In the outer harbour the Pacific Ocean squadron was lying, steam up and cleared for action, waiting the order to go out and engage the enemy. When, at 10 a.m., the Boyarin, having returned to harbour, signalled that the Japanese fleet was approaching in force, the Viceroy and General Stössel, escorted by a troop of Cossacks, and followed by a numerous suite, went up on to Golden Hill. It certainly was to be hoped that General Stössel, to whom the Emperor had entrusted the Fortress, and who had recently reported to him that it was ready, would 'keep calm' and do his duty 'in the most efficient manner'; but those who were privileged to see him on that historic morning saw no traces of calmness in his demeanour.
After about an hour the presence of the whole Japanese fleet on the horizon was signalled, but the majority of the people knew nothing, and all was quiet in the town. A little later and Port Arthur was paralysed with fear, for the very ground quivered with the shock as the guns of both fleets and of the coast batteries suddenly opened fire. The battle had begun, and the fleet of young Japan, a nation which had only begun to take lessons in Western culture thirty-two years ago, was pitted against that of Russia—founded two hundred years ago by Peter the Great.
In twenty minutes' time 12-inch shells were detonating in the streets of the town, and the population began to flee in panic to the hills. The battle waxed, but there was curious silence on Liao-tieh-shan and Quail Hills—two peaks which commanded the ground all round Port Arthur. The first was armed with a lighthouse and the second with a fire observation-tower! In spite of the fire, but little damage was done on either side—the enemy could not hurt Electric Cliff and Golden Hill, and the bark of our shore batteries was worse than their bite, owing to the short range of their guns. Indeed, owing to lack of guns and ammunition, some of our batteries were actually firing blank, whilst others maintained a haughty silence. Though Russia did not then know of this, the Japanese did, but, with their natural cunning, held their tongues. The British knew of it, and chuckled whilst they kept silence for their allies.
Just before noon the bombardment ceased, and the Japanese fleet steamed off. The first wild panic subsided and the little railway-station was soon crowded with fugitives, all anxious to depart.
What the Viceroy, Alexeieff, said to Stössel that day is hidden by a veil of obscurity, but that he decided to remove him from the post of General admits of not the slightest doubt, for Lieutenant-General Konstantine Nikolaevitch Smirnoff was chosen by the War Minister to supersede Stössel as Commandant, and left Warsaw for Port Arthur on February 25.
SETTLING DOWN TO IT
From that day onwards Port Arthur was, after dusk, plunged in complete darkness, the screened windows and deserted streets giving an ominous impression of desolation. The town became noticeably empty, though numerous families, anxious to share the fate of husbands and fathers, were still allowed to remain. In spite of the Viceroy's order (No. 49) that all families should be sent out of the besieged Fortress, General Stössel made no effort to enforce this. In vain it was pointed out that women—except nurses—and children are a most undesirable element in a fortress: he took no action.