When I went on deck again, the dawn was just brightening the eastern sky, and I then noticed that we seemed to have more than our proper complement of men aboard. Inquiring the reason, I learned that the Kasanumi had picked up the crew of the Fukui Maru, poor Hirose’s ship; and they furnished me with the particulars of the gallant fellow’s heroic death. I also learned that while we had been engaged in the endeavour to block the harbour, our destroyers had been busily employed in sowing further harmless mines, in accordance with the Admiral’s plan to convince the Russians that Japanese mines were useless and need not be feared.
As the daylight strengthened, it revealed our fleet, strung out along the horizon, the Admiral having followed the blocking ships and destroyers upon the off-chance that the Russians might be tempted to come out and attack them, in the event of our failing in our mission.
And at first it appeared as though that chance might be afforded us. For, as we steamed away to the eastward, we saw smoke rising from the funnels of some of the ships in the harbour, and shortly afterward the cruisers Bayan, Novik, and Askold came steaming out, with the battleships following. But it was no go; the Russians opened a long-range fire upon us, to which we gave no reply, slowly retiring instead, in the hope of enticing the enemy’s ships to follow us beyond the cover of their batteries. The Russian Admiral, however, was too wary, refusing to be drawn, and, putting up his helm, he returned to the harbour. Nevertheless, the event was not altogether unprofitable to us, for as the Russian ships re-entered the harbour, the Petropavlosk ran foul of the Sevastopol and damaged her so severely as to render her unfit for further service until she could be repaired.
Meanwhile, the destroyers being no longer required, I devoted myself to the task of reducing to an intelligible state the soundings and measurements which I had that morning taken; and by the time that we were back at our rendezvous I had a little sketch plan of the harbour’s mouth ready for the Admiral, showing the exact width of the gap and the depth of water in it, thus enabling him to determine the precise size of the craft required to fill it. I also volunteered to return and fill up the gap that very night, if he could let me have a ship of the required dimensions. But it appeared that he had no ship that could at that time be spared; consequently the job had to wait.
But Togo was profuse in his thanks for my offer; and was pleased to be exceedingly complimentary in his remarks touching my “gallantry” in the matter of taking the soundings, as also upon our conduct generally in taking in the blocking ships under such a terrific fire and sinking them exactly in the required positions. He expressed great grief at the loss of poor Hirose, who was, without doubt, a remarkably promising officer, and would assuredly have further distinguished himself and gone far, had he lived.
Just before we arrived at our rendezvous that night, our high-pressure cylinder developed a bad crack, possibly through some unsuspected flaw in the casting; and as there were no means of repairing it, except temporarily, where we were, and as in the meantime the boat was useless, I received orders to have the crack patched-up as far as possible, and then to proceed to Sasebo, to have a new cylinder fitted. This mishap involved an absence of the Kasanumi from our rendezvous for ten days; but, as events proved, it did not matter in the least; for the Admiral, doubtless for good and sufficient reasons, now permitted a period of inaction to occur, during which nothing happened beyond the usual watching of Port Arthur harbour. I availed myself of the opportunity thus afforded to have my little ship docked, scraped, and repainted; while my engineer took his engines entirely to pieces, subjected them to a thorough overhaul, and replaced a few brasses and other matters that were showing signs of wear. He also overhauled the boilers, and fitted quite a number of new tubes; so that when at length the boat left the dry dock she was in first-class condition, and ready for any service that could be reasonably asked of her.
I found awaiting me at the post office quite a nice little batch of most cheering and encouraging letters from my friends, the Gordons, to which I duly replied at considerable length, giving them—and especially Ronald—full particulars of my adventures up to date; and the receipt of their letters made me feel that while a man had such staunch friends as they had proved to be, the world was not such a bad place, after all.
We got back to our rendezvous at the Elliot Islands on the afternoon of 9th April, the little Kasanumi looking as smart and spick-and-span as a new pin, her hull, funnels, mast, guns—everything, in fact, except her deck—painted that peculiar tint of medium smoky-grey which experience had proved to render her almost invisible, even in daylight, and absolutely so at night; and the moment that our anchor was down I proceeded aboard the flagship to report myself, and also to deliver mails for the fleet and dispatches for the Admiral, which I had brought with me.
There did not seem to be very much doing at the rendezvous when I arrived, beyond the rebunkering of such craft as needed it; but I noticed a rather smart-looking steamer of about four thousand tons, fitted as a mine-layer, with lighters on both sides of her, out of which a number of very business-like-looking mines were being hoisted.
But when I got aboard the Mikasa, and was shown into the Admiral’s cabin, I found the little gentleman up to his eyes in business, as usual. He dropped his work, however, when I was announced, and, rising from his chair, greeted me in the most hearty and friendly manner; then, bidding me be seated, he asked me how I had spent my time at Sasebo. He expressed the utmost satisfaction with everything that I had done; and presently, when the orderly brought in a bundle of letters and papers from the mail which I had brought, he opened the latter and, selecting from it a particular sheet—the Tokio Asahi, I believe it was—opened it, glanced eagerly at a particular column, and then, with a smile and a pointing finger, handed the sheet to me. It had been opened at the page containing naval intelligence; and glancing at it, I perceived, to my amazement and delight, that I had been gazetted to the rank of Captain, “as from 27th March, in recognition of conspicuous gallantry in connection with the second attempt to close Port Arthur harbour.” The two other surviving skippers had also been similarly promoted.