THE WAR BETWEEN CHINA AND JAPAN.
The Opening of Japan to Foreign Nations.
We may well be proud of the fact that our country was the first to open the empire of Japan to the free intercourse which, in common with the rest of the world, we now enjoy with that formerly mysterious country. In former years the Dutch, Portuguese, English, and others had a limited intercourse with the Japanese, but were cut off from that, and, with the exception of the Dutch, entirely expelled from the country two centuries and a half ago. The Dutch alone, of all Christian nations, were allowed to remain for the purposes of traffic, “and they purchased the privilege at the price of national humiliation and personal imprisonment, for which all the profits of gainful barter offer but an inadequate compensation.”
This self-isolated empire, Japan, has experienced more radical and startling changes within the last generation than any people or nation of which history treats. It seemed as if, once freed from the trammels which had so long confined it, the empire was determined, at one bound, to place itself abreast of other nations which had attained a high civilization and enlightenment by slow and painful steps. With a wealth of the best models before them, and the intelligence to be able to throw off their prejudices and avail themselves of those models, the feat was easier, but still remains wonderful, the more we consider it.
Situated at the eastern extremity of Asia, between 31° and 49° north latitude, the empire consists of a large group of islands, many of them small and surrounded by a sea which is not very easy to navigate at all times.
There are three very large islands—Niphon, or Nippon, seven hundred miles long, but so narrow that its breadth in the centre is not more than fifty miles; Kiusiu, about two hundred miles long and fifty miles wide; and Yesso, formerly sometimes called Xicoco, eighty-five or ninety miles long and fifty wide.
There are many mountains, some of them volcanic, and the country is subject to earthquakes, often of a serious character.
The number of inhabitants is given as about forty millions; but it is said by late observers that, dense as the population appears to be in certain regions, the country could support many more.
The Japanese appear to be a mixture of the Malay and Mongolian races, like the Chinese, from whom there seems little doubt they derived their civilization, ages ago.
The first knowledge of Japan which the Western world had was given by the Venetian traveller, Marco Polo, at the end of the thirteenth century. When he returned from a long sojourn in Asia he was hardly believed when he spoke of a large island off the coast of Cathay, or China, which he called Zipangu. That island is the modern Nippon.
There is no doubt that Marco Polo’s written story and accompanying maps had much to do with the determination of Columbus to find the farthest east by sailing west. Although he was not able to find and open Japan, he did discover a country which has performed a part of his contemplated work—a nation which, if it did not discover Zipangu, was to become the instrument of bringing it into free and full communication with the rest of the world.
It is to the Portuguese that we owe the first real knowledge of Japan. When Mendez Pinto, on a voyage to China in 1542, was driven by a storm to Japan and landed there, the event was considered so important by the authorities of that isolated country that they not only entered it in their archives, but preserved portraits of persons who seemed most strange to them in complexion, features, dress, and language.
The authorities and the visitors were so much pleased with each other that an arrangement was entered into by which a Portuguese ship was to be yearly despatched—probably from Macao—laden with articles of trade. The returns were made in gold, silver, and copper, of which latter metal there was abundance in Japan.
Then came the establishment of a mission under Francis Xavier, afterwards canonized by the Catholic Church, and a man of wonderful ability and with all the requisites for a Christian missionary of his time. He and his assistants did not meddle with Japanese affairs or politics, soon made friends, and many converts; but St. Francis Xavier died in 1552, and his successors were not so wise or so Christian-like as he had been. They differed among themselves and meddled with matters which did not concern them. The Franciscans and Dominicans quarrelled with the Jesuits, but they obtained, among them, a very large number of converts, among whom were numbered some of the princes or feudal lords.
The Dutch came next in establishing a footing in Japan, about 1598. One of their first vessels had an English pilot named William Adams, who has left us a narration of his long residence there—a romantic story, but which can only be alluded to here. He arose to high distinction, and, among other things, instructed the Japanese in the art of ship-building and mathematics.
An English factory was established at Hirado in 1613, but the enterprise was soon abandoned.
All went well with the Portuguese until about the year 1617, when a revolution occurred in Japan which placed in power those who were hostile to both foreign traders and to missionaries. This revolution had a fatal effect upon the Portuguese influence, especially as they had, as has been said, showed imprudence in mingling in the politics of the country, while their ambassador exhibited great pride and haughtiness, in marked contrast with the Dutch. The latter, attending strictly to their mercantile transactions and moved by hatred and jealousy of their rivals, the Portuguese, took good care to give the assurance that they themselves were of a different creed from the Jesuits.
When, therefore, in 1637, the Portuguese—traders, missionaries, and all—were banished from the country, after many persecutions and much bloodshed, the Dutch were allowed to keep up an intercourse, but under severe restrictions.
Once rid of the Portuguese, there then began a persecution of the native Christians, which continued for many years, during which it is said that several millions suffered for their faith. The number sounds large, but all accounts agree in regard to it.
Then the Dutch fell under suspicion, for several good reasons, and were only permitted to remain at all on condition of residing at one spot, where they could be guarded and every motion observed. In 1641 they were ordered to remove to Dezima, a small island near Nagasaki, which Kæmpfer said “was more like a prison than a factory.” But, unwilling to quit the prospect of profitable trade, they willingly underwent this imprisonment and agreed to forego any of the outward signs of Christianity, such as leaving off divine service, etc.
The island Dezima is shaped like a fan, and is very small, only about six hundred by two hundred and fifty feet, and mostly of artificial construction. It was connected with the town of Nagasaki by a bridge, on which there was always a strong guard. The whole island was surrounded by a high fence with iron spikes. No stone houses were permitted to be built, and the interpreters, clerks, and servants were spies, whom the Dutch were obliged to pay. The few ships allowed to come annually were searched and their arms and powder taken away. “A more annoying and thorough system of imprisonment and espionage was never devised.”
