Under the Ensign of the Rising Sun: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War

by Harry Collingwood

was as instantly checked when they began to realise the full magnitude of the disaster that had befallen their enemy. For even before the sound of the shattering explosion reached our ears we saw her fore topmast fall, saw long tongues of flame leap up from her decks, saw her-two funnels whirl over and fall, one after the other, while her bridge, pilot-house, and foremast soared high into the air; and so tremendous was the force of the explosion that actually one of her 6-inch gun turrets was torn bodily from its strong fastenings and hurled some twenty feet aloft, to crash downward again upon the hapless ship’s deck, while a great burst of flame, probably due to the explosion of her boilers, shot up where her two funnels had stood a moment before. A series of heavy explosions followed, seeming to indicate the explosion of her magazines, and then the doomed ship became enveloped in a thick haze of green smoke, in the midst of which played great streams of fire. Through that terrible green haze we were just able to see that she had taken a heavy list to starboard; then her bows dipped, her stern rose until her two propellers were lifted out of the water, a great mushroom-shaped pillar of smoke shot up from her, and—she was gone! And all this had happened in the short space of two minutes, during which shells from our battleships were falling thick and fast about the Russian ships, which had stopped their engines when the explosion occurred, while some of them lowered boats, in the hope of being able to render assistance to the unfortunate flagship.

With the disappearance of the flagship, the Russian fleet resumed its way toward the harbour, the Pobieda now being at the head of the line. But scarcely had she started her engines when an enormous pillar of flame, water, and smoke enveloped her amidships. She, too, had come into contact with one of our mines, but, fortunately for her, with much less disastrous results than those attending the destruction of the Petropavlosk. She instantly listed, showing that she was severely damaged, but beyond that nothing further happened, so far as we could see, except that the second explosion appeared to have created a perfect panic among the Russians, who immediately opened a terrific fire with every gun, big or small, apparently at random, for we could see the shots throwing up great jets of foam in the water all round them. Later, we learned that when the second explosion occurred, some one aboard one of the ships yelled that the fleet was surrounded by Japanese submarines, discharging torpedoes; hence the frantic firing at the water. Of course the assertion was groundless, since, as a matter of fact, the Japanese had no submarines; but it is not very surprising that, with two disasters, one following so closely upon the heels of the other, the Russians should jump to the conclusion that they had been attacked by submarines; for it must be remembered that we had carefully educated them into the belief that our mines were quite harmless.

The loss of the Petropavlosk was a terrible misfortune for the Russians, for she was one of their most formidable ships; being armed with four 12-inch guns of the most recent design, mounted in pairs in her two big turrets; with, as a secondary battery, twelve 6-inch quick-fire guns, eight of which were mounted in pairs in four small turrets placed, two on either beam, behind 5-inch steel armour, while the other four were in casemates similarly protected. She had six torpedo tubes, and we conjectured that she probably had a torpedo in each tube which exploded at the time of the disaster.

As for the Pobieda, our spies were able to ascertain that the mine which damaged her had breached three of her big compartments and some smaller ones, so that it was only with the utmost difficulty she was got into harbour and beached in time to save her. Also one set of her Belleville boilers was so severely damaged as to be rendered useless. Consequently she, too, was put out of action for a considerable period.

Thus, at one fell swoop, the Russian fleet was reduced in strength by two battleships. But their worst loss was their Admiral; for it is indisputable that Makarov was the most able, energetic, and enterprising naval leader they possessed.

Two days later, more mines were laid in Port Arthur roadstead, and another attempt was made to entice the Russian fleet to come out and fight us; but the attempt was a failure. As a matter of fact, it afterwards transpired that, upon receipt of the report announcing the loss of the Petropavlosk and the damage to the Pobieda, the authorities at Petersburg had telegraphed orders to the effect that the Port Arthur fleet was on no account whatever to leave the harbour until the arrival of Admiral Skrydloff, Makarov’s successor.

Failing in this, Admiral Togo dispatched the cruisers Nisshin and Kasuga to Pigeon Bay, to make a high-angle fire attack upon the fortress and the ships in the harbour. I was not engaged in either of these attempts, the Admiral considering that I had well earned and was deserving of a few days’ rest. Besides, he very properly wished to give some of his other officers a chance to distinguish themselves. But I understood that, with the exception of silencing a new battery which the Russians had built commanding the bay, the bombardment was not attended with any very important results.

On the following day our little Admiral, whom some have named the Japanese Nelson, dispatched a squadron of ten cruisers, accompanied by a torpedo flotilla, to attempt to bring the Vladivostock squadron to battle. This squadron was accompanied by a cargo steamer named the Kinshiu Maru, loaded with coal and spare stores for the use of the squadron while away from its base; and the expedition was placed under the command of Vice-Admiral Kamimura, with the cruiser Idzumi as his flagship. I had now had a little rest, and as there seemed to be no immediate prospect of serious fighting at Port Arthur, I volunteered for the expedition, and was temporarily attached to the Idzumi as a supernumerary.

We left our base among the Elliot Islands on the 16th of April; and after an uneventful cruise of a week’s duration arrived at the port of Gensan, on the eastern coast of Korea, about two-thirds of the distance from the Elliots to Vladivostock.

There was a Japanese consul at this place, and upon our arrival off the port he and the Commandant came off in a steam launch and, boarding the Idzumi, requested an interview with the Admiral, which was at once granted, and the pair were conducted to Kamimura’s cabin, where they remained for the best part of an hour. At the close of the interview the visitors entered their steam launch and returned to the shore. Some ten minutes later, Kamimura sent for me; and when I entered the cabin I found him poring over a chart of the east coast of Korea. He welcomed me with the usual elaborate courtesy of the Japanese in their intercourse with each other as well as with strangers, and invited me to approach the table.