The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Japan-Russia War, by Sydney Tyler

The Japan-Russia War goes into history as the greatest military struggle the world has known. Its story, therefore, rivals in interest those of the great wars of the past which have been an unceasing inspiration in every field of art and literature. The political machinations of great and little kings, of famed prime ministers, of peoples and states have attracted attention in more or less limited circles, but the world's wars have appealed to every class and rank. The world's vast army of readers have never wearied of the classic stories of feats of arms by men and armies told of the dawning days of world history; the tales of later map-making struggles of Asia, of Europe, of America, have never grown old or dull. So in the Orient of to-day. The great political battles which have centred about China and Japan for the last half century have interested the few. But to-day the attention of the world is centred on the lands bordering the Pacific, because a war has waged; because the whole human family loves the stories of valorous deeds, of military achievement, of the history-making that is done with the sword.

The purpose of this volume is to bring American readers face to face with the events of the struggle of such stupendous magnitude, now drawn to a close. From battlefield to battlefield the author carries his thrilling narrative, bringing the scenes before the mind's eye as only one could do who stood within sound of the roaring guns, within sight of the onrush of resistless battalions, elbow to elbow with Japan's brilliant history makers. From the opening of the struggle to its close there was never a moment when stupendous events were not either in the process of making or so imminent that the civilized world held its breath. A single year's campaign in Manchuria and around famed Port Arthur furnish three land battles, greater in the number engaged in the awful cost of life, in the period of duration, than is presented by all of the pages of history. The siege of Port Arthur has no duplicate among all recorded military achievements. The opening of the second year of the war added a battle, that at Mukden, so vast, so brilliant from the standpoint of the victors, so disastrous from the standpoint of the defeated, that it has been accorded by masters of strategy a niche by itself in the chronicles of war. The author saw this wonderful panorama of events unfolded. His story bristles with dramatic touches, flashes of enlightening description that bring the scene home to the reader with a vividness that thrills.

American readers have a more immediate interest in the struggle than the universal love of the stories of battle. With Japan victor over Russia, with the great Muscovite Empire deprived of a foothold on the Pacific, Japan and America remain the only Powers there to divide the rich spoils of Oriental commerce. Our possessions, the Philippines, are Japan's nearest neighbors, and their proximity to Japan, their bearing upon the Asiatic problem open the way for events of more than ordinary importance, if not of seriousness. Already the statement has been made that Japan covets these Islands. Will the United States, one day be called upon to go to war in their behalf? The question is one which no American can ignore. The nation must educate itself to decide one day, the issue, for or against a struggle with this wonderful little Empire, the Great Britain of Asia. The volume, therefore, in addition to its value and interest as a chronicle of a marvelous series of bloody battles is educational, the pioneer, blazing the way to an appreciation of events, of possibilities for our own country which lie in the story of Japan's overwhelming success. Will the Mikado come to believe that having humbled and crushed what was Europe's mightiest Power, he can as readily drive from the Pacific the American Republic?

The author in this volume has even more completely demonstrated his genius as a chronicler of war than in any of his earlier efforts. Step by step he followed the British in Africa and at the conclusion of that struggle contributed to British literature a history which was generally conceded to have been more accurate, more graphic, less warped by prejudices than any other. Step by step he followed the unfolding of our own Spanish war and the story of that struggle as told by Mr. Tyler became at once the standard not only in Great Britain, but in the several Continental countries in which it appeared. With the priceless experience of these two wars to ably equip him, Mr. Tyler has contributed one more narrative of a great war to military literature and the assertion is unhesitatingly made that it will not be equalled by any of the hosts of volumes destined to be written of this memorable war.

Along with the author went his camera. To that fact the reader is indebted to a series of illustrations never before attempted in the portrayal of military campaigns. What little the author has left to the imagination is supplied by these graphic pictures that bridge nine thousand miles and bring the sights and almost the sounds of battle to the reader.

In brief, this volume as a description of the succeeding struggles of the Japan-Russia War, for accuracy, graphic qualities, detail and literary finish; for its educational value and significance, for the hitherto unattempted excellence of its illustration is presented to the American public with confidence that an appreciative reception will not possibly be denied.

Two Irreconcilable Destinies—Progress v. Stagnation—Europe's Danger—Insatiable Russia—A Warm Water Port—Japan's Warlike Progress—The Chino-Japanese War—Russia's "Honor"—M. Pavloff—Russia in China—The Russo-Chinese Bank—The Mailed Fist—Russian "Leases"—Benevolent Professions—Wei-Hai-Wei—Niuchwang Railway—Pavloff in Korea—Russia and Manchuria—Russo-Chinese Treaty—Anglo-Japanese Alliance—Russians in Korea—Japanese Protests—Russia's Discourtesy.

Never since the great Napoleonic wars which convulsed Europe a century ago has the world witnessed an appeal to arms so momentous in its issues and so tremendous in its possibilities as that which has just been tried between Russia and Japan in the Far East. The great internecine struggle in the United States in the middle of the last century, the disastrous duel between France and Germany which followed, and England's recently-concluded campaign in South Africa, have each, indeed, left a deep mark upon history. But while their import was at most Continental, if not local, the conflict between Japan and Russia is fraught with consequences which must inevitably be world-wide in scope. There is no civilized Power in either hemisphere whose interests are not more or less directly concerned in the question—Who shall be the dominant Power in the China Seas? For the whole course of the world's development in that quarter must depend on whether the mastery remains to the obstructive and oppressive Colossus of the North or to the progressive and enlightened island-Empire which, like Pallas in Pagan myth, has sprung fully armed from an ancient civilization into the very van of modern progress. It was no mere dynastic jealousy or racial animosity that brought about this fateful collision. It was the inevitable antagonism of two irreconcilable destinies. "Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere"; and the ambitions of Russia and the aspirations of Japan cannot find room for fulfilment together. One or the other must be crushed.

For Japan, the question is one of national existence. With Russia established in Manchuria and dominating the Yellow Sea, the absorption of Korea becomes a mere matter of time; and then the very independence of Japan would be subject to a perpetual and intolerable menace; while the new life which has dawned for its wonderfully gifted people would be crushed at the outset. But if Japan is fighting for her life, Russia is fighting for something almost as precious—the consummation of an ambition which has been the dream and the fixed goal of her statesmen for more than a generation. The expansion of the Russian Empire has been steadily eastwards; and the further conquest and dominion have spread, the more has the necessity been felt for an outlet to the navigable seas. Unless all the labor and sacrifices of years are to be in vain, and the great Siberian Empire is to remain a mere gigantic cul-de-sac, Russia must establish herself permanently in the Gulf of Pechili, and find in its ice-free ports that natural outlet for her trans-continental railway which will enable the life-blood of commerce to circulate through her torpid bulk. The struggle, therefore, was one between two irreconcilable destinies.

But if the issue was immediately of such paramount significance to the two combatants, it was only less charged with import for all Asia, Europe and America. The victory of Japan would incontestably give her the predominance in the Far East, commercially as well as politically. Not only would she be a formidable trade rival to the European nations whose methods she has so successfully adopted, but she would be able to influence the conditions under which that trade was carried on. The immensely valuable and as yet imperfectly developed market of China would be practically within her control; and European Powers would no longer be able with impunity to seize naval bases and proclaim exclusive spheres of influence in Chinese territory. On the other hand, if Russia were to emerge victorious from the war, the whole of China would become a mere vassal state, if indeed its integrity could be preserved. Trade would be discouraged and finally extinguished by the exclusive methods of Russian policy, and except on sufferance no other Power could obtain a footing in the Far East. The whole future of this vast region, therefore, hung in the balance, for the battle was between freedom, progress and enlightenment, as represented by Japan, and obscurantism, oppression and stagnation, as represented by Russia.

But the anxious concern of the world in this Far Eastern war was based not only upon a calculation of material interests. Every civilized Government had before its eyes the imminent danger of other countries being dragged into the conflict. The situation was such that at any moment some untoward incident might set Europe in a blaze. The specific obligations of France to Russia under the terms of the Dual Alliance, and of Great Britain to Japan under the Treaty of Alliance concluded in 1901, made the limitation of the struggle to the original combatants not only difficult, but even precarious. A breach of neutrality by any third Power would at once have compelled France to join forces with her Russian ally, or Great Britain to come to the assistance of Japan. Such a breach might have been merely trivial or technical, and yet sufficient to give a hard-pressed belligerent ground for calling her ally to her assistance. It might even have been deliberately provoked, in the hope of retrieving disaster by extending the area of conflict; and if the two Western Powers were once dragged into war, no statesman would be bold enough to put a limit to the consequences. Both Germany and the United States are profoundly interested in the Far East and in the issue of this great struggle for predominance; and one or both of them might at any moment have been ranged on one side or the other. From such an Armageddon the factors which determine the balance of power throughout the world, and therefore the development of national destinies, could hardly have emerged without profound modification; and the ultimate establishment of peace would have found many more international rivalries and antagonisms resolved than those which are immediately connected with the Far East. Lord Beaconsfield once said that there were only two events in history—the Siege of Troy and the French Revolution. It seems more than possible that the Russo-Japanese war will have to be reckoned as a third supreme factor in the progress of the world.

The outbreak of the present war became practically inevitable as long ago as 1895, when, on the conclusion of peace between China and Japan the three European Powers—Russia, France and Germany—stepped in and robbed the Mikado and his people of the fruits of their hard-earned victory. From that time up to the present Russia has steadily, and without ceasing, tightened her grip upon the Northern province of the hapless Chinese Empire, and has ended by threatening the independence of Korea, the legitimate sphere of influence of Japan, and the indispensable buffer between herself and the insatiable and ever-advancing Northern Power.

It must be borne in mind that the determining consideration which led Russia to cast longing eyes upon Manchuria—apart from that eternal hunger for territory which is one of her strongest characteristics—was the necessity of acquiring a warm water port as a naval base and commercial harbor. The port of Vladivostock—which, by the way, she acquired from China as early as 1860 by a truly Russian piece of bluff—has proved of little use in this respect, owing to the fact that during the winter months it is almost entirely icebound. A striking illustration of the embarrassment such a state of things must cause was afforded in the course of the present war by the plight into which the Russian Cruiser Squadron stationed there fell. There can be no doubt that the ambitions of the Czar's advisers had for years been directed towards the acquisition of the fortress and harbor of Port Arthur (known to the Chinese as Lu-shun-kau), which situated as it is upon the narrow neck of land at the extreme southernmost point of the Liao-tung Peninsula, should, if properly served by a strong and efficient naval force, dominate the Gulf of Pechili, and prove the most powerful strategic post in Northern China.

It is not known, of course, what path the development of Russian plans in this respect would have followed if they had been allowed to proceed without interruption; but, as it turned out, they were suddenly threatened with a dangerous obstacle in the complete and unexpected success of Japan over China and her capture of the whole of the Liao-tung Peninsula. This short but sanguinary conflict between China and Japan is memorable for having first revealed to the world the amazing progress which Japan had made in her efforts to engraft and assimilate the characteristics of Western civilization. It proved that in less than twenty years Japan had earned for herself an established position in the community of progressive nations. The war also made it possible for the first time to estimate the influence and effect in warlike operations of the tremendous engines of destruction with which modern science has equipped the fleets and armies of to-day. The navy of Japan had been organized on the latest model, and her officers had been trained in British schools; and though China's equipment was not to be compared with that of her antagonist, she possessed several powerful armorclads of the latest type, officered and engineered by experienced Europeans.

The salient features of the war were, at sea, the battles of the Yalu River and of Wei-hai-Wei; and on land, the rout of the Chinese at Ping-Yang, the passage of the Yalu and storming of Port Arthur. The first of these in order of time was the battle of Ping-Yang, a town situated near the north-west coast of Korea. Here the Chinese troops under General Tso attempted to prevent the advance of the Japanese towards the Yalu. By a series of skilful movements carried out on September 15th and 16th, 1894, the Japanese Commander-in-Chief, Marshal Yamagata, completely surrounded the Chinese and defeated them with great slaughter, their General himself falling dead upon the field. On the next day the Chinese fleet stationed at the mouth of the Yalu, which had proved entirely ineffective in preventing the landing of the enemy's forces upon Korea, gave battle to the Japanese. The ships of the latter Power were mainly cruisers, but the extraordinary skill with which they were manœuvred and the rapidity of their fire completely outweighed the advantage possessed by the Chinese Admiral in battleships. He sustained a crushing defeat, and eight of his best vessels were destroyed. In the meanwhile Marshal Yamagata continued his march to the North, and after a bloody but indecisive conflict near Wiju on October 22nd he succeeded in crossing the Yalu River and driving his antagonists in rout before him. The Japanese now proceeded to overrun Manchuria and the Liao-tung Peninsula, capturing all the principal positions one after the other with unvarying success. A great army under Marshal Oyama invested Port Arthur in November, and on the 20th and 21st he took that powerful fortress by storm, the defenders being massacred to a man. The final and decisive act of the war was the bombardment of Wei-hai-Wei and the island fortress of Leu-Kung-tan by the combined naval and military forces of Admiral Ito and Marshal Oyama. The operations lasted from January 30th, 1895, till February 12th, when, unable to hold out any longer against the terrific assault, Admiral Ting, the Chinese Commander, surrendered his fleet and the forts under honors of war. A closing touch of tragedy was the suicide of Ting and his principal officers, unable to bear the shame of their defeat. On March 19th negotiations for peace were opened at Shimonoseki, and the final treaty was signed on April 17th. The Treaty of Shimonoseki gave Japan unqualified possession of that Peninsula and also, of course, of Port Arthur—a very moderate territorial prize, considering the absolute character of her victory over China, and the sacrifices she had made to obtain it. But Russian susceptibilities were alarmed, and the Government of St. Petersburg decided upon a drastic step to avert the calamity which threatened to render its ambitions futile. Gaining the support of both Germany and France, it compelled Japan, by threats of force which that Power could not resist, to retire from Port Arthur and the Liao-tung Peninsula, and to restore the territory to China. The reason alleged for this high-handed action was the specious plea that the presence of the Japanese on the Asiatic mainland would endanger the independence of China and Korea, and would be a constant menace to the peace of the Far East. Naturally enough the indignation of Japan was intense, but defiance of three such powerful antagonists was impossible for her at that moment, isolated as she was and exhausted by the exertions of a great war. Great Britain was asked by the other three Powers to act jointly with them in this matter, but she refused to assist in depriving the gallant Island people of their rightful spoils of victory. The attitude of Lord Rosebery's Government on this occasion, although it gave no positive aid to Japan, undoubtedly led to a better understanding between the two countries, and paved the way ultimately to the Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Alliance, which, by rescuing Japan from her position of isolation, enabled her to enter effectively into the momentous and complicated game which the European diplomatists were playing, with varying fortunes, at Peking.

Meanwhile, however, Japanese aspirations received a check from which they were to take several years to recover. The statesmen of the Mikado were even unable to obtain a pledge from China that the territories yielded back to her by Japan would never be alienated to a third Power. Russia's delicate sense of honor, it appeared, revolted against the imputation implied, and therefore China must give no pledge. On the other hand, Russia would be so generous as to give an assurance on her own account that she had no designs upon Manchuria. Forced to content herself with the cold comfort of this empty and meaningless declaration, and baffled upon all essential points, Japan sullenly withdrew her troops from the mainland and settled down to nurse her just wrath, and prepare for the inevitable day of reckoning.

The centre of interest was now shifted to Peking, where began that amazing scramble among the European Powers for commercial, and especially for railway, concessions in China, which, by unmasking the ambitions of some countries, and revealing the community of interests of others, has led ultimately to important modifications of international policy, and to a re-arrangement of alliances. The complexity of the game, the swiftness of the moves, and the ignorance of the average man, not only of the issues involved, but even of the main geographical and economic features of the immense country which was the object of the struggle—all contrived to puzzle the mind and to darken the understanding; but a vague feeling, only too clearly justified by the events, arose in this country that England and America were not getting the best of the conflict, and that Russia and Germany were making all the running. In truth, there is no doubt that the skill, or perhaps, to speak more correctly, the duplicity, of the Russian diplomatists both in Peking and in St. Petersburg left their competitors completely behind. Foremost among them there emerges at this time the sinister figure of M. Pavloff, the Minister of the Czar at the Chinese Court. The tortuous diplomacy of the Muscovite has produced no more characteristic tool. M. Pavloff has been the stormy petrel of the Far East. Intrepid, resourceful to a degree, unscrupulous beyond the average, he is ever in the forefront of the diplomatic battle line. His appearance in any part of the field is the signal for new combinations, fresh aggressions, the stirring up of bad blood between nations, and the unsettlement of apparently settled questions. A man whose god is the Czar; a man with whom the expansion of the Empire of the Little White Father is an ideal cherished with almost religious fervor; a man who indeed in all probability honestly regards the extension of the Russian autocracy over the world as essential to the due progress of higher civilization—he is thoroughly typical of the class of agents whose devoted services Russia has always managed to secure for the spread of her Empire and the gradual but steady absorption of fresh territory all over Asia, whether in China, Persia, Turkestan or Tibet.

Such was the instrument possessed by the Government of the Czar at the Court of Peking, and he was not likely to neglect the unique opportunity which lay ready to his hand. By her action in restoring Port Arthur to the nerveless grasp of China, Russia naturally assumed the character of a powerful friend whose smile was to be courted and whose frown was to be proportionately dreaded. What more natural, in the circumstances, than that the Emperor should grant to the subjects of his brother and ally, the Czar, peculiar commercial privileges in the country which had been so generously rescued from the grip of Japan and restored to the Empire of the King of Heaven?

The first result of M. Pavloff's policy of disinterested friendship became manifest in 1896, when the Chinese Government concluded an agreement with the Russo-Chinese Bank, providing for the formation of a company to be styled the Eastern Chinese Railway Company, the ownership of which was to be vested solely in Russian and Chinese subjects and which was to construct and work a railway within the confines of China, from one of the points on the western borders of the province of Heh-Lung-Kiang to one of the points on the eastern borders of the province of Kirin; and to the connection of this railway with those branches which the Imperial Russian Government would construct to the Chinese frontier from Trans-Baikalia and the Southern Ussuri lines. The institution, which went by the plain, solid, commercial name of the Russo-Chinese Bank, was, of course, merely a sort of Far Eastern annex of the Finance Bureau of M. de Witte, and the line thus modestly announced was the nucleus of the great railway which has since played such a large part in consolidating the Russian dominion over Manchuria. At the outset it was pretended that the line was to be merely a short cut to Vladivostock, but the true ambitions at the bottom of the scheme became apparent when Russian engineers began to pour into the country followed by squadrons of Cossacks, nominally for the protection of the new railway, but really in pursuance of Russia's invariable policy of impressing the natives with a due sense of her enormous military strength.

The construction of the line, however, had not proceeded very far when, in 1897, an event occurred which gave the Czar's Government the chance for which they had long been anxiously looking. The massacre of some German missionaries led to swift and stern reprisals on the part of the Kaiser. The port of Kiao-Chau, in the province of Shantung, was seized until reparation was made for the outrage committed upon the majesty of the German Empire, and to placate the offended "mailed fist," the feeble Government of China were compelled to hand over this important position to Germany as a permanent possession, although, by a characteristic euphemism of diplomacy, the transaction was conveniently styled a "lease." Russia's opportunity was now too good to be neglected. Emboldened by the example of Germany, she demanded—for that is what her so-called "request" amounted to in reality—permission from the Chinese Government to winter her fleet at Port Arthur. Perhaps it may be imputed to her for righteousness that, unscrupulous as she is, she has never found it necessary to employ the missionaries of Christ as instruments of aggression; at all events on this occasion she had no such excuse at hand. The helpless Chinese assented, of course, to her request; but now Great Britain, awake at last to the dangers which threatened her Treaty rights, endeavored to intervene. Strong representations were made by the English Minister to the Tsung-lai-yamen as to the necessity for turning the port of Ta-lien-wan—which lies immediately adjacent to Port Arthur—into a Treaty port; that is to say, throwing it open to the trade of the world on the same terms as obtain at Shanghai, Canton, Hankau, and other ports of China at which the policy of the Open Door prevails.

English statesmen, however, were no match for the wily Russians, who had the ear of the Chinese mandarins. The Government of the Czar successfully opposed the suggestion, and backed up its representations at Peking by significant display of force, for a considerable fleet of men-of-war arrived at Port Arthur and Ta-lien-wan in the spring of 1898 and practically took possession. Then, by a mingled process of terrorism and corruption, the Chinese Government were induced to grant the Czar a "lease" of the two harbors on the same terms as those on which Germany had been granted possession of Kiao-Chau, and, equally important, to permit the extension of the line of the Eastern Chinese Railway Company to Port Arthur. Thus came into being the Manchurian Railway, the construction of which was pushed on with feverish activity.

The first step towards the complete acquisition and control of Manchuria had now been successfully accomplished, and English diplomacy sought in vain to wrest from Russia the advantage she had thus skilfully acquired. Of course Russia was prolific of "assurances" as she always has been in similar circumstances. The Government of the Czar solemnly declared, for the satisfaction of any confiding person who was willing to believe it, that it had "no intention of infringing the rights and privileges guaranteed by existing treaties between China and foreign countries," and that the last thing it contemplated was interference with Chinese sovereignty over the province of Manchuria. The sincerity of these benevolent professions was to be judged by the fact that, having once secured a grip of Port Arthur, Russia hastened to convert it into a fortified post of great strength and magnitude, and closed it absolutely against the commerce of the world; and that, while on the one hand she so far met the anxious representations of the British Government as to constitute Ta-lien-wan a free port in name, on the other hand she deprived the concession of all real meaning by an irritating system of passports and administrative restrictions upon trade.

Great Britain attempted to neutralize the advantage her rival had gained in the Gulf of Pechili by securing a port on her own account, and, with the support of Japan, she induced the Chinese Government to enter into an agreement for the acquisition "on lease" of Wei-hai-Wei, a harbor situated on the southern shore of the Gulf and opposite to Port Arthur. It was imagined at the time that the port could be turned into a powerful naval base, but the naval and military surveys afterwards taken showed that it was of little use for strategic purposes, and it has consequently sunk into the position of a health station for the English China Squadron.

In the meantime Russia steadily increased her hold upon Manchuria, and large bodies of troops continued to be poured into the country. Her position had now become so strong in the counsels of the Chinese Court that in July, 1898, she openly opposed the concession, which British capitalists were seeking, of an extension of the Northern Railways of China to the Treaty Port of Niuchwang, which lies to the north of Port Arthur, at the extremity of the Gulf. The importance of this extension to British and American commerce was immense. Niuchwang is the main outlet of the trade of Manchuria, and was at that time a busy thriving town of about 60,000 inhabitants. Its value from the commercial point of view may be estimated from the fact that its total trade rose from £1,850,000 in 1881 to £7,253,650 in 1899, the year before it fell absolutely into Russian hands. Russia's attempt to deprive her commercial rivals of practical access by land to this valuable port were, however, on this occasion only partially successful; the construction of the Shan-hai-Kwan-Niuchwang Railway was finally permitted; but the agreement was greatly modified to suit Russian views.

Concurrently with these events, significant developments had been taking place in Korea, which brought Japan once more upon the stage. For some time after the Japanese had been driven from Port Arthur, Russia left Korea alone. She even entered into formal engagements with Japan, recognizing that Power's peculiar commercial rights and interests in Korea. But now M. Pavloff arrived upon the scene at Seoul. In March, 1900, he gave the Japanese the first taste of his quality by endeavoring to obtain a lease of the important strategic port of Masampo, situated in the southeast of Korea, facing the Japanese coast and dominating the straits between. At the same time he stipulated that the Korean Government should not alienate to any other Power the island of Kojedo, which lies just opposite to Masampo. Japan successfully resisted this bold stroke of policy; and matters were in this position when the Boxer rising gave Russia a supreme opportunity. Her troops in Manchuria were attacked by the rebels, and she at once hurried in reinforcements and seized the whole country. Resistance to her arms was put down with relentless vigor—with a vigor, indeed, far transcending the necessities of the case, and the Blagovestchensk massacres, in which thousands of unarmed Chinamen were offered up as a sacrifice to the offended majesty of Russia, will long be a stain upon the escutcheon of the Imperial Prophet of Peace. In the drastic process of absorption which was now adopted, the treaty port of Niuchwang was naturally included, and the interests of other Powers there became of very small account indeed.

It was evident that the Manchurian question had now assumed a more serious form. Of course the Czar's Government was profuse in its explanations. No permanent territorial advantage was being sought, we were told; as soon as lasting order had been established in Manchuria, and indispensable measures taken for the protection of the railway Russia would not fail to recall her troops from the province; above all "the interests of foreign Powers and of international companies at the port of Niuchwang must remain inviolate." The restoration of lasting order, however, appeared to be a very tedious process. More and more troops were drafted into the province and on the naval side also preparations were made for an imposing demonstration.

Admiral Alexeieff, commanding the Russian fleet, though not yet advanced to the dignity of Viceroy of the East, now took charge of the Czar's interests, one of his first acts being to invite China to resume the government of Manchuria "under the protection of Russia." On November 11th, 1900, an agreement was signed at Port Arthur between the Russian and Chinese representatives. The terms of this remarkable document, which were promptly disclosed by the able and well-informed correspondent of the London Times at Peking, were a startling revelation. They provided virtually for a Russian military protectorate over Manchuria. Mukden, the ancient capital of Manchuria and the burial-place of the Manchu dynasty, was to be the centre of control, and a Russian political resident was to be stationed there. This city, which now possesses a population of about 250,000, has in modern times become a great place of trade. It is situated 110 miles to the northeast of Niuchwang, and its position in the centre of the Manchurian railway system renders it a place of much strategical importance. Not only were these vast concessions made to Russia, but the Treaty rights of other Powers at Niuchwang itself were disregarded. Great Britain and the United States necessarily entered an urgent protest against this singular method of preserving their interests inviolate. But Count Lamsdorff, the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs, declared to our Ambassador that the Russo-Chinese Agreement was merely a temporary arrangement.

The value of the solemn assurance of the Foreign Minister was exposed to the world almost immediately afterwards by the invaluable correspondent of the London Times, who sent to his paper the terms of a new and more far-reaching Agreement which the Russian diplomatists were trying to force upon the Chinese Court.

The position of affairs was now profoundly altered by the conclusion of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. This important Treaty gave Japan the strength and the encouragement ultimately to intervene on her own account and endeavor to curb the restless ambitions of Russia. Russia gave a definite pledge that her troops would be withdrawn from Manchuria by instalments on the expiration of a certain period. That period expired on October 8th, 1903, but the pledge was never redeemed. A show of evacuation was made in 1902, but the troops returned, and at the end of October of 1903 Mukden was re-occupied in force. Never during the whole period did Russia lose her grip upon Niuchwang.

Notwithstanding the conclusion of the Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Alliance in the beginning of 1902, Japan waited for eighteen months before entering into the diplomatic lists alone against Russia. But at last, in August of 1903, this course was rendered imperative upon her, not only by the failure of the Czar's Government to carry out their engagements in regard to Manchuria, but by their aggressive policy in Korea. M. Pavloff, rebuffed at Masampo in 1900, had turned his energies in another direction. He secured for his countrymen valuable mining rights in Northern Korea, and Russians then began to cross the Yalu River and ultimately occupied Yongampo, a town of some importance on the southern bank. Not content with railway enterprises, they even started to construct fortifications. The Japanese, of course, interposed energetically and succeeded in modifying the Russian activity; but it now became apparent that, unless some binding arrangement could be arrived at, Korea was destined to share the fate of Manchuria.

Representations were therefore made at St. Petersburg calling for a revision of the Treaties of 1896 and 1898, and a friendly settlement of the respective rights of the two Powers. The story of the negotiations which ensued is a simple one. It is a story of courteous and moderate representation on the one side, and of studied delay and contemptuous refusals on the other. The negotiations on behalf of Russia were in the hands of Admiral Alexeieff, now elevated to the position of Viceroy of the East, and it is said to be mainly due to his influence that his Government adopted such an unbending attitude. Japan asked for a repetition by Russia of the pledges she had given that she would recognize the integrity and independence of China and Korea; and, further, that she should recognize the preponderance of Japanese political and commercial interests in Korea. Russia haughtily refused to give Japan any pledge as to the integrity of China, and contended that her position in Manchuria was regulated by treaties with China in which Japan had no right to interfere. As to Korea, she proposed the establishment of a neutral zone in the north of the province, leaving the south of the country to become a sphere of commercial influence for Japan, but she expressly stipulated that the latter Power should make no use of any portion of Korean territory for strategic purposes. The proposal was so absurdly one-sided that Japan returned to the charge with the suggestion that a neutral zone should be established both on the Manchurian and the Korean sides of the frontier. She also reiterated her request for an agreement as to the maintenance of the territorial integrity of Manchuria and China.

Russia contemptuously delayed reply to these representations in spite of the courteous requests of the Japanese Government. In the meanwhile she kept augmenting her forces in the Far East till the situation became impossible of continuance.

Every day that passed threatened to transfer the balance of naval power in favor of the European Power, for a powerful fleet was being hurried out to the Far East, and the badly-finished warships in Port Arthur were being patched up by an army of mechanicians. Mr. Kurino, who conducted the negotiations at St. Petersburg, pressed for an answer, but was put off with promises no less than six times. Such discourtesy could only have one result. The dignity of Japan could brook no further insolence, and the Czar and his Ministers were politely informed that under such circumstances negotiations were useless. It was in vain that hurried telegrams were dispatched to Admiral Alexeieff to present a reply to the justly incensed Cabinet at Tokio. The die had been cast, and the big bully of the North, who had for so long baited the plucky little Japanese, realized at last that threats and bluff no longer were of any avail, and that the matter was now referred to the God of Battles.

On February 7th, 1904, Japan formally broke off the negotiations and withdrew her Minister from St. Petersburg. The war cloud had burst.

Russia Bluffing—Japan's Navy—"Nisshin" and "Kasaga"—New and Efficient—Japan's Dockyards—Opposing Figures—Russian Navy—Belated Help—Japan's Superiority—Russian Harbor—Japan on Land—Russia's Army—East of Baikal—Weak Communications—Port Arthur—Korea as Base—Command of the Sea—The First Blow—World-Wide Interest—A Graphic Account—Russian Losses—The Fight of February 9th—Russian Bravery—Japanese Modesty—Damage Understated—Only One Repairing Dock—Alexeieff's Reason for Casualties—The Fight at Chemulpo—The First Shot—Japanese Disembarkation—A Brave Russian Captain—A Target for Japanese Gunners—The Plucky "Korietz"—Wounding and Burning—Japan's Handicap.

The growing menace of the situation in the Far East had been for months attracting the anxious attention of the whole world, and at the beginning of 1904 it became evident that war was inevitable, unless one or other of the disputants was prepared to make a complete surrender of its essential claims. The unlikelihood of this remote possibility being fulfilled was confirmed by the steady and, on the Russian side at least, the feverish preparations for hostilities which were carried on as an accompaniment to the repeated protestations of pacific intentions by the Czar's Government and its diplomatic agents abroad. Those who still believed in peace were sustained by the conviction that one of the parties to the dispute was bluffing. Sympathizers with Russia pointed to the tremendous power and inexhaustible resources of the Northern Empire, and asked whether it were possible that a young and small country like Japan should dare to try conclusions with so gigantic an antagonist. On the other hand, the friends of Japan emphasized the weakness of the Russian position in the Far East and the well-known financial embarrassments beneath which her Exchequer was laboring. It is, therefore, apropos to survey at this point the military and strategic position in the Far East which revealed itself immediately before the final rupture of diplomatic negotiations and the beginning of active hostilities.

In any conflict between Russia and Japan it was obvious that the first struggle must be for the mastery of the sea, and it is, therefore, interesting to consider primarily the relative naval strength of the two Powers in Far Eastern waters. The navy of Japan has been built, not only on English models, but for the most part in English yards; and since the Chino-Japanese War it has been increased by a number of vessels of the latest and most powerful type. The result is that the most formidable feature of Japan's naval strength is its complete homogeneity. The tabular statement on page 41, gives the names and principal characteristics of what may be called Japan's first fighting line at sea.

Towards the close of 1903 the Japanese Government, with great enterprise, managed to secure a powerful accession to this fleet by purchasing from Argentina two freshly constructed cruisers of the most modern and efficient type. These two vessels, which have been re-christened the Nisshin and Kasaga, were hastily equipped for sea at Genoa, and, commanded for the time being by retired English officers and manned by English crews, started in January for the long voyage to the Far East. Although war had not yet been declared, it was clearly imminent, and the Russian squadron in the Mediterranean received orders to watch the new cruisers closely, with the object, of course, of capturing them in case hostilities broke out before the vessels had reached Japan. The taste of their quality, however, which the Nisshin and Kasaga were able to give to the Russians proved how valuable an addition they were to the Japanese navy, for they easily outdistanced their slow-footed pursuers, and what promised at one time to be an exciting race degenerated practically into a walk over. The new cruisers arrived safely at Yokohama on February 16th, and were at once sent into dock to refit and prepare for active service. These splendid fighting machines must, therefore, be added to the list.

The table, it will be observed, does not include a number of coast defence vessels, nor—more important for offensive purposes—the torpedo flotilla, which is of great strength and of remarkable efficiency, and includes over a score of 30-knot destroyers of the most modern type. The first four battleships in the list were completed less than two years before the war, while the armored cruisers were built between 1899 and 1901. The protected cruisers include several of the vessels that defeated the Chinese fleet at the battle of the Yalu.

For the accommodation of her fleet Japan possesses four well-equipped dockyards, capable not only of repairing damaged vessels of any class, but of constructing new ones; and this is, perhaps, the greatest advantage which the island kingdom has over Russia in the present struggle.

The naval strength of Russia in the Far East at the outbreak of hostilities is shown in the tabular statement appearing on page 44, which, again, does not include vessels of the smallest class nor the torpedo-boat flotilla.

It will be remarked that the Russian battleships offered a great variety in design and fighting power—a serious disadvantage, for in manœuvring the efficiency of the whole squadron sinks to the level of that of the least effective vessel it contains. The Czarevitch and the Retvisan, which were the latest vessels to arrive at Port Arthur, were also the most powerful members of the fleet. The former vessel was built in France after the latest French model, and the latter in Philadelphia. This fleet was divided, at the outbreak of war, between Port Arthur and Vladivostock, the four powerful cruisers, Gromoboi, Bogatyr, Rossia, and Rurik being stationed at the latter port.

While negotiations were still proceeding, though at a critical point, Russia prepared to send out very formidable reinforcements to the Far East from her Mediterranean Fleet. These reinforcements included the Osliabia, a battleship of over 12,000 tons displacement, with a speed of 19 knots; the Dmitri Donskoi, an armored cruiser of 6,000 tons displacement and a speed of 15 knots; the Aurora, a swift protected cruiser of the largest class; several cruisers of the volunteer fleet, with troops, naval drafts, and supplies; and a number of torpedo craft. This squadron had begun to assemble at Port Said before the outbreak of war, and the vessels at once began to pass through the Canal. But before they were ready to sail for the China seas, war broke out, and the departure was delayed. The initial Russian reverses at sea made it practically impossible for this reinforcing fleet to proceed to the seat of war, as it would have been liable to interception by the Japanese fleet in overwhelming strength. Accordingly, after cruising aimlessly about in the Red Sea for some weeks, the ships were ordered to return to the Baltic; and in the beginning of March they passed through the Suez Canal again on their way north.

Though nominally the fleets of the two Powers were fairly equal, Japan possessed several very considerable advantages which, in the opinion of experts, changed that paper equality to marked superiority on her side. In the first place, the Chino-Japanese war only ten years ago had given her naval officers and men an invaluable experience of fighting on the grand scale under modern conditions; in the next place, their fleet was much more of a pattern; and in the third place it was operating from a base fully capable of providing all the needs and reinforcements entailed by losses in war, including a ready coal supply.

Russia, on the other hand, had for its only bases Port Arthur and Vladivostock, the one inadequate to the multifarious needs of her fleet, and the other ice-bound in winter, and so situated geographically as to be completely isolated from what promised to be the main scene of operations. Although Port Arthur had been rendered almost impregnable as a fortress, the Russians had not had time to complete it as a naval dockyard, and at the outbreak of war it possessed only one dry dock, and that not capable of accommodating vessels of the largest size. At Vladivostock the channel out of the harbor could only be kept free by ice-breakers. In the event of naval disasters, Russia, therefore, had no possibility of repairing her lame ducks, while the radius of her fleet's activity was limited by the fact that her only supplies of coal were to be obtained at Port Arthur. In the situation, therefore, which presented itself at the outbreak of war, this powerful naval force was practically deprived of mobility. It could not leave Port Arthur for more than a short cruise; and while it remained there it must be specially vulnerable to attack, lying in an open roadstead and huddled together in order to enjoy the protection of the guns of the fortress.

With regard to the land forces of the two belligerent Powers, it was only possible to reckon with certainty those of Japan; for it remained doubtful, until the progress of active operations revealed the facts, how much of Russia's enormous military strength had been concentrated in the Far East. Broadly speaking, Japan could put into the field in the last resort an army of between 400,000 and 450,000 men. The standing army amounts to almost 200,000 men, and it was immediately available for mobilization. To this number another 35,000 men was added by the reserve, while the militia of all arms could be reckoned at 200,000 men. The Japanese infantry soldier is armed with the Midji magazine rifle, and the artillery with the Arisaka quick-firing gun; but the adoption of this latter weapon has been so recent that the whole of the artillery is not yet supplied with it, and in this one respect at least the Russian gunners are believed to possess a very great advantage. The Japanese army has been organized largely on German models. It proved its efficiency as a fighting machine in the Chino-Japanese War; while the Japanese troops that took part in the relief of the Peking Legations earned the unstinted praise of all the military experts who watched their behavior. Until the present war, however, the Japanese army had never undergone the supreme ordeal of facing a European adversary.

Of the Russian military organization, the strength and weakness have long been known to the world, and the great question for strategists in contemplating the present hostilities was the number of troops which the Northern Power could bring into the field to confront her foe. Various estimates had been given, from the overwhelming army of 400,000 men confidently claimed by Russia's partisans, to a force of little more than a quarter of that strength. But though the actual figures were in doubt, it was possible by collating the information from various sources to arrive at an approximate estimate of the truth. At the time of the Boxer outbreak in 1900 Russia had 35,000 men in the Far East, and that force was, within little more than a year, trebled. Since the possibility of trouble with Japan had loomed on the horizon, reinforcements had been steadily dribbling over the Trans-Siberian Railway and over seas in the volunteer transports, until the army under the command of the Viceroy of the Far East could not number much less than 150,000 men of all arms, with 286 guns. Of this force, at least a half must have been absorbed in the defence of the long line of railway communications and in garrisoning fortresses; but the troops available for active operations consisted largely of Russia's most formidable fighting material—namely, the Cossacks, who possess an endurance and mobility which must be of the utmost value in such a country as that in which the present war was to be fought out.

In the latter part of January the well-informed correspondent of the London Times at Peking telegraphed an estimate of the Russian forces east of Lake Baikal, which, in its circumstantiality and exhaustiveness, bore the evidence of truth. According to this authority, Russia had available at that time a total of 3,115 officers, 147,479 men, and 266 guns; and these numbers included the railway guards over the whole of the Manchurian railways and the garrisons of the principal fortresses. The infantry of this force numbered 108,000 officers and men, and the cavalry 22,000 officers and men, of whom nearly the whole were Cossacks. The garrisons of Port Arthur and Vladivostock alone absorbed 45,000 men, and remembering that the railway line to be guarded, east of Lake Baikal, was over 1,500 miles in length, and traverses a country of which the inhabitants were more or less hostile, it is evident that the troops available to take the field at the end of January could not have exceeded, on this estimate, more than 50,000 men. Lake Baikal is 400 miles in length, and though a railway round its southern extremity was in course of construction, it was far from completion at the outbreak of hostilities. The lake is frozen over during the winter months, when transit has to be effected by sledges. But in the emergency the Russians laid railway lines across the lake, and thus by the end of February had established a through service of sorts. But even then the number of reinforcements and the quantity of supplies that could be moved up to the theatre of war were strictly limited by the delays inseparable from the working of a single track railway, and it is doubtful whether more than 25,000 men at the outside had been added to the field force by the beginning of March.

The strategical problem which presented itself at the outbreak of hostilities was a comparatively simple one—for Japan at any rate. The power of Russia in the Far East depended on the maintenance of two great arteries of communication with the heart of the Russian Empire. One of these was the over-sea passage from the Black Sea or the Baltic through the Suez Canal and the East Indian Archipelago—a voyage occupying six weeks at least, and however feasible in time of peace, rendered particularly difficult and even precarious under war conditions owing to the possibility of interception and the absence of any intermediate coaling stations. The other connecting link between Port Arthur and St. Petersburg was the Trans-Siberian Railway, that gigantic enterprise which, completed in 1899, brought the capital of Russia within 15 days' journey of its furthermost outpost in the Yellow Sea. From Moscow to Port Arthur is a distance of some 4,000 miles, but at two-thirds of its length the railway is interrupted by the great inland sea known as Lake Baikal. At this point transshipment across the lake had to take place, a circumstance that offered an insurmountable hindrance to rapid transit. In the building of the railway, too, soundness had been sacrificed to rapidity of construction; the line was only a single track one, with stations and sidings at intervals of about 25 miles; and even when the whole service was monopolized for military purposes the number of trains that could be passed over the railway in one day was a fixed and very limited quantity. Even with this line open, therefore, the rate at which Russia could reinforce her troops in the Far East had to be determined by other circumstances than military urgency, and the number of her reinforcements also had to be governed by the capacity of the line to bring up not only men, but supplies; for Manchuria itself does not provide the means of support for a large army. The experience of the American Army in Cuba and of the British Army in South Africa proved what tremendous difficulties may be encountered in carrying supplies to a large force at a distance much less remote from its base than Russia's was. For years past Russia has sent out her troops and supplies to the Far East mainly by sea. For twelve months before the war broke out a constant stream of transports, colliers and supply ships had passed from the Black Sea to the Gulf of Pechili, and this stream was only interrupted on the outbreak of war—a significant admission of the incompleteness of the Russian preparations, as well as of the inadequacy of the Trans-Siberian Railway to supply her needs.

It was evident, therefore, that Japan's first object was to shut off Port Arthur from the sea, and her next to cut the railway communication to the North. This done, the Russian fortress, however impregnable to assault, must ultimately fall to investment. From Port Arthur, which, as a glance at the map will show, lies at the very tip of Liao-tung Peninsula, the railway runs due north for six hundred miles through Niuchwang and Mukden to Harbin, where it joins the branch line to Vladivostock. Though Russia has for several years been in occupation of this territory, her hold upon it is by no means secure. The population is distinctly unfriendly, and for the mere defence of the line thousands of troops are necessary. Indeed, it was this necessity that Russia urged as an excuse for her military occupation of Manchuria.

Within the triangle of which Harbin is the apex, of which the lines to Port Arthur and Vladivostock are sides, and of which the course of the Yalu River is the base, the sphere of immediate military operations practically had to be confined, as the ice-bound condition of the coast to the west of Port Arthur made a landing in force there impossible till the spring. The necessity of maintaining communications tied the Russian forces very largely to the railway lines. But for either belligerent the helpless kingdom of Korea, which lies south of a line drawn between Port Arthur and Vladivostock, for aggressive operations, afforded the most convenient line of advance. Through Korea Russia could menace Japan, and through Korea Japan could most easily march against Port Arthur. Naturally, therefore, Russia's first care was to mass her available troops on the line of the Yalu, and concentrate reinforcements at Harbin ready to be moved to whatever point might prove the objective of the Japanese attack.

But the command of the sea was the essential condition to attack by land by either combatant. With the Russian fleet masked or destroyed, Japan could choose as a landing-place for her armies any of the numerous ports on the western coast of Korea, and so approach in force the Yalu River, which divides Korea from Manchuria and the Liao-tung Peninsula. With imperfect command of the sea, Japan would have a second resource. She could land her troops at Masampo, separated only by a hundred miles of sea from her own ports, or she could, at a push, land her forces on the east coast of Korea, at Yuen San or Gensan. But the former plan of operations would have entailed a long overland march before the objective was reached, and the latter the maintenance of communications over difficult and mountainous country. Evidently, then, immeasurable importance attached to the result of the first naval engagements, and to their influence in giving the command of the sea to the one or the other of the two belligerent Powers.

On February 5th M. Kurino, the Japanese Minister at the Court of St. Petersburg, announced to the Government of the Czar that Japan could wait no longer for the long-delayed Russian reply, and that further negotiations were broken off. This startling news reached Europe and America on the evening of Sunday, February 7th; and while its significance was still being anxiously discussed in every capital, and while statesmen and jurists were still trying to convince one another that the rupture of diplomatic negotiations did not necessarily imply the beginning of war, there burst like a thunder-clap the further news that the first grim and irretrievable blow had been struck. Having decided that the arbitrament of war was inevitable, Japan acted on her decision with swift and terrible effect. On the night of Monday, February 8th, a daring attack by torpedo-boats was made on the Russian fleet lying at anchor in the Port Arthur roadstead, and at one fell swoop the boasted might of Russia at sea was hopelessly broken. This astounding intelligence was first conveyed to the world in an official telegram from Admiral Alexeieff to the Czar, couched in the following terms:—

"I most devotedly inform your Majesty that about midnight between the 26th and 27th of January (February 8th and 9th) Japanese torpedo-boats delivered a sudden mine attack on the squadron lying in the Chinese roads at Port Arthur, the battleships Retvisan and Czarevitch and the cruiser Pallada being holed. The degree of seriousness of the holes has to be ascertained. Particulars will be forwarded to your Imperial Majesty."

The stunning effect of this news was only enhanced when fuller details of the incident so baldly and laconically announced came to hand. No news of the movements of the Japanese fleet had been allowed to leak out, and its presence before Port Arthur was wholly unexpected by others as well as the Russians. On the 3rd of February the Russian fleet had put to sea, and for twenty-four hours the world was agog with the news of so momentous a movement. But the speculation died suddenly when it appeared that the fleet had returned immediately to its anchorage. The Japanese, with characteristic alertness, realized the splendid opportunity which the necessarily exposed position of the Russian ships afforded to an enterprising enemy.

While everything was still tranquil at Port Arthur, and the Russian authorities were confidently announcing that the foe could not be expected for three or four days, the blow fell. According to the graphic account of an eye-witness, every one at Port Arthur had settled down for the night, when suddenly across the bay reverberated the shock of three violent and successive explosions. In a moment all was bustle and confusion on the Russian warships. Searchlights flashed bewilderingly and without purpose across the waters, and quick-firing guns from vessel after vessel began a panic fusillade, which Admiral Alexeieff, in his official report, euphemistically described as "a well concentrated fire at the right time."

It was midnight, and in the darkness and confusion it was impossible for any one to know exactly what was happening; but when the morning light broke over Port Arthur the two proudest possessions of the Russian fleet, the powerful battleships Retvisan and Czarevitch, were seen passing slowly towards the harbor entrance, across which they presently lay in evidently a badly damaged condition. The cruiser Pallada followed, listing heavily to port, and she also was grounded outside the entrance to the harbor.

It was at ten o'clock the next day, the 9th of February, that the Russians obtained their first glimpse of the enemy. In the distance three Japanese cruisers were described hanging observant upon the Russian fleet, and immediately what remained of that once powerful squadron put to sea in pursuit of the audacious enemy. But, as before, this bold movement had no result, and the Russian ships returned to anchor. Scarcely had they done so when the Japanese squadron of sixteen vessels, including six battleships and four first-class cruisers, steamed into view in fighting formation. As the leading vessels at a distance of some three miles came into line with the harbor entrance the flash of their great guns broke through the mist, and for nearly an hour the Japanese shells continued to burst over the forts, along the beach and among the Russian ships, who replied vigorously, and whose fire was assisted by that of the powerful land batteries. Again the Russian squadron steamed out to meet the enemy.

Some of the cruisers advanced towards the Japanese fleet with great gallantry, the Novik, the Diana, and the Askold particularly distinguishing themselves, with the result that they were all rather seriously hit by the Japanese fire and were compelled to retire upon the main squadron. Several other of the Russian ships were damaged before the Japanese fleet drew off.

The official dispatch of Admiral Togo to his Government upon the momentous achievements of his fleet during these two days was a model of modesty and self-restraint. Dated "February 10th, at Sea," it ran:—

"After the combined fleet left Sasebo, on the 6th, everything went off as planned. At midnight on the 8th the advance squadron attacked the enemy's advance squadron, the latter being mostly outside the bay. The Poltava, Askold and others were apparently struck by torpedoes.

"At noon on the 9th the fleet advanced to the offing of Port Arthur Bay and attacked the enemy for forty minutes, I believe doing considerable damage. I believe the enemy were greatly demoralized. They stopped fighting at one o'clock, and appeared to retreat to the harbor.

"The Japanese fleet suffered but very slight damage, and its fighting strength is not decreased. Our casualties were 4 killed and 54 wounded. The Imperial Princes on board suffered no harm.

"The conduct of the officers was cool, and not unlike their conduct at manœuvres.

"This morning, owing to heavy south wind, detailed reports from the vessels have not been received, so I merely report the above fact."

This dispatch, as we know both from the Russian official accounts and from independent witnesses, really understated the extent of the blow which the Japanese Admiral had dealt to the Russian fleet; the vessels torpedoed were not cruisers only, but the two crack battleships upon which Admiral Alexeieff necessarily placed peculiar dependence, and the "considerable damage" which Admiral Togo believed had been done by the subsequent bombardment had put out of action, for the time being, the battleship Poltava and the cruisers Diana, Askold and Novik. Of these the Poltava and the Novik were badly hit on the water line—damage the seriousness of which needs no comment.

The most significant confession, indeed, of the crushing character of the blow which at the very commencement of the war the Japanese had succeeded in dealing to their powerful adversary was contained in a subsequent dispatch from the Viceroy to the Czar. Telegraphing on February 11th, Admiral Alexeieff reported "the Czarevitch and the Pallada were brought on the 9th inst. into the inner harbor. The leak in the Retvisan is being temporarily stopped. The repairing of an ironclad is a complicated business, the period for the completion of which it is hard to indicate." This guarded language must be read in the light of the fact that the Russians had only one repairing dock capable of holding a large ship at Port Arthur, and the terrible character of the disaster which within forty-eight hours had befallen the naval power of the haughty Muscovite in the Far East will be realized. The losses in men were not very serious, amounting in all to 10 men killed and 2 officers and 41 men wounded, but the injury to the fleet was practically irreparable. Seven out of Russia's best vessels had been placed hors de combat, her battleships' strength being reduced to 4, namely, the Petropavlovsk, Peresviet, Pobieda and Sevastopol (the last two being themselves under repair when the war broke out), and her already small cruiser force being reduced to two, namely, the Bayan and the Boyarin. The following is the list of the damaged ships:—

It should be added that the repairs to the Askold were quickly executed, and that she was able to take part in the subsequent operations a few days later.

Admiral Alexeieff's dispatch to the Czar stated that the majority of the wounded belonged to the Pallada. The reason for this was that they were "poisoned by gases produced by the explosion of the torpedo charged with melinite."

The Japanese fleet, naturally, did not emerge from such an action unscathed. Its losses in men were officially reported as 4 killed and 54 wounded; and although the fighting efficiency of the fleet was not seriously impaired, two armored cruisers, the Iwote and the Yakumo, were injured, and, as the casualties show, several other vessels were struck. But the most remarkable circumstance was that the torpedo-boats by which the night attack had been delivered escaped scot-free.

While the Russian capital was still reeling under the shock of this unexpected disaster, there came the news of a fresh blow struck by the Japanese arms in another quarter of the theatre of war. This was the naval engagement at Chemulpo—a port on the northwest coast of Korea—in which two of the Czar's warships and one transport steamer were destroyed. It is true that only one of these vessels had any fighting capacity, and that the conflict in itself was of much less consequence than the battle at Port Arthur, but the incident gave a further and mortifying revelation of the disorganization of the naval forces of Russia in the Far East, and of the total absence of anything like a bold and definite plan of operations from the minds of her commanders. In spite of the critical position in which the negotiations between the two Powers had been standing for weeks, the Russian fleet in the Yellow Sea was unconcentrated and generally unprepared for war. The outbreak of hostilities found two vessels, the Varyag, a protected cruiser of 6,500 tons, and the Korietz, a gunboat, old, indeed, but not without some use for coast defence, quietly stationed at Chemulpo, a ready prey for a Japanese squadron.

On the 8th instant a Russian steamer called the Sungari, which was employed for the transport of stores, entered the harbor with the news that a large fleet, which her captain believed to be Japanese, was fast approaching. The Korietz was sent out to reconnoitre. The columns of smoke on the horizon did indeed come from the funnels of the enemy's ships. The advancing squadron consisted of a first-class battleship flying the flag of Admiral Uriu, and the cruisers Akashi, Takachiho, Naniwa and Chiyoda, as well as seven torpedo-boats, the whole convoying transports with 2,500 Japanese troops on board. The Korietz cleared her decks for action and fired—one account says that the shot was accidental—upon the rapidly approaching foe. The latter replied by discharging two torpedoes at the daring gunboat, which then retreated back into harbor. It is interesting to note that, whether the gunner of the Korietz acted under orders or not, he fired the first shot in the war, for the incident occurred several hours before the torpedo attack upon Port Arthur.

The Japanese took no further notice of the Russian ships until the disembarkation of their troops had been carried out, a process which was commenced immediately and was carried out through the night with great celerity and in the most perfect order. In this matter, indeed, as in all the preliminary stages of the war, the operations of the Mikado's forces showed how carefully thought out were the plans of his naval and military advisers. Not a detail appeared to have been omitted, every eventuality had been skilfully calculated beforehand, and as a result the whole machinery of warfare moved like clockwork.

By four o'clock on the morning of the 9th the process of disembarkation had been successfully completed, and the soldiers had all found their pre-arranged billets on shore. The Japanese squadron then put out to sea once more, and waited for daylight before taking any action. At seven o'clock, however, the captain of the Varyag was served with an ultimatum from Admiral Uriu declaring that hostilities had broken out between Russia and Japan, and summoning him to leave the harbor by midday. Should he refuse to do so, then the Japanese fleet would be compelled to attack the Varyag and the Korietz within the harbor. A correspondent of a London paper who was present on the spot states that the commanders of the other warships stationed at Chemulpo—namely, the British cruiser Talbot, the Italian Elba and the French Pascal, held a meeting and drew up a strong protest addressed to the Japanese Admiral against his proposal to attack the Russian vessels in a neutral port. The message was sent out in the Talbot's launch.

The protest, however, was not needed, for the captain of the Varyag, in spite of the overwhelming disparity of forces, determined to face his enemies in the open. It was an act of conspicuous gallantry, only to be expected, it must be said, from the representative of a country whose sons, whatever their faults, have never been slow to die for her sake. The manner, too, in which the Varyag set about her voyage to inevitable destruction was well worthy of the finest naval traditions of all countries and all ages. We are told that as the drums beat to quarters, and as the doomed ship steamed out amid the cheers of the foreign crews in the port, the band was massed upon her deck and burst into the strains of the Russian Hymn, the National Anthem. It was like that "flourish of insulting trumpets" with which Raleigh faced the guns of Cadiz, and the bravado of which Stevenson said he liked "better than the wisest dispositions to ensure victory; it comes from the heart and goes to it." No one, indeed, who is capable of generous emotions can fail to be uplifted by the story of the Varyag's passage to death. It is well to know that the cold science of modern naval warfare and all those mathematical calculations and inventions which have displaced the ancient ascendency of brawn and muscle at close quarters have not quenched the eager spirit of the sailor, or diminished his "heroic superstitions and his strutting and vainglorious style of fight." It was with a spirit not less high and intrepid that the captain of the little Korietz, disregarding the orders of his superior officer to remain within the shelter of the harbor, followed in his wake and strove desperately to meet the same fate.

Slowly but steadily the two ships held on their course towards the Polynesian Archipelago, where lay in wait their powerful foe. The Varyag had reached Round Island, when at a distance of nearly two miles the Japanese flagship opened fire with one of her big guns. The aim of the gunners was true. Right amidships burst the great missile, doing terrible execution, and shell after shell followed with relentless rapidity. The Varyag, wheeling around in a small circle, responded dauntlessly with her 6-inch guns, but with little or no effect upon the battleship, and now Admiral Uriu's cruisers joined in the cannonade. Within half an hour of this fearful raking fire her bridge was shot away and her sides were gaping with holes, but she kept afloat and still withstood the onslaught, endeavoring heroically but in vain to find an opening by which to break through and escape out to sea. At last, after an hour's terrible pounding, she was compelled reluctantly to give up the attempt as hopeless, and, taking refuge among the islands, with difficulty crept back into Chemulpo harbor, disabled beyond repair and with her decks reduced to veritable shambles. Her desperate struggle had not left the enemy utterly scathless, for there seems no doubt that one of the Japanese cruisers received a good deal of damage.

In the meanwhile the little Korietz, with extraordinary bravery, but with absolutely pathetic ineffectiveness, had been attempting to imitate the manœuvres of her consort and to do some injury to the big ships of the enemy. As well might a warrior with a popgun try to engage a battery of field artillery. It was magnificent, it certainly was not war. The range was hopelessly beyond her powers, and perhaps it was the bitterest drop in the cup of her commander and crew that the Japanese soon ceased to pay her any attention at all, concentrating all their efforts upon the more dangerous Varyag. When that vessel retreated at length into harbor, the Korietz followed her unharmed but undisgraced.

The wounded of the Varyag, numbering 4 officers and 214 men, were removed in boats to the British, Italian and French warships. The dead were left on board, for it was decided to scuttle the ship. At the same time arrangements were made to blow up the Korietz. Just as the Japanese fleet again appeared in sight the latter vessel blew up, and the shattered hull, after one great burst of flame and smoke, sank beneath the waters. The Varyag refused to sink so easily, and the Russian sailors therefore again boarded her to set her on fire. After a little more than an hour she had burned down to the water's edge and, heeling over, disappeared. The Sungari was the next to meet its fate, the Russians setting fire to it also to prevent its falling into the hands of the enemy.

The Japanese fleet then steamed out to sea once more, having left behind it no further obstacle to the landing of troops on the west coast of Korea.

Thus within forty-eight hours of the rupture of diplomatic relations, the first decisive action in the struggle for sea-supremacy had been fought, and the result left to the enterprising and intrepid Navy of Japan not only the immense moral value of a victory well contrived and unerringly accomplished, but the solid material advantage of a superiority in fighting strength which was incontestable.

No Rest for Russia—Port Arthur—The Russian Forts—Another Russian Disaster—Second Night Attack—Japanese Daring—Demons of the Storm—Moral Effect—Bottling up Port Arthur—The Fireships—Fire and Searchlight—Rain of Shell—Russians Still in the Woods—The Blockade—Transport Problems—Secrecy of Japanese Movements—Admirable Arrangements—A Close Censorship—Japanese Landings—Terrible Weather—At Ping-Yang—Perfect Organization—At Seoul—The Korean Emperor—A Japanese Protectorate—Advantage to Japan—Railway Building—Japanese Rapidity—Dismay at St. Petersburg—Alexeieff Criticised—General Kuropatkin—Confessions of Weakness—Desperate Efforts—On the Yalu—Round Niuchwang—Martial Law Proclaimed.

If the Russians at Port Arthur imagined that an enemy so resourceful as Admiral Togo had shown himself to be would rest quietly upon his oars after the conspicuous successes of the 8th and 9th of February, they were greatly mistaken. The first course of action for the victor in such a case is to keep on striking and to give the harassed foe no rest—in the striking words of Captain Mahan, to "benumb the victim." This was precisely the plan of campaign adopted by the Japanese, who continued to show the same remarkable skill and coolness of calculation, and the same dash and daring in execution as had characterized their naval operations from the first. On the other hand, the disorganization of the Russian fleet, and of the defending force at Port Arthur generally, showed itself more markedly than ever, and the incapacity of the Czar's commanders conspired to aid the enterprise of the Japanese.

Before entering, however, upon a narrative of the attacks upon Port Arthur which followed in swift succession upon the great battle of the 9th, it may be well to give some description of that famous stronghold. The inner harbor is oval in shape, and two miles long from east to west and a mile in breadth from north to south. The shores are protected by hills, which the Russians had assiduously fortified since they obtained occupation of the place. Entrance is afforded from the south by a narrow channel, so narrow indeed that while it has the advantage of being easily held against an enemy, it has the counteracting disadvantage of being somewhat difficult of navigation for the ships of the defending fleet. The mouth of this channel is protected on the southwest by two dangerous reefs, which would prove a snare to an unwary foe; while on the eastern shore there stands the hill of Kwang-chin-shan, 250 feet above the sea level, upon which frown the guns of several powerful batteries. Upon the lower slopes the Russians had established two batteries of Canet quick-firing 5.5in. and 7.5mm. guns, with a torpedo and searchlight station. The entrance channel is flanked along the northwest by a narrow strip of land which goes by the expressive name of the "Tiger's Tail," and this strip was fortified with battery of 7 Canet 5.5in. quick-firing guns. The distance from the Pinnacle Rock, one of the reefs above mentioned as situated at the western corner of the entrance passage, to the opposite shore, is nearly 350 yards. In its course the channel narrows, till at one point it is only 500 feet in width, but it widens out again at the northern end. At the northeastern end lies the basin, or East Port. There is accommodation here for about a dozen large men-of-war, and on the north side stands the one dry dock for repairing large vessels of which Port Arthur can boast. On the other side of the channel, which at this point is 430 yards in width, lies the mouth of the harbor proper, facing the southeast. To enter it, ships have to round the Tiger's Tail, not a particularly easy process for men-of-war of the largest size. Nor is the harbor itself yet fitted to receive a great fleet. When the Russians took it over they found that it was too shallow for berthing vessels even of a moderate size; and in spite of the feverish activity of their engineers in the last year or two, the dredging operations have not proceeded far enough to allow of accommodations for more than three battleships, together with minor craft. Hence the Port Arthur squadron has generally been disposed either in the East Port, or basin, or in the open roadstead outside the entrance channel. It was indeed the position of the Russian ships in this latter anchorage that gave the Japanese the opportunity for their fatal torpedo attack on the 8th.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Two hours later the Hayatori arrived upon the scene and performed the same gallant feat. Still facing the terrors of the storm, she approached the harbor entrance and stealthily crept up to the fleet, which lay helplessly at anchor. At last the audacious little destroyer was discovered. Two vessels opened a fierce fire upon her, but without hesitation, though at the same time with the most deliberate coolness and perfect aim, she discharged a torpedo at the nearest ship. The missile was seen to explode, and then, like her consort, the Asagiri, fled safely to sea once more, after spiritedly returning the hot fusillade directed upon her from all quarters.

In the characteristically restrained dispatch in which Admiral Togo described this brilliant feat of arms by the Asagiri and the Hayatori, he remarked:—"It is impossible to state the definite material results, owing to the darkness, but the moral effect was certainly considerable." From other sources, however, something was learned of the character of the material damage done to the Russian fleet Not only was a scout destroyed, but the cruiser Boyarin was injured by one of the torpedoes, and the Volunteer Fleet steamer Kayan had her upper works knocked about by a shell from one of the Russian guns. The exact amount of the damage done was not revealed on the Russian side, but there can at all events be no doubt that, in the words of the Japanese Admiral, the moral effect was considerable. It is clear from the safe return of these two small destroyers out of the very jaws of the enemy, that the Russian gunners had become demoralized, and the ineffectiveness of Admiral Alexeieff's own torpedo flotilla in the face of an attack which it was peculiarly designed to meet points strongly in the same direction.

But still a third harassing attack was in store for the Russian fleet. While one division of his torpedo-boat destroyers was thus carrying confusion and dismay into the ranks of his opponents, Admiral Togo, holding his main fleet within the shelter of the Elliot Islands, was quietly preparing for a larger and more far-reaching coup. This was to be nothing less than the operation of "corking up the bottle," in other words sinking ships at the entrance to Port Arthur Harbor, and blocking the fairway against passage of the Russian ships. It was an enterprise in some ways similar to the famous exploit of Lieutenant Hobson of the Merrimac at Santiago-de-Cuba during the Spanish-American War, but in the present case the blockading fleet attained less success.

Five old steamers were chartered for the purpose. Their names were the Tenshin Maru, the Bushu Maru, the Buyo Maru, the Hokoku Maru, and the Jinsen Maru. Two of these, under the names of the Rohilla and the Brindisi, were formerly in the service of the Peninsular and Oriental Company. It may here be remarked that the spirit animating all ranks of the Japanese in this war was shown by the numbers of volunteers who came forward for the dangerous task of manning the doomed steamers. The difficulty, indeed, was not to find sufficient men, but to select the limited force required without giving offence to the remainder of the host who sought to share in the glorious risk. At last, however, the officers and crews were chosen, and the vessels, having been carefully filled with heavy stones and explosives, left for Port Arthur on the morning of the 23rd of February, escorted by a flotilla of torpedo boats and destroyers.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

In spite, nevertheless, of all the natural difficulties of the situation, the Japanese proceeded steadily and systematically to "weave the crimson web of war." Nothing has been more remarkable in the course of these operations both by sea and by land than the complete secrecy with which the Mikado's strategists have veiled all their important movements until the calculated blow has been struck. In this, of course, they have been aided by their speedy acquisition of the command of the sea. All the correspondents who have proceeded to the seat of war agree in paying mortified tributes to the thoroughness of the Japanese press censorship. For weeks together a great army of "specials" were condemned idly to kick their heels at Nagasaki, while before their eyes transport after transport, crowded with soldiery, was leaving that port for unknown destinations. It was, however, generally evident on the face of the broad facts of the situation, that the main objective of the Japanese armies at that time was the west coast of Korea; for though the ports in the district were undoubtedly difficult of access on account of the ice, the condition of things on the Liao-tung Peninsula, the other probable place of disembarkation, was very much worse.

