Maru, had also succeeded in reaching the berth assigned to her, and was at that moment in the very act of sinking, close to the Pinnacle Rock, a great monolith which rose high out of the water on the western side of the harbour’s mouth. Thus far, therefore, everything had gone well with the expedition; and now all that remained was for the fourth ship, the Yoneyama Maru, to close up the gap that still remained.
I looked round to see if I could see anything of her, and presently the shifting of the searchlight beam from the Yahiko revealed her coming along in fine style, and heading straight for her appointed berth. Hitherto, the Russian batteries had been too busy, attending to us others, to take much notice of her, and she appeared to be all ataunto and quite uninjured. I felt curious to see what was going to happen to her, and gave my crew the order to “Easy all, and lay on your oars!”
As I did so, a Russian destroyer—I could not tell whether it was the craft that had torpedoed the Fukui, or another—emerged from the darkness, heading straight for the Yahiko, as though to run her down! Would they dare? I wondered. Surely not. But if they did not, there was no reason why the Yahiko should not; she was a stout-built, merchant steamer, and, old as she was, would shear through the destroyer’s thin plating as though it were brown paper. If I had been in charge of the Yahiko, I would not have hesitated an instant, indeed I would have jumped at the chance, and in my excitement I leaped to my feet and, making a funnel of my hands, yelled frantically:
“Yahiko ahoy! Give her the stem, man; give her the stem!”
But at that precise moment the Russian guns opened again, this time directing their fire upon the Yahiko, and my hail was effectually drowned by the crash of the explosions.
I am of opinion that, a moment later, the commander of the Yahiko saw his chance, just too late to fully avail himself of it, at all events the bows of the steamer suddenly swept round, and although the destroyer instantly shifted her helm, she was too late to entirely avoid a collision; the rounding of the Yahiko’s bow struck her and roughly shouldered her aside, both craft reeling under the impact; and at that instant the destroyer let fly every gun that would bear, the fire from them actually scorching the Japanese crew, who were at that moment preparing to lower their boat. The Yahiko passed on, and so did the destroyer, the latter vanishing in the darkness to seaward, while the Yahiko, the centre of a very galaxy of bursting shells, staggered on in a sinking condition, and went down at the very moment when, with astounding skill and coolness, her skipper had brought her to the exact spot for which she was intended.
Then it was seen that, either through some miscalculation or, more probably, because the Russians had widened the channel, there still remained an unfilled gap, wide enough for a single ship to pass through! It was a most vexatious thing, after all the trouble that we had taken and the ordeal which we had passed through; but it could not be helped; it was the fortune of war.
Stay, though! Why should it not be helped? All that was needed was another steamer—or perhaps two steamers—to fill the gap, and the thing was done. And, hang it all! I was game to do the job myself to-morrow night, when the Russians would least expect me.
But, to do the job effectually, it was highly necessary to know the exact width of the gap, and the depth of water in it; and now was the time to ascertain those particulars, while we were on the spot. I would do it!
Then came the very practical question: How? What means had we to take soundings, or to measure the gap between the sunken Fukui and the Yoneyama? I looked about me, and found that all we had with us was the boat’s painter, a piece of rope some seven or eight fathoms long, which might serve as a sounding-line, if only we had a sinker of some sort, which, unhappily, we had not. Then one of the men in the boat, realising what I wanted, informed me that, while preparing the boat for lowering, he had chanced to glance into the locker in the stern-sheets, and had noticed a fishing-line there. Would that be of any use? Of course it would; the very thing for sounding, at all events. We had that line out in double-quick time, cut away the hooks, and then proceeded to knot it at exact intervals corresponding with the length of the boat’s after- thwart. Precisely what that length might be, we could ascertain afterward.
But, how to measure the width of the gap? There seemed to me to be but one way to do it, and that was by taking the length of our boat herself as a unit of measurement; not a very satisfactory method, I admitted, yet better than nothing. So thereupon we set to work.