Although subject to this oppression and contumely, the Dutch continued their trade—one or two ships going from Batavia every year—until Japan was thrown open to the world by means of the action of the American expedition of 1853. But before speaking of that expedition we must allude to the idea which has been extensively entertained that there were formerly, and until quite recently, two Emperors at the same time in Japan. This erroneous idea was conceived in this way. About the year 1200, of our era, the then Emperor created a supreme general, called Shógun. Each Shógun owed allegiance to the Emperor, and was invested by him, but his position as supreme head of the military organization, which gave him immense influence with the powerful nobles or feudal lords, made him almost the equal of the sovereign. Several years after Japan had been opened to the world and treaties made with many nations, in 1868, the Shógun’s power was shattered during a war which might be denominated a revolution. Military domination was swept away and the Mikado reinstated in his position of supreme authority. In that year the powerful Tokugawa clan, and others who supported the Shógun, were overcome by the great clans of Satsuma, Choshin, and Tosa, and a powerful northern opposition was put down by the Mikado’s forces.
It is a curious fact that the Stonewall Jackson, an ironclad, took part in this war. She had been built in France for the Confederates, taken to Havana, and then claimed by our government as a spoil of war. She was sold by the United States to Japan, and taken out there and delivered by one of our naval officers.
And now to relate some of the events in Japan in which our country was most concerned.
In 1831 our first effort at intercourse began. A Japanese junk which had been blown off their coast had drifted about the Pacific for a long time, and at length went ashore near the mouth of the Columbia River. Her crew were kindly treated and sent to China, whence they were sent, on board an American merchant ship, the Morrison, to Japan. People were not then aware of a Japanese law which prohibited the return of any Japanese who had left their country. At any rate, it was an errand of mercy. When the Morrison entered Jeddo Bay the Japanese, finding she was unarmed, fired at her with shotted guns, and she was forced to go to Kagosima. Meeting the same reception there, she returned to Macao with the shipwrecked Japanese on board.
Complaints having multiplied that American seamen wrecked on the coast of Japan had been harshly treated by the authorities of that country—which was very true, for the writer was a shipmate of one who had been so treated, and often talked with him of his adventures—our government was anxious to make a treaty which would provide that such unfortunates should be kindly treated, and also that American vessels in distress should be able to enter Japanese ports for needed supplies. So Commodore Biddle, with the Columbus, of 90 guns, and the sloop-of-war Vincennes, of 20 guns, entered the Bay of Jeddo, in 1846. The ships were at once surrounded by guard boats—four hundred of them. The ships remained ten days, but no one belonging to them landed, and an application for license to trade was met by the answer: “No trade can be allowed with any foreign nation but Holland.”
The next attempt was in 1849, when the United States sloop-of-war Preble, Commander Glynn, was sent to inquire as to the detention in Japan of sixteen American seamen who had been shipwrecked on the coast of the islands. As the Preble approached Nagasaki harbor she was surrounded by boats and warned off. But the ship stood in with a fair breeze, and anchored in spite of them. Troops were hurriedly gathered and heavy batteries erected on the elevated shores, all bearing upon the ship. But Commander Glynn persisted, in spite of threats and subterfuge, demanding the prisoners and saying that the government meant to protect its citizens and means would be at hand to enforce its demands. Afterwards he sent word that the men must be delivered to him in two days’ time; and then the Japanese, finding him in earnest, gave them up. They had been very cruelly treated. Other attempts than those we have mentioned were made at different times, without success, by other nations, the English and the Russians especially.
Commodore Perry’s successful expedition left the United States in November, 1852, several vessels intending to join it being already in Chinese ports.
It was well known that our government contemplated such an expedition, and it had been the subject of much comment in several European countries more immediately concerned. The general opinion was that the mission would, like the many others which had been attempted by various powers, prove fruitless, from the prejudices and obstinacy of the Japanese. But they did not reckon upon the great tact, skill, and firmness which were to be displayed in the accomplishment of this difficult task. The President’s letter was presented on July 14th, 1853, when the squadron left with a promise to return next season for an answer. On March 31st, 1854, a treaty of peace and amity, providing especially for the protection of American sailors, was signed.
In June, 1857, a new treaty was made at Simoda, by Townsend Harris, American Consul-General to Japan, who succeeded in the next year in reaching Jeddo in spite of opposition, where he negotiated a third treaty, covering many more points than the first ones.
Other nations soon followed us in making treaties, until Japan was in full intercourse with the world at large.
It is impossible, here, to give more than a sketch of the many interesting incidents of Perry’s first visit, but we will endeavor to give a few points.
On the 7th of July, 1853, the Susquehanna and the Mississippi, paddle-wheel frigates, with the Plymouth and the Saratoga, sloops-of-war, entered the Bay of Yedo, the sailing sloops-of-war being in tow of the steamers, and the crews of the junks which were overhauled showed every evidence of surprise at the sight of the first steamships they had ever seen, taking to their oars and sweeps and hastily getting out of their course. At 5 o’clock in the afternoon the squadron anchored off the city of Uraga, and from their position distinctly saw the sacred mountain, Fusiyama, although it was at a distance of about sixty miles. Previous to anchoring a number of guard boats were observed coming off, and, contrary to the practice permitted during the visit of the Columbus, the Commodore determined to exclude casual visitors, so that they were not permitted even to make fast their boats to the ships, much less to come on board—a proceeding which seemed to anger the Japanese officials, but had a good effect in the end. Soon after an official came to warn the ships off, and he made signs to have the gangway ladder of the flag-ship lowered for him. But the interpreter told him that the Commodore was a very high officer of his government, and that he would receive no one but a functionary of the highest rank, and was asked why the Governor himself did not come off. He replied that he was forbidden by law to do so, and asked that he (the speaker, who was Vice-Governor,) should be received. After some delay this was done, but he only saw the Commodore’s aide, who told him that the Commodore’s intentions were perfectly friendly, and that he brought a letter from the President of the United States addressed to the Emperor. The Japanese official insisted that the ships must go to Nagasaki and there deliver the letter, as that was the only place, under their law, for the transaction of business with foreigners. He was told that the Commodore would not go to Nagasaki, but expected to be duly and properly received where he was, near Yedo, and intimated that force might be used to deliver the message with which he was charged. He was prepared to meet the Japanese on their own ground and imitate their own policy. The result was that the squadron was left free from all annoyance, an event unprecedented in the intercourse of Japan with foreign ships for two centuries.
