ON BOARD THE TORPEDO-BOAT--BREAKING OF THE BOOM--CAPTURE OF
WEI-HAI-WEI--CONCLUSION
My first impressions regarding a torpedo-boat were, firstly, that the
deck rests dangerously near the water; and secondly, that the craft
itself is unsafe--at least, unsteady. Then the vessel,--or "ship," as
I believe it is called,--is, if cabined, certainly "cribbed and
confined." There is not much space to live in; perhaps the sailors who
man her are not expected to live--much. Where they usually sleep,
unless in the coal-bunkers or in the engine-room, I do not exactly
know. They did not sleep at all while I was on board, and I understand
that they never change nor wash (or "hardly ever"), under service
conditions. So far as my rather limited experience goes, existence on
board this ship is by no means enjoyable, save when in harbour, and
then it is useless. When at sea in roughish weather, and on service
particularly, the "pleasure" must be deadly-lively.
The torpedo-boat is about one hundred and twenty-five feet long, and
perhaps twelve feet at beam. There are larger craft than this, I
think, but these dimensions will suffice for the usual limits. The
torpedoes are fixed from the tubes, which, in my "ship," extended one
on each bow and astern. There is a steering-tower, or "conning-tower,"
fore and aft, and very small space for living in. There are no
bulwarks to prevent one sliding away into the sea in a calm, only a
rail with stanchions, upon which a wire rope is stretched as a
protection. But in bad weather the sea does not wait for the sailor,
it invades him, and washes everything overboard which may be loose,
carrying the men off if they do not go below or lash themselves. The
rolling is absolutely fearful, and I am informed that when the officers
eat they must feed each other like infants, one holding the cup, or
plate, while the other drinks, or eats, from it. All the services are
tinware, and the food is also tinned, and water is plentiful inside and
out, and leaks.
To this kind of experience I was quite new, and the haggard spectre of
_mal-de-mer_ presented itself all the time. How the sailors usually
manage I do not know; they must suffer, I imagine, at sea. But a dozen
sick men in that boat! Well--curtain!
* * * * *
February the 3rd was the most anxious night I had hitherto passed. I
was assisted on board, and I think Tomi introduced me to the officers
as a British newspaper correspondent. At anyrate, I was politely
received, fed, and entertained so far as possible, but the
accommodation was decidedly very limited--much more than the welcome.
I managed to understand that we would not actually attack. The idea
was to make the breach sufficient to admit other boats next time; so,
after all, we should not run any fearful risk, I fancied. But I did
not know then that we were to go inside the boom,--into the
harbour,--as I had little opportunity to talk, even had I been
acquainted with the Japanese tongue, I made only mental observations--I
was afraid of making mistakes in my language again.
The day died; the moon rose and disappeared; then came the turn of "No.
6." When blackness fell upon the water--a darkness in which the boat
was almost buried--the engines began to beat silently, the screws
revolved almost noiselessly, and we skimmed away towards the places
already determined upon. The men lay close, only the helmsman, the
officer himself, was visible. I lay by him, by permission, and two men
watched forward. This was no torpedo attack, it was a survey.
An hour passed. There was no spot at which an entry could be made on
the west side, and a long search only revealed a small space between
the rocks on the eastern side and that end of the enormous boom which
stood up threatening us in the dark. This barrier seemed bigger than I
had ever imagined, and its mass seemed, from our small craft, so
enormous, that I almost despaired. Dynamite could not injure it from
outside. Perhaps gun-cotton or powder would, if applied inside the
harbour where the resistance was less.
At last! Searching closely, the boat found the spot where the barrier
ceased,--a very small passage, through which it seemed almost
impossible to drive the boat in safety. But the hands which held the
helm were incapable of nervousness. No tremor shook those iron muscles
as the boat's head was turned rock-wise. It was sink or swim then--a
torpedo in the path would end it for us. But unheeding, or rather
disdaining, the danger, the skipper turned the boat's head to the small
space in the sea.
The rocks grumbled at us as we slowly and deftly passed. The sullen
murmurs of the waves were supplemented by the swishing of the revolving
screws, or drowned perhaps by the former. Still the boat skimmed on,
and then almost noiselessly brought up in the harbour, within the range
of the Chinese torpedo-squadron, which speedily perceived the intruder.
The situation was peculiar. We were in hostile waters; the ships and
torpedo-boats, and even the forts, quickly woke up. Shells came
whizzing in our direction. We could see them streaking the blackness,
like meteors, then flying shrieking over our heads, and plunging or
bursting in the sea beyond the boom, or within it. But not one touched
the Japanese boat, which lay dark and silent by the boom, though had an
electric searchlight been used by some approaching vessel we must have
been discovered at once.
