“I certainly do not sympathize with the Russians,” returned Gilbert bluntly. “They have caused me a good lot of trouble, and now it looks as if I, or rather the company I represent, was going to lose a lot of money through them.” And here Gilbert told as much of his tale as he thought the ship’s commander would care to hear.
As soon as those who were in the rowboats were taken on board every light on the deck was extinguished and a little later all of the sails were hoisted. Running in such absolute darkness was dangerous, but no more so than to show a light and thus invite a shot from one of the forts or from a Russian man-o’-war. Two men were kept at the bow, each doing his best to see what was ahead, and thus give warning of danger, should any appear.
By daybreak the snowstorm was over, and at ten o’clock in the morning the sun came out brightly, making it much warmer than it had been. The O-Taka was now out of sight of land, and steering a straight course for the southern extremity of Korea and for Nagasaki, about two hundred miles beyond. The wind was favorable, and with every sail set the vessel plowed through the waters of the Yellow Sea with surprising swiftness.
Roughly estimated, the sailing distance from Port Arthur to Nagasaki is almost seven hundred miles, the route being past the Shan-tung Promontory and Quelpart Island. Of course, much depends upon the winds, which are highly variable in these quarters, but the captain of the O-Taka expected to make the trip inside of a week, unless the weather proved unusually foul.
The one anxiety on board was concerning provisions. It had been impossible to procure anything in the shape of meat or vegetables, and the quantity of rice, flour, and salt fish was limited, as was also the quantity of drinking water. Everybody was put on short rations from the start. At this the Japanese refugees did not grumble, being satisfied to get away from their enemy at any cost, and Gilbert had sense enough likewise to remain silent.
With all their hardships the Japanese were a cheerful lot, and frequently beguiled the time by singing, and by playing on several stringed instruments which had been brought along. One comic song of the day, called “The Man Who Sailed on a Whale,” was a great favorite, especially with the children. The national songs were also sung, the sailors joining in the refrains with a will.
Three days passed, and only some distant sails were sighted, none of which attempted to draw near them. Once the lookout detected a great smoke to the northeast, and this smoke was thought to come from the funnels of Russian warships. At once the course was changed due south, and soon the smoke was left behind.
So far since the snowstorm the weather had been fine, but on the night of the third day the atmosphere grew heavy, and by midnight the snow was coming down once more in heavy flakes, which all but obliterated the view on all sides of the ship. The lookouts were doubled, and as the wind increased, the sails were slightly trimmed.
“This is not so pleasant,” said Gilbert to Jiru Siko, as both turned out in the morning.
“One must take the copper with the silver,” responded the Japanese. “Lucky to get away from Russians—sink ship, what we do den, you say?”