Before the end of February over forty transports sailed from Nagasaki, and a still larger embarkation went on at Ujina, near Hiroshima, where a great force of horse, foot, and artillery were steadily detrained every day and sent on board. The admirable arrangements made by the Japanese directors of mobilization and transport were the theme of universal praise among unprejudiced observers. Everything had been carefully thought out beforehand; all the necessary material was ready; and consequently, when war broke out, there was no confusion, no undue haste—only the ordered bustle of men who knew exactly what they had to do and how it was to be done, down to the veriest detail. Special wharves had been prepared and were in position within a few days, with railway lines laid upon them, connecting them with the main lines over which the troops travelled from the interior, so that the trains could be brought down almost to the water's edge. Here the soldiers were detrained, and, after a meal, embarked upon lighters and steam launches, and were conveyed swiftly to the ships to which they were assigned. These transports averaged 6,000 tons in burden, and were excellently fitted up for their purpose. An important part of the vessels' equipment in each case was a number of large surf-boats or sampans, about the most useful form of boat possible for landing troops in the shoal waters of the Korean harbors.

What was taking place in the meanwhile on the other side of the channel, and particularly upon the western coast of the Hermit Kingdom? We now know something of the strength and the disposition of the Japanese forces, although right up to the last moment before the general advance only the smallest items of information were allowed to pass through the narrow-meshed net of the censorship.

According to the most trustworthy accounts, however, there seems little doubt that the chief point of disembarkation of the Mikado's army was Chinampo, a small and obscure treaty port situated about 150 miles north of Chemulpo. We have already related the landing of the Japanese advance guard at Chemulpo on February 8th, before the naval battle which resulted in the destruction of the Varyag and the Korietz. This force, which belonged to the 12th Infantry Division under General Inouye, and consisted of 2,500 men, was billeted at once in the little town, and was followed during the next few days by the remainder of the Division, with transport corps, train, and engineers. When the Mikado's advisers had been assured of the success of the initial naval operations and of Admiral Togo's supremacy at sea, a small expedition was immediately landed near Haiju, a place situated about half-way between Chemulpo and Chinampo, and sent forward by the Seoul-Wiju road to seize Ping-Yang, a strategical point the importance of which was amply demonstrated in the Chino-Japanese war. The main body of General Inouye's Division followed with all possible speed from Chemulpo.

The hardships which these troops had to face were terrible indeed. The weather was at its worst. Heavy rain was succeeded by frost, and on the top of the frost came snow, and cruel blinding blizzards, in the teeth of which the little Japs, each man burdened with a weight of 100 lbs., had to struggle as best they could. In the circumstances the achievement of these forerunners of the Mikado's main army did an admirable piece of work. They did a steady march of 25 miles a day, bivouacking in the dirty Korean villages by night. At last, after four or five days, the force reached Ping-Yang and proceeded with all expedition to fortify it against possible attack. By the end of February a considerable body of troops was in occupation of Ping-Yang, and patrols were being pushed northwards to Anju.

The seizure of this strong position, providing as it did against any immediate danger from the north, enabled the Japanese to land higher up the coast than Chemulpo, and henceforth the main work of disembarkation in this quarter was carried on at Chinampo, access to which is gained by an arm of the sea called the Ping-Yang Inlet.

Here we find the complement of the operations which at Nagasaki and Ujina excited such keen admiration on the part of foreign critics. Perfect order and discipline characterized the disembarkation of the Japanese, as it had characterized their embarkation. The Pink-Yang Inlet is difficult of navigation at the best of times, but the inherent difficulties were enormously enhanced at this period of the year by the drift ice, which rendered landing an awkward and, in some cases, a hazardous undertaking. But the Japanese showed that admirable forethought which has characterized every step they have taken, and the transports brought with them large numbers of pontoon wharves, which enabled the troops to disembark from the sampans at some distance from the shore, and to march easily on to firm land. Here the hardy Japanese, in spite of the severe cold, bivouacked for the most part in the open, and were then pushed forward with all possible rapidity towards Ping-Yang. By the middle of March, as far as can be estimated, at least 80,000 men had landed in Korea ready to advance northwards as soon as the weather would permit; General Kuroki, commanding the 1st Army Corps, assuming the direction of affairs until the arrival of Baron Kodama, the Chief of the General Staff, who had been appointed Commander-in-Chief.

In the meanwhile a strong force, under General Inouye, had marched upon Seoul, and without difficulty overawed the feeble Emperor and his corrupt Court. On the 12th of February M. Pavloff, whose name had for so long been a word to conjure with in Korea, left the capital for Chemulpo under the humiliating protection of a Japanese guard. M. Pavloff, it is said, was thunderstruck by the news of the disasters to the Russian navy, and by the sudden revelation of the real strength of the hitherto despised Island Empire. It was now clear to the world, and not least to his dupes, the Koreans, that the diplomatic bluff in which he, in common with his administrative chief, Admiral Alexeieff, had been indulging for so long was ludicrously out of proportion to the naval and military preparations which would ultimately have to support it. But the power of this able man at the Court of Seoul, though broken for the moment, was not by any means destroyed. So well had he done his work that even in the hour of Japan's triumph he still managed to find tools in the corrupt servants of the Emperor, and when he had taken his departure for Shanghai more than one attempt to communicate with him had to be frustrated by the Japanese.

For the time being, however, the star of Japan was unquestionably in the ascendant at Seoul. The Emperor hastened to congratulate the Mikado on the victory of his fleet, and assured him that in view of Korea's position her satisfaction equalled that of the Japanese. At the same time the Korean local officials were ordered by the central Government to give every facility to the invading troops.

But a more definite acknowledgment of Japanese supremacy followed. On February 23rd an important agreement was signed at Seoul by M. Hayashi, the Minister of the Mikado, and General Yi-Chi-Yong, the Korean Minister for Foreign Affairs. By the terms of this Protocol, Korea, "convinced of Japan's friendship," undertook to adopt the advice of the Japanese Government in regard to administrative reform "with a view to consolidating the peace of the Orient." On the other hand, Japan guaranteed the safety of the Imperial family and the independence and territorial integrity of Korea. In pursuance of this provision, the fourth Article declared that an encroachment by a third Power, or an internal disturbance resulting in danger to either of these interests, would justify prompt measures on the part of Japan, who would receive assistance from Korea, and in order to give effect to such action Japan might occupy strategical points in Korea if necessary.

The object of this agreement was, of course, to regularize Japan's position in the eyes of the Powers and at the same time to give a sop to the dignity of Korea. Its most important point, as far as the future was concerned, was the definite guarantee on the part of Japan of the independence and territorial integrity of the Hermit Kingdom. The significance of this action of the Mikado's Government, as foretelling the lines of their permanent policy in the event of a final victory over the forces of the Czar, was heightened by the visit to Seoul a few weeks afterwards, on a special mission, of Japan's most famous statesman, the Marquis Ito. The attention was reciprocated by the dispatch of a special envoy from the Korean Court to Tokio. The most important immediate effect, however, of the complete ascendancy now acquired by Japan at Seoul was of military rather than of civil interest. This was the granting of a concession to the Japanese under Article 4 of the Protocol, for the construction of the projected railway between Seoul and Wiju, on the Yalu River, while at the same time arrangements were made for the completion of the southern portion of the line between Seoul and Fusan, a port at the southern extremity of Korea.

Here the marvelous organization of the Japanese War Office came into evidence once more. All the preparations for acting upon this concession had already been made. The material which had been intended for the construction of some unimportant railways in Japan was at hand ready to be transferred to the seat of war, and the engineer and pioneer corps only waited for the conclusion of the necessary formalities to begin operations. On March 8th a body of 8,000 men started work on the line between Seoul and Wiju, and the enterprise was conducted at high pressure, the material being conveyed with all possible speed by steamers from Japan. The value of this railway for strategical purposes will be obvious to anyone who studies the map; and, more fortunate than the Russians, the Japanese, provided that they could hold the northern part of Korea at all, were not likely to be faced with the difficulties which had proved so embarrassing to their enemy, in the shape of brigands and train-wreckers, in Manchuria. The completion of the whole line as far as Fusan would furthermore make them practically independent of sea transport for men as well as supplies, except, of course, as far as the narrow Korean Channel is concerned.

It will thus be seen that, considering the inevitable delay due to the severity of the season, the preparations for a general advance by the Japanese army had been conducted with remarkable celerity and success, and that by the middle of March great progress had been made.

One of the first consequences of the reverses at Port Arthur was a change in the commands. The unexpected collapse of the Russian navy under the attacks of the despised Japanese caused grave searchings of heart at St. Petersburg, and there can be no doubt that the Czar himself was greatly shocked by the revelation both of the lack of readiness of his fleet and of the strange paralysis of enterprise on the part of the Admiral in command. It was not long before the Imperial displeasure was visited upon this officer, Admiral Starck. On the 16th of February he was formally superseded, and Admiral Makaroff, Commander-in-Chief at Kronstadt, and a sailor of proved energy and skill, was appointed to the command of the Pacific Fleet in his place. The official reason, indeed, which was given out for Admiral Starck's recall was "ill-health," but this ingenious euphemism deceived nobody, the less so because the same mysterious complaint simultaneously seized hold of Rear-Admiral Molas, his second Chief of the Staff, who was recalled in the same Imperial Ukase.

The Viceroy himself did not escape criticism at the hands of the Russian public, and in official circles at St. Petersburg keen censure was bestowed upon him for his share in the disasters which had befallen the fleet under his control; but he still appeared to retain the confidence of his master the Czar. It soon became apparent, however, that the military problem in Manchuria presented difficulties of its own hardly less embarrassing than those which were being experienced at sea, and as the magnitude of the task dawned upon the Czar and his advisers, it was deemed necessary to take drastic measures. On February 21st, therefore, the celebrated General Kuropatkin, Minister for War, and the first Russian military strategist of the day, was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the land forces in the Far East. It was carefully explained that Admiral Alexeieff, as a naval officer, could not be expected to conduct great operations on land, but it was apparent to everyone that as these land operations were now destined finally to decide the issue of the great conflict, the direction of the whole war on the Russian side had virtually passed to General Kuropatkin.

Some slight account of this famous captain may not be out of place here. Like so many of Russia's distinguished men, both in the past and in the present, Alexis Nikolaievitch Kuropatkin has owed his rise rather to merit than to influence. His family was indeed a noble one, but it was little known, and his early advancement in the service was due to his own ability and industry, and not to high connections. When quite young, however, he was fortunate enough to attract the attention of the celebrated Skobeleff, and he became a great favorite as well as a zealous disciple of that famous cavalry leader. His opportunity came in the Russo-Turkish War, where he displayed notable dash and gallantry, risking his life recklessly in the terrible conflict at Plevna. In crossing the Balkans he captured a large Turkish force, and was promoted to the command of a division. Towards the close of the war he became Chief of the Staff to Skobeleff, and in the campaign against the Turkomans, which followed, and which resulted in the conquest of Turkestan, he served that great General in the same capacity. His rise was indeed remarkably rapid; promotion came to him while he was young and active enough to make the best use of it; and although he had held the highest position in the army—the Ministry for War—for some years, his age was now only fifty-six. Like most successful men, he was not without his critics and detractors—it was said indeed that among these was to be found Admiral Alexeieff himself, and that there was no love lost between the two—but there can be no doubt of the General's immense popularity with the army. His appointment to the supreme command caused a universal feeling of relief to spread not only throughout the Service, but throughout all classes of society in Russia, while at the same time it proved that the real seriousness of the task which lay then in the Far East had at last been grasped by the Czar's Government.

For a time indeed the haughty disdain of their puny foe, which had characterized Russian official circles before the war, was succeeded by a feeling of acute pessimism. To prepare the public for the worst, an official communique was issued at St. Petersburg, in which, after an outburst of well affected indignation against the so-called treachery of the enemy, the people were warned that much time was necessary in order to strike at Japan blows "worthy of the dignity and might of Russia," while the state of unpreparedness on land as well as at sea was revealed in the phrase, "the distance of the territory now attached and the desire of the Czar to maintain peace were the causes of the impossibility of preparations for war being made a long time in advance." Simultaneously with the issue of this extraordinary confession came the news that Admiral Alexeieff with his staff had left Port Arthur and proceeded to Harbin, at the junction of the Manchurian railway and the branch line to Vladivostock, there to effect a concentration of all the available Russian forces.

These facts combined were generally taken as indicating the intention of the Czar's Government to abandon Port Arthur and Southern Manchuria, for the time being, to their fate, and to make the first real stand against the enemy on the borders of Eastern Siberia. Desperate, however, as the situation appeared to be in these early days of the war, it undoubtedly improved somewhat in the next few weeks, and the delay which the severe climatic conditions imposed upon the Japanese advance necessarily aided the Russians. General Linevitch, commander of the Siberian Army Corps, to whom the direction of military affairs was entrusted pending the arrival of General Kuropatkin, made desperate exertions to collect an effective force as far south as possible, and it was regarded as highly probable, from such scraps of news as were allowed to creep through the censorship, that by the third week of March he had at his disposal in Southern Manchuria a force of about 50,000 men, the bulk of which was concentrated at Liao-Yang, some forty or fifty miles below Mukden.

At the same time a smaller body of troops held the Yalu River, and patrols were sent southwards. As early as February 28th, one of these patrols, consisting of three Cossacks under the command of Lieutenant Lonchakoff, came into touch with a Japanese patrol outside Ping-Yang. The Japanese retreated, and the Russians, after advancing within 700 paces of the town, retired also before the sharp fire directed upon them from the walls. This was the first land skirmish of the war; it was a small affair of outposts only; and a long interval was to elapse before a more serious conflict could become possible.

Important, however, as were the events occurring in Korea, it was felt by experts in Europe that the most momentous developments on land were destined to take place on the western shore of the Liao-tung Peninsula, and that the advance upon the Yalu was really intended to cover a blow at a spot more vital to Russia's power. But here, by the nature of things, the movements of the Japanese could not be so rapid. As already indicated, the ice-bound condition of the Liao-tung coast prevented any landing operations in that quarter before the end of March or the beginning of April, when the frozen belt usually begins to break up. As soon as the advancing spring brought about the changed state of affairs it was apparent that a descent in force would become practicable to the Japanese both at Kinchau in Society Bay, where the peninsula narrows down to a mere neck of land, and, more important still, at Niuchwang, the treaty port at the north of the gulf. At either of these spots it would be comparatively easy to cut the Manchurian railway and sever communication between Port Arthur and the Russian headquarters, but the seizure of Niuchwang would be of much greater consequence than that of Kinchau, as it would place the invading army within easy striking distance of Mukden itself. Furthermore, the very process of the break up of the ice at Niuchwang, as long as it lasts, is favorable in some respects to the landing of an army. In winter the river is frozen out to sea for a considerable distance, and thus, when the spring arrives, the estuary presents the appearance of several square miles of moving ice-floes, tossed hither and thither by the swift and devious currents, and rendering the task of laying mines for the defence of the port practically impossible. Another advantage possessed by the Japanese in attacking from this quarter lay in the physical character of the country and in the friendliness of its inhabitants. The boggy nature of the land threatened to deprive the Russian cavalry of half its usefulness, while it was eminently suited for the movements of infantry, in which Japan found her greatest strength; on the other hand, the Japanese had made themselves very popular with the inhabitants during their war with China, and could depend upon the natives for ample supplies.

The extreme probability on all these grounds of a Japanese descent upon Niuchwang was doubtless evident to the Russians themselves, for they made great exertions to put the port into a state of defence, and their concentration at Liao-Yang, fifty miles or so to the north, was clearly designed to meet danger from this quarter. Niuchwang itself, however, is not very easily defended against a strong force attacking from the sea. The forts are of little avail against the guns of powerful men-of-war; and therefore, although General Kondrotovitch, the able officer in command, had done his best to strengthen the defences of the town, and was said to have some twenty or thirty thousand troops at his disposal by the end of March, it seemed clear that this was a vitally weak spot in Russia's extended front. On Monday, March 28th, the Russian authorities at Niuchwang declared martial law in this "neutral port" in the following terms:

According to an order issued by the Viceroy of his Imperial Majesty in the Far East, the Port of Ying-kow has been proclaimed under martial law. Until the publication of the order the following regulations will be enforced, and will be brought into immediate operation:

(1) Martial law extends over the town and port of Ying-kow, over the whole population, without distinction of nationalities.

(2) All passengers and cargoes arriving must undergo examination. For this purpose steamers, sailing vessels and junks, having entered the mouth of the river, must anchor at a distance of six miles below the fort. A steam-launch, during daylight, with a naval and Customs officer on board, will meet the vessels at that spot. They will examine the vessels and conduct them to berths allotted by the Customs officers.

(4) It is prohibited to export to any ports of Japan or Korea articles of military contraband.

(5) When exporting articles to neutral ports the shipper must deposit with the Customs security equal to the value of the cargo, as a guarantee that the cargo shall not be reshipped from a neutral port to Japanese or Korean ports.

(6) Lightships and leading marks will temporarily cease to be used at the mouth of the river.

(7) When dealing with articles of contraband of war, the regulations sanctioned by his Majesty on February 14th, 1904, are to serve for the guidance of the military and civil authorities of the town and port of Ying-kow, who must be guided by the published regulations defending the administration of the provinces.

(8) If beans and beancake are exported, a sum equal to twice their value must be deposited with the Customs.

Firing on the Unarmed—Snowstorms and Bitter Frost—Reconnoitring at Vladivostock—At the Mouth of the Golden Horn—Careful Japanese Calculation—Bombardment at Long Range—Russian Ships Lying Low—Makaroff to the Rescue—A Chance for Russian Torpedoes—Sea Fight at Close Quarters—Severe Casualties—Another Hot Fight—Unprecedented Japanese Daring—Carnage Indescribable—Makaroff Outpaced—A Useless Prize—Bombardment by Wireless Telegraphy—Port Arthur a Hell—Golden Hill Silenced—Terrific Missiles—A Vivid Picture—Blood, Blood Everywhere—Further Naval Movements—Hoist with its own Petard—Another Attempt to "Bottle"—Makaroff's Feint—Wary Enemies—Russians Taking Heart—Individual Heroism.

We must now return to the naval operations; but before dealing with the proceedings of Admiral Togo's fleet off Port Arthur, it will be well perhaps briefly to follow the fortunes of the Russian cruiser squadron stationed at Vladivostock, of which so much had been expected as an agency for the destruction of Japanese commerce on the high seas. The first news received of these cruisers after the outbreak of war did indeed appear to bear out the hopes which the Russians had entertained of them in this respect; but after one solitary exploit—the sinking of a Japanese merchantman—the squadron disappeared from view altogether, and for several weeks its movements became one of the most remarkable mysteries of a mysterious situation. It will be remembered that the vessels composing the squadron were the powerful first-class cruisers, the Gromoboi, the Bogatyr, the Rossia, and the Rurik, and the whole was under the command of Captain Reitzenstein, formerly the commander of the Askold. Apparently the orders given to the Commodore were to cruise about the coast of Manchuria and Japan with the object of picking off stray merchantmen belonging to the enemy, and it was while he was acting in pursuance of these instructions that Captain Reitzenstein, on February 11th, fell in with two Japanese steamers—the Nakonoura Maru and the Zensko Maru, off the Tsugaru Straits, which lie between the islands of Hondo—the Japanese mainland—and Yezo. The larger of the two, the Nakonoura Maru, was an old ship, built in 1865, and of 1,084 tons burden; the smaller, the Zensko Maru, of only 319 tons, was quite modern, having been built in 1895. They were bound in company from Sokata, in the province of Nizan, to Otaru, in Yezo. The older and slower boat fell an easy prey to the Russian cruisers; but it would seem that she offered fight, for she was surrounded by the men-of-war, bombarded, and sunk, her crew being taken on board the Russian ships. This act called forth a great outburst of indignation in Japan and also in the United States; for though, of course, a merchantman can justifiably be captured as a prize of war, it is not usual to destroy an unarmed ship out of hand. The official telegrams, however, gave no particulars as to the extent of the resistance offered, and it must be allowed that if the Nakonoura Maru absolutely refused to surrender, the Russian men-of-war would have no option but to fire upon her and let her take the inevitable consequences. The Zensko Maru, more fortunate than her consort, showed the Russians a clear pair of heels and escaped safely to the shelter of the port of Fukuyama, in Yezo.

This insignificant feat of arms was the sole success in the way of the destruction of commerce which could be put to the credit of Captain Reitzenstein's squadron in the early days of the war, and the fates soon proved unkind to him. The stormy weather which inconvenienced the Mikado's fleet off Port Arthur raged in the Japan Sea with peculiar severity, and for three days after the destruction of the Nakonoura Maru the Russian squadron flew before a heavy gale, aggravated by snowstorms and bitter frost. An official message from Admiral Alexeieff reporting these facts was the last authentic news of the Vladivostock squadron that reached the outside world for many weeks. Rumor upon the subject was, of course, busy in Russia. Now it was reported that the activity of Captain Reitzenstein had reduced the over-sea trade of Japan to a standstill; now it was stated (on the best authority, of course) that the squadron had escaped, and evading the Mikado's ships in some marvelous fashion, had joined the Russian fleet at Port Arthur; still a third and wilder story made out that it was on its way to Europe to effect a junction with the Baltic fleet, which, it was declared, was to be dispatched to the Far East in July. The truth appears to have been that after infinite trouble and hardship Captain Reitzenstein managed once more to make Vladivostock, and that his storm-tossed ships took refuge again in the harbor, into which a free passage was maintained by the efforts of the ice-breakers.

The Japanese Commanders, however, were ignorant of the whereabouts of this dangerous force, and a strong squadron was therefore sent into Japan Sea to search it out, and, if possible, destroy it altogether. The fleet dispatched for this purpose consisted of one battleship and six cruisers, with a torpedo-destroyer flotilla. The cruisers, it should be observed, included the newly-acquired Nisshin and Kasaga, which had just been fitted up for war. Rear-Admiral Kamimura, Admiral Togo's second in command at Port Arthur, had direction of the operations, no word of which was allowed at the time to leak out through the ordinary channels. A careful patrol was made of the whole of the coast, both of Manchuria and Japan, several days of this close search finally bringing the Japanese squadron to the very mouth of Vladivostock Harbor itself. Considerable excitement was caused in Russia's northern stronghold when, at 8.50 on the morning of March 6th, without any previous warning of the approaching danger, the garrison perceived the hulls of seven great vessels loom upon the horizon to the south of Askold Island. The presence of the enemy so far north was wholly unexpected, and for some time the real character of the advancing squadron was in doubt. But within an hour all speculation was set at rest and the approaching vessels were seen to be flying the Japanese flag. The great size and imposing aspect of the new cruisers led the Russians to take them for battleships, whence they derived the mistaken idea that Admiral Togo was present himself with his main fleet. As a matter of fact, of course, the Japanese Commander-in-Chief, with scarcely diminished forces, was still watching Port Arthur as a cat watches a mouse, and the circumstance that he could without difficulty spare so powerful a squadron for operations in a far distant quarter of the theatre of war was at once a striking demonstration of Japan's naval strength and of the straits to which the Czar's fleet had been reduced.

By noon Admiral Kamimura's ships were half-way between the coast and Askold Island, making straight for Ussuri Bay, which lies to the southeast of Vladivostock. At the southern end of the peninsula on which the town and fortress of Vladivostock stand, and divided from it by a broad channel called the Bosphorus Strait, there is situated the Island of Kazakavitch. The Bosphorus Strait lies in a northwesterly direction, and on the north side of it are two spacious inlets, Patroclus Bay and Sobol Bay. Beyond these again lies the mouth of the Golden Horn, the Harbor of Vladivostock.

The Japanese squadron steamed right on into the Bosphorus Strait, and when opposite Patroclus Bay it assumed order of battle. Admiral Alexeieff, in his official dispatch to the Czar, declared that it took up a position 5-1/2 miles from the shore and out of range of the batteries; but the truth seems to be that, with the skill which so far has characterized all the Japanese naval operations, Admiral Kamimura manœuvred to secure a station, which, while it was sufficiently within range to enable him to do execution to his foe, was, on the other hand, outside any possible line of fire from the fortress guns, with their necessarily limited arc of training. These dispositions for attack argued not only careful calculation beforehand, but considerable knowledge of the construction of the Russian forts and of the position occupied by their ordnance.

At half-past one the Japanese ships opened fire with their big guns. Forts Suvaroff and Linievitch and the town along the valley of the River Obyasseniye were the main objects of the cannonade, and over these the great shells continued to burst for close upon an hour, while the guns of the defenders were reduced to inactivity and impotence by the baffling tactics of the Japanese Admiral. It is true that the bombardment was rather in the nature of a reconnaissance than a serious engagement, its aim being to induce the mysterious cruisers which were suspected of being within the harbor to issue forth and give battle; but it was an uncomfortable reminder to the Russians of the vulnerability of their powerful fortress from the sea and of the comparative immunity which a resourceful enemy might enjoy while making a dangerous attack. The only account which has been received of the damage done comes from Russian sources. It does not appear to have been serious. A house in the town was knocked to pieces by a 12-inch shell, and an unfortunate woman, who was inside at the time, was killed; another shell burst in the courtyard of the Siberian Fleet Company, slightly wounding five sailors; but this was set down as the limit to the depredation committed by the Japanese gunners. On the other hand, the Russians consoled themselves for the ineffectiveness of their own artillery by calculating that the bombardment, by its expenditure of 200 shells, cost their enemy at least $100,000, a somewhat minute and peddling method of reckoning up the balance of losses and gains in a great war. It should be added that the Czar did not fail to send the garrison a rather magniloquent telegram of congratulation, in which he spoke of their bravery under their baptism of fire.

The demonstration failed to disclose the whereabouts of the missing cruiser squadron, and a similar result attended the scouting operations of the Japanese torpedo destroyers which were engaged during the bombardment in searching Askold Island and the coast along the Ussuri Gulf. It seemed undoubted, however, in the light of subsequent events, that the Czar's ships were within the harbor at Vladivostock all the time, and that they felt unable to cope successfully with the powerful fleet which was so eagerly seeking their destruction. Admiral Kamimura, who retired southwards after the bombardment, returned on the following day to the same position, and attempted once more to lure the hidden cruisers into the open; but his blandishments were without avail. He then conducted a thorough search of Amur Bay, which lies on the west side of the peninsula, and finding no traces of the enemy, departed finally southwards, leaving Vladivostock, for the time, in peace.

The interest now shifted once more to Port Arthur, where exciting events were on the eve of occurring. Admiral Makaroff, the newly-appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific Fleet, arrived at Port Arthur on the 8th of March. This gallant Admiral's reputation stands almost as high with the navy as does General Kuropatkin's with the army. He has gained the confidence of the men who have served under him to an exceptional degree, and the immediate result of his presence at the seat of war was the infusion of a new spirit into the fleet and into the defending force generally. With immense vigor he proceeded to hurry on the repairs of the damaged warships and to prepare for active operations as the best means of restoring the somewhat shaken morale of the force under his command. The effect of this bolder and more enterprising policy soon became evident in the movements of the torpedo flotilla, which, under the feeble régime of Admiral Starck, had proved such a futile branch of the service. An opportunity for the trial of the new tactics came almost immediately, for within twenty-four hours after the hoisting of Admiral Makaroff's flag on the Askold, a renewed challenge came from the unresting enemy. It was destined to lead to one of the fiercest and most sanguinary combats yet experienced in the course of the war, a combat of such a close and hand-to-hand character as to recall the desperate struggles of earlier days, when the rival ships were grappled together and the final arbiters of victory were the cutlass and the boarding-pike.

At midnight on the 9th two divisions of the Japanese destroyer flotilla crept up once more towards the mouth of the entrance channel. The first division, consisting of three vessels, the Asashio, the Kasumi, and the Akatsuki, and under the command of Captain Asai, posted itself outside the entrance to guard against the approach of the Russian flotilla; while the second division occupied itself in laying a number of mines of a new pattern in various spots carefully selected beforehand for the purpose. These operations were carried out with entire coolness and success, in spite of the flashing searchlights and the fire from the forts—fire, however, which, according to Admiral Togo's official report, was desultory and ineffective. The fact was that on this occasion the Russians were determined to rely upon another weapon than garrison ordnance. Admiral Makaroff decided to give his torpedo destroyers the chance for which they must have longed under the nerveless leadership of Starck, and to send them forth to deliver a counter-attack upon the audacious foe.

A flotilla of six of these vessels, under the command of Captain Matoussevitch, accordingly issued from the harbor and went in quest of the Japanese. About 4.30 in the morning they fell in with Captain Asai's Division to the southwest of the Liau-tie-shan Peninsula. Though his foes outnumbered him by two to one, the Japanese commander did not hesitate for an instant, but, confident in the skill and courage of his men, he ordered an immediate attack, and the Asashio, the Kasumi, and the Akatsuki flew upon the enemy. A fierce struggle now ensued. The Japanese were heavily outnumbered, it is true, but their vessels were stronger individually than those of the Russians, and whereas the latter were armed only with 3-pounders, the former carried 6-pounders. Moreover, both officers and men had "found themselves" in previous conflicts, and were flushed with a consciousness of power and the memory of past victories. Their shooting, too was superior to that of their opponents, and speedily made its impression. On the other hand, the Russians, set free at last from the paralyzing influences which had so long cramped their energies, leapt to the contest with a glad eagerness, and fought with desperate gallantry. The combatants drew closer and closer to one another till they were within a few yards' distance, and the execution done by the quick-firing guns was terrible. So near did one of the Russian destroyers approach that some bluejackets standing on its deck were able to throw by hand a charge of explosive onto the bridge of a Japanese boat. Fortunately for the latter, it failed to explode, and the Japanese poured in a withering fire in revenge. Two of the Russian vessels were so severely mauled during the early part of the fight that they were compelled to sheer off and retreat to Port Arthur. The others kept up the conflict much longer, though they were hopelessly outclassed. But a perfect rain of shell and small shot fell upon the devoted Muscovites; their engines were rapidly becoming disabled; some of them were on fire; and at last it became manifest that if they were to be saved at all they must retire. Retreat, therefore, they did, fighting hotly all the way, with the enemy hanging upon their flanks like hounds upon their quarry. At length they came within the protection of the forts, and the heavy fire which was directed upon the Japanese from that quarter compelled them sullenly to give up their hold and in their turn retire.

The losses suffered by the Russian destroyers, in this hand-to-hand conflict, which lasted for about forty minutes, were not made public officially, but they must have been considerable, if we may judge from the damage incurred by their victorious assailants. Seven of the Japanese were killed and eight were wounded, some of them severely. Prominent among these was Engineer Minamisawa, of the Kasumi, who peculiarly distinguished himself, and who received injuries which were reported as likely to prove mortal. This gallant officer had already covered himself with glory in the first torpedo attack upon Port Arthur, and in the heroic but fruitless attempt to block the harbor entrance on the 23rd of February. The damage done to the Japanese destroyers themselves was serious enough, but not such as to unfit them for service in a few days. The Akatsuki received a shell in her stokehold, which burst a pipe and filled the compartment with scalding steam—an accident which alone accounted for four of the lives which were lost. All three destroyers had their hulls and upper works knocked about by the Russian shells, but the injuries were above the water-line, and were made good with little difficulty.

An even hotter and, for the Russians, more disastrous conflict took place a few hours later. As the second division of the Japanese flotilla, under Captain Tsuehiya, was leaving the roadstead at 7 A. M., having concluded its work of laying submarine mines, it encountered two other Russian destroyers which had been further out to sea to reconnoitre, and were now returning to Port Arthur. The Japanese at once threw themselves across the course of the newcomers to intercept them. The Russians, though on this occasion the outnumbered party, were nothing loth to face the danger which confronted them, and advanced to meet it with unquenchable ardor. An engagement of an even more terrible character than that held three hours previously now took place, and lasted for upwards of fifty-five minutes. The Russians fought with the courage of despair, and succeeded in putting one of their formidable opponents out of action for the time, though the damage done was not ultimately irreparable. This feat was performed by the Stereguschtshi, commanded by Captain Sergueieff, which was more heavily armed than her companion, and carried a 12-pounder in addition to her ordinary 3-pounders. A shell from this weapon struck the Japanese destroyer on the water-line and flooded two of her water-tight compartments. The supply of quick-firing ammunition was wetted and rendered useless, so that the vessel was unable to take any further active share in the conflict. Nor was this the only injury she sustained. Another shell burst upon her bridge, shivering it to fragments. One man was killed; but a lieutenant, a sub-lieutenant, and a signaller, who were on the bridge at the time, in some miraculous manner escaped. The terrible missile also carried away the binnacle and the engine-room telegraph instruments, and sent the davits flying.

It was clear that the 12-pounder of the Stereguschtshi was too dangerous a weapon to be neglected, and, therefore, the other Japanese destroyers concentrated their fire upon it, with the result that in a short time it was completely dismantled and put out of action. In these operations the Sazanami played the most conspicuous part. She drew up so close upon the Stereguschtshi's quarter that one of her bluejackets with extraordinary daring actually leaped on board the Russian vessel, cutlass in hand. Just as he landed on the deck Captain Sergueieff emerged from his cabin. The impetuous Jap rushed at him like a tiger, and, beating down his guard, struck him a fearful blow on the head with his cutlass, felling him to the deck. The Russian attempted to rise, but before he could do so his terrible opponent kicked him overboard and he sank beneath the waves.

Undismayed by the death of their captain, the crew of the Stereguschtshi still fought on with desperate gallantry against the raking fire of the Sazanami. The lieutenant took over the command, but immediately afterwards a shell carried away both his legs, and he fell dead at his post. To him succeeded the sub-lieutenant, who endeavored bravely but in vain to bring the little vessel, wounded almost to the death as it was, into the shelter of the forts. He almost succeeded in his heroic attempt, but the implacable foe was not to be shaken off. The man at the wheel fell mortally wounded, and as the young lieutenant stepped forward to take it from his dying grasp he became himself the target of the terrible fusillade and dropped dead among his fallen brothers. Now at last, with hardly a man out of her crew of fifty-five still living, the Stereguschtshi lay a helpless log upon the waters, awaiting the long-deferred capture, but the fire from the forts rendered the task of taking her in tow an extremely dangerous one. Nevertheless, a Japanese lieutenant and a party of bluejackets from the Sazanami boarded her with a rope and made her fast. The deck of the Russian destroyer presented a horrible spectacle. Everywhere lay the corpses of her gallant crew, in some cases terribly mutilated by shell. Even in the few hurried moments at his disposal the Japanese lieutenant was able to count thirty bodies; the appearance of the stokehold defied description. Two stokers jumped overboard, and were picked up by the Japanese. The only other survivors were two sailors, who, directly the enemy boarded the vessel, rushed out of the conning tower, and, taking refuge in the after cabin, locked themselves in and refused absolutely to surrender.

Now began the slow and laborious work of towing the captured boat out of range of the shore batteries, whose attentions were becoming embarrassing and dangerous. Moreover, a new peril threatened the Japanese. Admiral Makaroff, perceiving the plight of the Stereguschtshi, had hoisted his flag on the Novik, and sallied forth with that cruiser and the Bayan, to the rescue. The other destroyer, it should be mentioned, thanks to the diversion caused by the heroic stand made by her consort, had in the meantime managed to reach the harbor. Things began to look black for the Sazanami, as the Russian cruisers were rapidly approaching; but Admiral Togo was not to be caught napping, and his own cruiser squadron was not far away. Several of his ships advanced to the assistance of the plucky little destroyer, and finding himself outnumbered and outpaced, Makaroff reluctantly abandoned his attempt and steamed back to the protection of the forts.

The Sazanami, however, was not destined to save her prize. The sea was rough, and the Russian destroyer, riddled with holes, steadily began to fill with water. After two hours' towing it became apparent that her condition was desperate, and the Japanese were compelled to cut the rope. A few moments afterwards the hapless prize gave one last lurch and sank beneath the waves with her tragic freight of dead. It was impossible to reach the two men in the cabin, and they perished with their ship.

Thus ended one of the hottest conflicts yet experienced in the course of the naval fighting around Port Arthur. But this sanguinary affair was only the prelude to more important operations. Admiral Togo had made his arrangement for a bombardment of the town and fortress of the heaviest description, arrangements which, like the manœuvres of Admiral Kamimura at Vladivostock, were conceived in the spirit of the most scientific warfare. As long as the Russian fleet remained undestroyed he was under an imperative necessity to risk his ships as little as possible against the great guns of the Port Arthur batteries, but to conduct a successful bombardment without coming within the range of their fire presented obvious difficulties. An indirect cannonade from Pigeon Bay, on the southwest side of the Liau-tie-shan Peninsula, would indeed deprive the enemy of any opportunity of replying with effect, but on the other hand in ordinary circumstances the gunners of the attacking fleet would also have to aim very much at random, without being able to judge the results of their shooting. Nevertheless this difficulty was cleverly obviated by the Japanese Admiral. While stationing his battleships in Pigeon Bay he dispatched his cruiser squadron to take a position on the east side of Port Arthur Bay, at right angles to the line of fire, to observe the effects of the bombardment, and to communicate suggestions by wireless telegraphy during its progress. The post of the cruisers in turn was adroitly selected so that while they could see what was going on, they were outside the angle of fire of the forts.

These careful dispositions were completed by ten o'clock on the morning of the 10th, and at that hour once more "the red fire and smouldering clouds out brake." For close upon five hours a storm of shells was poured upon the devoted fortress. The defending guns attempted to return the fire, but their efforts were intermittent and ineffective. On the other hand, the great projectiles from the 12-inch guns of the Japanese battleships wrought immense havoc both in the forts and in the town. A shell burst close to the house of a lawyer named Sidorski, and wrecked the building; M. Sidorski himself was killed on the spot. The wife of Colonel Baron Frank, who was in the house at the time, sustained terrible injuries, and her daughter's head was blown off. A young lady named Waleritsch was so seriously wounded by another shell that she died soon after her removal to the hospital. An English advocate, a Mr. Newton, was blown to pieces. The house of General Volkoff was completely destroyed, and two sentries only just escaped death. A train which was entering the town from the North was struck by a 12-inch shell; the engine was shattered into a thousand fragments and the driver was killed. And now to add to the horrors of the situation, fires began to break out in various quarters of the town, and the panic-stricken inhabitants fled to the race course, where, behind the shelter of the hills, they were able to find some respite from the terrible tornado which had burst upon them.

While all this devastation was being hurled upon the town, the forts themselves were passing through a hot time. The Japanese, assisted by the skilful manœuvre before described, had found the range for their high angle fire perfectly, whereas the batteries of the defending force could do little or nothing in return. The official accounts issued from the Russian side, while admitting the severity when the bombardment visited the town, said little about the damage to the fortifications or the losses sustained by the garrison; but the reports received from other and independent sources, while varying a good deal in details, agreed in representing the total result as being of the most serious character. It is said that twenty soldiers were killed and that many more were wounded. The Governor of Port Arthur himself, General Stoessel, who was on the batteries during the hottest of the fire, had a narrow escape. A shell burst near to the spot on which he was standing with his staff, and bespattered the whole party with splinters and sand. The forts on Golden Hill suffered severely, and two guns were put out of action. Nor did the ships in the harbor come off scatheless. Heavy casualties among their crews were reported, and it was stated that the unfortunate Retvisan, which had already borne so much, received still further damage.

The Port Arthur journal, the Novi Krai, gave a terrible picture of the scenes on the cruiser Bayan.

"The bursting shells," said the writer, "bowled over man after man until the decks were slippery with blood. Amidst this hell the captain stood unmoved in the conning tower calmly telephoning his orders to the captains of the guns. His wonderful coolness had a remarkable influence on all the officers. The cockpit was soon crowded with wounded, thirty-nine men being brought down before the fight ended.

"Amid the crash of the guns, the hiss of the flying projectiles, and the thunder of their explosions, the smashing of splinters, and the din of the working engines, the surgeons labored quietly among the wounded on the hospital operating table. Although some of the men suffered frightful agony, few groans were heard, in spite of the fact that anæsthetics were only administered in one case."

For hours that to the heart-shaken inhabitants must have appeared interminable, the great shells, each of the enormous weight of 850 lbs., continued to hurtle through the air and to burst over the harassed stronghold. The sensations of a garrison in such circumstances are well described in a letter which a wounded Russian officer wrote from the hospital in Port Arthur to a friend in Russia. He is recounting his experiences of the first bombardment, but the account is so vivid and would apply so well to the more trying ordeal of the 10th of March that it will bear reproduction here.

"The sea," he says, "is quite white from the falling shells, and it is impossible to hear the words of command. I cry out until my voice becomes hoarse, but cannot make myself heard above the din. There are more than 150 cannon belching forth smoke, shell and death. There is a wild, choking sound from the machine guns. Amid the smoke, steam and dust I hear a groan, it is that of a soldier whose nose has been torn away by the fragment of a shell. He is surrounded by stretcher bearers. Someone lays his hand on my shoulder, and I turn and see at my side a soldier, pale, and his lips trembling. He wishes to speak, but his tongue refuses to obey. He points with his finger, and I understand what has occurred.

"There beneath the cliff I hear a little battery of rapid firing guns, very small and elegant. There are 12,000 bullets speeding on their errand in sixty seconds. They are destined to defend our shores against the landing of an enemy. The orgy is at its height. The shells are bursting around us like fireworks at a feast. A whistle, a hiss, and a sharp ringing noise, as they rush through the air, then smoke and a smell of burning, while the sand dances from the earth. I turn from the battery and see a terrible picture. In the midst of the men a shell bursts. One soldier is disemboweled, and another is wounded in the head, a third is shrieking in the height of his delirium. One steel cannon is broken to pieces as though it were straw. An awful picture, with blood—blood everywhere."

At last, at two o'clock, the inferno ceased. A great calm succeeded to the thunder of the guns and the screams of the shells, and the civilians of Port Arthur slowly and timidly returned to their ruined homes. The separate divisions of the Japanese fleet rejoined one another, and after the most destructive bombardment yet inflicted upon the land defences of the Russian stronghold, they quietly steamed away southwards. While these events were taking place at Port Arthur a detached squadron of the Mikado's cruisers had proceeded northeast to Dalny, or Talienwan, as it used to be called, and destroyed the quarantine buildings erected by the Russians on the Sanshan Islands. Outside that port the Takasago and the Chihaya scouted the western coast of the entrance to Port Arthur in the hope that the bombardment would draw Admiral Makaroff's ships into the open; but no enemy could be found and the two cruisers then retired in the wake of the main squadron.

It was not long before a Russian vessel fell a victim to the mines laid by the Japanese destroyers at the harbor entrance on the night of March 9th. On the 16th the Skori, a torpedo-boat destroyer of the newest pattern, was entering the channel when she struck upon a contact mine and was blown up. Out of her crew of fifty-five men, only four were reported to have been saved.

After an interval of twelve days Admiral Togo made a renewed attack upon Port Arthur, the fifth in number since the outbreak of hostilities. It was not so serious an assault as the last, its real object being to tempt the Russian fleet away from the protection of the shore batteries and to give battle at sea. In this design it was unsuccessful, but incidently it was useful, as revealing the strength of the squadron Admiral Makaroff had at his disposal after the repairs which had been effected upon the damaged ships. At midnight on the 21st two Japanese destroyers were discovered by the searchlights approaching the outer roadstead. The guns of the batteries at once gave tongue, and a violent fire was directed against the daring craft, not only from the fortress but from the gunboats Bobe and Otvagni; which, according to Admiral Alexeieff's report to the Czar, compelled them to retire. A second flotilla crept up at 4 o'clock in the morning, and this too, it was claimed by the Viceroy, was repulsed. A different complexion, however, was put upon the operation by Admiral Togo's dispatch to his Government. The destroyers retired indeed, but seemingly not in consequence of the Russian fire, which left them unharmed, but as part of a preconceived plan to lure forth Admiral Makaroff's fleet. The Japanese Commander-in-Chief's words were: "The combined fleet acted according to program. Two flotillas of our destroyers were outside Port Arthur, as instructed, from the night of the 21st till the morning of the 22nd. Although during this time they were under the enemy's fire they did not sustain any damage." It is clear from this that the aim of the Russian gunners leaves much to be desired, for the attacking flotilla were able to cruise about in the roadsteads without being touched.

At eight o'clock on the morning of the 22nd the main fleet arrived off Port Arthur. The same tactics as were employed on the 10th were adopted on this occasion, but with some modification. Only two battleships, the Fuji and the Yashima, were sent to Pigeon Bay to undertake an indirect bombardment of the town; while the Admiral, with his main squadron, took up a position more convenient for an attack upon the Russian fleet should it put out to sea. The cannonade lasted again for several hours, but his main purpose, that of drawing Admiral Makaroff into the open, was not successful. At one period, indeed, the hopes of the Japanese ran high. The Russian fleet was seen to issue from the harbor as if ready for battle, with the cruiser Askold, flying the flag of the Commander-in-Chief, at their head. It was now observed that the available naval force of the Czar at Port Arthur consisted of five battleships and four cruisers, as well as destroyers, gunboats, and torpedo-boats. The battleships of course included the Pobieda, 12,674 tons, and the Sevastopol, 10,950 tons, which were undergoing repairs when the first battle took place. None of the five, it will be remembered, was equal to the Japanese battleships, either in size or in armament, and the cruiser strength was still more disproportionate. Nevertheless, they made a gallant show, and for a time it seemed as if they were prepared to come to close quarters on blue water. Admiral Makaroff, however, bold and enterprising as he is, did not feel in a position to take such a strong step, and, to the disappointment of the Japanese, he kept his ships well within the zone of protection afforded by the shore batteries, while he joined them in returning the fire of the enemy.

The objects of the two Admirals were indeed identical. Each sought to bring about a battle on his own terms, and each was too wary to be persuaded. The Russian attempted to lure his enemy within the range of the forts; the Japanese endeavored to draw the Russian away from the range of the forts; and neither was successful in his blandishments. Finally, Admiral Togo gave the order to cease firing, and his fleet retired southwards once more. The Russians claimed to have struck one of their opponent's battleships; but Admiral Togo in his report distinctly stated that his ships suffered no damage, though a good many shells fell near the Fuji in the course of the indirect bombardment.

Although Admiral Makaroff did not venture out to sea with his smaller squadron when the Japanese fleet was absolutely upon the spot, this did not prevent him from engaging in active operations of a much more daring character than any his predecessor had dreamt of. On the 26th, for example, he took out the whole of the ships under his command for a reconnaissance to the Hwang-Ching-Tau Islands, a group situated about thirty miles to the southwest of Port Arthur, a proceeding that must have heartened both officers and men considerably. No trace of the enemy's warships was discovered, but while the fleet was making its way back to Port Arthur, the Novik fell in with a small merchant steamer, the Hanien Maru, on board of which were a number of Japanese newspaper correspondents. The crew were transferred to the warship and the steamer was taken in tow and subsequently sunk. The whole Russian squadron returned safely to Port Arthur after this excursion without once coming in sight of the enemy.

But in the meantime the Japanese were busy with fresh plans. Unable to draw Admiral Makaroff away from the protection of the forts when the whole Japanese fleet was lying in wait, Admiral Togo determined to use another card in this game of skill. The project of corking up the bottle at Port Arthur, though a failure on the first attempt, had not by any means been abandoned, and on the very night of Admiral Makaroff's cruise to the Hwang-Ching-Tau Islands, a fresh effort was made to block the harbor entrance. It resulted in operations which, although again only partially successful, were most brilliantly executed, and were marked not only by consummate skill, but by acts of individual heroism and self-sacrifice of the most inspiring kind. Nor was the gallantry confined to one side alone. The Russians were not slow to accept the opportunities for glory vouchsafed to them by the daring of their foe, and one of the features of the conflict was the attack by a solitary torpedo-boat upon six of the Japanese flotilla.

Volunteers for Fireships—A Drama of Searchlights—The Devil's Caldron—The Sacrifice of Fire—Heroic Hirose—Undaunted by Death—Covering Themselves with Glory—Casualties Few but Terrible—The Hero of Japan—Channel Still Unclosed—The Shadows of Fate—The Great Catastrophe—The Story of the "Petropavlovsk"—A Double Trap—Captain Oda and his Mines—The "Bayan" to the Rescue—Preparing an Ambush—Makaroff Lured Out—Cutting off the Unwary—Weather Permitting—Into the Jaws of Death—Haphazard Fire—Rescue Work—The Character of the Explosion—Accounts of Survivors—Tribute from the Japanese—On Land—Chong-Ju—The Advance to the North—Concentration of Troops—Kuroki's Line of Front—The Russian Position—Russian Confidence.

As on the occasion of the first effort to block the harbor at Port Arthur, so upon the second a spirited competition took place among the Japanese officers and men for the honor of occupying the post of danger upon the fireships. The claim of the gallant men who had charge of the previous attempt to finish the work which they had so well begun was finally conceded, their Commander-in-Chief himself deciding the question. Four merchantmen, larger than those already sunk, had been filled with stones and explosives and were ready for the desperate enterprise. The whole fleet left the rendezvous on the 26th of March under the cover of night, and accompanied the fireships up to a distance of some miles from Port Arthur. There the Admiral gave his final orders, and escorted by a flotilla of eleven destroyers and six torpedo-boats, which were spread out fanwise in front of them, the doomed vessels started upon their last and proudest voyage.

It was midnight when they set forth, and there was no moon. An inky darkness brooded over the waters, which lay still and calm like a village pond. No sound was heard, no light was shown on the flotilla as, steadily and inexorably, it pursued its fateful passage over the silent sea. The only ray of light visible came from the distant searchlight on Golden Hill, set like the eye of a Cyclops, in the forehead of Port Arthur. Slowly and monotonously the broad refulgent beam swept backwards across the bay, throwing into strong relief every object upon which it fell within a radius of more than two miles. Every moment it seemed to the tense expectancy of the advancing force that their presence must be revealed, but still they held on their course with calm and patient courage, and still the slow minutes dragged along without any sign of suspicion on the part of the garrison. At last, when the Japanese had approached so near that they could make out the dim contour of the fortress and the surrounding heights, the moving light settled for a moment upon the lines of the foremost torpedo-boats. Another instant and a startling change had come over the scene. Swiftly the searchlight flashed up and down, backwards and forwards it plunged and replunged upon the stealthy foe until the whole flotilla, approaching with such grim determination, lay exposed to the view of the Russian sentries. The trumpets rang out, the garrison sprang to arms, and a storm of shot and shell once more burst forth from the great guns of Golden Hill.

As the gallant Japanese made straight for the harbor entrance the batteries on the Tiger's Tail joined in the fierce cannonade, and from more than a hundred guns a hail of shells was poured down, till the still waters of the bay were torn up into a maelstrom of foam, "white as the bitten lip of hate." But the calm resolution of the attacking force was undisturbed. The fan-like formation of the escorting flotilla opened out more widely, and the fireships, passing swiftly through, drove straight into the devil's caldron in front of them. A mile away stood the point for which they aimed, a mile charged every yard of it with destruction and death. But setting their teeth dauntlessly, intent only on gaining the fateful goal, the picked crews of the merchantmen pressed forward upon their desperate errand.

At last they reached the harbor mouth. The leading steamer, the Chiyo Maru, drove straight from the east side of the channel, heedless of the terrible fire of which she was the central target. Everything was ready; the anchor was dropped; the fuse was set; and swiftly but with precision the crew slipped into the boats and made off. A moment later a terrific explosion rent the ship from stem to stern, and down she sank through the boiling waters.

The next to take her position was the Fukui Maru, which, edging to the port side of the Chiyo Maru, let go her anchor. Now occurred one of the most heroic acts which had yet characterized the course of the war—an act which for cool and devoted gallantry has never been surpassed in the annals of European seamanship. Waiting until the vessel was securely anchored, the boatswain, Sujino, went calmly down to the magazine to light the fuse. Just at that moment the Russian torpedo-boat Silni approached and discharged a Whitehead torpedo, which struck the Fukui Maru full in the bows and tore a gaping hole in her below the water-line. Sujino was killed, but his comrades on deck were unaware of his fate. All they knew was that the Russians themselves had done their work for them and that the vessel was settling down on the very spot designed for its destruction by Admiral Togo. Commander Hirose, therefore, ordered his men to take to the boats, but before he left the ship himself he determined to find the brave Sujino if possible and save him from death. The steamer was fast sinking; the water was pouring in at her bows like a mill race; and she was the target of a perfect tornado of fire from the forts; but the gallant commander searched through her three times for the missing man before he would give up the quest. At last it became clear that further search was useless. The vessel was on the point of going down, and reluctantly Hirose clambered into one of the boats. As the crew pushed off the Fukui Maru went down by the head. Success, however, was dearly purchased. The delay had enabled the Russians to concentrate their fire upon the boats with deadly effect. The chief victim himself was Commander Hirose. A shell struck him on the head, carrying away the greater part of his body, and leaving in the boat only a shapeless fragment of torn and blackened flesh.

In the meanwhile, the other steamers were taking up their stations in the order provided beforehand. The Yihiko Maru, regardless of the terrible fire from the forts, steamed in on the port side of the Fukui Maru and cast anchor in her turn. The fuse was duly set and lighted; officers and crew set off in the boats; and the ship blew up like her fellows and sank in the channel. Now came the opportunity of the fourth and last of this devoted fleet, the Yoneyama Maru. The difficulties of the channel and the violence of the enemy's fire led her to take a devious course, but the skill with which she was steered excited universal admiration. Her commander drove her through on the starboard side of the sunken Chiyo Maru and then she was compelled to turn back and slip between that ship and the Fukui Maru. On her way she ran right upon a Russian destroyer and engaged it at close quarters for a few moments, but her duty was not to fight but to sink at a spot selected. Escaping therefore, from the clutches of the enemy, she rounded the Fukui Maru and the Yahiko Maru and finally brought up in the very centre of the fairway. There her crew prepared to send her to the bottom, and if the operation could have been carried out successfully there can be little doubt that the whole enterprise would have gained its object, and that the channel would, at least temporarily, have been completely blocked. But the Russian torpedo-boats were active. One of their deadly engines of destruction struck the Yoneyama Maru just as the crew were about to cast anchor, and she drifted somewhat to the westward before she sank, her bow pointing towards the Tiger's Tail. Her crew escaped safely, but this accident left too wide a space between the Yoneyama Maru and the Yahiko Maru to effect a total obstruction of the channel.

All this time the torpedo-boat and destroyer flotilla had been far from idle. The destroyers consisted of the Shirakumo, Kasumi, Asashio, Akatsuki, Akebono, Oboro, Inayuma, Ikadsuchi, Usugomo, Sayanami, and Shinonome, while the torpedo-boats were the following: the Karigane, Aotaka, Misasagi, Tsubame, Managuru, and Hato. Several of these, it will be remembered, had already covered themselves with glory in previous combats. On this occasion they fully maintained their high reputation. The hot cannonade which was directed from the fortress upon the fireships so far from deterring the escorting vessels acted rather as an attraction to them, for while one division of the flotilla stood by the doomed steamers in order to pick up their crews, the other approached well within range of the garrison artillery in order to divert its fire from the main operation which was proceeding in the channel. Here it was that the Silni, under Lieutenant Krinizki, came into contact with the Japanese torpedo-boats. Without a moment's hesitation that gallant commander engaged the whole six at once. The unequal combat could not be long maintained, but it was fierce while it lasted. Lieutenant Krinizki himself was wounded, Engineer Artificer Swyereff and six seamen were killed and twelve other men were wounded. But still, the remainder fought gallantry on till a shell burst one of the little vessel's steam pipes and destroyed her steering-gear. Her power to continue in action was gone, and she was beached upon the shore below Golden Hill.

The work of the Japanese expeditions was now done. The survivors of the fireships were by this time all picked up and the several vessels of the flotilla were concentrated and retired out to sea.

In this remarkable operation the Japanese lost in all four killed and nine wounded. Of these latter Lieutenant Hatsuzo sustained very severe injuries; the wounds of the others, including Lieutenant Masaki and Engineer Awada, being of a slighter character. In the circumstances it was surprising that the casualties were so few, and one more illustration was given of the comparative impunity with which torpedo attacks can be made in harbor under cover of night. The smallness, however, of the Japanese losses in this species of fighting in the present war, must, of course, be largely attributable to bad shooting on the part of the Russian gunners, and it would be unwise to draw too general a lesson from it.

The most severe loss sustained by the Japanese was that of the gallant Commander Hirose, whose death, while it inflamed his comrades with pride, caused universal mourning. He had only recently been promoted for the skill and courage which he had displayed in the previous attempt to block the harbor. He was then in command of the Hokoku Maru, and regardless of the appalling fire directed upon her, he managed to rush his ship further than any of her companions up the channel before he blew her up and sent her to the bottom. An act of particularly cool, almost reckless, daring on his part on that occasion was now fondly recalled by his men. The ship was sinking, she was the target of all the Russian batteries, and the crew had taken refuge in the boats; but Commander Hirose had forgotten something. It was nothing less important than his sword, which he had left on the bridge. So, in spite of the imminent peril of the situation, he coolly went back to recover it, buckled it on, and escaped into the boat just in time, for the ship went down a moment afterwards. Commander Hirose was well known in naval circles in England, for he was a visitor to those shores a few years before on business for the Japanese Admiralty, and had made many friends. His remains were conveyed to Japan and accorded a public funeral, and the Mikado only expressed the feelings of the whole nation when he posthumously conferred upon the fallen hero the Order of the Kite and the Order of the Rising Sun.

The exact amount of obstruction caused in the channel by the sinking of the fireships could not be ascertained. It is, however, apparent from subsequent events that whatever inconvenience to navigation, temporary or permanent, may have resulted, it was not sufficient to prevent the passage of Admiral Makaroff's ships. At daybreak on the very morning of the attack he led his whole fleet out and lined it up in the roadstead in readiness to meet the Japanese fleet, which was in sight ten miles out at sea. Seeing, however, that his enemy had no intention of coming outside the range of the forts, Admiral Togo was not to be tempted nearer, and retired with the whole of his force to the southward. For several days he did not give any outward signs of activity, and his ships were not sighted off Port Arthur, a fact which gave rise to the impression that he was engaged in covering the transport of fresh Japanese troops to the west coast of Korea. On the other hand, the vigilance of Admiral Makaroff showed no indication of abating. On the 6th of April the steamer Haimun, specially chartered for the service of the London Times, was overhauled by the cruiser Bayan an at a distance of thirty-five miles to the southeast of Port Arthur. A shot fired across the Haimun's bows brought her to, and two lieutenants put off with a boat's crew and boarded her. The greatest politeness was shown, and after an examination of the Haimun's papers she was allowed to proceed. The Times' correspondent was able to observe that the Bayan, which was flying the flag of the Admiral himself, showed signs of injuries received in the recent fighting. Marks produced by splinters of shell were visible all over her, and a large hole had been rent in one of her smoke-stacks. This fact seems to bear out the story published in the Port Arthur Journal of the destruction wrought upon the Bayan by the high-angle fire of the Japanese in the bombardment of the 10th of March. The correspondent added that the officers and men who boarded his steamer "were a little fine drawn, but nevertheless looked good material." Some indication can be gathered from this statement of the strain which Admiral Togo's repeated attacks had involved upon his opponents. The constant anxiety had necessarily begun to tell upon the defending force, and many more than the officers and crew of the Bayan must have acquired that gaunt, tense appearance that comes from a sense of ever-impending danger heightened by a past experience of tragedy and disaster. No better illustration, indeed, of the watchfulness entailed on the Russians by the perpetual menace of their foe could be given than the case of Admiral Makaroff himself, who sent the following telegram to the President of the War Relief Society at Kronstadt on March 29th:—

"Last night was a very hot one, but we cannot hope for a very quiet time now or in the near future. I sleep without undressing in order that I maybe ready for any emergency. Consequently, I cannot observe your medical advice to take care of myself; nevertheless, I feel splendid."

These words were destined soon to receive a fulfilment more heart-shaking than any that can have presented itself as possible to the mind either of the writer of the letter or of its recipient. For even then stern Fate was standing ready with the abhorred shears; the shadows were gathering round the head of the devoted Makaroff; and his weary watch, pursued so bravely, so unflinchingly, and, alas for him and his country, so unavailingly, was moving swiftly towards its tragic close.

For on April 13th the telegraph wires flashed all over the world the news of a blow to Russia's might in the Far East, more appallingly dramatic in its suddenness and more fatal in its consequences than any that had yet befallen her in the preceding two months of bungling and misfortune. The stunning intelligence was conveyed to the Czar in the following telegram from Rear-Admiral Grigorovitch, Naval Commandant at Port Arthur:—

"The battleship Petropavlovsk struck a mine, which exploded and the vessel capsized.

"Our squadron is lying under Golden Hill and the Japanese squadron is approaching.

"I beg humbly to report to your Majesty that those saved from the Petropavlovsk up to the present are Grand Duke Cyril, six officers, 32 sailors, all wounded. The bodies of four officers, a surgeon, and 12 sailors have been found.

"The Japanese fleet has disappeared. Details will be supplied by Rear-Admiral Prince Ukhtomsky, who has assumed provisional command of the fleet."

Swiftly upon the track of this first message there followed the brief account of a further disaster, which placed another of Russia's finest battleships hors de combat. Prince Ukhtomsky telegraphed that "during some manœuvring of the battleship squadron, the Pobieda was struck by a mine amidships on the starboard side. She was able to gain the port by herself and none on board were killed or wounded."

The news of this fearful debacle created a paralyzing effect in official circles at St. Petersburg, and spread consternation among Russia's sympathizers throughout Europe. The first brief reports left room for speculation as to the cause of the disaster, and an accident was conjectured such as that which had destroyed the Yenesei; but the later accounts and the dispatches of Admiral Togo to his Government speedily put the real facts beyond doubt. It then became known to the world that Admiral Makaroff had fallen a victim to the deeply-laid plans of his brilliant adversary, and, moreover, that the whole Russian fleet had only narrowly escaped capture or complete destruction. The story of the operations which practically gave the coup de grace to the Czar's maritime power in the Far East is a remarkable one. It shows what a revolutionary effect the discoveries of modern science have had upon naval warfare, and it proves, too, how completely the lessons of that science have been assimilated by the Japanese.

On the 11th of April Admiral Makaroff, still pursuing his policy of activity, took the whole of his effective squadron out to sea, for a distance of six miles to the south of Port Arthur and exercised it in manœuvres. No sign of the enemy was perceived, and the fleet returned to the harbor in safety.

But Admiral Togo was not far away. Despairing of ordinary means of tempting Admiral Makaroff into the open to meet his more powerful fleet, he was preparing a double trap in which to catch his wary foe. He hoped, by the display of a markedly inferior force, to entice him beyond the range of the forts and then rush in with his battleships and capture or destroy the whole of the Russian fleet. But in the event of failure in this manœuvre, he had ready another scheme. The course taken by the Russian ships on leaving and returning to the harbor on the occasion of the frequent excursions which they had made of late had been carefully noted by the Japanese officers, and Togo had determined to mine the passage extensively, so that even if the enemy eluded a decisive battle at sea, he still hoped to do damage to their ships by driving them in the hurry and confusion of a headlong flight upon the hidden perils of his mine field. As it turned out, this part of his plan succeeded, and the result was probably even more startlingly effective than he expected; but it was only by a mere chance, as already mentioned, that the other and grander portion of his scheme failed of realization. If he had managed to interpose his powerful fleet between the Russian Squadron and Port Arthur, there can be little doubt that, although he himself would probably have sustained some severe losses, the Czar's naval force in the Pacific, already weakened by its former disasters, would have been practically eliminated. As it was, indeed, the success he attained was sufficiently striking. By it he secured the decisive supremacy of the sea in the Gulf of Pechili, and rendered possible at last the important movements on land which the strategists at Tokio were waiting to initiate.

The arrangements of the Japanese were carried out with their usual thoroughness. At midnight on the 12th of April, the fourth and fifth destroyer flotillas and the fourteenth torpedo flotilla reached Port Arthur roadstead, having with them under escort the mining ship, the Koryo Maru. The Koryo Maru was a new vessel of 2,700 tons burden, specially constructed for torpedo and mining work. Captain Oda, the officer in command, was one of the ablest experts in this branch of warfare in the Japanese navy, and he had only recently been decorated for his distinguished services. He had invented a new type of mine of a particularly deadly description, and it was now to be tried for the first time in actual warlike operations. The work of laying the mines was entered upon without delay, and with all the customary daring and resource exhibited by the Mikado's sailors in this dangerous class of service. Notwithstanding the relentless glare of the searchlights, which threw the vessel into strong relief and made her the target for two hundred guns, Captain Oda and his men calmly went about their work unheeding. The torpedo-boats and destroyers in the meantime took up a position on the flanks of the Koryo and endeavored to attract the fire of the fortress to themselves, while their escort was doing her deadly work unsuspected. The enterprise was aided by a renewal of the extraordinary feebleness and lack of skill which had so often been characteristic of the Russian defense in the past. Not only were the garrison gunners unable to hit the mark so plainly presented to them, but the torpedo flotilla, which, despite its recent losses, still constituted a formidable force, did nothing to interfere with operations which threatened so vitally the safety of the fleet. Even Admiral Makaroff seems to have been at fault on this occasion. It is almost inconceivable that the true nature of the Koryo's proceedings was not guessed by him, and that the most active measures were not taken to put a stop to them. Whatever may have been the reason, however, nothing effective was done, and Captain Oda was able to complete his work unharmed in spite of the shells which were churning up the water all round him. It must be remembered, nevertheless, that the immunity which the Koryo actually enjoyed is no measure of the risk that she ran. No more heroic and devoted act illumines the long history of naval warfare than the laying of these mines close to the harbor, and under the full fire of the enemy's guns, any one of whose missiles, by exploding the dangerous cargo, might have sent the ship to destruction in a moment. But, as it turned out, the Koryo was saved by the bad gunnery of the Russians, and having performed his duty well and thoroughly, Captain Oda withdrew to the open sea.

In the meanwhile, the torpedo-boats and destroyers, besides distracting the attention of the defending force from the work of the mine transport, were engaged in more active operations on their own account. At dawn the second division fell in with one of the enemy's destroyers, the Strashni, which was creeping stealthily towards the harbor mouth from the direction of Dalny. The Japanese were on her track in a moment, and, cutting off her retreat, bombarded her with their 6-pounders, until in a few minutes she became a total wreck and sank. An attempt was made to save her crew, but the work of rescue was interrupted by the appearance on the scene of the Russian cruiser Bayan. Admiral Togo's destroyers sheered off upon the approach of this formidable adversary, and left to her the task of picking up the drowning men, but the Bayan was too late to be of much service, and only five men could be recovered. At about the same time as this incident, a second Russian destroyer was encountered by the Japanese coming from the direction of Liau-tie-shan. A strong effort was made to capture her, but she was more fortunate than the Strashni, and managed to escape to Port Arthur in safety.