The cold was intense as the devoted vessel cracked the ice which lay on
the agitated surface of the harbour, but we did not mind it. The sound
of the ice, one imagined, must have announced our whereabouts to the
Chinese, but as we moved swiftly the aim was not accurate, and we lay
alongside the barrier, silently, to prepare for the charge which the
master had determined to explode against it.
The mine was laid with great difficulty, not only because of the
darkness and the penetrating cold, but because of the unsteadiness of
the little craft, which surged against the boom, and crackled loudly at
every concussion. At length the job was complete, the charge was laid,
the battery by which it was intended to explode the powder was
prepared, the wire already extended.
Now the critical moment approached. A few directions, a few words of
warning, a caution to the engineers, an order to the steersman, then:
Ready? Fire! Away! away! Get out of reach as quietly and as quickly
as possible.
We made tracks, noisy ones too. The island fort burst into fire, and
more shells came tearing around us, but nothing else happened. The
mine had failed!
Investigation at once discovered the reason. We had not proceeded far
under the star-shower of shells when the report was made. The wire was
cut! cut by a fluke of the anchor, which had chafed through it. There
was no alternative, we must return.
In a few moments the boat was heading back, careless of the meteoric
display around us. The skipper sprang up from the wheel-shelter and
refastened the wire, unheeding the increasing storm of projectiles,
which flew around us and pitted the icy water like hail. But again he
was met by failure. The charge refused to ignite, and there was no
other chance now save handwork,--that is, by doing it himself, amid the
greatest danger of death by shot or shell, or drowning from the boom,
or explosion,--and all this in the black darkness, relieved only by the
gleams of murderous shells. The crew worked well and bravely, excited,
as one may say, perhaps, by the coolness of their chief. The shot came
leaping, ricochetting over the harbour; the shells screamed most
unpleasantly in our ears; fingers were numbed, and our breathing was
like steam amid those exertions. But the skipper landed on the boom,
fixed three very destructive charges, and resumed his post at the
wheel, ready, when the engines were moved full speed ahead. The deed
was done!
Then the line was pulled taut, the detonator exploded, the three
charges flared, the boom was rent, and the torpedo-boat No. 6 sped away
over the sea, past the staring flotilla at a distance, keeping her
perilous course, past the narrow entrance, amid such a cannonade as I
had had never dreamed of,--a duel now between the victors and the
victims of the outrage. But the boat returned, unharmed, in the
darkness, and in a short time showed her lights in the offing, out of
reach of the hail of shot and flaming shell, to enjoy the rest which
the gallant crew had fairly earned when the report had been received.
[Illustration: THE DEED WAS DONE! TORPEDO-BOAT NO. 6 SPED AWAY]
This was an expedition conducted with great intrepidity, and crowned
with immediate success, the results of which proved most disastrous to
the defence. Next night two flotillas penetrated the harbour through
the wider breach No. 6 had made, and a fearful engagement ensued. In
this two torpedo-boats were lost, and in No. 6 the tubes were frozen,
so the torpedoes were not discharged. One of the first two boats
referred to was blown up by a shell, but the great man-o'-war,
_Ting-yuen_, was scuttled by a torpedo or torpedoes, and next day sank
slowly in sight of the fleet. The Japanese had had two boats lost and
two injured. The latter were sent to Port Arthur to repair. The boat
I was in was struck fifty times, once by a shell.
This was "warm" work, but next night it became warmer still, for the
leader of the expedition reported that the admiral, with tears in his
eyes, had told him of the necessity of destroying the rest of the
fleet, and the danger of it. On that second night, the 4th, we knew
that many men had been killed by shot, that many besides had been
scalded, and many actually frozen to death in the water, even under
comparatively fortunate circumstances. The admiral and his captains
knew the danger, and the latter fully appreciated it when next day a
further attack was determined upon.
"You may be unable to return through the breach," said the admiral.
"The Chinese will be prepared and alive to the danger."
"I am quite ready," replied the officer addressed, calmly.
"I am grieved to order the attack. But there is no help for it. It
must be done for our country's sake. Do your best, as I am sure you
will, and emblazon your name upon the scroll of fame."
With these words the admiral dismissed the commander of the flotilla,
and with a touching farewell. They "could scarcely have expected to
meet again," says the narrator of the interview.
