*****
February the 3rd was the most anxious night I had hitherto passed. I was assisted on board, and I think Tomi introduced me to the officers as a British newspaper correspondent. At anyrate, I was politely received, fed, and entertained so far as possible, but the accommodation was decidedly very limited—much more than the welcome.
I managed to understand that we would not actually attack. The idea was to make the breach sufficient to admit other boats next time; so, after all, we should not run any fearful risk, I fancied. But I did not know then that we were to go inside the boom,—into the harbour,—as I had little opportunity to talk, even had I been acquainted with the Japanese tongue, I made only mental observations—I was afraid of making mistakes in my language again.
The day died; the moon rose and disappeared; then came the turn of "No. 6." When blackness fell upon the water—a darkness in which the boat was almost buried—the engines began to beat silently, the screws revolved almost noiselessly, and we skimmed away towards the places already determined upon. The men lay close, only the helmsman, the officer himself, was visible. I lay by him, by permission, and two men watched forward. This was no torpedo attack, it was a survey.
An hour passed. There was no spot at which an entry could be made on the west side, and a long search only revealed a small space between the rocks on the eastern side and that end of the enormous boom which stood up threatening us in the dark. This barrier seemed bigger than I had ever imagined, and its mass seemed, from our small craft, so enormous, that I almost despaired. Dynamite could not injure it from outside. Perhaps gun-cotton or powder would, if applied inside the harbour where the resistance was less.
At last! Searching closely, the boat found the spot where the barrier ceased,—a very small passage, through which it seemed almost impossible to drive the boat in safety. But the hands which held the helm were incapable of nervousness. No tremor shook those iron muscles as the boat's head was turned rock-wise. It was sink or swim then—a torpedo in the path would end it for us. But unheeding, or rather disdaining, the danger, the skipper turned the boat's head to the small space in the sea.
The rocks grumbled at us as we slowly and deftly passed. The sullen murmurs of the waves were supplemented by the swishing of the revolving screws, or drowned perhaps by the former. Still the boat skimmed on, and then almost noiselessly brought up in the harbour, within the range of the Chinese torpedo-squadron, which speedily perceived the intruder.
The situation was peculiar. We were in hostile waters; the ships and torpedo-boats, and even the forts, quickly woke up. Shells came whizzing in our direction. We could see them streaking the blackness, like meteors, then flying shrieking over our heads, and plunging or bursting in the sea beyond the boom, or within it. But not one touched the Japanese boat, which lay dark and silent by the boom, though had an electric searchlight been used by some approaching vessel we must have been discovered at once.
The cold was intense as the devoted vessel cracked the ice which lay on the agitated surface of the harbour, but we did not mind it. The sound of the ice, one imagined, must have announced our whereabouts to the Chinese, but as we moved swiftly the aim was not accurate, and we lay alongside the barrier, silently, to prepare for the charge which the master had determined to explode against it.
The mine was laid with great difficulty, not only because of the darkness and the penetrating cold, but because of the unsteadiness of the little craft, which surged against the boom, and crackled loudly at every concussion. At length the job was complete, the charge was laid, the battery by which it was intended to explode the powder was prepared, the wire already extended.