battle-ships followed her example; and as search-lights flashed from the Russian vessels and the forts, cutting brilliant white cones through the lesser radiance of the moon, Bob caught a glimpse for the fraction of a second of the low hull of a Japanese torpedo-boat speeding forward to discharge its deadly missile. Hard by was the vast bulk of a cruiser, and stretched in a long line in the roads lay a dozen other war-ships of varying sizes, from the huge _Petropavlovsk_, instantly recognizable by her monstrous form, to the few Russian torpedo-boats which alone seemed to be alert.

After a time the firing almost ceased; but the flashlights continued to make wild gyrations, and every now and then there was a renewed rattle of machine-guns from the Russian ships. Not a shot was fired from the Japanese fleet. In advance of the battle-ships the cruisers had steamed forward to support the torpedo-boats; but the general bombardment which Bob expected had not begun.

He was beginning to think that all was over, and wondering what had actually taken place, when a dull explosion broke the silence, followed by two other shocks. Immediately the Russian search-lights swept round towards the harbour, and the forms of the vessels were silhouetted against the illumination.

"They have got in behind them--under the shadow of the hills," said Yamaguchi in Bob's ear. The little Japanese was panting with excitement. "Caught napping, if ever enemy was! You see? They expected another attack from the open. Our boats have got between them and the harbour; if only it were morning light!"

It was as Yamaguchi said. Buried in the dense blackness cast by the frowning heights above the harbour, the Japanese torpedo flotilla had stealthily crept to the rear of the vessels lying outside. It was a stroke cunningly planned and boldly executed. On board the _Mikasa_ men and officers waited eagerly to learn the result. They had not a doubt of its success. At length Admiral Togo received a wireless message from the admiral of the advanced squadron announcing that four Russian vessels had been struck by torpedoes, and as the news was circulated through the ship, the manner in which it was received impressed Bob with a sense of the confidence, and at the same time the self-restraint, of these allies of Britain. There was no excessive elation; not a cheer was raised; every man seemed to regard the event as inevitable. The fleet at once wheeled round and ran out to sea, so as to be at dawn out of range of the Russian batteries.

The sun rose very red over Korea; the south wind blew steadily, topping the swelling sea with snowy crests. On the far horizon could be descried three Japanese cruisers, and the lower hulls of several destroyers, stationed like watch-dogs on the skirts of the Russian fleet. Soon after eight the cruisers were seen to be approaching, and behind them appeared the funnels of several Russian vessels in chase. Admiral Togo immediately signalled his fleet to stand in to the support of the cruisers, and the crew of the _Mikasa_ braced themselves in eagerness for the expected fray. A sigh of disappointment broke from them as they saw the Russians almost at once retire towards Port Arthur, and anchor under the protection of the batteries on the heights. Surely the enemy, whose every word and action hitherto had indicated supreme contempt of their opponent, would not lamely accept the previous night's attack without attempting a counterstroke. But it was not known on the _Mikasa_ that Admiral Alexieff had devotedly informed his majesty the Tsar that two of his battle-ships, the _Retvisan_ and the _Tsarevitch_, and the cruiser _Pallada_, had been so seriously damaged by the Japanese torpedoes that they now lay helpless in the channel, where in all probability they would remain ingloriously out of action for some time to come.

Bob wondered why the Russians seemed disinclined to run out and risk a fair and square fight in the open. Admiral Togo was not the man to wait for an invitation. Between ten and eleven the order to steam ahead was given, the fighting flag was hoisted, and the _Mikasa_, her collision mats on, led the way.

All hands were piped to dinner. Profiting by the experience gained when he commanded the _Naniwa_ in the Chinese war, Admiral Togo wisely resolved to give his crew a good square meal before the action began. Bob went forward among the men, interested to see them dispose of their strange mixture of Japanese and European food, and to observe their cheerful demeanour. While he was with them a summons reached him to go to the gunnery officer on the bridge. He found that some slight adjustment was needed for the delicate mechanism of the range-finder, which occupied him but a few minutes. He remained by the officer's side, and looked eagerly through his powerful glasses in the direction of Port Arthur, which presently came into view, a long bent line on the horizon. The gunnery officer pointed out to him the entrance to the harbour, between a range of bluffs on the east and a low-lying peninsula running almost due north and south. He learnt the locality of the Huang-chin-shan fort and the Lao-mu-chu battery on the bluffs, and the approximate position of a series of fortifications on the island, commanding the entrance to the channel and the roadstead beyond.

Then, looking through the eye-pieces of the range-finder, he saw a line of Russian war-ships extended outside the harbour. The scale indicated that they were at least six miles distant. There were five battle-ships, six cruisers, a gun-boat, and seventeen smaller craft--destroyers and torpedo-boats. The mosquito flotilla was grouped close to the entrance of the navigable channel. Just beyond them Bob descried the funnels of three large vessels apparently aground. These were the victims of the night's operations--the vessels whose unhappy plight was soon to result in the removal of Admiral Stark from the command of the fleet his laxity had jeopardized.