Starting at the Fukui’s mainmast, we dropped the sinker of the fishing-line over the stern and paid out until it reached her deck. Then, giving way with the oars, we felt our way along her deck to her taffrail, lifted the sinker, and dropped it again, clear of the wreck, until it touched bottom. Then, noting the depth as so many knots and fractions of a knot, I jotted the result in my notebook while, the oarsmen keeping the boat in position, another cast was made at the bow end of the boat. Proceeding in this manner, and taking the utmost care to obtain accurate results, we accomplished our task in about half an hour, under a heavy fire from the Russians on the heights, which, strange to say, injured none of us.
This done, we pulled out to sea, and were soon afterward sighted and joined by the Tsubame and Aotaka, Japanese torpedo-boats, which took us aboard, and exultingly informed us that, a quarter of an hour or so earlier, they had engaged and driven ashore a Russian destroyer, which afterward proved to be the Silny, the craft which had torpedoed the Fukui, and had narrowly escaped being run down and sunk by the Yahiko.
The torpedo-boats’ crews made much of us and, I believe, would have given us everything they had, if we would have taken it; but I contented myself with a pannikin of saki, to counteract the cold of my drenched clothing, and then asked them to run me off alongside my own ship, the Kasanumi, which was hove-to about a mile further out. My crew received me back with literally open arms and loud shouts of “Banzai Nippon!” when I allowed it to be known that we had succeeded in doing all that we had been ordered to do. Young Hiraoka was disposed to regard me as a hero, and to treat me as such, commencing a long complimentary speech of homage and congratulation; but I cut him short by remarking that I was perishing of cold, and dived below to give myself a good rough towelling and to change into dry kit.
When I went on deck again, the dawn was just brightening the eastern sky, and I then noticed that we seemed to have more than our proper complement of men aboard. Inquiring the reason, I learned that the Kasanumi had picked up the crew of the Fukui Maru, poor Hirose’s ship; and they furnished me with the particulars of the gallant fellow’s heroic death. I also learned that while we had been engaged in the endeavour to block the harbour, our destroyers had been busily employed in sowing further harmless mines, in accordance with the Admiral’s plan to convince the Russians that Japanese mines were useless and need not be feared.
As the daylight strengthened, it revealed our fleet, strung out along the horizon, the Admiral having followed the blocking ships and destroyers upon the off-chance that the Russians might be tempted to come out and attack them, in the event of our failing in our mission.
And at first it appeared as though that chance might be afforded us. For, as we steamed away to the eastward, we saw smoke rising from the funnels of some of the ships in the harbour, and shortly afterward the cruisers Bayan, Novik, and Askold came steaming out, with the battleships following. But it was no go; the Russians opened a long-range fire upon us, to which we gave no reply, slowly retiring instead, in the hope of enticing the enemy’s ships to follow us beyond the cover of their batteries. The Russian Admiral, however, was too wary, refusing to be drawn, and, putting up his helm, he returned to the harbour. Nevertheless, the event was not altogether unprofitable to us, for as the Russian ships re-entered the harbour, the Petropavlosk ran foul of the Sevastopol and damaged her so severely as to render her unfit for further service until she could be repaired.
Meanwhile, the destroyers being no longer required, I devoted myself to the task of reducing to an intelligible state the soundings and measurements which I had that morning taken; and by the time that we were back at our rendezvous I had a little sketch plan of the harbour’s mouth ready for the Admiral, showing the exact width of the gap and the depth of water in it, thus enabling him to determine the precise size of the craft required to fill it. I also volunteered to return and fill up the gap that very night, if he could let me have a ship of the required dimensions. But it appeared that he had no ship that could at that time be spared; consequently the job had to wait.
But Togo was profuse in his thanks for my offer; and was pleased to be exceedingly complimentary in his remarks touching my “gallantry” in the matter of taking the soundings, as also upon our conduct generally in taking