But now began the larger and more important operations which were destined to end so disastrously for Admiral Marakoff and his fleet. Admiral Togo had ordered a weak squadron, consisting of the first-class cruisers Tokiwa and Asama and four second-class cruisers, to act as a support to the destroyers, if attacked, and at the same time to serve as a lure to the Russians, and tempt them away from the protection of Port Arthur. He, himself, with his main fleet, lay in hiding thirty miles away to the southeast, waiting for an opportunity to dash in and cut off Makaroff's retreat. The day was not unsuitable for such an enterprise. Rain was falling, and a mist hung heavy over the sea, disguising the smoke of his great warships.

By eight o'clock on the morning of the 13th, the Japanese cruiser squadron appeared on the offing and engaged in a long-range fire with the Bayan, which had not returned to the harbor. Admiral Makaroff, seeing the smallness of the force opposed to him, gave the order to his fleet to steam out in column formation and attack the venturesome enemy. Hoisting his flag on the Petropavlovsk, the Russian Commander-in-Chief led the way himself, followed by the battleships Poltava and Pobieda, the cruisers Diana, Askold, and Novik, and the destroyer flotilla. In the roadstead the fleet was joined by the Bayan, and the whole force then set forth majestically to engage the Japanese.

But the orders of Admiral Togo were well observed by Admiral Dewa, commander of the cruiser squadron. Gradually the Japanese began to retire before the superior force opposed to them, drawing Makaroff onwards, further and further out to sea. The Russian fleet began a hot fire at long range, to which the Japanese ships replied at intervals, just sufficiently to keep their opponents occupied and to lure them on to greater efforts by the display of a manifest disparity of strength. By this skillful manœuvring they succeeded in enticing Makaroff out a distance of fifteen miles to the southeast of Port Arthur. Now was the time to communicate with Admiral Togo. Wireless telegraphy flashed the news of the success of the ruse to the Commander-in-Chief. His great battleships were waiting with steam up and cleared for action. Directly he received the message from the retreating squadron he signalled to the new cruisers, the Nisshin and Kasuga, to join him, and then advanced at full speed with eight powerful vessels to cut off the unwary Russians.

The plan had been well laid and it seemed on the brink of success, but that incalculable factor, the weather, intervened and brought Togo's calculations to naught. The wind suddenly freshened, and, blowing away the mist under cover of which the Japanese men-of-war were approaching, disclosed the smoke of their funnels to Admiral Makaroff. In a flash he saw the trap into which he had nearly led his fleet, and gave orders to retreat to Port Arthur with all haste. Back, therefore, the Russians scurried with the Japanese in full cry at their heels. Steam as they might Togo's ships were too late to catch their enemy, and great must have been the disappointment of the gallant Admiral and his men when they saw the prey slip from their grasp. But the curtain had not yet fallen upon the drama. Makaroff's ships had emerged from Port Arthur and passed over the mine field in safety; by a singular stroke of luck they had eluded the Japanese battle fleet, but they had still a third danger to encounter—they had once more to pass over the deadly engines of war which Captain Oda had placed in their path. And here it was that the blow fell.

By about half-past nine the fleet, with the Petropavlovsk at its head regained the roadstead and the protection of the fortress guns. Signalling to the torpedo flotilla to enter the harbor, Admiral Makaroff turned his own vessel towards the east and ordered the cruisers to follow him. The battleship Pobieda was to the stern of the Petropavlovsk, on the starboard quarter. Close behind her again came the Poltava. The Commander-in-Chief was on the bridge of his ship with the Grand Duke Cyril, son of the Grand Duke Vladmir, and cousin of the Czar; Captain Yakovleff, and some other officers. Suddenly the horrified spectators on shore saw a great white column of foam rise on the right side of the Petropavlovsk. A dull report was heard, followed by another and more terrific explosion under the bridge. A huge thick cloud of greenish yellow smoke rose around the doomed vessel, a topmast, a funnel, a turret and the bridge were hurled into the air, and the huge monster heeled over on her starboard side. Her poop rose up, showing the propeller working in the air. Fire burst out in every part, and in a moment the ship was a mass of flame. A few seconds more and the whole fearful spectacle was torn from the eyes of the paralyzed onlookers, for with a tremendous lurch the vessel turned further on her side, the waters rushed in upon her in torrents, and with a roar and a hiss the mighty mass plunged beneath the foaming surface of the sea. The Petropavlovsk had gone to her death carrying with her the gallant Admiral himself, his staff, and full six hundred officers and men.

This terrible catastrophe threw the whole squadron into the utmost confusion. The other ships began a rapid haphazard fire in all directions to destroy the mines which they knew lurked in every direction, but their shots were purposeless; there was no mark at which to aim, and no effect was produced. And then, to carry further dismay to the already nerve-shaken fleet, a mine exploded on the starboard side of the Pobieda. She listed at once, but her fate was happier than that of the Petropavlovsk. No second explosion followed; the watertight bulkheads were shut to, and sorely wounded though she was she managed to keep afloat and to crawl into the harbor with the cruisers crowding behind her.

The Poltava in the meanwhile had remained upon the scene of the disaster, and her boats put out to save any of the crew of the flagship who could be found. In this work they were aided by the torpedo gunboat Gaidamak, and their combined efforts succeeded in rescuing the Grand Duke Cyril, seven officers, and seventy-three seamen. These were the only survivors.

The difference in the effect of the mine explosions upon the Petropavlovsk and the Pobieda was due to causes which could not have been foreseen. The terrible character of the disaster which befell the flagship was due to the fact that the mine exploded underneath her boilers, and that when these burst the explosion of the ammunition magazine, which was in the same part of the ship, immediately followed. The whole affair was over in less than a minute and a half. On the other hand, the explosion at the side of the Pobieda did not touch the boilers, and seriously—indeed for the purposes of immediate warfare, irremediable—damaged as she was, the same appalling results did not follow in her case as in the other.

The accounts of the survivors of the Petropavlovsk all confirm this view. But so swift indeed was the tragedy that there was not much time or opportunity for the formation of correct conclusions upon this or upon any point. The narratives of the men who were picked up were of the kind usually met with on the occasion of a sudden catastrophe. They were mainly confined to their own personal experiences and miraculous escape. Upon the memories of some, however, certain outstanding incidents were sharply and indelibly photographed. One of the last things which a signalman saw upon the bridge before he was hurled off was the figure of an officer lying weltering in his blood. It was Admiral Makaroff himself. Captain Yakovleff, the commander of the vessel, was hurled against a stanchion with such force that he was thought to be killed, but he was afterwards picked up alive. The Grand Duke Cyril had an escape just as marvelous. He, too, was knocked on the head, but he was not rendered unconscious, and when he was thrown into the sea he fell clear of the sinking vessel. He was an excellent swimmer, and in spite of the shock and injury he had sustained, he managed to keep afloat until he was picked up. Rear-Admiral Molas, Makaroff's chief of staff, was in his cabin when the explosion occurred, and was drowned. His body was one of the few that were afterwards washed ashore. Another picture which some of the survivors retained in their mind was that of "an old man with a beautiful white beard," who was standing on the deck just before the disaster with a book in his hand sketching. This was the famous war artist, Verestchagin. Only that morning his friend Makaroff had invited him to share the hospitality of the flagship and so gain further material for his realistic pictures of the horrors of war!

The full magnitude of the success which his plans had gained was not revealed to the Japanese Admiral till the Russian dispatches made it public to the world. He saw a vessel, as he phrased it, "of the Petropavlovsk type" strike a mine and sink, and he thought also that another ship—he was referring to the Pobieda—lost freedom of movement; but he did not know that with the Petropavlovsk perished the brain of the Russian defence, a brain which, if it had been employed from the first by its master, the Czar, might have given a totally different character to the war. The death of Makaroff in itself brought no rejoicing to the Japanese in their hour of victory, but only that feeling of almost personal sorrow which brave and chivalrous men feel for the death of a gallant foe. No finer or more generous tributes indeed could have been paid even in the western world than were paid to the memory of the brave but unfortunate Makaroff by the members of this so-called yellow race.

On the 14th Admiral Togo once more brought his fleet before Port Arthur, and by means of an indirect bombardment, silenced the new forts on Liau-tie-shan. He then retired again to prepare for a further attempt to cork up the harbor, which should finally reduce the Russian fleet to a state of ineffectiveness, and leave the sea clear for the transport of the great army which was to be launched against the Liao-tung Peninsula and southern Manchuria. Already General Kuroki, with the First Army, was encamped on the south bank of the Yalu River prepared for an advance upon the Russian position at Khiu-lien-cheng.

But before dealing with the momentous events which now occurred in rapid succession, both on land and sea, it will be necessary to return for a few moments to the earlier fortunes of the First Army, whose advance through Korea as far as Ping-Yang was described in Chapter III. It will be remembered that a small skirmish took place between Russian and Japanese patrols to the north of that town on February 28th. A month elapsed before the opposing forces came seriously into touch with one another again. During that period General Kuroki slowly but steadily continued his advance in the face of terrible difficulties arising from the weather and the state of the roads. The mud on these north Korean highways in the spring makes them almost impassable, but the Japanese had thought of everything, and brought large supplies of wood with which they practically relaid the road, and made it admit even of the passage of heavy artillery. The Cossack patrols retired before this persistent advance, and no real attempt to dispute it was made till the vanguard of the Japanese neared Chong-ju, a little town about thirty miles north of Anju and fifty south of Wiju. Here, on March 28th, they found six squadrons of Cossacks belonging to General Mishtchenko's Brigade, posted on an adjacent hill, prepared to dispute the forward movement. A brisk engagement ensued. The small force of Japanese which first appeared upon the scene, according to the testimony of General Mishtchenko himself, gallantly held their ground in spite of the commanding position occupied by the Russians and the raking cross fire which they maintained, and it was only after half an hour of fierce fighting that they gave way and fell back upon their supports which were hastening to the front. Reinforcements now rapidly arrived, and the Russians, finding their position untenable, retired along the road to the north, yielding up possession of the town to the Japanese. In this smart little affair the Russians, according to their account, lost three killed and twelve wounded, the Japanese casualties amounting to five killed, including one officer, and twelve wounded, including two officers.

After the capture of Chong-ju General Kuroki moved forward rapidly, finding no resistance. On April 2nd he occupied Syoush-kou, a place eighteen miles west of Chong-ju, and forty miles south of Wiju, and two days afterwards his scouts entered Wiju itself, an important town on the south bank of the Yalu. The Russians did not find themselves strong enough to oppose the Japanese advance in Korea, and determined instead to resist it on the north bank of the Yalu. General Kuroki therefore occupied Wiju without firing a shot, and set to work busily to consolidate his forces for the great enterprise of crossing the Yalu.

The month of April was occupied by General Kuroki in the steady concentration of his troops and in the collection of war material. Pontoons were conveyed to the front in readiness for the operation of forcing the river; heavy guns were transported over the Korean roads with, in the circumstances, really marvelous rapidity; and masses of cavalry and infantry arrived at Wiju every day. By the end of the month the First Japanese Army had been brought up to its full strength, amounting probably to between 60,000 and 70,000 men of all arms. It was divided into three divisions, the 12th, the 2nd and the Guards. The 12th Division, it will be remembered, was the first section of the army to put foot on Korean soil, being landed at Chemulpo during the first days of the war, after the destruction of the Varyag had left that part of the coast clear for the Japanese disembarkation. It may be well to record its composition exactly, as it is typical of all the Japanese divisions. It was made up as follows:—Infantry, 12,000 (four regiments of three battalions each); cavalry, 500 (one regiment); artillery, 900 (one regiment, 36 guns, two field batteries, two mountain batteries); engineers, 700; transport corps, 600; hospital corps, 700; ammunition column, 500; post office corps, veterinary corps, pontoon corps and balloon corps, 1,000; total, 16,900. Attached to these combatant troops were a force of 5,500 coolies for transport purposes, bringing the grand total of the division, combatant and non-combatant, up to 22,400. The whole was under the command of Lieutenant-General Inouye, whose chief subordinates were Major-Generals Kigoshi and Otani.

As his army arrived at the front, General Kuroki began gradually to occupy a wider front on the south bank of the Yalu, his left wing operating at the mouth of the river in conjunction with a naval force under the command of Admiral Hosoya, and his right extending to a distance of twenty or twenty-five miles up the river, past Sukuchin.

While the Japanese were thus concentrating on the left bank of the Yalu the Russians were gradually strengthening their positions on the right bank, the centre and key of which was formed by the village of Kiu-lien-cheng. During all these weeks the greatest secrecy was observed on both sides in regard to their numbers and dispositions—as far, at least, as the outside world was concerned. It seems probable from after events that the Russians themselves were largely ignorant of the strength of the force which General Kuroki had at his disposal; but, on the other hand, that able commander appears to have been thoroughly well informed in every detail as to the position occupied by his enemy. There was the greatest diversity of statement on the Russian side after the battle of the Yalu upon the question of the real intentions of General Kuropatkin in holding as he did the right bank of the river. When the disastrous result of the conflict of May 1st became known in Europe the friends of the Commander-in-Chief in the press declared that it was due to the failure of the officer in immediate command, General Sassulitch, to follow his instructions, which were to offer only a strategical resistance to the enemy and to withdraw slowly before the advance of a superior force upon Feng-haung-cheng, a position about thirty miles distant upon the Liau-yang road. If this explanation is correct, the activity shown by the Russians for weeks in constructing earthworks on the heights around Kiu-lien-cheng is rendered very remarkable, and equally difficult to understand is the size and importance of the force to which was apportioned the task of thus keeping in touch with the advancing Japanese army and conducting a mere strategic defeat. For General Sassulitch was commander of the 2nd Siberian Army Corps, and though the actual body of troops engaged in the fighting-line in resisting the passage of the Yalu by the Japanese did not amount to that strength, there is no doubt that General Sassulitch had under him in the near neighborhood a force of not less than 30,000 men. All the evidence, in fact, points to the conclusion that the Russian Generals, including the Commander-in-Chief himself, wholly underestimated the fighting power of the Japanese and the skill with which they would be led when the opposing armies came to close quarters.

The kind of talk which responsible military men in St. Petersburg indulged in before the battle of the Yalu all goes to strengthen this impression. On April 25th, the day before General Kuroki began that series of movements which were to culminate in his crossing the Yalu and driving the Russians before him in headlong rout, there appeared in the Echo de Paris the report of an interview which its St. Petersburg correspondent had had with Colonel Vannovsky, of the Russian General Staff, and formerly military attache in Japan. The utterances of this sapient officer are amusing reading in view of what happened so shortly afterwards. He thought it would still be some time before serious military operations could begin on the Yalu, for the Japanese, in his opinion, were far from having completed their concentration in Korea. They probably, he said, had three divisions of from 12,000 to 15,000 men between Ping-Yang and the Yalu; and, including the Second Army then disembarking, they had not more than 85,000 men near the front. Then followed a valuable criticism of General Kuroki and his colleague, General Oku, the commander of the Second Army. Both, he reminded the interviewer, served in the Chino-Japanese War; but "he looked for nothing extraordinary from them, both were more than sixty years of age." On the whole, he thought that the Japanese would establish themselves in Korea; if they crossed the Yalu it would be only to satisfy public opinion at Tokio. Colonel Vannovsky soon had reason to be sorry that he had spoken so disdainfully of General Kuroki, and with such sublime assurance of the Japanese plans. If the crossing of the Yalu was mainly dictated by a desire to satisfy public opinion at Tokio, it must be said that public opinion at Tokio had its wishes very amply gratified before many days had expired. It is a remarkable fact that in the history of nearly every war the greatest disasters follow the greatest self-confidence. And yet it can easily be understood how the armies that had proved successful against those famous fighters the Turks in the war of the seventies should despise the little dwarfish Japanese, who had hitherto only faced the undisciplined hordes of China.

Kuroki Completes his Plans—The Scene of Battle—General Sassulitch's Defences—The Russian Dispositions—The Attacking Army—Clearing the Islands—Guards Half-way Across—Parallel Movements—The Searching Japanese Fire—Bridging the Yalu—Confusion in the Russian Councils—Kuroki's Consummate Strategy—Futile Russian Opposition—Masked Batteries at Work—Serpentine Line of Dark Forms—Two Thousand Deadly Thunderbolts—Inferno Let Loose—Howitzer High-Angle Fire—Co-operation of Gunboats—Miserable Array of Russians—Four Miles of Japanese—A Moment of Tense Expectancy—The General Attack Begins—Ridges Alive with Flame—Surprise of the Russians—The Plunge Across the Ai—Overwhelming Legions—The Circling Ring of Fate—Devastating Artillery Bombardment—Black Mass of Human Figures—The Blood-Red Banner—Fight Desperately Against Fate—General Sassulitch's Retreat—The Japanese Chase—The Last Gallant Stand—Rifle Fire and Cold Steel.

The numerous small skirmishes between outposts which took place on the Yalu and its tributaries during the earlier part of the month of April need not detain us. They were mainly encounters between small reconnoitering parties, and though there were losses on both sides, fortune on the whole leaned in favor of the Japanese. The results of these reconnaissances in locating the positions occupied by the Russians, combined with the success of the Japanese transport arrangements, which, as stated already, placed an army of 60,000 to 70,000 men at General Kuroki's disposal, enabled him to complete his preparations for the great task before him by the beginning of the last week in April. The night of the 25th found him ready at all points, and on the morrow his army entered upon the preliminary stages of a series of operations which, culminating in the crossing of the river and the capture of the Russian position, first revealed to an astonished world the hitherto undreamt-of potentialities of Japan as a military power.

Some study of the map of the scene of battle is necessary for a perfect understanding of the movements of the contending forces. It will be seen on reference to our map (page 169) that just above Wiju the waters of the Yalu are joined from the northwest by an important tributary, the Ai River, the stream here taking the form of a fork. At the apex of the triangular wedge of land which divides the Ai from the Yalu is situated the Hosan, or Tiger Hill, an important strategical position commanding the south bank of the main river. Opposite Tiger Hill, and running some way past it up the Yalu, is the Island of Kulido, which divides the river at this point into two streams, both of them fordable. The Ai also is fordable at a point near the hill of Yulchasan, which is north of Tiger Hill and on the same bank of the tributary. Opposite Wiju itself the main river is two miles wide and is divided into three streams by two islands. Of these the larger Cheun-song-do, is near the right bank, and lies stretched alongside it for a distance of about thirteen miles, starting from a spot close to Antung, lower down the river, and finishing at a little distance up the Ai. It can be reached from the right bank at this end by a ford, and there is another ford lower down, opposite to Chiu-lien-cheng. The stream dividing the other island from the left bank is also fordable waist-deep, but the central stream can only be crossed by means of a bridge. These islands are really low, flat, sandy deltas, with occasional clumps of small trees and patches of shrub dotting their surface, which provide some cover for the concealment of troops.

The Russian position extended for a distance of upwards of twenty miles along the right bank of the Yalu and Ai, from Niang-ning-chin in the south, to Yushukau in the north. Yushukau is a hill opposite to Yulchasan, and lower down is another hill which General Sassulitch had fortified, named Makau (or Potientzy). Then comes the village of Chiu-lien-cheng itself, which formed the centre of his position, standing at a height of about 180 feet above the river. From Chiu-lien-cheng a road runs in a westerly direction to Hamatan or Hoh-mu-tang, a distance of about five or six miles; and another road runs down parallel with the bank of the Yalu to Antung. A further road runs from Hoh-mu-tang in a northerly direction, the most important post on which is Tang-lang-fang, almost due west of Yushukau. Westward of Hoh-mu-tang stretches the main road to Feng-whang-cheng and Liao-yang. South of Antung is the hill of Antushan, and a continual ridge of hills connects this eminence with Niang-ning-chin, already mentioned. It will be observed that the high ground which the Russians occupied gives a defending force a great advantage in meeting an attack from the Yalu, as it easily commands the low-lying positions on the left bank. On the other hand, Makau, Shiu-lien-cheng, and the positions to the southward are commanded by Tiger Hill and Yulchasan, and it is therefore obvious that if once the Japanese succeeded in occupying those heights they must necessarily render the rest of General Sassulitch's defences along the river bank untenable.

As far as can be gathered from the Japanese accounts and from the more obscure dispatches of the Russian Generals, the distribution of the Czar's forces at the beginning of the operations was as follows: Tiger Hill was occupied by part of the 22nd Siberian Regiment under the command of General Kashtalinsky. The right wing, in the neighborhood of Antung, was formed of the 9th and 10th Regiments supported by two batteries of artillery; while the centre, at Chiu-lien-cheng, was held by the 12th Regiment. The Reserve was formed of the 11th Regiment. The artillery were distributed at carefully-chosen positions along the whole front, but were massed in especial strength at Makau and Chiu-lien-cheng. Advanced outposts drawn from the 22nd, 23rd, and 27th Regiments of Eastern Siberian Sharpshooters occupied the islands of Kulido and Cheun-song-do. A Russian regiment, it should be explained, consists of three battalions, each of which, when brought up to its full strength, numbers about 1,000 men.

On the night of the 25th the Japanese army was massed on the left bank of the river in the following order: On the left, facing the island of Cheun-song-do, was stationed the 2nd Division; the centre, occupying a position to the north of Wiju, was composed of the Imperial Guards' Division; and on the right, still further up the river, the 12th Division was concentrated, in concealment behind some hilly ground, and in readiness for an important move upon the enemy's left, which will be described later.

At dawn on the 26th a sharp rattle of musketry told the Russians that the attack had begun. Detachments from the Guards' Division were firing upon General Sassulitch's sharpshooters stationed on the Island of Kulido. The Russians replied briskly, but the Japanese rifle fire was heavy and well-directed, and at last their position became untenable, in face not only of this infantry attack, but of a searching bombardment opened by some batteries of Kuroki's artillery, which were established on a hill in the rear of Wiju. They therefore retreated to the mainland for shelter.

No sooner had this retirement been effected than the Japanese prepared to cross over to the island in boats. These craft were all in readiness, and before long a considerable force of the Guards had landed on the island. When this movement was perceived the enemy returned to dispute it; but they were not in large force, and were easily repulsed. A squadron of Cossacks came to their assistance, but the hot fire with which they were received by the Japanese infantry was too much for them, and they were driven back in confusion to the bank below Tiger Hill. The Mikado's Guards continued the pursuit across the ford, and a smart encounter ensued beneath the hill. The fighting was not of long duration, however; the Russians retired; and it became evident that there was no intention seriously to dispute the possession of the island. The attempt made by General Sassulitch's batteries to drive the daring Japanese off the island by shrapnel fire was quite unsuccessful, and the whole defence on this side revealed an unexpected weakness. The Guards' skirmishers occupied all night the ground they had so easily gained.

In the meantime, the advance guard of the 2nd Division had carried through the same operations with equal success on the Island of Cheun-song-do. The Russian sharpshooters were driven off in the direction of Chiu-lien-cheng, and the Japanese seized the delta with a small force preparatory to constructing a bridge over the central stream for the passage of the main body of the division.

In these small but useful engagements the Guards suffered some slight casualties, nine men being slightly and sixteen seriously wounded. The 2nd Division sustained no casualties at all. The Russians, on the other hand, lost more heavily. They were seen to carry off a considerable number of dead and wounded, and they left behind them ninety-five dead horses, which, in itself, is significant of the searching character of the Japanese fire. The body of Lieutenant Senyoloff, commanding the Mounted Scouts of the 22nd Regiment, which his comrades had not time to remove, was buried at Wiju by the Japanese themselves with all honor.

On the following day the work of bridging the stream both at Kulido and Cheun-song-do was carried out, in spite of the intermittent fire which the Russian guns maintained upon the corps engaged. So ineffective indeed was this cannonade that the Japanese artillery did not even reply to it, and their engineers pursued their enterprise calmly and without substantial interruption. On the same day the naval squadron under Rear-Admiral Hosoya rendered valuable assistance to General Kuroki by its co-operation in the Yalu estuary. Two gunboats, two torpedo-boats, and two armed steamers ascended the river as far as Antushan and effected a useful diversion in the quarter by shelling the Russian entrenchments. The bombardment must have proved destructive, for after making a brisk reply for some time, which, however, did no damage to the Japanese ships, the Muscovite batteries were finally silenced.

On Thursday, the 28th, the same tactics were displayed, and the position seized by the Guards' Division and the 2nd Division on the Islands of Kulido and Cheun-song-do was consolidated. Two companies of the former, indeed, crossed over to the mainland and reconnoitred Tiger Hill, encouraged by the silence of the enemy on that commanding eminence. To their surprise they found that the post had been evacuated by the Russians. No explanation has been offered of this remarkable step; the only conclusion possible—a conclusion, indeed, strengthened by subsequent events—is that confusion reigned in the councils of the Russian commanders, and that no definite and coherent plan had been thought out by them. For on the next day General Kashtalinsky was again ordered to occupy the hill, which the Japanese themselves, having other plans in view, were not yet in a position to seize effectively.

On Friday, the 29th, General Kuroki began the important move on his extreme right, for which the 12th Division had been all this time kept in reserve. The operations of the Guards and the 2nd Division, useful, and indeed necessary, as they were for the purposes of a general advance, had acted as a screen for his consummate piece of strategy by which the Japanese Commander turned General Sassulitch's flank and finally captured the position. To the north of Wiju, about thirteen miles higher up the stream of the Yalu, stands the small village of Sukuchin. Here it was that the Japanese effected a crossing in October, 1894, in their war with China. On that occasion the movement enabled them to outflank a force of 30,000 men, and it is one of the remarkable features of General Kuroki's dispositions for attack that they repeated in all essential particulars the tactics which proved so successful ten years ago. Still more remarkable is it that the Russians appear to have learned none of the lessons of the war of 1894, and to have fallen just as readily into the trap as did the Chinese. Early then on the 29th the engineer corps of the 12th Division started to construct two pontoon bridges over the Yalu at Sukuchin. Here, as in every other department of the Japanese arrangements, the organization was perfect. Not a detail had been omitted and the work proceeded smoothly and with dispatch. By the next morning both bridges were completed and the troops prepared to cross.

The Russian Commander, who had at last got wind of the manœuvre which was taking place at this point, had detached a small force to oppose the passage of the river, and when at 10.40 the vanguard of General Inouye's Division began to march on to the pontoons, a fierce fire was directed upon it from the opposite bank. The Japanese, however, retorted both with rifle fire and artillery, and the fusillade of the Russians was soon checked, with the result that by the afternoon the whole of the 12th Division had gained the right bank of the Yalu with the loss of only two men killed and twenty-seven men wounded. General Inouye then marched forward to seize Yulchasan and Tiger Hill, which positions, after their first evacuation, had again been occupied by the Russians under General Kashtalinsky.

In the meantime, the Guards' Division, assisted by a heavy bombardment from the batteries below Wiju, was pressing an attack upon Tiger Hill from the Island of Kulido, an attack which successfully diverted the attention of General Kashtalinsky from the advance upon his left, and prevented him from offering it any formidable resistance. The Japanese artillery in particular distinguished itself. Never was superiority of generalship more strikingly displayed than it was by General Kuroki in this case. The position was admirably selected by him; the work of placing the batteries was carried out with such skill that the Russians were kept in entire ignorance of their whereabouts; and finally when they opened fire on the morning of the 30th the heavy character of the guns employed took the enemy absolutely by surprise. On the delta immediately below Wiju was a belt of trees of which the Japanese General had at once seen the potentialities; and behind its screen his engineers had constructed gun pits, in which were concealed several batteries of howitzers. These pieces of ordnance did terrible execution in the Russian lines in the course of the day.

To the onlookers standing on the hills behind Wiju the wide field of battle spread before them presented a highly picturesque spectacle, and as the attack developed the interest became intense. Hardly had the advance of the Guards begun upon the Island of Kulido when a long serpentine line of dark forms could be seen winding in and out of the heights on the right bank of the river to the north of Tiger Hill. They were the men of the 12th Division slowly but surely creeping upon the Russian left. For miles they pressed forward without coming into view of the Russian artillerymen on Tiger Hill, but at last the first detachments, rounding the shoulder of one of the nearer hills, were exposed to the enemy. Instantly a terrific burst of shrapnel fire broke out from General Kashtalinsky's field batteries. Steadily, however, and without a check the brave Japanese advanced from height to height, and at the same time the batteries on the left bank above Wiju came to their aid. The fire of the Russians had unmasked the position of their guns on the hill, and the Japanese artillerymen rained upon them a terrible hail of shells which soon reduced them to silence and effectually covered the advance of the infantry.

But now the Guards, who were engaged in effecting a lodgement on the lower slopes of Tiger Hill, came in for the attentions of General Sassulitch's field batteries at Makau and Chiu-lien-cheng. Believing that the Japanese possessed only guns of the same calibre, and totally ignorant of the deadly engines of warfare which Kuroki had so skillfully concealed behind the innocent-looking belt of trees on the delta, the Russian Commander took no pains to mask his ordnance. Therefore when his shrapnel swept the Island of Kulido and played havoc among the Guards, his whole position in this part of the field lay exposed. At once the howitzers on the delta close to the opposite shore began to belch forth a terrible fire of shrapnel and common shell, which tore up the ground all around the Russians, killing their gunners and dismounting their guns. This bombardment was afterwards described by General Kashtalinsky, in a dispatch to the Commander-in-Chief, as "extraordinarily violent and prolonged," and he added that in its course more than 2,000 shells were fired upon the defenders' position. The fearfully destructive and demoralizing effect of this cannonade was indeed patent at once to the observers upon the left bank of the river. The Makau Hill was described by one correspondent as transformed in appearance into an active volcano, from which belched forth clouds of grey-black smoke.

It was Inferno let loose. The sides of the hill were riddled and scored, solid rocks were smashed like crockery, as the screaming missiles of death burst among the trenches and filled them with dead and wounded. Yet amid it all the Russian artillerymen stood steadily to their guns as long as their guns were left in their places, and as long as any men remained to work them. But the best troop in the world could not endure such a murderous fire for long. The heavy pieces of field ordnance were knocked from their carriages like ninepins, the soldiers fell around them in scores, and at last the batteries sank into silence and the dark forms of the defenders were seen from afar fleeing for refuge behind the further line of the heights.

This fierce artillery engagement lasted about half an hour, and while it produced such deadly and demoralizing effects on the enemy it left the Japanese practically unharmed behind their screen of trees. Their howitzers, unlike the Russian field guns, could do the maximum of execution by means of high-angle fire and their battery emplacements were so carefully and skilfully masked that the shrapnel of the enemy, effective as it may have appeared to be from the right bank, did them scarcely any damage. Their casualties, indeed, were only two men killed and twenty-five wounded. It was a remarkable triumph of scientific warfare, and proved that in the artillery branch of the service at all events the Japanese had nothing further to learn from European models.

While this bombardment was engaging the Russian centre and diverting its attention from the enveloping movement of the 12th Division on the left, and from the advance of the Guards upon Tiger Hill, the gunboat flotilla of Admiral Hosoya again operated with great effect against the Russian lines lower down the river at Antushan and Niang-ning-chin. This simultaneous attack along the whole of his front placed General Sassulitch in a position of the utmost difficulty. He was unable to tell from which part of the field the real danger would come. It is clear, however, from the dispatches of his subordinate, General Kashtalinsky, that that officer appreciated the true nature of the Japanese operations, and that he recognized the impossibility of holding Chiu-lien-cheng after his flank had been turned by General Inouye's Division. Early on the 30th he ordered the 22nd Regiment back from Tiger Hill to the right bank of the Ai River and endeavored to strengthen the position on Makau and Yukushau, and his dispatch to General Kuropatkin indicates that he represented to General Sassulitch the difficulty with which even that line of defence could be maintained, and urged a retreat to Hoh-mu-tang. At night, however, he received orders from his superior to remain and accept battle at the hands of the Japanese, and he had nothing for it but to obey.

It was with a miserably inadequate force that he was thus compelled to oppose the advance of a foe which had already proved itself so determined and so resourceful. At the ford on his extreme left he stationed two battalions of the 22nd Regiment. The 12th Regiment of the East Siberian Rifles held the hills behind, from Yukushan to Makau, supported by the 3rd Battery of the 6th Brigade of Artillery and a number of machine guns. General Sassulitch himself was in command of the 9th and 10th Regiments occupying Chiu-lien-cheng and the chain of hills stretching down to Antung, and the 11th Regiment was kept in the rear as a reserve. General Mishchenko's Brigade of Cossacks, though in the neighborhood, does not appear to have been actually engaged in the battle at all.

On the Japanese side all was in readiness for the great advance by the night of the 30th, and General Kuroki telegraphed to the General Staff at Tokio that the attack would begin at dawn. On the left, the 2nd Division, under General Nishi, occupied the southern end of Cheun-song-do; the Imperial Guards, under General Hasegawa, held the northern end of that island, as well as Tiger Hill; and on their right was stationed the 12th Division, facing the Ai, on a wide front extending for over four miles. In these positions the Army bivouacked for the night.

By five o'clock on the morning of Sunday, May 1st, the whole force from north to south was on foot, and prepared to move like one mighty machine to the execution of the great task before it. As the grey dawn lifted the curtain upon the tremendous drama which was about to unfold itself before them, the watchers behind Wiju saw the long lines of black forms marshalling upon the islands and taking cover behind the scrub and in the hollows of the low sand hills. Far out beyond Tiger Hill and along the left bank of the River Ai the lines extended, moving out of the shelter of the adjacent hills. It was a moment of tense expectancy. Now for the first time were Japanese Infantry to be pitted against European troops armed with modern weapons, in a conflict on the grand scale. Would they come out of the ordeal with triumph? Would they in their sphere of warfare rival the great achievements of their naval brethren?

But before the infantry could move forward it was necessary to search the Russian batteries once more and reduce them, if possible, to ineffectiveness. The howitzers and field artillery, therefore, again opened their terrible fire of shell and shrapnel upon the heights opposite, the storm raging with especial severity over Chiu-lien-cheng and the Makau and Yushukau ridge. But to this the enemy made no reply. After the awful experience of the previous day, they had been compelled to withdraw many of their guns, and the front of their position was, as it afterwards appeared, deprived of this defence altogether. General Kashtalinsky, as already stated, had with him one battery of field artillery, but taught by past lessons he declined to unmask its whereabouts until the advance of the Mikado's troops made it absolutely necessary. After half an hour, therefore, the Japanese ceased their bombardment for the time being, and at last General Kuroki gave the eagerly-expected order for a general attack along the whole line. Gladly the soldiery of Dai Nippon answered the call, burning as one man to plant the flag of the Rising Sun upon the soil of the territory from which ten years ago they had been so contemptuously driven out by the haughty Muscovite.

To the 12th Division fell the perilous glory of crossing first, in the teeth of the Russian guns. The skirmishing line advanced first over a wide front, keeping up a harassing fire upon the enemy's trenches. A smart response was made, but the opportunity of the Russians was yet to come; for it was apparent that the actual crossing of the river by General Inouye's main body would have to be performed in much closer formation, presenting an admirable target for artillery and rifle fire. Slowly but steadily the skirmishers pressed forward, taking advantage of every scrap of cover, and soon the whole plain was dotted with puffs of white smoke as the bullets sped on their way. Behind them came line after line of the main storming force. At last the fords were reached, and forming into two columns the 12th Division rushed forward to gain their passage. At once the ridges opposite became alive with flame, and a withering blast of shrapnel and rifle bullets swept across their path. The column formation which the Japanese were compelled to adopt gave the Russian marksmen every chance, and terrible loss of life occurred at this point. The leading files were mown down like grass under the sickle; for a moment the head of the column wavered under the storm and stood still.

But now the Japanese artillery found the opening they wanted. The exact position of the Russian guns was revealed, and at once they were enfiladed by a demoralizing fire from the terrible howitzers near Wiju while at the same time they were attacked by General Inouye's field batteries in front. Once again the fierce and destructive character of the cannonade is revealed by the dispatches of the Russian commanders. Just as General Kashtalinsky, referring to the bombardment of April 30th, described it as "extraordinarily violent and prolonged," so General Sassulitch used similar terms in regard to this new bombardment. Before the day was over the Russian Commander had more opportunities of appreciating the "extraordinary" quality of the troops whose powers he, in common with more highly placed officers in the service of the Czar, had so fatally despised; but it seems clear from the use of the same phrase independently by the two generals that the artillery tactics of General Kuroki caused them more surprise than almost anything else in the whole of these surprising operations. It goes to prove that the Intelligence Department on the Russian side was not well equipped, for the possession by their enterprising foe of heavy guns so far north in Korea seems never to have been suspected by them.

Supported by this tremendous cannonade, the infantry of the 12th Division pressed steadily forward. The survivors of the first line melted into the second line, which was advancing quickly behind, and careless of death, the gallant little Japs plunged into the waters of the Ai up to their breasts, and waded across the ford. Notwithstanding the raking fire, however, from General Kuroki's batteries, the Russians stuck to their posts like heroes, and the field guns of the 3rd Battery, assisted by a number of machine guns, ploughed up the ranks of the Mikado's troops, doing terrible execution. But the Japanese were in overwhelming force, and though men were falling on every hand, the main body pressed resistlessly forward, crossed the river, and took up a position on the right bank, at the base of the hills. Not a moment was wasted. As the column reached the shore, it diverged regiment by regiment to right and left, spreading out in wider formation for the task of scaling the heights. The evolution was executed with great speed, but with the precision and steadiness of parade; and if anything could be more impressive than the gallantry of the Japanese rank and file, it was the skill and coolness of their officers from General down to company commander. Though it was exposed to a withering fire at comparatively close quarters, the movements of the whole force were executed like those of a machine.

It will be remembered that there are two fords over the Ai river, the one leading from a position near Yulchasan, on the left bank, to a position slightly north of Yukushan, on the right bank; the other opposite to Tiger Hill, and a little to the north of Makau. It was opposite to this latter ford that the bulk of General Kashtalinsky's force was stationed, and here in consequence, the greatest losses befell the Japanese. But while a fierce engagement was raging at Makau, the decisive movement was taking place on the extreme left of the Russians at Yushukau. The defence at that spot was entrusted to only one battalion of the 22nd Regiment of Sharpshooters, and it was impossible for such a small contingent, gallantly as it held its ground for a time, finally to withstand the overwhelming legions which were hurled against it.

For slowly but steadily the Japanese lines encircled the hills with a ring of fate, creeping up the sides with infinite nimbleness and dexterity, pausing now to take cover and return the Russian fire, then up again and climbing from rock to rock with indomitable courage and resolution. On the other hand, General Kashtalinsky bravely fought on against his advancing foe. With the force at his command, it was obviously a desperate undertaking, and he had sent for reinforcements. But they came not, and for hours he had to do the best he could without them. The fact was, of course, that General Sassulitch himself was so busily engaged both on the right wing and at the centre that he could spare little assistance to his subordinate.

For almost simultaneously with the advance of the 12th Division across the Ai the Imperial Guards under General Hasegawa had forced the passage of the stream on the left, at the foot of the slope which led up to the village of Chiu-lien-cheng, while the 2nd Division, led by General Nishi, crossed lower down and menaced the Russian right. Four batteries of howitzers had been ferried across the stream from the left bank of the Yalu to the Island of Cheun-song-do, and as the skirmishing line of both divisions moved forward in a fan-like formation these powerful pieces of ordnance opened a destructive fire upon the enemy. A sharp rattle of musketry was the first sign that the Russians were prepared to contest the passage of the river in this quarter, but their field artillery remained silent, and it turned out afterwards that all the guns which had survived the bombardment of the previous day had been removed to the rear, or to strengthen General Kashtalinsky's position. As it was, the rifle fire from the trenches was very galling, and the Japanese lost a great many men, but the devastating effects of General Kuroki's artillery bombardment were beyond anything that the Russians could produce in return.

It was in one of these trenches on the ridge of the hills to the northeast of Chiu-lien-cheng that the greatest damage was wrought. As the Japanese infantry steadily advanced, General Sassulitch ordered forward a body of his supports from the immediate rear to occupy this trench. In order to obey this command they had to round a small spur of the hill and pass across the open. Their appearance against the sky-line provided a target which the Japanese gunners were not likely to neglect. Instantly a rain of shell and shrapnel was directed upon the black mass of human figures. Men were seen falling thick and fast under this withering fire; but still the Russians pressed on indomitably, and at the expense of great loss of life occupied the trench, whence they in turn poured a fierce rifle-fire upon the enemy below them. By this time, however, the Guards were swarming over the lower slopes of the hills around Chiu-lien-cheng, and General Hasegawa sent a strong force to the left of the Russian position to turn General Sassulitch's flank. At the same time General Nishi's men were climbing steadily up the ridge further south, and were threatening the Russian right.

It is interesting to note that the somewhat drab aspect of warfare which many of the operations in the South African war assumed, accustoming us to the idea that all picturesqueness had departed from modern combat, and that the ancient gauds and trappings so dear to the soldier's heart had been abandoned for ever, was entirely absent from this great battle in the Far East. The opposing forces were not separated from one another by illimitable distances of rolling veldt and brown hills. They were, on the contrary, so near as to recall the fighting in the Franco-German War, or the bloody combats around Plevna in the great struggle between Turkey and Russia nearly thirty years ago. And more remarkable still, the regimental colors which in our army are kept for ceremonial purposes in times of peace, and do not accompany the troops into the field, were carried by the Japanese in the front of the fighting line. Their presence must have assisted the fire of the enemy considerably; but there can be no doubt, on the other hand, of the inspiriting effect on the Mikado's men of seeing the blood-red banner of their race floating in the van and beckoning them forward to victory.

Steadily indeed, and without pause, those flaming banners advanced upon the doomed Russian position. The swing round of General Hasewaga's troops to the left of Chiu-lien-cheng decided the fate of General Sassulitch's centre, and after four hours' fighting the Japanese, climbing up the ridges like cats, charged into the Russian trenches. All the defenders who remained to contest the charge were bayonetted or taken prisoners, but the main body of the 9th and 10th Siberian Regiments retreated stubbornly towards Hoh-mu-tang, contesting every inch of the ground. The heights, however, in this part of the field were won, and at 9 o'clock a great shout of "Banzai"—the Japanese form of "hurrah"—went up all along the line, as the banners of the Rising Sun were planted upon the ridge and waved proudly in the breeze.

On their left the Russians under General Kashtalinsky were, as we have shown, making a more desperate resistance; but unable to obtain reinforcements in time, that gallant officer was compelled to retire before the advance of General Inouye's Division, which, by driving the battalion of the 22nd Regiment in rout before it at Yushukau, had completely crumpled up his flank. He therefore fell back slowly towards Hoh-mu-tang, fighting desperately against overwhelming odds opposed to him. It was not till noon, seven hours after the battle began, that reinforcements were at last sent to him. Then General Sassulitch ordered to his assistance the 11th Regiment, which all this time had been held in reserve well in the rear together with the 2nd Battery of the 6th Brigade of Field Artillery, under Lieutenant-Colonel Mouravsky.

With this new force General Kashtalinsky set about the heavy task of covering the retreat of the 12th and the 22nd Regiments, or as much of them as was left, and also of checking the Japanese advance if possible until the 9th and 10th Regiments had made sure of their communications along the road to Feng-hwang-cheng. It was now that the fiercest and bloodiest fighting of the day took place, and that the Russians in particular suffered their heaviest losses. For no sooner had General Kuroki captured the whole ridge from Antung and Antushan in the south to Yukushan in the north than he ordered his force, strengthened by the reserves, to hasten at full speed along three lines in the direction of the Feng-whang-cheng road to cut off General Sassulitch's retreat.

A strong detachment from General Inouye's Division, therefore, crossed westwards to Tan-lang-fang; the Imperial Guards marched rapidly along the main road from Chiu-lien-cheng; and the 2nd Division spread out towards Antung and pursued the retiring 9th and 10th Regiments. It was the Guards Division and the 12th Division with whom General Kashtalinsky had to deal in this last brave stand. He ordered the 11th Regiment under his chief of staff to assume a commanding position in the rear, from which they could fire upon the enemy from two sides. Lieutenant-Colonel Mouravsky's battery he held in reserve; and then he ordered the wearied troops of the 12th Regiment, the 22nd Regiment, and the 3rd Battery of the 6th Brigade to retire under cover of the fire of the 11th.

But before this manœuvre could be effected the fierce pursuit of the Japanese had gained its object. Both the Guards and the 12th Division reached the spot by 1 o'clock, and approaching from opposite sides, surrounded the hapless Russians. An enfilading fire made it impossible for the 3rd Battery to retire. Its horses were killed, and, therefore, Colonel Mouravsky, who assumed the command, ordered the gunners to take up a position where they stood and return the Japanese fire at close quarters. This they did with the greatest gallantry. They fought on steadily till not a man was left standing, their brave commander, Colonel Mouravsky, himself being among the last to fall. In the meanwhile, a company with machine guns had been ordered up to the assistance of the 3rd Battery. The officer in command, seeing the difficult situation of Colonel Mouravsky, took up a position, in the words of General Kashtalinsky's dispatch, "on his own initiative." He was no more fortunate than his superior officer. He, too, had entered the fatal ring of fire, and half his men and horses were shot down before he could render any effective service. An attempt to bring away his guns by hand and to take them under shelter of the hills under the terrible cross fire to which he was exposed, was no more successful, and the guns ultimately fell into the hands of the enemy. The case being evidently hopeless, the 2nd Battery, which had been brought up as a reinforcement to the 11th Regiment, was ordered back to rejoin the reserve by another road, but half its horses, too, were killed, and, finding it impossible to ascend the slopes without them, the officer in command brought his guns back to their original position, and there bravely, but unavailingly, received the Japanese attack.

Now ensued a fierce and bloody hand-to-hand combat, in which the utmost heroism was displayed on both sides. Closer and closer pressed the Japanese till the opposing forces were almost looking into one another's eyes, and rifle-fire was abandoned for cold steel. Again and again the Japanese desperately dashed themselves upon the serried ranks opposed to them, and again and again, in spite of the fearful execution wrought by each charge, they were hurled back. But bayonet charge followed bayonet charge, and at last the devoted band of Russians could hold out no more. In some quarters of the field the white flag was hoisted and numbers of men surrendered. But the main body, shattered as it was and a mere shadow of its former strength, fought its way through. A broken remnant of the 12th Regiment cut its way through and carried off the colors in safety, torn and riddled indeed, but not disgraced. The same fate befell the 11th Regiment, a small body of which, after several hours' fighting, forced a passage out of the melee and retreated to Hoh-mu-tang with its colors preserved. But the losses of this regiment were enormous. Colonel Laming, the Colonel Commandant, Lieutenant-Colonels Dometti and Raievsky, and forty subordinate officers were left dead upon the field, and 5,000 non-commissioned officers and men were killed or wounded. More than 30 officers and 400 men surrendered. The casualties sustained by the Japanese were nearly 1,000 killed and wounded.

Russian Demoralization—On the Heels of the Enemy—Remarkable Japanese Strategy—The Paper Army—The Thin Black Line of Reinforcements—Position of the Russian Army—Kuropatkin Tied to his Railway—The Second Scheme of Attack—A Model of Organization—Perfect Secrecy of Plans—Cutting off Port Arthur—Alexeieff's Command of Language—And the Sober Truth—Third Blocking Attempt—Lurid Flashing of Searchlights—On the Bones of their Predecessors—Half the Passage Blocked—Honored but Unarmed—Russian Acknowledgements—Terrific Casualties—Togo for Liao-tung—The Japanese Landings—Escape of Alexeieff—Port Arthur Isolated.

The signal victory of the despised Japanese at the Yalu River filled official circles in St. Petersburg with the liveliest dismay and shook that determined optimism which had survived even the unexampled series of naval disasters sustained by the power of the Czar in the Far East. There seems never to have been the least doubt among the Grand Dukes and the Bureaucrats by whom the Emperor was surrounded that whatever fate might befall the fleet, the "yellow monkeys," as they elegantly called their foes, would fly headlong before the onslaught of the Russian soldiery, accustomed as it was to victory on many a bloody field in Europe. The fatuity of this overweening confidence now stood revealed, and it was at last tardily recognized that as stern a task awaited the Russian forces on land as at sea. But St. Petersburg officialdom, wounded in pride and shaken in nerve as it was, still preserved a bold front to the world, and excuses for the disaster that had befallen the Russian arms were as prolific as ever. The army at the disposal of General Sassulitch, it was explained, was but a small one; that commander had blundered, and by giving battle to an overwhelmingly superior force, had disobeyed or misunderstood the orders of General Kuropatkin; and in any case, although severe losses were admitted, the main body had retreated in good order to Feng-hwang-cheng, and the morale of the troops was unshaken. The plea that General Sassulitch was solely responsible for the defeat which had befallen the Muscovite arms, and that he had failed to follow the instructions of his superior, has already been dealt with, and its extreme improbability has been demonstrated, though, even if it were accurate, it would throw a very unflattering light upon the powers of Russian leadership in the higher commands. It was soon, however, to be shown that the suggestion that the army of the Yalu had retired in good order and with unshaken morale was equally devoid of truth. As a matter of fact, the fierce pursuit of the Japanese and the heavy losses which they inflicted upon the retreating Russians at Hoh-mu-tang and elsewhere on the road to Feng-hwang-cheng reduced the defeat to an utter rout, and it became impossible for Sassulitch to make a stand at the latter point, naturally strong as it was and admirably calculated to resist an attack.

AFTER THREE MONTHS.

The war began with the night attack on Port Arthur on February 8, but it was not until two months later that the Japanese appeared on the south-eastern border of Manchuria. On April 4 they occupied Wiju, on the 21st troops began to land at Tatungkau, and on May 1 took place the first great battle of the campaign, when the Japanese forced the passage of the Yalu, and drove the Russians back upon Feng-wang-cheng. On May 6 the latter place was occupied without resistance.

The shaded portion shows the Japanese advance.

After a day or two spent in recuperating his tired troops, whose tremendous exertions during the previous week must have tested their powers of endurance to the utmost, and also in bringing his heavy guns and supply train across the river from Wiju, in preparation for the march General Kuroki began a forward movement into Manchuria with his whole army. The cavalry led the advance, operating over a wide area of country and sweeping the scattered units of the Russians before it. Some sharp skirmishes took place at Erh-tai-tsu and San-tai-tsu, but no real difficulty was interposed in the way of the victorious Japanese, who drove the enemy in flight before them. On May 6th the foremost cavalry vedettes reached Feng-hwang-cheng, and instead of finding the strongly held entrenchments which the Russian press was even then busily assuring a sceptical Europe would prevent any further advance on the part of the presumptuous foe, they discovered that the troops of General Sassulitch had been withdrawn, and they entered the deserted town without having to fire a shot. The leading columns of the infantry, following quickly behind, marched in and took possession on the same day. Before his hurried departure General Sassulitch had ordered the magazine to be blown up, but large quantities of hospital and other stores fell into the hands of the Japanese. General Kuroki's main body was not far in the rear, and the position of the whole army was soon securely established at this important point. Feng-hwang-cheng is situated at a mountain pass on the Liao-yang road, at a distance of about 25 miles from the Yalu. As already stated, it possesses great strategical importance. It is the centre at which the roads meet, coming from Liao-yang, Haicheng, and Kaiping, places which are situated at about equal distances from one another along the Manchurian railway from north to south, and it therefore constitutes a point d'appui from which a force could be thrown against any of them, while it is itself a position of great strength. General Kuroki immediately began to entrench himself strongly at this spot and to consolidate his forces, while he waited for the highly important developments which were now to take place in other quarters of the theatre of war.

A wide view of the position of affairs as they now stood over the entire field of operations is necessary at this point in order to make clear the remarkable events that followed, and to throw into full relief the extraordinary qualities of the Japanese strategy—a strategy conceived after the most patient study of all the conditions of the problems and worked out in practice with almost machine-like regularity and precision.

When General Kuropatkin arrived at Mukden at the end of March and took over the command from General Linevitch, he had on paper an army of over 250,000 men. It was made up as follows: 223,000 infantry; 21,764 cavalry; 4,000 engineers; and artillery consisting of 496 field guns, 30 horse artillery guns, and 24 machine guns. This large force was organized in four Army Corps, each with divisions of infantry and its quota of artillery and cavalry; while there were also two independent divisions of Cossacks, four brigades of Frontier Guards, railway troops, fortress artillery and a number of small units not allotted. The First Army Corps was under the command of General Baron Stackelberg, the Second under General Sassulitch, the Third under General Stoessel, and the Fourth under General Zarubaieff. It was an imposing force, this army of Manchuria, calculated to strike terror into the hearts of an Oriental enemy, but unfortunately for the Russians it lacked one thing, and that was reality. The actual position of affairs was indeed very different. To begin with, the greater part of the troops were not near the front at all when the Commander-in-Chief appeared upon the scene to direct operations, but were being pushed along the Siberian Railway with a feverish haste which at the same time did not denote proportionate speed. When they did arrive they arrived in detached fragments, and the desperate necessities of the case did not admit of adherence to the paper arrangements. For instance, the 7th and 8th Divisions, which should have formed part of the Second Army Corps under General Sassulitch, were, as a matter of fact, sent to assist in garrisoning Port Arthur and Vladivostock. Port Arthur, it will be remembered, was by this time under the command of General Stoessel, who was therefore unable to direct the operations of the Third Army Corps, which properly should have been entrusted to him. On the other hand, the 3rd East Siberian Rifle Division, which belonged to that Corps, and the 6th East Siberian Rifle Division, which should have been attached to the First Army Corps, were sent to the Yalu, where, as we have already seen, they took part in the ill-fated conflict of the 1st of May. It will be observed from these shifts—only a few of the most noticeable out of many—that the Army Corps system of the Manchurian Army had completely broken down, and that the ideal of a coherent fighting force, with officers and men trained together in peace under the conditions to which they would be subjected in war, had not been attained in the slightest degree. The lack of organization which prevailed in the distribution of the larger commands was equally manifest in the mobilization of the units of which they were composed. Regiments were not complete; hastily-formed levies had to be added to bring them up to their nominal strength; and the ranks of the officers had to be filled up in many cases with volunteers from regiments in other parts of the Empire. The result was a composite force very different indeed in fighting power from the splendid machine which the Mikado's strategists had been carefully perfecting in time of peace in readiness for the struggle which they had so long foreseen.

In bringing even this haphazard collection of unco-ordinated units to the front in Manchuria, the greatest difficulties had been experienced. All that European observers had predicted about the working capacity of a railway like the Trans-Siberian for the conveyance of a huge army for thousands of miles came true to the letter. Prince Khilkoff, the Director-General of Russian Railways, undoubtedly did wonders, and the tremendous efforts which he and his staff put forth, especially in surmounting the great natural obstacle presented by Lake Baikal, were worthy of all praise. But to carry an army of 250,000 men, with all its necessary supplies and munitions of war, into Manchuria in the time required for the purpose of striking an effective blow at an enemy like the Japanese was a task beyond the powers of any railway staff in the world. The rickety single line, with infrequent sidings, which stretches across the steppes of Siberia from Harbin to the Urals was quite inadequate for such a feat of transport. By the middle of May, therefore, the position in which General Kuropatkin found himself—a position partly created by himself, as Minister of War, and partly created for him by the ineptitude of others—was widely different from that which the easy and thoughtless optimists in St. Petersburg had anticipated when the war broke out. The Fourth Army Corps was not across Lake Baikal; 30,000 or 40,000 men were shut up in the fortresses of Port Arthur and Vladivostock, and were not only useless for field operations, but were themselves liable to siege and capture; and, allowing the highest possible estimate, the Russian Commander-in-Chief had at his disposal for assuming the offensive in Manchuria no more than 100,000 men with 260 guns.

With this army he was holding the railway line from Mukden to Port Arthur, a distance of about 230 miles. His headquarters were at Liao-yang, and he held Haicheng and Kaiping in force, while a detachment was thrown out to the south-west and occupied Niuchwang. In the extreme south Port Arthur, though closely blockaded from the sea by the watchful Togo, was as yet open to communication by land, and no attempt had hitherto been made by the Japanese to secure a footing on the Liao-tung Peninsula. On the east of the Liao-yang—Kaiping line the Russian troops occupied three important passes, namely, Ta-ling, about 50 miles distant, in a northeasterly direction, from Liao-yang; the Motien-ling, about 25 miles away on the main road to Feng-hwang-cheng; and Fen-chu-ling, half way on the road from Tashihchao to Siuyen. Tashihchao is on the railway midway between Haicheng and Kaiping. The Motien-ling Pass was the scene of a sanguinary combat between the Chinese and the Japanese in the war of 1894, and on that occasion the Mikado's forces had the greatest trouble in capturing it. Besides holding these passes General Kuropatkin had pushed forward his Cossack patrols to scour the country as far as Feng-hwang-cheng, and constant small encounters took place between them and General Kuroki's outposts during the ensuing six weeks.

It is clear from this brief statement of the Russian position that the Japanese, always provided that they could retain the command of the sea, were placed at a great strategical advantage compared with their enemy. Holding their First Army poised at Feng-hwang-cheng, they could throw their Second and Third Armies upon the coast at any point that suited them best for the purpose of making a great combined movement. On the other hand, Kuropatkin was practically tied to the railway, and, with the inadequate force at his disposal, could not advance against Kuroki to destroy him in detail before the arrival of fresh armies from Japan. He was liable to attack at any point, and it was the peculiar difficulty of his situation that he could not tell which point would be selected. As a matter of fact, when the blow fell, as it soon did with crushing effect, he was powerless to prevent it.

The chapter of strategy which now opens is a fascinating one to any student of war, and fortunately its main features can be readily appreciated also by any layman who makes an intelligent study of a map of Manchuria and the Liao-tung Peninsula. The prime object of the Japanese plainly was to cut General Kuropatkin's extended line of communications, isolate Port Arthur, and then attempt to envelope his main force by advancing simultaneously from the south, the east, and the northeast. It was consequently necessary, as a preliminary, to establish the First Army securely in Manchuria, it being clear that with this menace on his left flank, General Kuropatkin would not be able to detach many troops to the south to prevent the investment of Port Arthur. Everything, therefore, depended on the fortune that would attend the advance of General Kuroki across the Yalu, and the Moltkes at Tokio, after a patient study of all the conditions of an intricate problem, had thought out two great alternative schemes to meet the eventuality either of victory or defeat. In case of General Kuroki's finding the task of crossing the Yalu unaided to be an insuperable one, the Second Army, under General Oku, was to be landed at Takushan, a port on the coast some miles to the west of the mouth of the river, and thence to strike a blow at General Sassulitch's right flank. On the other hand, if Kuroki met with success, Oku's army was to be landed at a point on the Liao-tung Peninsula to cut Kuropatkin's communications and invest Port Arthur. As we have seen, General Kuroki's signal triumph at the Yalu River rendered the first alternative unnecessary, and opened the way for the more decisive and dramatic stroke involved in the second scheme.

But before anything could be done to land the Second Army, either at Takushan or on the Liao-tung Peninsula, it was imperatively necessary to disarm the Russian Fleet at Port Arthur, and prevent even the remotest possibility of its interfering with the operations. Here, as always, the two services, the army and the navy, had to work in close correspondence and interdependence. From the beginning of the war these separate branches of the Japanese forces had fitted into one another like parts of the same piece of machinery, the whole directed by one uniform purpose and striving towards one great common end. The joint schemes of the naval and military strategists at Tokio will ever provide an invaluable object-lesson to all students of the art of war; and it may be predicted that they will prove of valuable assistance to the strategists of our own army and navy. One of the most remarkable features of the war has been the certainty and precision with which the Japanese have worked out their complex plans; it is no less remarkable, and affords a further striking evidence of their efficiency, that they felt able, absolutely, to count upon that certainty and precision, and to make arrangements long beforehand, which with a less carefully organized scheme and less trustworthy commanders to carry it out would have been foolhardy, or at least wasteful. Failure in any real sense does not seem to have entered into their calculations. One portion of the plan, indeed, might miscarry, but, as we have seen, partial failure had been provided against, and a rapid modification of strategy to meet the case would have been possible. It was, in fact, one of the most interesting examples of the application of brains to war that have ever been seen in the history of the world.

In the action and inter-action, then, of this great double machine, the army had done all that it was possible for it to do for the moment; and once again it came round to the turn of the navy to make the next decisive move. Upon the success of this move may be said to have depended the whole success of the after operations, but, calculating with absolute confidence upon the skill of Admiral Togo, the Mikado's strategists had already put the Second Army into a state of complete preparation, and had even ordered it to be conveyed to a place from which it could be transferred to the front at any quarter at a moment's notice. Arrangements for its embarkation were begun as soon as General Kuroki reached Wiju with the First Army in the early days of April. When that commander was able to report that his dispositions for the attack upon the Russian entrenchments on the right bank of the Yalu were well advanced, the process of embarking General Oku's troops was started at once. Not a hint was allowed to escape as to their destination; even if the press correspondents, chafing under their enforced inaction at Tokio, had learnt the name, the censor would not have let it pass to the outer world; but, as a matter of fact, it is safe to say that the secret was safely locked in the breasts of half a dozen men. By April 22nd the whole army with its transports, commissariat, ammunition train, and hospital corps, had been put on board ship, and said farewell to the shores of Japan, vanishing, for all the world could tell, into the inane. For more than a fortnight nothing further was heard of it No one could report its landing anywhere, no one could say what it was doing, and day by day the mystery grew more mysterious. Only on May 7th was the veil lifted, when this great army fell upon the coast of Liao-tung as if from the heavens, and proceeded to the investment of Port Arthur. The truth was that during this fortnight it had been lying perdu on some small islands close to the west coast of Korea, called the Sir James Hall group, and distant 160 miles in a southeastern direction from the shores of Liao-tung.

Here, briefly stated, is the manner in which the scheme worked out. On May 1st General Kuroki triumphantly crossed the Yalu and stormed the heights above Chiu-lien-cheng. On May 2nd Admiral Togo descended once more upon Port Arthur, and blocked the harbor completely by sinking eight steamers at the entrance to the channel. On the afternoon of May 3rd, having made sure of the thoroughness of the work, he set off at full speed for the Sir James Hall Islands, reaching his destination by early morning on the 4th. Everything there was in readiness for the expedition, and within a few hours the whole of the transports, escorted by the fleet, set sail for the east coast of Liao-tung. At dawn the next day they reached the point on the peninsula which had been selected for the landing—Yentoa Bay—and in a few short hours a considerable portion of the force had been disembarked, the resistance offered by a small detachment of Cossacks, the only force possessed by the Russians in the neighborhood, being entirely negligible. On the 6th the railway line was severed, and in a few days more the Japanese were sitting securely astride of the peninsula, and Port Arthur was cut off from the world. The scheme had been carried out like the combinations of a skilful chess player, or like the successive steps of a mathematical problem.

It is necessary now to follow the development of these operations more in detail. The first that falls to be described is the successful attempt, the third of the series, to block the entrance to the harbor of Port Arthur. But before giving the real version of this thrilling enterprise it may be interesting to quote the report sent to the Grand Admiral unconquerable Alexeieff, whose optimism rose superior to every disaster and the alchemy of whose dispatches could still transmute defeat into signal victory. Here is the message, so soothing to the nerves of his fellow-countrymen, in which he announced the event that enabled the Japanese to land troops at any point they desired up their enemy's coasts:—

"I respectfully report to your Highness that a fresh attack made by the enemy last night with the object of obstructing the entrance to the port was successfully repelled.

"At 1 o'clock in the morning five torpedo-boats were perceived near the coast from the eastern batteries. Under the fire of our batteries and warships they retreated southward.

"At 1.45 the first fireship, escorted by several torpedo-boats, came in sight. We opened fire upon it from our batteries and warships. Three-quarters of an hour afterwards our searchlights revealed a number of fireships making for the entrance to the harbor from the east and southeast. The Otvajni, the Giliak, the Gremiashtchi, and the batteries on the shore repulsed each Japanese ship by a well-directed fire.

"Altogether eight ships were sunk by our vigorous cannonade, by Whitehead torpedoes launched from our torpedo-boats, and by the explosion of several submarine mines.

"Further, according to the reports of the officers commanding the batteries and the warship Giliak, two Japanese torpedo-boats were destroyed.

"After 4 a. m., the batteries and gunboats ceased fire, subsequently firing only at intervals on the enemy's torpedo-boats, which were visible on the horizon.

"All the fireships carried quick-firing guns, with which the enemy maintained a constant fire.

"Up to the present thirty men, including two mortally wounded officers who sought refuge in the launches, or were rescued from the fireships by us, have been picked up. The inspection of the roadstead and the work of saving drowning men are hindered by the heavy sea which is running.

"We suffered no casualties with the exception of a seaman belonging to the torpedo-boat destroyer Boevoi."

No one reading this remarkable account could imagine that it described an operation which ultimately sealed the doom of Port Arthur. For a more sober but a more accurate narrative we must turn to the dispatches of Admiral Togo. On May 2nd, as already recounted, the Japanese Naval Commander-in-Chief received the news of the successful crossing of the Yalu. His plans were already laid and his preparations were complete. Eight merchant steamers this time had been secured for the service, and upwards of 20,000 men volunteered for the glorious duty of manning them and dying for their country. Of these, 159 were ultimately selected. The names of the steamers were the Mikawa, Sakura, Totomi, Yedo, Otaru, Sagami, Aikoku, and Asagawo. The vessels ordered to escort the doomed hulks were the gunboats Akagi and Chokai, the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th destroyer flotillas, and the 9th, 10th, and 14th torpedo-boat flotillas. The whole force, which was under the command of Commander Hayashi, started for its destination on the night of May 2nd.