When the officer rejoined his boat he communicated his orders, and did
not hide the danger. Death was almost certain, there were no lanterns,
no plans, no orders, no signals. The boats cast off everything not
necessary for the attack, as a forlorn hope goes into action unfettered.
"Our boats and our bodies are the enemy's." This was the signal. But
little hope, and less alarm, was displayed. At a quarter to three a.m.
(February 6th) the boats left the fleet to destroy Chinese ships, but
our torpedo-boat came back, having collided with the boom in the dark.
So I returned unharmed.
We, outside, could not see the results until daylight, but the roar of
the cannon, the flashing of the sweeping search-lights, and the
bursting of the shells could be perceived in the darkness. We saw
rockets signalling in the harbour, but until the boats returned great
anxiety was felt. At daybreak they all returned safely, and reported
three ships sunk. These were the _Wei-yuen_, _Lai-yuen_, and _Pao-Hwa_.
On the 5th I had rejoined the _Naniwa_, by permission, and saw that the
contest could only end in one way soon. When the news came on the 6th
February that the three ships had been sunk there was great rejoicing,
and many congratulations were exchanged in the squadron. On the 7th we
all took part in "the ball," shelling the forts and firing for a couple
of hours until my head seemed splitting, and I was perfectly deaf for a
while after.
We were in the middle of the smoke and din when a signal was made high
above the vapour that the Chinese torpedo-boats were escaping by the
western passage in the direction of Chefoo. The First Flying Squadron
was ordered to pursue them--the _Yoshino_ leading us. She is a very
fast cruiser, her speed being twenty-three knots, the rest being not
much more than eighteen. We spun along, full speed, and some alarm was
caused in the _Naniwa_ by a shell which plumped into the coal-bunker.
Fortunately the protection afforded by the coal prevented any serious
damage being done, and the Chinese boats were all destroyed save two,
which managed to elude the pursuers, though crippled, and to reach the
treaty port--Chefoo.
I was anxious to go there too, as I believed I could find protection,
but of course the _Naniwa_ could not land me at that time. The ship
returned to the blockade; the attack and bombardment was resumed on the
8th February, when the combined squadrons, having silenced the fort on
Sih Island, destroyed some hundreds of yards of the terrible boom, and
cut it up.
These tactics were continued during the next three days, when the ships
attacked with flags flying as if in anticipation of victory. The
severe bombardment was continued, the Chinese pluckily replied; they
did considerable damage to the enemy; and the attack was continued
until night. Still the Chinese admiral resisted, though the losses he
had sustained in ships and boats were most serious. The once large and
formidable Peiyang Fleet had dwindled away, and now only four ships and
a few gunboats represented the former powerful array. The end was at
hand.
We heard afterwards some particulars of the concluding days of the
contest, which must have been severely trying for the Celestials. In
our fleet the termination of the war was everywhere discussed. Port
Arthur captured, its forts denuded of guns, Kinchow, and other places
inland in Japanese hands; Wei-hai-Wei on the brink of destruction--what
chance had the Chinese admiral and generals? Better had they accepted
the offer of the Japanese and surrendered at first.
We were all awake early in the morning of the 12th February, because
experience told us that the enemy must either resist to the death that
day or capitulate. The blockade was so close, the odds against the
Chinese so great, that we had already wondered at the sustained
resistance, The extreme limit of Celestial endurance had been reached,
though we did not anticipate the result as it actually happened.
As the grey winter day rose out of the sea to port, all eyes were fixed
upon the batteries and the ships in harbour. Telescopes swept the
hills and platforms, the traces of the wrecked boom, the almost
deserted islands, the shattered forts. As men gazed in silence, broken
only at intervals by duty orders, a sense of depression fell upon me,
as if something unpleasant awaited us. Yet precautions had been
taken--nothing could harm us. Nevertheless one _felt_ something was
approaching. The snowclad hills lay silent and cold over all--a shroud
spread over dying Wei-hai-Wei. Surely that small Chinese gunboat
cleaving the lumpy water had nothing to do with the _denouement_. One
boat amongst so many ironclads and torpedo-boats could not do any harm.
It was only eight o'clock then. "What do you say, Tomi? A _white
flag_! Surrender! Never! never!"
"Yes it is," said Tomi, laughing. "Hurrah! you would say in England.
The admiral has surrendered. There goes the message of peace. He is
making for the _Matsushima_. We win! we win!"