There were a good many forts and batteries to be seen on the shore, however, and every precaution was taken against a sudden attack, especially as bodies of soldiers could be seen moving about. But the next day the Governor of the city appeared and came on board. Being an official of the third rank, however, the Commodore would not personally meet him. The Governor still insisted upon the ships leaving there and going to Nagasaki, and was again told that they would deliver the letter there, as the nearest point to the capital. At a later interview he was informed that unless an answer was given in three days, and the business which had brought the squadron there was arranged at the present visit, the Commodore would be obliged to return with a larger force, and, as Uraga was an unsafe anchorage, he should go much nearer to Yedo.
It would take many pages to give all the arguments for delay offered by the Japanese; but the firmness of Perry, who had not been personally seen—as too exalted a person—at last gained the day. The Emperor consented to have a meeting of high officers deputized by him and Commodore Perry in a house built for the purpose, on shore, where the letters could be formally exchanged. All the officers of the squadron who could be spared accompanied the Commodore, in full uniform, and a large force of marines and sailors, under arms, formed a guard of honor. The United States flag and the Commodore’s pennant were borne in front by two stalwart seamen, and two boys, appropriately dressed, bore, in an envelope of scarlet cloth, the President’s letter and the Commodore’s credentials.
After long ceremonial conversations, everything was settled pleasantly, and an answer promised upon the return of the squadron the next spring.
On the 12th of the following February, Perry returned for his answer. The Japanese were quite friendly, and the squadron, of three steamers and four sailing men-of-war, anchored about twelve miles beyond the town of Uraga and about twenty miles from the capital city, Yedo. Even then the Japanese tried to change the place of meeting, but without success, for the Americans persisted in having it at that place, which is now known as Yokohama. Here a fine building was erected as a “Treaty House,” and, on the 8th of March, 1854, Perry landed in state for the second time, and on that and the following days conferences were held and handsome presents interchanged. Among arms, implements, wines, and other things, was a small locomotive and tender, with a passenger car, and enough rails to form a track. The Japanese Government sent to the President a great quantity of things peculiar to the country, and all ended in a good understanding and the granting of the demands of the American Government.
Thus, not within the lifetime, but within the naval lifetime of the writer, has a nation emerged from complete isolation and become so powerful as to challenge and successfully meet in battle a neighboring nation, some of the provinces of which contain as many inhabitants as the whole of Japan.
No matter what may be the result of the war which is now going on, it is certain that none of the great Western nations which have hitherto controlled, more or less directly, the course of events in the extreme East, will in future venture to take political steps without reckoning Japan as a first-class power. Her resources, military and naval, are present, while those of the Western nations must be transported halfway round the world to reach them.
Before war was actually proclaimed the ships of China and Japan had two or three conflicts on the Korean coast, one of which involved quite a battle, and the destruction of a small Chinese cruiser which was protecting the landing of Chinese troops, from transports, on the coast of Korea. The second was the sinking of the Kow-Shing, which steamer, in spite of her Chinese name, was an English vessel, and one of the fastest and best employed in the Chinese coast trade.
When the news of the sinking of the Kow-Shing, which took place on the 25th of July, first appeared, there was great bluster in the English papers about holding Japan responsible; but, when the true facts came to light all this talk quickly died away, as it was clearly seen that the Japanese were within their own right in preventing the landing of their enemy’s troops in Korea. Of their merciless treatment of the Chinese when struggling in the water a difference of opinion may probably be held.
The “Kow-Shing incident” was as follows:—This vessel, of about 1400 tons, had a crew of Chinese, but the captain, the three mates, and three engineers were Englishmen. She was chartered by the Chinese government, by the month, for military purposes. Toward the end of July she took on board twelve hundred Chinese troops, with two generals, and their body-guards, of about one hundred and fifty men.
War was not formally declared, but two other Chinese troop ships trying to land men, and under escort of men-of-war, accomplished their purpose, but an action succeeded between the convoying vessels and some Japanese cruisers, in which one of the Chinese ships suffered great loss, and was set on fire. Her commander ran her on shore, where she shortly blew up.
The Japanese succeeded in intercepting the Kow-Shing, and determined to force her to return without landing the troops she had on board.
But one of the Chinese cruisers, the Tsi-Yuen, accompanying the two which had landed troops, observing the Japanese cruiser Naniwa taking note of the operation, is said to have approached the Naniwa with the Japanese flag flying and suddenly opened fire upon her, as evidence of which an officer of the Kow-Shing was shown a shell, which happily did not explode, in the ward-room of the Naniwa. “What happened afterwards was probably done, at least in part, as retaliation for this act of fighting under false colors.”
On July 25th at 8 o’clock in the morning, the Kow-Shing, with the Chinese troops on board, sighted the Naniwa, which signalled her to stop and then to anchor; she did so, and then signalled “Can we proceed?” As an answer to this the Japanese cruiser sent a boat, with an armed crew and two officers, who proceeded to the captain’s cabin, where they examined the ship’s papers. They were told that the Kow-Shing was a British steamer, with the British Consul’s clearance, flying the British flag, and that war had not been declared when she left port.
Major Von Hanneken, the German officer in Chinese employ, told the Chinese generals what had passed, and the latter said they had rather die where they were, and said that if the British officers attempted to leave the Kow-Shing they would be killed by their body-guard. The English captain tried his hardest to show them how useless it was to resist the Naniwa, but without success. By this time the boat had returned to the Naniwa, and the latter signalled, “weigh, cut or slip, wait for nothing” meaning that the English captain was to carry his ship back to the place whence she had come, and not attempt to land the generals and their troops in Korea. If they had obeyed the order there would have been no loss of property or life. But the Chinese would not allow the captain to move, and threatened death again if he did so. The Naniwa then steamed abeam of the Kow-Shing, on the port side, about 500 yards off. Then she blew her whistle, ran a red flag up to her foremast head, and discharged a torpedo, which however fell short. Immediately afterward, seeing that the torpedo had missed, the Naniwa fired a broadside which hulled the Kow-Shing, which keeled over to starboard and immediately began to sink.