It was a fine sunny day, there was a gentle swell on the surface of the sea, and the _Mikasa_, steaming eighteen knots, drew rapidly nearer to the great fortress. Bob, looking steadily through his glass, singled out the flagship, the _Peresviet_, on which he expected the _Mikasa's_ attack would be directed. The gunnery officer's eyes were now riveted to the range-finder. At length, whispering "Three miles and a half" in Bob's ear, he touched an electric apparatus at his side. The clang of bells was soon afterwards heard, signal-flags were run up at the vessel's fore, and Bob distinguished a curious clinking sound from an invisible point below him.

"Twelve-inch breech swung open," said the gunnery officer quietly. "Keep your eye on the _Peresviet_."

Almost immediately afterwards there came to Bob's ears a strange hoarse cough; the vessel seemed to wince. A few seconds of suspense, then Bob saw a small puff of smoke beneath the bows of the _Peresviet_: a column of water rose high into the air, and as the wind separated its particles into spray, it appeared as if a shower of many-coloured glass were falling over the deck of the Russian vessel.

"Beautiful shot!" said the gunnery officer. "We must alter the range."

Before a second shot could be fired from the _Mikasa_, however, one of her consorts had followed her example, and Bob saw a patch of dirty smoke on one of the bluffs near the Lao-mu-chu battery.

"Hasn't got the range yet," said the gunnery officer. "Now for ours."

Again the coughing sound, again the staggering recoil, and the Shimose shell burst on the armour plating of the _Peresviet_, which was at once obscured by a cloud of dense black smoke. The bombardment had begun.

Only a few seconds after the _Mikasa's_ second shot, Bob felt the air vibrate, and the sea around the vessel was churned white by shells fired from the Russian ships and the batteries on shore. Now also the other vessels of the Japanese fleet joined in the fray, manoeuvring with beautiful precision so as to present moving targets to the Russian gunners and baffle their aim. The din all around was appalling; guns of all sizes and species were making fierce practice against the enemy; Maxims rattling, quick-firers shrieking and wailing. A column of black smoke rose from the deck of the _Peresviet_, showing that she had been hit near the base of her forward funnel. Then, as the eager sailors learnt the success of the shot, Bob heard the first cheer of the day. Immediately afterwards a projectile whistled over his head, exploded in the air beyond the vessel, and threw a rain of iron into the sea, the splinters falling like stones cast by some giant's hand.

"Better go down out of harm's way, sir," said the Japanese officer.

Bob went down, not so much to be out of harm's way as to see the gunners at their work. He looked in at one of the box-batteries. The gun crew of six men were busy with the shells that came up from the magazines on the ammunition hoists; one was placed in the breech, behind his bullet-proof shield the gun-captain laid his vast weapon, the men flung themselves on their faces, and the shot sped away on its terrible mission. Then the breech was swung open, another shell was heaved into position, the sight was taken, and the vessel winced as the huge projectile flew on its way.

Hitherto the aim of the Russian gunners had been far from accurate; indeed, all through the fight their shells did little damage, telling only too clearly of insufficient practice at moving targets. But it was different with the gunners in the forts. As they got the range, shells hurtled around the _Mikasa_; and Admiral Togo at once signalled to the _Hatsuse_ and the _Asahi_ to turn their attention to the fort, and the concentrated fire of the three vessels was brought to bear upon it. So dense was the smoke now that Bob could not distinguish the effects of the shots. Indeed, he was almost dazed by the noise around him--the clang of bells, the crash of the guns, the din of the working engines. All the time the captain stood on the conning-tower calm and unmoved, telephoning his orders to the captains of the guns as though it was a case of target practice instead of deadly war.

Bob had seen nothing of Yamaguchi since early morning, and he wondered how the gallant little lieutenant was faring. So few shots from the Russians had actually struck the _Mikasa_ that Bob had ceased to fear anything for his personal safety. He knew that Yamaguchi was captain of the crew of a gun in one of the starboard batteries, and stepping over a coil of hose placed in readiness for extinguishing any fire that might break out, he made his way along the deck to find his friend.

