THE DOGGER BANK AFFAIR.
In the middle of September the following startling despatch appeared in
the newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic:
"ABERDEEN, SCOTLAND, Sept. 16.--A passenger who arrived to-day on
board a coasting steamship reports that two Japanese officers and
nine sailors came on board the vessel from London.
"As soon as she arrived at Aberdeen they jumped into a small boat
and proceeded at once to a mysterious low-lying craft in the
offing, apparently a torpedo-boat, which, on receiving the men,
steamed seaward.
"It is believed here that the intention of the Japanese is to lie
in wait for the Baltic fleet."
In order to understand what Oto Owari and a brother officer were doing
in the North Sea at the time when the Associated Press gave out this
startling piece of news, we must return to the day when the battle-ship
_Petropavlovsk_ "turned turtle" in the bay of Korea, and, attacked by
some mysterious agency which was generally supposed to be either a
Russian or Japanese submerged contact-mine, sank with nearly every soul
on board.
The _Octopus_, which had made its way under cover of the darkness of the
preceding night to the western extremity of the Yellow Sea, and was
lying in wait for its huge adversary, had remained awash until daylight.
Then, closing the main hatch, she sank until only the end of the camera
projected above water. This easily escaped observation, looking, as it
did, like a bit of floating wreckage. According to directions from his
admiral, Oto made no move to attack the Russian ships when they were
coaxed out of their safe harbour by the wily Japanese, it being deemed
best not to risk a hasty assault at a time when the enemy were fully
alert and in the best condition. In case their squadron should escape
from the Japanese force outside--vastly superior to the Russians--and
should retreat towards Port Arthur, then the _Octopus_ was to strike its
blow, quickly and decisively.
The result is known, although naval authorities still dispute as to the
cause of the _Petropavlovsk's_ destruction. Oto, conning the _Octopus_
through the camera, observed the battle-ship returning to port after the
brief conflict in the open sea. He touched an electric knob and the
submarine quietly sank to a further depth of six feet. Being now
entirely out of sight, the terrible war-engine approached without
difficulty to within less than a hundred yards of the Russian ship,
discharged her torpedo with unerring aim, and accomplished her work. The
waters in the immediate vicinity of the huge victim were violently
agitated as she careened in her dying agony, and the _Octopus_ herself,
lingering near to inflict another blow if necessary, was in danger of
being drawn into the vortex made by the battle-ship as she went down.
The little submarine reversed her engine quickly enough, however, to
escape sharing the fate of her prey, and swiftly glided away to rejoin
the Japanese fleet. The agent of destruction, known only to the admiral
and the heads of the War Office, was not disclosed in Tokio, as it was
deemed best that the Russian Admiralty and the world at large should
know nothing of the terrible power Japan was wielding beneath the waves.
Oto remained on duty in command of the _Octopus_ for several weeks
longer, and was then detached for a more complicated task, one requiring
an extraordinary exercise of intelligence and adaptability, as well as
courage.
It was known that the Russians were preparing a formidable fleet at
home, to take the place of the war-ships that had been put out of action
in the East, and to establish the Muscovite power upon the seas. If
this could be done, it was conceded in military circles that Japan's
fate would be sealed. With her immense army cut off from supplies and
from retreat, the Russian ships could ravage the coast of the Island
Kingdom, and the army in Manchuria would be compelled to come to terms.
It was all-important to prevent the sailing of the Baltic fleet if
possible, or to damage it after it had started on its long voyage.
The Russian secret-service system has often been called the most
effective and far-reaching in existence; but the Japanese have learned
the methods of their huge neighbour, and with Oriental wit and alertness
have surpassed their teacher. At about this time several accidents
happened in the Russian navy yards at the head of the Baltic. One ship
suddenly sank at her moorings; another was severely damaged by an
inexplicable explosion; other strange mishaps befel the newly organised
fleet before they left their moorings. Everybody read in the newspapers
the reports of these "accidents," and everybody was puzzled to account
for them--everybody, except the authorities at Tokio!
In spite of every hindrance and disaster it became evident that the
fleet was nearly ready to sail, fully equipped and manned for the long
cruise which was to terminate, according to general expectation, in the
greatest naval battle the world had ever seen, should the fleet reach
Eastern waters.
Taking a swift liner across the Pacific, Oto, with ten picked men of the
Japanese navy, arrived at Vancouver on the 1st day of September. The
Canadian Pacific, Grand Trunk, and New York Central railways landed the
party in New York on the 7th; one week later they were in London. Here
they took a small steamer on a local line, reaching Aberdeen on the
15th. On reaching shore the men, most of whom were dressed as common
sailors in the merchant service, scattered among the water-side
boarding-houses, and, in a city where seamen of every nationality are an
every-day sight, excited little notice or comment.