The English officers at once jumped overboard, and began to swim for the land, through swarms of Chinamen, dead or drowning. Bullets were striking on every side. They came from the Chinese soldiers who were herded on the only part of the Kow-Shing left above water. Then the Englishmen swam toward the Naniwa, and after being a long time in the water were picked up by her boats. By this time only the Kow-Shing’s masts were visible, and two of her boats, while crowds of Chinese in the water were swimming about. The officer of the Japanese cutter which had picked up the Englishmen said he was ordered to sink the boats. He did fire at them and then returned to the Naniwa without picking up any of the Chinese. The next day the Naniwa joined the rest of the Japanese fleet, and the Englishmen were sent by despatch boat to Japan, where they were set at liberty a few days afterwards.
The Chinese and Japanese have for ages been in communication, mercantile and otherwise, but there has always, so far as history goes, been an underlying hostility in the feelings of the two nations. These feelings have been aggravated by collisions at various periods in regard to sovereignty, and the commercial intercourse with the Loo-choo Islands, as well as in regard to Formosa, a very large and immensely valuable possession for the nation which may be fortunate enough to hold it. At present the greater part of the island is in the possession of native clans, and the Chinese control the country for only a short distance inland, upon the southwestern portion mostly.
Then again, China and Japan have been at difference for a long time in regard to the Korean territory, over which China has always claimed a jurisdiction, which however she has not practically exercised, except by intriguing in the state affairs of the country and demanding acts of vassalage. When Japan, whose interests in her neighbors are very important, protested against Chinese intrigue and influence, she was received with ill-disguised contempt. Upon war being declared by Japan, the Emperor of China and his advisers, not recognizing the forward state of preparation of the Japanese, is said to have ordered his military and naval commanders to “exterminate the Japanese vermin.” How far the effort at “extermination” went, the whole world now knows.
Japan solemnly declared, in a diplomatic note, that her whole object in the war was to settle and secure once for all the separation and independence of Korea. Of course, if successful, she would demand compensation for the immense outlay incurred in her campaigns by land and sea; and, while not approaching the sum paid by France to Germany at the close of the Franco-German war, it will be very large indeed, and one which will hamper the Chinese government for a generation to come, as their fiscal methods do not readily lend themselves to such an emergency.
The Naval Battle of the Yalu, Sept. 17, 1894.
Since the advent of modern battle-ships of the new type, armed with high-powered rifled ordnance, naval officers of all nations had been eagerly looking for an occasion when the use of such ships and guns would be an object lesson to them, and various theories in regard to naval warfare would be put to the test of actual practice. While most people were looking to movements in other and widely distant parts of the world—some predicting a naval battle in the North Sea, while others looked for a battle of giants in the Mediterranean—the problem was in part solved for them by a pitched battle in the far Orient, between the Japanese and Chinese fleets, and which will be known in history as the battle of the Yalu.
The rival fleets may be said to have illustrated each a different principle. That represented by the Chinese was the principle of the school which puts material above personnel, for their fleet contained the heaviest ships and the largest guns, although these were not so numerous as those of the Japanese. They had also the most extensive torpedo equipment.
The Japanese represented the school which believes in lighter, more active ships, and in “the man behind the gun”—that is, the greater rapidity and accuracy of fire and ability in manœuvring—much the same as Farragut’s conviction that the best protection for a ship was a rapid and accurate fire from her battery.
BATTLE OF THE YALU—SINKING OF THE CHIH-YUEN.
Before proceeding to describe the battle it would be well to give some account of the strength of the contending fleets. By this we mean the available naval strength of each nation at the outbreak of the conflict.
The Chinese navy owes its existence principally to the fostering care of the Imperial Viceroy, Li Hung-Chang, now in disgrace. He employed Captain Lang, an Englishman, and other Europeans to drill the ships’ companies. But Captain Lang was forced to leave that service some time before the war began, and Captain Von Henneken, a German, who constructed the forts at and near the naval port of Wei-hai-wei, appears to have taken his place as adviser to Admiral Ting—as much as a military man can advise upon naval matters. The Chinese had five heavy ironclads—Ting-Yuen, Chen-Yuen, King-Yuen, Lai-Yuen, and Ping-Yuen—with armor from fourteen to eight inches thick, and armed with Krupp guns, from twelve-inch to eight-inch calibre, mounted in barbette. They had also some quick-fire and a number of machine guns. All of these vessels, except the Ping-Yuen, were built at Stettin, in Germany.
The Chinese protected and partly protected cruisers were nine in number, with armaments of Armstrong and other guns, and a number of quick-fire guns in two of them, the Tschi-Yuen and Ching-Yuen. Most of them were built in Germany and in England, but three of the smaller ones were constructed in the Chinese building yard at Foo-choo. Some of the vessels named were quite fast, but as the speed of a fleet is that of its slowest ship, we must put it down at ten or eleven knots—the speed of the ironclad Ping-Yuen.
The torpedo flotilla included twenty-eight boats of over one hundred feet in length and thirteen over eighty, all built in Stettin.
As regards the Japanese fleet, of the armor-clads (Riujo, Fuso, Kongo, Hi-Yei, and Tschiyoda), all are stated to be practically obsolete but the last, and she was much damaged in the battle by the Chinese Tschi-Yuen. They were all built in England at different dates, from 1864 to 1879. The Tschiyoda, armored cruiser, is a modern ship of about 2500 tons, built in Glasgow. She has a four-and-a-half-inch belt, one-inch deck plating, and mounts 24 quick-fire guns. Her best speed is about nineteen knots.
The modern protected cruisers which took part in the battle on the Japanese side were the Naniwa, Takachiko, Itsukushima, Hashidate, Matsushima, Akitsushima, and Yoshino. The lowest speed of any of these ships was seventeen and a half knots, and they were armed with Armstrong, Canet, and Krupp heavy guns and a very large number of quick-fire 4.7-inch, and smaller guns.
The Akitsushima and Hashidate were built in Japan; the Itsukushima and Matsushima at La Seyne, in France. The Naniwa and Takachiko were English built, as was also the new Yoshino, with a speed of twenty-three knots, 4150 tons, and one of the finest cruisers afloat in any navy.
The Japanese torpedo flotilla consists of 41 boats more than 100 feet in length; but, as we shall have occasion to see later on, torpedoes were of not much importance in the Yalu battle, owing to the manner in which it was fought, and few of those were present.
