The Day’s Work
Many suppose that because the special war correspondents achieved so
little they had a comparatively easy life, pleasantly passed under
the Sun-flag in the beauteous isles of the Orient. This was not so
for those whose luck it was to be accredited to the Russian army in
Manchuria, and still less for those newsgatherers who hovered on the
frontier of the neutral territory.
There the day’s work was long, often arduous, and seldom satisfactory.
It had its dangers. Mr. Etzel, of the _Daily Telegraph_, the only
correspondent shot during this war, was of us, and I intend now to
describe the life we two led together at Yingkow, in the months of
March and April. We were not alone, from first to last more than
two score correspondents used Yingkow as temporary or permanent
headquarters.
If we had not been disturbed during the night we would be out early,
and from a glance at the main roads east and west ascertain whether
there had been any movement of troops during the hours of darkness. If
there were tracks, we followed up the clue after breakfast. We had also
to visit the hotels to see whether there were new arrivals from Port
Arthur or the north, as the Russian train usually arrived very early
in the morning, and the Chinese train left the station on the opposite
side of the river at seven o’clock, so it was sometimes possible for
a through passenger to travel from one station to the other without a
stay in Newchwang, and correspondents could not afford to allow one to
slip by unquestioned.
In the forenoon we rode out to the Russian settlement, to Niuchatun, to
the Russian fort on the south-west, or to their entrenchments further
out, near the salt-pans at the river mouth. Etzel was an excellent
scout. On several occasions I was out with him alone, tracking Russian
movements, reconnoitring their outposts, or observing what changes
they were about to make in the disposition of their military forces
around the town. The facility with which he got from point to point
without being observed was as excellent as the inimitable manner in
which he carried through the examination of the particular business
he had set himself to investigate. He had an acute perception of
military movements which might have an important bearing on the
plan of campaign, and foresight so remarkable that it seemed to me
he had a special faculty which enabled him to divine the intentions
of the Russian officers directing the troops and superintending the
construction of defensive works. Then, in scouting, he found the right
clues quickly and followed them with unerring accuracy and admirable
precision.
In the afternoon we usually tried to see people who were in a position
to have news, and when we saw them we worked to get the news. Between
four and five o’clock the couriers came in by the west gate, and they
had to be met personally or by a trustworthy Chinaman in our service.
Last of all we wrote our telegrams and took them to the office at the
Chinese railway station. This apparently simple matter was sometimes
the most difficult part of the day’s work. When the river was hard
frozen and the weather fair, we went on a _piza_, that is, a pair of
sledge runners connected by some rough boards upon which a few reeds
are fastened. The sledge is propelled by a Chinaman who stands with
each foot on one runner and propels the contrivance with a boat hook.
In this way, the two miles, in most favourable circumstances, might be
accomplished in fifteen minutes. Then there was only the discomfort,
the terrible cold and the incessant jolting over the rough ice to be
endured but when the ice was bad, when there were cracks and pools to
be avoided, and the probability of the ice breaking at any moment, then
the journey had its dangers as well as discomforts. It might require
forty minutes, or more, and as happened more than once to myself, the
rider might slip through a crack in the ice and have an unrequired
ducking. The risks were always increased when the crossing was made in
the darkness, as ours were.
By way of variety one might walk across the ice, or even ride over on
horseback, or send a messenger. But the messenger could always be held
up by a European, and the message be read before it was returned to
him. Another way, if we were in time, was to post our messages across
the river through the Imperial Chinese Post Office.
When the river broke, great masses of packed ice and large floes
floated up and down stream for weeks. The only possible way to cross
then was by boat; a strong sampan hauled and pushed through the loose
ice by three to half a dozen men--that done in the darkness was as
unpleasant as it was dangerous. It was very slow, often requiring
hours, and with tide and ice both against the boat almost impossible.
The cost of the ferry instead of being the usual few cents amounted to
dollars. Etzel on the night of March 27 had to pay seven dollars to be
ferried across with his message; I was the last correspondent to cross
the ice on a _piza_ and the first to be ferried over the river in a
boat, and the highest charge I had to pay was six dollars for a ferry
after dark.
