Under the Mikado's flag

by Edward Stratemeyer

On the west coast of Korea is the harbor and town of Chemulpo, a place of considerable importance, with a valuable shipping interest. About the time when negotiations at St. Petersburg were broken off there were in the harbor two Russian warships, a fine protected cruiser of 6500 tons, named the Varyag, and an old-style gunboat, called the Korietz, of use mainly for coast defense.

On the eighth of February a Russian boat carrying army and navy stores arrived at Chemulpo and reported having sighted a number of warships at a distance. The ships were supposed to be Japanese, and to make certain the commander of the Korietz went out to reconnoiter. The approaching ships proved to be a Japanese squadron under command of Admiral Uriu. The squadron consisted of a battleship, four cruisers, and seven torpedo boats, all of which were acting as a convoy to a number of transports carrying twenty-five hundred Japanese soldiers.

At the sight of the enemy the old Korietz was cleared for action, and a gun fired—whether as a signal to lay-to, or as an opening shot of war, is not definitely settled. But be that as it may, the shot was immediately answered by the Japanese, who discharged two torpedoes at the presumptuous old gunboat. Seeing this, the Korietz lost no time in returning to the protection of Chemulpo harbor.

Night was now coming on, and under cover of the darkness the Japanese transports succeeded in making a landing, and all of the Japanese soldiers went ashore. As soon as they were in a position to resist a possible attack, the Japanese squadron steamed out to sea.

It is possible that those on the Russian warships thought they would be free of their enemy, but early in the morning came a communication from Admiral Uriu, stating that war between the two nations had been declared, and that the Russian ships must either come out on the high seas and fight or be attacked where they lay in the harbor.

“Weak as we are, we will go out and fight them,” said the Russian commander, who must be admired for his great bravery, and not long after this the Varyag steamed out, followed by the old Korietz. Those on board knew that they were going almost to certain doom, yet they put on a brave front, the band playing church hymns and the national anthem, and the jackies singing lustily.

With such an advantage on one side the fight could not long endure, and within half an hour the Varyag, trying in vain to inflict damage on her more numerous enemy, was riddled with shot and shell and set on fire. The old Korietz, hardly noticed by the Japanese warships, was also struck, and at last both steamed back to the harbor, where the wounded and dying were cared for. That neither ship might fall into the possession of the enemy, the Varyag was scuttled, and the Korietz blown up. The Russian transport that had first sighted the enemy was burned.

The coast was now clear for landing all the troops the Mikado cared to send to Korea, and the squadron steamed away to convoy more transports hither. How this work went on we shall learn in the near future.

Instead of abating the snowstorm increased in violence, and by ten o’clock that night the wind was blowing a perfect gale. In that quarter of the Yellow Sea a gale means something, and the O-Taka was tossed about like a feather on the high rolling waves. Many of the women and children on board were sick, and even some of the men suffered.

“Very much bad storm,” sighed Jiru Siko, to Gilbert. “Ship look he would turn down side up—all things go hop-hop in cabin—Jiru Siko go hop-hop inside—he think he going to lose his liver.”