There he was, peering through his glass to watch the effect of the last shot from his gun. Bob stood unnoticed behind. A huge projectile had just come up on the hoist, and two men were steering it to its place above the breech. Suddenly, somewhere above his head, there was a whistle, a hiss, a sharp ringing noise, then a terrible crash, a blinding light, and volumes of yellow suffocating smoke. A shell had burst on the armour casing near the muzzle of the gun. Bob was flung heavily against the breech-block, which had been swung open to receive the shell. He was half stunned; there was a strange ringing in his ears; he gasped for breath, felt that he was choking, and believed that in a few moments he must lose consciousness. But it was not in his nature to give in without a struggle. Collecting himself with a desperate effort, he managed to grope his way, half-staggering, half-crawling, out of the battery, away from the terrible fumes that still filled the confined space, hanging a thick yellow mist over the guns and settling down like a blanket upon the deck. Away from the noisome stench he quickly recovered so far as to be able to think again. What, he instantly asked himself, had become of the gun's crew?--what had become of Yamaguchi? Men were now hurrying up from all parts of the ship, but before they could enter the battery Bob was ahead of them, peering through the smoke for signs of the luckless gunners. The mist eddied, caught by a gust of wind, and through a break he saw, prone on the deck, two of the gallant crew shattered beyond recognition. And there--yes, a little to the left of them, stretched on his face, to all appearances lifeless--there lay his friend Yamaguchi. One bound and he was at the lieutenant's side. He stooped to lift him, and though he husbanded his breath the deadly fumes lying low over the deck made him gasp and turn sick. He felt that his strength was again slipping from him, but exerting all the will-power of which he was capable he raised the inert body, stumbled with it across the battery, and fell with his burden into the willing arms of the sailors who were crowding to the rescue.

At the same moment there was a sudden cessation of the din. Admiral Togo had signalled the fleet to cease fire; the vessels wheeled round, and were soon running full steam ahead into the open sea. But signals, commands, movements, all escaped Bob Fawcett. Overcome by the deadly fumes from the exploded shell, he lay on the deck beside Yamaguchi, unconscious, ignorant that the first bombardment of Port Arthur was over.

*CHAPTER VI*

*Helping-to-Decide*

A Torpedo-destroyer--Sea Legs--At Chemulpo--A Recognition--Stopping a Runaway--Mystification

For nearly a week after his adventure in the box-battery Bob was laid up. The sickening fumes had upset his system, and the ship's doctor insisted on his remaining in his bunk until he was thoroughly recovered. His first question on regaining consciousness had been for Yamaguchi, and he was rejoiced to hear that the lieutenant, though slightly wounded by a splinter from the shell, had been rescued from the poison-filled battery just in time.

"He owes his life to your plucky action," said Captain Igichi warmly, when he visited him the day after the bombardment. "His wound alone would not have been serious, but another minute in the battery would have done for him."

Bob made light of the matter, and was embarrassed to find that he was regarded with even more warmth of friendliness than before. The Japanese officers did not overwhelm him with praise, courage was too much a matter of course with them for that; but though they said little, Bob felt that they now looked on him as one who had proved his right to their comradeship, and he knew that to a Japanese this meant a great deal.

He was no sooner fit for duty again than he was transferred to the _Mikasa's_ sister ship the _Hatsuse_, whose range-finder was urgently needing attention. The standard on which the tube containing the telescope rested had been broken by the fragment of a shell, though fortunately the mechanism itself had been but slightly damaged. With the aid of the ship's clever artificers Bob was able to repair the injury in a very short time.

He remained on the _Hatsuse_ for more than a fortnight, during which he witnessed the first plucky dash of the Japanese torpedo-destroyers on Port Arthur, the attempt by five stone-laden steamers to block the channel, and the second bombardment, in which the Japanese vessels received no damage. Then one morning he was unexpectedly transferred to a torpedo-destroyer which had been ordered to Chemulpo. He was there to place himself under the orders of Admiral Uriu, if that officer were still at the port.

There was a considerable swell on, but it was a calm, bright, cold day when Bob left the monster battle-ship, which scarcely felt the motion of the waves, for the tiny _Kasumi_, rolling and pitching beneath. A boat was lowered from the _Hatsuse_, and but for his experience in yachting on the lower reaches of the Clyde Bob might have had some qualms as to how he was to mount the rope-ladder let down over the side of the _Kasumi_. Though he failed to make the ascent with the nimbleness of a deep-sea pilot, he was on his mettle, and did not disgrace himself in the eyes of the crews of the _Hatsuse_ and _Kasumi_, critically watching him from their respective vessels.

On reaching the deck of the destroyer he was as much surprised as pleased to meet Yamaguchi. He knew that the sub-lieutenant on his recovery had been promoted and appointed to a torpedo vessel, but until this moment he had been unaware to which. Their meeting was very cordial; Yamaguchi looked on Bob as his preserver, and Bob on his part was delighted to find that he was to make the passage to Chemulpo in company with one whom he already regarded as a friend.

Besides Yamaguchi, the officers on board were two sub-lieutenants, a doctor, and an engineer.

"We are fifty-five all told," added Yamaguchi, after introducing their new mess-mate.

