The Russian Forts
The land defences of Port Arthur were exceptionally strong. A range of forts, of which the Kwang-chin Hill already mentioned was the most important, commanded the harbor entrance; and another range of batteries, with the most powerful and up-to-date garrison ordnance, surmounted the hills which surround the town and protect it on the other side. Another line of forts guards the entrance channel on the west side, the most important being Wei-yuen. It seemed, indeed, undoubted that Port Arthur was impregnable from the sea, though at the beginning of the war European experts were not inclined to dogmatize as to the possibilities of its being stormed from the land side. As for the fleet, if it were lying in the West Harbor or in the East Port under the shadow of Kwan-chin, it would probably be perfectly safe from attack; but, on the other hand, it will be seen that there was a danger that the narrow entrance channel might be blocked up by an enterprising enemy, in which case the Czar's ships, even if they were the finest in the world, would be useless for all the essential purposes of naval warfare. This attempt to "cork up the bottle" was, indeed, nearly carried out by Admiral Togo in the course of the fortnight following the outbreak of war.
Another Russian Disaster
Two days after the great attack another disaster befell the hapless Russians. With this the Japanese fleet, which had retired temporarily to the Elliot Islands in the Korean Gulf to refit and repair injuries, had nothing to do. It was solely due to carelessness and mischance; and while illustrating the state of demoralization that existed at Port Arthur, it contributed to spread that demoralization still further among the already sufficiently harassed forces of the defenders. The mine transport Yenesei, which, with her sister ship the Amur, was engaged in superintending the mine defences of the harbor entrance, observing a submarine mine which had become detached floating on the surface of the water, approached it for the purpose of firing upon it and thus removing an obvious danger to the ships lying at anchor. Unfortunately, in the excitement of the process, Captain Stepanoff, who was in command, allowed his ship to drift upon a neighboring mine. A terrific explosion followed, and the Yenesei, with a yawning hole in her bows, began at once to settle down. An attempt was made to lower the boats, but the catastrophe was so sudden and unexpected that little could be done. Captain Stepanoff went down with his ship, and there perished also, either from the direct effects of the explosion or from drowning, the engineer, two midshipmen and ninety-two men of lower rank. Not only was this terrible disaster damaging to the morale of the fleet, but it deprived Admiral Alexeieff of a valuable ship and of stores which he could ill spare. The Yenesei was built at Kronstadt in 1898. She was of 2,500 tons displacement, with a speed of 17-1/2 knots; was armed with five 4.7-inch and six smaller quick-firing guns, and was capable of carrying 500 mines. It is, of course, possible that she had not that full number on board at the time of the explosion, but in any case the loss in this respect alone must have been very severe. The accident throws an instructive and rather terrifying light upon the possible dangers of submarine mines, not only to the enemy who are attacking a fortified port, but also to the defenders themselves.
Second Night Attack
Before the Russians at Port Arthur had recovered from this nerve-shaking disaster the tireless foe flew at their throat once more. On the night of the 13th a flotilla of Japanese torpedo-boat destroyers started out to make another dash at the survivors of the Czar's fleet, which were still lying in the open roadstead, presenting for a daring and resourceful enemy a tempting object of attack. The flotilla was under the command of Captain Nagai. A blinding snowstorm was raging at the time, and it was no wonder in the circumstances that the vessels became separated from one another and that some lost their way altogether. But two, more fortunate than their fellows, hit the right course. These were the Asagiri, under Captain Iakawa, and the Hayatori, commanded by Captain Takanouchi. A snowstorm on that coast is enough to tax the skill and the courage of the most intrepid sailor, but the Japanese officers and crews were equal to the occasion. Right in the teeth of the awful blizzard, their decks sheeted with ice and snow, but with hearts on board hot with the fire of heroic adventure, the gallant little craft held steadily on their way. The navigating lieutenants had to find their course more by instinct than by calculation, for it was impossible to see anything clearly ahead through the pitch-darkness and the relentless snow. On, however, they crept through the terrible night, each working independently of the other, for under such conditions no concerted plan of attack was possible.
Japanese Daring
At three o'clock in the morning of the 14th, the Asagiri reached the harbor mouth, and in she dashed regardless of the searchlights, which made broad, livid tracks even through the storm of snow. A hot fire at once broke out from the fortress and the ships, but the aim of the gunners was wild, and, undaunted by the perils of his situation, Captain Iakawa drove his boat right up to the Russian torpedo flotilla, and discharged a torpedo at one of the larger vessels, from whose funnels smoke was seen ascending. The deadly weapon went home, and after waiting to see that it exploded, the Asagiri engaged in a smart exchange of shots with the enemy's torpedo boats and destroyers, in the course of which she sent a "scout" to the bottom. Then, and not till then, did her brave commander withdraw. Turning out to sea once more, and still hotly replying to the Russian fire until she was out of range, the Asagiri safely escaped, covered with honor.
Demons of the Storm