The principal dock-yard and naval arsenal of Japan is at Yokosuka; and the whole country is divided into two naval districts or departments, each subject to a vice-minister under the naval minister at Tokio, the capital. The discipline and regulations of the Japanese fleet are modelled upon those of Europe and America much more closely than that of China, and the ships are manned by efficient and well-trained crews, who have excellent and well-instructed officers. So many of the population are engaged in maritime pursuits—either in the fishery or in coasting and carrying on the active communication between the islands composing the empire—that there is a large reserve of hardy, seasoned men to draw upon for service in the navy.
Many of the officers have been educated abroad, some of them being graduates of our own Naval Academy at Annapolis, where, as a rule, they have always stood well in their classes in spite of the difficulty of carrying on their studies in a foreign language. These naval cadets were received at the request of the Japanese government and wore the uniform and were treated in precisely the same way as our own cadet midshipmen, but the Japanese government paid all their expenses.
Thus, though apparently weaker than the Chinese fleet, except in the matter of swift cruisers, the Japanese navy had qualities which gave it the real, practical advantage in the battle of the Yalu. More than ever has it confirmed the theory that speed is the greatest requisite in the sea-fighting of the present day; for it was the swiftness of the Japanese vessels which gained them the advantage in the first place, seconded by rapid and accurate gun-fire.
We shall see that torpedoes had not much opportunity for action, and when used by the Chinese (rather clumsily), failed in taking effect, while there was no use of the ram at all—a manner of offence which many looked to see exemplified in the first great naval battle.
The great sea-fight at the Yalu will not be completely elucidated for some time to come—probably many months—but we know enough about it to be able to give its leading features, mostly from the report made to the Japanese Emperor by an aide of Admiral Ito, who commanded the fleet of Japanese vessels.
This fleet had been for several days in the estuary of Ping-Yang, in the Bay of Korea, co-operating with the land forces upon the river Ta-Tong. On the morning of September 16th the Admiral was advised that Ping-Yang had been captured, and he at once got under way, proceeding to the northward with eleven ships, the names of which have already been given, and the Saikio, a light-armed vessel having on board Admiral Kabiyama, who was senior to Ito, but who did not assume command, as he was only upon a tour of inspection and his vessel was not intended for fighting. The ships were in two divisions.
On the 17th, in the bay of Takuchao, on the coast of Manchouria, they discovered the Chinese fleet, of fourteen ships and four torpedo-boats. It was then about mid-day. As the opposing forces rapidly approached each other it was seen that the Chinese were coming out of the bay in a formation not unlike a closed crescent or wide V; the Japanese fleet being in line abreast, with the Admiral in the centre in the Matsushima. The little Saikio also took place in line, in spite of her feeble armament.
When about 4000 metres distant the Chinese Admiral and some other of his vessels opened fire, but the Japanese waited until the distance had decreased to 3000 metres before making any reply. Even then they fired but a few shots, after which Admiral Ito, seeing that the Chinese retained their peculiar and very disadvantageous formation, signalled to the van squadron to attack the enemy on the right and the rear squadron to attack the left. At the same time he ordered the Akagi and the Saikio to get on the port or outer side of the rear squadron, for safety. The presence of the two large and heavily plated German-built battle-ships in the Chinese fleet convinced Admiral Ito that he would have to fight the battle under full steam, and, by attacking the Chinese on their flanks, break their formation and throw them into confusion. Seeing that he was exposing first one wing and then the other of his fleet to a concentrated fire which he could only partially return, Admiral Ting now tried to get his vessels into line, and a tremendous cannonade ensued, at a distance varying from a mile to a mile and a half. The ocean fairly shook as the ships swept on, rapidly firing pieces of heavy modern ordnance. The Chinese vessels presented a strange appearance, for not a moving man could be seen upon their upper decks, nor were there any boats at their davits or on their decks. It was said that they had purposely left their boats behind to prevent their crews from deserting.
At first the Chinese fire was fairly accurate; but that of the Japanese, coolly handled, and with the newest pattern of guns, had a terrible precision. The wheeling movement of the Japanese on the right and left flanks, and the terrific effect of their rapid-fire guns, seemed to throw the line of their enemies into disorder and to demoralize their gunners.
During this tremendous and incessant fire one of the Chinese vessels, the Lai-Yuen, an armored cruiser, was badly injured, and the Japanese particularly concentrated their fire upon her as well as others of the Chinese fleet which seemed to be damaged. The Lai-Yuen then began to get low in the water, but her gunners continued to fire almost to the last, when she sank, stern foremost. As her stern went under, her bows rose out of the water, and she is said to have remained in this position for about a minute and a half before she finally disappeared. This fine vessel was sunk by shot, as not a torpedo had been discharged. Then came the turn of the Tschi-Yuen, which showed signs of being in trouble, and with a concentrated fire directed upon her she soon sank, with every soul on board.
While the rear of the Japanese main squadron was turning the left of the Chinese the Hi-Yei came so close to the latter that, to avoid receiving their fire broadside on, she left the main squadron and steamed straight for the Chinese line, passing between the two large ironclads, the Ting-Yuen and Lai-Yuen. Both these great floating forts fired at her as she passed, and also launched two torpedoes, both of which missed, and on went the Hi-Yei, cheering and firing from both batteries. She had a great number of killed and wounded, but had passed more than half-way through, without serious damage to hull or machinery, when a shell from one of the battle-ships hit her aft, about three feet above the water line, and shattered her mizzenmast and killed her paymaster, both her surgeons, all the medical attendants, the men at the spare steering-gear, and many of the powder division. These were all in the ward-room, which was the surgeon’s quarters in action. Besides this damage the shell set her on fire, and her commander, named Sakurai, was obliged to run out of the line of fire until he could subdue the flames.
The Saikio, which was only a steamer of commerce turned into an armed vessel, had a somewhat similar experience with the two great Chinese ironclads. A shell from the Ting-Yuen struck her and destroyed her steering apparatus, so that she had to withdraw from the line of battle, steering as well as she could by means of her screw propellers. It was evident that the Chinese thought she was trying to ram, for the two steered apart and made an opening through which the Saikio passed, escaping the torpedoes launched by the Chinese. During these exciting moments the fire slackened a little on both sides, but was renewed, as soon as the little vessel was safely out of the way, with greater force than ever.
