The beauty of the night fascinated me. It was so calm and peaceful, and the air, although a trifle cool, was yet bland, as though it were a breath of the coming summer; and, looking back upon what we had been called upon to endure of storm and darkness, and bitter, numbing cold and wet, I rejoiced that summer was at hand, hoping that, before winter came again, there would be peace, and that our nightly buffetings by arctic winds, hail, snow, and icy seas would be at an end.
As these thoughts passed through my mind, my gaze fixed itself contemplatively on the broad path of silver—now imperceptibly changing to liquid gold—cast upon the surface of the sea by the setting moon; and, as I gazed, I gradually became aware of a tiny black object, about a mile away, on our port bow, rising and falling with the lazy heave of the swell. In that mine-strewn sea the smallest and least conspicuous floating object demanded one’s instant and most careful attention, and whipping my binoculars out of the case, strapped to the bridge rail, I quickly focused them upon it. Through the glasses it looked very like the top of a ship’s galley funnel, though not quite so stout, and it was moving as though to cross our hawse, for with the help of the glasses I could see the little ripple of scintillating foam it piled up before it.
I knew in an instant what it was, for I had seen submarines before, and at once recognised the slender object forging through the water out yonder as the upper portion of a submarine’s periscope.
Of course she had seen us, probably a good half-hour before, or she would not be submerged; and the course she was steering indicated that she was bent upon mischief.
I congratulated myself upon having sighted her in good time before entering her danger zone, for the Kasanumi was about a mile ahead of the main body of our little fleet, and I felt that I should have time to deal with her before the others came up. The question was: would she attack the destroyer, or would she allow us to pass and reserve her energies for the transports, under the impression that they were carrying troops? It was impossible to guess, and it would never do to take any chance; I therefore pointed out the periscope to young Hiraoka, told him what it was, and then ordered him to go down quietly, have the hands called, and get all guns loaded. The thought of trying to get in a torpedo before the Russian discharged hers, occurred to me; but I decided against it, as some of our torpedoes had a trick of running erratically.
Meanwhile, we continued to potter along at ten knots, as though we had seen nothing and had not so much as the ghost of a suspicion that submarines were in our neighbourhood. There was but one, so far as I could see; and indeed until that moment we never suspected the Russians of having any in those seas, although vague rumours—which we had never been able to substantiate—had reached us of submarines having been brought overland to Port Arthur from Petersburg in sections.
With my eyes glued to my binoculars, and my binoculars focused steadily upon that small pole-like object protruding a bare two feet above that shimmering, silvery sheen of water, I directed the signalman near me to ring down the order to the engine-room to “Stand by”; and then to fetch our wireless operator to me. In a few words I explained the situation to this youngster, when he came, and gave him his orders, while the sounds of Hiraoka’s preparations came to my ears.
Suddenly, as I watched the periscope every moment becoming more distinct, I noticed that the ripple of foam about it was steadily lessening, and presently it disappeared altogether. The submarine had evidently stopped her engines, and was lying in wait, either to torpedo us as we passed, or to permit us to pass on unsuspecting, and then get in her work upon the transports. It was a bit of luck which I had not dared to hope for, and I instantly made my plans. Steadily the Kasanumi held on, as though utterly unsuspecting, steering a course which, if continued, would take us athwart the submarine’s hawse at a distance of about three hundred yards, or less than half the effective range of her torpedo.
Was she stealthily altering her position under water, turning her bows toward us, so as to torpedo us the moment we should arrive within range, or was she trusting that her presence was undetected, and waiting patiently for the moment when we should cross her bows as she lay? The latter, I believed, for she could not cant toward us without going either ahead or astern, and she could not do either without her periscope raising a ripple; and I was certain that nothing of that sort had happened. I determined to risk something, after all, to put that submarine out of action, and so held steadily on. At length we arrived so close that I could see the periscope almost as distinctly without the glasses as with them, and still intently watching it, I laid my hand on the engine-room telegraph, carefully estimating the steadily decreasing distance which separated us from moment to moment.
Six hundred yards. Five hundred. Four-fifty. Four hundred. I crashed the telegraph handles over to “Full speed ahead!” on both engines, and never moving my eyes for an instant from the periscope, directed the helmsman to steer straight for it. The submarine was lying motionless and inert there, some fifteen feet beneath the surface; and I calculated that it would take the Russians at least half a minute to realise that they were discovered, and to get way upon their craft; and by that time we should be so close to them that it would be impossible for them either to dive or to turn the submarine bows on to us, much less to escape. Then, as I felt the destroyer leap forward beneath me, like a spirited horse at the cut of a whip, I blew my whistle, as a signal to “Sparks,” who instantly wirelessed back to the main body to stop until further orders, and to keep a sharp lookout for submarines.