About nine o'clock the quiet of evening was broken by the growing noise of heavy firing at sea. The fleet, attacked by a cloud of torpedo-boats, and firing with every gun, was retiring rapidly to Arthur. It was not yet visible, but the booming of the 12-inchers, the ceaseless cracking of the smaller guns, sounded louder and louder. We saw the reflection of the searchlights, and then some time later dim specks gradually loomed up, and the squadron itself appeared; the destroyers and Novik formed a rear-guard, covering the retirement with their fire. The fleet steamed in and anchored, let down its torpedo-nets, and with its searchlights wove a regular net of light to seaward. On the way back to port it had been twice attacked by destroyers, but had beaten them off, and had made the outer roads comparatively without mishap. The Sevastopol alone distinguished herself. Getting out of column, she struck a mine and was injured, but was able to reach White Wolf's Bay and anchor. There was not enough water for her to go into the inner harbour, for no one had thought in peace-time of dredging the entrance.
Night soon came down very dark, and all seemed peaceful; but the calm did not last long, for that night the enemy made a madly gallant attempt to torpedo our vessels as they lay in the outer harbour, and hell was let loose. All night long Admiral Togo launched his destroyers to the attack in pairs. Though our whole fleet was one blaze of light, and though the shore searchlights perched up on high lit up the waters to a great distance, the heroic enemy did not desist. On, on they came, fired at from the whole front as the shore lights showed them up afar off; diving one moment into darkness, the next again into the glare, they dashed onwards. The fire of the ships became furious; the ceaseless flash of the guns made them look like torches, but, however brave, however fanatical the enemy, they could not withstand the hail of steel poured on them by the fleet. The destroyers came in very close before they fired their torpedoes, but still it was at ineffective range. Having fired the first torpedo, they turned to starboard, firing a second on the turn, and then at full speed steamed out to sea. The lucky ones got away; others sank in view of the whole Fortress. I sat through the night and watched these attacks till they ceased at dawn.
Next morning, on the flood-tide, our fleet came in to the inner harbour. It had returned, the only result of its sortie being the injuries to the Sevastopol, the expenditure of thousands of shell, and a number of Whitehead torpedoes floating about in the outer Roads. Arthur was disappointed. The following order, issued by the Commander of the fleet before it went to sea, which appeared in the Novy Kry of the 24th, was depressing reading:
'As the ships which were damaged by our treacherous enemy before the outbreak of war have been repaired, the Viceroy has given orders for the fleet to put to sea, so as to assist our comrades on land to defend Arthur. By the help of God and St. Nicholas, the sailor's patron saint, we will endeavour to do our duty, be true to our oath to the Tsar and defeat the enemy, weakened by the destruction of some of his ships on our mines. The Bobr has given us an example of what can be done. May God be with us!
'Witgeft, Rear-Admiral.'
The fleet was there again in its usual place in the western and eastern basins; but what was to be done? Who was to blame because it had returned without having brought on a decisive action? Some of the officers declared that a battle ought to have been brought on, that all the chances were in our favour; others said the opposite, asserting that a heavy engagement would have been the end of the whole fleet. Arthur was divided into two camps: one against the navy, the other in defence of it. I remember those heated quarrels about our naval officers, and the abuse poured upon men who were in no way to blame. The majority of those who spoke so bitterly of the fleet's return ignored the fact that it went to sea very weakly armed. It had met the Japanese fleet of four battleships, six armoured cruisers, six light cruisers, and a number of destroyers and other vessels, about twelve miles out. The fleets got within fifty or sixty cables of each other, and when our ships increased speed so as to shorten the range and bring on an action, the Japanese steamed off. Togo evidently wanted to entice our fleet on and make a torpedo attack during the night, and having thus weakened it, to bring on a decisive engagement in the morning. It was depressing to see our ships driven in again like this, and disheartening to give up all hope of obtaining command of the sea. A strict blockade of the Fortress must come in the future. How long it would last no one could say, but that men, guns, and war material were already scarce with us—more than scarce—we well knew. Still, the hatred shown towards the fleet was not sensible or just. Disappointed with our many misfortunes, people were searching for a scape-goat—for some one on whom they could vent their indignation. They became jumpy, and therefore in no condition to look at things calmly: they were glad to find some one to blame. From what I felt, heard, and saw on all sides—and my opportunities for judging were great, as I moved about in every grade of society in Port Arthur—I came to the conclusion, after the return of the fleet, that its rôle on the sea was over.
During the gradual development of the military situation in the district—when the most prominent features had been the extraordinary errors on the part of General Fock—General Stössel was acting the dictator in Arthur, where, in addition to his main task of interfering at every step with the useful work of General Smirnoff, he lost no opportunity of sowing dissension between the fleet and the army, especially after the squadron's unlucky sortie. Everywhere on shore—in the streets, in the restaurants—there was nothing but abuse and curses for the naval officers, from highest to lowest. Every one accused the sailors of not wishing to put to sea. One result of this was the production of a scurrilous allegory by two anonymous authors. The first described a dream, which he pretended to have had, and in which the enemy, in the shape of a bull, was eventually killed by Russian soldiers. The second narrated another dream, a sequel to the first, in which the navy were represented as hares which bolted and left the soldiers to fight the enemy alone. I happened to read this effusion when I was on board one of the ships, for some one had had it lithographed, and sent a copy to each of the ward-rooms in the fleet, including a copy to Admiral Witgeft. This kind act naturally did not tend to smooth matters between the services. Though the sailors endeavoured to ignore it, at heart they felt the undeserved insult deeply.
FORTIFYING OUR LINE