By this time the Chinese cruiser Tchao-Yung had become disabled in her machinery, and was forced onto a reef of rock; but she continued to use her guns vigorously against two of the Japanese fleet which had closed with her, the effect of whose fire was such that she soon went down by the head and slipped off to sink in deep water, leaving about two-thirds of her masts above the surface. All of her crew who could do so took refuge in the rigging and raised pitiable yells of distress. But the fighting was still going on so desperately that no assistance could be rendered to these unfortunate people. Then another Chinese ship came to grief, the Yang-Wai, which retired slowly from the battle, evidently hard hit and rolling heavily, while dense masses of smoke came up from her.
Seeing that she was hors de combat, the Japanese did not pursue her. Indeed, the fight was too close to permit them to detach any of their ships. Although they had not suffered so much as the Chinese their damages were very considerable. A shell had struck the Matsushima which had dismounted her forward rapid-fire gun and killed and wounded a number of her crew. The gun was thrown across her deck with such force as to damage the hull of the vessel very considerably. Indeed, as flag-ship, the Matsushima had been the object of particular attention from the Chinese ever since the battle began. She had her commander and her first lieutenant killed and one hundred and twenty of her ship’s company killed and wounded. Yet, in spite of the treatment she had received, she seemed in no danger of sinking.
But Admiral Ito needed a flag-ship in better fighting condition than that to which the Matsushima was reduced, and so he had a boat lowered, and accompanied by his staff passed to the Hashidate and hoisted his flag there. The Japanese cruiser Yoshino bore a very conspicuous part in the engagement; and when her captain perceived that the Hi-Yei was disabled, he manœuvred his ship in such a way as to cover her withdrawal, and then taking her place, attacked her enemy with the greatest vigor. She was struck many times and her forward barbette and gun were seriously damaged, but the damages were promptly repaired, and she was not forced out of action.
During the battle the Chinese tried to use torpedoes several times, but the Japanese kept a good lookout for them, and not one made a hit. The captain of the gun-vessel, Akagi, stationed himself in the foretop and followed all the movements of the Chinese, so that whenever they prepared to launch a torpedo he signalled the fact. But at last a shot struck the mast, cut it in two, and, as it fell to the deck, it killed the captain and the two signal-men who were aloft with him. The first lieutenant assumed command, cleared the wreck, and continued the fight until night put an end to it.
As the evening drew near a dense smoke arose from the ironclad Ting-Yuen and from two of the Chinese cruisers, and they were supposed by the Japanese to be on fire, especially as their batteries had very much slackened and only fired intermittently. But they still held their ground, and it was not until sundown that they were seen to be in full retreat.
The Japanese fleet hauled off seaward, expecting to renew the action in the morning and fearing to follow too closely, perhaps on account of torpedoes, while their speed was necessarily slow, as it had to be regulated by that of their own damaged vessels.
When day dawned not a sign of the Chinese fleet was to be seen. They had made the best of their way to the secure refuge of the naval arsenals and docks at Port Arthur and Wei-hai-wei. Admiral Ito then steamed toward Talu Island, where, aground and abandoned by her officers and crew, they discovered the Yang-Wei. She was at once destroyed by a torpedo, which, it is interesting to remark, was the only one used on the Japanese side during the whole of the operation.
The Japanese fleet then repaired to the rendezvous off the mouth of the Ta-Tong River, from whence the Akagi, Matsushima, Hi-Yei, and Saikio were sent home for repairs, Admiral Ito’s flag being on board the Hashidate, where it had been transferred while the action was in progress.
On September 23d the Japanese fleet, reconnoitring the neighborhood of Port Arthur, discovered the Chinese cruiser Kuang-Ki on shore in Talien-Wan Bay, and, as the Japanese drew near, they saw the Chinese abandon and blow her to pieces.
This was the fifth war-ship lost by the Chinese since the beginning of the battle of the Yalu. Though some were much damaged, not a Japanese vessel was lost. Twelve Japanese officers and 98 men were killed, and 13 officers and 170 men were wounded. The Chinese loss, including those who were drowned, was estimated at 2000; but the exact number will probably never be known. From the accounts of eye-witnesses the sea was full of drowning Chinamen at the time the three vessels were sunk during the battle, and few could have been saved, as the severest fighting was going on and the Chinese vessels, as we have said above, had no boats.
The condition of the Chinese fleet, when it had with difficulty reached Port Arthur under cover of night, was most deplorable. The ironclad Ting-Yuen had more than 200 holes in her made by projectiles, but her armored belt was not seriously damaged, the heaviest dents not being much more than a few inches deep. Her sister ship, the Chen-Yuen, was less frequently struck; but the damage she sustained was more important. She almost sunk before she could be secured at her safe anchorage, being several feet by the head. According to the Chinese accounts, it was the rapid-fire guns of comparatively small calibre which inflicted such serious injury.
The captain of one of our American war-ships on the Asiatic station, in describing a visit to the Japanese field-hospital, near Nagasaki, says: “There I got a fair conception of the killing and wounding qualities of the small-bore rifle that all Europe is adopting. The Japanese infantry arm is the Murata, the invention of General Murata, now Chief of Ordnance of Japan. The calibre of the gun is .315, and the bullet weighs 235 grains. I saw a Chinese officer who had been struck in the knee-joint by one of these bullets, fired at a distance of about 1000 yards. The thin steel envelope of the bullet had broken, and the joint was simply a mass of finely comminuted bone splinters. The knee was perfectly soft, without a bone in it unbroken an inch long. Of course, the leg had to be amputated.
“The hospital was the admiration of the French and English surgeons as well as our own. The medical staff were all Japanese who had graduated in medicine and surgery either in America or England, then taken a post-graduate surgical course in clinics at the Paris and Berlin hospitals. They had the best modern instruments and systems, the newest antiseptics—everything a hospital on modern lines should have. And all this is the work of a generation. Truly, the Japanese is a wonderful man.