We looked again. All the ships' companies were on the alert, but
though every mind had at once grasped the position, scarce a mouth yet
betrayed the feelings of delight and satisfaction that must have been
experienced. What would the admiral's reply be? Three torpedo-boats
at once came to escort the stranger, and to make inquiry concerning her
business--at least so we interpreted the conversation which seemed,
judging from gestures, to be proceeding. A boat left the Chinese
vessel, and the messenger was carried on board the Japanese flagship.
The message must have been important, because some officers were
quickly summoned from other of our fleet. Subsequently a steamer
quitted the squadron for the eastern shore, presumably to acquaint the
Commander-in-Chief of the army of the incident, but these were only
surmises at the time, though afterwards verified.
That afternoon the news ran through the ships that the Chinese had
surrendered, and Admiral Ito had accepted the offer. He trusted fully
to Admiral Ting to act as he desired, promising safe-conduct. But when
next day the gunboat again appeared she carried her flag "half-mast."
Ting and his generals had committed suicide. They could not face the
disgrace,--a disgrace which they knew would be visited upon all their
families, for in China retribution is exacted from all the family for
the fault of one. Ting had taken opium.
The melancholy signal to the fleet was received with honest regret.
There was no exultation over the fallen enemy, no music brayed out
triumphal strains of victory, only the wailing notes of funeral marches
in saddened plaints echoed across the water. The gunboat was returned
to the Chinese so that it might convey the admiral's body to China, and
the place surrendered with all its contents, its troops, sailors,
ships, and material, to the Japanese, who will retain it till the
English come.
Thus fell the fortunes of Wei-hai-Wei, the details of which may be read
in many published books and Eastern newspapers.
The Chinese troops were sent to Chefoo or to other places of safety;
and the ships captured, not including the released gunboat, ten in all,
were manned by Japanese sailors, and proceeded under these prize-crews
to Japan. The released boat, _Kwang Tsi_, was employed as a transport,
and in this way I found safety at last.
As soon as the arrangements had been concluded, I made application to
be sent to Chefoo, where I anticipated to meet Captain Goldheugh. I
had had no messages from home for some time save those delivered to
friend Tomi, and now that the excitement of war and adventure had
subsided I was anxious to leave. Perhaps had I made application to the
British commander he would have given me a passage to Shanghai, but I
had been expecting to meet my captain at Chefoo, and determined to
proceed thither. As the gunboat was sailing I requested a "lift" in
her, but was warned not to go.
"Your life would not be safe," said one of the officers. "Try a junk,
the distance is nothing, and a junk is safe enough. You pay him when
he returns with a letter saying you are safe."
"But I have no money--at least, hardly any."
"Quite so," replied Tomi cheerfully. "That is my affair. You will see
your captain, no doubt, and he will assist you. We will signal a junk
somehow--presently. The fleet is returning westward."
I thanked my kind entertainers heartily, and protested against their
thus paying the piper. But Tomi was a favourite, and the captain's
nephew. The captain himself at once "shut me up," good-naturedly, and
though he could not send me in one of his boats to Chefoo, he managed
to procure me transport to the port, and sent a sailor with me as
surety for my safety.
Having taken a regretful farewell of my kind friends I embarked on a
junk in the harbour, such a queer craft she seemed. Tomi was in
command of the ship's boat which put me on board, and we had quite an
affecting parting. But both hoped to meet again, promising to
write,--a promise since kept up, when newspapers do not sometimes take
the place of letters. (Tomi has sent me much information since, and
has translated several articles accompanied by pictures.[1]) However,
we parted rather sadly, and on the 19th February I lost sight of the
fleet, and reached Chefoo before dark.
[1] These are mentioned in the Preface.--H.F.
A cruise in a junk is not unpleasant, but she seems to a European a
very queer boat. The size varies, of course, from a thousand tons
downwards; the particular craft I engaged was about half that burden,
or perhaps less, teak-built, and carrying a high poop; she had two
masts, the mainmast with a large sail was very lofty indeed; and she
carried a crew of, I think, twenty men--I believe there are more at
sea. At anyrate she suited me, and so I came to Chefoo in the _Ching
King_, and was landed near the English houses.
Chefoo or Chifu is the name of the treaty port, which is in fact the
"European" settlement as distinguished from Yen Tai the native town.
