It was a pledge. When little, tender fingers had fastened it in its place, little moving lips had whispered in my ear, “Till peace is signed!”
I had decided to return to the capital of what was now the country of my enemies, by much the same route as I had left it.
To do so, it was necessary to run the blockade of Port Arthur, or rather to feign to do so, for the Japanese Minister of Marine had been asked by my friend Katahashi to give secret instructions to Admiral Togo on my behalf.
In order to ensure a welcome from the Russian commander, and to dispel any suspicions, I planned to take in a cargo of Welsh steam coal.
Through an agent at Yokohama I chartered a British collier lying at Chi-fu, with a cargo for disposal. Leaving the Japanese port on a steamer bound for Shanghai, I met the collier in mid-ocean, and transferred myself on board her.
As soon as I had taken command, I ordered the skipper to head for Port Arthur.
This was the first intimation to him that he was expected to run the blockade, and at first he refused.
“I’m not afraid—myself,” the sturdy Briton declared, “but I’ve got a mixed crew on board, Germans and Norwegians and Lascars, and all sorts, and I can’t rely on them if we get in a tight place.”
I glanced around at the collection of foreign faces and drew the captain aside. He, at least, was an Englishman, and I therefore trusted him.
“There is no danger, really,” I said. “Admiral Togo has had secret orders to let me through. This cargo is merely a pretext.”