It is a melancholy circumstance, typical of the sombre, but ofttimes splendid, tragedy of war, that of this third and most successful attempt to block the harbor the narrative is necessarily the most fragmentary and obscure, owing to the loss of life which it entailed. On the two previous occasions, reckless as was the gallantry of the Japanese and enormous as were the risks they ran, the casualties were surprisingly small, and the majority of the men engaged were able to return to their ships and tell the story of their enterprise. On this night, however, everything was against success; the Russians were more fully prepared to meet attack than they had ever been before; their shooting was more effective; and worse still, the weather turned out wholly unfavorable, the ships had to proceed singly upon their way; and when they were sunk the difficulties in the way of recovering their crews proved more than usually arduous, and most of them were either shot or drowned or taken prisoner. In spite of all these adverse circumstances a splendid success was achieved, but it was achieved under conditions which largely obliterated the record, and leaves but sparse material for the historian.

The broad outlines of the story, however, are clear. When the steamers with their accompanying flotillas were well on their way, a strong southeasterly breeze sprang up, which rapidly freshened into a gale. It was impossible in the circumstances to keep the vessels together, and, fearing that the attack would in consequence be ineffective, Commander Hayashi signalled to his subordinates to abandon the expedition for the time being. But the weather and the heavy seas prevented his signals from being observed, and the gallant enterprise therefore proceeded unchecked. By one in the morning the 14th torpedo-boat flotilla reached the roadstead and pressed steadily towards the eastern side of the harbor mouth. The little vessels were soon exposed to the glare of the searchlights, and at once a furious bombardment broke out upon them from the Russian gunboats and the shore batteries. For the moment they retreated, drawing the enemy's fire upon them, while the leading steamer, which was close behind, made a dash for the channel. This vessel was the Mikawa, under the command of Lieut. Sosa. The Russians, as we have said, were much better prepared to resist attack than on previous occasions. Piles of combustibles, stationed at various points on the shore on each side of the harbor mouth, were set on fire, and cast a lurid light on the scene, throwing into strong relief the dark forms of the advancing ships, while the searchlights flashed backwards and forwards over the unquiet surface of the sea, and made every movement of the Japanese fatally visible to the defenders on the fortress. A storm of missiles burst over the devoted expedition, but undeterred, intent only on reaching the centre of the channel, Lieut. Sosa pushed his vessel forward at the top of her speed. Nothing could stop him or his crew—nor raging sea, nor searchlight, nor even the rain of shot and shell. The Mikawa stuck bravely to her course, and, breaking through the boom which stretched across the mouth, anchored right in the middle of the channel. In a moment the fuse was lighted, and as the commander and his crew pushed off in the boats the ship blew up and sank in the fairway. The Sakura, which was not far behind, was less lucky than her companion. She was driven upon a rock at the eastern side of the entrance, and blew up outside the channel.

There was a short pause, and then came a fresh contingent of fireships, rushing upon destruction. The aim of the Russian gunners had much improved; in the fierce glare of the searchlights and the flaming beacons every detail of the steamers was distinctly visible, and that they should have succeeded in advancing into the channel in the face of such a withering blast as swept across their course was little short of a miracle. The waters, too, were thickly sown with mines, in readiness for such an assault as this, and they did serious execution. The Aikoku was distant only five cables from the mouth when she struck one of these deadly engines and blew up, her race cut short just when the goal was at hand. Her commander, Lieut. Uchida, the chief engineer, Aoki, and eight of the crew were killed or drowned. The Asagawo was riddled with shot, her rudder was smashed, and drifting upon the shore beneath Golden Hill, she blew up and sank where the bones of so many of her predecessors were already reposing.

But the other vessels were more successful. The Otaru and the Sagami reached the harbor mouth before they were sunk, and contributed a large share to the obstruction of the entrance. The Yedo did better still, for she got further up than these two others. Just as her anchor was being got ready her gallant commander, Lieut. Takayanagi, fell dead, shot through the stomach; but there was no pause in the operations. Sub-Lieut. Nagatu at once stepped into his superior's place, and, anchoring the ship with the utmost coolness, sank her in the fairway. The Totomi did best of all, for, like the Mikawa, she burst through the boom in the teeth of the Russian guns, got well inside, and turning right across the channel from east to west, sank in that position, blocking up at least half the passage.

Admiral Togo, in his brief and dignified way, thus referred to the magnificent services rendered by the men who had fallen in this great enterprise:—"The undertaking, when compared with the last two attempts, involved a heavier casualty on our side owing to the inclemency of the weather and increased preparation for defence of the enemy. We could not save any of the officers and men of the Otaru, Sagami, Sakura and Asagawo, and I regret that nothing particular could be learned about the gallant way in which they discharged their duties, although the memory of their exemplary conduct will long survive in the Imperial navy."

But though the Japanese Commander-in-Chief could learn nothing particular about the gallant way in which his men had performed their duties, the gap in our knowledge can fortunately be supplied, to some extent at all events, by the Russians, who bore ample and chivalrous testimony to the splendid heroism displayed by their foes. They acknowledged, said a telegram from St. Petersburg, "that the enemy attacked in brilliant style, seeming never to notice the murderous fire which greeted them." One incident in particular struck upon their minds and extorted from them the warmest expressions of admiration. "On board the fireships," they remarked, "were a number of Japanese cadets, who displayed extraordinary bravery. As the ships were sinking several of these lads rushed aloft, and sitting on the cross-trees of the topmasts, fired their revolvers before they plunged into the sea." The account ends with a sentence of terse significance: "It is believed that none were saved."

Of the total of 159 men engaged in this work of desperate heroism only 36 returned in safety, and of these 28 were wounded. Two officers (both mortally wounded) and 30 men were picked up by the Russians and taken prisoners. The number of the killed was 75. They had not died in vain. The harbor of Port Arthur was now securely blocked—not permanently indeed, for while divers and dynamite can be obtained no harbor in the world can be obstructed for ever in this way; but blocked to such an extent that the Russians could not get any big ships through for weeks, even given the most advantageous conditions in which to carry on the work of removing the obstacles. And for the momentous operations that were to follow the Japanese required not so much weeks as days.

The fleet remained off Port Arthur till the afternoon to make sure that all the rescue work possible had been accomplished. In this duty the destroyer and torpedo-boat flotillas rendered admirable service. Once again, happy to relate, they emerged themselves from the dangerous enterprise with singularly slight damages, and lost only two men killed. At last, having realized that no more remained to be done in saving life, and having made sure that the "bottle" had finally been "corked," Admiral Togo leaving behind a small squadron to watch Port Arthur, set off at full steam with his main fleet for the Sir James Hall Islands. There he was joined by the gunboat squadron under Rear-Admiral Hosoya, which had rendered such effective service in the lower reaches of the river at the battle of the Yalu. The transports, with the Second Army on board, were practically ready for departure, and on the morning of the 4th of May the whole expedition set out for the Liao-tung Peninsula. At daybreak on the 5th Yentoa Bay was sighted.

Yentoa Bay is admirably suited for the landing of a large force, for the shelving shore, with shallow waters, presents no difficulty to the approach of boats such as the Japanese use for this purpose. Furthermore, it possesses great strategical advantages. It is within easy striking distance of the railway, while the country in the immediate neighborhood favors the advance of an attacking force and gives little opportunity for defence. The likelihood of a landing here, however, does not seem to have occurred to the Russians, who had prepared instead for a descent upon Niuchwang. The whole affair is an excellent illustration of the advantages conferred upon a combatant by the command of the sea, especially when the openings for attack are numerous, as they are in the case of the Liao-tung Peninsula. General Kuropatkin could not tell where the descent of the enemy would be made, and though he could defend some of the possible points, he could not defend all. The Japanese, on the other hand, could select the spot that suited them best without any serious risk of interference. Yentoa Bay was therefore practically undefended when Admiral Togo's fleet arrived convoying the Second Army. A troop of about 100 Cossacks was patrolling the shore, but the gunboat squadron quickly dispersed it with a few shells, and the work of landing could then be carried through without interruption.

The first to make for the shore was a force of marines, two battalions of whom waded through the shallows and occupied the rising ground above the shore. Within an hour the advance guard of the army itself had been disembarked, and the rest of General Oku's troops quickly followed; the whole process being carried out with the smoothness and dispatch which characterized all the operations of this kind on the Japanese side. On the 6th, a flying column was sent to the northwards to seize the small port of Pitszewo, and more important still, another column moved across the neck of the peninsula with great rapidity and, occupying Pulantien, broke up the railway and cut off all communication between General Kuropatkin and Port Arthur. But before this was done one notable train load of passengers managed to escape from the beleaguered fortress. Chief among them were the Viceroy of the Far East, Admiral Alexeieff himself, and the Grand Duke Boris. They left only just in time. The gallant Admiral of the inventive pen had at last discovered that the repulse of the Japanese naval attack on which he had prided himself in his grandiloquent dispatch to the authorities at St. Petersburg was in reality no repulse at all; that as a matter of fact the Japanese had done just what they wanted to do; and that they were now able to proceed, in their methodical way, to land troops on the peninsula and invest Port Arthur. That the Viceroy should be shut up in the fortress, too, was not to be thought of—though probably it would have been better for the success of General Kuropatkin's strategy if his troublesome colleague had been safely removed out of the way for the rest of the campaign—and so by a desperate effort the gallant Admiral burst through the gradually tightening cordon.

After the first interruption of communications the Japanese force temporarily withdrew, and the success of the Russians in relaying the line and in running a train loaded with ammunition through to Port Arthur revived the drooping spirits of the official classes in St. Petersburg. The act was one of extreme gallantry, and reflected the highest credit on Colonel Spiridonoff, the officer in command, but beyond giving the garrison some greatly needed supplies it did not materially alter the situation. The line was again broken up, the Japanese occupied the neck of land in force, and in a few days Port Arthur was completely cut off from the outer world.

The First Japanese Disaster—The "Hatsuse" Strikes a Mine—Admiral Togo Undaunted—Rammed in the Fog—Renewed Russian Hopes—The Vladivostock Squadron—A Thrill Through the Civilized Globe—Skrydloff the Raider—Kamimura on the Track—Approaching Port Arthur—The Importance of Nanshan—Japanese Dispositions—General Oku's Attack—Terrific Carnage—A General Bombardment—Chances of Defeat—Rushing the Trenches—The Russians in Flight—Tremendous Moral Effect—Terrific Casualties—Alarm in St. Petersburg—Fatal Russian Strategy—Old Tactics versus New—The Veil over the Tragedy.

The Japanese fleet, as we have seen in the last chapter, had once again done its work thoroughly. The Russian fleet, crippled in the early days of the war and harried incessantly ever since, was now for weeks to come securely shut up in the harbor of Port Arthur, and could do nothing seriously to affect the course of events. Admiral Togo, with his six powerful battleships and his splendid cruisers, had absolute command of the Gulf of Pechili, and the transports from Japan were able to pour troops with perfect safety upon the shores of the Liao-tung Peninsula. It was at this moment of conspicuous success that the first serious calamity of the war overtook the Japanese Navy, and two terrible accidents occurred which filled the Russians with hope, as appearing to betoken a turn at last in the tide of fortune and to threaten the forces of the Mikado with something like the cloud of misfortune that had so far hung over their opponents. There was, however, this notable difference between the two cases. The losses suffered by the Russians at sea were almost all due to their own lack of forethought or of skill; they seemed to court defeat, and defeat came to them in full measure. But the blow which now befell the Japanese fleet was of a kind which the utmost ability and precaution could hardly have prevented, and, moreover, serious as it was, it did not materially affect the main course of the campaign, although undoubtedly it compelled the Commander-in-Chief in some degree to modify his plan of operations.

The disaster was a double one. On one and the same day, the 15th of May, the magnificent battleship, the Hatsuse, was blown up by mines and sunk with fully 500 men; and the protected cruiser, Yoshino, colliding with the Kasuga in a dense fog, was totally lost, only 90 of her crew being saved.

It was at a spot ten miles southeast of Liaotishan promontory that the Hatsuse met her fate. With the Shikishima, the Yashima, and two cruisers, she was engaged in watching Port Arthur and protecting the landing of troops on the peninsula. Heavy fogs come off the land in the Gulf of Pechili at this period of the year, and during the morning navigation had been rendered difficult owing to this reason, but by 11 o'clock the weather had changed and the sky was clear. No enemy was in sight, when suddenly, without any warning, a shock was felt under the stern of the Hatsuse and a heavy explosion took place, damaging her steering gear. She signalled to the other ships at once to stand by and give assistance, but before anything could be done another mine exploded under her and tore a great yawning hole in her plates. The water rushed into her in torrents, and at once the great ship began to settle down. In a few moments, with appalling swiftness, she sank like a stone, with all her freight of humanity. Had the catastrophe occurred during the night hardly a man could have been saved, but fortunately in the broad daylight something could be done to lessen the tale of death. The boats of the other battleships and the cruisers were quickly upon the spot and succeeded in picking up 300 officers and men out of a total complement of about 800. Among these were Rear-Admiral Nashiba and Captain Nakao, the commander of the vessel. The list of the drowned included some of the brightest officers of the Japanese Navy, including Commander Tsukamoto, Commander Count Nire, and Commander Arimori. Besides these, five second lieutenants, five engineers, two surgeons, six midshipmen, four engineer cadets, and ten non-commissioned officers perished.

While the work of rescue was proceeding, sixteen of the Russian torpedo-boat destroyers seized the opportunity to come out of the harbor and effect a diversion, but the Japanese destroyer flotillas engaged them hotly, and other cruisers from Togo's fleet coming up with all speed, drove them back into Port Arthur.

The Hatsuse, which was built at Elswick in 1899 after the type of the English ship Majestic, was a ship of 15,000 tons displacement, and 15,000 indicated horse-power. She could steam 18 knots, her armor was 14.6 inches, and the weight of her broadside fire was 4,240 lbs. Her destruction of course meant a serious weakening of Togo's first fighting line, for six battleships were by no means too large a force for the work he had to do. Moreover, the Hatsuse, with the Asahi, Shikishima, and Mikasa, were the most modern and up-to-date ships of their class in the fleet; the Yashima and the Fuji, which completed the list, being older and less heavily armed vessels. Nevertheless the grip of the Japanese Admiral upon the beleaguered port never slackened one whit, and in the event his five battleships, with their accompanying cruisers, were destined to prove more than a match for the navy of the Czar in the great battle in blue water which took place three months afterwards.

The sinking of the Yoshino was not so heavy a blow, but it was serious enough in the circumstances, and the loss of life was in itself greatly to be deplored. This second-class protected cruiser was also built at Messrs. Armstrong's famous works on the Tyne. She was of 4,180 tons displacement, and her engines had an indicated horse-power of 15,750, with a speed of 23 knots, and a weight of broadside fire of 780 lbs. She was quite an old ship, as modern men-of-war go, having been launched in 1892, and taking an honorable part in the Chino-Japanese war of 1895.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Another month elapsed before the Vladivostock squadron proved troublesome again. It had then come directly under the control of the new Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific fleet, Admiral Skrydloff, who had been appointed to succeed the ill-fated Makaroff, and whose reputation in the Russian navy was second only to that of his distinguished predecessor. Unfortunately for Russia, Admiral Skrydloff arrived in the Far East too late to reach his main fleet. At Harbin he learnt that Port Arthur was invested both by land and sea, and that it was impossible for him to assume the command at the place where his services were most needed. He was, therefore, compelled to go on to Vladivostock instead and direct the operations of the cruiser squadron there in the desperate hope that at a later period an opportunity might occur of effecting a junction with his Port Arthur fleet. A further piece of bad news awaited him at the northern port. One of the four cruisers which were all that now furnished his attenuated command had gone ashore in a fog a few days previously, and had become a total wreck. This was the Bogatyr. She was, indeed, the smallest ship in the squadron, being a second-class protected cruiser of 6,750 tons, but her speed was high, and her loss in the dark circumstances of the hour was a serious blow. However, the gallant Admiral proceeded to make the best of the material which lay at his disposition, and in the course of the next two months he pursued most vigorous tactics, venturing southwards with great frequency, harrying the coasts of Japan, and bringing maritime commerce in that part of the world almost to a standstill.

Admiral Kamimura with his cruisers made the most strenuous efforts to catch his elusive enemy, but the bad luck which had visited him at Gensan at the end of April continued to dog him still for a long time. Again and again a convenient fog intervened to favor the escape of the Russians; moreover, the Japanese squadron had to be depleted in order to furnish aid to the main fleet which was blockading Port Arthur, and assisting in the landing of troops; and furthermore, the strategic necessity of closely guarding the Straits between Japan and Korea and preventing the possibility of a junction between the two Russian fleets, severely limited the area of Kamimura's activity. In these circumstances Admiral Skrydloff's cruisers had an almost uncheckered run of success for a period of two months. The Japanese Admiral came in for some sharp criticism at the hands of the general public in Japan for his apparent lack of energy, but the authorities at Tokio, who had all the conditions of the campaign before them in their true proportions, trusted him thoroughly, and their trust was magnificently vindicated on the 14th of August, when he at last managed to trap the Russians into his net, and administered to them a signal defeat in a pitched battle on the high seas.

A return must now be made to the land operations upon the Liao-tung Peninsula. Undeterred by the loss of the Hatsuse and the Yoshino, the Japanese continued to pour in troops at Yentoa Bay and Pitszewo. At the same time the 3rd Army, under General Nodzu, began to disembark at Takushan. But it was to General Oku and the 2nd Army that the honor fell of striking the next blow for the Mikado. This was the capture of Kinchau and the storming of the Russian entrenchments on Nanshan Hill, which, after preliminary operations lasting over some days, was finally effected on the 26th of May.

The narrow neck of land, a mile and three-quarters in breadth, running between Kinchau Bay on the west and Hand Bay—a small inlet of Talienwan Bay—on the east, possesses great strategical importance. The high ground to the south of it, of which the salient point is the Nanshan Hill, completely commands the approach to Port Arthur from the north, and, as it cannot be outflanked by any ordinary method, it gives an admirable opportunity, to a defending force to resist an attack from that quarter. It is, indeed, commanded in its turn by an eminence called Mount Sampson, which lies to the northeast; but in this instance the disadvantage was more than counterbalanced by the fact that the Japanese could only oppose to the heavy fortress guns which the Russians had mounted on Nanshan, field artillery of an inferior calibre. After the landing of the enemy at Yentoa and the cutting of the railway had made clear the imminence of the peril which threatened Port Arthur, the governor of the fortress, General Stoessel, wasted no time in erecting powerful defences at this naturally strong position. During the ensuing weeks the Russian engineers went feverishly to work constructing entrenchments on Nanshan and the connecting chains of hills, and also on a second line of eminences further to the south, the chief of which is named Nankuenling. These careful preparations might well seem to have rendered the position impregnable. Ten forts almost permanent in character were established on Nanshan, and at every available point trenches and rifle pits were dug and concealed with the greatest skill, and their approaches guarded by barbed wire entanglements, while at convenient places mines were laid to entrap an unwary foe. Over 70 guns, many of them pieces of fortress artillery of heavy calibre, were placed in position here, and the whole was manned by a force of 12,000 men; the utmost number of troops that could with advantage be employed in such a confined area. Altogether, with the exception of Port Arthur itself, no more formidable obstacle has ever been presented to the advance of an invading army in modern times than was offered by General Stoessel at Kinchau. The village of Kinchau itself, it should be explained, though it gave the name to the battle, was of comparatively small strategical importance, lying as it does on the low ground to the northeast of the isthmus and offering an easy prey, but at the same time no particular advantage, to the enemy.

The concentration of the Japanese army proceeded in the circumstances with great rapidity. On the 21st of May, the whole force, consisting of three divisions, or about 60,000 men, was established to the north of Hand Bay. Under the protection of the angle formed by the range of hills to the south of Mount Sampson, the troops were formed up for battle, and General Oku explained to his chief subordinates his dispositions for the attack. Careful reconnaissances during the next two days, by drawing the fire of the enemy, revealed the strength of the Russian position, which stretched from Nanshan to the west to Hushangtao on the east. At this latter point eight guns were stationed, commanding the waters of Hand Bay, so that co-operation by the Japanese gunboats from this side was impossible. On the other hand, the Russians had a gunboat themselves stationed in the bay, and this was able to render valuable assistance to the defending force when the attack developed. On the west the waters of Kinchau Bay were too shallow to admit of the approach of vessels of any but the smallest draught, but four of the Japanese gunboats were able to enter close up to the shore, and gave conspicuous aid to General Oku in the course of the operations.

On the 25th of May the Russian positions at Kinchau and Nanshan were heavily bombarded, and General Oku extended his line to the north as well as to the east. At dawn on the next day the attack began in earnest. A fierce and sustained bombardment, lasting for five hours, prepared the way for the advance, after which the Japanese made an onslaught upon the village of Kinchau, and drove the Russians at the point of the bayonet back upon their main line of defence, Nanshan. In this attack they were greatly assisted by the gunboats, the Tsukushi, Saiyen, Akagi and Chiokai, which brought their fire to bear upon the enemy's batteries at Suchiatun and Nanshan, and kept them hotly engaged. The capture of Kinchau, however, was only the first step in the fiery progress which lay before the Mikado's troops. To dislodge the Russians from Nanshan itself was a work of much greater magnitude. It was to the 4th Division that the main part of this honorable duty was assigned, the centre of the Japanese line being held by the 1st Division, and the extreme left by the 3rd.

Another fierce artillery duel preluded the general advance. By 11 o'clock the Russian batteries appeared to have been silenced, and the Japanese pressed forward to storm the heights. But it turned out that General Stoessel was only reserving his fire. No sooner did the Japanese debouch into the open upon the slopes which led up to the hill than a storm of missiles swept across their path, mowing them down in serried masses. The wire entanglements, too, proved a deadly obstacle. Rush after rush was made by the gallant Japanese, but every attempt to get near to the trenches was vain. The carnage was terrific. The officers fell in all directions, the rank and file lay in piles of dead at the foot of the hill, and the advance came for a time to an absolute standstill.

It was clear that further artillery preparation was necessary, and therefore General Oku ordered a general bombardment once more. For hours his field batteries, supplemented by the gunboats, rained shot and shell upon the Russian positions, searching the whole range of forts and trenches, and doing terrible execution. The Russian fire slackened under this fearful cannonade, but still the Japanese continued their bombardment.

And now came the crucial moment of the day. The artillery ammunition of the attacking force began to give out. To bring up fresh supplies from far in the rear meant that before the bombardment could be resumed night would have fallen upon the scene, for it was by this time late in the afternoon. When this untoward intelligence was brought to him, General Oku was presented with a problem of the utmost difficulty and a responsibility which might well have seemed overwhelming. He must either hazard another infantry attack at once, fraught with all the possibility of failure, or he must temporarily withdraw his forces and wait for further ammunition and perhaps heavier guns. The second course meant only delay; the first, in the event of a repulse, meant not merely delay, but the possibility of a crushing defeat as well. It must be remembered, moreover, that the troops had been close upon sixteen hours in the field. In these circumstances a commander of less resolution and with less confidence in his men would have been under a strong temptation to choose the alternative which offered the smaller risk, but General Oku was made of different mettle. He knew that delay would upset the general arrangements of the campaign; he knew, too, that it might give a fatal opportunity for the advance of a relief force from the north. He therefore at once accepted the tremendous responsibility of ordering a resumption of the attack all along the line. Fortunately, a weak point in the Russian defences had been discovered. The shallow waters of Kinchau Bay allowed men to wade in and approach Nanshan from the southwest, at a point at which, owing to the angle of emplacement of the Russian guns, they could do comparatively little damage to an advancing force. It was resolved to try this plan.

Once again, then, the bugles rang out for attack, and the Japanese threw themselves with desperate bravery upon the Russian entrenchments. The wire entanglements gave as much difficulty as ever, and the slopes of the hill were one blinding sheet of flame; but still the Japanese pressed forward, climbing over their own dead and working their way gradually through the obstacles placed in their path. By a piece of good fortune the electric wires connected with a large mine field were discovered just in time and cut, and thus a dreadful disaster was averted. But brilliant as was the dash of the 1st and 3rd Divisions on the Russian right, the defence of the Czar's troops was stubborn and hardly contested, and it was not till the 4th Division on the extreme left had carried through their flanking operation that the issue of the day was put beyond doubt. Here the gunboats in the bay rendered invaluable service. They steamed close in and poured in a heavy fire upon the Russian batteries, covering the advance of the infantry through the shallows. In this gallant operation the commander of the Chiokai, Captain Hayashi, was killed, and several other casualties were sustained by the crews engaged. But the work was accomplished. Climbing the hill like cats, the Japanese soldiery broke through the entanglements in face of a galling fire and rushed the trenches, bayonetting the defenders where they stood. Nothing could stop that mad onslaught, and after a fierce hand-to-hand conflict on the summit the flag of the Rising Sun floated triumphantly over the position which the Russians had so fondly, and indeed so naturally, deemed to be impregnable.

General Stoessel, finding that there was no use in continuing the sanguinary conflict now that his flank was turned, ordered a general retreat. The Japanese, however, in spite of the tremendous fatigues to which they had already been subjected since dawn, fiercely pursued their retiring enemy, with the result that the Russians found it impossible to make a stand at their second line of defence at Nankuenling, and were compelled to flee as far as the immediate neighborhood of Port Arthur itself.

The moral effect of this great victory of the Japanese was tremendous. The Russians, and with them a great many Continental critics, had attempted to minimize the importance of the battle of the Yalu. The Japanese, they said, were in overwhelming numbers, the position was one that could be easily turned, and General Sassulitch ought never to have tried to stand his ground. But such criticisms were silenced by Kinchau. The little Japs were seen to be equal, if not superior, man for man, to their Russian opponents, and the fierce, almost fanatical, fervor of their patriotism proved a factor in the struggle the importance of which few people had properly estimated. It was felt at once by military men in Europe, that if 12,000 Russians, armed with heavy guns, could not hold such a post as that of Nanshan against the onslaught of the Japanese, the fall of Port Arthur itself, provided there were no effective diversion from the north, was merely a question of time.

Nor were the material fruits of General Oku's success less striking. His losses in personnel, of course, were heavy, amounting to 133 officers, and 4,062 non-commissioned officers and men killed and wounded. The casualties of the defenders were naturally not so great, but over 500 Russians were left dead upon the field, and it is estimated that their total losses in killed and wounded must have numbered over 2,000. Sixty-eight pieces of artillery and ten machine-guns fell into the hands of the victors.

Four days afterwards the Japanese entered Dalny and occupied that important station. With the exception of the great pier, all those enormous works upon which the Russians had been expending vast sums for years were found to be intact, and the invaders were able henceforth to use the port as an invaluable base for their operations against Port Arthur.

This series of disasters caused the greatest alarm in St. Petersburg. The seriousness of the danger that threatened Port Arthur was realized in all its fulness at last, and the lofty assurance which had hitherto reigned supreme among the Imperial entourage gave place to feelings of panic. The result was that desperate measures were embarked upon which only led to fresh misfortunes. General Kuropatkin himself had seen from the first the impossibility of relieving Port Arthur from the north until he had a larger force at his disposal than he was likely to secure for months to come. His plan had always been to concentrate his main army at Liao-yang, or, if necessary, at Mukden, and wait till the arrival of large reinforcements enabled him to advance against the Japanese with some hope of success. If the Commander-in-Chief had been left to himself it is possible that this plan would have been pursued consistently and a great debacle might have been avoided. Port Arthur, indeed, would have been almost certain to fall, but in the opinion of nearly every strategist who had studied the problem, nothing short of a miracle could now save the so-called Gibraltar of the East. The only sound policy for the Russians was one of retirement and concentration until a more favorable opportunity presented itself. But now the Evil Genius of Russia interposed with his fatal counsels. To Admiral Alexeieff it was unthinkable that Port Arthur, at which for so long he had held his haughty Viceregal state, should be abandoned without a mighty effort. Ever since the arrival of General Kuropatkin in Manchuria had reduced him to a position of comparative inferiority, he had been intriguing against that commander with varying success, but on this occasion he received powerful backing amongst the Czar's advisers in St. Petersburg. The heaviest pressure was brought to bear upon General Kuropatkin to induce him to dispatch a strong force southwards to the relief of Port Arthur, and in an evil hour for his country and his own reputation the Commander-in-Chief weakly consented to be overruled. Lieut.-General Baron Stackelberg, the commander of the 1st Army Corps, with an army 35,000 strong was ordered to advance by forced marches into the Liao-tung Peninsula and lead a forlorn hope to save the doomed fortress.

The folly of this course is obvious to the veriest tyro in military science. Kuropatkin's line was already too far extended for safety. On his left flank, creeping gradually closer and working round to the northeast to effect a wide turning movement, was General Kuroki, with the 1st Army; General Nodzu, with the 3rd Army, was advancing from Takushan in the direction of Kaichau; while in the extreme south General Oku, having received large reinforcements, was able to hold Port Arthur securely invested and to march northwards with forces numbering 60,000 men, flushed with recent victory. The southward march of Baron Stackelberg, therefore, was doomed to disaster from the first. Not only was it highly improbable that he would ever succeed in getting through to Port Arthur, but in case he had to retreat, he ran a grave risk of being cut off by General Nodzu, and imperilling the position of General Kuropatkin himself. This was exactly what happened in actual fact.

The ill-fated expedition, after some preliminary skirmishing, met General Oku's main body at Wafangkau or Telissu on the 15th of June. Telissu is a village situated to the east of the railway line about 20 miles north of Port Adams. Nothing could better prove the superiority of the Japanese over the Russians in the matter of tactics than the dispositions which were made for this battle by Oku and Stackelberg respectively. Kuropatkin's lieutenant fought in the old-fashioned style, with his men closely packed together over a narrow front. The Japanese, on the other hand, advanced in an open formation over a widely extended area. At dawn General Oku ordered his troops to attack. They advanced in two columns, the main body proceeding along the railway line against the enemy's centre and right, while a second and more mobile force worked round to the west to turn Stackelberg's right flank. The Russians threw themselves fiercely upon the Japanese right and centre, and for some hours the battle was hotly contested. But in the meantime the turning movement to the west was proceeding with entire success. Before he realized the imminence of the danger, Stackelberg found that his right flank was driven in, and that his rear was threatened. He withdrew troops from his left and centre to meet this new danger; but it was too late, and he merely weakened his position in one part of the field without strengthening it in another. From three sides the Japanese now pressed their attack home, gradually encircling the Russians with a ring of fire. The terrible effectiveness of Oku's artillery was borne witness to afterwards by the Russians themselves. Their positions were heaped with dead. General Stackelberg in his dispatch describing the battle said that the 3rd and 4th batteries of the 1st Artillery Brigade were literally cut to pieces by the Japanese shells, and thirteen out of sixteen guns were rendered completely useless. A large number of officers were killed, and among the wounded was Major-General Gerngross. In spite of this tremendous pounding the Russians held their ground with great gallantry; but, as the Japanese attack developed, General Stackelberg saw that if he maintained his position much longer, he would be altogether surrounded. Therefore, just in the nick of time, he ordered a retreat. Slowly and painfully the retirement was conducted over difficult, mountainous country. The Japanese, exhausted by forced marches and two days' fighting, were unable to cut off Stackelberg's escape entirely, but they inflicted terrible losses on his retreating troops, and he only succeeded in reaching Kaichau some days afterwards with a shattered remnant of his force. The Japanese casualties in this great battle were not more than 1,000. On the other hand, upwards of 2,000 Russians were found dead upon the field and buried by the victors, and the total losses sustained by General Stackelberg's army, including prisoners taken, amounted to about 10,000. Large numbers of guns and regimental colors were captured.

Thus ended this ill-advised attempt to relieve Port Arthur. Henceforth all hopes of succor from the north had to be abandoned. In fact, General Kuropatkin, instead of being able to render assistance to the beleaguered garrison, was himself threatened with irremediable disaster, largely in consequence of this ill-fated operation. And now for upwards of two months almost complete darkness fell upon the tragedy that was being enacted round the doomed fortress. Rumors reached the outer world from time to time of the sanguinary combats by which the besiegers slowly fought their way nearer and nearer to the heart of the stronghold; but rumors they remained; and the Japanese, true to their policy of silence while important events were in progress, allowed no authentic news to percolate through the censorship. At last, however, the veil was partially lifted. When in the early days of August the Russian fleet, threatened with ignoble destruction by the fire of the rapidly approaching batteries of the Japanese, made an unsuccessful dash for freedom, it was recognized on all hands that the end was near.

Secrecy of Japanese Strategy—The Geographical Position—Kuropatkin's Essential Weakness—Rain Stops Carnage—Oku Rolls up the Russians—Field-Marshal Oyama—Keller's Failure—10th Regiment Ambushed—Desperate Courage against Overwhelming Odds—Kuroki again on the Offensive—Capture of Niuchwang—The Bloodiest Fight so Far—The Death of Count Keller—Kuropatkin's Heavy Loss—Concentration at Liao-yang—Kuropatkin's Urgent Motives—Oyama's Great Resources—Twelve Days' Battle—The Great Armies in Touch—Frightful Scene of Carnage—Costly but Indecisive.

The signal defeat of the Russian army under General Stackelberg at Telissu on the 15th June cleared the way for an advance northwards by General Oku's army. It was one of the consequences of the secrecy which attended the Japanese strategy from first to last that until this moment General Oku's real objective was not guessed either by foreign observers or even by the Russians themselves. The general impression was, naturally, that the Second Army was destined for the tremendous task of storming Port Arthur, but a much larger conception of the campaign was present to the minds of the strategists at Tokio. Fresh troops in large numbers were poured into the Liao-tung Peninsula, and these, under the command of General Nogi were concentrated round Port Arthur, while the main body of the Second Army was pushed northwards to act in co-operation with the First Army of General Kuroki and the Third Army commanded by General Nodzu, which, it will be remembered, had by this time landed at Takushan and was being gradually directed upon Haicheng. As soon, therefore, as his forces had been restored after their tremendous exertions at Telissu, General Oku set out with all possible rapidity along the line of railway towards Kaiping. And now Kuroki's long wait at Feng-hwang-cheng came to an end. It had, however, been well utilized. Not only had it enabled the conqueror of the Yalu to concentrate an army of upwards of 100,000 men, but in the interval his engineers had been employed in constructing defences, of a semi-permanent character, which, in the event of a subsequent retreat being rendered necessary, would make the position almost impregnable against Russian attack. But on the 23rd June General Kuroki broke camp, and, leaving behind him only a rear guard, took the first step in that great series of operations which, as they advanced northwards, stained the fertile plains of Southern Manchuria with the blood of Japanese and Muscovite alike and culminated around Liao-yang and Mukden in the most terrific and sanguinary conflicts experienced in the annals of war since the great struggle between the Northern and Southern States.

The key to the valley of the Liao River, it will be remembered, lies in the three passes of Motienling, Taling, and Fenshuiling; and these were all held in force by the Russians. The first of them stands on the main road leading from Feng-hwang-cheng to Liao-yang; the second (which must not be confused with the pass of the same name situated north of the Taitse River at about 60 miles to the east of Liao-yang) commands the road between Feng-hwang-cheng and Haicheng; and the third is on the road from Siuyen to Tashichao and is about 20 miles southeast from the latter place. The situation of the most important posts along the railway from Mukden to Kaiping has already been indicated, but for the sake of clearness it may be repeated that Liao-yang, where General Kuropatkin had concentrated his main army, stands about 40 miles south of Mukden; that 30 miles further south again is situated Haicheng; and that an interval of 30 miles more separates that town from Kaiping, or Kaichau, as it is sometimes called, Tashichao lying half-way between.

General Nodzu's troops were now for the first time brought into action, and operated in unison with General Kuroki's army in the attack upon the passes. A combination of most skilful movements made them masters of these important defiles within a few days of one another. In each case the tactics were the same. A frontal attack was pushed forward by one division, while strong bodies were sent round both to the right and left, and, securing ground from which they could enfilade the Russian trenches, rendered the position untenable by the defending force. General surprise was felt at the ineffective stand made here by General Kuropatkin's troops, especially as they had spent at least three months in building entrenchments, protected by wire entanglements and all the accessories of modern scientific warfare. The fact was, however, that the essential weakness of Kuropatkin's army in point of numbers compared with its opponents was now made disastrously apparent, and in spite of the natural and artificial strength of these passes, he could not prevent the superior force which the Japanese invariably contrived to bring against him at any given point from turning his flanks. Both the Taling Pass and the Motienling Pass, at the latter of which General Count Keller, who had superseded General Sassulitch in his command, directed the Russian operations, fell an easy prey to Kuroki's manœuvres; but at Fenshuiling General Nodzu met with fierce opposition. The defile was defended by fourteen battalions of infantry and three regiments of cavalry, supported by thirty guns, and a severe engagement took place, lasting for six hours. It was apparent that the strength of the Russian entrenchments was such that a direct attack would involve an enormous sacrifice of life; but after brilliant tactics, carried out during the night of the 26th June and the early morning of the 27th, the Japanese outflanked their enemy and drove them back in full retreat down the road to Simucheng, leaving ninety dead upon the field and losing eighty-eight prisoners, including six officers. On the same day a force of three battalions with sixteen guns made a desperate effort to recapture the position, but they were hurled back with heavy loss, and the pass remained irrevocably in the hands of the Japanese.

At this stage in the advance further progress was delayed for a few days by an agency which at frequent intervals during the campaign rose superior to the fiercest energy on the part of either combatant. The weather, which renders war in Manchuria practically impossible in winter, succeeds in giving it an intermittent character even in summer, and now heavy rains brought the operations to a temporary standstill. The Japanese who were on the high ground overlooking the valleys did not suffer so much from the torrential downpour, but the Russians in the plains had to bear its full force, and all movements by any arm of the service were rendered impossible by a sea of mud. By the 4th of July, however, the rains had stopped, and on that day a sharp fight took place at Motien-ling. During a dense fog at dawn, two battalions of the Russians attacked the Japanese outposts and endeavored to force the position. But Kuroki's soldiers were not to be surprised, and reinforcements were hurried up with all speed. Severe hand-to-hand fighting took place; but, finally, after three onslaughts by the Russians, the Japanese hurled them back in rout and pursued them for a distance of four miles to the westward.

AFTER FIVE MONTHS.

Following the railway northwards Oku came into touch with the retreating Russians on June 15, and inflicted upon them a crushing defeat at the battle of Telissu. His advance was not again opposed until he reached Kaiping, which he captured after some fighting on July 9. Meanwhile the armies under Kuroki and Nodzu had been advancing steadily, and the Mo-tien and Fen-shui Passes, commanding the roads to Liaoyang and Haicheng, were captured simultaneously. During this month the siege of Port Arthur began on land.

The shaded portion shows the Japanese advance.

Two days later General Oku took up the running for the Japanese, and started to roll up the Russian forces from the south. Moving out from Erh-tau-ho-tse, which is 12 miles south of Kaiping, he marched upon that town along the road westwards of the railway, driving the enemy's outposts before him. By noon on the 9th he had forced the Russians, who were under General Zarubaieff, Commander of the Fourth Siberian Army Corps, back upon their main position at Kaiping itself, and here it appeared that General Kuropatkin had ordered a stand to be made. Upwards of 30,000 men, with numerous guns, were in the neighborhood at the disposal of Zarubaieff and Oku prepared for a stout resistance. But as a matter of fact the opposition offered to him turned out to be comparatively feeble. After an artillery duel lasting for four hours his troops advanced and seized the heights extending from Haishan-chai on the west to Shwangtingshan on the east, from both of which eminences they could command Kaiping. Reinforcements had been hurried up from the Russian rear, but they were soon ordered northward again, and the whole body evacuated the town under cover of heavy gun fire on the afternoon of the same day. The cause of this ineffectual resistance on the part of Zarubaieff was the advance of the Third Army of Japan from Fenshuiling, which acted in co-ordination throughout with General Oku's columns, and threatened to outflank the Russians. To avoid a great disaster General Zarubaieff was compelled to retreat, and as a consequence of this skilful manœuvring, General Oku was enabled to occupy the important position of Kaiping with a loss which was almost negligible, another big step being thus gained in the progress northwards.

On the very day which Oku began his advance on Kaiping there occurred an event which brought strikingly before the world the fact that these movements by the three Japanese generals were only part of one great concerted plan, the vastness of which was not yet realized. This was the departure from Tokio for the seat of war of Field-Marshal Marquis Oyama, the master-mind selected by the Mikado for the supreme command of all his armies in the field. A brief description of the career of this great general, whose renown in Japan is second only to that of the veteran Yamagata, will not be out of place here. Like so many of the Japanese leaders who have distinguished themselves in the present war, Oyama's first experience of fighting was gained in the old days of the Sumatsu rebellion, in which he took part on the revolutionary side, achieving considerable distinction for his gallantry. After peace had placed the Mikado securely upon the throne of Japan, Oyama was sent to Prussia as military attaché, and was present at Moltke's headquarters at all the most important operations of the Franco-German War. There he, no doubt, gained many of the valuable lessons which have since been put in force both in the Chinese War ten years ago and in the present campaign. After the Peace of Versailles he devoted himself to a close study of the military organizations of France and Switzerland, and returning to his own country in 1875 received an appointment on the General Staff in Tokio. He was selected for the command of the First Army on the outbreak of the war with China in 1894, and directed the operations around Port Arthur, which culminated in the storming of that powerful fortress. On the retirement of Marshal Yamagata from ill-health, General Oyama was appointed to the chief command of all the Japanese forces in the field, and carried the campaign to a successful conclusion. After the signature of the Treaty of Peace the Mikado recognized his great services by conferring upon him the baton of Field-Marshal and appointing him Chief of the Staff. In the meanwhile, General Oku was preparing for his further advance northwards, where the next obstacle in his path was the Russian position at Tashichao. This town had been converted into a place of great strength and was garrisoned by at least 60,000 men with 105 guns. But before the opposing forces could meet here a fresh attack of a much more determined character than the last was made upon the Japanese army at Motienling, the Russians, under the command of Kuropatkin's most trusted lieutenant, General Count Keller, making a desperate attempt to regain possession of that important defile. This was the first occasion on which Kuropatkin's troops seriously assumed the offensive in the course of the war, and the result was a conspicuous success once more for the Japanese.

The Russian Commander-in-Chief entrusted two divisions to Count Keller for the purpose of the attack, and that General made dispositions for a frontal attack along the main road from Tawan, simultaneously, with movements against both of the Japanese flanks. For the main operation one division was employed, and the other was divided into two bodies, the first marching from Anping upon Hsimatang, where the outposts on Kuroki's right were stationed; and the second pushing forward from Tienshuitien along the paths which lead through the hills to the south of Motienling, where the Japanese left wing was posted. This scheme of advance might have had some success if all the parts of the machine had worked together with complete smoothness, but in the actual event the movements of the several columns were badly co-ordinated, and they came into action at different times.

The frontal attack began at 3 a. m., when, under cover of a dense fog, Keller's two leading battalions fell upon the Japanese outpost upon the main road some distance to the west of the pass. Notwithstanding the shock of the surprise and the formidable disparity of numbers, Kuroki's troops held their ground with the utmost gallantry. The foremost files of the 10th Siberian Regiment became engaged almost at once in a hand-to-hand combat with a small body of about thirty or forty Japanese. Several of the latter were bayonetted before they realized that the enemy was upon them, but the survivors, taking refuge among some Chinese cottages, made a desperate resistance with rifle and cold steel. The din and the crack of musketry aroused some companies who were bivouacking in the neighboring trenches, and they quickly rushed to the support of their comrades. One company, taking up a position in an adjacent temple, poured in a murderous fire upon the Russians, and another stationed itself on a hill on the opposite side and joined in the deadly fusillade. Thus the 10th Regiment, instead of successfully surprising its foe, found itself in turn surprised in an ambush, and after a hot engagement was compelled to retreat back upon its main body. It was five o'clock before the Russians could bring up a sufficient force to drive in the Japanese outposts, by which time the gallant stand made by these few companies had enabled Kuroki's troops entrenched at the Motien Pass itself to prepare fully for the onslaught that awaited them. When Keller's soldiery, therefore, came within range of the Japanese lines, they were met by a heavy fire both from infantry and artillery. Two hours more elapsed before they were properly disposed for the attack, and then, although they consisted of a whole division of 12,000 men, and were opposed by a force of no more than 4,000, their tactics proved quite ineffective, and they could not succeed in the slightest degree in shaking the hold upon the defile which their enemy had gained.

The fire which was directed upon them from the Japanese lines was especially galling upon their left wing, and here, shortly before eleven o'clock, they began to give way, and ere long the whole force fell back in retreat. Their active enemy then sprang forward to the attack themselves and attempted to push the repulse home, but a strong rear guard held them in check, and prevented the reverse from becoming a rout. It afterwards became apparent that the reason for this retreat on the part of Count Keller's main body was the complete failure of the flanking movements which he had presumably intended to be conducted simultaneously.

But the attack upon their outposts upon the main road at three in the morning had put the whole Japanese army upon the qui vive, and both on the right and the left flanks preparations were made to meet such a manœuvre as the Russian General had in view. On the left wing, as no enemy had appeared in sight by five o'clock, a company of the Japanese pushed forward towards Makumenza to wait for their approach. There it fell in with a Russian battalion and engaged it at once in a hot conflict. A second battalion came to the aid of the first, and for a time the little force of Japanese was in danger of being annihilated, but reinforcements quickly arrived, and though they were still numerically weaker than the Russians, they drove them back with heavy loss, and occupied the heights which commanded the approach from this point, completing the confusion of the enemy by directing a galling fire upon the main body which was now in full retreat along the road to Tawan. On the right flank the struggle was more obstinate and sanguinary. When the attack began at eight o'clock the Japanese were greatly outnumbered, and for a time one company had to hold its own against the onslaught of a whole battalion of the Russians, supported by a troop of cavalry. In the deadly conflict which ensued, every one of the Japanese officers fell upon the field, but notwithstanding their terrible losses the little band fought on with desperate courage against the overwhelming odds. The arrival of another Russian battalion seemed to threaten their complete destruction, but, fortunately, before long reinforcements were hurried up to the spot and the contest became more even. After a severe conflict, lasting for eight and a half hours, the Russians at length gave up the attempt to force the Japanese lines as hopeless, and fell back broken and defeated.

Thus at every point this attack, from which General Kuropatkin had hoped for so much, failed completely, and the superiority of the Japanese soldiery over their opponents was once more strikingly manifested. Kuroki's casualties amounted to about 300 killed and wounded, but the affair was much more expensive to the Russians, General Keller putting his losses at over 1,000 men.

Immediately following upon this success, General Kuroki once again assumed the offensive and captured the position of Hsihoyen, practically the last stronghold occupied by the Russians on the high ground overlooking the plains of the Liao River. This success was the work of the Twelfth Division, that division which, it will be remembered, decided the battle of the Yalu by its flank attack on General Kashtalinsky's left. It now covered itself with fresh glory under its skilful commander, General Nishi. The same tactics as had been adopted in all these operations against the strongly entrenched positions of the Russians were once more employed. The enemy were kept busy with a frontal attack while a column marched around their right flank and rendered their carefully prepared stronghold untenable. A general advance was then made, and the Russians were driven back upon Anping in complete rout with more than 1,000 casualties. The Japanese killed and wounded amounted only to half that number.

On the 24th of July, Oku resumed his advance northwards and attacked the powerful Russian position at Tashichao. The skilful handling of Zarubaieff's large force of artillery made it impossible for the Japanese to carry the trenches by daylight, but, waiting till nightfall, they made a fresh onslaught under the beams of a full moon. Point after point fell into their hands, and next morning General Zarubaieff, feeling the hopelessness of continuing the defence, especially in view of a fresh movement by General Nodzu's army which threatened his left, decided to retreat. This unexpectedly easy victory was gained by the Japanese at the expense of about 1,000 casualties; but the Russians lost twice that number of men, and among the wounded were two officers of high rank, Generals Kondratovitch and Skaloff. Two days later a detachment of Oku's army entered Yinkow, the port of Niuchwang—a highly important prize, for it provided the invaders with a new and most valuable base for the advance from the south.

On July 31st the advance was resumed all along the line of the extended front of the Japanese, and each of the three armies was hotly engaged. Oku's steady march along the line of the railway drove the retreating enemy into Haicheng. On the right, at Tomucheng, a more sanguinary battle took place between General Nodzu's army and two divisions of Russian infantry, supported by seven batteries of artillery, under the command of General Alexeieff. The Russians occupied a strongly entrenched position on the hills to the north of Tomucheng, the work of fortification having occupied several months. But the result was the same here as in every quarter of the theatre of war. The two armies were locked together in a deadly struggle for nearly the whole of a scorching day, until the Japanese left wing, attacking with desperate bravery, carried the heights opposite to them and threatened the rear of the Russian centre. During the night, therefore, General Alexeieff fell back, leaving more than 150 dead upon the field and abandoning six guns, which fell into the hands of the enemy. The result of these combined operations of the Second and Third Armies was that Haicheng was occupied on August 3rd, and Niuchwang—which must be distinguished from the port of the same name—also fell into Oku's grasp.

It was in the north, however, with the Japanese First Army that the bloodiest fighting ensued, and that the Russians met with the most signal defeat. On July 31st Kuroki's right wing held Kushulintzu, 4 miles to the west of Hsihoyen, and his centre occupied Yangtzuling, 6 miles to the west of Motienling, both places being situated about 25 miles from Liao-yang. Opposite to Kushulintzu the Russians, who held a very strong position on the high ground, consisted of two divisions of infantry with well-placed artillery. The attack began at dawn and continued all day. The Japanese infantry advanced gradually across the open valley undeterred by the murderous fire poured upon them from the Russian batteries, and threw themselves recklessly upon the enemy's redoubts. It was on the wings that the Russian defence was the weakest, and here, by sunset, the impetuous onslaught of the Mikado's troops carried all before it, nightfall finding them in possession of some of the most important heights. But the strength of the Russian centre was too great to be forced easily, and the Japanese therefore bivouacked on the field, and waited till daybreak to resume the attack. With the first rays of dawn they were ready once more for the fray, and again the hills resounded with the roar of artillery. For several hours the battle raged, the Russians making a most obstinate defence, but as the Japanese captured height after height the enemy could stand their ground no longer, and by noon they broke and fled westwards, leaving several field guns behind in the victor's hands.

AFTER SIX MONTHS.

Kuroki and Nodzu now called a halt to enable Oku to come into line with them. The latter, working his way steadily northwards, drove the Russians out of Tashichiao after three days' severe fighting. Newchwang was occupied on July 25, and Nodzu, having advanced his forces to Si-mu-cheng and driven out the Russians on July 30, the two generals joined forces and marched on Haicheng, which they occupied on August 2. A general assault was delivered on Port Arthur on July 26, and a few days later the Japanese captured Wolf Hill, Green Hill, and Takushan.

The shaded portion shows the Japanese advance.

At Yangtzuling the conflict was even more severe. The Russian force here consisted of two and a half divisions, with four batteries of artillery, and General Count Keller commanded in person. It was destined to be that gallant but unfortunate officer's last fight, for he fell mortally wounded in the course of the second day's operations. The Japanese plan of attack was very much the same as in the case of Kushulintzu. In spite of the tropical sun, whose rays beat upon their heads without protection, their advance was irresistible, and throwing themselves upon the enemy with a fierce elan, which carried all before it, they captured some of the principal positions by the close of the day. Here again, however, a numerous body of Russians held out in the centre against the most desperate attacks, and the Japanese were therefore compelled to bivouac on the field for the night and resume the conflict on the succeeding day. The dawn opened with a terrific artillery duel between the opposing batteries, and all the morning the guns belched forth flame and death. It was in the course of this tremendous bombardment that Count Keller met with his death. He was a man of reckless courage, and he insisted on taking his stand to direct the operations in a battery which was most heavily exposed to the fire of Kuroki's guns. So fiercely did the shells fall all around that his staff represented to him that he must be the object himself of the enemy's cannonade, but he refused to retire to a less exposed position. He had hardly dismounted from his horse when a shrapnel shell burst within a few paces from him and hurled him to the ground. A sergeant rushed up to him to raise him in his arms, but the general motioned him away and expired a few moments afterwards. His wounds were of the most terrible nature. Two fragments of shell struck him upon the head and three others in the chest, and he had thirty-one shrapnel bullet wounds in different parts of his body. The death of their commander threw the Russians into final confusion, and they retreated in haste, leaving a number of field guns in Kuroki's possession.

The loss of Count Keller was a particularly heavy blow to Kuropatkin, for he was the most trusted of all his subordinates and was most deeply in the confidence of the Commander-in-Chief. His experience, too, of war was gained in the Russo-Turkish campaign, on the staff of the same famous leader, Skobeleff, and he actually succeeded Kuropatkin as Aide-de-Camp to that General when the present Commander-in-Chief was wounded at the Shipka Pass in 1877. Besides the signal misfortune he sustained by the death of this distinguished officer, General Kuropatkin had to add to his already heavy casualty list a further loss of 2,000 officers and men. It was an even more significant and discouraging fact, however, that among the troops opposed to the victorious Kuroki on this occasion were the most recent accessions to the Russian army, the 10th and 17th Corps. These forces, which came from European Russia and were greatly superior to the Siberian soldiery both in physique and discipline, had been counted upon to do much to stem the tide of disaster, but though they made a better appearance than the troops which had been in action previously, all their prowess was unavailing against the impetuous patriotism of the Japanese, who had by this time proved themselves to be among the finest infantry in the whole world.

It now became plain to Kuropatkin that the Japanese could not be stopped before Liao-yang itself was reached. He therefore concentrated all his available forces at that powerful and highly fortified position in preparation for a great pitched battle. During the months which had elapsed since the arrival of the Russian Commander-in-Chief at the seat of war, Liao-yang had been turned into a great place of arms. Its great natural defensive advantages had been skilfully improved upon. Every inch of suitable ground had been carefully fortified, and there can be little doubt from the character of the dispositions which had been made that Kuropatkin hoped to be able not only to make a stand here, but to hurl back the armies of the Mikado in disorder, save Southern Manchuria for the Czar, and perhaps even march forward afterwards to the relief of the beleaguered fortress of Port Arthur.

His armies, indeed, had been tragically reduced in numbers in every combat that had yet taken place. The arrival of the Tenth and Seventeenth Army Corps had put him in a better position; but against this had to be set the loss of nearly 30,000 men killed or wounded since the battle of the Yalu proved the magnitude of the task which lay before him. Yet he now possessed a force of about 132,000 men, with 400 guns, and he held a position of enormous strength. All of his troops, indeed, had tasted the bitterness and discouragement of defeat in the course of the fifteen engagements which had taken place since the outbreak of the war, but he himself had not yet been present in person upon the field of battle, and he might well hope that the failure which had attended all the efforts of his lieutenants would give place to victory when he took the direction of affairs into his own hands.

At all events, whatever the issue of the battle might be, there could be no doubt that a retreat from Liao-yang without fighting was for every reason impossible. The Court of St. Petersburg had already been rendered restive by the continual withdrawal of the main body of Muscovite armies to the north; his enemies were busy with their detractions; and the irrepressible Alexeieff was always near to make capital out of the difficulties, and to distort and misrepresent the actions of his abler rival. But beyond all these personal reasons, powerful enough in themselves in the eyes of a man holding such a position as Kuropatkin, there were more worthy considerations which weighed heavily in the scale in favor of boldly submitting his fortunes to the cast of the die and risking all in one mighty struggle. The honor of the Russian arms and the prestige of the Empire were at stake; a continued retreat without a supreme effort to roll back the tide of invasion was politically dangerous to a Dominion which owed its very existence in the East to the preservation of a haughty and determined front; and, more serious even than the growing restlessness of all those Oriental races who yield unwilling allegiance to the Little White Father, was the increasing discontent in Russia itself, and the uprising once more of the forbidding spectre of Nihilism and revolution. A pitched battle on a grand scale was, therefore, for every reason unavoidable, and, in spite of all the risks he ran, Kuropatkin faced the prospect before him with calm courage and resolution.

The state of things on the other side was very different. Here there was nothing to discourage, but everything to inspire hope. Field-Marshal Oyama, who had now reached the scene of operations, found at his disposal three great armies upon whose banners victory had consistently rested during a now prolonged campaign. The organization of the whole of the forces was perfect, and though it was now far from its base, its supplies were ample and constant. The natural difficulties of the advance were, indeed, great, but they were no greater than those which had already been triumphantly overcome. His chief lieutenants were men of tried capacity. The subordinate officers had proved their efficiency in tactics on many a hard-fought field, and the rank and file were inspired, not only with a rare intelligence, but with a fanatical patriotism, which made them, perhaps, the most formidable instruments of warfare the world has ever seen. And after all the inevitable losses of the past three months, he yet had under his command a total field force (exclusive of the army of 100,000 men engaged in besieging Port Arthur) of 220,000 men and 600 guns. It was plain that only the most desperate resistance on the part of the Russians could prevent the crowning mercy of a great victory, and already foreign critics were anticipating a Russian Sedan upon the banks of the Taitse River.

Torrential rains again delayed operations for upwards of three weeks, but by the 24th of August comparatively dry weather had set in, and on the 25th the general advance of the Japanese upon Liao-yang began. We now enter upon one of the most tremendous dramas ever known in military history—the twelve days' battle around Liao-yang. No fighting so fierce, so sustained, and so bloody has been experienced since the armies of Grant and Lee met in their great death grapple in the Wilderness in the Civil War. The terrible conflict raged for the most part simultaneously over an enormously extended front, and an adequate description can only be given by following in turn the fortunes of the separate Japanese armies. But for sake of clearness it will be well to attempt, first, a brief and comprehensive account of the main lines of the operations and their final result.

On the 25th Kuroki's army of three divisions advanced upon Anping, and, after desperate fighting, drove the Russians back from that place to Liao-yang. At the same time the Third Army under General Nodzu, manœuvring with Oku's forces on the left, turned the enemy out of their strong position at Anshanchan, situated about 15 miles to the south of Liao-yang. The advance of Oku was delayed considerably by the efforts of an enterprising rear guard left by Kuropatkin to cover the retreat, and by the thick mud, which made the roads almost impassable; but on the 29th both he and Nodzu came into touch with the enemy in their main position in front of Liao-yang. Here Kuropatkin held an entrenched front of about five miles, with three lines of defence formed by separate ranges of low hills, fortified with consummate skill.

To the Japanese, however, no obstacle seemed too great. After a prolonged artillery preparation, in which for the first time the Russians showed themselves equal, if not superior, to their opponents, the superb infantry of Dai Nippon were ordered to the attack. Then ensued the most frightful scene of carnage and heroic endurance. For five long days the splendid troops of Oku and Nodzu flung themselves upon a foe not less gallant than themselves, and time after time they were held back with broken ranks, leaving behind great heaps of dead. And when at last they did make their bloody passage into the town of Liao-yang, it was only to learn the mortifying intelligence that their enemy had escaped from the toils so carefully set for him, and that for a considerable time their tremendous struggle had been conducted, not with the main body of Kuropatkin's army, but with a rear guard.

For those incalculable factors which so often defeat the best laid schemes of strategy had come into play, and had seriously affected the success of the great move which Kuroki was endeavoring to carry out on the Japanese right. In this case they proved to be the weather, which had swollen the Taitse River into a flood, and a sudden display of great tactical ability by Kuropatkin, which his previous failures in the sphere of strategy had led no one to expect. Upon Kuroki, of course, as holding the most advanced position on the Japanese right, it depended to envelope the left flank of the Russians and cut off their retreat to the north. But, unfortunately for the success of Oyama's strategy, the river Taitse, which runs from east to west just north of Liao-yang, and which had to be crossed by the Japanese, was so flooded that a day or two elapsed before it could be forded, and it was not till the 31st that Kuroki's forces were able to take up a position on the opposite bank. It was hoped, however, that a rapid march to the northwest would place the commander of the First Army astride of the railway at Yentai, and that he would thus be able to cut off Kuropatkin's retreat and enclose him in another Sedan within a ring of steel. But the delay proved fatal, for it gave Kuropatkin time to rescue his army from the perilous position in which it was placed. With a skill which must always extort the admiration of military critics he withdrew the greater part of his forces across the river in the most perfect order, unknown to the Japanese, and massed them on his left flank. The consequence was that instead of finding a division, or at the most two divisions, opposed to him, Kuroki was faced by the greater part of the Russian Army, established in strong positions on a range of hills between himself and the railway line. It was a masterly piece of generalship on the part of the Russian Commander-in-Chief, and it saved the situation. Indeed, at one point it threatened Kuroki with destruction, for he was almost cut off from support, and for twenty-four hours both officers and men were without either drink or food except small rations of dried rice. But the extraordinary gallantry of the sons of Japan rose superior even to these conditions. Again and again they advanced to the attack against powerful positions held by superior numbers, and the salient point in the Russian defence, the hill of Haiyentai, was heaped with the dead of the heroic combatants. Despite every effort, however, Kuroki could not pierce the enemy's line, and it was not till a fine forced march by a division detached from General Nodzu's army arrived to reinforce him that he was able to reach the railway after four days of tremendous combat. But by that time it was too late. The skilful dispositions made by the Russian General had pulled the bulk of his force out of the trap, and they were in full retreat upon Mukden. It would be difficult to describe the horrors of that retreat, but the Japanese were too exhausted to make as effective a pursuit as they would otherwise have done, and the Russians managed to get away without losing a single piece of artillery. The losses in this tremendous battle, or rather series of battles, were enormous. The Japanese official account places their casualties at 17,539, but, if we are to believe the correspondents, that is an understatement. The exact Russian losses, including those incurred during the retreat, are placed by some authorities at 25,000, by others as high as 35,000. Unfortunately for the Japanese, all this costly expenditure of life was indecisive in its results, and left the main object of their strategy unfulfilled. Kuropatkin had been defeated, indeed, but he had not been routed, and it was apparent that the fighting would have to be resumed once more in the neighborhood of Mukden.

Investment of Port Arthur—Admiral Witoft's Sortie—Tremendous Naval Battle—Harbors of Refuge—International Complications—Insignificant Japanese Losses—The Last Raid from Vladivostock—The Port Arthur Garrison—Fury Unparalleled in History—Kuroki Improves his Reputation—The Grim Reality of War.

While the victorious armies of Oku, Kuroki, and Nodzu were pressing northward towards Liao-yang, driving before them the only force from which the beleaguered garrison of Port Arthur could look for relief, the siege of Russia's "impregnable fortress" proceeded with unabated determination and constantly increasing vigor. It was on June 26th that the general advance on Port Arthur began; and from that date the lines of investment were steadily drawn closer and closer. Siege trains were landed at Dalny as well as large reinforcements, but for nearly a month complete silence as to the progress of events was maintained at Tokio. From time to time sensational and contradictory reports of desperate fighting were received from Chifu, where Chinese refugees landed in a constant stream; and authentic messages from General Stoessel, the heroic commander of the fortress's garrison, reached the outer world at intervals through the medium of a wireless telegraphy installation at the Russian Consulate in Chifu. Naturally, these messages were of a reassuring character, and generally recorded some repulse of the Japanese army of investment; but though no word of contradiction was uttered at Tokio, the world was hardly inclined to accept the Russian stories at their face value. When, for example, in a triumphant message, General Stoessel reported that a grand assault on the Russian defences had taken place on July 26th, 27th, and 28th, and had been repulsed at all points, with great slaughter, cautious observers of events waited for confirmation of the news; although the Czar himself hastened to dispatch to his gallant representative in Port Arthur a telegram of warm congratulation and praise. Hesitation was justified by the event; for two days after their alleged decisive repulse they captured the dominant position of Wolf Hill, and thereby made the first important breach in the defences of Port Arthur. Wolf Hill is an eminence half a mile south of the village of Suei-ze-ying, which is some three and a half miles along the railway line running due north from Port Arthur. The importance of the captured position for the Japanese was that it enabled siege guns to command, within easily effective range, the anchorage of the Russian squadron on the inside of the Tiger's Tail. This meant, of course, either that the fleet must go to sea and fight, or must endure impotently the hammering of the 12in. shells which soon began to drop from the batteries on Wolf's Hill. Within a week of the capture of the position, the Japanese had mounted their siege guns; and after a bombardment of two days, the Russian decision was taken to attempt another sortie. The last sortie, it will be remembered, took place on June 23rd, and ended in the inglorious return of the whole fleet; as the Russian Admiral, in spite of the advantage which, as we now know, he possessed over his enemy in battle strength, did not dare to give battle. This decision which let slip one of the best opportunities that the Russian Pacific Squadron ever had of favorably modifying the naval situation in the Far East, was ill-received at St. Petersburg, where carefully planned dispositions were thus brought to nought; and as soon as the contemplation of another sortie became immediately necessary, the strictest injunctions were sent to Admiral Witoft as to his course of action.

The Czar emphatically ordered him on no account to return to Port Arthur. His object must be to inflict as much damage as possible on the enemy's fleet, and, if possible, to effect a junction with the Vladivostock Squadron; while, if the latter object were incapable of accomplishment, he was to endeavor to reach the German port of Kiau-chau. From circumstances that have since transpired, there is reason to believe that an understanding had been arrived at between the German and Russian Governments as to the reception of the Russian ships at the German naval base. Although for the moment the Russian fugitives would, by the laws of neutrality, be placed out of action, they would be in the hands of a "benevolent" government; and would remain a factor to be reckoned with, if in the future Germany were to intervene in the settlement of the struggle. Accordingly, on the morning of August 10th, the Russian Squadron, in full strength except for the armored-cruiser Bayan, which was in too injured a condition to take its place in the fighting line, began slowly to pass through the narrow channel leading from the open sea; and by eleven o'clock the ships were drawn up in battle line, and steamed away on a course nearly due south. The gallant little Novik, the fastest vessel in either fleet, headed the line, while the patched-up Retvisan came next, followed by the Czarevitch, the Peresveit, the Pobieda, the Poltava, and the Sevastopol, with the cruisers Askold, Diana, and Pallada, and a torpedo flotilla of eight vessels. The squadron of Japanese light cruisers which had been watching Port Arthur retreated before the advancing enemy, and signalled at once to the sleepless Togo, whose main battle fleet was lying forty miles away. This consisted of four battleships and three armored cruisers—namely, the Mikasa, carrying Admiral Togo's flag; the Asahi, the Shikishima, the Fuji, the Nishin, the Kasuga, the Jakumo, and a number of protected cruisers, including the Kasagi, the Chitose, the Takasugo, as well as a flotilla of some forty torpedo craft. Thus the Russians had a clear superiority in battleships partially discounted by Togo's superiority in armored cruisers.