With the despatch of the telegram our day’s work was over, and that
of the next began. There was the crossing of the river to be made
again, people to be interviewed, and when the tired correspondent got
to bed, he might be disturbed by the noise of passing artillery or
troops--movements we deemed it a part of our duty to watch--of rifle
fire, even the booming of big guns. One morning I was aroused at two
o’clock by a knocking at my door and the startling information that the
expected bombardment of Newchwang had at last commenced. I was out in
the dark, in the salt marshes, tumbling into mudholes and tiring myself
needlessly until daybreak. It was a false alarm. The Russians mistook
a pilot’s flare on the bar for the enemy, and fired so furiously that
they sunk a helpless Chinese junk with thirty-five hands, killed three
men and wounded seven on another, and succeeded in working the native
population into a state of panic.
By unflagging energy and unceasing vigilance we were able to keep
ourselves _au courant_ with local changes and passing events in our
immediate neighbourhood. This was insufficient. We wished to be
informed as to the progress of the war. Many rumours reached us of
the propinquity of the Japanese forces, and as the Russians would not
permit us to wander beyond the neighbouring villages we were forced to
rely upon native newsmongers.
Messrs. Bush Bros. had agents and correspondents throughout Southern
Manchuria, and such news as they received they generously placed at
the disposal of all newspaper representatives. Generally this news
was ahead of that which reached Newchwang by other means, and as
often as any it was correct. But it was insufficient in detail, and
too irregular in appearance to satisfy all needs of impatient news
correspondents. We determined to have our own men investigating, and
our own messengers. I do not know what arrangements Etzel made. My
relations were with two respectable business men in the town, both
Englishmen, and neither acquainted with what the other was doing in
the matter. Both had an intimate knowledge of Chinese methods, one
was the most proficient Anglo-Chinaman in the country, and they, if
any, knew where to get trustworthy Chinese and how to deal with them
advantageously. Both sent out men in different directions. These men
wrote back what they saw on their journey, and their letters were
posted to Newchwang or conveyed by messengers. They were written in
Chinese, and had to be translated on arrival.
Here are some extracts from the letters of Kongkwang-tsa, who left
Yingkow for the Yalu, on the 27th of the first moon: “I see four
Russian guns at Yuan-Pao mountain; I see many troops of Russians there;
I see guns at An-chu, and troops; and troops at mouth, at Chang-tien,
and 700 at Takushan, and 800 at Talung-kow. There was bobbery; the
merchants of Antung-Hsien district have been pleased that Magistrate
Kao has suppressed rioting. I see twenty li from Hsiu-yen, twenty
Russian carts, with men and material--there they put up a telegraph. I
go to----”
From another: “Near Fen shui huan I meet blacksmith; he tell me Russian
messenger pass his forge every day. I go Yalu, at Chala cheng; I see
all Russians cross river; I see Japanese spies, see Japanese troops.”
And this from another correspondent: “I see one or two Japanese
soldiers; Russians see many. Suddenly see many Japanese soldiers; look
again, but none there. Went ----; there Russian soldier cross Yalu
river, come back this side. He no wait. He go thirty in small sampan;
no can; boat lost; Russian man all lost. Russian man take big boat;
make him very full; big boat lost; only one Russian man come this side.
Russian man take another big boat, make too much full; Russian man all
drown. Russian man no can wait.”
In the hurried crossing of the Yalu after the battle of Pin-yang, more
than three hundred Russians were lost at this ferry.
The following are of later date (May 2): “The Russians have posted
everywhere placards explaining away the advance northwards of the
Japanese troops who crossed the Yalu, and give accounts of the
successes the Russians have gained in fighting the Japanese army
elsewhere, and saying that soon they will attack and drive back the
Japanese far from these places, for Russia is strong. The Chinese do
not believe these placards, because the Japanese are every day coming
farther and farther into the country.”