“I saw something, too, of the effect of the modern shell fire on the cruiser of the period at the battle of the Yalu River’s mouth. The Akagi was hit several times by eight-inch shells of the Vavasour-Palliser pattern. One of these, fired from the Chinese cruiser Chin-Yuen, tore off nearly one-half the iron and steel port-quarter of the Akagi, killed Captain Sakamato, her commander, and killed and wounded a dozen more officers and men. A second shell, from a 200-pounder, made a hole eight feet in diameter in the side of the Akitsu. Had the service of the Chinese great guns been equal to that of the Japanese, the Akagi, the Hashidate, and Matsushima must have been sunk. The Japanese fire was terribly accurate and deadly. The Chinese ship Chen-Yuen was hit nearly one hundred times. Nothing was left above water of her; of her crew, 460 strong, over 350 were killed or died of wounds. All this was from the fire of six-inch and eight-inch rifles, at a distance from 1000 to 1600 yards. The Chinese had the heavier ships at Yalu, but the Japanese out-manœuvred them and out-fought them. Man for man, and ship for ship, my professional opinion is that the Japanese commanders are equal to any in Europe. They have courage, a high professional knowledge, and a fierce fighting spirit that nothing daunts.”
The paper from which this report is taken adds that the American commanders attribute much of Japan’s success to the fact that so many of her naval officers were educated at the Naval Academy at Annapolis.
The following description of the condition of things on the decks of Admiral Ting’s flag-ship Chen-Yuen, after her fight with the two Japanese cruisers Naniwa and Yoshino, was sent to an English paper by an officer of the British squadron at Chefoo: “The slaughter has been awful, blood and human remains being scattered over the decks and guns. Three of the five men working the four-ton gun in the after-turret were blown to pieces by a six-inch shell from one of the Naniwa’s quick-firing guns, and a fourth was shot down while attempting to leave the turret. The remaining gunner stuck to his post and managed to load and fire three rounds at the Naniwa, and, one shell entering her engine room and another blowing her forebridge away, she hauled off. The Chinese Admiral awarded the plucky gunner 1000 taels. One shell struck the Chen-Yuen’s steel deck and, glancing off, passed up through the conning-tower and exploded, blowing the gunnery lieutenant to pieces and leaving his head hanging on one of the voice-pipes. Huge fragments of armor and backing had been torn from their fastenings and carried inboard, crushing a number of poor wretches into shapeless masses, even the upper part of the funnels being splashed with blood. An engineer officer (European) was sent for to repair the steam-pipe of the steering-engine, and tried to grope his way through the smoke of bursting shells and heaps of killed and wounded lying on the deck, when a shot struck his assistant and disembowelled him, covering the engineer with blood. He nevertheless managed to reach the steering-engine and repaired the pipe, for which he received a rather handsome reward from the Admiral. This engagement lasted about one and a quarter hours, when the Japanese hauled off and the Chen-Yuen made the best of her way to Wei-hai-wei, their naval station, where she arrived the next day in just the same condition as she had left the scene of action, no attempt having been made to wash away the blood or remove the dead bodies.”
A French writer, in speaking of the battle, says: “As was to be expected, recriminations were rife among the officers of the defeated fleet. Each one tried to throw the responsibility upon his neighbor, while the captains were the objects of all sorts of reproaches, some of them being charged with downright cowardice. But, if his subaltern officers failed in their duty, Admiral Ting cannot avoid the greater part of the responsibility for the defeat. During the years that he has commanded the fleet in the Gulf of Pe-chi-li he has not known how to make it a naval force worthy of the name. The fire of his ships was more than mediocre, and the Japanese, in that respect, had a vast advantage over the Chinese gunners. On the other hand, this general officer has proved himself absolutely ignorant of the general principles of naval tactics. He hastily got under way and took a formation in the shape of a closed crescent, something like a V, which no sailor before him ever dreamed of doing; his ships mutually paralyzed each other, and at a glance Admiral Ito took in the situation and overwhelmed the branches of the V, one after the other.
“Admiral Ting would only have been excusable if he had not had time to form line of battle; but in this case he must be reproached for not having lookout vessels far enough away, as he must have known that the conditions were favorable for Japanese vessels to make raids in the Gulf of Pe-chi-li and the Bay of Korea. He appears to have known nothing of the movements of his enemy, and if he took any interest in them it was purely a speculative one. Personally, Admiral Ting conducted himself with bravery; but personal courage is not the only requisite in those on whom is conferred the fearful responsibility of chief command.”
To sum up the result, the battle of the Yalu was won by guns, on fast ships-by guns alone, just as in former naval engagements; for neither torpedoes nor rams played any part. If the Japanese torpedo-boats had been present, it is quite likely that the destruction would have been greater. The Japanese guns were a little more modern than those of the Chinese.
The Japanese had among their artillery some large Canet guns and Armstrong rapid-fire guns of moderate calibre. The Chinese had Krupp and Armstrong guns of more ancient model, and it would appear that the only rapid-fire guns they possessed were of very small calibre—such as are intended for defence against torpedo-boats, of which the Japanese had none in the battle.
The Chinese fleet showed great want of concerted movement, and as a consequence a defective formation—a lack in the commanding officers of ability in manœuvring—and the crews were insufficiently drilled. When the Matsushima received such injuries that Admiral Ito was obliged to shift his flag to the Hashidate, there must have been a period of hesitation and delay among the Japanese ships, but Admiral Ting does not appear to have taken advantage of it. He either did not see it or he did not know how to profit by it.
The Japanese, on the other hand, showed admirable decision, and took the offensive with a precise and definite knowledge of what they wished to accomplish, while their Admiral, by a manœuvre worthy of all praise, concentrated the whole of his force upon each wing of his enemy’s fleet in succession. Their crews were well drilled and instructed and full of patriotic ardor, all having the same end in view—to win the battle at all costs. This is always the case when battles are won, either at sea or on land. Victory is the reward of worthy effort and methodical preparation. The Japanese have appreciated and adopted European methods, have assimilated Western ideas, and put them in practice with an ability which is the more astonishing when we consider that thirty years ago they were armed with the weapons of feudal days.
It was reserved for the last comer into the family of nations—the last to assume fellowship—to give lessons to the rest in the art of naval warfare.