Thirty-five miles to the southeast of Port Arthur the opposing fleets came within range; and then began the most tremendous naval battle—measured by the offensive power of its combatants—that the world has yet seen. The naval world had been waiting almost with eagerness for the present war to afford the spectacle of a fleet action between modern armorclads carrying modern armaments; and this unprecedented event had at last come to pass. The Russian ships were steering for the south, and the object of the Japanese was evidently to head them off. At a range of 6,000 yards, or about three miles and a half, the Mikasa, the Japanese flagship, opened fire with her 12in. guns on the leading Russian battleship and immediately the action became general. Admiral Togo concentrated his fire on the Russian battleships, leaving the cruisers very much to chance; and so awful was the effect of this deadly rain of shell, that when at last the sun went down on that eventful day, the Russian fleet was in hopeless disorder, and its stoutest ships were almost unmanageable wrecks. The experience of the Czarevitch and the Retvisan, as recounted by survivors on board of those devoted vessels, affords a lurid picture of the appalling nature of a modern naval battle. The Czarevitch, which ultimately reached Kiao-chau, was bombarded at close range by several of the Japanese armorclads. In the course of five minutes she was struck by three successive 12in. shells, and that fact—which is an eloquent testimony to the quality of the Japanese gunnery—practically decided her fate. Admiral Witoft was killed by the first shell, and his chief of staff was mortally wounded by the second. The steering gear was knocked to bits, so that the ship was out of control and began to travel in a circle, and the foremast was tumbled over the side; while every man in one of the batteries was blown to pieces. The guns' crews were annihilated at the work, and the deck gear was twisted into fantastic shapes or carried away altogether; and so much of it was afterwards picked up that the Japanese supposed that the Czarevitch had foundered. Poor Witoft—as brave a man as ever sailed—met a terrible death. He was blown to pieces by a shell, and of his body only one leg was ever found. His last signal was: "Remember the Emperor's order not to return to Port Arthur." The decks of the battleship presented the appearance of a shambles; her armor-plating was pierced in four places; her masts were shattered and bent in the form of a cross; her bridge was carried away; and many of her guns were disabled. Steering with her propellers she managed, under the cover of night, to escape the attacks of the Japanese torpedo-boats, and to reach Kiao-chau. Hardly less severe was the mauling which the Retvisan received. This battleship received such a concentrated fire that when she attempted to break from the circle of her enemies, she was literally blown out of her course. The other four Russian battleships suffered more or less severely. The Pobieda, for instance, had her masts carried away, and her heavy guns were put out of action. When the Czarevitch got out of control, the Russian line was necessarily broken, and then the fleet seems to have suffered most severely. The command of the squadron passed to Prince Ukhtomsky, as second in rank to Admiral Witoft, and that of the cruiser division to Rear-Admiral Reitzenstein; and between the two there seem to have been divided counsels. The latter decided to cut his way southwards at any cost in accordance with the orders of the Czar. With the Askold, Novik, Pallada, and Diana, he became engaged with the Japanese cruisers, and by dint of hard fighting, in which the Askold was badly mauled, he managed to get clear of the enemy, and in the early morning of the 13th reached Shanghai, having lost sight of the other cruisers. The Askold had lost two of her five funnels, one of the boilers was injured, and her hull had been pierced in more than half a dozen places, both above and below the water-line. Prince Ukhtomsky preferred another course. When the signal had been displayed from the Czarevitch "Admiral transfers command," the Prince, who was next in seniority, signalled from his ship, the Peresviet, "Follow me"—an order which, as we have seen, the cruiser division did not obey. But the battleships answered the signal; and the course steered was back to Port Arthur. In his dispatch the Prince said: "As my vessel had lost many killed and wounded, and her armament, hull and electric apparatus were seriously damaged, I decided to return to Port Arthur." Through the dark night the six battleships steamed slowly to their haven, repeated torpedo attacks compelling them again and again to change course, and finally to disperse. The Czarevitch, as we have seen, reached Kiao-chau almost in a sinking condition, while in the morning of the 11th, the Peresviet, the Retvisan, the Sevastopol, the Pobieda, the Poltava, and the cruiser Pallada arrived again at the port which they had left twenty-four hours earlier. A list of nearly 400 killed and wounded was the witness to the severity of the punishment which these vessels had received. But it was evident that they were not so damaged as to have been incapable of continuing the attempt to break through to the south. Their return to Port Arthur rendered all that they had suffered vain. It meant that their situation was as precarious as ever, while their condition was less favorable for enduring it. The displeasure of the Czar was not long in manifesting itself. Hardly had the consternation of defeat subsided, than an Imperial order was issued removing the unhappy Prince Ukhtomsky from his command. Recalled he could not be, because the means of leaving Port Arthur were denied.

It was some time before the full measure of Russia's disaster could be ascertained; for the movements of several of the dispersed vessels had been lost sight of. But at last all doubts were resolved. The Czarevitch and three destroyers reached Kiao-chau. The Askold and one destroyer found refuge at Shanghai. The Diana was able to make the French port of Saigon. Two destroyers went ashore near Wei-hai-wei and were abandoned; and one destroyer entered Chifu Harbor and was there seized by the Japanese and made a prize, in defiance of respect for a neutral port. The indomitable little Novik alone of all Russia's fleet attempted to make for Vladivostock. This swift cruiser had come out of the fight comparatively uninjured; and having put into Kiao-chau for coal, she steamed eastward again, and for some days was lost sight of. But the Japanese, though full of admiration for the exploits of the Novik, could not afford to let her escape, and they were on the watch for her appearance in the straits through which she must pass to reach Vladivostock. The cruisers Tsushima and Chitose had been searching the Soya Straits, which lie between Saghalien and Yezo, when at last the former vessel sighted the little Novik on the afternoon of the 20th of August in Korsakovsk Harbor. Immediately the attack began, and the Novik was soon compelled to retreat into the inner harbor, but not before she had inflicted such damage on the Tsushima as to compel her to draw off. Presently, however, the Chitose arrived, and next day completed the destruction of the Novik, whose crew abandoned her after running her on the beach. So ended the career of the one ship in the Russian Navy whose handling has consistently done credit to Russian seamanship.

The appearance of fugitive vessels of the Russian squadron in neutral ports at once raised international questions of no little anxiety and difficulty. The attitude of Germany in particular was jealously watched by the Japanese; but, fortunately, in this case the behavior of the neutral Power was perfectly correct. The Czarevitch and the three destroyers in Kiao-chau were at once ordered to be dismantled, and their crews sent home on parole. Equally prompt and unimpeachable was the action of the French Government in regard to the cruiser Diana; but the case of the Askold at Shanghai threatened to give much more trouble. It was aggravated, too, by the indefensible action of the Japanese in the case of the destroyer Rishitelni, which reached Chifu on the 11th, bearing important dispatches. The Japanese followed the Rishitelni, and believing that the Chinese would not be able to enforce the disarmament of the boat, and their demands for her immediate departure having been ignored, a Japanese officer and armed guard boarded her. A scuffle between the Japanese and the Russian crews followed; and in the result, in spite of the protests of the Chinese, the Rishitelni was towed out of the harbor, after an ineffectual attempt on the part of her crew had been made to blow her up. The act was certainly a violation of Chinese neutrality; but as the Rishitelni had remained in the harbor for twenty-seven hours without any sign of disarming, the Japanese had good reason to believe that the Russian commander was not particularly sensitive to the claims of China's neutrality; and how well this belief was founded appeared in the case of the Askold, which found refuge at Shanghai. In insolent defiance of all right and law, the commander of the Askold refused either to disarm his vessel or to leave the neutral port. The wretched Chinese authorities, squeezed on one side by the Russian Government and on the other by the Japanese, could do nothing. One day they issued peremptory orders for the Russian vessel to leave; and the next day they extended the period of grace. A grave international situation threatened; for the Japanese were impatient at the necessity of having to detain several of the much-needed cruisers in watching the port, and they threatened extreme measures; for all this time the Askold was being repaired and put into fighting trim again. But at last the British Minister interfered to stop the work of repairs; and then the Czar issued instructions that the Askold and the destroyer that accompanied her should be dismantled.

In winning this signal victory over the fleet of his enemy, Admiral Togo suffered but slight damage to the ships under his command. In spite of the heavy fighting at close range, none of the Japanese vessels were crippled—a circumstance of the utmost importance to Japan, who, unlike her enemy, has no second fleet to draw upon, and whose losses were therefore irreparable. The Mikasa, in which the brunt of the fighting fell, lost 32 killed and 78 wounded; the Yakumo, 12 killed and 10 wounded; the Nishin, 16 killed and 17 wounded; the Kasuga, 10 wounded; and the rest of the fleet a few wounded only. These casualties altogether were far exceeded by those endured on the Czarevitch or the Retvisan alone; and the difference can only be accounted for by the greater accuracy and efficiency of the Japanese gun fire. Of the fleet that left Port Arthur on the morning of the 10th of August, only a shattered remnant returned again—five battleships and two cruisers. But the sum of Russia's disasters had not been reached. It was fated that the Vladivostock squadron was to share the fate of the Port Arthur fleet.

So sudden had been Admiral Witoft's resolution to attempt a sortie, that no arrangements for concerted action with Admiral Skrydloff at Vladivostock had been made. It was the destroyer Rishitelni, whose arrival at Chifu caused such unpleasantness, that bore the message informing Skrydloff of what was happening. Fortunately for themselves the Japanese seized the Rishitelni too late to intercept that message. Skrydloff on the 12th steamed from Vladivostock with the cruisers Gromoboi, Rossia, and Rurik, and made straight for the Korean Straits. In the early morning of the 14th of August the Russian cruisers reached their old hunting-ground, and the critical point in their course—the narrow channel that separates the southernmost Japanese islands from the Korean promontory. In their successful raid during July the Vladivostock cruisers had reached the same point, and by good luck had evaded Kamimura's pursuit. The fortune of war had hitherto been all against the gallant Japanese Admiral, to whom had been committed the task of watching the Vladivostock squadron, and in particular, of guarding the Korean Straits. Even on this last decisive occasion that was to avenge his previous disappointments, he nearly missed his prey, who had got to southward of his fleet. But a timely glint of sunlight revealed the object of his long quest, and immediately putting his ships between the enemy and Vladivostock he was able to say with Cromwell at Dunbar: "The Lord hath delivered them into my hand". Kamimura had with him four armored cruisers of high speed and powerful armament—the Tokiwa, the Adzuma, the Idzumo, and the Iwate. The last two vessels were of 24 knots speed, and the slowest was of 21 knots. In gun power all the vessels were practically equal, and were much more heavily armed than the Russian cruisers, to which they now found themselves opposed. Of these the Gromoboi, a huge vessel of 12,336 tons displacement, was the latest and the most formidable. The Rossia was her equal in every respect except gun protection; but the Rurik was of another class altogether in a direction that proved fatal to her—namely, speed. Her engines were only capable of developing 18 knots, and that made her a terrible hindrance to the manœuvring power of the whole squadron. It was not until the Japanese had crossed the course of the Russians that the latter became aware of the presence of the enemy, and then they immediately put about and steered north. According to the report of the Russian Admiral, the fight began at half-past four in the morning a little north of the line between Fusan and Tsushima. The Russians attempted to make for the open sea northwards, but were headed off, mainly owing to the inferior steaming power of the Rurik, which was in the rear of the line. The Russians were in single column line ahead, while the Japanese steering across their course adopted the famous T-shaped formation which is associated with the name of Admiral Togo. The battle began at a range of five miles, and very soon the superior gunnery and heavier armament of the Japanese told its tale. The Russians changed course to the east, and immediately the ill-fated Rurik began to drop behind, enabling the Japanese cruisers to concentrate the fire on her at a range of little more than three miles. The steering gear broke down, and the vessel speedily became unmanageable, while the havoc wrought by the rain of shells poured into her quickly rendered her guns unworkable. With splendid gallantry the Rurik's consorts, seeing her desperate plight, returned to her assistance, and circled round her in order to draw the enemy's fire and to give the crippled cruiser a chance of effecting repairs. They suffered heavily in the attempt, and their sacrifice was unavailing. The Rurik burst into flames, which her devoted crew could not subdue. Her movements became erratic. She developed a heavy list to port, and then began to settle down by the stern. At last, after the fight had been going on for nearly four hours, it became evident that the Rurik was doomed; and her consorts, who were in sorry case themselves, left her to make their own escape. Both the Gromoboi and the Rossia had been struck repeatedly below the water line, and had been fired in several places by the Japanese shells, though the fires were got under. What finally decided their flight was the arrival of reinforcements for the enemy in the shape of the Noniwa and the Takachiho—two protected cruisers of the second class. These vessels were left to finish off the already sinking Rurik, while Admiral Kamimura set off at full speed in pursuit of the Gromoboi and Rossia. For some reason, however, which has never yet appeared, this pursuit was not persisted in. Both the Russian cruisers were badly damaged, and there is no reason to suppose that they could have ever reached Vladivostock, as they did a day or two later, if Admiral Kamimura had not drawn off his ships. There is, of course, no doubt that there must have been some compelling reason to induce the Japanese Admiral to forego the full fruits of his opportunity, but that he should have had to do so made his victory much less complete and decisive. He returned to the scene of battle to discover that the Rurik had gone down, but in time to assist in saving the crew, of whom some 600 survivors were rescued. This act of humanity was not a solitary instance, but it is one of the most striking instances of the magnanimous temper in which the Mikado's forces both on land and sea carried on the war. The Russian Commander, in his official report, makes it clear that he was much surprised and relieved when he found that the pursuit of his cruisers was being abandoned. He states that at this stage of the battle three of the funnels on the Rossia were holed, and three of her boilers were rendered useless, so that she was not able to keep up full steam, while eleven holes had been made in the vessel's hull below the water-line. The Gromoboi had six holes below her water-line; while on both of the cruisers the loss of life had been most severe. More than half the total number of officers had been killed or wounded, and quite a quarter of the crews. Thirty miles away from the spot where the Rurik had been left sinking, the Gromoboi and Rossia were able, by the mysterious drawing off of the enemy, to stop their engines and effect temporary repairs. On the 16th of August they arrived again at Vladivostock, and went immediately into dock—with the certainty of taking no further part in active operations for some months to come. Thus within a single week both squadrons of Russia's navy in the Far East suffered signal and overwhelming disaster with the effect of immediately and palpably relieving the difficulties of the campaign for the invasion of Manchuria. If the dispersal and repulse of the Port Arthur fleet was the more momentous event of the two, the shattering of the Vladivostock squadron had an immense value in at once restoring confidence and immunity to Japan's seaborne trade, and in removing from Togo's flank, as it were, a menace which since the opening of the war he had never been able wholly to dismiss. As one result of these naval victories, the war-worn and storm-beaten ships of the Japanese fleet blockading Port Arthur were able in turn to go into dock for the execution of those repairs which must have become increasingly necessary; while at the same time it was possible to strengthen and tighten the blockade, and push on with perfect freedom from risk with the preparations for landing men and munitions at the theatre of war.

The fall of Port Arthur, which the Japanese, in the pardonable confidence begotten of their uninterrupted victories on sea and land, had believed to be imminent long ago, now became the object of renewed and desperate endeavor. Dalny Harbor had been cleared of mines, and rendered available for the landing of siege trains; and no sooner had the ill-fated sortie of the fleet been frustrated, than the Japanese settled down again to a fierce assault. As a preliminary, on the 16th of August a message was sent to General Stoessel under a flag of truce demanding the surrender of the fortress, and proposing that, in case of non-compliance, the non-combatants should be allowed to leave. To the former of these proposals, General Stoessel, as might have been expected of so brave and resolute a soldier, returned an emphatic and indignant negative; and the second, with much less reason, he equally refused to entertain. Just at this moment all good Russians had been gladdened, even in the midst of their disasters, by the long-hoped-for birth of an heir to the Imperial Throne, and General Stoessel was able to send a congratulatory message to the Czar, while receiving in his turn an order appointing him, as a mark of special Imperial favor, an aide-de-camp general. The determination of the Russian garrison had never abated for a moment; and such assurances that the eyes and hopes of all Russia were centred on them, stirred them to the heroic pitch of endurance. Shut off from the outer world both by sea and land, with provisions and ammunition daily becoming more scanty, and beneath the harassment of an incessant bombardment and fierce and desperate assaults, they held grimly on to the defences, and defied the worst that the enemy could do, in spite of his overwhelming numbers. The progress of the siege could not be followed easily by the external spectator, because the Japanese strictly kept their own counsel; while the reports that were brought to Chifu from time to time by Chinese refugees were conflicting and contradictory in the last degree. One thing only was undeniably evident—that the Japanese assaults on different sections of the main line of defence had been made with desperate valor and indifference to loss of life; and that, except in unimportant instances, these assaults had not prevailed. Forts were indeed captured, but had to be abandoned again, because they were exposed to the fire of neighboring forts. Not in vain had the Russian engineers exercised their best brains in devising the defences of this "impregnable fortress". Mines, wire entanglements, and every other grim expedient for checking assault had been constructed with patient ingenuity; and, most deadly and cunning device of all, every fort in the long chain that shuts in Port Arthur on the land side had been so placed as to be dominated by the neighboring forts; so that no enemy who succeeded in capturing it could hope to plant his own guns there. It is not in question that the Japanese suffered appalling losses in the attempts to storm these defences; but they persevered, though for weeks together their hostile activities were limited to pouring into the Russian lines a tremendous shell fire at long range. The fall of Port Arthur which had seemed possible in June, was confidently predicted for July. Then August was fixed, and the Japanese forces, largely reinforced, undertook another desperate assault in the middle of that month. It failed; and though the dogged, impenetrable defence and the fierce and reckless struggle went on with few intermissions, October came without any perceptible change having been effected in the situation of the combatants.

Two Russian officers who escaped with dispatches to Chifu, brought accounts of the terrible pitch to which the temper of the opposing forces had been wrought in their long-drawn and implacable struggle. They stated that the Japanese losses during the last attack were enormous, and that even several days afterwards wounded men were to be seen raising their arms by way of appeal, but that it was impossible to help them as the fire was incessant. As for the struggle, it was carried on with an amount of fury to which there is no parallel in history. The Japanese dashed forward with the bayonet like madmen, and in serried columns, in which the shells made terrible furrows. Every time that they reached the Russian lines horrible mêlées, in which even the wounded fought to the death, took place. No quarter was given. Pairs of corpses were found clinging to each other, the teeth of the men being buried in their adversaries' throats and their fingers in their eyes as they had expired. In the last attack the 9th Japanese Division was sent forward in two columns, each composing a brigade, and when the first gave way under the avalanche of iron, the general commanding the second fired upon and exterminated it. So intense was the fury that when they got within hearing of their foes, the Japanese shook their fists at and insulted them. The failure of the Japanese to make headway with the siege of Port Arthur was the one substantially gratifying aspect of the war from the Russian point of view. Russian patriotic sentiment had something to be proud of in the courage, endurance, and resource of General Stoessel and his troops. But, as a matter of fact, the fall of Port Arthur would have been a far better service to Russian arms than the heroic resistance of its garrison. Because the fortress, which from the first had exercised such a benumbing influence on the Russian fleet and such a distracting influence on military counsels, still remained as a fatal factor in the equation for Russian strategy. The garrison were counting on relief from the north, and the honor and pride of Russia were engaged to send that relief if possible. Consequently, Kuropatkin never had his hand free. He could never review the situation with a single eye to its supreme strategical necessities; he must always qualify his dispositions and plans by regard for the plight of Port Arthur. It was this vitiating influence that brought about the initial reverses of the Russian armies; and that prevented any bold and effective plan for meeting the Japanese advance. Finally, it was this consideration that induced Kuropatkin to give battle at Liao-yang, and to expose his entire army to a disaster from which he only escaped by the skin of his teeth. Allusion to that tremendous conflict, between forces larger than any that have ever before been opposed in modern war, has already been made in the last chapter. But the event was so memorable, and has such bearing on the future course of the campaign, that it is permissible to return to the subject, especially as further light has been thrown on it by the detailed narratives of correspondents. Of this great battle, by the way, the world has received fuller descriptions than of any other feature of the campaign by land or sea; for it so happened that the sufferance of the war correspondents under the restriction of the Japanese military authorities broke down here, and several of the most distinguished representatives of the English press threw up their connection with the Japanese army after Liao-yang, and hurried back to neutral territory to cable home the full dispatches which the censor would not have permitted.

It is perfectly evident in the light of these accounts that the Japanese, emboldened by their previous successes, rated their enemy too lightly, and without any preponderance, and indeed with scarcely an equality of numbers, they attempted to take by assault a position naturally strong and fortified by all the art and resources of the military engineer. The battle did indeed prove the incomparable qualities of the Japanese soldier; but it did little to add to the reputation of Japanese generalship; while, on the other hand, it exhibited General Kuropatkin in a light infinitely more favorable than any in which he had previously appeared. If one of Kuropatkin's subordinates—General Orloff—had not blundered badly in carrying out the movements against Kuroki on the Russian left, it is probable that the battle might have resulted in a decisive defeat instead of in a nominal victory for the Japanese. That blunder—which cost Orloff his command—enabled Kuroki to hold his own at a most critical juncture, and so to obviate the dangerous possibilities which the situation had developed. It was the peril of Kuroki that compelled Oku and Nodzu, who faced the centre and right wing of the Russian position, to press on their assaults with redoubled fury, even after they had been fighting for five days and losing thousands of men without making appreciable headway. In twenty-four hours Oku made three grand assaults upon the entrenched hills before him; and, when the last had been beaten back with awful loss, the laconic order came from headquarters: "Reinforce and attack again at dawn". Such a demand upon the endurance and morale of troops is well-nigh unexampled; and that the Japanese soldier responded to it speaks volumes for his qualities as a fighting man. His persistence prevailed in the end, and the Russian line was forced. But even then the retreat was slow and stubborn. While a rear guard held the Japanese at bay, all the guns and wounded were safely withdrawn, and when at last the Japanese came into possession of Liao-yang, it was to find the fruits of their dearly-bought victory snatched from them, and their own forces too exhausted to follow victory up. The casualties in this awful conflict were enough "to stagger humanity", if one may use Mr. Kruger's famous phrase. The Japanese losses cannot have been less than 40,000, and those of the Russians were perhaps half as many; while the expenditure of ammunition on both sides was terrific. More than a thousand guns belched forth their deadly missiles continuously for nearly a week, and all eye-witnesses agree that never before has such tremendous artillery fire been witnessed. Well might it be necessary for both armies to rest after such a titanic struggle, and to devote more than a month to reforming and reinforcing the shattered ranks and to refilling their ammunition trains. The main result of the battle was to drive the grand army of the Czar one step further back from the beleaguered fortress still counting so confidently on and waiting so anxiously for relief. But, as the event showed the contest had been too indecisive to destroy finally the Russian hope of a victorious march southwards; and to that extent the Japanese might congratulate themselves. As long as the fatal fascination of Port Arthur was felt by Russian strategy, the Japanese generals could count on an invaluable ally; and very soon that ally was to come to their assistance again in a manner which their best hopes could not have conjectured.

In order to realize the spectacle that that awful battlefield presented, one has only to read the vivid narrative of the London Times' correspondent who was attached to General Oku's army. This is how he describes the earlier and abortive attempts of Oku's devoted troops to penetrate the Russian centre:—

AFTER SEVEN MONTHS.

The time was now ripe for the simultaneous advance of the three Japanese armies, and while Oku and Nodzu attacked the Russians at Anshanchan, and forced them to retire, Kuroki drove the Russians out of Anping. The great battle of Liaoyang began on August 29, and continued until September 1, when Kuroki, having crossed the Taitse-Ho, threatened the Russian left flank, and forced them to retreat. On September 6 the Japanese occupied the Yentai Mines. The army besieging Port Arthur captured the Laotishan and Sushiyen Hills on August 15, and on the 28th took Palungshan.

The shaded portion shows the Japanese advance.

"In spite of the failure of this first attack, another was ordered to begin at two on the following morning (August 30th). The cold grey morning witnessed another scene of slaughter on the Russian right as the defenders again hurled the attack back. The Japanese attacked with valor and deserved success, but the enfilading fire on every salient swept each rush away before the men could even lay hands on the entanglements. But the 5th Division had more success against the Russian left. The position here was composed of a brush-covered hogsback, sloping to the east, defended by a triple line of trenches with a glacis protected by a 10 foot entanglement covering a honeycomb of pits containing spikes at the bottom. In the semi-darkness of the morning the 41st Regiment carried this underfeature after losing seventy-five of the one hundred pioneers who hacked their way through the entanglement with axes. The men, rushing through the gap, overpowered the sentries in the trenches before the supports, sleeping in splinter proofs behind, could reinforce them. But daybreak brought a tragedy of the kind which is so common in modern war. Shell fire, believed to be from Japanese guns, drove this gallant storming party from its hold, filling the Russian trenches with Japanese dead. But now for the fighting on the 31st. The weather was now fine, and the energy of this southern attack all the morning was concentrated in an artillery fire on the bushy hill that had been won and lost. At 10 o'clock we could see the 5th Division moving up against the Russian left. There is a moment of intense excitement while the summit of the Russian position is like a miniature Mount Pelée in eruption owing to the bursting of dozens of Shimoshi shells. The head of the assault is in the gap in the entanglement. The artillery is supporting the assault. Three or four ground mines explode in the midst of the leading assaulting groups. Then as the smoke clears the black-coated Russians are seen leaving the position. In a moment the Japanese are in, and the whole of the lines in support on the crest are firing down the slope into the retreating Russians. But one swallow does not make a summer. Although the underfeature of the bushy hill was carried, the rest of the assault failed miserably. No Japanese could live within 500 yards of the bastion hill, and though the Japanese came out of the corn until the groups were so numerous that I can liken them only to swarming bees, it was only to be swept backwards into cover again, leaving behind the heavy price of their valor."

The Opposing Armies in Manchuria—The Russian Advance—Reinforcements for Both Sides—Battle of the Sha-ho—Two Hundred Hours of Carnage—Awful List of Casualties—Threat and Counterthreat—The Veil Lifted from Port Arthur—Capture of Forts—Devices of the Besiegers—The Undaunted Stoessel—The Gallant Podgorsky—World-Wide Admiration—Uncertain News.

The great battle of Liao-yang was fought in the last week of August and the first week of September; and for nearly five weeks after that tremendous struggle the opposing armies remained inactive, or rather gathered up their exhausted strength for the next desperate encounter. The Japanese had advanced as far as Yentai, a station about one-third of the distance—40 miles or so—that separates Liao-yang from Mukden. The position was valuable as giving the command of the Yentai coal mines—a most important acquisition to any general with a long line of railway communication to maintain. The Japanese entrenched themselves along a front of some 25 miles, stretching from Yentai on the railway to Pensihu, a village in the hilly country which lies north and south between the two rivers Taitse and Hun. There they settled down to replenishing the exhausted supplies, refilling the depleted ranks, and reorganizing the dislocated commands. Above all did they make speed to reconstruct the railway behind them, a work which had diligently been carried on pari passu with the advance. Early in October through trains of the new 3 ft. 6 in. gauge were running from Dalny to Yentai, and thus the fighting-line was brought within an easy six days' journey of Japan. The Russians, on the other hand, in spite of the completion of the Circum-Baikal railway towards the end of September, were still from three to five times as distant from their prime base; for if the express time from Mukden to Moscow was sixteen days, the ordinary troop train's time was much nearer thirty days. In this all-important matter of rapidity of communication the Japanese possessed an advantage inherent to the situation and of the profoundest strategical influence. While they were recuperating thus at Yentai, the Russians were busy entrenching themselves behind the Hun-ho, the course of which from Mukden follows a line, roughly speaking, due east. At first it was asserted by those in the confidence of the Russian General Staff, that no determined stand would be made at the Hun-ho, and that Kuropatkin would only hold the enemy there until the defences at Tieling were completed. But as the days passed, and the Japanese showed no disposition to renew their advance, and as reinforcements continued to pour over the Siberian railway, counsels were modified. In the last week of September General Stackelberg, attending a banquet at Mukden, proposed the toast "To the March on Liao-yang"; and this startling suggestion of a new development in the Russian plan of campaign was speedily confirmed by a remarkable manifesto to his troops which General Kuropatkin issued on the 2nd of October. After the usual high-flown exordium, in which "the arrogant foe" was described as having suffered repeated repulse—a rather daring travesty of the facts—Kuropatkin explained that he had not thought the time ripe "to take advantage of these successes; but", he added, "the time of retreat was now at an end. Hitherto the enemy in operating has relied on his great forces and, disposing his armies so as to surround us, has chosen as he deemed fit his time for attack; but now the moment to go and meet the enemy, for which the whole army has been longing, has come, and the time has arrived for us to compel the Japanese to do our will, for the forces of the Manchurian army are strong enough to begin the forward movement. Bear in mind the importance of victory to Russia, and, above all, remember how necessary victory is the more speedily to relieve our brothers at Port Arthur, who for seven months have heroically maintained the defence of the fortress entrusted to their care."

The world was naturally startled by such a pronouncement—so much easier to explain than to justify; but the Russians and their friends in France were overjoyed, believing that the time of their tribulation was at last over. The Muscovite nature has during this war shown an unrivalled capacity for self-deception; and not only the General Staff, but Kuropatkin himself seem to have persuaded themselves that the enemy had been unable to get over the shock of Liao-yang. The perfectly natural delay of the Japanese in advancing was attributed to the discouragement caused by the enormous losses sustained in the last battle and to inability to make these losses good. There were other influences at work, as Kuropatkin's address shows. "The importance of victory to Russia", and the necessity of relieving "our brothers in Port Arthur", were circumstances that evidently dominated Russian counsels; and in Kuropatkin's mind there was probably another consideration of a personal nature. After Liao-yang the Czar had ordered the formation of a Second Manchurian Army under a separate command, on the ground that the active direction in the field of such enormous forces as these two armies would represent would be beyond the capacity of any one man. General Gripenberg, a tried old soldier, was appointed to command the Second Army, and there was talk of sending out a Grand Duke to take the supreme direction of the campaign. This would have meant in degree the suppression of General Kuropatkin, and that capable soldier may well have looked with dissatisfaction on such a reward for his signal services. He may have argued with himself that if he could only achieve a decisive victory at this moment his prestige would be restored and his paramountcy assured; and, according to the information which had reached him, that victory was within his grasp. But, unfortunately, that information was wholly erroneous. Far from being dispirited and exhausted, the Japanese forces were on the very point of advancing to the attack again when Kuropatkin formed his momentous resolution and issued orders for "the march to Liao-yang". If his movement was hailed with almost delirious enthusiasm in St. Petersburg, it was observed with hardly less satisfaction at Tokio, where it was at once recognized that the enemy were obligingly releasing Marshal Oyama from the necessity of a long march and another attack on fortified positions.

By this time Kuropatkin's forces—thanks to the completion of the Circum-Baikal railway—had reached 250,000, with more than 800 guns. The Japanese strength, after reinforcements both from Japan and from the army investing Port Arthur, cannot have been much less; though at the close of the battle which was about to be fought Marshal Oyama asserted that at all points his victorious troops had been outnumbered. However that may be, the Japanese had the advantage of a prepared position, the key of which was in rugged mountainous country. Unlike the battle of Liao-yang, of which minute details have already been furnished, the battle of Yentai, as it was first called, or of Sha-ho, as it came to be known afterwards, can only be followed in its broad outline, mainly because the maps available are utterly inadequate. The place-names which mark the direction of the operations in one official report rarely agree with those in the other official report, and can only be vaguely identified. But a rough sketch-map is at least sufficient to give the general bearings of the operations. The Japanese front extended in a horseshoe formation from Yentai, on the railway, to Pensihu, on the Taitse River, with Oku on the left, Nodzu in the centre, and Kuroki on the right. The plan of Kuropatkin—a plan which in the light of after events we know to have been beyond the possibility of achievement—was to attack the right wing of the Japanese army under Kuroki, and roll it back upon Liao-yang, while the Japanese left and centre were held in front; then to shut up Oyama and his troops in Liao-yang, much as Sir George White was shut up in Ladysmith, while a rapid march southwards was made to the relief of Port Arthur.

On the 5th October the Russian advance began on both sides of the railway from Mukden, and from Fushan against the Japanese right. The flank movement, on the success of which all Kuropatkin's schemes were based, was entrusted to Stackelberg and Rennenkampf—Stackelberg attacking from the north, and Rennenkampf with his Cossacks, working round from the northeast. On Sunday, the 9th October, the first contact between the opposing armies was made, and Stackelberg—much to his own surprise—was able to occupy Bentsiaputse, a place north of the Yentai coalmines, commanding the main roads to Fushan, Mukden, and Liao-yang. It had been expected that the Japanese would make a desperate stand here, but they retreated after offering only a feeble resistance. Meanwhile, Rennenkampf fiercely assailed Kuroki's extreme right at Pensihu, while a force of Cossacks some 3,000 strong daringly crossed the Taitse River and severed Kuroki's communications in the rear. Up to this moment everything had seemed to go well with the Russian plan of attack. Several important positions east of Pensihu were taken by assault, and Kuroki's situation seemed critical for the moment. But Marshal Oyama appears never to have doubted the ability of his well-tried lieutenant to hold his own, and no sooner had the whole scheme of his enemy been developed than he decided to counter it with a vigorous offensive. Kuroki was reinforced on the 10th, while a force of cavalry detached to operate against the Cossacks south of the Taitse-ho succeeded in driving the enemy off and in restoring the interrupted communications. As soon as the reinforcements reached Kuroki at Pensihu he put the possibility of his being "rolled up" beyond all doubt by fiercely assailing Stackelberg and recapturing the positions which had temporarily fallen into Russian hands. Thereafter he remained completely master of the situation, and the desperate but futile assaults which he sustained in the next few days only resulted in a tremendous casualty list for the enemy—a list totalling at least 20,000. The decisive repulse of the Russian flanking movement involved the frustration of the whole of Kuropatkin's plans in advancing from the Hun-ho. But the battle had only just begun yet, for the Russian right and centre, which had begun their southward march with such confidence, now found their role changed from attack to defence; and instead of the Japanese being, according to program, forced back upon Liao-yang, it became a question whether the Russians would be able to make good their retreat on Mukden. General Oku, advancing along the railway to the west, after two days' hard fighting drove back Kuropatkin's right to the line of the Shi-li-ho; while General Nodzu on the east of the railway was equally successful, and signalized his victory by a considerable capture of guns. Oyama's object now was to drive his enemy eastwards from the railway and back upon the Hun-ho, when it would be impossible for him to escape disaster. For some days this tremendous issue hung in the balance, and the Japanese forces were within an ace of accomplishing their purpose. But thanks to the dogged tenacity of the Russian troops, and thanks still more to the terribly wasting and exhausting effect of a week's continuous fighting, the impetus of the Japanese attack was not quite sufficient to complete the promised triumph; and at last the two great armies came to a standstill some ten miles south of Mukden, incapable of further action.

From the 9th October to the 17th the relentless struggle raged along this wide front of more than 20 miles. Day and night the devoted troops on either side flung themselves with reckless bravery on the positions of their foes; while from nearly 2,000 guns an incessant storm of shrapnel and shell burst over the contested ground. Liao-yang had been terrible enough; but from all accounts the artillery duel at the battle of Sha-ho even eclipsed the terrific incidents of the earlier engagements. On the 13th the Russian retreat became general, and Oku, capturing twenty-five Russian guns, succeeded in driving the troops opposed to him back from the line of the Shi-li-ho to the Sha-ho, where behind defences which the forethought of Kuropatkin had provided, they prepared to make their last desperate stand. The forces before Kuroki had retreated towards Fushan in a northeasterly direction; and those before Nodzu in the centre, after suffering losses almost as heavy as Stackelberg's columns had sustained, fell back in something approaching to disorder on the line of the Sha-ho. The position of Kuropatkin's army was now exceedingly critical, and it was not without cause that he issued a general order that the ground occupied must be held at all costs. It is evident that to make good the retreat Stackelberg's troops on the extreme east, which were far in advance of the rest of the Russian line, must be withdrawn first, and that the central army under Zarubaieff, which again was far in advance of the right wing, must be drawn back next; and that during these perilous operations General Bilderling, who commanded the Russian right resting behind the Sha-ho, must stand firm. By the skin of his teeth, almost, Bilderling just managed to hold his ground. On the 13th Oku's impetuous assault upon the Russian lines succeeded so far as to break the Russian centre. Had that advantage been maintained nothing could have saved the Russian army. But by a tremendous effort the last reserves were brought up and recaptured the ground that had been lost. For thirty-six hours the battle raged with varying fortune at this critical point; but the Russians held on, and these thirty-six priceless hours being gained, the Russian centre and left were saved. On the 14th, five days after the battle had begun, a deluge of rain fell—a deluge precipitated, as at Liao-yang, by the heavy and incessant firing—and the already sorely-tried troops of Oku found their further movements grievously impeded. For several days more, however, the contest on the Sha-ho raged with unabated fury. Again and again the Russians made fierce counter-attacks on the Japanese, sustaining terrible losses in consequence. One position—a dominant elevation on the south bank of the Sha-ho, known as Lonely-Tree Hill—was the scene of long-continued and desperate fighting, in which both armies alternately captured and were driven from the vantage ground. It was here that the one substantial success of the Russian arms was achieved in the capture of twelve Japanese guns. During Sunday, the 16th of October the Russians had delivered no less than seven counter-attacks on Oku's troops, and all of them had been beaten back with loss. In these engagements a conspicuous part had been played by a force under Brigadier-General Yamada, made up of troops from Nodzu's and Oku's commands, which succeeded in penetrating the Russian line and in capturing two guns. But in returning to camp after this exploit, Yamada's force had ventured too far and was enveloped by a Russian division, and was only able to win through by the sacrifice of its guns, after a fierce hand-to-hand encounter in which the casualties were nearly 1,000.

Slowly, reluctantly, after fitful recrudescences, the great battle wore itself out, and by the 20th October the two armies were left facing each other on either side of the Sha-ho—a line 15 miles north of that which the Japanese had occupied before the engagement began. The net result, therefore, was a decided gain of ground for the Japanese, and the infliction of losses greater than had been sustained in any previous battle on the Russian army. Telegraphing to Tokio on the 15th, Marshal Oyama thus summed up the results of the fighting as far as it had gone—a summary which further events did not alter:—

"As a sequel to a fight lasting continuously for five days, we have driven back the superior forces of the enemy at every point, pursuing him and forcing him to the south bank of the Hun. We have inflicted heavy losses, and captured over thirty guns and hundreds of prisoners. We have defeated his plans and converted an offensive operation into a radical failure."

"Radical failure" in war means far more than defeated plans. It carries with it an awful and immediate penalty levied in killed and wounded, and when the tale of losses came to be counted it was found to exceed even the most pessimistic anticipations. The Russian dead left on the field alone numbered no less than 13,333; and as the wounded, at the lowest estimate, cannot have been less than four to one, it is apparent that the total casualties suffered by General Kuropatkin's troops must have been between 60,000 and 70,000. An index to the severity of the fighting is afforded by an analysis of these returns, which shows that more than 5,000 Russian dead were found before both Oku's army and Kuroki's. Even the Russian General Staff, which has shown a decided tendency to minimize losses, did not venture to place those sustained at Sha-ho at less than 45,000 rank and file and 800 officers. The total Japanese losses, on the other hand, though heavy, were but a fraction of their foe's. Oyama placing them at 15,879. But the loss in life was not the only disastrous result of the battle for the army of the Czar. The Japanese captured 709 prisoners and 45 guns, with large quantities of arms and ammunition; and against these captures are to be set the twelve guns lost at Lonely-Tree Hill, rechristened by the Russians Putiloff Hill in honor of the officer who achieved the success, and who was immediately decorated by the Czar. In one sense the battle of the Sha-ho may be regarded as indecisive, in that it left the two contending armies again at a deadlock. At Liao-yang the strategy of both generals had failed, and in a less degree the same result was reached at Sha-ho; for Oyama's initial success could not be followed up to its legitimate and triumphant conclusion. But, on the other hand, Kuropatkin's effort to march to Liao-yang and make a diversion in favor of Port Arthur had signally failed; and the army which he had ostentatiously declared to be strong enough to take the offensive and had been hurled back by "the arrogant foe," who were at last to be "compelled to do the Russian will." It was in that circumstance that the real measure of the Japanese victory was to be found—that after eight months of war the armies of the Czar were still unequal to the task committed to them. Had Kuropatkin been even in a measure successful in this, his first great offensive movement, the moral effect could not have failed to be incalculable. As it was, it inflicted one more discouragement on troops that had experienced nothing but retreats and reverses from the opening of the campaign. The temper in which the Japanese accepted the new laurels which their army had won was eminently characteristic of a nation which has, in spite of all temptations to vainglory and exultation, comforted itself with perfect sobriety and self-restraint. The Mikado issued a rescript to his people, the terms of which are worth giving, if only for the contrast which they offer to some of the addresses issued from St. Petersburg and the headquarters of Alexeieff:—

"Since the outbreak of the war our army and our navy have demonstrated their bravery and loyalty, while both officials and people have acted in unison to support the cause. So far, success has attended our cause, but, the ultimate accomplishment being yet far distant, it is necessary to be patient and steadfast in the pursuance of our action, and thus aim at the final accomplishment of our purpose."

Another and even more striking testimony to the inflexible determination of the Japanese people was supplied by the Army rescript issued at the end of September in connection with the expansion of the Japanese military system. The Government of the Czar had demonstrated its intention to prosecute the war unflinchingly by the creation of a second Manchurian Army. Japan's answer to this menace was to extend the period of service with the colors in the Japanese army from nine to fourteen years, by which act the available reserves for the army in Manchuria were increased at a stroke by nearly half a million men. But though Japan could answer promptly and adequately the steps which her foe had taken to strengthen his armies in the field, it was not so easy to recompense herself for the elimination of a source of weakness in her enemy's counsels. Admiral Alexeieff, whose fatal influence had been as valuable as several battleships and army corps to the Japanese, was finally recalled to St. Petersburg at the end of October. On the 26th of that month the Viceroy issued an address to the troops, announcing, in his usually inflated style, that on his own request he had been relieved of the duties of Commander-in-Chief, while being retained in the office of Viceroy and assured of the continuance of the Imperial confidence and favor. In less than a week from the issue of that manifesto, it was announced that Alexeieff and his staff were on the way to St. Petersburg by express train, and that there was no probability of their return, while Kuropatkin was left in supreme command.

No sooner had the echoes of the great battle of the Sha-ho died down than the attention of the world was turned again to Port Arthur, where the long and desperate siege was continuing with undiminished determination on the part of the attack and invincible heroism on the part of the defence. For months together little authentic news of the progress of events had been allowed to leak out; but suddenly, in the beginning of November, the Japanese censor removed his restrictions, and a vivid and circumstantial narrative of the operations was allowed to come through. By the end of June the Japanese forces of investment had occupied a line across the Kwang-tung Peninsula running from Ingentsi Bay, on the north, southeastwards to a point on the south coast-line some ten miles east of Dalny. After another month's diligent assault they had advanced the line nearly five miles—from Vostikorablei Bay on the north to Takhe Bay on the south. Another advance in the beginning of August brought the extreme right of their line down to Louisa Bay on the west, and roughly round in a semicircle to Takhe Bay, confronting the main line of the formidable Russian defences. The great assault of the 28th August was, on the whole, unsuccessful, and achieved nothing on the east. But on the west the line of investment was drawn still further south until it rested on Pigeon Bay. It is now necessary to understand more exactly the nature of the task with which the Japanese army of investment was confronted. Port Arthur lies in a sort of amphitheatre formed by ranges of hills varying in height from 1,300 feet to 1,500 feet. These hills sweep round from Golden Hill—the promontory which on the east commands the entrance to the harbor—northwards for a distance of nearly three miles. Then, where the railway line and road pass through them, they turn westwards and southwards, extending down the toe of the Kwang-tung promontory to a point parallel with the base of the Tiger's Tail; while further south still is the formidable Liao-tie-shan range, some 1,500 feet high. On all these hills the Russians had constructed huge fortifications strengthened with every device which the military engineer's art could suggest, and armed with the most powerful artillery. It is true that some of the correspondents who paid hurried visits to the great naval fortress before the actual outbreak of hostilities were inclined to belittle the strength of the defences. Thus Mr. Bennet Burleigh, of the London Telegraph, in a most interesting account expressed his belief that the Russian stronghold was over-fortified, and that it would be possible for those who captured outlying defence to command the inner forts. On the other hand, it must be remembered that the most skilful engineers in the world had been employed by the Russians in the construction of the forts, and the fact that such a magnificent and substantial resistance was offered to ten times the number of soldiers as cleared out the Chinese in a few days, proves that the soundest military principles were adhered to. The main positions were defended by advanced works surrounded by deep moats, in which were built bombproof defences, roofed with steel plates, and by fanfasses, or mines filled with huge stones, which could be exploded by the pressure of an electric button. The approaches were rendered almost inaccessible by barbed-wire entanglements, pits planted with sharpened stakes, and by transverse works and trenches which commanded with an enfilading fire every possible line of advance. The broad scheme of the fortifications may be easily grasped. Fronting Takhe Bay on the east is the Petushan group of forts, with the Keekwan-Urlong forts commanding the approaches from the north and the northeast, and preventing the Petushan forts from being taken in reverse. West of these forts and on the other side of the parade-ground and railway are the Antszshan and the Etseshan forts, which prevent any attack from the northwest, while a chain of forts from Antszshan to Sunghslwo, running southeastwards down to the inner harbor, command the parade-ground and railway line. Another line of forts stretches due south from Etseshan to White Wolf Hill on the west side of the west port, while yet another series of heavy fortifications surmounts the high ground along the Tiger's Tail. Well might the Russians boast that their fortress was impregnable, for if any place of arms could be justly so described, Nature and military ingenuity had combined to earn that title for Port Arthur. At the outset of the investment, Port Arthur's garrison numbered, all told, some 35,000 men. It was made up of the 3rd, 4th and 7th East Siberian Rifle Brigades, with part of the 6th, and with the East Siberian Rifle Artillery Division, and, of course, with the crews of all the men-o'-war lying imprisoned in the harbor. The numbers were none too great to man adequately the great chain of works behind which Port Arthur's security lay; but the troops were of the best quality, and they had the invaluable inspiration of such a leader as General Stoessel, with such a capable and gallant lieutenant as General Fock. Stoessel, the hero of the Russian army in the present war, is descended from an old military family. His grandfather was a general in the Swedish army, who afterwards settled in Russia. Stoessel himself, who was born in 1848, entered the Russian army as a cadet at the age of ten, and received his commission eight years later, at the same time, curiously enough, as Kuropatkin. He served with distinction in the Russo-Turkish War, and afterwards held important commands in Siberia, while since 1899 he had been stationed at Port Arthur. To the assault and investment of the fortress, the Japanese, under Nogi, brought up at first 60,000 men, and, as the operations advanced, large reinforcements which not only made good the enormous losses sustained, but swelled the fighting strength to nearly 100,000 men. This number fluctuated to some extent, for at least two divisions were drawn off from the siege to reinforce Oyama at the battle of the Sha-ho; but at no time can the total forces before Port Arthur have been less than 60,000, and then superiority in numbers to the defence gradually increased until from a proportion of two to one, it had reached the proportion of six or seven to one. This growing disparity, of course, was due to the fact that while the Japanese could replenish their exhausted ranks, the Russian garrison could not fill the gaps caused by wounds and sickness; while a further reduction of at least 5,000 men in the forces at Stoessel's command was made by the naval sortie on August 10th. That feat, of course, deprived Port Arthur of the services of the crews of all the vessels that escaped to neutral ports.

In the great assault of the 19th-26th August the Japanese lost 14,000 men, and succeeded only in capturing the Banjushan fort, which is east of the Urlungshan forts. General Nogi then settled down to steady siege operations, drawing his parallels nearer and nearer to the Russian main position, and capturing the all-important Kuropatkin fort early in September. This fort, which stands on Division Hill half-way between Wolf Hill and the harbor, not only commanded the parade-ground, but gave the Japanese the possession of the waterworks from which the garrison drew the main water supply. Up to this moment General Nogi's heaviest guns had been 4.7 and 6in. pieces of the naval type, and they had been quite unequal to the heavy guns of the position mounted in the Russian works. But now heavy siege guns and 11in. howitzers arrived from Japan, and immediately their effect began to make itself felt, so that by the 19th September another assault was resolved on. This was directed against three points of the ring of defensive works—against the metre-hill forts on the west, and (the outworks, as it were of the great Etseshan and Antszshan forts) against the advanced works of Urlungshan on the northeast, and against the lunettes in the Shuishi Valley which connects the Antszshan and the Urlungshan forts. At this last point some of the fiercest fighting of the whole siege took place. The Shuishi Valley was defended by a series of strong lunettes connected by advance works, within fifty yards of which the Japanese had advanced their parallels. On the evening of the 19th September four desperate assaults were delivered against the westernmost lunette. All, however, were beaten back. At dawn the assault was renewed with greater strength, and the western lunette was carried, mainly by the employment of dynamite grenades. The Russian garrison were driven out of the trenches, losing three quick-firers, four machine guns, and two mortars, but inflicting on the victors losses amounting to over 400 killed and wounded. At the same time a determined assault was made on 203 Metre Hill and the adjoining ridge by three regiments of the right division. The assaulting parties reached the dead ground beneath the ridge, but there they were compelled to remain during the night. At dawn on the 20th a terrific bombardment on the position began and continued till evening; and when the night had fallen the Japanese rushed the trenches on the eastern extremity of the crest line after a fierce hand-to-hand fight in which not only bayonets but even stones were used. But only part of the work had been won. The fort on the southwestern slopes of the ridges was still untaken, and though a small party of the besiegers penetrated the defences here, they were driven out again next day, and four more assaults delivered during the next two days proved equally unavailing though terribly costly in life—the casualty list at this point alone amounting to 2,000. The defences of this advance fort on 203 Metre Hill were typical of the obstacles which the Japanese had to overcome in the prosecution of their assaults. The bomb-proofs connecting the network of trenches which seared the slopes of the hill were made of steel plates covered with earth, and a triple row of wire entanglements made the ground in front of the trenches impassable. In the operations from the 19th to the 26th September the Japanese lost more than 4,000 killed and wounded. In the assault at the same time on the advanced works of Urlungshan the parallels of the Japanese had been carried to within fifty yards of the defences, but the assault still proved a costly business. Again and again the assaulting rushes were swept back by rifle and machine-gun fire; but the indomitable spirit of the Mikado's troops at length prevailed, and the redoubt was carried at the point of the bayonet. The position thus gained in front of Urlungshan enabled the Japanese to mount their heavy howitzers in such a way as to bombard not only the main forts but the harbor with great effect; and in the course of a few days several of the warships lying at anchor were severely damaged by the high-angle fire. By hard fighting and diligent sapping the investing army now continued to make steady progress against the Urlungshan forts which lie just east of the road and railway and command their approach to Port Arthur. On the 10th October the attack managed to establish itself on the crest of the East Urlungshan fort, and on the 16th the entrenched hill between Urlungshan and Banjushan, the latter of which was already in Japanese hands, was taken by storm. On the 25th October the glacis of East Urlungshan was stormed and held in spite of repeated counter-attacks on the part of the Russians. In front of these forts on the northeastern side the fiercest fighting continued all through the latter part of October and the early part of November, the general result being that the Japanese saps were brought within less than 300 yards of the main positions while the fire from the howitzers finally silenced the great forts of Urlungshan and Shunshusan. But these successes, though considerable, were insufficient to make a really serious breach in the main lines of the defence, as long as the great forts on the west—Antszshan and Etseshan—held out, and forthwith the Japanese attack was diverted to the latter of those two strongholds. Meanwhile, the heavy and incessant fire directed on the harbor and the town had been most destructive. The naval repairing works had to be abandoned, and both the old and the new Chinese towns were rendered uninhabitable where their buildings were not razed to the ground or consumed by the fires started by the bursting shells.

For the first time in history a fortress constructed according to the latest principles of military science, and defended by modern long-range artillery, was being besieged; and like the old walled cities of the 17th and 18th centuries, its defences could only be overcome by sap and mine and parallel. So much the assailants had learnt to their cost in their earlier and futile attempts at taking the place by storm. The exigencies of these operations led to the adoption of many ingenious devices by the forces on both sides—such, for instance, as a steel bullet-proof shield to protect the pioneer engaged in cutting wire entanglements; and the deadly grenade charged with dynamite, flung into the enemy's trenches by the hand or by means of wooden mortars bound with bamboo. At first the Japanese had chosen the night time for their assaults, but this plan had to be abandoned owing to the effective employment by the Russians of searchlights and star shells, the former having the effect not only of exposing the assaulting troops to the fire of the defenders, but blinding them in their advance on their objective. Throughout the siege the defenders had shown not only indomitable courage, but inexhaustible resource, and in spite of all the discouragement which the steady and inexorable advance of the Japanese might have been supposed to inflict, they continued equal to every demand on their fortitude. From time to time supplies reached them by means of blockade-runners, but this was but a precarious and inadequate means of replenishing the stores on which such a long and severe strain had been made. And yet, in spite of all rumors to the effect that ammunition was running short, the great guns continued to hurl their defiance at the Japanese artillery, and never in any single instance was the defence weakened by a failure of powder and shot. Though the Russians had failed to foresee many things which the course of the war has proved to have been fairly obvious, no one can pretend that they failed to equip their great stronghold in the Far East in a manner worthy of its claim to rank as "the Gibraltar of the East." After nearly six months of close investment and almost continuous bombardment, the fortress still held at bay an enemy who had proved himself, not only before the defences of Port Arthur, but in many a stricken field beside, to possess fighting qualities rarely equalled and never surpassed in the world's history of warfare—an enemy, too, who possessed every resource of military science, and who had studied in the best military schools. The fact that the Japanese, who had confidently expected to take Port Arthur before the end of the summer had not even by the middle of November made a decisive breach in its main defences, speaks volumes for the character of those defences. But even the strongest fortifications that human ingenuity can construct are only formidable when men of high spirit man them; and the chief credit for having baffled so long the most desperate efforts of Japanese skill and courage must ever be given to General Stoessel and the men who, serving under him, became infected with his spirit and inspired by his example. By the middle of November the Japanese lines had, indeed, been drawn very close round the devoted citadel of the Czar. They were in possession of the eastern ridge, and held practically at their mercy that great ring of fortified hills which shuts in Port Arthur from the Dalny side. They had cut the main water supply of the garrison, and they had possessed themselves of important ground to the north of the old town, and their siege guns were able to render the dockyards and the harbor untenable for ships of war. To the west the advance had been less signal, and their foothold on the great ridge which commands the fortress on the western side was at best slight and precarious; while not even the faintest impression had been made on the great chain of fortifications at Liau-tie-shan, in the extreme south corner of the peninsula.

Tremendous efforts had been made to achieve the capture of the place by the 3rd November, the birthday of the Mikado; but that auspicious day passed without the fall of Port Arthur seeming to be in any degree nearer, while General Stoessel continued to send cheerful and undaunted messages to his Imperial master whenever a boat succeeded in running the blockade of the Japanese fleet and in reaching Chifu. Through all these protracted and strenuous operations, the losses of the Japanese had been very severe; they cannot have been less than 40,000 men, and they may have been considerably more. The garrison had suffered less severely, but in the absence of reserves their losses were even more serious, and by the middle of November the total effective force was little more than 10,000 men. It will ever be a mystery how a force so utterly inferior to its enemy, defending, a wide perimeter of fortifications, every point of which was daily liable to fierce assault and bombardment, could for so many weeks endure the awful strain to which it was subjected. Yet the indomitable garrison was never quiescent or passive in its resistance. Besides repelling assault, it engaged in continual sorties and counter-attacks, and often, when driven from an essential position succeeded in recapturing it at the point of the bayonet. A remarkable instance of this offensive capacity was furnished in the course of the great assault from the 19th September to the 26th September. In operating from the north against the defences of the Shuishi Valley, which lies between Antszshan and Urlungshan, the Japanese, after their first success, pressed on against High Hill, a position of the most vital importance to the defence, as it permitted the principal forts on the west of the town to be taken in reverse. As any attempt to retake the hill must be a desperate enterprise, General Stoessel refused to issue an order for its recapture, but called for volunteers. The requisite number were at once forthcoming, and led by Lieutenant Podgorsky, they attacked the Japanese with grenades and drove them from the position which they had already begun to entrench.

In his dispatch of the 23rd September, this is how General Stoessel reports the affair:—

"The last assault on High Hill was repulsed to-day at 5 o'clock in the morning. The enemy had actually occupied some of the defences of the High Hill position and had placed machine-guns in them, which they directed against our troops. Lieutenant Podgorsky was dispatched to this part of the field by General Kondrachenko with a force of chasseurs and engineers, who under the direction of Colonel Irmann hurled grenades filled with pyroxiline into the works held by the Japanese. These exploded among the enemy, who fled in panic. Captain Sytcheff, of the 5th Regiment, pursued the flying foe with chasseurs. Colonel Irmann attributes the principal share in the work of compelling the enemy to withdraw entirely from High Hill to Lieutenant Podgorsky. The Japanese lost over 10,000 men. All our troops distinguished themselves. General Kondrachenko, Colonel Irmann, Captain Sytcheff, and Lieutenant Podgorsky won special distinction. The troops fought heroically, particularly the 5th Regiment. The whole garrison down to the last man is resolved to defend Russia's bulwark in the Far East to the last drop of blood."

But even the greatest heroism cannot achieve the impossible; and in spite of Stoessel's persistent optimism, it became evident that his powers of resistance were daily diminishing. An attempt on the part of the Japanese General to induce the garrison to capitulate in spite of their leader, met with no response; but throughout the civilized world, whose sympathy and admiration had been deeply stirred by the heroic stand of Port Arthur's garrison, voices were lifted to urge that no more useless sacrifice of noble life should be permitted; and that the men who had done so much for the honor of the Czar should be spared at least the last mortal agony of the struggle with the inevitable.

On the 15th, however, a Russian torpedo-boat bearing dispatches from Stoessel managed to elude the blockade and to reach Chifu, pursued by Japanese destroyers. The boat was warned that it must leave the neutral harbor within twenty-four hours or be disarmed, and rather than submit to either of these alternatives, the officer in command blew his vessel up. But his work had been done; and his dispatches containing the latest accounts of the position at Port Arthur reached St. Petersburg. Immediately afterwards the report arrived that General Kuropatkin had been empowered to treat for terms of capitulation for Port Arthur. But whether that was in fact the result of Stoessel's message, or whether the Czar's Government received from it encouragement in the belief that Port Arthur could hold out till the arrival of the Baltic Fleet, is a question which is still unanswered.

The North Sea Outrage—Seizures of Neutrals—The Case of the "Malacca"—The Baltic Fleet—Departure at Last—Russian Alarms—In the North Sea—Bringing Home the News—Russian Allegations—Naval Preparations—Supplementary Information—The Baltic Fleet Proceeds to Madagascar.

No sooner had the echoes of the terrific battle of the Sha-ho begun to subside than the attention of the civilized world, which had so long been concentrated on the vicissitudes of the Titanic struggle in the Far East, was suddenly focussed on a spot separated from the theatre of war by more than half the circumference of the globe, and on an incident fraught, as it seemed, with more direful and tremendous consequences even than the momentous rupture between Russia and Japan. On the 15th of October, Russia's Baltic Fleet—which for many months had been preparing as a reinforcement to the Pacific Squadron—at last left port on its voyage to the Far East; and within six days of its departure it had so effectually asserted itself as a factor in the naval situation that Europe, shocked and startled, woke up one morning to find itself hanging on the perilous brink of that Armageddon which has been the nightmare of statesmen for the last twenty years. In passing through the North Sea, the Russian fleet—for causes which have yet to be fully elicited—fired on a flotilla of British fishing-boats engaged in trawling on the Dogger Bank; killed and wounded several of the fishermen; sunk one of the trawlers, and more or less grievously injured others. When the news of this amazing outrage was published a storm of indignation and resentment swept over England such as has not been known for more than a generation; and feeling was embittered and intensified to a truly dangerous pitch, first by the callous indifference displayed by the perpetrators of the outrage, and next by the indisposition of the Russian Government to offer those immediate apologies and amends which alone could palliate so wanton a breach of the comity of nations. It seemed for the moment that Russia had deliberately designed to provoke England to hostilities, in the hope of redeeming her own desperate position by extending the area of the conflict and by dragging into it first the ally of Japan, and by consequence her own ally, France. The prospect, though almost too terrible to contemplate, did not for a moment quench the resolution of the people of England, where men of all parties were found standing shoulder to shoulder in the demand for ample reparation. What made the situation especially dangerous was that public patience had at last been well-nigh exhausted by the repeated provocations of Russia—provocations which the North Sea outrage was only the crown and culmination. To understand this fact, it is necessary to go back a little.

When Russia found that she could not hope successfully to contest the supremacy of the sea with Japan, she turned her attention to the subsidiary enterprise of commerce-raiding. In this task the Vladivostock Squadron were particularly active, and, unsated by the destruction of such Japanese transports and trading vessels as they encountered, seized or sunk many vessels flying neutral flags. On the 16th of June the Vladivostock cruisers seized the Allanton, a British steamer, carrying coal from Hokkaido Island to Singapore. There was nothing contraband in the cargo or destination of this vessel, as the subsequent decision of the St. Petersburg Prize Court proved, yet the Allanton was confiscated, and her crew held prisoners at Vladivostock for months. The real reason for this high-handed conduct was that the Allanton had previously carried a cargo of coal from Cardiff to Japan—but she had been chartered for that voyage before the outbreak of war. On the 16th of July the Indo-China Steam Navigation Company's steamer, the Hispang, was wantonly sunk in Pigeon Bay by a Russian torpedo-boat. The Hispang was engaged in a lawful trade; there was no suggestion that she carried contraband; and indeed no examination of her cargo was even attempted. She was flying the British flag, and she stopped directly she was ordered to do so. But in spite of these facts, a Russian torpedo-boat came straight out to her and sunk her—the captain, officers, and passengers being rescued with difficulty. It was afterwards confessed by the Russian officer that did this deed that his orders were given under the impression that the Hispang was the steamer Haimum, which was being employed by the London Times' correspondent. On the 26th of July an equally gross outrage was perpetrated by the Vladivostock Squadron, who, besides unjustifiably seizing the Chalcas, deliberately sunk on the 23rd of July the British steamer Knight Commander. This vessel was carrying rails for Japan; and even if such a cargo could be regarded as contraband, there was no excuse for sinking the vessel. Such an act, in the words of Mr. Balfour and Lord Lansdowne, constituted "a grave breach of international law"; and it was aggravated by the circumstances in which it was committed. The captain and crew were ordered to get clear of the vessel in ten minutes, and such was the haste with which they were compelled to leave the boats in order to save their lives, that nearly all the personal effects had to be sacrificed. The growing irritation with these acts was brought to a head in England by the famous case of the Malacca—a P. and O. mail steamship which was seized by Russian cruisers in the Red Sea on the 19th July. At the beginning of June two vessels of the Russian Volunteer Fleet in the Black Sea—the Petersburg and the Smolensk—were "designated for Government service outside the Black Sea." Even their commanders were kept in the dark as to their destination and the nature of the service that they were to perform. The two vessels, which, as warships, would not by international treaty have been able to leave the Black Sea, passed through the Dardanelles under the commercial flag, and then steered straight to the Suez Canal, where the non-belligerent character was still maintained. But it seems that on reaching Constantinople the commanders had been informed that their ships had been raised to the rank of second-class cruisers in the Russian fleet; and no sooner had the Red Sea been reached than the Petersburg and the Smolensk put off their commercial disguise and put on the character of ships of war. They flew the naval flag, and mounted the armament of 5in. quick-firers, which had been up to that moment securely stowed away. The Government service for which they had been designated was that of searching for contraband on neutral vessels, and the soi-disant cruisers lost no time in demonstrating their zeal. All this time, by the way, the Russian Admiralty was strenuously denying that the Petersburg and the Smolensk had left the Black Sea at all. On the 15th July the commerce-raiders began operations, rather tactlessly, by stopping and seizing the German mail steamer, Prinz Heinrich, and by confiscating the Japanese mails. The indignation and astonishment of the German public had only begun to make itself heard, when it was distracted by the intelligence that the P. and O. steamer Malacca had also been stopped, and had been actually brought back to Suez in charge of a Russian prize crew. The vessel, flying the Russian flag, reached Suez on the 19th July, and on the 20th the English Government, moved thereto by the clamor which began to be heard both in Parliament and in the press, addressed to the Government of the Czar a strongly-worded protest against the seizure and a demand that the Malacca should be instantly released. The demand was based on the irregular position of the Petersburg—a vessel which, if a ship of war, ought not to have passed the Dardanelles, and which, if not a ship of war, had no right to stop and search neutral vessels. This contention was unanswerable; for it is evident that if a ship could be permitted to change its character at will, it could perform all the functions of a ship of war and still enjoy all the privileges of a non-belligerent at neutral ports.