Then I received accounts of the landing of Japanese troops at Takushan;
and at Pitsewo, and acting in conjunction with the force landed at
Kinchow, on the other side of the peninsula, succeeded in cutting the
line, and isolating Port Arthur. Here the forces joined, captured a
train from Port Arthur; stopped another, but allowed it to proceed when
the Red Cross flag was shown, and tried ineffectually to stop it again
by rifle fire when they found they had been deceived, and that it was
the special train used by Admiral Alexeiev. It was known afterwards
that both H.I.H. the Grand Duke Boris and H.E. the Viceroy were in the
train, and narrowly escaped capture. The Japanese have never ceased
blaming themselves for their laxity in allowing this train to pass
them. We got news of the Japanese movements, of the forward rush of the
Takushan army after the battle of Puliantien, but it must be stated
that the cross marching of the Japanese between Takushan and Kinchow
completely baffled the Chinese reporters. They were marching towards
Tashichiao not Kaiping, and keeping to the east of the railway instead
of taking the shorter route to Newchwang.
This scheme of newsgetting worked excellently for some weeks. The
agents went right on to the Yalu, and fell back as the invasion of
Manchuria progressed, and they reported intelligently and frequently.
On the whole matters went well until the agents got shot, or were taken
prisoner, or wanted to come home, or were recalled.
In addition to all this, there were Chinese constantly arriving in
Newchwang from Port Arthur, Dalny, and other places where fighting
was going on, and these always had some news to sell--something which
if not worth telegraphing, was worth knowing. The American consulate
was a great centre for news and for newspaper men, both British and
American, but the British consulate was like a shooting man’s fox
coverts, always drawn blank. It was MacCullagh of the _New York Herald_
who first discovered a new variety of lady missionary from the north
who had a fund of entertaining conversation and plenty of interesting
information, so, quite outside of the usual official channels, we had
numerous sources of news and spent much time in collecting the best.
The newspaper correspondents themselves were, often without intending
it, the most frequent cause of my troubles. Only once did I call upon
the Russian administrator; it was a small matter of routine business he
had to adjust for me, and he volunteered the information incidentally
that in a few days he thought it would be his duty--he did not qualify
it with “unpleasant”--his duty, to order me out of Newchwang. As a
matter of fact I stopped long enough to see him turned out--by the
Japanese. I thought it advisable to keep quiet for a few days, for I
was not ready just then to pass out of the Russian lines.
At this critical juncture I had a disturbing message from Dr. Morrison:
“Greener, Yingkow.--Japanese Legation disbelieves Carter’s story and
proximity forces.” The Russian authorities inspected all our telegrams,
and for it to be known to them that what I sent was submitted to the
Japanese at Peking did not improve my position or make it easier for me
to extract news from Russians in authority.
The next disturbing incident was far more easily settled. One morning
an officer from H.M.S. _Espiègle_ came to me post haste to know what I
meant by a telegram in the _Times_ of February 17, then just received
in Newchwang. I had my horse saddled and rode up the river bank to the
gunboat’s dock, when the following was read to me:--
“YINGKAU, _February 16_.*
“The Civil Administrator of Newchwang with his family is
proceeding to Tientsin. He has been making every effort
to arrest the Russian soldiers guilty of offences against
foreigners, and has assured Mr. Miller, the United States
Consul, and Commanders Barton and Sawyer of the British sloop
_Espiègle_ and the American gunboat _Helena_ against whom
menacing demonstrations have been made, that full reparation
shall be made.”
“What of it?” I asked.
“There has been no menacing demonstration, therefore no reparation can
be made--that is all.”
“Not quite,” I answered. “If you will look you will see an asterisk
after the date, and at the bottom of the column you are informed that
it is a Reuter’s message. You have called the wrong man.”
It was too much to expect me to be answerable for what was sent to
the paper by the news agencies, but soon afterwards I was called to
book over a paragraph in a message sent from Peking on March 4, and
published in the _Times_ of March 7, as follows:--
“All the coal supply at Newchwang has been purchased by the
Russians, including 22,000 tons belonging to the chief British
firm. A contract was signed on the very eve of the war, when
war was assured. Delivery is not yet complete, and has been
taking place daily ever since the war began. The Russians speak
favourably of the assistance thus rendered at a critical time,
when coal was urgently needed for the Manchurian railway, by a
British firm, who, unless the port is blockaded, can presumably
render equally valuable service in the future by importing food
stuffs for the Russian troops.”
