Rammed in the Fog
On the fatal 15th of May she formed one of the cruiser squadron which, under the command of Rear-Admiral Dewa, was engaged in the blockading operations outside Port Arthur. The squadron had been standing off the harbor during the night of the 14th, and early in the morning steamed southwards. An impenetrable fog concealed everything from view, and the big ships had to proceed with the utmost caution. But in such difficult circumstances the utmost caution is sometimes unavailing, and at 1.40 the Kasuga, one of the twin ships recently purchased from the Argentine Government, rammed the Yoshino on the port stern. A terrible gap was torn in the hull of the unfortunate cruiser, and at once she began to settle down to starboard. From the meagre accounts furnished by the survivors, it is clear, as indeed might have been expected, that the most perfect discipline prevailed on board the doomed vessel. Collision mats were quickly got out and placed over the hole, but the injury was too severe to be dealt with by such means, and the swift inrush of water made all efforts to save the vessel vain. Captain Sayegi, the commander of the ship, ordered all the crew onto the upper deck, and the boats were lowered without delay, but the disaster was too sudden for them to be of any use. Five were lowered on the starboard side and one on the port, but before they could get clear the cruiser listed heavily to starboard and went down, smashing all the five boats on that side to pieces. The cutter, which was lowered on the port side, was the only boat that escaped. With perfect coolness and self-devotion the captain remained on the bridge and shouted encouragement to his men as they were getting into the boats. When last seen he was shaking hands with his second in command, Commander Hirowateri. In another moment both officers had gone down with their ship. The boats of the Kasuga were on the spot with all possible speed, and succeeded in picking up 90 of the crew, but the rest, numbering upwards of 270, perished with their captain.
Renewed Russian Hopes
When this two-fold disaster became known, the Russians were naturally elated and even filled with renewed hope. Its true proportions, too, were greatly exaggerated, and in the expectation that the Japanese would be seriously hindered in their landing operations on the coast of Liao-tung, General Kuropatkin countermanded the evacuation of Niuchwang, which had already partly taken place, and his forces once again occupied that port. However, as we have already stated, the loss he had sustained did not lessen the grip maintained by Admiral Togo upon Port Arthur. His weakened condition did, indeed, at a later period give the Russian fleet, after it had been patched up with infinite pains and difficulty, an admirable opportunity to break through the cordon, but the attempt was made with singular feebleness, and the admiral in command took his ships back to the refuge of the harbor without effecting anything. On the other hand, the destruction of the Hatsuse and the Yoshino, by necessitating the withdrawal of some ships from Admiral Kamimura, who was guarding the Korean Straits, indirectly gave the Vladivostock squadron a chance of raiding the coast of Japan for some time with impunity, of destroying a great deal of merchant shipping, and incidentally of bringing about the most serious international complications, in which Great Britain, as the chief trading country of the world, was the power principally involved.
A SKIRMISH ON THE MANCHURIAN RAILWAY.
The Vladivostock Squadron
It will be convenient at this point briefly to advert to the exploits of this squadron, which have necessarily been put on one side in the recent course of the narrative by the claims of the more important events. After the destruction of two small Japanese merchantmen on the 11th of February nothing more was heard of Captain Reitzenstein's cruisers for more than two months. In April, however, the command was taken over by a more highly-placed officer, Rear-Admiral Jessen, and a sudden burst of activity took place. With the Rossia, the Rurik, and the Gromoboi, and a flotilla of torpedo-boats and destroyers, the new commander made a raid upon the east coast of Korea at Gensan. At that very time Admiral Kamimura's squadron started on a voyage northwards to search for the Russians, and there can be no doubt that the two would have met, but by a stroke of the most perverse ill-luck one of those dense spring fogs, which descend upon the Sea of Japan like a pall, intervened and the opposing squadrons passed close to one another without discovering their proximity. When, totally baffled by these weather conditions, Kamimura returned to Gensan after a three days' cruise, he found to his chagrin that the Russians had visited the port in his absence and had even sunk a small merchant steamer called the Goyo Maru. But of more serious importance still was the destruction of the Kinshiu Maru, a transport with 124 soldiers of the 37th Regiment of Infantry on board. She fell in with the enemy's ships on the night of the 25th while they were on their way back to Vladivostock. A summons to surrender was met by a haughty refusal. An hour's grace was given, at the end of which a torpedo was discharged against the doomed vessel, striking her amidships. Under the orders of their officers the men fell in upon the deck, as calmly and steadily as if on parade, to wait for inevitable death. The officers themselves, five in number, following the stern traditions of the ancient Samurai clan, went below and committed suicide; but the rank and file determined that they would strike one blow at the enemy before they died, and so they opened a gallant but ineffective fire upon the Russians with their rifles. The cruisers made a deadly reply with their machine guns, tearing great gaps in the masses of men thickly gathered together on the deck of the transport. Still, however, the soldiers fought on with desperate bravery, until another torpedo brought the tragic drama to a swift conclusion, sinking the ship in a few seconds. Undaunted even at the moment of death, the Japanese went down with triumphant shouts of "Banzai" upon their lips. Seventy-four of the rank and file perished, but forty-five others escaped by means of the steamer's boats, which they found floating on the sea, and on the 29th they arrived at Gensan with their thrilling story.
A Thrill Through the Civilized Globe
It was a story mournful indeed in one aspect, but in all others glorious and inspiring. It may be doubted, indeed, whether any one event which had hitherto occurred in the whole course of the war so inflamed the martial ardor of the Japanese and filled them with such high hopes for a successful issue from the great conflict upon which they had entered, as the splendid heroism and calm self-sacrifice with which the soldiers and bluejackets on board the Kinshiu Maru met their death. Who could withhold the conviction that if this was the spirit in which the sons of Dai Nippon advanced to the work that lay before them, no misfortune, no temporary defeat could in the end prevent victory from resting upon the banners of the Rising Sun? Nor was the moral effect of the deed confined to Japan. The story sent a thrill through the whole civilized globe, and taught the nations of Europe and the masters of the New World that, accustomed as they were to acts of daring and devotion among their own people, a race had arisen in the Far East whose dauntless bearing in war they could not hope to surpass.