Incidentally it was pointed out in Lord Lansdowne's dispatch that the ammunition found on board the Malacca belonged to the British Government, and was intended for the China Squadron. It subsequently came to light that the seizure of the Malacca was no mere accident; but that the vessel had been waited for by the Russian cruisers acting on secret information from Russian agents at Antwerp. For several days no reply was vouchsafed by the Russian Government, and feeling in this country rose to such a height that the situation became dangerous. While the whole British nation was chafing under the indignity and affront, the Malacca was being navigated by her prize crew, with almost deliberate insolence, through the Suez Canal on the way to the Baltic port of Libau. A British liner, in the eyes of the whole world, was made an ignominious captive, and, like a pickpocket in the clutch of a police-constable, was dragged away to judgment. The humiliation of the situation was aggravated by the fact that at Suez—a port of the English Protectorate of Egypt—the Russian officer in charge of the Malacca demanded to be supplied with coal, water, and provisions. In spite of the strong representations which had been made by the British Government, nothing was done at St. Petersburg to alleviate the situation. The Malacca reached Suez on the 19th of July and Port Said on the 20th, and on the 21st she sailed unconcernedly for her destination, which was ostentatiously announced to be Libau. Then at last the Russian Government broke the silence. Having inflicted the greatest possible humiliation on this country, they were pleased to accept the assurances of the British Government that the prize had no contraband on board, and to consent that the Malacca should not be brought before a Prize Court. A claim for damages for detention was to be admitted, and the vessel was to be handed over to the British authorities at "some Mediterranean port," after formal examination in the presence of the British Consul. On the 27th July the terms of this agreement—so extravagantly indulgent to Russia—were carried out, and the incident of the Malacca closed; but there remained still unsettled the fundamental question of the status of the volunteer cruisers, Smolensk and Petersburg. Meanwhile, for the German liner Scandia, which had been seized on the 23rd July, very different treatment was reserved—she was released on the following day. The only public recognition of the protests of the British Government which was given by the Government of the Czar was the publication on the 3rd August of an official communication declaring that "the special commission" of the cruisers Petersburg and Smolensk had "expired;" and these vessels promptly disappeared from the Red Sea. But their mischievous career was not yet at an end. Although the Russian Government had specifically promised that they should not be employed in searching neutral shipping any longer, the world was startled at the end of August to learn that the British steamer Comedian had been stopped 80 miles from East London and 10 miles only from the coast of British territory by a mysterious Russian cruiser. The unpleasant impression in England was deepened when it was discovered that this strange cruiser was no other than the Smolensk of Red Sea fame. Well might Mr. Balfour, who received at this moment a deputation of British shipowners, declare that the incident had produced "a painful impression" in the minds of the English Government. Representations to the Russian Government produced the characteristic excuse that the messages sent to the Smolensk and Petersburg had not reached their destination. There is, indeed, good reason to believe that the Russian Admiralty, which had done its best to thwart the Russian Foreign Office, had taken particularly good care that the messages should be delayed until the Petersburg and Smolensk were out of reach. But realizing the gravity of the situation, and protesting their own helplessness, the Russian Government now invited the British Government itself to communicate to the raiders a cypher message of recall. Accordingly the cruisers on the Cape Station were sent out to find the delinquents; and on the 5th September they were discovered coaling in the territorial waters of Zanzibar with German colliers in attendance. Their whereabout was at any rate sufficiently well known for them to command the means to replenish their bunkers, and as soon as they saw a British warship, they prepared for instant flight. But H.M.S. Forte managed to communicate to them the orders of their own Government, and as these were too unequivocal to be disregarded, the raiding career of the Petersburg and Smolensk forthwith came to an end. But they had done enough, in conjunction with the Vladivostock Squadron, to rouse feeling in England to a high pitch of irritation; and to make it ill-prepared to endure with patience or forbearance the greater and still more wanton outrage with which the Baltic Fleet was to inaugurate its voyage to the Far East.

The dispatch of this fleet had been the feverish pre-occupation of the Russian Admiralty from the moment that the first disasters befell the Pacific Squadron at Port Arthur. Naval reinforcements were on the way, it will be remembered, at the outbreak of war, and had reached the Red Sea; but they were recalled when the news of the successful torpedo attack on the Port Arthur Fleet reached Europe. It was realized how vital must be the command of the sea to the achievement of victory; and Russia at once set about preparing an Armada which should restore to her the naval preponderance so suddenly lost. At first the intention, which was so loudly proclaimed, was not taken quite seriously; but it was decidedly encouraged as the weeks went on and as the resisting power of Port Arthur to assault gave hopes that the new fleet might still find a warm-water port to receive it. At first the departure of the Baltic Fleet was announced for June; though everyone knew the design, only formed perhaps to reassure public opinion in Russia, was incapable of fulfilment. Then June came, and the date of departure was again postponed; and in July the world was informed that there was "no hurry;" and that it had been thought advisable to "test thoroughly" the new ships and to familiarize the officers and crews with their work. All through the summer the game of fixing the day of departure and then postponing it went merrily on; but on the 15th August Admiral Rozhestvensky, on whom supreme command of the fleet had been bestowed, went on board the flagship with his staff; and received from the Port Admiral at Kronstadt by signal a formal message of farewell. But nothing more happened, except that on the 20th August it was announced that the Baltic Fleet would not leave before the 28th September.

On the 26th August the fleet went for a trial trip with the most discouraging results, for several of the new ships broke down and the battleship Orel ran aground, inflicting structural injuries on herself. Early in September there was another false alarm. Danish pilots had been procured, and on the 11th September the fleet again put to sea; but it only got as far as the port of Libau, and the next news was that it would remain there "some weeks longer" for firing practice and manœuvres. The next definite date fixed was the 7th October; but two days later than that the fleet had only got as far as Reval, where it was inspected and blessed by the Czar in person. On the 15th October, however, the long delay at last came to an end, and the fleet, consisting of thirty-six vessels, actually left Russian waters.

It is necessary now to describe the fleet in which Russia had placed so many of her hopes. The class and character of the principal vessels is best realized from a table:—

In addition to these ships there was a torpedo flotilla of 7 destroyers of 28 knots speed, and 8 torpedo-boats; the following vessels of the Volunteer Fleet: Kiev, Vladimir, Voronej (each of 10,500 tons and with a speed of 12 knots), Tambov, and Yawslar (each of 8,640 tons and with a speed of 12 knots); 13 transports armed with light guns; and a hospital ship, the Orel—not to be confused with the battleship of the same name. On paper, at least, this was a very formidable fleet; but its fighting efficiency appears much reduced on analysis. There were four modern battleships of a powerful type and of homogeneous design; but their value is much discounted by the fact that some of their consorts are distinctly less powerful; and in naval warfare the manœuvring power of a fleet becomes that of its weakest item. This was proved very signally on the occasion of the engagement between Admiral Kamimura and the Vladivostock Squadron, when the Russian cruisers Gromoboi and Rossia suffered most severely from having to stand by the Rurik, the lame duck of the squadron. The Ossliabia, it is true was not much inferior to the battleships of the Kniaz Suvaroff class. She was a sister ship to the Peresviet and Pobieda, sunk in the harbor of Port Arthur, and was launched in 1898. But the Sissoi Veliky and the Navarin both dated from 1891, and were distinctly inferior in the all-important matter of speed, even their nominal speed never having been attained. The only armored cruisers with the Baltic Fleet—the Admiral Nakhimoff and the Dmiti Donskoi—were barely entitled to their description, as they have a low speed, light armor, and comparatively small gun power. Certainly they were not fit, like the best armored cruisers of to-day, to lie in the line of battle. Some of the other cruisers were little more than armed merchantmen, and none of them were formidable warships. Another circumstance that detracted from the fighting value of this fleet was the character of the officers and crews. All Russia's best and most highly-trained sailors and marine engineers were sent out before the war to the Pacific Squadron; and she had no adequate reserve to draw on. The modern man-of-war's-man—whether he is in the engine-room or on the gun-deck—is a highly specialized product, and he cannot be turned out at a moment's notice. Stokers, artificers, engineers, as well as torpedo lieutenants, gunners, and even admirals, have to be carefully trained for years before they become efficient, and the inefficiency and inexperience of the scratch crews and raw officers put on board the Baltic Fleet was the main cause of the long delay in that fleet's departure and of the disaster that occurred immediately after the start had been made, and that nearly brought the voyage to a tragic and ignominious conclusion. When all these circumstances were taken into consideration, it became obvious that the Baltic Fleet was hopelessly inferior to the fleet which, on reaching Far Eastern waters, it would have to encounter in order to wrest from the Japanese their command of the sea. But one question, even more urgent than that of the fate which would befall the fleet on arrival, was how it was to overcome the difficulties of the voyage. Russia had no coaling stations; and coaling at sea from attendant colliers has not yet become a feasible operation for a great fleet. The larger vessels would require from 5,000 to 6,000 tons of coal each, and the smaller cruisers from 2,000 to 3,000 tons in the course of a voyage of nearly 13,000 miles, occupying at least 100 days, and very possibly 30 days more. But the coaling difficulty proved less insuperable than it had appeared, and Russia's energy and ingenuity in overcoming it were the first symptoms that she meant the Baltic Fleet to be taken seriously. Negotiations for the supply of coal were opened with English firms; but our Foreign Office ruled that such contracts would be an infringement of neutrality. The Germans, however, were much more complaisant; and their attitude of "benevolent neutrality," as Count Von Bulow called it, enabled them to meet all demands of Russia. Large orders for English coal to be delivered to German consignees at neutral ports were received at Cardiff; and this coal was then transferred to the ports at which the Baltic Fleet was to call. According to the strict interpretation of international law these facilities for coaling in port ought not to have been extended to the fleet of a belligerent. But Russia was a close neighbor of the Powers concerned, and the ally of one of them, while her enemy was a long way off; and so it happened that Admiral Rozhdestvensky suffered no more inconvenience than if he had been engaged on a yachting cruise. He and his fleet put into any port that they fancied, and stayed, practically, as long as they had a mind to!

The Baltic Fleet was divided into three divisions, and on the 16th-18th October the first division left Libau. The daring surprise attacks of the Japanese torpedo-boats at Port Arthur had filled the minds of the Russian naval authorities with every kind of misgiving; and by some means not yet disclosed, they had become possessed of the idea that the Japanese meditated an attempt on the Baltic Fleet during its passage through the narrow waters of the Danish Straits and the North Sea. Rumors of mysterious Japanese agents, endeavoring to charter vessels in obscure Danish and Norwegian ports filled the Russian newspapers. On the 14th October Admiral Wirenius, the Chief of the Russian Admiralty, solemnly declared to an interviewer that the narrow waters of the Belt and the Sound were particularly favorable for a surprise attack; that officers of the Japanese Navy were known to have left for Europe; and that there was reason to apprehend an attempt to throw mines in the track of the Russian Squadron in the Danish Straits. The state of "nerves" to which the Russian naval officers had been reduced by these apprehensions was shown when, as the Russian fleet passed through the Kattegat, an attempt was made to deliver to the Russian Admiral a cypher dispatch that had arrived from St. Petersburg. Two fishermen were sent out with the dispatch in a motor-launch, but when their vessel approached the flagship the searchlights were turned on, and blank charges fired to forbid a nearer approach. The dispatch was taken in by a boat launched by the battleship for the purpose.

On the 19th of October the first division of the fleet passed through the Kattegat; and by the 21st of October all the ships had left Danish waters and entered on their course down the North Sea. Immediately followed an occurrence almost without parallel in naval history—an occurrence that was only saved from inextinguishable ridicule and contempt by the tragic consequences which it unhappily involved. On this memorable night of Friday, the 21st of October, some fifty vessels of the Hull fishing fleet were engaged in trawling on the Dogger Bank—one of the places in the North Sea most frequented by the fishermen not only of Great Britain, but of Germany, Denmark, Holland and Norway. It is a prominent figure in all charts of the North Sea, and to every sailor and seafaring man its situation and character are perfectly familiar. The Hull fishermen, of the Gamecock and Great Northern Fleets, had their trawls down and were thus deprived of the possibility of rapid movement, when about midnight they sighted a number of warships steaming from the northeast. At first they did not suspect that it was the Russian Baltic Fleet that had come their way, because in that event the fleet must have been navigating some 40 miles out of the true course; but very soon their ignorance was enlightened. While the men were watching the passing warships, searchlights were suddenly flashed on the trawlers, and then, to the horror and amazement of these innocent fishermen engaged peaceably in their lawful occupations, a sudden storm of shot and shell broke upon them from unknown men-of-war. The steam-trawler Crane was sunk and its skipper and mate were decapitated by a shell, and all but one of the crew were injured; while the trawlers Moulmein and Mino were seriously damaged, the latter vessel having no fewer than sixteen holes in her. From the evidence given at the subsequent inquiries the following facts were elicited: All the trawlers had their own lights up—namely, a lantern showing a white light ahead, a green light on the starboard side, a red light on the port side. Several vessels also had lights in the fishing pound so that the men could work on deck. None of the trawlers were without lights. As the approaching vessels came nearer they were seen to signal to one another in a way that conveyed to the minds of the trawlers that they were warships. Some of the vessels were in advance of the others. The exact number was very difficult to tell, but in the first division there were probably four or five. They passed the trawlers to the westward, where the admiral's trawler, the Ruff, was, and to the eastward of a few of the trawlers. One of them, at any rate, showed a searchlight. They passed on, and nothing happened. It was noticed that they were signalling to the other vessels behind, and that the other vessels were repeating the signals and signalling to each other. These other vessels then came on to the eastward of the admiral's ship, Ruff, but there were trawlers on both sides of them. Then, without any warning to the trawlers, these vessels opened fire. The crews on the trawlers were at first under the impression that it was a sham fight in some manœuvres, but they soon discovered that it was live shot. Some of the warships fired from both port and starboard side. After the firing had begun, this second division of vessels came more to the west, and there were others which came down more to the east. The third division, which came furthest to the eastward, came near some of the outlying trawlers, who were more to the south and east. They turned their searchlights upon them. A great many of the trawlers, in the attempt to get away from the firing when it began, lost their trawls or damaged them.

On Sunday night, the 23rd of October, two steam trawlers, one of them flying her flag at half-mast, and both riddled with shot, entered St Andrew's Dock at Hull. Their own condition, and the lifeless and mutilated bodies that they brought with them, were ghastly confirmation of the amazing tidings that they had to tell; and next morning, not only England, but all the world, was ringing with the news of the Baltic fleet's first warlike exploit. Amazement quickly gave place to indignation—an indignation of passionate intensity; and with one voice the people of England cried aloud for retribution at any cost on the perpetrators of so wanton an outrage. Nor was this indignation confined to the countrymen of the victims. In the United States, in France, and even in Germany, unsparing reprobation of a deed so unjustifiable was freely uttered; and the belief was confidently expressed that the only possible explanation was to be found in the undiscipline and probable drunken frenzy of the Russian naval officers. Be it remembered, too, that the heinousness of the offence was infinitely increased by the fact that the Russian ships, whose commanders must have discovered their grievous blunder before leaving the neighborhood of the Dogger Bank, made no effort to ascertain the injury they had inflicted, or to render help to their innocent victims. Neither did the Russian Admiral condescend to make the least report of the circumstances. He and his fleet proceeded on their way as if the sinking of fishing-boats and the slaughtering of fishermen were too trifling an incident to engage serious attention and notice; and when the news of the outrage reached London, the Baltic Squadron had already been sighted in the Channel. No Government could sit down under such provocation as this, and the English ministers, who realized well enough the dangerous pitch to which public feeling had been wrought, lost no time in addressing the strongest demands for immediate redress to St. Petersburg, accompanied by the intimation that the situation was one not admitting of delay. Their action was emphasized by that of King Edward himself, who, in sending a subscription of 200 guineas for the relief of the sufferers, declared that he had heard with profound sorrow of the "unwarrantable action" to which the North Sea fishing-fleet had been subjected. The principal witnesses of the outrage were summoned at once to the Foreign Office, and Lord Lansdowne had long audience of the King, while the Prime Minister, who happened to be in Scotland, came back post-haste to London. On the 25th of October Count Lamsdorff, the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs, called at the British Embassy in St. Petersburg and requested the British Ambassador, Sir Charles Hardinge, to convey to King Edward and the British Government a message from the Czar, who, while he had received no message from the Admiral in command of the Baltic Fleet, could only attribute "the incident in the North Sea to a very regrettable misunderstanding". It was added that the Czar wished to express his sincere regret for the sad loss of life that had occurred, and to say that he would take steps to afford complete satisfaction to the sufferers as soon as the circumstances of the case were cleared up. These assurances, though far from adequate, would have done something to calm the temper of public opinion in England if they had been accompanied by any sign of a similar spirit in the Czar's advisers. But the latter seemed inclined to be as intractable as the Russian press was impenitent. While the Russian Government pursued a policy of delay and evasion, the Russian newspapers roundly denied that any blame attached to the Baltic Fleet, and scouted all idea of reparation; and all the time Admiral Rozhdestvensky was proceeding serenely on his voyage. On the 26th of October his battleships arrived at Vigo Harbor, where at last he took the trouble to communicate his report of what had happened to St. Petersburg. The statement is such an amazing one that it may be given in full. It was communicated to the world under the authority of the Russian Naval General Staff, and ran as follows:—

"1.—The incident in the North Sea was provoked by two torpedo-boats which, without showing any lights, under cover of darkness, advanced to attack the vessel steaming at the head of the detachment. When the detachment began to sweep the sea with its searchlights and opened fire, the presence was also discovered of several small steam vessels resembling small steam fishing-boats. The detachment endeavored to spare these boats and ceased fire as soon as the torpedo-boats were out of sight.

"The English press is horrified at the idea that the torpedo-boats of the squadron, left by detachment until the morning on the scene of the occurrence, did not render assistance to the victims. Now, there was not a single torpedo-boat with the detachment and none were left on the scene of the occurrence. In consequence, it was one of the two torpedo-boats which was not sunk, but which was only damaged, which remained until the morning near the small steam craft. The detachment did not assist the small steam craft because it suspected them of complicity, in view of their obstinate persistence in cutting the line of advance of the warships. Several of them did not show any lights at all. The others showed them very late.

"2.—Having met several hundreds of fishing-boats, the squadron showed them every consideration, except where they were in company of the foreign torpedo-boats, one of which disappeared, while the other, according to the evidence of the fishermen themselves, remained among them until the morning. They believed her to be a Russian vessel, and were indignant that she did not come to the assistants of the victims. She was, however, a foreigner, and remained until the morning looking for the other torpedo-boat, her companion, either with the object of repairing her damage or from fear of betraying herself to those who were not accomplices.

"If there were also on the scene of the occurrence fishermen imprudently involved in this enterprise, I beg, in the name of the whole fleet, to express our sincere regret for the unfortunate victims of circumstances in which no warship could, even in time of profound peace, have acted otherwise."

But before this preposterous and long-delayed explanation was vouchsafed, the British Government had taken steps to prove that they were not in the mood to be trifled with, and that the subjects of the greatest naval power in the world were not to be shot down with impunity. To the intense satisfaction of the whole nation, an instant mobilization of the British fleets in European waters was ordered. The Home Fleet, which had been cruising away to the north of Scotland, was ordered south; the Channel Fleet, lying at Gibraltar, was warned to be in instant readiness for active service; and the Mediterranean Fleet was instructed to join up with the Channel Fleet with all speed. The naval dockyards were kept working night and day to prepare the reserve fleet for commission, and to be ready for the demands which an immediate outbreak of war might involve. In forty-eight hours every requisite preparation had been completed, and three fleets, any one of them capable of dealing faithfully with Admiral Rozhdestvensky's squadron, were ready for instant action. Directly in the path of the Baltic Fleet, now assembled at Vigo, lay the Channel Fleet under the command of Lord Charles Beresford, and so acute was the crisis that it seemed as if at any moment that fleet might be ordered to take the sea. Among the secret preparations made was the dispatch of four battleships from the Channel Squadron at Gibraltar to Portland and the assembly of all available submarines at Dover. What made the situation especially dangerous was the conflict which in this hour of desperate emergency was being waged between the Russian Admiralty and the Russian Foreign Office. The former department, which had done so much to aggravate the case of the Malacca and to flout the assurances which had been given as to the withdrawal of the Petersburg and Smolensk, was now determined that no surrender should be made to the British demands for satisfaction in the matter of the North Sea outrage; and for several days the more pacific Foreign Office wrestled with these fire-eaters in vain. War between England and Russia, with the prospect of indefinite extension to other countries, seemed inevitable; but thanks largely to the friendly offices of the French Government, who, as the ally of Russia and the friend of Great Britain, had exceptional claims to act as an intermediary between the disputants, a settlement was at length arrived at. On the 28th of October, Mr. Balfour was able to announce to the world that that morning an agreement had been arrived at which averted all further apprehension of the rupture of peaceful relations. Great Britain and Russia had consented to refer the case in dispute to an impartial International Tribunal of Inquiry; the terms of the Convention, which were signed after much further negotiation on the 24th of November, being as follows:—

1.—The Commission is to consist of five members, namely, officers of Great Britain, Russia, the United States, and France. The fifth Commissioner is to be selected by agreement between them. If they cannot agree, the choice to be entrusted to the king of a country subsequently to be determined upon.

2.—The Commission is to report on all the circumstances relating to the disaster and to establish the responsibility.

4.—The parties bind themselves to supply the Commission with all necessary information, facilities, &c.

5.—The Commission is to meet at Paris as soon as possible after the signature of the Convention.

6.—The report of the Commission is to be officially communicated to the respective Governments.

Not the least interesting part of Mr. Balfour's statement was that in which he examined and dealt with the justification which Admiral Rozhdestvensky had put forward, and in particular with the allegation that the Russian fleet had been attacked by torpedo-boats. This allegation, as Mr. Balfour pointed out, involved a charge of bad faith on the part of Great Britain, and such a charge he indignantly resented. If only one torpedo-boat was sunk, what, he pertinently asked, had become of the other? The world did not require to be convinced of the essential absurdity of this story; but the Russians persisted in it with determination. The most circumstantial narratives were presently forthcoming from the four officers who had been detained to give evidence before the International Commission. One narrator stated that information of the presence of Japanese torpedo-boats in the Norway fiords, and of the Japanese having hired fishing vessels in Hull, Southampton, Hamburg, and Christiania, had been received by the Russians. He proceeded as follows: "We lodged information of the Japanese intentions with the Governments of those countries where the Japanese were making their preparations, but it was only in Denmark and Germany that we found any readiness to interfere with them.... Before leaving the Scaw the Russians received a number of alarming messages from their agents. All these messages agreed in stating that in one very deep Norwegian fiord four Japanese torpedo-boats had been seen, and that these vessels were afterwards observed a short distance to the west of the Scaw. The Russians left the Scaw in the morning, proceeding in different divisions. All the torpedo craft went on ahead, in two divisions, making for Cherbourg. Next came Admiral Folkersahm with the four older battleships making for Tangier. The small cruisers were under orders to proceed to Arosa, 40 miles north of Vigo, while the large cruisers with the transport Kamchatka, under the command of Admiral Enquist, had instructions to make for Tangier like Admiral Folkersahm.

"Last of all we put to sea with the four best battleships, Suvaroff, Alexander III., Borodino, and Orel. Our destination was Brest, where we were to coal. Observe, therefore, that there was not with us a single torpedo-boat or a single small vessel. All such were far ahead of us.... On the 8th of October, at 8 o'clock in the evening, when it was already quite dark, we received a wireless message stating that 30 miles behind us was the transport Kamchatka, which had fallen behind her consorts (the cruisers Dmitri Donskoi and Aurora) in consequence of an injury to her engines, and that several torpedo-boats were following her closely, but had not discharged any torpedoes. Admiral Enquist, who was in front with the two cruisers, was at once ordered by wireless message to slacken speed and wait for the Kamchatka, or to continue his course in order not to expose himself to the torpedo-boats, which, of course, also received our messages, but did not know from what spot they were sent. The Japanese, however, attempted to find out our whereabouts. While we were exchanging messages with the Kamchatka we suddenly received a succession of telegrams, in excellent Russian, purporting to come from the Kamchatka: 'Where is the squadron?' 'Give your latitude and longitude.' 'Where is the Suvaroff?' These telegrams appeared to us suspicious, and, in order to assure ourselves that they were really sent by the Kamchatka, instead of answering we asked for the name of one of the officers of the Kamchatka. To this no answer was returned, and we continued our conversation with the Kamchatka in cypher. At 12.55 A. M. we suddenly saw in front of us ... two long dark silhouettes, emitting quantities of smoke and evidently steaming at high speed. At the same time we saw a yellow-red rocket, such as is generally sent up by vessels in distress. A moment later a searchlight was thrown upon us from ahead.... We at once turned our searchlights on the torpedo-boats and opened fire on them. As soon as they saw that they were discovered, they turned aside, but came under the fire of the Alexander III., Borodino, and Orel, which were following us. About the same time our searchlights began to fall from time to time on some small vessels, apparently fishing craft, whose behavior, however, was very suspicious. They showed no lights, there was not a man on their decks, and they obstinately remained under the bows of our ships, barring their course. They were thus in a position to launch floating mines. In spite of this, however, the Admiral, as soon as he caught sight of them, ordered that the searchlights on board the Suvaroff should be turned skywards, which was a signal to cease firing.

"To remain where we were after the torpedo-boats had disappeared in order to aid the steamers would have been the height of imprudence. We should have risked the most formidable part of our fleet, and as there were several steamers they were in a position to aid each other. As far as could be perceived, one of the enemy's torpedo-boats was sunk."

The narrator argued that either the fishing vessels were accomplices or the Japanese took advantage of their proximity without their knowledge. He inclined to the former alternative, and asked, "Why Hull fishing boats so far from England—almost off the Danish coast?"

The best commentary on this narrative was supplied by the Russian Government themselves, who, six weeks after the North Sea outrage, published the following significant admission of facts, which had, of course, been perfectly well known to them almost from the first:—

"According to supplementary information from Admiral Rozhdestvensky concerning the North Sea incident of the 21st of October, after the Kniaz Suvaroff had ceased firing there suddenly appeared on the left of the ironclad division the two searchlights of the cruisers Dmitri Donskoi and Aurora, lighting up the division. The Dmitri Donskoi showed her night signals, whereupon for fear lest projectiles from the hindmost ships of the division should hit our own vessels, either directly or by ricochet, a general signal to cease fire was made from the ironclad Kniaz Suvaroff, and was at once carried out. The whole of the firing lasted less than ten minutes. Communications by wireless telegraph stated that five projectiles had struck the cruiser Aurora, some ricocheting and others hitting her direct. Three were 75-millimètre and two 47-millimètre shells. The chaplain was seriously injured, and a petty officer was slightly wounded. The former subsequently succumbed at Tangier."

This communication bears out the theory advanced in the first instance that the Russians in the panic had mistaken their own ships for hostile torpedo-boats, and had opened fire on the "two long, dark silhouettes emitting quantities of smoke" without stopping to ascertain what they belonged to.

After leaving Vigo, the Baltic Fleet divided into two squadrons—one proceeding down the West Coast of Africa, and the other through the Suez Canal. By the end of December (two months and a half from leaving Libau) they had completed barely one-half of their voyage; and by that time, not only was Vladivostock frost-bound, but Port Arthur was dominated by Japanese guns, and the remnants of the Pacific Fleet lay shell-riddled on the mud of the harbor. Before the International Commission of Inquiry met for business, all hope of the Baltic Fleet's achieving any serious purpose had been dissipated; for while it was still mustering at Madagascar, the news arrived that the fall of Port Arthur was at last an accomplished fact.

Progress of the Siege—Siege of Port Arthur—The Japanese Progress—The Japs Attack Metre Hill—The Russian Fleet between Two Fires—A Jap Hero—Tunnels and Hand-grenades—The Japs Capture Urlungshan—The Surrender of Port Arthur—"Great Sovereign! Forgive!"—The Japs Occupy the Fortress—Discreditable Surrender—The End of the Siege of Port Arthur.

In spite of such distractions as the campaign in Manchuria and the career of the Baltic Fleet, Port Arthur remained the real focal point of the world-wide interest which the tremendous struggle in the Far East had aroused. The progress of the siege, which had been veiled in obscurity during the earlier months of investment, owing to the severity of the censorship, was suddenly and frankly revealed to the world in the late autumn, and from that moment the salient incidents of this thrilling drama could be followed almost from day to day. Winter's icy grip, which had brought to a pause the headlong train of the campaign in Manchuria, caused no interruption to the implacable contest for mastery between the heroic troops of General Nogi and the dauntless garrison commanded by General Stoessel. Not for an instant was there the least relaxation of effort on the part of the besiegers or of endurance on the part of the besieged. Rather was the resolution of both combatants screwed to a higher pitch by the knowledge that time might be the deciding factor in the conflict. The departure of the Baltic Fleet gave General Stoessel hopes of ultimate relief as the reward for holding on, and threatened General Nogi with the stultification of all his sacrifices. With Port Arthur remaining in Russian hands, the recovery by her of the command of the sea must always be a menacing possibility for the Japanese; while the fall of Port Arthur meant not only the destruction of the last remnant of the Russian Pacific Squadron, but the loss of the only practicable base for any future naval operations. The whole Japanese plan of campaign must rest on a more or less precarious foundation as long as Russia had a fleet in being in Eastern seas, for the vital lines of sea communication must be liable to severance. With the Russian flag swept from its last refuge, Japan must remain invincible to the mightiest armies that Russia could assemble in Manchuria.

The story of the siege of Port Arthur has already been related in this narrative up to the moment immediately preceding the capture of 203-Metre Hill—an event that marked the turning-point of the whole protracted operations, and that proved to be the real beginning of the end. Before describing in detail the action that led to this signal victory for General Nogi's troops, it may be well to give a brief résumé of the situation as it then existed.

The investment may be said to have begun on June 26th, and between that date and the end of October a series of more or less desperate and costly assaults on the Russian outworks had carried the Japanese lines closer and closer to the permanent defences with which the town and the harbor of Port Arthur were secured from attack by land. In the great attacks of August 28th and September 20th, some progress was made to the east and north; but no great impression was made in the formidable chain of forts; and even on October 30th, when another assault was delivered, on the Keekwan and Urlungshan forts, the Japanese were repulsed with the loss of 2,000 men. On September 20th a determined assault had been made on 203-Metre Hill—the highest eminence of that ridge which runs between Louisa Bay on the west and the great forts, Itszshan and Antszshan, dominating the western approaches of Port Arthur. The attempt was almost successful, but not quite, and all that remained to reward the Japanese for their terrible sacrifice of life was the possession of a height, a little to the north, known as Namaokoyama, or 180-Metre Hill. This is due east of 174 Metre Hill, captured in August. At the same time the Japanese, however, succeeded in taking possession of the Sueishi lunettes, which defend the valley through which the railway runs, and of Fort Kuropatkin, which commands the water supply of Port Arthur. This was the position when, on November 26th, General Nogi ordered another assault on the fortress, with the especial object of capturing 203 Metre Hill. The possession of this height was of immense importance to the besiegers—not because it would threaten the great forts of Antszshan and Itszshan, but because it would afford a complete view of every corner of the harbor, and enable the fire of heavy guns to be directed on the last refuge of the Russian fleet. More than that, the position would command the branch line running from Port Arthur to Liau-tie-shan, whither the Russians were daily conveying stores, as if in preparation for a last stand in this inaccessible stronghold. Although not one of the permanent fortifications, the defences of 203 Metre Hill were of the most formidable kind. On the crest, and cut out of the hill itself, were two redoubts on the two distinct peaks, each mounting heavy guns, while the slopes leading up to them were traversed with trenches and wire entanglements.

After his repulse in September, General Nogi had abandoned all further attack on the west; but the importance of effecting a lodgment there, together with his equal lack of success in the east, induced him to return to his earlier plan. But this time the methods of attack were changed. To prevent the concentration of the garrison at one point, assaults were delivered simultaneously on the two opposite sides of the perimeter of defence; and, instead of trusting to the mere weight of numbers to overcome resistance, the resources of the military engineer were drawn upon to facilitate approach to the critical points. At the last assault the Japanese infantry had moved forward in close formation over the open ground separating their forming point from the trenches of the enemy, and they had been swept down in hundreds by the concentrated fire from a dozen batteries. But early in November the Japanese engineers set to work to construct parallels from the low hills at the foot of the Metre range across the intervening valley and up the southwest corner of 203 Metre Hill, dominated by that one of the twin peaks which was known as 210. To construct similar approaches on the northeast side was rendered impossible by the fire of the neighboring fort Akasakayama. On November 27th fresh troops were brought up for the attack, and a tremendous artillery fire was concentrated on the summit of the Metre ridge. Field guns, firing shrapnel, and naval guns and howitzers, firing enormous shells, poured their deadly hail on the forts and trenches; but though they diminished they could not utterly subdue the fire of the intrepid defenders, and the Japanese casualties were very heavy as soon as their devoted infantry, emerging from the parallels, endeavored to climb the steep face of the hill. But after nearly seven hours' fighting the crest was won, and the southwestern peak fell into the hands of the Japanese. This success was the signal for an immediate and determined assault upon the 203 peak, but it proved futile. A deadly fire from the neighboring forts made the retention of the southwest peak impossible for the gallant men who had won it. They were driven down to the reverse slope again, and were thus unable to assist in keeping down the fire of the garrison of 203 peak. An attack on the Akasakayama works also failed, and thus the troops assailing the northeastern face of the hill were exposed to a flank fire as well as to a direct fire from above, and were driven back with heavy loss. But the Japanese managed to retain their position just below the crest of 210, and here they constructed trenches which made the reoccupation of the summit by the enemy impossible. But the Russians still disputed possession, and the opposing forces, behind sandbag defences erected within a stone's throw of one another, maintained an incessant fight with bullets, bayonets and hand-grenades. The proximity of the combatants compelled the artillery on both sides to desist from taking part in the encounter. The Japanese guns confined themselves to shelling the crest of 203 peak and the reverse slope of 210, in order to prevent reinforcements reaching the troops that still disputed the possession of that eminence. At this moment occurred one of those tragic incidents which throw such an ironic light on the best laid schemes of generals and the noblest self-sacrifice of soldiers. A party of Japanese managed at last to establish themselves in a trench on the slope of Akasakayama; but no sooner had they attained this hard-won position than they found themselves exposed to a merciless hail of shrapnel, not from Russian guns, but from those of their own countrymen. The Japanese artillerists had not observed the lodgment that had been made in the enemy's trenches, and they persisted in their bombardment with such deadly effect that their luckless comrades were compelled to relinquish the advantage they had gained, and to make the best of their way back to the main body under a double fire. On December 1st a renewed attack on both the 210 and 203 peaks was made, but with no success; and during the next few days the Japanese engineers were busy in extending their parallels and trenches, in order to allow the assailing troops to approach close to their objective before coming under fire; and while this work was going on the Russian positions were subjected to a furious and incessant bombardment. This bombardment reached its height on the morning of the 5th, when every preparation for the renewed assault had been completed. The Metre Hill, it is said, resembled a smoking volcano under the storm of shell that burst over it. This assault was to be a supreme effort, and every Japanese soldier who took part in it was conscious of the responsibility devolving on him, as, after saluting the regimental standards, he moved forward to take his place in the ranks that lined the parallels and advanced trenches. Early in the afternoon a simultaneous rush was made towards both of the crests of the Metre range. The moment was one of acute suspense, and with breathless anxiety the Japanese staff watched the far-off line of khaki-clad figures swarming up the hillside and climbing over the breastwork of the Russian trenches. The issue was not long in doubt. Meeting with scarcely any resistance, the storming parties swept on until they reached the crest of both peaks, and found themselves at last in undisputed possession of the long-coveted position. The explanation of this unexpectedly easy victory was not far to seek. The bombardment of the previous three days had been so severe that it had been impossible for the defenders to live under it. The 500-lb. shells from the howitzers had blown the place to fragments, and except for three men taken prisoners, every soul who manned the guns and trenches had been killed or forced to fly to the forts in the rear. Torn and mutilated bodies, mingled with piles of débris, lay about in hundreds, and the scene was rendered the more appalling by the presence of corpses, in every stage of decomposition, which had been lying on the ground since the attack on September 20th. But the Japanese were not left long in undisturbed possession of the ground they had won. General Stoessel, realizing as fully as his enemy the importance of 203 Metre Hill, made desperate efforts to recapture it. Six separate counter-assaults were delivered, and for hours the fiercest and most sanguinary hand-to-hand fighting raged. But the Japanese had stronger reinforcements than their adversaries, and their numbers and gallantry prevailed at last. After losing nearly 3,000 men, the Russian General realized that the case was hopeless, and left his enemy in possession of the stricken field. Immediately their position was assured the Japanese dragged up their guns and proceeded to pound the neighboring height Akasakayama, from which the Russians were forced to retire with all speed. While this substantial and, as it turned out, decisive victory was being won in the west, an equally determined assault was proceeding in the east against the great forts of Urlungshan, Sungshushan and East Keekwanshan. The Japanese carried their parallels within charging distance of the front of the forts, and then began to mine. Having reached a point beneath the counterscarp, they exploded their mines, and then rushed into the breach thus formed. But the Russians, though losing heavily by the explosions, were prepared for the emergency. They had machine guns placed in position to command the outer defences, and the assailants only gained the breach to be mown down by a hail of bullets. In this assault the Japanese had recourse to the traditional weapon of their ancient chivalry. Under the lead of Generals Nakamura and Saito, trained bodies of swordsmen of the famous Samurai, or warrior-caste, charged into the imminent deadly breach, endeavoring to close in a desperate hand-to-hand encounter with their stubborn foe. But even the traditional gallantry of Japan's knighthood was spent in vain in this enterprise, and the parapets of the forts remained inaccessible to assault. But the Japanese, whose resource in this protracted siege had only been equalled by their indomitable determination, had by this time learned the secret of success against such tremendous fortifications as those with which Port Arthur was begirt. Since gallantry and the sacrifice of life could not prevail, patience and ingenuity must be tried, and the engineers were called upon to carry further still the sapping operations which had already breached the outer works. As in the adoption of those deadly hand-grenades, which played so important a part in all the battles of the siege, so in the construction of parallels and the tunnelling of mines the world saw a return to the practice and methods of the 17th century. To find a counterpart to these huge forts of Port Arthur, with their scarps and counter-scarps, their glacis and cuponniéres and ravelins, one has to go back to the system of the great military engineer Vanban, who carried the science of fortification to its highest perfection. There was only one assailant to which these mighty works were not impregnable—and that assailant was the explosive power of dynamite. This resistless auxiliary the Japanese made speed to enlist in their service.

Meanwhile, leaving the sappers to their insidious task on the east, the Japanese artillerists were swift to take advantage of the new position won for them on the west. From the summit of 203 Metre Hill, the whole town and harbor of Port Arthur lay revealed, and the remnant of the Russian fleet which lay sheltered there could no longer escape the searching attentions of the Japanese shells. The great howitzers, firing their 500 lb. projectiles, and the big naval guns were quickly moved into position, and, directed from the observation station on 203 Metre Hill, they began to drop shot after shot on the helpless men-of-war. So perfect was the command, that it was possible for the besiegers to count every day the hits they made, and to specify the particular ships against which they had been recorded. One after another these mighty vessels succumbed to the incessant pounding that they received, and in a few days the four battleships Retvisan, Peresviet, Pobieda and Poltava, and the armored cruiser Bayan were reported sunk or damaged so as to be unseaworthy. Only the Sevastopol remained, and she temporarily escaped to the outer roadstead, with consequences that will be related presently. These ships were the real objective of the siege. Their disablement preserved Japan from her most serious menace; but next to that consummation, their capture was a point of primary importance. The Japanese naturally desired not only to render these powerful vessels useless to their adversaries, but to make them useful to themselves. Accordingly, having made sure that the ships were injured beyond the power of the Port Arthur docks to repair them, the besiegers were careful to inflict no further damage on them. By the 12th the Japanese gunners had attained their object, and the Sevastopol was the only seaworthy survivor of the Russian squadron; and attention was forthwith turned to her from another direction. Admiral Togo, whose fleet had been cruising outside Port Arthur to shut off the natural avenue of escape for the wretched Russian fleet, now directed his torpedo-boats to attack the battleship Sevastopol as she lay at her moorings in the outer roadstead. Her position was exactly that which the whole Pacific squadron had occupied on the fateful night of February 6th, when the first stroke of war was delivered, and Russia's best two battleships were put out of action. But this time the advantage of a surprise attack was out of the question. The commander of the Sevastopol well knew what to expect, and had taken his precautions accordingly. An enormous boom had been constructed round the hull of the warship, and an elaborate system of netting had been hung from it to defy the approach of any torpedo. On the other hand, however, the fire of the shore batteries was no longer a substantial auxiliary in repelling torpedo attack; and the whole organization of the port defences was more or less impaired, if not destroyed. On the night of the 12th of December, and thrice again on the night of the 13th, the intrepid torpedo-craft of the Japanese fleet steamed into the roadstead and fired their terrible engines of destruction at the ill-fated battleship. But the boom proved on these occasions an impenetrable defence; so the attack was again renewed—this time in a blinding snowstorm. Two flotillas were engaged. The one lost its direction owing to the snow and the glare of the enemy's searchlights; but the second flotilla reached its mark, and discharged torpedoes at the Sevastopol, on which at least two took effect. The boats became separated in the storm, and one never returned to the main fleet—being either sunk by a shot or swamped by the very high seas that were running. To add to the difficulty of the enterprise, the weather was bitterly cold, and the decks of the vessels were coated with ice from the freezing of the spray that broke over them. When morning broke, those who had been engaged in this desperate enterprise were rewarded by the sight of the Sevastopol perceptibly down at the stern. A few days later the vessel was so disabled that she had to be run aground. The spirit in which this daring attack was carried out may be gathered from the following extracts from Admiral Togo's official dispatches:—

"While retreating, one torpedo boat was struck several times. Her commander, Lieutenant Nakahara, and five other men were killed. The boat lost her freedom of motion, and Lieutenant Nakahara's boat went to the rescue. Notwithstanding a heavy fire, she continued her effort to save the disabled vessel. When she had her in tow, the hawser was severed by the enemy's shells, and Lieutenant Nakahara's boat was also hit, and one man killed. Subsequently several shells hit and almost disabled Lieutenant Nakahara's boat, and forced him to abandon his sister ship, which was in a sinking condition. Lieutenant Nakahara, however, steamed back and rescued the crew, who were abandoning the boat. Commander Kawase's boat, of the same flotilla, was struck by a shell, which killed one man and wounded Lieutenant Takahashi and two sailors. Lieutenant Shoro's boat was also hit, one man being killed and five wounded. The boat was temporarily disabled, but the ships commanded by Lieutenants Wataehe and Mori stood by her and rescued all the men. The other vessels, bravely facing the enemy's fire, succeeded in delivering their attacks without sustaining damage.... It is a source of satisfaction that our torpedo attacks were delivered without the least confusion; each boat rendered material assistance to her comrades. The skill in manœuvring and the bravery displayed by our officers and men inspire me with a deep feeling of satisfaction and confidence."

Commander Yezoe's flotilla was under repairs when the attack was planned. He succeeded in putting one of his torpedo-boats into fighting condition, and steamed to the rendezvous, where he found that the other flotillas had already left. His entreaty that he should be permitted to join in the attack was granted, and steaming alone through the blinding snow, he succeeded in locating the Sevastopol. Approaching close enough to hear the Russians talking, he fired a torpedo, and then, going in still closer, he discharged another torpedo at the battleship. A shell from the Sevastopol struck Commander Yezoe in the abdomen, and cut his body in two. His remains were saved and brought back to the fleet.

The complete destruction or disablement of the remnant of the Russian fleet seems to have had a dispiriting effect, as well it might have, on the defenders of Port Arthur, for from this moment the vigor of their resistance to assault perceptibly waned. In proportion the confidence and resolution of the Japanese increased, and before long their unremitting exertions were rewarded with another substantial success. Hitherto their assaults on the eastern defences of Port Arthur had met with but little success. In spite of all their sacrifices the great permanent forts stood firm; but by the middle of December their new methods of sapping and mining achieved the long-desired breach in the iron ring, and East Keekwanshan fort was captured. A mine had been tunnelled right up to the parapet of the fort, and in the afternoon of December 18th the mine was exploded, bringing down an avalanche of earth and masonry that filled up the ditch in its fall, and made a rude but practicable staircase up the deep counter-scarp into the interior of the fort. The Japanese troops, lying ready in their trenches, sprang forward to the breach before the garrison could recover from the discomfiture of the explosion, and poured into the inner works, flinging their terrible hand-grenades at all who opposed their impetuous charge. But after the first surprise, the Russians recovered and stood their ground, and by turning machine guns on the assailants, held them for a time at bay. While the issue still hung in the balance, however, General Samejuna, at the head of the Japanese reserves, flung himself into the fighting line, and a last great charge swept the fort clear of its dogged defenders. The fight lasted for no less than ten hours, and immediately it was won the Japanese entrenched themselves to make their hold secure. The attack, in this case, was entrusted to two bodies of volunteers, who, in calm anticipation of their probable fate, had fastened to their clothing badges of identification, so that the corpses should be recognizable in spite of the disfiguring effects of the explosion of hand-grenades. One-half of these devoted men charged from their trenches too eagerly after the mine had been fired, with the result that most of them were buried beneath the falling debris. The nature and extent of the mining operations which made the capture of East Keekwanshan practicable may be gathered from the fact that two tunnels 40 feet long had been dug out, and that both tunnels terminated in four branches, in each of which a separate mine was laid. Four quick-firers, five field guns, and four machine guns, and a large quantity of rifles and ammunition, were among the spoils that fell to the victors in this assault. Only twenty men of the garrison escaped down a covered way, which they blocked behind them by the explosion of mines. The fort captured, though not one of the strongest of those on the eastern ridge, was yet of great importance to the besiegers, because it opened the way to the greater forts beyond, and this success was speedily followed by others on the other side of Port Arthur. Operating between Pigeon Bay and the Metre range, the Japanese captured several minor heights on which the Russians had mounted guns. Thus they continued to advance steadily to the isolation of the western defences; and the only comfort which the anxious authorities in St. Petersburg could enjoy was that to be derived from a dispatch of General Kuropatkin, in which the Commander-in-Chief in Manchuria announced that, according to Chinese reports, the garrison of Port Arthur had recaptured 203 Metre Hill, "with the guns placed there by the enemy." The Chinese do nothing by halves, not even lying.

Undismayed by this announcement, the Japanese continued their investment with increasing severity, and on December 28th, or four weeks after the capture of 203 Metre Hill, they achieved the great triumph of wresting the mighty Urlungshan from its stubborn defenders. This, the greatest and most formidable of all the eastern forts of Port Arthur had defied many previous assaults, and had cost the army of the Mikado many hundreds of gallant lives. But like the northern fort of East Keekwanshan, it succumbed to the irresistible persuasion of dynamite. At 10 o'clock in the morning of December 28th, the mine which had been laid beneath the parapet was exploded, and the Japanese rushed in through the breach. Under the cover of artillery fire from the rear, the assaulters then constructed defensive works; and having thus established themselves and received reinforcements, they rushed forward again and captured the heavy guns of the fort. From this point another charge had to be made before the defenders could be driven out completely; but by half-past seven in the evening the task was accomplished, and the whole fort was in the hands of the Japanese, whose losses amounted to at least 1,000 men. The spoils included four big guns, seven smaller guns, thirty quick-firers, and two machine guns. The tunnels for the mines which were exploded under the parapet had to be cut through the solid rock, and no less than two tons of dynamite was used for the exploding charge. The result was that half the garrison of 500 men were killed on the spot. Next to the great Urlung fort, Sungshushan was the most formidable permanent work on the eastern ridge, and three days later this fell to the Japanese in much the same way. On the morning of the last day of the expiring year, dynamite mines were exploded beneath the parparet of the fort, and within an hour the whole fort was in the secure possession of the Japanese. Over 300 of the defenders were entombed in one of the galleries by the explosion, and of these only a half were rescued by the victors, the remainder perishing miserably. Other forts in the immediate vicinity fell almost immediately afterwards, and it became evident that the whole of the forts on the eastern ridge were practically doomed. Nothing now could stay the victorious onslaught of the Japanese, and the capitulation of Port Arthur, which but a little while before had seemed so remote and conjectural, now loomed in the immediate future. But even yet the world was hardly prepared for the end which was imminent. Up to the last, General Stoessel's dispatches had been confident and defiant, and it was thought to be quite likely that even yet he would reveal some hitherto unsuspected resources.

In his somewhat rhetorical dispatches to the Czar, General Stoessel had repeatedly declared his determination to fight to the death, and although the signal successes of the Japanese during the month of December had evidently reduced very largely the resisting power of the garrison, the general expectation was that the hopeless struggle would still be carried on, and that Stoessel and his troops would in the last resort retire to the fastnesses of Liau-tie-shan. While deprecating this desperate counsel, as involving the useless shedding of blood, the world would have applauded its heroism. But as it happened, other counsels prevailed. On the morning of the first day of the new year General Nogi received a letter from General Stoessel proposing negotiations for capitulation, and the proposal was immediately accepted. But operations were not at once suspended. The Japanese attacked the same morning the Fort of Wantai on the East Ridge, and captured it after only slight resistance, while several of the forts in the vicinity were blown up by the defenders. In further recognition of the fact that all was lost save honor, the Russians then proceeded to explode mines on all the warships in the harbor, in order to ensure that they should be useless to the enemy into whose hands they were about to fall. Of the destroyer flotilla, only four vessels remained serviceable. These put to sea on the night of January 1st, and, managing to evade the blockading squadron, reached Chifu, where they were immediately dismantled. Then at last a truce was proclaimed, and for the first time for six long months the thunder of the great guns rolled no longer about Port Arthur. Immediately news of the proposed surrender was received in St. Petersburg, the Mikado magnanimously expressed his high appreciation of the loyalty and endurance displayed by General Stoessel on behalf of his country, and gave orders that all the honors of war should be extended to him.

On January 2nd the capitulation agreement was signed, its essential terms being as follows:—

The whole fortress, ships, arms, ammunition, military buildings, materials and other Government property were to be surrendered. The Japanese reserved free action if those objects were considered to have been destroyed or injured after the signing of the agreement. Plans of forts, torpedoes, mines, military and naval officers' lists, &c. were to be delivered over. Soldiers, sailors, volunteers and other officials were to be taken prisoners, but, in consideration of the brave defences they had made, military and naval officers and civil officials attached were to be allowed to bear arms, keep their private property of immediate necessity of daily life, and also to return to Russia upon parole not to take, till the end of the war, arms or action opposed to Japan's interest. Forts Itszshan, Antszshan and the others outstanding were to be surrendered to the Japanese before noon, January 3rd, as a guarantee.

The whole world was filled with sympathy and admiration for the gallant soldiers whose valor and endurance had withstood so long such heavy odds and such a fearful strain. These feelings were intensified by the lurid accounts which, now that concealment could no longer be of service, were published of the awful sufferings of the garrison during the later stages of the siege. An officer of one of the destroyers that escaped to Chifu on January 1st thus described the conditions which had compelled surrender:—

"Port Arthur falls of exhaustion—exhaustion not only of ammunition but also of men. The remnant left was doing heroes' work for five days and five nights, and yesterday it had reached the limit of human endurance. In the casemates of the forts one saw everywhere faces black with starvation, exhaustion and nerve strain. You spoke to them and they did not answer, but stared dumbly in front of them. Lack of ammunition alone would not have prompted any attempt to arrange terms. Lack of ammunition has been common in the fortress during the past months. Many forts had nothing with which to return the fire of the enemy. The Russians sat in the casemates firing no more than one shot to the Japanese 200. Then, when the assault came, they repulsed the enemy with the bayonet. But the men themselves, feeding for three months on reduced rations, were so worn that it is marvelous that they stood the final strain so long."

In his last dispatches, written just before the capitulation, General Stoessel himself said:—

"The position of the fortress is becoming very painful. Our principal enemies are scurvy, which is mowing down the men, and 11-inch shells, which know no obstacle and against which there is no protection. There only remains a few persons who have not been attacked by scurvy. We have taken all possible measures, but the disease is spreading. The passive endurance of the enemy's bombardment with 11-inch shells, the impossibility of reply for want of ammunition, the outbreak of scurvy, and the loss of a mass of officers—all these causes diminish daily the defence.

"The tale of losses of higher officers is an indication of the enormous losses which we have sustained. Of ten generals, two, Kondrachenko and Tserpitsky, have been killed; one, Raznatovsky, is dead; two are wounded, myself and General Nadeine; and one Gorbatovsky, is suffering from contusions. The percentage of other superior officers who were killed or died of disease or were wounded several times is enormous. Many companies are commanded by ensigns, and on an average each company is at present composed of not more than sixty men."

It was stated that of the original garrison of 35,000 men, no less than 11,000 had been killed, while 16,000 were sick or wounded, and 8,000 remained in the forts, of whom, however, 2,000 were unable to fight.

These are the words in which General Stoessel announced to the Czar the surrender of Russia's "impregnable stronghold":—

"Great Sovereign! Forgive! We have done all that was humanly possible. Judge us, but be merciful. Eleven months of ceaseless fighting have exhausted our strength. A quarter only of the defenders, and one-half of these invalids, occupy twenty-seven versts of fortifications without support and without intervals for even the briefest repose. The men are reduced to shadows."

Even the Japanese were at first impressed with the same view of the situation, for they reported that of 25,000 combatants, 20,000 were sick or wounded.

The greatest good feeling prevailed between the two armies after the surrender had been completed. The soldiers fraternized freely, and the Japanese did all in their power to deprive the situation of all trace of humiliation for their vanquished enemy. General Stoessel and General Nogi lunched together and exchanged fraternal compliments, but the bearing of the two men was strongly contrasted. There was a note of theatricality in the Russian's conduct which was significant. Having mounted his favorite charger and shown its paces to the Japanese victor, he begged to be allowed to present it to him—a proposal which General Nogi put by with the matter-of-fact observation that the horse already belonged to the Japanese Army, and that he could not accept it as a personal gift. But still all the world rang with praises of the heroic Russian garrison; and the German Emperor, with characteristic impetuosity, constituted himself a sort of supreme umpire, and with a great flourish of trumpets presented to the leaders of the two contesting forces in this historic siege the Prussian Order, "Pour le Merite." The Russians marched out of Port Arthur on the 7th of January, and the Japanese entered on the following day; and then the reports as to the condition of Port Arthur suddenly underwent a remarkable change. It slowly leaked out that the surrendered force amounted not to 20,000, most of whom were hors de combat from wounds or disease, but to 48,000, of whom 878 officers and 32,000 men were still available for the defence of the fortress. There were also discovered no less than 80,000 tons of coal and enough rice and flour to provision the garrison for two months. The troops, moreover, discovered no sign of starvation or exhaustion. They were found to be in splendid condition and well fed. Even the ammunition was very far from being exhausted. For the guns in the forts 82,670 rounds remained; 30,000 kilogrammes of powder; and 2,266,800 cartridges for rifles. "There are no signs of privation," wrote one correspondent. "The surrender is inexplicable." The town itself showed few signs of bombardment; and the only serious deficiency in stores was in meat and medical comforts. Then the sinister report came that the real weakness of the garrison was in the conduct of many of the regimental officers, who habitually applied for leave when attacks were expected, and left the command to sergeants. It was also declared that General Stoessel, far from having been coerced by his staff into surrender, had himself overridden their protests against capitulation. The real hero of the siege, it appeared from the same account, was not General Stoessel at all, but General Kondrachenko, who was killed by a shell on December 18th. After that calamity the spirits of the garrison never recovered. One of the Russian Admirals who was made prisoner at Port Arthur is responsible for this version of the facts, and his view was summarized in the following words: "It is difficult for a Russian officer to talk about the end. It was worse than a mistake, it was a disgrace. The fortress could easily have held out another month. We had food and ammunition sufficient for that period, and if Kondrachenko had been alive we should have held out for months longer. In Kondrachenko the garrison lost not only a leader, but the one man who had the power, through his tremendous earnestness, to control General Stoessel."

This view, startling and disconcerting as it is, was strongly confirmed by Dr. Morrison, the famous Peking correspondent of the London Times, to whom special facilities for inspecting Port Arthur were afforded immediately after the surrender had taken place. He was immensely impressed with the stupendous strength of the positions held by the Russians, and of the incredible heroism displayed in their capture, but he could find no explanation for the surrender. There were, he said, 25,000 able-bodied soldiers, and several hundred officers unscathed by wound or disease. Only 200 officers were killed all through the siege, and of those found in hospital a number were undoubted malingerers. As to the failure of ammunition, Dr. Morrison pointed out that thousands of rounds were fired off aimlessly for two days before the surrender, that thousands more were thrown into the harbor, and that yet a large quantity was found in store by the Japanese. The largest of the naval magazines was discovered "full to the roof" with all kinds of ammunition. Food was plentiful and the new town was uninjured by bombardment.

"Those who have witnessed the condition of the fortress," Dr. Morrison summed up, "contrasting the evidence of their eyes with the astounding misrepresentations of General Stoessel, had their sympathy turned into derision, believing that no more discreditable surrender has been recorded in history."

If it is difficult to disbelieve statements of this kind coming from several independent and well-accredited sources, it is painful to have to accept them. But whatever record leap to light, nothing can detract from the splendid gallantry and dogged tenacity of the Russian common soldiers who fought in a manner worthy of the greatest traditions of their race. Thanks to their qualities, such a redoubtable foe as the Japanese had been held at bay for six months, and his victory had only been obtained at a cost of life truly appalling. Officially the casualties of the besieging army were put at 55,000 from first to last; but this number was probably very largely exceeded. Heavy as was the price that had been paid, however, it was not too heavy for the advantage obtained. First there was the satisfaction to the national sentiment of pride in recapturing the fortress which, after having once been won by force of arms, had been filched away by diplomatic intrigue. Next there was the wresting from the enemy of the emblem of his dominion in the Far East, and the only base on which his naval power could rest. The loss of Port Arthur was to Russia not only the loss of a great fortress but the denial of all access to the sea. Finally, and most immediately important, was the capture in a more or less battered condition, of five battleships and two first-class cruisers, which might at any time have helped to turn the balance of naval power against Japan. An examination of the derelict warships revealed the fact that in spite of all the hammering they had received, four might possibly be repaired and added to the navy of Japan. The Sevastopol, the Retvisan, and the Pobieda were injured beyond hope; but the Peresviet, the Poltava, the Pallada and the Bayan were possibly recoverable. So ended one of the most memorable sieges in the history of the world—to prove that, in spite of all the inventions of scientific warfare, no defences that can be constructed by man are impregnable to man when he unites, like the Japanese soldier, the qualities of fearlessness, discipline, patriotism and high-training.

AFTER TWELVE MONTHS.

The battle of the Sha-Ho, October 10 to 18, began by a Russian advance, but ended in a victory for Japan. The rival armies then settled down into winter quarters, and, save for an occasional skirmish, remained quiet until the end of January, when the Russians made a futile attempt to turn the Japanese left at Sandepu. The siege of Port Arthur, meantime, was carried on vigorously. High Hill (203 Metre Hill) was captured on November 30, East Keekwan Fort on December 18, and Erlungshan ten days later. On the last day of the year Sungshushan was taken, and on January 1 the fortress surrendered.

The shaded portion shows the Japanese advance.

End of First Year—Changes of a Year—Year of Disaster for Russia—The Cause of the War—Japan Acts Swiftly—The Land Campaign—Battle of Liao-yang—Battle of Sha-ho River—The Naval Campaign—Vladivostock Ships Defeated—Siege of Port Arthur—Port Arthur Surrendered—A Campaign Analysis—Gaining Mastery of Sea—Japan's Main Ambition—The Rival Armies—The Cost in Men—The Cost in Dollars—The Cost in Ships—International Incidents—Lessons of the War—Chronology of the First Year of War.

At this point it may be well to pause long enough to review briefly and summarize what had been accomplished in a year of the most tremendous fighting the world has ever known. One year of the Japan-Russia War had gone into history. On February 5, 1904, diplomatic relations between the two nations came suddenly to an end. On February 7, Japan seized Masanpho, Korea, as a military base, and on February 8 and 9 were delivered Togo's memorable blows to the Russian Asiatic fleet at Port Arthur. Thus the curtain went up on what since has proved one of the world's greatest war dramas.

The record had been one of uninterrupted triumph for Japan. The year had yielded a score of battles, of greater or less importance. The story of each had been defeat for Russia. Judged by the objects for which Japan entered the struggle, her task was practically complete. But Russia, humbled again and again, remained obdurate. The war was not ended and could not be ended, declared those who seemed to speak with authority, until the tide had turned and Russia was mistress of the East, as she believed herself a year before.

A year before Russia in addition to her own vast Siberian territory across all of Asia to the Pacific, was lessee of Port Arthur and the extremity of the Liaotung promontory. Port Arthur had been rebuilt and fortified, and the investments plus the value of the fleet in its harbor was fully $270,000,000. Dalny had been built and fortified as an auxiliary harbor to accommodate developing commerce. Here $100,000,000 had been expended. From these vantage points Russia looked out over China and Japan and claimed dominance over the Orient. Her fleet stood sponsor for the claim. For the defenses of Port Arthur impregnability was claimed. It seemed that the Slav had completed a peaceable conquest and was immovably intrenched, invulnerable against war, irresistible for commercial gain.

Further eastward her agents had penetrated to the northern boundaries of Korea. Slowly the Slav with his land-thirst was learning to covet the Hermit Kingdom. Commercial domination, political preponderance, each spreading in force and effectiveness, marked the first steps in this direction.

This was a year before. A year later Japan's flag was flying over Port Arthur and Dalny. Russia's fleet was destroyed. Her armies had been driven step by step northward 250 miles to the Sha-ho River. Japan was master in Korea. A protectorate had been firmly established, and Russia's dream of predominance there had probably been dissipated for all time. Japan's fleet was supreme in the Orient. With Russia's covetous eyes no longer looking out from Golden Hill toward Pekin, toward Seoul, toward Tokio, Japan had come into her own again.

This was the situation as the first year of the war drew to a close. Japan's task, on the face of it, seemed accomplished.

Russia's aggressive policy in Manchuria and growing prestige in Korea alarmed Japan. Events which in February, 1904, culminated in war began ten years before when Port Arthur, won by Japan from China, was wrested away and returned to China by intervention of the Powers, notably Russia. The leasing of Port Arthur and vicinity to Russia and the granting of railroad concessions completed the wrong which rankled in the heart of Japan. Finally the Mikado's Government proposed to Russia a settlement by diplomacy of questions of paramountcy and trade privileges in Manchuria and Korea. Japan proffered recognition of paramountcy in Manchuria for Russia in return for preponderance by Japan in Korea. The "open door" in each territory was proposed with right of railroad extension through Korea to join the Manchurian and thence the Siberian roads.

Russia refused to discuss her attitude in Manchuria and juggled with words relating to Korea. Negotiations ended when it became obvious that Japan's demands were not to be granted.

War was the alternative, and Japan acted swiftly. On February 8 and 9, at Port Arthur and Chemulpo, the Japanese navy dealt the first blows. Korea was invaded by an army at once, and the march to the Yalu was begun. Manchuria was invaded after the victory at the Yalu of May 1. A dual campaign from that moment was developed. The supreme object was the capture of Port Arthur. To facilitate that task the Russian armies in Manchuria were prevented from marching to the relief of the garrison there. Blow after blow was administered by the Japanese armies, culminating in the great battles of Liaoyang and the Sha-ho River, each a disastrous defeat for the Russians, each to be numbered among the greatest military struggles of history.

Chronologically, the battle succeeding that of the Yalu, May 1, was fought at Pitsewo, May 5. Here the second Japanese army defeated the only Russian force opposing an advance on Port Arthur, until at Nanshan Hill and Kinchow, May 26-27, the garrison of the fortress was encountered in its outermost position. After the defeat at Nanshan Hill the Russians withdrew to the outer perimeter of Port Arthur, giving up Dalny without a struggle. At Vafangow, June 14-15, the Russian General Stackelberg, who had been sent southward by General Kuropatkin to raise the siege at Port Arthur, was defeated. His retreat northward amounted practically to a rout. The Japanese victory, as succeeding events proved, completely isolated Port Arthur, its defenders and the besiegers, and the great drama of the siege went on without even an attempt at interference on the part of Russia's Manchurian army.

The Japanese fought a brilliant campaign of a score of battles between June 17 and July 31, which compelled the concentration of the Russians at Liaoyang, and precipitated the great battle there. Motien Pass was taken by General Kukori on June 17.

On June 30-31, after a tremendous struggle in the mountainous region southeast from Liaoyang, Yangze Pass, likewise, was captured. The Japanese armies, through these defiles poured into the vast basin drained by the Liao River, and at Haicheng dealt Kuropatkin a severe blow, which drove his lines northward to Liaoyang and compelled the evacuation of Niuchwang.

Haichang was a prelude to Liaoyang. After fierce fighting, the actual struggle before this strongly fortified position began on August 25. The Japanese army numbered 200,000 men against a probable 165,000 Russians. Generals Oku and Nodzu delivered fierce and incessant frontal attacks from the south, while General Kuroki made a wide turning movement north to encircle Kuropatkin and to cut off his retreat to Mukden. The Russian General ultimately was compelled to meet this turning movement by withdrawing his entire army across the Taitse River, abandoning Liaoyang to the Japanese. General Kuroki was checked and the Russian army was extricated from a grave predicament in a masterly manner after a memorable retreat and rearguard battle of more than fifty miles. The battle had been designed as a crushing blow to the Russians, and would have proved such had Kuroki's turning movement been completely successful. As it turned out the Japanese had won a costly but indecisive victory. The Japanese losses are estimated at 30,000 men. The Russian losses were about 20,000 men.

General Kuropatkin fell back to Mukden and there rested and reinforced his army. On October 4, he began a forward movement against the Japanese, which resulted in a new disaster to his army, the battle of Sha-ho River, October 8-18. The result of this long, sanguinary struggle was again highly indecisive. The Russian advance was checked at the Yentai mines, and thereafter Kuropatkin was forced step by step to the Sha-ho River. After ten days of battle human endurance reached its limit. Almost face to face, the exhausted armies halted. Subsequently the opposing lines stretched out along a line, generally northeast-southwest, for a distance of forty-five miles. The Russian army was reinforced to about 250,000 men, while the Japanese army numbered perhaps 300,000 men with reinforcements from Japan and from Port Arthur.

The opening of the war found the effective ships of Russia's Asiatic fleet divided among Port Arthur, Vladivostock and Chemulpo. In the battle of Chemulpo, February 8-9, the Variag and Korietz were sunk, narrowing naval interest to Port Arthur and Vladivostock. On August 10 was fought the greatest naval battle of the war. The Russian fleet off Port Arthur was defeated and dispersed, and Vice-Admiral Witoft was killed on the bridge of the Czarevitch. The fragment of the fleet which returned to Port Arthur never again assumed the aggressive, while from that date until the surrender of the fortress Togo's squadron had only blockade duty.