This is with reference to a matter which Dr. Morrison might have stated
differently. In the first place _all_ the coal stocks at Newchwang were
not then purchased: in April the late United States Marshal sold some
large parcels, and there were others. The 22,000 tons of Kaiping dust
formed a portion of a consignment from the Chinese Engineering and
Mining Company. It was in Newchwang, which was ice-bound. That coal,
and all other supplies in store, could have been commandeered by the
Russians after the war began under the martial law they proclaimed.
The Russian authorities would not buy the dust from the British firm
of Bush Bros., who sold it before the war to the Danish East-Asiatic
Company, a Copenhagen firm of shipowners and traders, from whom the
Russians acquired that portion which was being delivered when Dr.
Morrison was at Newchwang. The Russians may have spoken favourably of
the assistance thus rendered by a British firm--which was avowedly,
openly and consistently pro-Japanese throughout--but I never heard
them, though I did hear many abuse the firm very often. The Russian
authorities showed their appreciation by _not buying_ food stuffs
from Messrs. Bush, who had them at a time the Russians wanted them
badly, and Mr. McGlew, a member of the firm and brother-in-law of
its principal, was the only foreign resident the Russian authorities
requested to leave Newchwang. The firm had to dispense with his
services until the Japanese occupation of the treaty port had been
effected.
The war provoked correspondents into making mistakes, the most careful
and capable were at times at fault, and those who trusted to official
information probably more often than any. Only the agencies can reveal
how many times their distraught correspondents have telegraphed in such
manner as--“Kill dispatch, given officially but untrue.” “Suppress
after ---- last message, official now untalk.”
Obtaining an exact and truthful account of any occurrence even from
an eye-witness of the event is a matter of great difficulty, as Sir
Walter Raleigh experienced, but the difficulty is exceedingly great
with reference to all things connected with the war, as every informant
is more or less biassed in favour of one of the belligerents. Sift,
and probe, and examine, and compare as carefully as we might, we
were rarely quite satisfied that we had the real unvarnished plain
statement of fact. On the few occasions we did succeed we did not
always get credited even. I know that once I met a man of learning
and position, one of the best informed, most intelligent and highly
respected foreign residents in Vladivostok. He was on his way from
that town to communicate something of importance to his Legation at
Peking. We had long been acquainted, and although, as he explained,
he could not give me all the information he had about Vladivostok yet
he would give me something of general interest respecting the recent
Japanese bombardment of that port, and of the extent of the damages.
Part of that information I cabled home at once--to be informed curtly
from Peking, “You are not justified in wasting _Times’_ money upon wild
reports reaching you from Vladivostok.”
The newspaper men had no opportunities for lotus eating in the
wilderness of Newchwang, but some of them had not enough of danger
there to satisfy them and must needs seek extra risks by attempting
extraordinary adventures. There was Colonel Emerson, an American, who
with insufficient papers pushed on to the Russian headquarters at
Liaoyang, and there got his marching orders to proceed home by way
of Moscow and report himself to the authorities at Mukden, Harbin
and other places _en route_. He went as far as Mukden, did not report
himself, but got carried through the Russian lines to Hsinmintun by
one of the Chinamen in the employ of Bush Brothers, a man who has
rendered other correspondents signal service but whose identity must
not be revealed as long as any are liable to need his assistance. The
Russians, missing Emerson, concluded that he must have tried to escape
and consequently must be dead, for nobody _could_ pass out of the
Russian lines. So his death was reported in the _Harbinski Viedomosti_,
and the authorities telegraphed in Emerson’s name for his effects to
be forwarded to Mukden. As it happened, Emerson, who had not sent the
telegram, was back again in Newchwang at the time.