The port is open all the year, and being also a healthy place is more
or less frequented by others than business men. The English settlement
is on the left, the Chinese town on the right, and in the centre rises
the "signal hill" which divides them. When we reached the "stranger"
town we found several vessels sheltered there, and numerous junks,
boats, and small craft lying darkly in the water, while the hills above
were thickly covered with snow, giving quite an Alpine aspect to the
surroundings. Chefoo is a kind of "suburb" of Shanghai, though
"outside the radius," and hither come the ships to their haven under
the hill, to the sandy shore, to deal in cottons and "shirtings" with
the Celestial inhabitants of the (as usual) dirty Chinese town.
My heart beat more rapidly than usual when I stood upon the poop-deck
of the junk and surveyed the harbour. The signal was greatly in
evidence, but the trim, even, respectable houses of the English quarter
fixed my attention first, and then my eyes wandered to the shipping,
particularly to the agitated red ensigns, which made me thrill with the
hope of seeing English faces and clasping English hands, speaking the
familiar language,--very familiar in ships,--and of once more meeting
Captain Goldheugh late of the _Feng Shui._
* * * * *
I was landed safely, and sent my acknowledgment by the junk, which at
once made her way back. As I watched her gradually disappearing, now
lost, now evident, amid the vessels, I reflected upon my late
adventures, and made up my mind to write them down, and, in the
familiar words of the hymn, to make "Bethel" out of "my stony griefs,"
to improve the occasion and to profit by the trouble I had endured.
Then I turned half sadly to the hotel, and was almost immediately
hailed loudly in unmistakably British accents.
"Young Julius! ahoy! Hallo there, ye half-bred Jap!--come alongside
and speak me, or I'll run ye down. My stars! here's a caper. By the
powers o' Moll Kelly! is it yourself? It is so!"
The speaker was standing behind me. Had I not sheered off to port I
must have collided with him. I had gone ahead and left him in my wake,
when I was suddenly brought up all standing. My assailant was
Goldheugh himself. Good Paddy Goldheugh! I was truly delighted,
though not greatly surprised, because I had been expecting to find him
at Chefoo. Still the meeting was most cordial. We shook hands in the
most hearty manner, and when, after some moments of this exercise, we
adjourned to the hotel, I told all my news, and awaited his--after I
had made a few inquiries for letters, and for Tim, who had gone home.
No black edges! Thank goodness! No ill news? No! In fact, the
contrary. My captain was in command of a tidy steamer belonging to his
old company, and temporarily on the coast. He had the berth of first
mate for me with him, and a "lump of compensation," he said, for
shipwreck. He had been satisfied, and hoped I would be. I was!
When he reached his ship he handed me a batch of letters and papers of
domestic interest, and a welcome draft upon the Shanghai Bank. All
these composed a sort of pastoral symphony which made me feel contented
and happy amid the voices and murmurs of congratulation and admiration
at my experience. Three days passed in perfect peace, reading,
writing, and adding up my ideas--and funds. Then we quitted Chefoo,
and steamed past Wei-hai-Wei, then in Japanese hands, toward Shanghai,
and my war experience 'twixt Jack and Jap--'twixt China and Japan--was
ended.
We heard that the Japanese fleet sailed to the Pescadores, and annexed
them, and the campaign was continued after a while in Manchuria. A
treaty of peace was agreed upon by which Japan was to receive an
immense indemnity to retain Formosa, the Pescadores, and the possession
of Port Arthur and Wei-hai-Wei. But Western ideas could not admit this
in all its bearings. Russia induced France and Germany to force Japan
to relinquish the Liao-tung Peninsula or face war. Japan retired from
Port Arthur, and, as will be seen,--indeed it is already evident,--that
the kind "protectors of the Chinese Empire," the wolves from the north
of Europe, are now about to enjoy the dismembered carcass of the most
ancient kingdom, when they have bled it to death.
Captain Goldheugh brought me back safely to Shanghai, and there I at
intervals succeeded in putting my experiences on paper. Even while I
have been revising these pages news has come concerning various
advances made by Russian diplomacy, which, having ousted the Japanese
from Port Arthur, has apparently decided to occupy the place itself for
the Czar, "to show there is no ill-feeling." What may be the issue of
this intention one need not opine. What the Chinese think of any such
advance, was expressed, when I was there, in fear, if not trembling.
Japan, I think, will have a few words to say unless she be "squared."
But these political ideas may be suppressed. My narrative must close
here.
Perhaps this experience may interest some youthful readers in England,
where the serious aspect of matters in the East is always discussed.
Before this tale is in type the whole aspect of these events may have
changed, but the facts remain as I have attempted to picture them in
the foregoing pages. The story is told--my tale is ended; but the
final word is yet to be written concerning the struggle of 1895. The
end is not yet.
_Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London and Bungay._