Other naval operations there consisted of desperate dashes to the harbor entrance by Japan's smaller craft and the sinking of merchant ships in the entrance to the harbor. A sortie by Admiral Makaroff resulted only in the flight of the Russians to port without giving battle. The disaster to the Petropavlovsk happened just as the flag ship sped under the guns of Tiger's Tail and Golden Hill. Japanese credited the destruction of the ship to their mine-laying operations.

The Vladivostock squadron was defeated August 14 in the Sea of Japan. The cruiser Rurik was sunk. The two other ships of the squadron ultimately reached Vladivostock riddled with shells. Repairs were said to have been completed. A renewal of the naval campaign would probably involve an attack on the sole survivors of the Russian fleet. A final naval engagement was the sinking of the cruiser Novik, of the Port Arthur Squadron, which escaped after the battle of August 10. Cruisers of Kamimura's squadron overtook her off Kamchatka, and the ship was beached there, a complete wreck after a fourteen hours' battle. The last act of the naval campaign was the destruction of the Russian battleship Sevastopol outside the harbor of Port Arthur. The Sevastopol took refuge under the Tiger's Tail. Repeated dashes were made by Japanese torpedo boat flotillas and the ship was riddled. Her final destruction, however, was accomplished by the Russians, who mined the ship to prevent possibility of salvage on the fall of Port Arthur.

Japan's greatest and only decisive achievement had been the taking of Port Arthur. The investment and actual opening of the siege began May 30, when the Japanese occupied Dalny, with their lines spreading westward to Louisa Bay, completely across the Liao-tung Peninsula. Between May 30 and November 30 the Japanese were engaged in taking position from which the attack on the main defenses of the fortress could be directed. It was tedious work. Probably between 30,000 and 40,000 Japanese lives were sacrificed. In the meantime Fort Kuropatkin, an outer defense north of the Urlung Mountain group of forts, had been captured, while on the west the Japanese, after tremendous efforts, had stormed and taken 203-Metre Hill. The final assault was delivered from saps which had been driven through limestone, up the steep slopes of the hill, a task of enormous difficulty which compelled the victors to share laurels with the engineers who at prodigious cost in men and labor made the assault possible. The capture of 203-Meter Hill gave the Japanese an observatory which looked down on most of Port Arthur. Their artillery, largely 11-inch howitzers, no longer fired at random. Sighting was scientifically directed from the vantage point. Within a week the entire Russian fleet had been destroyed and the whole city lay at the mercy of the irresistible 11-inch shells flung over the mountains with unerring aim.

From Fort Kuropatkin on the north the miner and sapper honeycombed the mountain sides with zig-zag trenches, which inched toward the crests, slowly, indeed, but surely. Outer works, one after the other, fell, and higher and higher the Japanese lines crept upward toward the fort-crowned summits. The climax came December 30. Vast mines under the main Urlungshan fort were fired. Before the smoke cleared the Japanese were flinging themselves over the shattered walls. In one grand climax to all the bloody work of the siege they annihilated the defenders of the fort and finally flung their flag from its battlements. With Urlungshan on the north and 203-Metre Hill on the west in their hands, Port Arthur lay completely at the mercy of the besiegers. The entire northeastern groups of forts fell in a day.

Then came the end. On January 2, General Stoessel surrendered Port Arthur to General Nogi. The city, forts and fleet, represented a value of $270,000,000. The cost of the siege to Japan was $100,000,000. More than 30,000 men were killed, while 70,000 who fell, wounded, increased Japan's casualties to 100,000 men. Russia's original garrison of 38,000 men was cut down during the eight months by 11,500 killed and 17,500 wounded.

The terms of the surrender were deemed liberal. All officers were offered freedom in return for their parole. Others were taken to Japan as prisoners of war.

Following the movements of the Japanese armies and fleets, it was easy to recognize the objects in view from the start, and to see that the campaign had been conducted with singular fidelity to the plan adopted at the beginning. The results were quite as complete as could reasonably have been looked for. There can be no doubt that a year before Russia had no serious thought of war; her policy was clearly one of bluff and diplomatic evasion and delay. With great foresight the Japanese Government had seen that war was inevitable and the sooner it came the better would be the position of Japan in the struggle for supremacy in the East. Her preparations had been made as carefully and completely as those of Bismarck when he chose his time to force war upon Louis Napoleon; and she moved with even greater celerity and skill than the Germans showed in the attack upon France.

Japan's initial problem was to gain the mastery of the sea at the outset as an absolute essential; without it the employment of land forces would either be impossible or carried on at an enormous and perhaps fatal risk in the transportation of troops from the Japanese islands to the mainland Asia, or in supplying and reinforcing them when landed. The sea must be cleared of hostile warships before the war could really begin; and the complete success with which this problem was solved at surprisingly small cost rivals the brilliant achievements of the British navy which deprived the first Napoleon of any chance of success in war outside the European mainland, ruined his campaign in Egypt and made hopeless an attack upon the British Islands.

Reviewing the results of the whole campaign, we can see that the main objective was the capture of Port Arthur; this largely from the military point of view, still more largely from the standpoint of sentiment, national pride, prestige with the world at large, and from considerations of statecraft. Japan had taken Port Arthur once before, from China, and was obliged to relinquish it to Russia. Its recapture this time no doubt meant more to the Mikado's subjects than any other result of the war; whatever else might happen, that was triumph enough.

To the outside world Japan could hardly present a more striking proof of her prowess than the reduction of this fortress supposed to be impregnable; while in the final settlement at the end of the war its possession would mean an immensely important diplomatic point of vantage. From the strictly military viewpoint, the loss of Port Arthur took away from Russia the only hope of an effective naval base to which her Baltic fleet could safely resort, and from which she might hope to rebuild her shattered sea power. Vladivostock being manifestly ineffective, from its position to the north of Japan, as well as because it is ice-bound during a great part of the year. Oyama's campaign is thus seen to have been chiefly to give General Nogi a free hand at Port Arthur, keeping Kuropatkin well away from the chance of relieving the fortress. If the Russian army could be destroyed or seriously crippled, so much the better; but Oyama had evidently been quite content to take no risk of disaster to himself by trying to do too much.

This seems to explain the apparent slowness and the ineffectiveness of his movements at times. He seems to have been satisfied to keep Kuropatkin simply in a position where he could do nothing to raise the siege of Port Arthur.

The avowed purpose of Japan in beginning war was simply to drive Russia out of the Chinese dominions, which it had agreed to evacuate in the autumn of 1903, but had failed to carry out the agreement. The first year of war ended with the accomplishment of that purpose in as forward a state as could have been reasonably expected.

It is estimated that during the year Japan in all has had 490,000 fighting men in her armies and navy. Of these 100,000 invested, besieged and captured Port Arthur. Three hundred thousand made up the armies in Manchuria. Sixty thousand are along lines of communication and in garrison at strategic points, while naval forces at bases and with the fleets numbered about 30,000. On land Japan's united armies were commanded by Field Marshal Marquis Oyama, while right, centre and left—each a completely organized army—were commanded respectively by Generals Kuroki, Nodzu and Oku.

The Port Arthur army, then dwindled from 100,000 men to a mere garrison and police force, was commanded by General Nogi.

The united Russian armies were commanded by General Kuropatkin. Prominent divisional leaders were Generals Stakelberg, Gripenberg, Linevitch and Mistchenko, the latter commanding the Cossack forces. Port Arthur was defended by General Stoessel, then homeward bound on parole to undergo court-martial, though commanding the world's admiration for the defense of Port Arthur.

At sea Admiral Togo and Vice-Admiral Kamimura had led the Japanese fleets to uninterrupted victory. Russia's naval commanders had been Vice-Admirals Makaroff, Wirenius and Witzhdoft, while Rear Admiral Rozndestvensky commanded the Baltic squadron.

The year's fighting had been enormously costly in men, and only estimates could be given. The total number of killed was estimated at 125,000, of whom 65,000 were Japanese and 60,000 were Russians. The wounded numbered approximately 265,000, and with the missing the total casualties were swelled to 400,000 men. Of the wounded a very large percentage recovered. The Japanese losses exceeded the Russian, particularly at Port Arthur and in the battle of Liaoyang, the Russians being protected by fortifications which the Japanese attacked from the open. At the battle of the Sha-ho River the casualties were nearly even, the armies fighting under the same conditions. The accuracy of the Japanese artillery and rifle fire is accountable for the fact that the Russian loss is not far less, proportionately.

Of casualties among her more prominent leaders, Japan has been remarkably free, while Russia has suffered heavily. Among her fallen leaders were Generals Rutkozsky, Krondrachenko, said to have been the real defender of Port Arthur, and General Count Kellar. Admiral Makaroff went down with the Petropavlovsk at the entrance to the harbor of Port Arthur; Admiral Witoft was killed on his flagship in the naval battle of August 10. A loss in which all the world shared was that of the Artist Vassili Verestchagin, who perished with Makaroff on the Petropavlovsk.

The actual outlay of both nations for the first year of the war was about $800,000,000. Russian expenses were $500,000,000 and Japan's $350,000,000. To Russia's losses must be added the value of fortifications, property of all kinds, stores and munitions captured by Japan at Port Arthur, Dalny, Niuchwang, Haicheng and Liao-yang. These represent an outlay of approximately $500,000,000, in which is included the value of the ships destroyed in the harbor of Port Arthur. Russia's provisions for war expenses to the end of 1905 comprehended a total expenditure of $850,000,000. Japan's total outlay for two years was estimated to fall $200,000,000 below that figure. Both countries had negotiated foreign loans running from seven to twenty-five years, so that another generation would still feel the financial burden of the war then in progress.

The war had spelled complete disaster for Russia's Asiatic fleet except for two patched ships of problematical effectiveness then at Vladivostock. Russia had lost thirty-five vessels of war of all classes. Of these the chief were: Battleships—Petropavlovsk, destroyed by mine at Port Arthur; Retvisan, Pobieda, Poltava, and Peresviet, sunk by guns from 203-Metre Hill; Czarevitch, disarmed at Shanghai; Sevastopol, blown up by the Russians at the fall of Port Arthur.

Cruisers—Boyarin, Bayan, Pallada, Varyag, Rurik, Rossia, Lena, Novik, Giliak, Bogatyr, sunk, beached or destroyed; Askold, Diana, Gromboi, disarmed in Chinese ports.

Gunboats, etc.—Korietz and Yenesei and twelve others including torpedo boats and destroyers, destroyed.

Japan's losses in battle were confined to torpedo-boats and torpedo-boat destroyers, sixteen of such craft having been destroyed in attacks on Port Arthur. The battleship Hatsuse was sunk, as were also the cruisers Usiyako, Saiyen and Yoshino. Three transports were sunk by ships of the Vladivostock squadron.

On the outbreak of the war Mr. Hay, Secretary of State, proposed to the Powers that, jointly, they agree to guarantee the neutrality of China and call upon the belligerents to restrict the war zone accordingly. Counter charges of violations had been made by Russia and Japan. It was conceded that China had earnestly striven to fulfil her obligations under trying circumstances.

On July 17 Russian auxiliary cruisers stopped, searched and seized neutral ships in the Red Sea, precipitating a grave crisis in which Great Britain took a conspicuous part. On representations of the British Foreign Office, Russia released captive ships and recalled the ships. The fact that they had traversed the Dardanelles for a warlike purpose was the basis of the protest.

On October 22, the Russian Baltic fleet, passing through the North Sea en route to the Indian Ocean, fired on the Hull fishing fleet. Two men were killed, a number were wounded and one trawler was sunk.

The firing was alleged to have resulted from an attack on the Russian ships by Japanese torpedo-boats. After a week, in which war seemed certain, the question of culpability was entrusted by consent of both Governments to an international commission, to sit at Paris. A German vessel was also fired on by the Russian fleet, but Germany accepted Russian explanations and the owners were indemnified.

(1) That torpedo-boats were craft of immense possibilities, capable of even greater development.

(2) That the destroyer had proved a failure; of the 24 vessels of this type in and before Port Arthur not one made a hit.

(4) That "team work" in armies, as exemplified in the Japanese movements, was a matter of primary importance.

(5) That short range fighting was decidedly not a thing of the past, as had been believed.

(6) That the use of hand grenades promised to introduce a new and particularly horrid form of attack and defense.

(7) That modern fortifications were impregnable to direct assault, however effective a preliminary bombardment.

(8) That the success or failure of sieges of modernly fortified positions depended upon the effectiveness of the engineer, miner and sapper.

(9) That the floating mine was an instrument of destruction against which the most powerful ship was helpless.

(10) Wounds inflicted by modern arms heal readily. While the war had demonstrated anew that one man in five was killed in battle, it had shown that an amazing proportion of the wounded were soon back on the firing line. The clean wound of the steel rifle projectile yielded to treatment even when vital organs were pierced. The medical records of the war were among its most notable features.

February 5—Japanese and Russian representatives at St. Petersburg and Tokio given their passports.

February 8-9—Varyag and Korietz destroyed in Chemulpo harbor, and Togo attacks Port Arthur fleet.

August 10—Sorties from Port Arthur harbor. Russian fleet dispersed and in part destroyed. Vice Admiral Witoft killed.

August 30-September 4—Japanese, under Oyama, defeat Kuropatkin at Liao-yang; 365,000 men engaged; loss, 35,000.

October 8-18—Kuroki defeats Kuropatkin at Sha-ho River. Total casualties, 61,000, with 23,000 killed.

The siege of Port Arthur takes high rank in the history of all war. Its capture was the most brilliant achievement of Japanese arms, and its defense perhaps the most glorious page in Russian annals. Invested on May 5, 1904, the fortress held out till failing ammunition forced the surrender of January 2, 1905—242 days. Direct attacks opened on August 19. City, fort and fleet have been valued at $270,000,000; all were destroyed, at a cost to the besiegers of $100,000,000 and more than 30,000 lives; fully 70,000 Japanese were wounded in the various attacks.

After Port Arthur—Raids in Manchuria—The Battle of Sandepu—Kuropatkin Asks for Reinforcements—The North Sea Inquiry.

With the fall of Port Arthur, the Russo-Japanese War entered upon an entirely new phase. Although the situation of the gigantic armies that faced one another across the Sha-ho River remained unchanged, the strategic problems to be solved by their instrumentality were in effect transformed. The struggle for the possession of the great naval fortress had operated as a vitiating factor in the military counsels of both belligerents. Japan had sacrificed between 50,000 and 100,000 of her best soldiers in bringing the six months' siege to a triumphant issue, and in doing so had, by dividing her armies, moreover, forfeited the opportunity of dealing a crushing blow at her adversary. The magnificent infantry that broke themselves in so many vain assaults upon the fortifications of Port Arthur might have enabled Oyama to turn the Russian retreat at Liao-yang into a rout, or to drive the Russians, after the battle of the Sha-ho, back beyond Mukden. On the other hand, Kuropatkin had found himself hampered at every turn by the instructions imposed on him from St. Petersburg to attempt the relief of the beleaguered fortress, by which was symbolized so much of the pride and prestige of the Russian Empire. In the game of chess a strong player, to handicap himself against a weaker, will sometimes undertake to mate with a certain piece. If the piece is lost, the game is lost, and therefore the player's defence is awkwardly compromised by being divided in aim—between protecting his vital piece and at the same time shielding his king from checkmate. Very similar was the task imposed on the unhappy generalissimo of the Czar, who, while trying to baffle Oyama's vigorous combination, had to keep one eye always on Port Arthur. The fall of Port Arthur at least set free both combatants from a distracting preoccupation, and to that degree it was a strength to either side. But its ulterior effects were much less evenly balanced. The capture of Port Arthur at one stroke deprived Russian arms of the possibility of complete triumph, whatever issue future military operations might have; and it secured Japan from the last lingering fear of disastrous defeat. When the remnant of the once powerful Pacific Squadron fell into the hands of the Mikado's soldiers, Russia's last hope of recovering, during the present war, the command of the sea expired utterly; and without the command of the sea, Kuropatkin's boast of "settling the terms of peace at Tokio" could obviously never be fulfilled. Even if invincible armies swept Oyama out of Manchuria, out of Liao-tung Peninsula, and out of Korea itself, there would still be the impassable Straits of Korea to render the victory barren and to impose their inexorable "Thus far and no further". As a matter of fact it became evident to the whole world that, with Japan supreme by sea, the continuance of the war would only be a costly futility for Russia, in which she had everything to lose and nothing to gain—a struggle in which she was exhausting herself to no possible purpose. Her adversary had already won the odd-trick, and the only doubt that remained to be solved was how near she would get to making grand slam. But the blind arrogance and reckless folly which had precipitated Russia into a wanton war for which she was utterly unprepared, were still obdurate to conviction even by the logic of such disastrous events. Nothing is more stubborn than wounded pride, or more blind than baffled vanity. The more desperate the situation, the more perversely bent became the bureaucracy of Russia in prolonging it, and in refusing to recognize facts which impeached the competence and sagacity of the existing régime. Already the strain of maintaining the army in Manchuria had begun to have its effect at home in widespread distress and growing discontent among the peasant and industrial classes. The characteristic remedy of the governing clique was to attempt not a cure, but a diversion. Kuropatkin was ordered to renew his activity and to achieve something that could be represented as a victory at any cost.

Since the last great battle in October—the battle of the Sha-ho, when Kuropatkin's ill-advised offensive had been converted into a perilous retreat that almost degenerated into disaster—the two opposing armies had been practically quiescent. Before they had either recovered from the exhaustion of their last tremendous struggle—before their awful losses could be repaired and their depleted stores and supplies could be replenished—the inexorable grasp of the Manchurian winter had fallen upon them and frozen them into immobility. While the last critical acts in the siege of Port Arthur were being enacted, the troops of Oyama and Kuropatkin were occupied only in maintaining a jealous vigilance on each other, and in digging themselves into their winter quarters. In a climate that is almost Arctic in its severity, where the temperature is regularly for weeks and months together 30 and 40 degrees below freezing-point, active campaigning would be impossible, even if the deep snow under which the face of the country is buried did not make transport impossible. Each army proceeded to entrench itself securely and to construct huts or dig out shelters in the ground in which the troops could find it possible to sustain life. The sufferings of the devoted soldiers during these months of inaction must have been intense, and on both sides the roll of casualties from exposure and frost-bite was appalling. Week after week went by without any incident other than trifling affairs of outposts being recorded in the meagre dispatches given to the world by the authorities at Tokio and St. Petersburg. It has always been the Russian habit, however, to cloak failure in essentials by proclaiming success in trifles; and from General Kuropatkin came a steady trickle of trivial information about brushes between patrols and pickets, wherein the Japanese were always worsted, with the loss of a horse and rifle, or perhaps even of a cooking-stove. But on the very day that the negotiations for the surrender of Port Arthur were opened, a serious interruption to the long inactivity on the Sha-ho occurred. The Russians attempted for the first time a raid on the Japanese line of communications. It was an attempt that an enterprising enemy would have made long before; for it is to be remembered that every mile of the Japanese advance from the sea rendered them increasingly dependent on the railway which they had taken from the Russians. Their army on the Sha-ho was, roughly speaking, more than one hundred miles from the nearest sea-base, Niuchwang; and any interruption to that vulnerable line of communications must inflict much inconvenience at least on Marshal Oyama. The Russians, of course, were exposed to the same risk, and the long line between Mukden and Harbin had, in fact, frequently been cut by the Chunchuses—roving bands of fierce native horsemen, whose hatred for the Muscovite invader had proved a valuable auxiliary to the Japanese. Their activity, in many cases organized and directed by Japanese officers, compelled Kuropatkin to guard jealously every mile of the railway in his rear, and especially every bridge and culvert, and this necessity of maintaining large forces on the lines of communication seriously detracted from the effective strength of his armies in the field. The Russians' idea of giving their enemy tit-tat was at first merely tentative, however. A couple of officers, practically unattended, managed to make their way southward almost as far as Hai-cheng, which is itself some forty or fifty miles south of Liao-yang. There they succeeded in blowing up a culvert and tearing up some yards of railway line—damage which, though not serious in itself, was enough to encourage similar attempts on a larger scale. Kuropatkin knew that the bulk of the army which had been engaged in the siege of Port Arthur was about to be entrained northward, and that with these reinforcements for Oyama were to go the great siege trains which had been employed in battering the ships and fortifications of the captured fortress into submission. To cut off these reinforcements, perhaps to capture train-loads of men and destroy some of the enemy's most formidable artillery, would evidently be a great counter-stroke to the effect produced by the fall of Port Arthur; and so a great Cossack raid was authorized on the Japanese lines of communication. The scheme was admirably conceived and organized, and it achieved at least the first and most important condition of success—namely, a complete surprise. At the outbreak of the war it was predicted in many quarters that what must certainly turn the scale in favor of the Russian arms was Russia's overwhelming superiority in cavalry. The experience of the Boer War had left fresh in every mind the incalculable value of mobility. Now Russia, in her hordes of Cossack horse, possessed a cavalry which had the reputation of being unique in the world. "Other countries have infantry, artillery and cavalry; but Russia is alone in possessing Cossacks," said one distinguished general shortly after the outbreak of hostilities. But as the campaign progressed, critics began to revise their judgments. The terrible Cossack horsemen, for some reason or other, failed to play any considerable part in events. They attempted a raid in Korea from the northeast, but without any result, and in the subsequent fighting they found no opportunity for asserting themselves. The campaign was an infantry and artillery campaign entirely; and the notorious weakness of the Japanese army in cavalry was no impediment to their victorious advance. The war in Manchuria proved in fact that the conditions of the war in South Africa had been peculiar and exceptional. But at last the Cossacks were to be given an opportunity of showing their mettle. On January 8th a force of 6,000 Cossacks under General Mistchenko crossed the Hun-ho and began to march rapidly southwards. This formidable force, composed of three brigades, was accompanied by six batteries of light artillery, and in its organization everything had been done to give to it the maximum of mobility. The Hun-ho, which Mistchenko's division crossed immediately after setting out, is a tributary of the Liao River, into which it flows some forty or fifty miles above Niuchwang. While the course of the Liao is roughly due north, that of the Hun is northeast, or almost directly in the line from Mukden to Niuchwang. The severity of the weather had moderated and was most favorable for the movement of such a great body of mounted men, who swept down the vast Liao plain on a front extending for five miles. By the second night Mistchenko's three brigades had reached the confluence of the Liao and the Hun, and there they made the first contact with the enemy. A Japanese convoy was captured, but the escort succeeded in making its escape, and from that moment it was impossible to conceal knowledge of the movement from the enemy. With their characteristic thoroughness—which throughout this war has left nothing unforeseen and nothing unprovided for—the Japanese had organized a plan for giving instant warning of a raid on the line to the troops guarding all the depots and the lines of communication, in case of any surprise attack such as that devised by Mistchenko. Great beacon fires had been laid at intervals up and down the country, and the kindling of one of these—the signal of approaching danger—was sufficient to set the whole plain from Niuchwang to Liao-yang ablaze with warning flame. No sooner had the Cossacks made their first capture than a house in the village which they had entered suddenly began to emit heavy columns of black smoke, followed by leaping tongues of fire; and so well had the house been filled with combustibles, that every effort to extinguish the fire was vain. Nor had the portent been unobserved. As soon as darkness closed on the scene, the horizon north, south and east was illuminated with the answerable flash of innumerable beacons that passed on from one to another the tidings of the enemy's approach. All hope of surprise being now at an end, the only resource left was to strike swiftly before troops could be hurried down from the front to the threatened points on the railway. Mistchenko's division separated into three bodies—one moving due south towards Niuchwang, another making due east for the railway above Haicheng, and the third striking southeast towards Tashichao, where the branch-line from Niuchwang meets the main line running north and south. The third body almost immediately encountered a force of Chunchuses, 500 strong, armed with Mausers and led by Japanese officers. This force, though overwhelmingly outnumbered, fought with desperate bravery until they were cut to pieces. At another village, held by 500 Japanese infantry, the raiders again encountered a stubborn resistance which they could not overcome; but they swept on southwards, and reached Old Niuchwang at noon on January 11th. Here some 50 Japanese soldiers, the only garrison, shut themselves in a house, and, refusing to surrender, held their own. But they could not prevent the enemy from wreaking destruction on the stores which had been accumulated in the town; and many large transports were burnt. Yinkow, or the port of Niuchwang, had for many months been the principal base of supplies for Oyama's army, as being the seaport nearest to the front, and to work havoc at this vital depot was the principal purpose of Mistchenko's raid. On January 12th the Cossacks approached Yinkow Station, where army stores of enormous value had been accumulated, and opened fire with their six batteries. But the promptitude of the Japanese commanders foiled the attack at this critical point. In spite of the cutting of the line north and south of Hai-cheng, reinforcements had been got through, and the attack on Yinkow Station was resisted by 1,000 riflemen, well entrenched. Against their accurate and well-sustained fire Mistchenko's Cossacks, in spite of artillery support, could make no headway; and as the casualty list mounted up, the Russian general was obliged to draw off, lest the mobility of his retreat should be encumbered by too many wounded. Some damage was done to the station buildings, but it was trivial compared with that which the raiders had set out to effect; and from that moment the only concern of Mistchenko was how to make good his escape from the forces that were rapidly concentrating upon his line of retreat. He had failed not only to destroy the stores of the enemy, but even to inflict any serious damage on the railway line. The boast of his detachments detailed for the latter purpose that they had torn up 600 yards of line north of Hai-cheng, and had blown up the bridge at Tashichao, were obvious exaggerations; or it would not have been possible for the Japanese to move down the reinforcements that secured the repulse of the attack on Yinkow Station. With the whole country roused against him, Mistchenko, encumbered as he was with many wounded, might have found it difficult to break back over the 80 or 100 miles to be traversed before he could count himself in safety. His horses and men were both more or less exhausted with the five days' continuous marching and fighting; but an easy and convenient resource was open to him by simply invading and passing through neutral Chinese territory. On the outbreak of the war, the belligerents, at the instigation of the Powers, led by the United States, had agreed to respect absolutely the neutrality of China, and to confine military operations to the left or eastern side of the great Liao River. But necessity knows no law, and Mistchenko, finding that his road northward from Niuchwang was blocked by a strong force detached by Oku for the purpose of intercepting his retreat, promptly wheeled westward and crossed the Liao River some miles below its junction with the Hun-ho. Thenceforth his progress was easy. It was as if a football player were to run down the field behind the touch-lines in order to reach the goal. The flagrancy of the stratagem would have called for less remark if Russia had not chosen this precise moment to address representations to the Powers complaining of acts done by the Japanese in violation of China's neutrality. As it was, the casualties suffered were heavy—at least 500 all told—and though it was ostentatiously announced from St. Petersburg that such raids would in future be of frequent occurrence, this descent upon Niuchwang remained a solitary as well as a barren enterprise.

But again the inactivity of the armies was to be broken before the month of January had come to an end. The second Manchurian army, the command of which had been committed to General Gripenberg, had now been brought up to strength, and almost immediately proceeded to put itself in evidence. On the 25th General Kuropatkin telegraphed to the Czar announcing briefly two facts—that the offensive had been begun against the enemy on the right (or western) flank; and that the thermometer registered 16 degrees of frost. The full significance of this message only appeared a few days later, when it was revealed that an attempt in force was being made to turn the Japanese left. The main objective of the Russian attack was the village of Sandepu, the main northwest position of the Japanese left army. It will be remembered that after the battle of Yentai or the Sha-ho, which took place in October, the Japanese were left holding a front of fifty miles or more along the south bank of the Sha-ho, a tributary to the Hun-ho, running roughly due east and west at a distance of ten or fifteen miles south of Mukden. The Russian position faced the Japanese on the other bank of the Sha-ho, and then inclined away northwest in the direction of Hsinmintun, a Chinese town on the west bank of the Liao River, from which the Russian army had for a long time been drawing large supplies, in contempt of the neutrality of China. Sandepu is over thirty miles south of Mukden, and lies in the angle made by the Hun River with the railway. It consists of some hundred houses, or farmsteads, each surrounded by high walls of sun-dried bricks, about three feet thick. Loop-holed for musketry, these walls, form an admirable defence, especially as the surrounding country is quite open and flat. But at this season of the year, the Hun-ho, which is a natural defence to the flank of an army resting on Sandepu, is frozen over to a thickness of several feet, and can be safely crossed both by men and transport. The Russians, 85,000 strong, and with no less than 350 guns, moved southwards down the right bank of the Hun-ho until they reached a point a few miles southwest of Sandepu, and there they crossed the frozen river and occupied two villages in which the Japanese had stationed outposts. On the 26th the Russians, who had at the same time crossed the Hun at Chang-tau, again advanced, encountering a steadily increasing resistance and seized after a fierce fight the village of Sha-ho-pu, a few miles northeast of Sandepu, and from that moment the action became general. The capture of Sandepu was essential to any attempt to roll up the Japanese left, and to this object the Russian forces now set themselves with fierce determination. On January 27th, after giving an account of much promiscuous fighting, General Kuropatkin announced to the Czar that "in the evening, after a desperate fight, our troops having, with the help of the sappers, surmounted all artificial obstacles entered the village of Sandepu, which is large and strongly entrenched." Unfortunately, however, for the triumph of the Russian arms, this announcement proved to be premature—or rather to be an incomplete version of the actual fact. The Russian troops entered Sandepu only to be driven back after a desperate struggle; and the indomitable Japanese infantrymen who manned the loop-holed walls of the hamlet were never dislodged from their position. This successful stand was the turning point of the battle. It checked the flank movement of the Russians and gave Oku time to bring up his reinforcements and deliver his counter-stroke. The Russian attack had been from the west and northwest, the object being to envelop the Japanese extreme left. The movement was met by an extension of the Japanese left, which in turn threatened to outflank the outflankers. On the southwest of Sandepu the Russians were driven back along the line of the Hun-ho, and soon the battle centred about the village of Heikautai, a few miles southwest of Sandepu. That this was no mere affair of outposts may be gathered from the fact that the Russian force was made up of two divisions of the Eighth Army Corps, two brigades of Russo-European Rifles, one division of the Tenth Army Corps, part of a division of reserve infantry, and part of the First Siberian Army Corps, and a large force of Cossacks under Mistchenko. On the 27th and 28th, the fighting became desperately fierce and after the Japanese had succeeded in carrying Heikautai and the surrounding positions, they were exposed to repeated night attacks before the Russians at last made up their minds to accept defeat. From Russian sources came the usually inconsistent story—a story in which a long series of unbroken successes culminated inexplicably in an admission of failure and retreat. It now appeared that far from capturing Sandepu, the Russian column that attacked that place lost twenty-four officers and 1,600 men killed and wounded by coming unexpecedly upon "a triple row of artificial obstacles" on the ground swept by artillery and machine-gun fire which the Russian gunners could not subdue. This intelligence came as a severe disappointment to the friends of Russia, who had begun to believe that the tide of war had at last begun to turn, and that Russian arms were about to secure their first victory. Eager strategists in St. Petersburg pointed out that Sandepu was only twenty or thirty miles from Liao-yang, and that its retention would be such a serious menace to the Japanese line of retreat that the evacuation of the whole position on the Sha-ho would be a necessity. Alas! while these fascinating speculations were being indulged in, the Russian Army of the right was already in full retreat, and was indeed suffering appalling losses in the effort to extricate itself from the toils of the enemy. The fighting round Heikautai lasted five days, and the issue almost to the last hung in doubt. The capture of Heikautai had become necessary to the security of the Japanese position, but repeated attacks on it had been repulsed. The spirit in which the emergency was met is revealed in the laconic words of Marshal Oyama's dispatch. "Our object had not been attained, so I encouraged all the columns to make night attacks. All the columns of the attacking parties expected annihilation. We attempted several attack movements, but suffered heavily from the enemy's artillery, and especially from the machine-guns, but all the columns continued the attack with all their might. The enemy was unable to withstand our vigorous attack, and began to retreat at half past five in the morning. Our forces charging into Heikautai, occupied the place firmly and entirely by half past nine in the morning." The net result of the battle was to give the Japanese secure possession of a line east and west of Hun-ho and south of Mukden, and to inflict on the Russians casualties which certainly exceeded 10,000, and probably reached 15,000. In war especially "the attempt and not the deed" confounds. It is not the first step but the last that costs—not the attack, but the retreat after repulse. No sooner had the failure of this big attempt on the Japanese left been fully confirmed than it became known that the movement had been directed by General Gripenberg, the commander of the Second Manchurian Army. When, after the battle of Liao-yang, the Czar sanctioned the formation of this Second Army and committed the command of it to General Gripenberg, there was a great flourish of journalistic trumpets in the Russian and French press. At last Kuropatkin would have not only an "Army worthy of the might and dignity of Russia," but would have a lieutenant worthy of himself to share the tremendous strain of directing nearly half a million of men. The two Generals exchanged cordial messages, and then Gripenberg set out for Harbin to superintend the gradual organization of his Second Army. By the end of the year its units had been completed, and then the impatience of General Gripenberg to assert himself appears to have become uncontrollable. He conceived the movement against the Japanese left—a movement that might easily have achieved substantial results if the Japanese had not been so well prepared for it—and his direct responsibility for it was made patent to the world by the angry and undignified recriminations between him and Kuropatkin that followed the repulse. General Gripenberg immediately asked to be relieved of his command, ostensibly on the ground of ill health, but really as he allowed to be perfectly manifest, in dudgeon at the treatment which he alleged had been meted out to him by his superior officer. He claimed that his flanking movement had in fact succeeded, and that he only needed reinforcements to maintain the position he had won. He complained loudly that he applied very urgently for these reinforcements, but that they were withheld, and that he was not even supported in his retreat by a diversion in other parts of the field. A great victory had been within his grasp, General Gripenberg represented, and it had been snatched from him simply by the perverse inactivity of General Kuropatkin. So strained were the relations at headquarters that General Gripenberg's request to be relieved of his command was immediately complied with, and the General set off post-haste back to St. Petersburg to lay his complaints personally before the Czar. The quarrel was conducted practically in public by the advocates of the two rivals; and General Kuropatkin's friends were not slow to put forward his side of the case. According to this account, General Gripenberg's costly defeat was caused directly by his deliberate disobedience to instructions. He had been permitted to embark on his movement against the Japanese left on the strict understanding that it was to be only in the nature of a reconnaissance in force, and that a general action was not to be forced. While nominally accepting these limitations, General Gripenberg had in his heart rebelled against them, and had not hesitated to commit his army to a pitched battle beyond the reach of support, and in conditions of weather which made the movement of troops most undesirable. Finally it was contended that General Kuropatkin had done all he could to relieve the pressure on General Gripenberg by bombarding the Japanese right and centre, and threatening an advance in those directions. The wrangle could not but be ignominious, but at least more dignity pertained to the disputant who remained at his post and strove to repair the blunder that had been committed than to the disputant that threw down his responsibilities and went home in a pet. This view of the case seems to have prevailed with the Czar himself, whose reception of General Gripenberg was not cordial. According to the reports that came from well-informed French sources, the Czar took General Kuropatkin's part very decidedly, and administered to General Gripenberg a severe rebuke for his insubordination. Whatever the character of the frequent audiences which the disappointed General had of his Sovereign, the fact remained that Kuropatkin was maintained in the supreme command of the armies in Manchuria, and that while General Gripenberg lingered in St. Petersburg, if not in disgrace, at least in inactivity, General Kaulbars was definitely appointed to the command of the Second Manchurian Army.

If this five days' desperate fighting scarcely affected the position of the two armies, it inflicted on the Russian armies the discouragement of another defeat at the hands of a numerically inferior force, and the moral effect of adding to this unbroken series of reverses is not easily computed. With troops less dogged and devoted than those of the Czar, demoralization would have set in long before. The anxieties of Kuropatkin were now aggravated, too, by circumstances which no generalship on his part could alleviate and remove. All through the autumn reinforcements had been pouring along the Trans-Siberian Railway, the carrying capacity of which had been stretched so wonderfully by Prince Khilkoff. But even the resources of engineering genius have their limits. They cannot contrive a pint pot in such a way that it will hold a quart; and the number of trains that can be run over a single line is fixed inexorably by circumstance. Kuropatkin's urgent and incessant demands for more and more reinforcements had been met in large measure, but only at the expense of the other traffic, including the carriage of military stores. The enormous supplies required to provision and maintain at war efficiency armies numbering half a million of men may be imagined, and for these supplies Kuropatkin had become increasingly dependent on the railway. The more reinforcements he received the more mouths he had to feed; and the longer the campaign endured the less reliance was to be placed on what a devastated and exhausted countryside could provide. During the earlier months of the war, some relief to the strain on the railway could be found by drawing supplies from Vladivostock, which in turn could be fed from over-seas; but no sooner had the destruction of the Port Arthur fleet been completed, than the inexorable Japanese established a strict blockade of Vladivostock, and cut off this last resource. While the wretched troops amid all the rigors of the Manchurian winter were in need of such ordinary necessities as proper clothing, fuel, and even food, vast accumulations of stores, more than sufficient to supply all their needs, were lying rotting on the sidings of the Siberian Railway, immovable because of the congestion of traffic on the already overburdened line. To add to the anxiety of the situation came the grave dislocation caused by the riots and strikes which broke out in all the great industrial and distributive centres of Russia after the fall of Port Arthur, and which revealed an internal crisis even more menacing than the military crisis which confronted the army in Manchuria. For weeks together, just at the moment that prompt and vigorous action was demanded, the whole administrative system of Russia was paralyzed, and the energies of its directors were absorbed in staving off domestic revolution instead of in organizing the measures for conducting a foreign war. On the other hand, the Japanese generals had not only the strategic advantage of being within easy distance of several sea-bases, but they also were able to rely on a system of supply which is perhaps the most perfect that has ever been seen in war. The minute prevision with which the necessities of a campaign on such an enormous scale had been provided for is well exemplified by the organization of the Army Medical Service. In spite of all the hardships and exhaustion to which General Oku's army had been exposed, for instance, the Chief Surgeon was able to report that from the date of its landing on the Liao-tung Peninsula on May 6th to the end of January there had only occurred 40 deaths in its ranks from disease. The cases of typhoid numbered but 193, and the cases of dysentery no more than 342. The marvelous character of this record may be realized by remembering how appalling were the ravages of disease during the South African campaign. Typhoid and dysentery in that war carried off infinitely more victims than shell or bullet; and if sometimes in their assaults on fortified positions the Japanese have seemed shockingly reckless of human life, it is to be remembered that in another and not less important direction they have shown themselves infinitely more careful of it. Such were the conditions as the long winter months drew to their close, and as silently the Japanese armies girded themselves for the great stroke which was in a few weeks' time to eclipse both in magnitude and consequence everything that had hitherto marked the progress of this epoch-making campaign.

Meanwhile the unhappy Baltic Fleet protracted its embarrassing sojourn in Madagascar waters. Having got so far on the road to its appointed revenge, discretion overcame heroic resolution on the part of its Admiral. The nearer Rozhdestvensky came to his task of wresting the command of the sea from Admiral Togo, the less he appeared to like it; and finally the Armada which had begun its voyage with such a sensational progress through the North Sea, decided to continue to avail itself of French hospitality until it should have received the reinforcements of the third Baltic Squadron. While the Russian fleet was thus ingloriously hung up at Diego Suarez, the International Commission appointed to inquire into the circumstances of its exploits in the North Sea met at Paris, and having heard exhaustively the evidence in support of the British and Russian cases, at length issued its report. In spite of the preliminary rumors that the conduct of the Russian Admiral had been vindicated, the event proved that the justice of the British case had been as completely sustained as it could be by any judgment which was more diplomatic than judicial in character. The Admirals of the Commission, with the exception of their Russian colleague, found that there were no hostile torpedo boats present on the Dogger Bank; that the British trawlers did nothing to provoke attack; and that the firing to which they were subjected was unjustifiable. To coat this rather unpleasant pill, the Commissioners amiably added, in contradiction of the direct implication of their own findings, that their report threw no discredit either on the military quality or the humane sentiments of Admiral Rozhdestvensky.

Rigors of Manchurian Winters—In Winter Quarters—Ear Muffs Won by Yankee Thrift—Hot Baths and Hot Meals—Disease Conquered in Camp—Wonderful Sanitary Record—Civil War Comparisons—The Japanese Scientific—No Detail Overlooked—Wounded Rarely Die.

After the Battle of the Sha-ho River the two armies went into winter quarters prepared to face a Manchurian season with thermometer readings of 35 degrees below zero not uncommon and with a snowfall of enormous proportions to contend with. The Russians were better prepared to meet the situation than the Japanese since a large proportion of the Russian army hailed from Siberia or the northern provinces of Asiatic and European Russia and hence were inured to rigorous winters. Some thousands of the Japanese had come from the northern provinces of Japan and they, too, were well experienced in cold. But a large majority of the Japanese troops were from the southern islands of Japan, where rigorous winters are unknown. The Japanese army administration was thus confronted by a very serious problem. The story of the manner in which the problem was met and solved is among the most interesting of the chapters of the history of the war.

When the positions of the various units of the army had been definitely fixed the whole army began, as a preliminary step, to burrow into the earth. Before mid-November the Japanese camp was no longer stretched over the hills south of the Sha-ho but had vanished from view under the hills. Along the whole front that stretched for nearly sixty miles underground galleries were excavated barely high enough even for a Japanese to stand erect. These were open at one end and at the entrance to each a charcoal burning stove was placed. A fire was kept burning continually in each of these thousands of stoves. The stove pipe, instead of jutting a foot or two into the air was extended along the roof of the dug-out to its end, then passed upward through the eight feet of soil that formed the roof. Fronting the open end long trenches, were dug and over them heavy protective bomb proofs of timber and earth were erected as a protection against the shells which with greater or less activity were hurled into the Japanese lines by the Russians throughout the winter. These underground homes solved much of the question of withstanding cold for in them the men were reasonably comfortable. Special clothing, too, was provided, and in connection with fur ear-muffs with which each man was provided an interesting story is told, one typical of the Yankee-like thrift of the Japanese. Five years before, the plague had been introduced into Japan from the Malay Peninsula. A vigorous fight was made and the disease was finally conquered but in the course of the fight the sanitary officials became convinced that the germs of the disease were being spread by rats. A prize was put upon the heads of the dangerous rodents. Millions were killed by the boys of Japan who delivered the rats, collected the bounty and gave no thought to what became of the carcasses. Nor did anyone, but when the army faced a Manchurian winter those millions of rat furs reappeared as warm ear protectors while a smile went around the world. So completely, in a thousand ingenious ways did the army officials conquer the cold and safeguard the army that throughout the winter it was even possible for every man in the army to have two hot baths a week. The bath in Japan is almost a religious rite, but the trooper bade good-bye to it, as he supposed, when he started for the front. Not so. Circular metal tubes were provided. These were sunk in the ground level with the surface. Ten feet away at the bottom of a trench a stove was placed heating a coil of pipes which went inside, around and around the sides of the tube. The tube served as the tub. It was filled with water and in a few minutes the hot bath was ready. In protected spots all along the lines Nippon could be seen hastily stripping beside the steaming hole in the ground. Then he would vanish until only his head was visible. As well as he could he scrubbed himself. Comrades raised him swiftly from the tube and swathed him in heavy blankets, wrapped in which he vanished over the edge of the trench and so into his underground home, clean and happy.

Hot meals were cooked at the doors of the dugouts for the fifty occupants on improved portable camp kitchens. Telephones connected every battalion headquarters with its regimental headquarters and so throughout the army, every unit with the next largest and all with the general headquarters at Liao-yang. Great fur overcoats, pure wool underclothing, heavy uniforms well adapted for comfort and warmth; in every detail the Japanese were splendidly equipped for the ordeal of cold. Thousands of slight cases of frost-bite reached the hospitals after occasional sorties demanded by fitful attacks of Russian scouting parties, but there was none of this in the normal life of the vast army of nearly 300,000 men.

The Japanese medical department during the winter made a wonderful fight against disease, that bane of armies, and continued under these unrecord of the actual campaign.

Until now disease has always been much more destructive than shot and shell. During the brief conflict with Spain 268 Americans died of bullets and wounds, while mortality from disease reached the appalling number of 3,862, or about fourteen to one. In the Boer War 7,792 English were killed in action or died of wounds, while 13,250 fell victims to disease. Of the Turkish army operating in Thessaly seven years ago, 1,000 men were lost in battle, while 19,000 died at the front of disease. Twenty-two thousand others were invalided home, and of these 8,000 subsequently died. This was a ratio of twenty-seven men killed by disease to one by bullets. Even more frightful was the experience of the French expedition to Madagascar in 1894. Only 29 were killed in action, while over 7,000 perished from disease. Compare these frightful experiences with the record of the Japanese. During the last nine months of 1904, throughout a difficult campaign, in a country noted for lack of sanitation, only forty deaths from disease occurred in the immense army in Manchuria commanded by General Oku. It is a wonderful lesson in sanitation Japan has taught to the world.

While disease scored but forty victims in nine months among the soldiers of General Oku, no fewer than 5,127 officers and men were killed and 21,080 wounded. This shows that the period was one of great activity, of hard campaigning and severe fighting—which makes the low disease death rate all the more astonishing. Soldiers in the field cannot be looked after as carefully as those in camp; hygiene and sanitary surroundings are only temporary, and, therefore, more crude; dietetic regulations are more difficult to enforce. Of course, there were many cases of disease in Oku's army—24,642 in all—but the majority were of bronchial troubles, resulting from climatic conditions. Of beri beri, a malady peculiarly Oriental, 5,070 cases were reported. But the progressive Japanese seem to have gotten the mastery even of this, once notable, because of its mortality. It is, however, in battling with those most dreaded scourges of an army—typhoid fever and dysentery—that the Japanese have scored their greatest triumphs. Of typhoid fever they have had only 193 cases, and of dysentery only 342 cases.

During the first year of the American Civil War typhoid fever attacked 8 per cent. of the Federal troops, killing 35 per cent. of the white and 55 per cent. of the negro soldiers who contracted it. But here is an army in the wilds of Manchuria larger than that of McClellan before Richmond, which had only forty deaths in nine months. The great American conflict was one of the bloodiest in history. In the Federal ranks, 110,070 men were killed in battle or died of wounds, while 249,458 were sent to their graves of disease. Why is it the little brown islanders of the East were so successful in fighting the unseen foe?

"Every death from preventable disease is an insult to the intelligence of the age," says Major Louis L. Seaman, late surgeon in the United States Volunteers, who returned from Japan during the war.

"When it occurs in an army, where the units are compelled to submit to discipline, it becomes a governmental crime."

"Disease bacteria," asserts another writer, in discussing the medical aspects of the Boer War, "are even more dangerous than Mauser bullets shot off with smokeless powder. Both hit without giving a sign to the eye whence they come, and of the two, the Mausers hit less often and hit less hard." It was through prompt recognition of these propositions that the Japanese held down their death rate from disease. Major Seaman relates that, in conversation with a Japanese officer early in the conflict, the subject of Russia's overwhelming numbers was mentioned.

"Yes," admittted the officer, "we are prepared for that. Russia may be able to place 2,000,000 men in the field. We can furnish 500,000. You know that in war four men die of disease for every one who falls from bullets. We propose to eliminate disease as a factor. Every man who dies in our army must fall on the field of battle. In this way we shall neutralize the superiority of Russian numbers and stand on a comparatively equal footing."

When Japan started out to make war she did so upon a scientific basis. For many months in advance the store rooms of Tokio were crowded with surgical materials, cots, tents, bedding, ambulances and all kinds of hospital supplies, ready for any emergency, and under the personal example of the Empress the women of the land made bandages for those who might be wounded. Japan realized also that the keystone to the health of the army lay in the character of the ration provided for the individual soldier. So she set about to master that problem. First of all, the ration evolved was suited to the climatic conditions of the campaign. It consisted largely of rice, compressed fish, soy, army biscuits, a few salted plums, tea—all of which necessitate the drinking of large quantities of boiled water—a few ounces of meat and some juicy, succulent pickles.

No more thorough or efficient medical preparation could be imagined that Japan made for her great conflict. Not only was the ablest of medical counsel obtained, but the members of that staff of the army were given rank and full authority to enforce their decrees. The Japanese had a medical director who ranked as a lieutenant-general. Six medical officers ranked as major-general. With every 20,000 men in line a surgeon ranking as brigadier-general, and all have power to enforce their orders. Every body of moving soldiers, however small, was accompanied by one or more medical officers, who were almost omnipresent, and were always watchful. Field and line officers and men were obliged to obey them without question. The solution of the greater problem engaged the attention of the medical corps. This was in preserving the health and fighting value of the army. Nothing seemed too small to escape the vigilance of the medical officers, or too tedious to weary his patience. He was with the first line of scouts, with his microscope and chemicals, testing and labelling wells so that the army to follow should not drink water that was contaminated. When the scouts reached a town, he immediately instituted a thorough examination of its sanitary condition. If contagious or infectious disease was found, he quarantined and placed a guard around the dangerous district. Notices were posted, so that the approaching column was warned and no soldiers were located where danger existed. Violations of such a notice was as great an offense as disobedience to a line officer on a battlefield. An officer with only the rank of a lieutenant might post the notice, and yet General Oku himself dared not disregard it. No foraging party ever set out to gather supplies unless accompanied by a medical officer.

He sampled the various kinds of food, fruit and vegetables sold by the natives along the line of march long before the arrival of the army. If the food was tainted, or the fruit over ripe, or the water ought to be boiled, notice was posted to that effect. In camp, too, the medical officer was always busy, lecturing the men on sanitation and the hundred and one details of personal hygiene—how to cook, to eat, and when not to drink; to bathe, and even to directions as to paring and cleansing the finger nails to prevent danger from bacteria. More than any other preventive, the boiling of all drinking water was insisted upon. Every Japanese soldier carried a small copper camp kettle with a double bottom. By the use of it he was enabled to boil water even in a gale. Charcoal was burned on the inside, the water being heated between two layers of copper. Great kettles for similar use in camps were also provided.

Large bathing basins, or kettles, formed an important part of the equipment of each company. They were placed upon the ground and are ready for use in a few minutes after camp was made. In this way personal cleanliness was maintained. A troop might encamp beside a small stream, the water of which was needed for several different purposes. It was not scooped up indiscriminately, but the flow was divided into separate channels—one for drinking or cooking, another for bathing, a third for laundry service, and so on.

Up to July 1, 1106 wounded were taken to Tokio, and of that number not a single man died. These men were shot in almost every possible way; six had bullets through the brain, nine had bullets through their chests, and six had bullets through the abdomen—and yet all got well. The medical service of the United States in its war with Spain was not any more discreditable when compared with that of Japan than the medical service of the English Army during its war with the Boers. The report of the English Hospital Commission, which inquired into the medical end of that conflict, shows that there was "an immense amount of needless suffering and misery." There is no attempt "to hide incompetency and unpreparedness under the platitude that 'was is war.'" Just as in the Spanish-American War, a large number of civil surgeons were employed for army work in South Africa. They had no knowledge of military duties nor of military methods and discipline. Consequently, they were ineffective, except when accompanied and, to some extent, controlled by officers of the service. They were absolutely without authority. Perhaps all these lessons were observed and absorbed by the keen-eyed Japanese. In any event, they have given the world the most pronounced examples of scientific warfare that the hoary old globe has ever seen.

The Greatest Battle of History—Rout and Disaster for Russia—The Ancient City of Mukden—The Tombs of the Manchus—A Flourishing Mart—Betwixt Winter and Spring—The Line of Battle—Lone Tree Hill—The Russian Position—The Japanese Task—Mukden the Real Battleground—Russian Flanks Strongly Protected—Well Protected on the East—Battled for Mountain Passes—Russians Had Advantage of Position—The Outlook for Oyama—Busy Preparations During Winter—Oyama's Plan of Battle—Nogi to Strike Culminating Blow—"Out of the Way for Us"—Master Stroke of the Battle.

Not only the climax of the Japan-Russian War, but a climax to all wars was reached in the Battle of Mukden, fought February 19-March 13, 1905. This memorable struggle, resulting in a sweeping victory for Japan, was practically a campaign in itself. The results, a cataclasm which overwhelmed the Russian army, were not merely what had been expected for this one battle, but comprehended all that the Japanese had hoped for a year's campaign. It was more than rout. It remains a grisly monument to the potentiality of war to write horror on the pages of world history. It was more than defeat, retreat, disaster, it was practical annihilation for Russia's power of resistance in the Far East. Her vaunted military power was trailed in the dust, was obliterated. When the smoke of the contest had rolled away Oyama stood master of Manchuria with only a demoralized horde of the enemy "without form and void" fleeing in panic with no thought but to shake off a foe to whom no resistance could be offered.

No nation in the world's history has faced a greater blow to its military prestige, and from the standpoint of the Japanese—no military force has achieved for its nation a more sweeping or more complete victory. The Battle of Mukden is destined to occupy a unique place in the story of the nations for these and other reasons. In point of the territory involved; in point of the number of men engaged; in point of the duration of the struggle; in point of the lessons, the authentic history of the world has no peer for its record.

General Kuropatkin, the Russian Commander-in-Chief, had at the beginning of the struggle an army of 300,000 infantry; 26,700 cavalry, and 1,368 guns. This is the estimate of the Japanese intelligence bureau. On the other hand the German Military Review credited Kuropatkin with a total of 370,790 men of whom 36,790 were cavalry. The Germans estimate that the Russians had a total of 1,598 field guns, and 72 heavy guns. Somewhere between these two estimates the actual figures, carefully concealed by the Russians, may be taken to lie. Marshal Oyama had 500,000 men of all arms and artillery equal to that of the Russians with a preponderating number of big guns, a great many having been moved from Port Arthur to the northern battleground. In the two armies therefore, there were in round numbers a total of about 800,000 men.

The battle developed into a struggle for possession of Mukden, the ancient Manchu capital, near which lie the Imperial Tombs of the founders of the Manchu dynasty, a spot sacred throughout the length and breadth of China. The battle lines around this city stretched for one hundred miles. The fighting began on February 19. On March 7th the Russians already seeing disaster in the advance made by the Japanese under General Nogi, toward cutting off the line of retreat north of Mukden, fell back from the centre along the Sha-ho River and on March 10 evacuated Mukden, beginning a retreat that was turned into a disastrous rout by the desperate flank attacks of the Japanese from both sides.

The Russian losses to March 13, when the Battle of Mukden actually came to a close, were 175,000 men, killed, wounded and prisoners; 60 guns; 25,000 rounds of small arm ammunition and immense quantities of stores. The Japanese casualties to March 12 were 41,222 killed, wounded and missing and several hundred of the missing were recovered in the capture of Mukden. The Japanese sent 43,000 prisoners to Japan as one of the results of the victory.

Mukden, round which the greatest battle in history raged, is, without exception, the most interesting place in the whole of Northern China. In the eyes of all Manchurians it is the one holy city in the world, for it is here that the tombs of the founders of the Manchu dynasty are situated. For this reason the Chinese Government demanded that the sacred precincts of the Imperial Tombs must not be violated by foul warfare, and both sides engaged in the horrible work of killing, entered into solemn undertakings to respect the sanctity of the famous burial grounds.

The great city stands in the middle of a vast alluvial plain, surrounded by rich and highly cultivated land. The population of Mukden is over a quarter of a million, and the city is modelled on a similar plan to that of Peking, presenting an imposing appearance, in spite of the decay into which many of the ancient buildings have been allowed to fall.

The railway, which runs north to Harbin, does not pass within a mile of the city, the Chinese having refused to allow the neighborhood of the sacred tombs to be desecrated by the construction of an iron road in the immediate vicinity. The station is consequently about a mile away from the city, but on alighting from the train, one is immediately struck by the sight of the tremendous brick walls, 60 feet high, which surround the inner town. This is built in the form of a square a mile wide, and entrance is gained through eight enormous brick gates, surrounded by watch-towers and batteries. Outside this, suburbs extend for about a mile in every direction, and the whole is surrounded by a mud rampart from ten to twenty feet in height.

A little to the north of the city is the sacred shrine of Na Ta, and a mile to the east of this is the Temple of Heaven, where sacrifices of black cattle and white sheep are offered up in the Emperor's name. To the east of this pagoda, buried in the midst of a grove of fir trees, is the famous tomb of the great Chinese conqueror, Tai Tsung. Access to the tomb is gained through a great gateway, roofed with red and yellow tiles, down a long avenue flanked by colossal stone figures of animals, great marble columns, and stretches of high wall.

The other great tomb lies due east of the city, in the heart of a great forest. Here, amid similar walls, figures of animals, and decayed marble columns, lie the remains of Nao Chu, the father of Tai Tsung. The fact that both these sacred relics were surrounded by acres of forest made it likely that no violation, either by Russians or Japanese, would take place, though the possible misdirection of a shell from one of their heavy guns might very easily have ruined either of them. Such an accident would very probably have stirred the somnolent Chinese to their very depths.

For an Eastern city Mukden is extremely clean and well kept. The Manchus are well known for their cleanly habits, which are often in striking contrast with those of the southern Chinese. The streets are well scavengered, and there are many most imposing, if not beautiful, private mansions belonging to wealthy mandarins. There are also a great number of handsome shops, and the centre of the city is always busy with the incessant movement and bustle which are only to be found in prosperous trading centres.

For Mukden is the centre of an enormous trade between the north and the south of China. From the north come enormous quantities of fur, and from the south millions of bushels of all sorts of grain, while in the immediate vicinity wheat, barley, tobacco, melons, and cucumbers are grown in the fertile plain which stretches away on all sides. The silkworm, too, is cultivated all round Mukden, so that there is never any lack of trade from one source or another, whatever the season. Mukden, in the Manchu language means "flourishing," and for centuries the city has lived up to its name.

Two miles to the south of the city is a wide, sandy stretch of ground, twenty miles long, through which runs the Hun River, which can be forded almost anywhere. This approach to Mukden, forming the Russian center, was strongly held with sand-bag batteries. On the west of the town the very high railway embankment, running north and south of the river for many miles, was used to protect Mukden against attack from the west. The most vulnerable point in this line was the bridge over the Hun River, against which the Japanese delivered incessant attack. Mukden was strongly fortified by General Kuropatkin. The fortifications extended for nine miles, with forts and redoubts at intervals of a mile. The redoubts were all cleverly masked, and the line of fortification was protected by deep ditches and pits, all with stakes at the bottom, by wire entanglements, land mines, and a line of felled trees.

Winter still howls over Manchuria when February is drawing to a close, but the early days of March, just as through the central United States, bring the first flush of spring. The ground remains locked in the grip of a frost that turns earth to steel to a depth of seven feet. The rivers are still securely ice-bound, but overhead the sun begins a mastery over the overpowering cold. If the nights remain bitterly cold, the days are increasingly warm and throughout the daylight hours conditions are ideal for the work of the soldier. The weather, therefore, fairly trumpeted a call to arms to the two vast armies that confronted each other south of the Sha-ho River. The earliest moves were made over whitened plains with snow storms still driving over hills and plain out of the bleak north. Marshal Oyama, the Japanese commander, evidently realized that the struggle would be long and, indeed, before its end winter had, in fact, given place to the opening days of spring. The advantages were many. The movement of artillery was facilitated by the hard surface of frozen ground and the ease with which ice-covered streams and rivers could be crossed. Lack of foliage deprived the army of the protection that so greatly aided the advance on Liao-yang, and so effectively shielded the artillery in that struggle. The broken nature of the country, the heavy calibre guns, firing from one to five miles with accuracy, minimized the disadvantage of fighting over a bare land and if lack of protection of foliage and growing crops added to the Japanese losses it failed to check the vigor or relentlessness of the advance once it had begun.

The lines of the two armies on the eve of the great battle, stretched from the Hun River, on the west, in a southeasterly direction south of the Sha-ho River, along that stream, then bending more southward, across the Taitse River, near Bensihu, at a point thirty-five miles east of Yentai Station, on the Harbin—Port Arthur Railroad. These lines had been determined by the battle of the Sha-ho River, October 6-13, the end of the campaign of 1904. Strategically the advantage lay with the Russians. Though defeated in the memorable battle along the Sha-ho, General Kuropatkin had secured a position south of Mukden far superior to any below Tie Pass, the gateway to the great plains around Harbin, always regarded as the ultimate decisive battleground of Manchuria.

The whole lay of the land was adapted to defensive fighting. Along most of the front lay the Sha-ho River, broad enough and deep enough to demand bridging except when frozen over. The culminating event of the battle of the Sha-ho had been the recapture by the Russians of Lone Tree Hill, a mile east of the railroad, just south of the Sha-ho, at the very centre of the battlefield. From this point the Russians commanded a territory five miles in radius. The hill, naturally adapted for defense, was strongly fortified to a point nearer impregnability even, than achieved by any of the boasted fortifications of the mountains around Port Arthur. Thousands of Japanese were ultimately to immolate themselves on the slopes of Lone Tree Hill in vain efforts at its capture. It still stood invincible when events elsewhere demanded retreat and its abandonment. Westward the Russian line spread across a rolling country dotted with Chinese villages. The low, stoned walled cottages of these clusters of hamlets formed the basis for defenses which were well calculated to offer enormous resistance to troops advancing across the wide-stretching flats along the Sha-ho, and the east bank of the Hun, the only approach for the Japanese.

Eastward from the Sha-ho the defense line followed the foot hills that become mountains thirty miles east of the Sha-ho. In front flowed a river for twenty miles of the distance, and a vast level plain approached the river from the south, over which the Japanese right flank must make its advance. The Russian position was enclosed in a vast triangle with the upper angle between Mukden and Fushan, northward, its base the eighty-mile line from Madyanapu, on the Hun River, to Tsenketchen, thirty-five miles east of Yentai. Mountains protected the left flank; the Hun River protected the right flank, while Lone Tree Hill, and the Sha-ho River were chief elements in the strength of the centre. All the genius of the Russian commanders was exerted to find the weak spots in this long line. Artillery of the heaviest types, ranging through all the grades of siege and field guns, and the more mobile and most deadly machine guns were scattered with prodigality across the whole vast front then in receding lines to the apex of the triangle, where were arranged the defenses of Mukden and Fushan. To facilitate communications over the battlefield, two hundred miles of light railroad track was laid, and thousands of light cars for horse or man propulsion were in constant use carrying munitions, provisions, guns or whatever was needed, to depots from which every part of the battlefield was readily accessible. Telephone and telegraph wires connected the headquarters, just north of the Sha-ho River, with every command along the entire line. Crowning all, an army of 350,000 men rested on its arms, elbow to elbow, along the front, as bulwarks to the flanks, and northward, thronging Mukden and Fushan, the reserves. This was the immediate situation on the Russian side that confronted Marshal Oyama.

The Japanese task, however, was more than to defeat the Russian army. Criticism had followed the victory of Liao-yang because, despite the awful defeat administered, the battle had been indecisive. The Russian general had been able to extricate his army and by a masterful retreat, to realign his forces in a new position with no alternative but to follow and prepare to renew the struggle left to the Japanese commanders. The Battle of Mukden must be estimated in the light of an effort to prevent a recurrence of this feat by the Russians. The chief world interest centers about the strategy of Marshal Oyama to encircle his foe, to cut off his retreat completely and to force the alternative of annihilation or surrender. The geography of the country, its strategical features far afield from the actual Russian positions, therefore, become matters of moment which must be understood to permit a comprehensive understanding of the battle and its results.

Marshal Oyama's problem, as has been said, was to envelope the Russian armies. It was as though the Russian triangle were a bottle into which a cork must be driven. On the neck of the bottle, ten miles apart, are Mukden, on the West, and Fushan, on the east. Between these points the Russians would be compelled to disgorge in a retreat northward should the center be broken and a retreat became necessary. Here, then, was the Japanese objective. To take Mukden and Fushan, to drive the forces there southward toward the Sha-ho, and to place a force northward to be the cork in the bottle, driving back the retreat on the advance of the center, right and left armies, thus surrounding the Russians with a hoop of men and guns that would make escape or victory impossible. Thus it is that a battle that centered twenty-five miles southward on the Sha-ho River becomes officially known as the battle of Mukden, for here centered the really vital struggle of the whole memorable engagement. The Russian line of communication centers at Harbin, where the railroad which pierces Manchuria and the Liao-tung Peninsula to Port Arthur, branches southward from the Siberian railroad, the artery through which flows life from St. Petersburg and European Russia to the Far Eastern armies. The whole Manchurian campaign has moved northward along this railroad, the salvation of the Russian army always depending on its ability to keep open at its rear this means of sustenance, of ammunition supply, of reinforcement supply, of transport of every kind, whether advancing or retreating. The railroad reached the actual Russian lines just west of Mukden and then continued southward to the Sha-ho, branching here and there to various field depots convenient to the various army units. Marshal Oyama's plan of battle comprehended, as its greatest achievement, the cutting of this railroad north of Mukden before a retreat could be made. This was the first and most vital contribution if the ultimate plan to envelop the Russians was to succeed. This plan failed and hence the prize of decisive, final victory slipped from the grasp of the Japanese commander, however great the blow he dealt to the Russian army.

General Kuropatkin was fully alive to the dangers on his flanks as well as at the front. His right flank rested on Mukden, but the actual lines to which were given the task of preventing the turning of the right flank were far afield from the actual city. To the southwest they extended to the Hun River, thirty-five miles away, while the far outpost was within touch of Sinmintin, a Chinese city, thirty-five miles westward of Mukden on the banks of the Liao River. Sinmintin is actually in the territory which was excluded from the theatre of war by the famous agreement proposed to the European Powers by John Hay, the American Secretary of State, by which the neutrality of Chinese territory was assured. Nevertheless, while not actually occupied by the Russians, Sinmintin was to all intents and purposes within their lines and was continually used as a receiving point for supplies bought or commanded in the Mongolian provinces. Cossacks in large force remained in close touch with the city while the road leading from Sinmintin to Mukden, a famous caravan route, was occupied by large forces of Russians and was regarded as an effective bulwark for the Russian right flank.

