In the darkness of the early morning of the 24th, they reached the roadstead outside Port Arthur, the Tenshin Maru leading the way. The Russians, however, were more vigilant than on former occasions, and their searchlights soon revealed the renewed presence of their insatiable enemy. The Tenshin Maru, steering too far to the left, came within the fire of the batteries on the Tiger's Tail at close range. She was disabled by a shell, ran upon the rocks three miles to the southwest of the harbor entrance, and there blew up. The other steamers changed their course to the northeast, but the attentions of the Russian searchlight operators rendered their progress highly difficult and dangerous, and they were soon the object of a positive storm of fire from the forts on the Tiger's Tail, Golden Hill, and Electric Cliff, and also from the damaged Retvisan, which lay grounded at the entrance to the channel. The Bushu Maru was the first to suffer from the cannonade. Her steering gear was carried away, and, staggering blindly to the west, she grounded close to the Tenshin Maru, blew up, and sank. The fate of the Buyo Maru was no better. She was raked fore and aft by the Russian shells, and before she could reach the coveted entrance she also exploded and sank beneath the waters.
Rain of Shells
The Hokoku Maru and the Jinsen Maru were more successful. They made a rush together for the harbor channel, and got close up to the Retvisan. Disregarding the heavy fire directed upon them from the disabled but still dangerous monster, the adventurous volunteers calmly anchored their vessels upon the spot previously selected. Then only did they set the match to the fuses. Cheering loudly, but with no undue precipitation, they now took to the boats and pulled away in perfect order, in spite of the rain of shells and bullets showered around them on every side. The abandoned steamers blew up immediately afterwards and sank close to the lighthouse at the channel mouth. The activity of the Russian searchlights and the hot fire from the guns of the Retvisan and the forts compelled the men in the boats to take a very roundabout course, and they could not regain the Japanese torpedo fleet, which in the meantime had successfully picked up the crews of the other sunken ships. But the situation of the sailors of the Hokoku Maru and the Jinsen Maru was full of peril. To add to their difficulties, the wind rose to a gale towards daybreak, and they were driven out of their course. But they struggled bravely on, and, after enduring great hardships, they managed to reach the main fleet about three o'clock in the afternoon. According to the Japanese Admiral's report, all engaged returned in safety from this dangerous enterprise, an achievement comparable to the most daring "cutting-out" expeditions of olden times. It should be added that not a single destroyer or torpedo-boat was injured.
Russians Still in the Wood
Owing to the failure of three of the steamers to reach the entrance of the channel, and the insufficient size of the two which were successfully sunk there, the main object of the scheme was not attained, but it is thought that some temporary inconvenience was caused to the Russians, especially as the position of the grounded Retvisan herself was already something of an impediment to navigation. Extraordinary jubilation was created in the Czar's dominions, particularly in the Capital, by the failure of the Japanese expeditions. It was at first thought by the defending force, in the darkness and confusion, that the merchant steamers were men-of-war, and a grandiloquent account was sent to St. Petersburg by an imaginative correspondent announcing no less a disaster to the Japanese than the destruction of four of their battleships, after a severe engagement in which the wounded Retvisan had covered herself with glory. The news was quickly transmitted abroad by the semi-official agency, and the greatest excitement was caused in every capital in Europe. Cool-headed people, nevertheless, waited for some confirmation of this remarkable story, and when the truth came out the partisans of Russia were chagrined to find what a different complexion the real facts wore. Admiral Alexeieff, however, after the previous disasters which had befallen his fleet, was to be pardoned, perhaps, for the somewhat exultant tone of his dispatch to the Czar, in which he attributed what he called "the complete derangement of the enemy's plan" to "the brilliant resistance and destructive fire of the Retvisan."
The Blockade
Undiscouraged by the failure of this attempt to bottle up the enemy, Admiral Togo continued to maintain a strict blockade of the port, and to pursue the policy of alternate torpedo attacks and heavy bombardments at frequent intervals. But before proceeding with the story of these damaging and disconcerting operations, it will be convenient to describe the course which events were taking in other quarters of the theatre of war.
Transport Problems
The signal success of Japan at sea had reduced to comparatively simple proportion the problem of the transport of her forces to the seat of war on land, where the curtain was about to rise on the most desperate act in the great drama. With half the Russian fleet at Port Arthur disabled, with the other half confined to the harbor by strict blockade, and with the Vladivistock cruiser squadron reduced to ineffective isolation, the Mikado's military advisers were able to choose the most convenient landing-places in Korea with a freedom which was only limited by the difficulties of the winter season. This indeed was a serious impediment to the movement of troops in large numbers. Not only were most of the available harbors both in Korea and on the Liao-tung Peninsula blocked by the ice, but when the invading force landed it found the roads in such a state as to render them almost impassable. The country was covered with snow several inches deep; the frost was biting; and even when milder weather began to prevail the conditions did not at once prove more favorable to marching operations and to the conveyance of heavy artillery. For the time being, in fact, they grew worse rather than better, for the thaw produced a perfect sea of mud, which made progress northwards a terribly slow and painful business. Anyone who has tried to cross a ploughed field during the break up of a prolonged frost can form some idea—faint, however, at the best—of the pleasures of marching in Korea at the beginning of spring.
Secrecy of Japanese Movements