No doubt, if two first-class European or American fleets had cannonaded each other for five long hours, as the Japanese and Chinese did at the Yalu, there would have been even more terrible destruction; but the deduction is nevertheless to be made, from the late battle, that the victory was won by the side which knew best how to prepare for it. The lesson it teaches to all nations is the necessity of careful preparation and sedulous training. Modern men-of-war take a long time to build and modern arms a long time to construct, while the training of an efficient ship’s company takes almost equally long, even when good and conscientious officers devote to it their best abilities.
After the date of the battle of the Yalu, events of great import and influence upon the course of the war followed each other with great rapidity, and the telegraph conveyed to the Western world reports of marches, battles and sieges, in which, however, the Japanese navy bore only a secondary but still very important part.
The Chinese, weakened in vessels and depressed in spirit by their losses at the Yalu, did not attempt any further naval operations.
In the latter part of November one of the Japanese armies captured Port Arthur, with its fortifications, which were almost impregnable if well defended. The fruit of this capture was the fine docks, plenty of naval stores, and repairing tools and material, ammunition, guns, and several vessels undergoing repairs in consequence of injuries received in battle. This important operation was effected by the land forces of Japan, assisted by the navy, which occupied the attention of some of the seaward Chinese forts, and also prevented the escape of several vessels and of a portion of the garrison.
The Japanese proceeded at once to remove the torpedoes and submarine mines planted to protect the entrance of the harbor, and at once became busily engaged, without the loss of a day, in reorganizing the construction and repairs shops, and in availing themselves of the facilities offered by the fine dry docks—built at so much cost by their enemy.
Transports, with provisions and the latest reserves, soon began to arrive at this most advantageous naval base, particularly so for the Japanese fleet, which patrolled the Gulf of Pe-chi-li, both to prevent interference with their transport service and to keep open communication with the army of Field Marshal Yamagata as it approached Moukden, the ancient city of the North, the place of sepulture of the ruling dynasty of China and the site of their principal treasury. It is held in much greater reverence than Pekin, the political capital, which has twice been occupied by foreign armies—those of the French and of the English.
At one time during the early part of the war there was a disposition shown by England to interfere in the struggle and to endeavor to put an end to a state of things which seriously interfered with her commerce and promised to affect it still more seriously in the future. But the remarkable ability and power shown by Japan, and the failure to persuade other nations to join in an armed intervention before the Chinese were forced to sue for peace at any price, put an end to the plan.
In the meantime the northern provinces of China fell almost into a state of anarchy. The troops and their generals could not be depended upon to successfully defend any position, no matter how strong, while banditti, composed of stragglers, deserters and the scum of the population, ravaged the country, and operated with almost complete impunity in the very environs of Pekin.
A foreigner who had been employed in the Chinese customs service was despatched to Japan to endeavor to negotiate some sort of armistice, with a view to peace negotiations; but the Japanese Minister of Foreign Affairs refused to have any communication of so irregular a character, and the official was sent off with scant courtesy.
After this came the intervention, as negotiators, of the American Ministers at Pekin and Tokio—both officials of great length of service and experience in their positions—with proposals for a peace founded upon the granting to Japan of a large money indemnity, as well as a territorial concession which would add largely to the extent of that empire.
But, after some tentative proceedings, this well-intended intervention failed, as the Japanese seemed determined that the Chinese Emperor should sue directly for peace, which their success in the conduct of the war entitled them to demand.
The Emperor of Japan is a tremendously hard-worked ruler, and a good business man. He watches closely the Japanese, as well as the foreign press, and passes over, as a rule, ordinary misstatements or criticisms; but if a newspaper becomes at all dangerous he gives an order to his censors, and the newspaper is stopped, while the editors are liable to imprisonment. As he has the appointment of a large number of members of parliament, and the constitution is so adroitly worded that he is still the almost absolute ruler of Japan, there was probably not much delay in the voting of war measures and supplies.
The Crown Prince, who is not the son of the Empress, but of one of the secondary wives, was sixteen years old in September, 1894, and is said to be a bright lad, of dark complexion, like his father, with almond eyes and face of the most pronounced Japanese type. He is of an erect figure and fond of military pursuits. He has been educated in the Nobles’ school, and has studied French and English. The Emperor is taller than most of his subjects, very dark, with a long face and heavy features. Except in complexion the son is not very much like his father, his face being rounder and shorter. There have been one hundred and twenty-one Emperors of Japan, all of the same family. The first one governed the country just about twenty-five hundred years ago. “He was on the throne long before Julius Cæsar aspired to be Emperor of Rome, and three hundred years before Alexander the Great thought he had conquered the world. The Japanese have the history of all of their Emperors from that time down to this, and they will assure you that the Mikado is a lineal descendant of the first Emperor, whose name was Jimmu Tenno.
“Any other royal family would have run out in less than this time, especially in an isolated country like Japan but the Japanese have a law by which the Emperor cannot marry one of his own family. He has to marry the daughter of one of the court nobles, and the Empress is, therefore, not of royal blood.”
It is interesting to us, as Americans, to recall the fact that, while China and Japan were thus grappling in the throes of war, important diplomatic work, of a peaceful character, was going on between ourselves and each of the contending powers. The treaty signed with China arranged many important points which had been long at issue between us and them; but the most important action was the Convention between the United States and Japan, signed about the 1st of December, 1894, at Washington, by Secretary of State Gresham and Minister Kurino, as Plenipotentiaries on behalf of their respective governments.
This Convention supplants the Treaty of 1858, already alluded to, in which Japan was dealt with as a barbarous nation, and that of 1866, by which the United States, Great Britain, France, and the Netherlands established Japan’s customs tariff for her. The United States, alone of all nations, has, of late years, insisted upon Japan’s complete autonomy in foreign as well as domestic affairs; in taxes and tariff duties, as well as in judicial jurisdiction—none of which she had enjoyed under the old treaties.
Copyright, W. H. Rau.
Deck of U. S. S. Indiana.
In the foreground are two of her 13-inch breech loading rifles, and two of her 8-inch guns are shown on the right. It costs to fire one of the former, with tooled steel projectile, $700. The Indiana is capable of giving combat to any vessel afloat.