Schwab led the way, his tall bulky form making a path through the crowd. A pawn-shop was ablaze. The roof had already fallen in. Siberian infantrymen were trying to keep order in the crowd—hundreds of Chinamen yelling, jostling each other, going hither and thither with their buckets, splashing through the mud. Many of them were laughing uproariously; to the Chinaman a fire is purely a spectacle, to be enjoyed without any disturbing sympathy for the victims, whose efforts to save themselves and their goods are greeted as the most enjoyable farce. Some of the crowd were waving bright-coloured flags; in the glare from the burning house it was like a scene from a country fair. Here and there Chinamen were squirting feeble and futile jets of water on the house from tiny copper pumps, like the syringes used at home for watering flowers. An old mandarin in yellow silk forced his way through the press, paying no heed to the fire, anxious only to get home without soiling his white socks. But the throng was becoming unwieldy; there was danger of the whole quarter being set ablaze; and at last a Russian captain came up with a squad of men at the request of the Chinese Viceroy himself, and set about clearing the street in a business-like way. For a few minutes the confusion seemed redoubled; the Chinamen scampered this way and that as the Russians came at the double along the street. This moment was seized by Schwab, who evidently had a keen eye for a tableau. At his bidding Jack took a snap-shot of the strange scene—a scene that would have been appropriate to the stage of a comic opera. Then he returned with his employer to the Green Dragon. The correspondents there—French, Italian, English, and American—were in the bustle of preparation for moving out next day to Liao-yang, where a big battle was expected to take place.
Jack, it must be confessed, was considerably excited at the prospect of seeing something at close quarters of this terrible war, which had brought forth so many surprises for the world. Hitherto he had seen nothing but its fringe; and of the many contradictory rumours he had heard he was not disposed to believe too much. The Russian officers with whom he had talked were divided into two classes: the partisans of Alexeieff and those of Kuropatkin. The majority pinned their faith to Kuropatkin. If he had been left alone, they said, the war would have followed an entirely different course. He would have waited patiently at Harbin until his army had been raised to overwhelming strength; then he would have taken the offensive and driven the Japanese into the sea. But his strategy had been dictated either by Alexeieff or from St. Petersburg. Worse than that, he had not been able to devote his whole energies to the proper work of a commander-in-chief. That in itself was a stupendous task for one man, afflicted with a poor staff. But the general had been compelled to attend to details of commissariat, hospital arrangements, the supply of clothes, the preparation of maps. His was a harassing struggle against corruption, incompetence, and drunkenness. Once, alighting at a railway-station to make an inspection, he found the platform strewn with intoxicated officers. With a burst of anger, unusual in a man habitually patient and calm, he ordered the wretched men to be sent on by the first train to the front.
What had been the course of the war since that memorable May day when the invading army crossed the Yalu? General Kuroki's brilliant dash was followed by several weeks of what to the outside world seemed comparative inaction. But during that period both sides were straining every nerve: the Russians to hurry forward reinforcements and complete the great fortified positions along the railway; the Japanese to perfect the arrangements for the three great armies which were, first, to cut off Port Arthur, and then to move northwards against the main Russian forces concentrating in the neighbourhood of Liao-yang. General Stackelberg having failed at Wa-fang-ho in his forlorn hope against the army investing Port Arthur, the northward movement of the Japanese was slowly resumed, the Russian right being steadily driven back along the railway with occasional half-hearted attempts to stem the Japanese advance. Meanwhile General Kuroki on the east had forced the mountain passes at Motien-ling, and General Nodzu, in command of the centre, was preparing for the attack on the Russian position at To-ma-shan that resulted in the evacuation of Hai-cheng. The beginning of August found the three Japanese armies relentlessly driving the Russian forces towards the fortified positions south of Liao-yang which General Kuropatkin had prepared as the scene of his first serious attempt to roll back the tide of invasion.
It was a warm, dry morning, the 29th of August, when Schwab, Jack, and Hi Lo, mounted on hardy ponies, hit the Green Dragon for their forty miles ride to Liao-yang.
Just before they reached the gate, Jack had an exceedingly uncomfortable moment when he noticed his father's enemy Sowinski hurrying in the opposite direction in a Pekin cart. The Pole passed without recognizing the tall figure in Chinese dress, though he gave a nod to Schwab. Jack knew that to the European all Chinamen look pretty much alike; but he did not wish to come to too close quarters with the Pole, and was glad that for a time at any rate he would run no risk of being recognized in the streets.
The rains had ceased some days before; the wind was beginning to dry the mud which in the wet season renders all traffic impossible. The other correspondents had already gone to the front, and when our riders left the mud walls of Moukden behind them they saw nobody on the road except a regiment of Cossacks marching off behind their band, and a number of Greek camp-followers going south in the hope of reaping some profit from the battle.
As they approached Liao-yang they heard the dull boom of guns in the distance. For several days the three Japanese armies under Generals Kuroki, Oku, and Nodzu had been marching through mountain passes and the valleys opening upon the Tai-tse-ho, and the Russians had been falling back on the circular line of defences which for three months they had been strengthening. As he heard the thunderous reverberations, Schwab exulted.
"So!" he exclaimed, "I haf vaited long time. At last my obbortunity haf come. Zis are business. Ze Illustrirte Vaterland und Colonien shall haf fine bictures taken egsbress by a Gairman viz native assistance on ze sbot. Famos!"
Liao-yang is a walled city lying on the direct road from Moukden to Newchang and Port Arthur, and even more picturesquely situated than the capital. Three miles north of the city flows the Tai-tse-ho, taking a northerly course by the north-east corner of the walls. The railway passes at some distance to the west, making an acute angle with the western end of the city. Southward the ground rises gradually. Here the Russians had prepared their defences; the crests of the hills were scored with several lines of trenches, the result of three months' diligent spade-work.
Schwab and his two companions, entering the city from the north, found themselves in the midst of great bustle and activity. The streets were thronged with soldiers; long lines of transport wagons were arriving; and the merchants, native and foreign, were plying a brisk trade. Schwab had some difficulty in finding a lodging; the hotel, kept by a Greek, was full; but he at length secured a small cottage near the wall at an exorbitant rental. It was evening when they arrived; Hi Lo prepared a supper consisting of tinned sausages and biscuit brought from Moukden, and pears purchased from a local fruiterer. The booming of artillery had ceased, but the city was full of noise, and Jack was amazed at the careless light-hearted mood in which the soldiers, officers and men, were preparing for the struggle.