"Where do you stow them all?" asked Bob in surprise.

"Come and see."

The lieutenant showed him first his own cabin, in the after part of the vessel--a room about ten feet square by seven high, with about as much accommodation as a small bathing-machine. Next to it was the ward-room, a trifle larger in area, in which Yamaguchi proposed that Bob should make his sleeping quarters on a small settee.

"It's half a mile too short for you," he said with a smile.

"I can lengthen it, or double myself up," replied Bob, who was indeed more than satisfied with his quarters when he saw the space allotted to the officers--four tiny cabins, each of which could have stood comfortably on an ordinary four-poster bedstead. Amidships were the engine-room and stoke-holds, shimmering with a white light from the furnaces, so intense that the stokers had to wear coloured glass goggles to preserve their eyes from blindness. The stokers, strong of arm and steady of nerve, looked like small demons from the Inferno as they kept cheerful watch on the gauges, cooped up as they were within the length of a man's body from the blazing mouths.

On the fo'c'sle forward were the conning-tower and the captain's bridge, with the _Kasumi's_ single heavy gun--a twelve-pounder. Beneath, in a compartment about half as long again as a full-sized billiard-table, was the bed- and sitting-room of the crew; three rows of hammocks were slung along each side, one beneath another. In a heavy sea the whole deck, in spite of the steel breastwork on each side of the conning-tower was liable to be swept with water from end to end. Bob was not squeamish, but he shuddered as he imagined the conditions under which the crew spent their watch below. It was a lucky thing, he thought, that the Japanese require even less than the limited space indispensable to the British Jack-tar.

The _Kasumi_ was rolling and pitching so inconsiderately when Bob boarded her, that in making his way along the deck in Yamaguchi's wake he had to cling to every available means of support. And yet the swell had only been sufficient to give a pleasant, slow, rocking movement to the _Hatsuse_ he had just left. But it was not until the gallant craft began to drive her nose at speed into a head sea that Bob began to realize what life on a torpedo-destroyer really was. There was perhaps a little less roll, but the pitching was a revelation of what a boat can suffer without breaking her back. Bob clung to a stanchion, expecting every moment that the huge mass of water breaking over the fore-bridge and flooding the deck amidships would rend the vessel asunder. It seemed impossible that the hull, of merely egg-shell thickness, could survive the strain. The low bow slugged into a monstrous bank of green water. "Now she's done for!" thought Bob. But a moment later she was balanced giddily on the crest of the wave, and began to switchback into the abyss beneath. All the time the mighty heart of the vessel was throbbing strenuously; Bob caught himself counting the pulse with a kind of anxiety lest the engines should prove unequal to their task.

"How do you like this?" said Yamaguchi in Bob's ear.

"Pretty well; it's rather be-wild--"

He was choked by a shower of spray, which left him gasping.

"You'll soon get used to it," said Yamaguchi with a smile.

It was some hours, however, before Bob was sufficiently accustomed to the _Kasumi's_ eccentricities to be able to move about with any freedom. He found meal-time in the little ward-room particularly trying. The food was served out in tins; the officers sat at the table with feet planted firmly on the floor, and managed to gulp their soup between the rolls of the vessel. But Bob was not sufficiently practised to time his movements properly. He would raise the tin to his lips, only to find that he opened his mouth on empty air, or that the soup made a premature sally and covered a considerable part of his face and clothes, a mere starvation portion entering at the proper gate.

There was an even more unpleasant experience in store for him when he turned in for the night. Do what he could he was unable to avoid being tossed off the settee, rolled under the table, and brought up with a jolt at the opposite side of the room. The most ingeniously-contrived breastwork of cushions proved of no avail; it might survive a roll and a pitch separately, but when the motions were combined it was incapable of the complicated resistance necessary, and Bob, just dropping off to sleep, found himself sprawling among his bastions and outworks beneath the table.

"Hang it!" he growled, groping upwards after one of these mishaps; "better stay where I'm chucked!"

He pulled his coverlets off, and making a bed beneath the settee and one leg of the table, managed to reduce the area of his gyrations by clutching the table leg whenever his equilibrium was in jeopardy.

It was a still, fair morning when, on awaking from his troubled sleep and going on deck, he saw before him the city of Chemulpo rising from the sea-front up a steep snow-clad hill. It looked very picturesque in the sunlight. The quay was crowded with Koreans in their strange black mitre-shaped caps and long tasselled coats; coolies trudging along under burdens pendent to yokes of forked sticks bound to their shoulders; greatcoated Japanese soldiers, just landed from the transports in the harbour, moving with a brisk purposeful alacrity. Brawny Korean boatmen were propelling heavy-laden sampans from the transports to the quay; children in blue padded garments were running about, watching everything with wide curious eyes, and getting in everybody's way.