There was another American who determined to go from Newchwang to Port
Arthur in a junk, and told so many people about it that the junk was
stopped; and there was Etzel, who did get away, but only to be shot
before he was out of Chinese waters. That disastrous termination put an
end to similar enterprises, but only for a time.
In Newchwang we had General Kondoratovich, the youngest man of his
rank in the army. The Commandant of our division was a good type of
officer, intrepid, resourceful, open-hearted and open-handed; the
correspondents just made him tired, but he was always courteous to
them. He was a free liver, absolutely disregardful of public opinion
and capable of minding his own affairs and of guarding Russian
interests.
Newchwang was also visited by General Linevich, the leader of the
Russian expedition to Peking; by the Commander-in-Chief General
Kuropatkin, who reviewed the local troops numbering about 6,000, and
decided that the port must be evacuated. Newchwang was also visited
by the Grand Duke Boris, who viewed its defences, inspected the port,
and after being bored by the authorities as a matter of duty was fêted
by them as a token of their esteem, and enjoyed himself in his usual
manner.
On Palm Sunday, March 27, the authorities suddenly announced that the
treaty port of Newchwang was under martial law. All residents must
remain within the gates of the town; the Russian settlement, Niuchatun,
and other villages in the suburbs were out of bounds, and not to be
visited without special permission. The Chinese railway station in
neutral territory could be visited between sunrise and sunset; during
the hours of darkness all river traffic was prohibited. The Chinese,
who, until that day, if they were found after dark without carrying a
lantern were fined, were fined now if they had a lantern, or if the
least glimmer of light showed through their doors, windows, or cracks
in the walls of their compound.
All the foreign consuls with the exception of the British acquiesced
in the order. The British consul would not do so without instructions
of the British Minister at Peking to whom he had referred the matter,
and who, naturally, never gave instructions. It was a mere verbal
quibble, all British subjects were advised to accept the situation;
the protection of the consuls could indeed be claimed, but as they
had relinquished their power, their consulates were no longer legal
sanctuaries for their own nationals.
The work of correspondents was made more difficult; and they were
regarded with increased suspicion by the authorities. Colonel Telshin
and Lt.-Col. Dabovsky were appointed censors, and the Chinese Imperial
Railway Telegraph offices were placed in charge of Mr. Pancheka, who
had with him a commissioned officer and a squad of Cossacks.
It cannot be said that the regulations were severe, or that they
pressed heavily upon the foreign residents. As with all Russian
ordinances there was laxity in enforcing the provisions of the
proclamation. The correspondents found certain liberties curtailed. We
certainly did ride out without permits to Russia-town, the flats by
the forts, and to different villages. Sometimes we were stopped by a
sentinel, but more often than not passed unchallenged. Only once, when
I was re-entering by the south gate from a ride to the fort, did the
guard go so far as to stop me by seizing my bridle. I urged the horse
forward, and the bold man went with her a short way, then he and his
rifle fell to the earth. I went on, expecting a shot to be fired after
me, but hearing only the loud laughter of the guards at their comrade’s
discomfiture.
The censorship was somewhat of a nuisance. Etzel submitted a test
message which the censor obligingly amended: the revised copy was
presented and passed, but it was not sent, for the message which went
was of quite different import and uncensored. There were also ways of
getting a censor’s stamp and signature on a blank form, or by writing
in or altering the censored message, news of a somewhat different
character could be substituted. But there were so many ways of getting
news out without the authorities knowing of it, that troubling the
censor was quite unnecessary, and done only in order to keep on good
terms with the officials.
The order against crossing the river was the most irksome restriction.
The bank was patrolled, and the sentinels fired at whatever they saw
moving, and inquired afterwards. When there was good cause to cross
over, a permit could be obtained, and the passenger took the risk;
or even a ferry could be obtained in one of the official launches,
the privileged boats, which were not fired upon. There were no steam
launches or tug-boats in private hands.
