And how the news stirred the troops! Men broke into snatches of song, then shouted and yelled “Banzai!” until they choked. In the field-hospitals the wounded, trying to rise from their canvas stretchers, joined in the cheering with thin, weak voices. At night wood fires were lit all round the hills, and many of the Russian garrison left their dismal forts and came down to sip saké (rice wine), and after spending a night of carousal with their late enemies, the big, burly foemen of the North were glad to be helped homewards by their polite hosts, who bowed on leaving them and hoped they would not suffer from the after-effects of Japanese hospitality.
Astonishing, too, was the effect of the good news on the wounded. Desperately wounded men crawled over the stony hills and walked to the hospitals without aid. If you said to one such, “You are badly hurt; let me give you an arm,” he smiled proudly, and said with a salute, “No, no; Port Arthur has fallen!”
One man who had been shot in the head, and whose right arm had been smashed to pieces by a shell, walked to the dressing-station, had his arm amputated and his head dressed, and then walked two miles further to the field-hospital. The news was too good for him to think of his own pain. Another man had a bullet through his chest. He walked two miles to the hospital; there he coolly asked the surgeon if he thought he might live. The surgeon, though he knew the man’s case was hopeless, said, “Oh yes; but” (after a pause) “if you have any letter you wish written, do it at once.” The soldier replied, “All I desire is that a letter should be written to my mother.” No sooner had he uttered these words than he fell dead on the spot. It reminds one of a young Lieutenant in Browning’s poem, who had ridden with dispatches to Napoleon. “Why, my boy, you are wounded!” “Nay, sire; I am killed.”
In the harbour at Port Arthur there were riding at anchor five battleships and two cruisers. On the 10th of August they had gone out to meet Admiral Togo, and had returned next day badly damaged.
By the 1st of September they had been repaired. But on November the 27th began a tremendous battle for the possession of 203 Metre Hill. On the 5th of December that hill was taken at a fearful cost of lives, and a Japanese naval Lieutenant wormed his way into the shallow trench and by help of his nautical instruments was able to take observations and give the correct direction and distance to the artillery commander, who at once trained Howitzers on the fleet. All the ships were sunk by the 6th of December, with the exception of the Sevastopol, which steamed out under Captain von Essen and anchored under the batteries of Tiger’s Tail.
This brave officer tried to protect his ship by a wooden boom and by torpedo-nets. For three nights he was attacked by Japanese boats and torpedoes, and inflicted great damage on them. At last the boom was pierced and the ship’s steering-gear ruined by a torpedo. The Sevastopol showed signs of settling down, so that night steam was got up for the last time, and the gallant commander with a few picked men took her out into deep water, opened the sluice-cocks, and then, taking to his launch, pulled away a bit and watched the great battleship settle down stern first in the dim and misty moonlight.
It is only right that the pluck of this Russian Captain should be remembered when we think of the poor defence made by the Russian Navy.
As for the rest of the fleet, the battleships and cruisers were huddled together with a strong list and their upper works destroyed. They have since been raised and repaired, and belong to the Mikado.
The siege of Port Arthur cost General Nogi’s army 89,000 men in killed, wounded, and sick; of these 10,000 were officers.
The Japanese have read a great lesson in patriotism and sense of duty to the whole world. To the courtly and feudal chivalry of their old-world Samurai, or Noble, they have added the foresight and inventive genius of the European. They have suddenly sprung into the front rank of civilized nations, and no one can forecast the greatness of their future.