MORE BLOCKERS
The 2nd of May was a trying day, for there was a rumour about that we
were again to be attacked. The day wore on until the sun slowly sank
in the west on its way to hide behind Quail Hill, and its slanting
rays gave a farewell glint of light upon the sea, the hills, and the
town. Soon all was veiled by the cloak of night; everything behind
the huge hills seemed to sleep. But the Fortress was not sleeping;
it was only pretending, for now and then searchlights flashed from
the dark mass, like the eyes of a monster, and their rays wheeled
dazzlingly across the sea. Yet the monster had not eyes enough; there
were only five all told. It was midnight, and the gentle moon above
the hills lit up the whole scene. Suddenly, as if by word of command,
the shore batteries opened fire. A minute passed--a second, a third,
and everything was once more quiet; but though silence again reigned,
the town was awake, and life was visible in the streets. The vibrating
rattle of a machine-gun could be heard in the channel as it fired at an
escaping rowing-boat, for one blocker had been sunk. A cutter put out
from the _Sevastopol_; in it was the Viceroy, Alexeieff, going to the
gunboat _Otvajny_, which flew the flag of Rear-Admiral Loschinsky, and
which was lying right in the narrows by Tiger's Tail; further forward
near the boom itself lay the _Giliak_. Again the awful whirlwind of
metal thundered, whistled, and roared, seemingly destroying everything
that came in its way; the condition of the narrows beggars all
description; the water literally boiled with falling shells. On the
forebridge of the _Otvajny_, in the very centre of the narrows, stood
the Viceroy, personally directing the defences, inspiring every one
by his calmness under the hail of small shell from the quick-firing
guns of the blockers and destroyers. Loschinsky, in the conning-tower
of the _Giliak_, was methodically directing the repulse of one of the
most gallant attacks ever attempted in this world, made by unarmoured
steamers against the whole front of a powerful naval fortress. The
cannonade increased till individual shots could not be distinguished,
but were blended in the thundering echoes.
Two rockets shot up from the _Giliak_, and there was silence for twenty
minutes, after which fire recommenced and continued almost without
ceasing for two hours. Three rockets shot up from Golden Hill, lighting
up the narrows and the Roads close by. The batteries again ceased fire.
In the blinding glare of the bursting rockets a dreadful picture was
revealed: against the dark background of the waters, almost in the
narrows, lay the sunken vessels, masts and funnels clustered with men.
It was only a lull before a fresh storm--a boding silence--for in the
distance more blockers were seen to be tearing in. The whole Fortress
slumbered for a moment, then woke up and turned all its force to beyond
the narrows, towards which the doomed vessels, brilliantly lit up in
the rays of the searchlights, were dashing at full speed. The enemy's
fleet stood afar off on the dark horizon, as if frightened.
But the attempt was all in vain; the narrows were quite clear. Out
of twelve blockers, ten had ceased to exist--had been absolutely
destroyed--and with them two destroyers, and many a Japanese hero had
been hurled into his cold grave. With morning the fight ended.
This incredible attempt to block the entrance to the harbour in the
face of the whole front of the Fortress--incredible by reason of
its magnificent daring--had failed, thanks to the vigilance of the
guard-ships and the skilfully organized mine defences. I venture
to assert that the whole honour of repulsing the blockers, and, in
consequence, of preserving all our ships from dishonourable inactivity
when the enemy were preparing to land, is due almost entirely to the
ships of the mining defence and to Rear-Admiral Loschinsky. Of nine
of the blockers, two were blown up by engineer mines, two by mines
laid by steam pinnaces, one by a Whitehead torpedo fired from one of
the blockers which had been sunk on March 27; three never reached the
narrows, but anchored outside and blew up, all on board being killed,
and one ran aground at Electric Cliff.
After dinner on the evening of the 4th I was sitting in the ward-room
of the _Otvajny_, where several of the officers were relating their
experiences of the previous night. Conversation had gradually turned
to the doings of the army in the north and the connexion between the
desperate attempts to block the entrance and the probable landing of
troops in the north, when about eight o'clock an orderly came in and
told Captain Pekarsky that they had called him up on the telephone from
Golden Hill. After a few minutes he returned.
'Gentlemen, I've just got a message to say that the enemy have begun
landing at Petsiwo. The Viceroy, in accordance with Imperial orders,
leaves for Mukden to-morrow.'
For a minute we sat silent, for, although it could hardly be called
unexpected, the news was depressing.
We were cut off!