Oto himself, having first consulted his note-book, repaired to a shop on
an obscure street where tea, carvings, and cheap Japanese curios were
sold. The shopkeeper eyed him sharply, glanced at a slip of rice-paper
which Oto presented, then made a low obeisance to the visitor, and
having locked the outer door of his shop and lowered the shades, led the
way to a narrow and steep stairway, murmuring in his own language: "I
break my bones to Your Excellency. Be honourably pleased to mount your
servant's despicable stairway to the private office."
What communications passed in that office cannot be known with
certainty. Oto, however, received from his countryman several
despatches, and entrusted to him a return message of utmost importance.
On the following day the nine Japanese met at the wharves by
appointment. A boat was awaiting them, manned by a crew of the same
nationality. In the offing the boat was taken up by a small,
rakish-looking black steamer which some observers declared to be a
torpedo-boat, others a "trawler," as the ships of the fishing-fleet were
called. Whatever its nature, the craft had heels, for, with black smoke
pouring from her short funnel, she soon disappeared to the northward.
There were those who averred that they had plainly seen the English
ensign flying over her taffrail.
Not to make a further mystery of this odd little vessel, it may be
stated at once that she was no other than the _Kiku_, or
"Chrysanthemum"; the same small war-ship which had hailed the _Osprey_
in mid-ocean in her outward voyage, and had received and restored by a
piece of incomparable naval dexterity the cabin steward of the gunboat.
The _Kiku_ was a combination of torpedo-boat and destroyer; that is she
was a small, swift steamer, fitted with both torpedo-tubes and
three-inch rifled guns. Her efficiency in attack would depend largely on
her speed, which was not less than twenty-six knots an hour, under
forced pressure. For this reason, too, she was used as a despatch-boat.
During the first six months of the war she was coaled and provisioned at
obscure ports, often making long runs to escape observation.
In the weeks that followed Oto's embarkation, the _Kiku's_ appearance
was changed in several important particulars. She now might easily have
passed for one of the trawling fleet that were familiar to every sailor
in the North Sea. Her torpedo-tubes were concealed by canvas shields,
painted black and so arranged that they could be easily drawn aside in
action. Her guns were rigged out of sight, and port-holes closed so
cleverly that only a trained eye would discover them, and that in broad
daylight. At night the _Kiku_ was an innocent fishing steamer, pursuing
her honest avocation under the protection of Great Britain.
The sailing of the Baltic fleet had been again and again announced, and
as often postponed. Vice-Admiral Rojestvensky knew that he was
surrounded by spies, and more than half guessed that danger was awaiting
him when once the home sea should have been left behind. At length, on
the 21st of October, the great battle-ships and cruisers weighed anchor
in earnest and started for Port Arthur. If that stronghold was to be
saved, the relieving force could no longer be delayed. The Japanese were
tightening their grip daily, and with an enormous sacrifice of life were
taking position after position. Kouropatkin had made a vain attempt to
march southward and succour the beleaguered fortress, and had been
beaten back. Relief could only come by sea. It was believed at St.
Petersburg that Stoessel could hold out until February, when
Rojestvensky's fleet would be at hand to effect a diversion and open the
harbour.
Slowly and majestically the ponderous ships moved onward, the lookouts,
doubled in number, watching every suspicious-looking craft, the officers
scanning the sea, from the bridges, with powerful marine glasses. Just
after sunset the fleet entered the North Sea and turned their massive
prows toward the south.
Between latitude 54° 10' and 57° 24' North, and longitude 1° and 6° 7'
East (from Greenwich), a huge sand-bank lies under the waters of the
North Sea, midway between England and Denmark. It is called the Dogger
Bank, and affords extensive fishing-grounds which are frequented by all
sorts of craft, from a wherry to a thousand-ton steamer. Here the Hull
fleet set their trawls, and, with lights twinkling from bow and
mast-head, toss and swing at their anchors through the long hours of the
night. Every pilot in the United Kingdom, and on the coasts of the
adjacent European states, knows of these trawlers and plots his course
to avoid them in crossing the North Sea. The admiral of the Baltic
fleet either forgot them entirely, or recklessly took the risk of their
lying in the path of his heavier ships.
As the night--an unusually dark one--of October 21st closed in, the Hull
fishermen were anchored as usual over the Dogger Bank. There were half a
dozen or more of them, and before midnight their number was increased by
one--a low, black hull like their own, which brought up just north of
the main group without attracting attention.
The lights of the _Kiku_--for the newcomer was no other than the
disguised destroyer--were made to conform exactly to those displayed by
the trawlers. No one could have taken her for a war-ship, with her big
fourteen-foot Whitehead torpedoes waiting to be unleashed behind their
canvas tompions.
Far away to the northward a light twinkled in the darkness; another, and
another.
"Slip the cable," ordered Oto quietly, not daring to recover his anchor
lest the noise of the chain and pawls should be heard. "Clear decks for
action!"