We did not often ask for special permits from the authorities, because
we did not care to be constantly worrying them, and because if the
official happened to be asleep, or obfuscated, there were delays,
and the attendants rather expected that something unusual would be
attempted, and the guards thus made unusually alert. We went up the
river beyond the guard boat, and down it below the fort; sometimes I
was challenged, generally not, and the restrictions were only a subject
to grumble at openly, and ignore in secret. By taking my horse across
the river and working the opposite bank I was never subjected to any
annoyance or question, and I crossed beyond the prescribed limits
whenever I wished. Still, it was not easy to get the Chinese boatmen to
contravene the regulations. Once when it was necessary for me to cross
from Liao-tse to the town in the night, I had to go to the village
opium joint, seize a sampan man, drag him to the water-edge, put him
in the sampan and push it off into the stream myself, then set him to
scull the boat across. Of course he grumbled, and worked hard and in
mortal fear, but no shot was fired that time. At others we were shot
at, and over, but luckily not fired upon.
Finding by experience that when I answered the sentinel’s challenge
with the usual pass-word “Svoi” (literally, “self-same” = friend)
it invariably led to further questioning and vexatious delay whilst
explaining my business, I asked a Russian official how I could avoid
the annoyance.
“Oh, say ‘K’chortu’ (to the devil), I always do.” That never failed me.
We had our little worries day by day. Whenever we needed roubles, they
were at a big premium in Newchwang, when we wanted Mexican dollars
roubles were at a discount, and as Mexicans were not forthcoming we
were loaded up with Pei-yang coins, Kirin currency and small money,
whilst the fiction of the Haikwan tael was rammed down our throats,
and was as hard to swallow as stories of Russian successes on the
field of battle. An American journalist got no war news worth a cent,
but of his experiences he made an article on the “financial pirates
of the east,” which justified the expense his paper incurred by his
expedition. One correspondent thought it was time to learn Russian, and
having got the one word “Good-day” at the end of his tongue, he tried
it upon the first sentry who challenged him. There followed a one-sided
conversation, the sentry becoming choleric and the correspondent
answering “Good-day” calmly to every phrase the other uttered. Another
bought a pair of English riding boots across the river and carried
them home. Wrapping-up paper was not procurable, and the correspondent
with his boots attracted the attention of the police. As he was unable
to explain matters, either in Chinese or Russian, he had difficulty
in continuing his journey homeward. If the police had known how many
pairs of riding boots that correspondent had in his room, they would
undoubtedly have considered themselves justified in detaining him
indefinitely.
There was one correspondent, representing a journal of world-wide
renown, who whenever he got into a difficulty never gave his name,
but always that of his paper. Riding along the native bund one day,
his pony seized some carrots from the stall of a Chinese market man
and munched them. The correspondent tendered some money, but he was
mobbed by the Chinese and Russians, and the police wanted some other
explanation than _Weekly Post_, which he kept on repeating. As he told
the story: “Sure, Greener, there’s nae body heerd o’ the _Weekly Post_
in these parts, and I made bould to mintion your peeper,--wi’ nae’
bitter effect. Then I sae ain o’ those enamelled signs o’ the _Daily
Telegraph’s_; it’s just bent round a forge fire. An’ I went to’t, and
tapped it with me whip, and signed wi’ my hands that I was it. But they
wouldna’ understand! I think maybe they thought I wanted the sign just
as my pony wanted the carrots, an’ I doant nae what might have happened
me had na’ one o’ the coostoms men passed by and exthricated me. Sich
fules! What is’t you say for War Correspondent? Eh? Say it again.”
Busy bodies amongst the Russian officials hauled down the American flag
from the correspondents’ mess, and wished to remove the British ensign
from their compound. They had to be made re-hoist one and allow both
to remain. Then there were foreign residents who thought Newchwang the
centre of the universe, and believed that through the correspondents
the people of the British Empire could be made to take a real interest
in the protection of their private property in Newchwang. And in this
wise were we kept occupied, and whilst seemingly devoted to these
things, or apparently idling, and waiting, and holding ourselves at the
pleasure of our Russian authorities, we were forced to make time in
which to do our real work unknown and unobserved.