In the Yellow Sea

by Henry Frith

Now the critical moment approached. A few directions, a few words of warning, a caution to the engineers, an order to the steersman, then: Ready? Fire! Away! away! Get out of reach as quietly and as quickly as possible.

We made tracks, noisy ones too. The island fort burst into fire, and more shells came tearing around us, but nothing else happened. The mine had failed!

Investigation at once discovered the reason. We had not proceeded far under the star-shower of shells when the report was made. The wire was cut! cut by a fluke of the anchor, which had chafed through it. There was no alternative, we must return.

In a few moments the boat was heading back, careless of the meteoric display around us. The skipper sprang up from the wheel-shelter and refastened the wire, unheeding the increasing storm of projectiles, which flew around us and pitted the icy water like hail. But again he was met by failure. The charge refused to ignite, and there was no other chance now save handwork,—that is, by doing it himself, amid the greatest danger of death by shot or shell, or drowning from the boom, or explosion,—and all this in the black darkness, relieved only by the gleams of murderous shells. The crew worked well and bravely, excited, as one may say, perhaps, by the coolness of their chief. The shot came leaping, ricochetting over the harbour; the shells screamed most unpleasantly in our ears; fingers were numbed, and our breathing was like steam amid those exertions. But the skipper landed on the boom, fixed three very destructive charges, and resumed his post at the wheel, ready, when the engines were moved full speed ahead. The deed was done!

Then the line was pulled taut, the detonator exploded, the three charges flared, the boom was rent, and the torpedo-boat No. 6 sped away over the sea, past the staring flotilla at a distance, keeping her perilous course, past the narrow entrance, amid such a cannonade as I had had never dreamed of,—a duel now between the victors and the victims of the outrage. But the boat returned, unharmed, in the darkness, and in a short time showed her lights in the offing, out of reach of the hail of shot and flaming shell, to enjoy the rest which the gallant crew had fairly earned when the report had been received.

THE DEED WAS DONE! TORPEDO-BOAT NO. 6 SPED AWAY

This was an expedition conducted with great intrepidity, and crowned with immediate success, the results of which proved most disastrous to the defence. Next night two flotillas penetrated the harbour through the wider breach No. 6 had made, and a fearful engagement ensued. In this two torpedo-boats were lost, and in No. 6 the tubes were frozen, so the torpedoes were not discharged. One of the first two boats referred to was blown up by a shell, but the great man-o'-war, Ting-yuen, was scuttled by a torpedo or torpedoes, and next day sank slowly in sight of the fleet. The Japanese had had two boats lost and two injured. The latter were sent to Port Arthur to repair. The boat I was in was struck fifty times, once by a shell.

This was "warm" work, but next night it became warmer still, for the leader of the expedition reported that the admiral, with tears in his eyes, had told him of the necessity of destroying the rest of the fleet, and the danger of it. On that second night, the 4th, we knew that many men had been killed by shot, that many besides had been scalded, and many actually frozen to death in the water, even under comparatively fortunate circumstances. The admiral and his captains knew the danger, and the latter fully appreciated it when next day a further attack was determined upon.