string of other craft at that moment too far distant for identification.
While we were still endeavouring to identify some of the more distant ships, the Mikasa made the general signal: “The fate of our Empire depends upon our efforts. Let every man do his utmost!” It was greeted with a great roar of “Banzai Nippon!” which swept along the line of the fleet like the rumbling of distant thunder. The crews of the ships had, of course, been at quarters, and the officers at fire-control stations, for some time, and now we began to receive from the range-finders the range of the Oslabia, the leading Russian ship. “Fifteen thousand yards,” “Fourteen thousand,” “Twelve thousand,” came the reports in rapid succession as the two fleets rushed toward each other.
At a distance of twelve thousand yards the Mikasa’s helm was shifted and the course of the Japanese line altered four points to the eastward, as though our purpose was to pass along the Russian line to port, exchanging broadsides as we passed; and so the enemy evidently understood, for he came steadily on. But we knew differently. Already every forward gun in the fleet was bearing steadily upon the Oslabia, and when, in obedience to a signal from the flagship, the speed of the Japanese fleet quickened up to fifteen knots, we knew that the great battle was about to begin.
It began a few minutes earlier than we anticipated, for our range-finders had just given the distance of the head of the Russian column as nine thousand yards, when two bright flashes, followed by a great cloud of white smoke, broke from the Oslabia’s fore-turret, and presently we saw two great fountains of foam leap into the air some distance beyond the Mikasa. As though this had been a signal, the Suvaroff, Alexander Third, and Sissoi Veliki instantly followed suit, and a second or two later we heard the loud, angry muttering of 12-inch shells hurtling toward us. But some flew over, and others fell short; not one touched us; and as the heavy, rumbling boom of the reports reached our ears, the Mikasa signalled another shift of helm a further four points east, and before the Russians fully realised what we were about, the Japanese fleet was “crossing the T,”—that is to say, passing athwart the enemy’s course.
Every gun which the Russians could bring to bear upon us was now being loaded and fired as rapidly as possible, so that in a very short time the enemy’s ships were enveloped in whirling wreaths of powder smoke, yet not a single Japanese gun had thus far spoken.
“Six thousand yards” was presently signalled by the range-finders; and at the same moment three shots roared forth from the turrets of the Mikasa, Shikishima, and Fuji. We knew at what target they were aimed, and those of us who happened to have our glasses at our eyes saw a bright flash and a cloud of smoke suddenly burst into view on the Oslabia’s conning tower. One of our 12-inch shells had found its mark, and—as we subsequently learned—instantly killed Admiral Folkersam! This instant success told us that we might unhesitatingly rely upon the accuracy of our range-finders, and at once every ship in the Japanese battle-line opened fire, first upon the Oslabia and then upon the Suvaroff, our manoeuvre of “crossing the T” enabling us to bring every one of our broadside guns upon the enemy, while he, in turn, could only fire a few of his fore-turret guns, the rest being blanketed by the ships leading the line.
The careful, deliberate fire of twelve ships upon two could have but one result; the Oslabia and Suvaroff both received a most fearful punishing; the unprotected portions of their hulk were blown to ribbons, dense columns of dark smoke poured from the Oslabia, and presently it was seen that she and the Suvaroff were on fire and burning furiously. Both ships, as though instinctively, swerved away to the eastward, anxious not to shorten the distance any farther between themselves and the Japanese, and presently both the Oslabia and the Suvaroff fell out of their respective lines and dropped to the rear, with both their own lines between them and the enemy.
Then came the turn of the Alexander Third, which was now leading the Russian starboard line; and she got even more severely peppered than her battered sisters in misfortune, for the range had now dwindled to four thousand yards, and every shot of ours was telling with terrible effect. It must not be supposed, however, that while the enemy was being punished so severely, we were going scatheless. We were not; very far from it, although we were giving a good deal better than we received. Shells were by this time falling pretty thickly all around us, while hits were becoming steadily less infrequent. The first to come aboard the Yakumo was a 12-inch shell which struck our fore barbette on the starboard side, glanced upward, striking the conning tower and exploding, the fragments wrecking a couple of ventilators, a boat, and freely puncturing our fore funnel, while one piece swept my cap off my head and overboard. The Asama, however, next but one astern of the Yakumo, suffered very much more severely than we did, three heavy shells hitting her abaft in quick succession, throwing her steering gear out of action, and causing her to leak so badly that she had to drop out of the line and be left astern, executing temporary repairs.
By this time—that is to say, shortly before six bells in the afternoon watch—the two fleets were heading about East-South-East, running in parallel lines, our own line leading that of the enemy by about a mile, while the Alexander Third was, like the Oslabia and Suvaroff, in flames and blazing furiously. A few minutes later it was seen that the Sissoi Veliki was also on fire, she being now the leading ship of the Russian port line of battle, and, in accordance with Togo’s tactics, the object, with the Navarin and Admiral Nakhimoff, of the concentrated fire of our battle-line. Meanwhile, our protected cruiser squadrons had come upon the scene and were harassing the Russian rear so effectively that, aided by the vigorous attack of our battle-line upon the Russian van, the enemy’s line was breaking up in confusion.
Togo now gave the order for us to close in upon the enemy’s van, himself leading the way in the Mikasa, with the result that the leading Russian ships, in order to avoid being crossed and raked, were compelled to continually bear ever more and more away to the southward, until finally they swept right round and were all heading north once more, with the Alexander Third, Suvaroff, and Oslabia all out of the line and practically out of action.
It is difficult, nay more it is impossible, for the captain of a ship taking part in a general action to note and remember every phase and detail of such action; he is so intensely preoccupied in the task of fighting and manoeuvring his own ship that only certain detached incidents of the engagements impress themselves upon his memory strongly enough to be permanently remembered; thus I am able to recall that about this period of the battle I came to the definite conclusion that we had won, notwithstanding the fact that several of our ships, including the Yakumo, had suffered severely. The Asama, for example, was at least temporarily out of action, while the Kasuga—one of the two new cruisers purchased from the Argentine just before the outbreak of the war—had all three of her heavy guns rendered useless.
By this time our protected cruiser division had crept up on the starboard quarter of the Russian line, and was vigorously attacking in that direction, while our battle-line, to port of the Russians, was as vigorously pounding the enemy’s front, thus bringing the Russian line between two fires. It was about this time that one of those brief interludes of comparative inaction which occur in most battles afforded me an opportunity to look round a bit and obtain my first comprehensive view of the battle since its commencement.
The wind, which had been blowing fresh during the earlier part of the day, had been gradually dropping, and was now little more than a mere breathing, but the sky still continued overcast and gloomy, its shadow, falling upon the sullenly heaving but no longer breaking seas, causing the tumbling waters to look almost black where they were not veiled by the drifting smoke wreaths or slowly moving patches of fog. It was the obscuration caused by this combination of smoke and fog that had produced the interval of comparative inaction of which I have spoken, for it rendered accurate firing difficult, and our ships, in accordance with Togo’s determination not to waste ammunition, were only firing occasional single shots, when the hull of an opponent became distinctly visible, although the Russians were blazing away at us as recklessly as ever, thus enveloping themselves in an almost continuous veil of smoke, which was renewed as quickly as it drifted away.
It was now that the Asama, having effected temporary repairs, came up and resumed her place in our line of battle, which was thus once more intact, our ships keeping station with the most perfect regularity with the Russian line, such as it was, some four thousand yards distant about a point abaft our starboard beam. The roar of the enemy’s artillery was incessant, the continuous crashing