A low hum of voices sounded through the ship. Bare feet pattered to and
fro as the decks were cleared, the guns were run out, screens removed,
and ammunition hoisted. All this had been done in repeated drill until
the men knew exactly where to place their hands in the dim light
afforded by carefully shielded lanterns.
"Cast loose and provide!" "Load!"
The orders were in a strange tongue, but varied little from those
taught at the Annapolis Academy. Like some black kraken of old,
crouching for a spring at its approaching prey, the _Kiku_ silently
awaited the approach of the Baltic war-ships. Across the water from one
of trawlers came a rough sea-song from the English sailors at their
work.
Nearer and nearer came the great battle-ship leading the fleet, the
flag-ship of the vice-admiral. A much smaller vessel, corresponding in
class to the _Osprey_, scouted at a little distance to the west.
Suddenly a glare illumined the water. The scout's search-light was
turned full on the _Kiku_. Instantly the rattling report of the
gunboat's main battery roared out, followed by the heavier guns of the
battle-ship.
Rojestvensky, who, strange to say, had been below decks, now rushed to
the bridge, and caught sight of the black hulls of the trawlers.
"Fire into them! Sink them! Ahead full speed! They are torpedo-boats!"
he ordered without a moment's reflection.
The search-light of the flag-ship picked up a fishing steamer, and a
moment later a solid shot passed through the hull of the unfortunate
trawler, below the water-line, and she began to sink.
[Illustration: ON THE DOGGER BANK.]
A few more shots were fired wildly from the panic-stricken Russians,
but in five minutes it was all over. The fishing-fleet were miles
astern, and the battle-ships were furiously rushing from the scene of
the brief and inglorious action. One of the trawlers was sunk, two men
killed, and twenty wounded. This was the story that was brought to Hull
the next morning, and set every Englishman's blood boiling at the
reckless, needless disaster inflicted by Rojestvensky's ships.
What, meanwhile, had become of the _Kiku_? When the first gun was fired
and the shot struck the water beside her she slapped a steel bolt into
the transport _Kamschatka_, taking one of her funnels off neatly. The
enemy were too distant for torpedo work, and before the Japanese gunners
could determine where to fire (they had aimed hap-hazard at the
search-light of the scout, for the first shot), or in what direction to
steer for an attack at close quarters, a shell plumped into their
engine-room and exploded, killing four men and putting the ship
completely out of action. Another shot hulled the _Kiku_ and fatally
wounded three more of her crew. Oto, standing on the bridge and hitherto
unhurt, calmly gave orders to lower the boats. There was confusion in
the darkness, and the sudden calamity, and only one of the _Kiku's_ four
boats was in the water before the ship sank. Oto was one of the
half-dozen men who were picked up; every other on board went, with
their vessel, to the bottom of the North Sea.
Driven away from the trawlers by a fresh breeze, the Japanese survivors
headed their boat westward and pulled lustily. Early the next afternoon
they landed near Yarmouth and made their way to London. Their leader
knew where to send them, in that great city, to find friends, and within
a week they had shipped in various vessels for Japan. Oto himself,
having sent a cipher despatch to Tokio, took passage on a Cunarder for
New York, and was once more on board a ship in Togo's fleet in time to
witness the fall of Port Arthur.
To anticipate the course of this story, and complete that of the Dogger
Bank affair, it may be added that for a time war between Russia and
England seemed imminent. An agreement between the two Powers, however,
was finally reached, by the terms of which an international inquiry was
to be held, conducted by a Commission of naval officers of high rank,
one British, one Russian, one French, one American, and one to be
selected by these four. Evidence as to the presence of torpedo-boats on
the Bank was widely conflicting, but after many protracted meetings the
North Sea Tribunal, as it was called, finally announced its decision,
which was, briefly, that the Russians had not, in reality, been attacked
by torpedo-boats, and that the vice-admiral was not justified in firing
into the fishing-fleet; that, however, "under the circumstances
preceding and following the incident there was such uncertainty
concerning the danger to the squadron as to warrant Rojestvensky in
continuing his route." They did not positively condemn the Russians for
firing, but they decreed that they should pay an indemnity to England,
for the property destroyed, and to aid the families of the killed and
wounded fishermen.
There was much criticism upon this verdict throughout the countries
represented upon the Commission; but it was indeed impossible for the
judges to determine where the fault really lay. The trawlers testified,
one and all, that there was no torpedo-boat present. Certain officers of
the Russian ships, on the other hand, testified point-blank to having
seen the hostile craft, and the commander of the _Kamschatka_ stoutly
alleged that he had been fired upon by a torpedo-boat, and had signalled
the fact to the flag-ship, at the outset of the affair.
On the whole, the best comment upon the verdict was made by Bob Starr,
on the _Osprey_, when he read the despatch in the papers.
"It reminds me of the Western jury," said the midshipman, "who knew the
prisoner well, and liked him too much to convict him; so they brought in
a verdict of 'Not guilty, but don't do it again!'"