The Russian defences on the right, or west wing of their army began just west of the Sha-ho River, extended thence westward for thirty-five miles to the Hun and then bent due northward across the left side of the Liao River Valley to a point a few miles east of Sinmintin; thence along the Sinmintin-Mukden road to Tatchekiao, five miles northward of Mukden; thence due westward until the line intercepted the railroad, a few miles north of Mukden. Lieutenant General Baron Kaulbars was commander of the army of nearly 100,000 men which made up this wing of General Kuropatkin's forces. The left wing's divisional commander was General Linevitch, who, with General Rennenkampf, stands among the greatest of the Russian commanders. Occupying a position to the Russian left flank exactly similar to that of Mukden on the right, is Fushan, ten miles east of Mukden. With this position firmly held at center and on its flanks it would be impossible for the Japanese to drive in their cork in the neck of the bottle between Fushan and Mukden. To the average strategist, indeed, universally among strategists, the view would prevail after a glance of the battlefield as it lay at the opening of the struggle that there was the real vital point to the attack as well as to the defense. In the opening days of the battle events all shaped themselves to bear out this view. General Kuropatkin manifestly thought so. Here he threw the weight of vast numbers of troops and thought victory near when the Japanese attack from this quarter had been fought to a standstill. Logically, Fushan was the chief danger point, and the fact that Marshal Oyama, the Japanese commander, chose another strategical solution for the problem is among his achievements that have resulted in the appellation of "The Napoleon of the Orient."

Just as on the west, the Russian lines were far afield from the actual key position at Mukden, so on their left, or eastern positions their lines formed a far-reaching protective barrier, 20 miles away. As has been said, the main front on the east stretched away from the Sha-ho, thirty-five miles eastward to the Taitse River, which winds in a general northeasterly direction from Liao-yang. The defensive position of importance was at Tsinketchen, in the foothills of the Sierras, which run across Manchuria, and finally reach the east coast of Korea.

The only practicable path northward for the Japanese army was to skirt these foothills to the passes, northeast from Tsinketchen and Bentsiaputze and then debouch into the valley of the Hun River and fight their way northward to Fushan, the rugged nature of the country eastward from that place practically preventing any opportunity for play of strategy in a turning movement to strike northeast of the city. One of the wonders of the war and one of the most amazing of the feats constantly accomplished by the Japanese has been the skill and success with which they have attacked and captured mountain positions. General Kuroki in the campaign which, after a few months followed the victory of the Yalu, repeatedly drove the Russians from veritable Thermopylæs and in the fighting on every front which preceded the surrounding of the Russian army at Liao-yang the Japanese were constantly confronted with the necessity of making frontal attacks on mountain defiles which seemed to offer impregnable shelter to the defenders.

So also in the campaign on the east in the battle of Mukden. General Kuropatkin chose his defensive positions with skill. No pains were spared in fortifying the gaps in the mountain ridges through which the Japanese must pass. The principal routes open were through Da Pass and Gauto Pass. While these were the main defensive positions the Russians pushed fifteen miles further southward toward the enemy, and the earlier reverses at Tsinketchen were only fairly unimportant preludes to the battling at these mountain passes. The Russian line on the east had less geometrical regularity than the line of the west owing to the nature of the topography. The lines from the front extended to the foothills, as has been pointed out, and then were concentrated at the passes, the danger points, offering only a limited battle line until the fighting had swept over the mountains into the Valley of the Hun. What with artillery of a thousand guns and an army of 75,000 men only called upon to defend positions of vast natural strength, there was little wonder then when the open guns of the battle rolled over the plains in the west, General Kuropatkin concentrated his attention to the centre and gave little thought to events on his left. As it turned out the General's confidence was well founded. In all the war no braver or more stubborn or more successful fight has been waged by any Russian force than was waged by the army under Lieutenant-General Linevitch and General Rennenkampff on this flank. It has been said that the Japanese were fought to a standstill. That statement is literally true, and only the beginning of the Russian retreat made it possible for General Kuroki, the Japanese Commander here, to play any conspicuous part in the total disaster which befell the Russian Army.

To summarize, the position in which General Kuropatkin found himself at the opening of the battle was an admirable one from every standpoint. His defensive lines fitted in well with the topography of the country. Broad rivers, rugged mountains, apparently impregnable mountain passes, commanding hills on front and flanks promised to aid materially in his defence. His army was nearly of equal strength with that of the enemy, while superior natural positions compensated for the slight deficiency of men. In the long winter months every possible means of communication from one to another of the units of his army had been perfected, while, apparently unassailable, stretched a great railroad behind him offering ready link between the front and the Russian base of supplies for all of Manchuria. His army had been recuperated, was eager to fight, and would be called upon to defend fortified positions, heavily supplied with artillery, a position which, as history plainly proves, brings out the best qualities of the Russian soldier. So far as the centre was concerned he had no fear. Lone Tree Hill, or, as he renamed it for the Russian who led the charge that had recaptured it from the Japanese, had been made as nearly impregnable as men and arms could make a position made by nature for defensive fighting. So westward, so eastward, topography, the condition of his army, the whole aspect of the field, spoke only of a repulse to the Japanese attack. Then would come the offensive against a worn-out army, then the victory for which all Russia was clamoring and upon which depended the future of the Commander-in-Chief himself.

When the smoke of the battle of the Sha-ho cleared away it left the Japanese armies masters of practically the same territory they had occupied at the conclusion of the pursuit of the Russian after the victory at Liao-yang. General Kuroki, commanding the Japanese right army, had fallen back from Bentsiaputze to Bensihu, a distance of twenty miles; but this move had been made to correct the alignment of the army with the centre, at the Sha-ho River as a basis. Certainly, no great effort was made to advance this force after the initial Russian successes on this flank after the battle of the Sha-ho. Some advantages attached to the position finally occupied by General Kuroki, hence the view that he was impelled by strategic reasons when he had failed to advance, rather than by inability to retake the lost positions farther north. At the centre, which followed the south bank of the Sha-ho River, the Russians had succeeded in retaking Lone Tree Hill in the closing hours of the battle, and had a decided advantage. Every possible effort was made to retake the position, but when called upon for this effort the Japanese were exhausted by twelve days of incessant fighting, and they failed. Marshal Oyama, at the centre, therefore, was confronted by a practically impregnable position. Westward, on the left flank of the Japanese Army, the Russians were less aided by natural features of the country than at any other point. Their lines crossed the Sha-ho just west of the railroad and then spread northeastward through a series of villages dotting a comparatively level plain lying between the Sha-ho and the Hun Rivers. Of all the positions on the entire Russian front this seemed to offer the best opportunity for attack, for while an advance would have to be made over an open country, approach to the Russians' positions was facilitated by the innumerable villages in this fertile river plain. On the other hand, the Japanese were open to the same style of advance, and both commanders made unusual preparations to defend this angle of the great battlefield.

The Japanese lines along the front were merely a parallel of the Russian lines which have been described, except that while on the west and on the centre the entrenchments were only a few hundred yards separated, the lines farther east, except for outpost positions, were separated by distances ranging from five to fifteen miles, as developed when the operations of the Battle of Mukden were actually under way.

To the Japanese Commander-in-Chief the general situation could not have been particularly reassuring, except that he could count on the indomitable efforts of an unbeaten and fanatically brave army. So far as the topography was concerned, the enemy had every advantage. In all a very difficult and interesting problem was presented as the Mikado's hosts settled down for their long winter inaction.

Liao-yang was made the Japanese base after the occupation of that city, and the Engineer Corps performed a notable feat in the speedy manner in which the railroad running northward from Port Arthur was made over for the use of Japanese engines and cars. The Russians had a five-foot gauge, while the Japanese rolling stock was built to the standard measurement. This fact made necessary the relaying of the entire line, a task which was promptly completed, thereby affording the inland army base ready communication with the general supply base at Dalny and at Port Arthur after the capture of that port. In addition to this line of communication the Japanese had a line to the Yalu. Stores for the right army were landed at the mouth of the Yalu River, and then were transported overland on a light railroad for which horses were the motive power, to points well in reach of General Kuroki. Both of these lines of communication were vital to an army that had now penetrated two hundred miles inland and were the first consideration when the flanks and protective units were being placed in their winter quarters. The Liao-yang-Yalu line proved to have been safeguarded against danger, but Cossack raiders in January twice encircled the Japanese left army, penetrated to the railroad at Yinkow, and damaged the line. In each case the damage done was quickly repaired. The second raiding party was so nearly cut off and so nearly annihilated in its flight to the Russian lines and activities on a broader scale so soon after were begun, that no further attempts of the kind were attempted. Such trifling inconvenience resulted from these perilous raids that it would seem that the Russians were hardly recompensed for the sacrifice of life. Certainly, the vast bulk of all needed stores and ammunition were already within the Japanese lines before the attempts were made, and Marshal Oyama, in all probability, could have fought the entire battle of Mukden without further need of the railroad, particularly as no Japanese retreat resulted from that struggle. The incidents only bore out the long held reputation of the Cossacks for reckless bravery. Indeed, the Japanese have repeatedly expressed their admiration for the Cossacks as a foe worthy of their steel.

With his front well aligned, and with every possible precaution taken to safeguard his lines of communication, the question then before the Japanese Commander-in-Chief was the strategy to mark a resumption of hostilities. At Liao-yang, despite the sweeping nature of the victory, there can be no doubt that the Japanese were bitterly disappointed when, despite tremendously determined efforts to prevent their escape, practically the whole Russian Army had disentangled itself from a well-set net and had escaped to occupy new positions there to be fought all over again. The first thought in all of the planning of the new campaign that was to succeed the winter of inactivity, was to accomplish the actual envelopment of General Kuropatkin, forcing upon the Russian Commander a surrender as the only alternative to annihilation. The line of action decided upon is fully revealed in the details of the battle to be told later. This program of complete destruction stands out even more plainly than at Liao-yang. It came far nearer realization than in that struggle, and was not concluded with the mere taking of Mukden; but like the tentacles of a great octopus, Marshal Oyama's grim determination for complete annihilation of the foe spread far northward beyond the scene of the initial victory and relentlessly realized in large measure all that he had hoped.

In brief, the plan was to hold the Russian centre in a combat which, however desperate and bloody, was only a feint. While this struggle went on with apparent success to Russian arms, the right and left flanks as aligned east and west of the Sha-ho were to press home an attack calculated slowly to bend back the Russians toward their line of retreat northward from Mukden.

But the culminating fact in the entire plan was an entirely separate blow at the Russian rear north of Mukden by an army which, while it no doubt figured in the Russian calculations of probabilities, eventually burst into the plain eastward from Sinmintin with a fury of surprise attack which ultimately crumbled the entire scheme of Russian defence.

That army was made up of the conquerors of Port Arthur. The fall of that fortress released a host of 80,000 seasoned fighters, flushed with a victory that filled the world with awe and admiration. Just so soon as the details of the surrender had been completed this force was under way northward to reinforce Marshal Oyama. At its head was the savagely brave Nogi, who had just won for himself undying place in the history of Japan by successfully reducing the Gibraltar of the Orient. Swift from the scene of one great triumph he was speeding to another. It was in the disposition of this force that all of the genius of Oyama was expended. When he sent Nogi westward in a wide circuit to swing completely around the Russian right army, to plunge northward by forced marches as far as Simintin and then bend eastward to burst upon the Russian rear, sweeping within five miles of their lines before an adequate defence could be provided, he settled the fate of Russia's great army of nearly a half million men. He struck a blow that made an awful rout possible, and the blow that made possible the final disaster, the forced abandonment of Tie Pass, that left the Russian Army a demoralized horde of panicked troops facing northward into the bleak stretches of Northern Manchuria.

By this blow he added the final humiliation to Russia's greatest soldier, Kuropatkin, and lost that erstwhile leader with half of a century of popular adulation behind him, the command of Russia's Armies in Manchuria. He ended every hope of an offensive campaign in Manchuria, achieving at a stroke every result that for which a year's campaign had been allotted.

Nogi's army swept into the ranks of the opposing Russians, shouting, "Out of the way for us; we're from Port Arthur". To them fighting in the open country face to face with the enemy was as child's play compared with the horrors they had faced in scaling the bristling mountainsides north of Port Arthur. There they advanced against hidden terrors that lurked behind dull gray walls of huge forts; they braved the cunningly devised high priests of death that are hidden underground and work havoc and disaster when victory seems within grasp. They had looked death in the face in a hundred hidden forms unflinchingly, had fought and conquered a foe behind vast walls. Here there was only man to man. Shells burst overhead, scattering deadly shrapnel, but what was that to the rain of ponderous steel from siege guns that tore out the face of hillsides and annihilated regiments at a single puff. These were the men who, with a strident battle cry of scorn for the ease of the task, swept through thirty miles in a single day, trampling Russian regiments under foot, storming over fortified towns as though no men or guns were there, right up to the gates of Mukden, right where their guns could search the huddled ranks of Russians, fleeing from the destructible force that was welding a ring around them. Nature finally checked them. Up from the Manchurian plains a mighty wind swept a blinding simoon that halted their irresistible host at the moment when they were driving home the last fatal blow. For a day the whole battlefield was wrapped in a blinding curtain of sweeping sand. When once again Nogi's men could take up the work they had begun the bulk of the Russian force had fled past. Undaunted they swept northward, and four days later, when the beaten and dispersed army was reorganizing its ranks from the chaos of the flight, it was Nogi's men, springing once more out of the west, that set Kuropatkin's whole remnant in flight again, leaving behind them the last fortified position in Southern Manchuria. Oyama planned, but the palm for the victories of Mukden and the further flight from Tie Pass belongs to Nogi and the host that took Port Arthur.

This was indeed the master stroke of the battle, nevertheless a way had to be prepared for it by tremendously desperate work on every quarter of the long battle line. As vigorous as was the assault made on the Russian front, there can be no doubt that this was nothing more than a feint. The readiness with which the Japanese Commander-in-Chief sacrificed thousands of lives in assaults of a secondary nature is one of the significant things of the story of the battle. Such methods are reminiscent of Grant's massed attacks in the closing days of the Civil War, when life was counted as nothing when in the scale beside the value of victory. No pang for the sacrifice reached the heart of Oyama or the Generals under him who were directing the assaults. Victory was the stake, and the soldiers were there to die, if need be. They died by files and ranks and regiments. But victory was won. Over against the total of the blood-letting in their own ranks was the awful slaughter of the enemy, here, as in every battle of the war, far heavier in the Russian totals than with the Japanese. Two generations have come since the famous struggle of Gettysburg, yet statisticians are still struggling to determine the exact number who fought and died there or who remained alive, as victor and vanquished. The actual figures are still only approximately known. Multiply the difficulties of accounting for the less than two hundred thousand who fought at Gettysburg an hundredfold, and something of the difficulty of getting at the actual facts of the battle at Mukden begin to be realized. Ultimately, the Japanese may give the details, but no actual statement of the number of Russians engaged, of the losses in killed, wounded and missing, may be expected. The story forms too tragic a page in the history of the nation ever to be willingly spread broadcast.

Prelude to the Great Battle—Gripenberg Fails and Quits Army—The Battle Begins—The Struggle on the East Front—The Battle at the Center—Battle Culminates on the West—Village by Village Taken—Russian Artillery Impotent—When the Crushing Blow Fell—A Cloud in the West—Kuropatkin Ignores Danger—Center Positions Abandoned—Japanese Ingenuity Marvelous—Retreat a Carnival of Slaughter—Oyama's Prophecy Fulfilled.

There was a prelude to the actual battle fought early in January by a portion of the Russian right flank under General Gripenberg, which is chiefly interesting for its effect in the Russian ranks. Whatever may have been the purpose of the attack, it failed. Heiketau, a town in the angle of the Hun and Liao Rivers, was the scene of the opening attack. Here the Japanese had an outpost in sight of the Russian lines. Resistance was made to the advance until it was seen that the Russians were in earnest and that a large force was actually about to give battle. Thereupon the Japanese outpost fell back on the main position at Sandiapu, three miles away, the Russians following. For two days a severe fight waged around their position, and General Gripenberg made enough gains on the first day to give rise to the belief that he was in position to break the entire Japanese line, divide their army, flank the centre, and compel a retreat. He sent an urgent representation of the situation to General Kuropatkin, asking for reinforcements, and, taking for granted that these would be sent, he plunged in on the second day to win, at last, a victory for Russia. The force against which he had thrown three divisions consisted of a single division of the Japanese, who counted on stopping the advance by dint of the earthworks protecting Sandiapu. Before morning of the second day General Oku, exhibiting the rare initiative and resourcefulness common to all of the Japanese generals, was ready to deal a crushing blow to Gripenberg, and the Russian General in his eagerness to take advantage of the opportunity which he believed had been opened by the apparent advantages of the first day of the fight, fell into one of the most deadly of the many traps from time to time set for Russian commanders.

To make sure that the Russians would not fail to renew the attack, General Oku caused a decoy battery of useless guns to sweep into position in full view of the Russian lookouts. The bait was too tempting. Gripenberg advanced on the dummy battery into a triangle of death. Batteries on three sides held their fire until the Russian lines had swept into practically point blank range. Then there burst over them a rain of shrapnel and a deadly sweep of rifle fire which spread confusion as hundreds were mowed down. Retreat from the death zone became rout, and General Gripenberg, with Oku's men in full pursuit, left ten thousand dead and wounded behind him in their flight to safety within the main Russian lines north of the Sha-ho. The fight was unimportant in itself, but it led to a personal encounter between Generals Kuropatkin and Gripenberg, which added to the demoralization already existing among the officers of the Russian Army. General Gripenberg bitterly assailed Kuropatkin for having failed to send reinforcements. Kuropatkin declared the only possible value of attack at that time and place was to uncover the strength of the enemy and to reconnoitre his positions, that a general engagement was folly and could not hope to achieve anything. For be it known, the initial advance had been made in a driving blizzard. General Gripenberg gave up his command and left the front for St. Petersburg to lay charges of incapability against the Commander-in-Chief and to join the group at the Russian Capital engaged in intrigue for the downfall of Kuropatkin.

In the army the line and staff officers took sides in the bitter controversy that followed, and possibly the fight at Sandiapu, itself so insignificant, did more in the end to bring the disaster of Mukden and Tie Pass than can be estimated. A commander-in-chief, without the confidence of the officers of staff and line, can hardly hope to command the confidence of the men in the ranks. To say the least, the incident, coming so soon before the army was to be locked in a life and death struggle, was not calculated to add to the chances that victory would crown Russian arms.

The battle was actually begun on the initiative of the Japanese. By February 19, Marshal Oyama believed he was ready to begin the struggle for Mukden. He prefaced the battle by the prophecy that Mukden would be occupied by his army on March 10, a prophecy which caused only merriment in Russia, but which was literally fulfilled. To General Kuroki was given the honor of firing the first guns of the renewal of the campaign. General Kuroki, after the battle of the Sha-ho River, had wintered on the southern bank of the Taitze River, the centre of his army resting in the neighborhood of Bensihu, thirty-five miles east of Yentai. The Russian line was ten miles north, and the first place to be taken was Tsinkhetchen, at a point where the level river country began to rise to the Tie range of mountains, running in a generally northwest-southeast direction across all of Manchuria, into Mongolia northward, and into Korea southward, passing along the eastern side of the Russian triangle. The task assigned to Kuroki was to drive the Russians from Tsinkhetchen into the foothills to the passes of the mountains, then to take these and to debouch his army on the plains of the Hun River, twenty miles east of Mukden, and eastward of Fushun, then to strike northwestward toward the railroad and line of retreat of the Russian Army northward from Mukden, joining at the railroad the forces under Oku and Nogi, which were to attack from the west.

Kuroki's army got under way February 19, crossing the first of the rivers, the Taitse, without opposition. Then the advance was made northward to the Sha-ho, and here the Russian lines were encountered. A surprise night attack cleared away the Russians guarding the Sha-ho at Vanupudza, ten miles east of the railroad. Kuroki then bent northeastward toward the outermost position of the Russian left, avoiding the forces commanding the hills north of the Sha-ho.

On February 24 his army delivered a tremendous assault on the Russian positions at Tsinkhetchen, preceding the infantry advance by a bombardment of great force and effectiveness. Three lines of entrenchments were literally destroyed by the fire of siege guns which had been brought from Port Arthur, and despite the tremendous difficulty involved had been placed within range of the Tsinkhetchen positions. The Russian defence was stubborn, but the Japanese were irresistible, and after a few hours of awful carnage General Rennenkampff, commanding the Russians, ordered a retreat. Kuroki failed in an effort to envelop the position, and the Russians reached in safety their main position on this flank at Da Pass. Here one of the bloodiest struggles of the war followed, opening on February 28 and continuing until March 1, when, despite one of the most gallant resistances credited to the Russians, General Kuroki flanked the Pass notwithstanding insuperable obstacles offered by the rugged nature of the country. Then followed a retreat and pursuit, every step of which was marked by fighting of the most desperate nature, thousands of bodies carpeting the gradually rolling country, which finally became the plains along the Hun. Fushun was the Japanese objective. Kuroki bent every energy to roll back the front which Rennenkampff presented, but for ten days after the plain had been reached his army was fought to a standstill. General Linevitch, commanding the division of which Rennenkampff's command was part, checkmated every attempt made to cross the Hun and flank him, while at his front he rolled back as many as thirteen infantry assaults in a single day. This section of the field was remote from the main battle line and few of the details reached the world. With the slow filtering of the story of this fighting it has become apparent that here was waged a struggle even more desperate than that which made history west of Mukden. Kuropatkin appreciated the vital necessity of preventing the turning of his left flank at Fushun, and it must be said to the credit of the Japanese that they were fighting here a force twice the size of their own and one that was continually being reinforced by every battalion that could be spared from the west. The marvel is that Kuroki's army was not utterly annihilated. It was the tremendous fight he made that compelled Kuropatkin to weaken his right to support Linevitch, and it was the fact that the right had been so weakened that made possible the brilliant victories won by the Japanese on the west. Hence, in addition to credit for the great fight he made in carrying out his own share in the battle, Kuroki stands for credit in drawing strength from other positions which materially aided in the ultimate outcome. Nevertheless, until fateful March 10, his army had been fought to a standstill within five miles of Fushun, its objective. The outcome here even encouraged Kuropatkin in the belief that the battle was going his way.

It is necessary, in recording the story of the battle, to leave Kuroki, still fighting in vain to take Fushun and open the road to the Russian rear, and to record events on other parts of the field. The battle line, when both armies had actually been joined, extended for a distance between eighty and one hundred miles. Every event at every position dovetailed into the whole strategy of the battle, yet a vast difficulty is imposed in collating all of the scattered events into a continuous story. No one observer, possibly not the Generals-in-chief themselves, could follow all of the swift moving events, and the best and at that a most difficult achievement was to follow the main trend of events interpreting separate achievements, advances, retrogressions, as they bore on the grand object of each army.

The battle of Mukden was, in fact, four battles in one. One of those battles was fought between Kuroki and Linevitch on the east. The second battle within the battle of Mukden was fought between the centre armies and focussed in the beginning of the conflict at Lone Tree, or Putiloff Hill, just east of the railroad, forty-five miles south of Mukden. Here General Nodzu commanded the Japanese and General Kuropatkin in person and General Zassulitch, divisional commander, directed the Russian defence. The battle here began on February 24, the date on which General Kuroki delivered the attack on Tsinkhetchen. General Nodzu's immediate task was to keep the Russian centre too well occupied and in fear of a general assault, thus preventing the sending of reinforcements to the flank, where Kuroki was at his important work. The artillery duel which waged around the centre positions has never been equalled in the history of war. The Russians had at this point alone 530 guns, fifty of them siege guns on permanent emplacements firing eight-inch shells. Putiloff and Novgorod Hill bristled with field and machine guns, and these commanding hills were flanked east and west by fortifications upon which five months' work had been expended and which are perhaps the finest defensive works ever erected on a battlefield.

The Russian centre was the hope of the Russian Commander. He claimed impregnability for it, and impregnable it proved. Nevertheless Nodzu sent scores of assaults at its steep slopes, and the later advances were made by the Japanese over the bodies of comrades who had fallen in earlier efforts. The Russian centre resisted without a break, and only left its positions March 7, when events elsewhere resulted in the order to fall back north of the Sha-ho. The story of the struggle here is an exact replica of many which waged in the bloody days of the siege of Port Arthur, though here the loss of life was heavier, since none of the protective engineering devices used at Port Arthur were resorted to. The assaults were simply dashes by Japanese infantry up the bare slopes of a hill rising five hundred feet in the air. It was man unprotected against steel in armor, and the man lost. Behind the Russians was the Sha-ho River. Their second line of defences was sunk in the hillsides and hilltops there. With the river in front, the ice weakened until it was questionable whether men in any numbers could make safe crossing, this position was only a little less strong than the first. All in all, it is little wonder that the Japanese Commander elected only to feint here and deal his blow at other positions. The second line, however, availed the Russians little except to hold in check the pursuit and leave General Nodzu to be only a minor factor in the culmination of the disaster that finally befell the Russians. The centre army, while it played no conspicuous part in the battle, while it was not called upon to repel, and was not expected to take the Russian positions as a vital part of the Japanese strategy, possibly even greater credit belongs to these men who died in droves, knowing that they were being sacrificed as a matter of secondary importance, that upon others elsewhere, miles and miles away, was falling the really great events and upon whom would fall the glory. Whether they knew it or not, there was no faltering. With cries of "banzai" they stormed up Putiloff Hill, up Novgorod Hill; by regiments they fell, and regiments as loyal and heroic took their places, apparently satisfied that all the sacrifice was only to prevent reinforcements from the centre from being sent to the lines northeast, northwest, where their brothers were writing victory in blood across Manchuria's plains. War is essentially waste; waste of men, waste of money. Here the spirit of waste was fully exemplified, yet the waste was a factor if victory was to be won, and Oyama sent his armies to their work bent on victory as perhaps never an army was bent on victory.

The battle of Mukden, as the whole struggle has been officially called, had its climax on the west. The strategy of Marshal Oyama, as has been explained, culminated in the attack by the army of Port Arthur veterans, commanded by General Nogi. This attack was but part of the assault on the Russian right. The actual Japanese left army was commanded by General Oku, and during the long winter season had occupied a position extending westward from the Sha-ho River to the Hun, upon which at the front the Russian right rested, though when the battle had gotten under way this line was extended fifteen miles farther west to the banks of the Liao River. General Oku's lines and also the Russian lines, which he opposed, occupied a series of unmapped villages, most of them only occupied during the spring, summer and fall, when the fertile river valleys are in cultivation, the products of the region being similar to those of the Northern Central United States, east and west from Chicago as a centre. The village huts are built of rough hewn stone, the walls being of primitive build and oftentimes twelve inches thick. Stone walls around fields are of common occurrence, so that while the country generally was level, it had in these houses and walls many features offering protection to soldiery. To-day not a wall or fence in the whole region but shows the signs of the struggle that waged around them. Immediately after the battle heaps of dead marked every one of these shelters, showing where hand to hand struggles had taken place, as the Japanese, foot by foot, from house to house, from wall to wall, from village to village, had advanced across the plain.

General Oku's attack was ferocious. To him had been assigned the task of turning the Russian right back upon Mukden at the centre to make it impossible for this force to assume an offensive initiative and swing northward to cut off Nogi when the culminating attack had been delivered. Sandiapu, that had been the scene of the desperate failure of Gripenberg, was the pivot for the Japanese attack. General Oku avoided the Russian right centre just left of the railroad, because these positions were in part commanded by Putiloff Hill, and the taking of the Russian fortifications here would only mean a falling back under the protection of Russia's impregnable centre. With Sandiapu as a pivot, however, Oku drove the attack in a northeasterly direction, rather than northward, parallel to the Russian lines. His assaults began simultaneously with Kuroki's attack at Tsinkhetchen, and in one tremendous dash the Russian line was broken, crumbled in the plain five miles north of Sandiapu, and the struggle had begun which after ten days' fighting had doubled the Russian flank back until its line, beginning at a point five miles west of the railroad, was bent back at right angles to the line it had occupied at the opening of the battle. This achievement had been accomplished in the face of a determined resistance. Throughout the struggle the artillery was rendered useless for hours at a time, while the infantry engaged in hand-to-hand struggles. The story of the attack on a single of the score or more of villages is typical of all of them.

There was a brief lull just at dawn. Then for an hour field guns roared all along the line searching for the infantry lines and batteries of the enemy. House and walls were the targets. Shells in deadly showers ground walls to dust, ploughed the fields, shaved the crowns from broken ground that might hide creeping lines of troops. An hour of systematic, sweeping bombardment, then the army was ready for the business of the hour. From cover on every side little squads of Japanese troops dashed into the open. Ten yards they sped then threw themselves prone on the ground wherever any approach to protection could be found.

Now it was the turn of the Russian guns to bark. From all along their lines in the dusk of dawn resounded the din of artillery. The open, when the advance had begun, instantly grew lividly aflame with bursting shrapnel. It seemed that nothing could live under that awful baptism of steel. Then the din subsided before the Japanese, glasses glued to their eyes, could catch telltale feathers of smoke that even the smokeless powder sends out from big guns. The echoes of the guns are still reverberating far away among the foothills, when up from the ground again spring those lithe, invincible shadows that speed once more ten yards or more and then vanish as they hug the earth. Where there were five, three have survived; here and there a single one gets up to continue the advance where a group had been. But from behind others are making these short dashes, too. The plain finally is fairly alive with troops, dashing forward, taking cover, dashing forward again. Five hundred yards away when they started, their numbers are already thinning when the first hundred yards has been crossed. Others fill the gaps and two hundred yards are crossed, and in the growing light it can be seen that strewn all along the line of the advance are forms that lie stark and still when the living spring to action for those unhalting sprints.

Now Russian riflemen are heard from. Rifles crackle from every side, and then death begins high carnival. But the advance goes on. No rising now and speeding those few yards. The Japanese are crawling. The living use the bodies of the dead for protection. Often pushing these before them they cover yard by yard, the zone of death. Now only a hundred yards divides them from the outermost huts of the village. Hotter and hotter becomes the fire of the defenders. In a moment the assault has begun. A hundred, two hundred, are on their feet. Bullets eat holes in their ranks, but only the dead falter. Presently, with the ring of steel on steel, the ranks close. The rifle fire is fitful in the disorder of hand-to-hand fighting. Then up from all parts of the open rise scores of Japanese. They sweep into the midst of the fray, whole companies still coming press the fight. Back through the village from house to house, from wall to wall, goes on the hand-to-hand, man to man duel. Never once did the Japanese fail in the early days of the struggle to drive back the Russian defenders, for when one such attack failed there were countless others eager to begin again the same tactics.

The Russians seemed demoralized by the apparent impotency of their artillery to prevent these advances. Often the Russian lines suffered by their shrapnel, so thoroughly was the ground in front of their positions searched by their gunners. Nevertheless, the guns had hardly hushed before men seemed to spring from the ground and speed on toward them. To the more superstitious there was something uncanny about this little foe. The only solution was the open ranks, the each-man-for-himself, the use of every fragment of shelter. Russian solid formations fairly melted as they rushed into the Japanese shrapnel fire. A single shell mowed down a score. It took ten shells at least to disable a single Japanese because of the way they scattered out over the field.

Just behind the final advance of the main force which never moved until the skirmish attack had engaged the Russians too closely for either artillery or a destructive rifle fire, came the engineers with telegraph and telephone equipment. Bamboo poles were swiftly in place, and yard by yard the wire followed the advance. Presently at Oku's headquarters, usually the shelter of a hut within a mile of the actual fighting, would come the thick click, click of the telegraph or the jingle of the telephone. "We have taken the village" was usually the message.

Thus village after village was taken in this memorable struggle, until, as has been told, the Russian line had been driven from miles of positions upon which months of labor had been expended and in the closing days of the battle were paralleling the railroad from the Sha-ho to a point five miles northwest of Mukden. Oku had done his part.

Thus we have told the story of the battle on the Japanese right, centre and rear, up to the time when the assault of the Port Arthur army was to be launched. The battle had continued without intermission from February 24 to March 5. The Japanese on the right or east front had driven back the enemy from his advanced positions across the rugged hills of the Tie range and was battling to drive back that flank on the railroad and to effect an advance to reach a position in the rear of Mukden. At the centre a struggle had gone on without decisive result because, largely, the Japanese only planned to keep this part of the enemy's line busy with fighting until the flank-attack armies achieved positions, either in the rear of Mukden or near enough to strike, and strike hard at the foe should he be compelled to retreat. Oku's army, we have seen, came nearest to accomplishing this task. So far as the actual results of the fighting of these three armies were concerned, while the Japanese everywhere had outfought and had outgeneralled the Russians, there was nothing accomplished which made the situation particularly alarming to Kuropatkin. His left flank, eastward had been driven in twenty miles but with the aid of heavy reinforcements he had checked the enemy five miles away from Fushan and when March 5 drew to a close the reports from that direction to the Commander-in-Chief not only recounted that every assault by the Japanese had been repulsed but that after thirteen bloody reverses on March 4, Kuroki seemed to be drawing away to the south.

Hope rose high in the mind of the Russian General. He believed that this attack on the east had been the real strength of the Japanese attack. He perceived that the Japanese had not been in earnest at the center and he attributed reverses on his right to the fact, that he had withdrawn a full division from Lieutenant-General Kaulbars, commanding there and he hoped, now that Kuroki seemed to have given up the struggle, that he could withdraw a force from the east, throw it into the fight west of the railroad, turn the tide against Oku and win a negative victory by defeating the manifest purpose of the Japanese to drive him from the Sha-ho River positions. While his right flank had been bent back through an arc of ninety degrees from the original position on the Hun River they still held a strong line five miles west of the railroad. The falling back of these troops had resulted in a loss of ground but had also resulted in a strong concentration and his lines were capable of greater resistance as a result. Then, too, the Japanese had been fighting continuously for twelve days and must be near the limits of human endurance. Altogether when the sun went down on the field the Russian Commander felt that victory was near. He did not expect a decisive, positive victory but after so long a series of disasters even that sort of victory which consisted only in having prevented the enemy from forcing the abandonment of a position, would have sent a thrill of joy and hope through the army and the Russian nation. It would have inspired the army with confidence for its work. It would have been a weapon at home against the revolutionist, the opponent of the war, the foes of the dynasty. For the General himself it meant a return of confidence in his leadership on the part of the army, on the part of the Emperor. It would go far toward wiping out the record of unbroken defeat, retreat, disaster which had marked the entire campaign. Victory was more vital to Kuropatkin, personally, than to Russia. The General was fighting as much for personal vindication as for the glory of Russian arms. To him, therefore, the outlook for even a negative success was charged with personal happiness.

This was the outlook when day dawned, March 5, 1905. By nightfall of that same day a cloud, no larger then than a man's hand, was rising in the west that was to break in a storm, crushing the Russian defense, banishing the dreams of Kuropatkin. That cloud was the army of General Nogi.

Port Arthur capitulated January 2, 1905. A week later General Nogi stood within the heart of the Russian settlement there and reviewed companies from the various army units that had participated in the siege. Out to the world went the message that Nogi's great task was accomplished. But there was other work for Nogi. Within three weeks after the Gibraltar of the Orient had fallen, 80,000 troops, released by that event were bound northward to join the armies under Marshal Oyama, then in winter quarters facing Kuropatkin. The army had been reinforced largely from Japan with fresh troops who had not known the smell of smoke. Enough of these had been sent to equal any possible reinforcement that could be sent to Kuropatkin, as nearly as this number could be estimated. Nogi's army meant reinforcement of an entirely different kind. Here were men inured to the rigors of campaigning by eleven months of as arduous fighting as ever fell to troops in all of the history of war. By the first week in February the entire army had reached its new position west of Liao-yang, ready for whatever mission might be assigned to it. That task was the actual capture of Mukden. More than that, Nogi's men were called upon to break the defence on the east, to strike the railroad north of Mukden, to intercept the line of retreat and to join with Kuroki in the enveloping of the Russian army. It was the crowning work of the battle. It was a tribute to the bravery and skill of the men who had humbled Port Arthur. It was one that meant hardship, all but superhuman exertion, but if they succeeded it meant that chief credit for another great victory would belong to this army of veterans.

Nogi's work did not begin until the battle had been well developed on every front. His was to take up the work begun against the Russian right flank by Oku and with a fresh army carry it to a conclusion. As has been shown, Oku prepared the way in a splendid manner. He broke the Russian lines and rolled back the flank from the plains east and west of the Hun River. When this had been accomplished Nogi's army got under way. Leaving their positions west of Liao-yang, the veterans sped northwards. They crossed the Hun at a point a few miles above the junction of the Hun and Liao Rivers where two days before Oku had begun forcing back the Russians. His army after the crossing, was divided, one small detachment, amply supplied with artillery moving swiftly northeastward to the Liao; thence northward to Sinmintin, thirty-five miles due west of Mukden. This city was outside the limits of the war zone as laid down by the Powers in their agreement to preserve the neutrality of China. Nevertheless it had been a veritable supply depot for the Russians, caravans of foodstuffs of all kinds and even of ammunition coming from Chinese points on the Siberian border and from southern coast cities to deliver contraband here to waiting bands of Cossacks. As a result of this use of the city by the Russians the Japanese did not hesitate to enter there. They found a few Cossacks and a great horde of Russian civil officials together with great stores of supplies most of it in carts as it had reached the city ready to start westward for the Russian base at Mukden. Some prisoners were taken but no goods that were not actually in the possession of Russian civil and military officials were seized.

The detachment then began the dash westward along the Sinmintin-Mukden road toward Mukden. On the morning of January 5, they formed a junction with the main force that had marched northward on a line parallel with the railroad, twenty miles west of the Russians and, of course, had met no opposition, so effectively had Oku prepared the way. The news of the arrival of the Japanese at Sinmintin, March 5, was the first intimation of this movement and General Kuropatkin ignored the news imagining that the force had only been a handful of Japanese cavalry raiders. They were raiders, in fact, but there were 80,000 of them and they were under orders from Marshal Oyama to enter Mukden as conquerors on March 10.

In their four days' march northward Nogi's army covered 30 miles the first day, 25 miles the second day, 23 miles the third day and 28 miles the fourth day, and after that tremendous feat their real work was before them. The army turned eastward at the Sinmintin-Mukden road, twenty miles from Mukden, and five miles nearer Mukden they met the first resistance. As a protection to Mukden, Kuropatkin had thrown three lines of protective works eastward. Nogi's army came upon the first of these March 6. His troops, swept over the Russian defenders like the sea over a sunken wreck, so swiftly had come the overwhelming attack. March 7, the veterans covered the distance to the second line of defences. In the meantime Kuropatkin had awakened. He saw that he was in danger of being overwhelmed from this unexpected quarter. His visions of victory of March 4, were already fleeting and only two days had gone by. Every available squadron from centre and left were ordered post-haste to meet the danger. The Russian lines that up to this time had only been called upon to concentrate by orderly retrograde movements were called upon to reform the whole line, falling back from his impregnable position at the center, south of the Sha-ho. There was movement everywhere. On the east regiment after regiment moved out and the remaining regiments realigned themselves. This fact is important because it brought Kuroki's opportunity to fulfil the mission that had been entrusted to him and will be told later. Meantime Nogi's veterans rushed on unchecked until March 8, when the Russian resistance showed the strength that had come with the reinforcements. Baron General Kaulbars took immediate command, met and placed the arriving Russian regiments and displayed finer generalship than any general in the entire Russian line throughout the battle. On the east Rennenkampf had splendid plans for offensive movements until General Kuroki made a move, then his plans crumbled like houses of cards and he fought only a defensive fight from start to finish, brilliant though his resistance may have been. But Kaulbars, when his force had been completed, met Nogi manfully and the duel between these great captains forms a notable addition to the history of military achievement.

For all the magnificent offensive ability of the Russian General, however, Nogi's veterans would not be denied. The first fifteen miles of their advance was like the rush of a hurricane. Then came the real fighting. This continued March 8, 9, 10, in which time the Russians had been forced back literally step by step on Mukden. Calmly the Japanese General ordered assault after assault on the Russian lines ignoring the heaps of the dead that, when the third day of the battle had brought decisive victory, numbered 20,000 choked into the narrow line of advance through those last five miles to Mukden. The shells from his artillery swept the railroad and the Trade Road that runs beside the railroad over which the Russian center was retreating. If Nogi, in those three days saw 20,000 of his brave men fall and if this imperturbable soldier felt any pang there was balm in the fact that he had inflicted a loss on the enemy of three for every one of his own men who had fallen.

In the course of the three days whole new chapters were written into books of strategy. The Japanese General and troops answered once for all the accusation that they were mere imitators of western methods. Among the uncanny tricks that they successfully used many have no equal in military annals. Taking advantage of the first dust which began to rise on the second day and played an important part in the whole of the battle, a Japanese force turned their backs on the Russians and fired into the ranks of their own men pushing on behind them. The Russians took the force thus engaged for reinforcements and valorously aided them in holding off the Japanese pursuit. Meantime, back, back, step by step this mock Russian battle line drew nearer and nearer the duped Russians. Presently when only a few yards separated them they turned with the savage battlecry that had carried them over the ramparts of Rihlung fort and practically annihilated the victims of the ruse. This was only one of many unheard of acts which marked the path of Nogi to victory. When shells from his artillery began to reach the railroad his battle front turned as on a pivot around the little town of Tatchekiao and the advance was directed not directly toward Mukden but to a point five miles north of that city as part of the effort to envelop the Russians and more particularly to cut off the retreat. Thereupon the Russian resistance was redoubled in fury. With reinforcements that had been sent to this danger point the Russians outnumbered the Japanese two to one. But just as it was of more and more importance for the Russians to hold Nogi in check so it was more and more important for Nogi to crush the resistance and to drive his wedge in on Mukden. The struggle at every moment was hand to hand. The artillery on both sides fired into the indiscriminate masses of struggling men. Absolute frenzy marked the struggle as waged on both side.

Slowly but surely the Russian resistance weakened and with dismay Kuropatkin saw that his flank could not withstand the weight of the incessant attack. If the flank should be broken it meant annihilation or surrender for his entire force. Retreat would be impossible except at inhuman sacrifice of life. Already shells were reaching the railroad while the battle was swinging northeastward toward the line of retreat and every possible man had been thrown into the defence. There was only one thing to be done—retreat, and the order went forth on the evening of March 7. Under cover of darkness every available car had been loaded with stores, guns, whatever could be saved. Troops in Mukden piled into miles of box-cars that soon after midnight began the dash northward. The rearguard was organized of the troops then opposing Nogi and such of those from the center as could be made available. These retreated eastward from Mukden leaving as the last of the center army passed northward toward Tie Pass, the next station. The flank that had so long opposed Kuroki in the last crumbling of the Russian defence was completely cut off. The disorder along the front occasioned by the hasty withdrawal of reinforcements for the hard pressed right flank west of Mukden has been mentioned. Kuroki, who amazed the Russians by the readiness with which he interpreted every move that they made, saw in this disorder his opportunity. He had been battling for an opportunity to pierce the Russian line and join with Nogi, but fairly had been checked and held by the tremendous resistance of Rennenkampf. A brigade fell back from in front of the left flank of his army. Another stood ready to fall into its place. But while the very manœuvre was being carried out Kuroki struck hard directly between the two forces. His wedge went deep into the Russian ranks and the Japanese General threw in behind them every available unit of his army. Desperately the Russians struggled to crush the foe and rejoin their broken lines but the Japanese, every man of them, knew that their hour had come. Thousands fell but thousands took their places. Mile by mile went Kuroki's wedge and by March 10, when on the west Nogi was forcing the vanguard of his fighting line into Mukden, Kuroki at last had won a position from which to strike the long line of Russians now surging northward in a retreat that had now become a rout.

Mukden had been taken. Nogi had fulfilled Oyama's prophecy. So far as the long struggle had been for possession of the Sha-ho River position and Mukden it was over. The Japanese had won a momentous victory. Vast spoils had fallen into their possession. Fully twenty thousand prisoners had surrendered when Kuroki had broken through the Russian left, completing the circle of steel around whatever of the Russian army had not already made good its escape north of the line from Fushan to Mukden. There were hundreds of thousands of shells, millions of rounds of small ammunition; there were stores enough to feed the army for months, there was Russian property valued at millions, there were guns, horses, wagons, railroad material, enough for one hundred and fifty miles of track. There was also the knowledge that a loss in men had been inflicted three times as great as the Japanese had suffered. Mukden and Fushan and a score of smaller towns and cities had been taken, invaluable coal mines were now within the Japanese lines practically the last upon which the Russians could rely for fuel with which to operate the railroad. The victory, indeed, from every standpoint, save one, was complete.

This escape had been effected, because despite the wonderful extent of their victory the Japanese armies had failed to meet across the north of the Russian position before the bulk of Kuropatkin's army had swept out of the mouth of the bottle. Nature herself saved them. When on the evening of March 7, Kuropatkin ordered the retreat the great battlefield had already become enveloped in tremendous clouds of blinding dust and snow swirled up from the dry plains by a tremendous gale. Beginning on March 7, this veritable cyclone increased in fury throughout the night of March, 8, and continued with unbroken severity during March 9, 10 and 11, days vital to the Russian army. In the main the Japanese suffered most from the storm. Their object was to find the foe and attack, the Russian object was simply to plunge northward toward safety. Ultimately the storm had reached a degree of violence which made sight impossible and the Japanese pursuit was halted at a moment when it seemed that the full purpose of their Generals' strategy was to be realized. When two days later they were able to take up the pursuit the possibility of complete success had passed. But there was still opportunity to strike the fleeing army and the horrors of that flight and pursuit, from March 12 to March 15, will never adequately be told. The Japanese forced a way parallel to the line of pursuit on both sides and clung relentlessly to the routed army. Here a company was annihilated by furious cavalry charge. Here a regiment was cut off, surrounded and compelled to surrender after awful slaughter. Forty thousand prisoners were taken in the four days of this carnival of slaughter and when the remnants of the Russian army had reached Tie Pass, forty-three miles away, Kuropatkin had lost 170,000 men, killed, wounded and missing. His army had lost fifty per cent. of its strength, a slaughter not equalled in the history of civilization. No parallel exists until the half mythological days of Asian conflicts are reached.

Battle of the Japan Sea—Fleet Russia's Last Hope—Tragedy of the North Sea—Reaches Asiatic Waters—On the Eve of the Struggle—Russians in Double Line—Borodino First to Go Down—Russians in Full Flight—Admiral Nebogatoff Surrenders—Togo's Reports of the Battle—Rozhdestvensky a Prisoner—Searching Sea for Remnants—Japan's Loss Only 424 Men—Your Utmost for the Empire—Russian Line Enveloped—Destroyers Took Last Thrust—As Sailors Saw the Battle—Blowing up the Izumrud—The News Reaches Russia—Russian Story of Disaster—Why Russians Were Defeated.

The Japanese-Russian war has added many pages of awe-inspiring achievement to the vast volume of the world's valorous records of land and sea. Notable, among all of the amazing array, ever will stand the naval battle of the Sea of Japan, fought in the Straits of Korea, Sunday, May 28; Monday, May 29, and continuing as a pursuit on Tuesday, May 30, 1905. Russia's enormous armada of thirty-seven fighting ships, and one hundred ships in all, had been sent to the Far East to recover command of the sea from Japan, which had been won from her in the naval campaign of 1904, when the Russian Port Arthur fleet had been destroyed and the Russian Vladivostok squadron had been weakened to a helpless condition. The result was overwhelming victory for Japan, achieved at the cost to Russia of the annihilation of her entire armada. No naval battle of history equals this in the enormous power of the fighting array; none exceeds it in the degree of its decisiveness. Trafalgar, a hundred years earlier, affords the only possible parallel, and Trafalgar, for a century the world's greatest naval struggle, was outdone.

The story begins eight months before these thrilling events in the Straits of Korea, when the Russian fleet, variously called the Baltic Fleet and the Second Pacific Fleet, sailed from Cronstadt, in the Baltic, on its 20,000 mile journey, around Africa and by way of the Indian Ocean to the Orient.

The fleet represented every available Russian warship. A half dozen others, too old for active service or still in course of building, were left in Russian waters, the Czar deciding to leave the home shores practically unprotected after securing a secret agreement with Germany, which amounted to a temporary offensive and defensive alliance. The fighting strength of the squadrons included seven battleships, two armored cruisers, six cruisers, with a full complement of torpedo boat destroyers, a fleet equal, on paper, to the entire available navy of Japan, and in some aspects stronger than any Japan could hope to muster. Supreme command of the armada was entrusted to Vice-Admiral Rozhdestvensky, with three divisional commanders, Vice-Admiral Volkersham, Rear Admiral Nebogatoff, and Rear Admiral Enquist. The ultimate task of the fleet was to regain mastery of the sea from Japan, in undisputed possession by reason of having destroyed the Russian Pacific squadrons at Port Arthur and Vladivostok. Vladivostok, Russia's sole remaining port in the Orient, was the destination. From that point it was intended to assail Japan on the sea; to interrupt her transport service, which was vital to her army then in the midst of a victorious campaign, 300 miles from the sea, in the heart of Manchuria, and thus cripple and harass the Island Empire until no other course than to sue for peace would be open to her. The task was enormous; so vastly difficult, indeed, that until the actual departure of the fleet few, anywhere, believed that such a plan was seriously contemplated. Even when departure had been made, experts rather held to the view that Russia, herself, meant to ask for peace and was merely making a demonstration that might be counted on to modify Japan's demands.

The voyage had hardly been begun when an incident occurred, which has been already narrated, and which astonished the entire world and nearly led to war between Russia and Great Britain. In the North Sea, at the point known as the Dogger Bank, the Russian vessels encountered the Gamecock fishing fleet from Hull, England. The Russian admiral mistook some of the trawlers for torpedo boats and ordered his vessels to fire. One fishing boat was sunk and two men were killed, others being badly wounded.

For some days the excitement in England was intense, and British official documents published later on showed that the two countries were on the point of war, but the crisis was ended by an agreement to refer the incident to an international naval tribunal. This board of inquiry met in Paris, and after a long investigation reported that the Russian contention that hostile torpedo boats were present when the firing took place was not justified. Rozhdestvensky, however, was acquitted of the charge of conduct unbecoming a sailor, and the incident was ultimately closed by the payment of a large money indemnity by Russia.

The Dogger Bank affair caused some delay to the Russian ships, though not nearly as much as Englishmen expected. After leaving the Straits of Gibraltar the fleet divided, one division, under Admiral Rozhdestvensky, proceeding by way of the Cape of Good Hope and the other, under Admiral Vollkersham, going via the Suez Canal. Rozhdestvensky had with him most of the battleships and Voelkersam the majority of the cruisers.

Both squadrons proceeded very slowly, and the reports from time to time regarding their whereabouts were of the most puzzling character. On January 1, however, Rozhdestvensky reached Madagascar, and there he awaited the cruiser squadron. The long time spent there led to renewed assertions that the Admiralty at St. Petersburg would never order the fleet to the Far East. In the middle of March, however, reports were printed that the Russians had sailed. These reports were denied, and then repeated, and at length it was definitely established that the Baltic fleet had sailed.

Nothing more was heard of it till April 8, when the news came that the fleet had passed Singapore and was in the China Sea. On entering the China Sea, Admiral Rozhdestvensky sailed directly to Kamranh Bay, on the coast of Indo-China, in French territorial waters. The prolonged stay of the fleet resulted in a vigorous protest from Japan to France, back of which was the possibility that Japan would invoke the Anglo-Japanese alliance, calling upon Great Britain to compel respect of neutrality by France. France, in addition to instructing her representatives in Indo-China to demand that the Russians leave territorial waters, forwarded the protest to Russia.

Admiral Rozhdestvensky, on the eve of the great struggle, had dismissed every unnecessary ship. More than a half hundred colliers and supply ships, which had accompanied the fleet or had met it in the China Sea, were dismissed after the last ton of coal had been stored on the big fighting ships.

From the Saddle Islands, a thousand miles stretched away to Vladivostok. Coal and stores for the dash there were on every ship. Then prows were turned northward, there was a full day when nothing was known of the Russians. Then came this word, that the great destiny-laden armada was sighted approaching Admiral Togo's lair in the Straits of Korea. Forty-eight hours more, and the Japanese admiralty was electrified by the characteristically modest announcement from Japan's great naval captain:

"The main force of the Russian second and third fleets is nearly annihilated. Please feel assured of it."

Between lies a tale marvelous for brilliancy, valor, daring, for all that is spectacular and awe-inspiring in war; for all that spells glory to the victor; for all that defeat, disaster, can mean to the beaten and crushed. In brief, of Russia's seven battleships, five had been sunk, and two, captives, were flying the flag of the victor; Of the mighty array of cruisers, all but four were at the bottom of the sea. Of the destroyers, three were afloat. In the harbor of Vladivostok were a single unarmored cruiser, and these three destroyers, the sorry fragments of the armada that reached this destination for which the flower of Russia's European squadron had set out. Sixty hours after the battle three armored cruisers, the Aurora, Oleg and Jemtchug, laden with wounded, riddled with shot and shell, crept into the harbor of Manila, there to be interned, with their officers, Admiral Enquist among them. As a climax to the victory, Admiral Rozhdestvensky was a prisoner, badly wounded, and in the care of Japanese physicians in the naval hospital at Sasebo. Admiral Volkersham was dead. He had fallen in the first havoc-working broadside from the Japanese fleet. Admiral Nebogatoff was a prisoner. Without a fight he had surrendered two battleships and two coast defense ironclads, with the result that after the battle that had annihilated the Russian fleet, the Japanese fleet was even more powerful than when it cleared decks for action.

The Russian fleet had, in truth, sailed into Admiral Togo's lair. The Straits of Korea lie between Japan and Korea, and are an average of one hundred miles wide. Half way across rise the Tsu Islands, which Japan has fortified until they are a veritable Gibraltar. Only twenty-five miles wide is the Tsushimi Channel or Strait, between Tsu Island and the Japanese coast.

So narrow indeed is the water that as the Russian ships were pressed eastward toward Tsu Island the forts there got range of the battleships and sank the Oslabya. Togo's base was at Masampho, on the Korean coast. Thousands of Japanese knew this fact, but so deeply was the necessity for secrecy appreciated by all classes of the islanders that throughout the nine months of waiting the entire world never had the slightest intimation of the point from which Japan's defensive blow would be struck. The general impression was that Formosa, the southernmost of the Japanese archipelago, would be chosen. This opinion was fostered by show of activity there and by various orders calculated to mark this spot as of especial significance in the campaign. When Rozhdestvensky had traversed the Straits of Formosa without opposition and had reached the China coast north of there, Russians even rejoiced, declaring that their admiral had outwitted the Japanese by eluding their trap. Meantime Togo waited. His position enabled him to meet the enemy should the direct route to Vladivostok via the Straits of Korea and the Sea of Japan be chosen, or he was in position to sail northward to intercept the Russians should Rozhdestvensky decide to go further eastward into the Pacific, circle Japan, and finally approach Vladivostok by La Pelouse or another of the channels between the northern islands of the Japanese archipelago. When Rozhdestvensky headed north from the China coast toward the Straits of Korea he fell in with the plan of battle to meet which the whole genius of the Japanese admiral had been preparing. Only one detail failed to agree with what Togo had expected. He believed that the Russians would shun the narrow channel east of Tsu Island, nearer Japan, and would traverse the western channel between Tsu Island and Korea. In the latter event the blow would have been dealt by a dash from Mesampho. As it happened, the fleet had only to round the northern promontory of Tsu Island and fall upon the Russians in the most disadvantageous position that could have been found in all of the waters of the Orient.

The strength of the fleets as they approached on that fateful Saturday morning may be shown in tabular form. The chief units are here given. In addition, there were twelve torpedo boat destroyers with the Russian fleet and a veritable swarm of destroyers and torpedo boats with the Japanese fleet. Nevertheless, the armada, with practically twice the number of Japanese battleships, would, on paper, have advantage over a large fleet, made up so largely of lighter vessels.

The Russian fleet advanced in a double line, the battleships on the side away from the Japanese coast; the inner line, nearer Japan, made up of cruisers and light craft. Admiral Togo swung northward of Tsu Island, then turned sharply toward the southeast, thus moving parallel to the line of bows of the Russian ships, opening the broadsides of all of his ships, while through practically all of the first day's battle the Russians had only available bow and forward guns, a manœuvre which eliminated enough of the effectiveness of the Russian battleships to give Togo an advantage despite his weakness in these floating fortresses.

It had been planned that the initial attack should be made by the giant twelve-inch guns of the Japanese big ships, and that under cover of this bombardment the torpedoers and destroyers should dash for the leading Russian ships and attempt to throw the enemy's column into confusion.

The commanders of the torpedoing flotilla had previously been summoned and had been notified in a few words by the admiral of the desperate service that was required of them and of the small chance of any of them reporting again for duty.

They were told, in fact, that it was a simple case of sacrifice, and they accepted it so willingly that the admiral found it difficult to detail a torpedo reserve in case the first division failed in its task.

Until sunset the heavy guns of the Japanese battleships and the ten-inch battery of the cruiser Kasuga roared and fired at the oncoming Russians, while the Russian guns roared in reply.

First of the Russian battleships in line behind the protected cruiser Jemtchung was the 13,000-ton Borodino, and these two soon showed that they were receiving the brunt of the shelling. The cruiser Nakhimoff, in the van of the Russian port column, was also observed to be in distress, and then, the sun having set and the quick-setting darkness having come, the torpedoes were sent out under cover of a still heavier cannonade. The flotilla formed into two divisions, one heading for the battleship column of the Russians and the other for the cruisers.

The searchlights of the Russian fleet threw out their great beams and their small gun batteries swept the sea but the swift hornets of the sea went wallowing and buzzing on their way. They circled and swept, and then came the dull roars and heaving fountains that told that the torpedoes had been loosed from their tubes and were doing their deadly work.

Again and again came the roars, and as the Japanese searchlights swept across the field of fight and then went out it was seen that the great battleship Borodino was sinking; that the protected cruiser Svietlana was a wreck; that the battleship Alexander III had gone; that the two armored cruisers Dimitri Donskoi and Nakhimoff were out of the fighting. A far-sailing shell had also reached and sunk the supply ship Kamchatka. Thus ended the first day's fight.

In the darkness of the night of Saturday, May 27, the shattered Russian fleet reformed as well as it might, and once more took up its despairing run for the Sea of Japan and the haven of Vladivostok.

Hanging on to the already beaten enemy, an easy matter with his faster ships, Togo picked up the Russians all of Saturday night with his searchlights, occasionally sending a long-distance shell toward one of the shadowy hulls that were racing to get through the straits.

But just as Togo had selected his fighting ground for working out one chapter of the tragedy, so now he chose the scene of the second day's fighting.

To the northeast of Osino Island lies a dangerous little archipelago known as the Liancourt Rocks, and with his battleships and heavily armored cruisers the Japanese admiral stood out in crescent form across the Korean Strait and drove the enemy toward this dangerous running.

Keeping together in some semblance of order, five Russians, consisting of the battleships Nicolai I and Orel and the coast defence vessels Senyanin and Apraxine and the protected cruiser Izumrud, were heading bravely for the Sea of Japan. Seeing a possibility of their escape, Togo, who was personally conducting the pursuit, signaled to close in and attack.

With their forward turrets blazing and roaring, the Japanese squadron dashed on. The Russians replied vigorously for a time, but the gunnery of the Japanese was too deadly and accurate; shells were carrying death and destruction into the fleeing five, and the fight went out of the Russians.

One after another flew surrender signals, the Japanese ceased firing, and the Nicolai I, Orel, Senyanin and Apraxine were added to the Mikado's navy. Only the Izumrud got away. Fleeter than her sisters, she steamed boldly to the northwest. But she was doomed. Swift pursuing Japanese cruisers followed, hurling after her tons of metal, much of it taking effect. The end came when the Russian ship, entering Vladimir Bay, went fast on a reef. The Russian captain blew up the ship.

So practically ended the second day's fight, and here again the apparently impossible happened—Togo's captains all reported, "No damage to men or ships."

Togo's captains, had, however, other things to report, for while the main force of the combined squadron was hammering the four Russians into subjection off the Liancourt Rocks others of the cruisers were chasing scattered Russian ships, while still others were completing the work of destruction around Osino Island. Two special service ships and a destroyer were captured, and so was the armored cruiser Monomach, but she foundered soon after transference of flags.

And there were prisoners to report, 3,000 of them, including the unhappy Nebogatoff, while up and down the seas the fight between pursued and pursuer still went on.

Battles at sea are necessarily fought away from the eyes of neutral observers. The active participants are unable to know of more than the immediate scene of the drama in which their own ship is engaged. Even the admiral of the fleet is unable to see all that occurs. Hence detailed, continuous accounts of such occurrences rarely, if ever, are written until years later the disconnected stories of here one, there another, can be assembled, corrected, dovetailed. Sufficient time has not elapsed since this remarkable battle to permit of such assembling of facts. But both Japanese and Russians have told of individual experiences. These have a graphic interest, coming hot from the scene of the great events which, perhaps, a more finished narrative might lack. First in interest, come the actual reports from the admiral himself. Few great fighters have been men of fewer words than this Togo. His reports, and, indeed, all of the Japanese reports, have been in marked contrast to the elaborate, verbose messages sent to the Emperor of Russia.

"Immediately upon the receipt of report that Russian squadron was in sight our combined squadron started for attack. Weather is fine to-day, but with heavy seas."

"Combined squadron attacked Russian squadron to-day near Okinoshima (southeast of Tsushima) and defeated it, sinking at least four ships and inflicting heavy damage upon others. Damage to our ships is insignificant. Our destroyer and torpedo flotillas delivered attack after sunset."

"Main force of our combined squadron continued pursuit since the 27th, and attacked (28th) near Liancourt Rocks (northeast of Okinoshima) a squadron consisting of Nicolai I (battleship), Orel (battleship), Senyanin, Apraxin and Izumurud. Izumurud fled while remaining four vessels surrendered. No damage to our ships. According to statements of prisoners, vessels sunk in engagement May 27 were Borodino (battleship), Alexandre III (battleship), Jemtchug and three other ships. Rear Admiral Nebogatoff and about 2,000 other Russians were taken prisoners."

The following are damages suffered by enemy in addition to those given above since commencement of battle, as reported by commanders not under immediate command of Togo and by observation stations:

Sunk—Admiral Nakhimoff, Dmitri Donskoi, Svietlana, Admiral Usakoff, Kamchatka, Irutshush and three destroyers.

Vladimir Monomach, foundered after capture. One special service ship, whole name unknown, and one destroyer captured.

Two battleships, one coast-defence ship, five cruisers, two special ships, three destroyers were sunk; two battleships, two coast-defence ships, one special service ship, one destroyer were captured. It is not yet clear whether three vessels, as stated by prisoners to have been sunk, are included or not in above list. There are more than 1,000 prisoners, besides 2,000 taken by main force of combined squadron.

"The naval engagement is still in progress, so that it will take some time before the final results can be known."

"The main force of our combined fleet, upon accepting surrender of the remaining Russian main force near Liancourt Rocks, in the afternoon of May 28, as already reported, stopped pursuit, and while engaged in the disposition of surrendered ships found in a southwestern direction the Admiral Ushakoff, a coast defence ship. Thereupon Iwate and Yakumo were immediately dispatched in pursuit and invited her to surrender, but she refused and was sunk at 6 P. M. Her crew of over 300 men were rescued.

"Cruiser Dimitri Donskoi was also found in the northwestern direction at 5 P. M. and was immediately overtaken and was fired upon vigorously by our fourth division and second destroyer flotilla.

"She was attacked that night by the second destroyer flotilla, and the next morning was found aground on the southeastern shore of Urleung Island, off the Korean coast.

"Our destroyer Sazanami captured, toward the evening of May 27, in the south of Urleung Island, the Russian destroyer Biedovy, wherein were found Admiral Rozhdestvensky and another admiral, both severely wounded, together with eighty Russians, including staff officers from the flagship Kniaz Suvaroff, which was sunk at 5.29 P. M. on May 27. They were all taken prisoners.

"Our cruiser Chitose, while cruising to the northward on the morning of May 28, found and sunk another Russian destroyer. Our cruiser Niitaka and destroyer Murakumo attacked also at noon on May 28 a Russian destroyer, which finally went aground.

"According to various reports hitherto received and statements of prisoners, the result of the battle from May 27 to May 29, is as follows:

"Prince Suvaroff, Alexander III, Borodino, Dimitri Donskoi, Admiral Nachimoff, Monomach, Zemtchug, Admiral Ushakoff, one converted cruiser and two destroyers sunk.

"Nicolai I, Orel, Admiral Apraxine, Admiral Senyavin and destroyer Biedovy captured. According to the prisoners, the Osliabia sunk about 3 P. M., and the Navarin also was sunk.

"Almaz, on May 27, was observed in a disabled and sinking condition, but her final fate is yet unknown.

"The full particulars regarding the injury to our ships are not yet in hand, but as far as I could ascertain none was seriously injured, all being still engaged in operations. The whole casualties are not yet ascertained. Casualties of first division are a little over four hundred. Prince Yorhito is in excellent health; Admiral Misu slightly wounded, May 27.

"Loss of Osliabia, Navarin, confirmed. Sissoi-Veliki also definitely reported to have sunk on the morning of May 28.

"Official statement of Russian losses so far as ascertained: Following six battleships sunk: Prince Suvaroff, Imperator, Alexander III, Borodino, Osliabia, Sissoi-Valiki and Navarin.

"Following five cruisers sunk: Admiral Nachimoff, Dimitri Donskoi, Vladimir, Monomach, Svietlana and Zemtchug.

"Two battleships, Orel and Imperator, Nicolai I; two coast defence ships, General Admiral Apraxine and Admiral Senyanvin, and one destroyer, Biedovoy, captured.

"Thus Russians lost altogether twenty-two ships, the aggregate tonnage whereof amounting to 153,411 tons, besides cruiser Almaz, suspected to have sunk.

"Later reports from the different divisions of the fleet engaged in the naval battle of May 27 show as follows:

"The Russian battleship Oslabya was heavily damaged in the early part of the fight on Saturday, going down at 3 o'clock in the afternoon.

"The armored cruisers Admiral Nakhimoff and Vladimir Monomach, after being in the general engagement during the daytime, were still further damaged by torpedoes during attacks by night, and were eventually completely disabled. They drifted into the vicinity of Tsu Islands, where they were discovered on Sunday morning, May 28, by the auxiliary cruisers Shilano, Yawata, Tainan and Sado, which were about to capture them, but they all sank.

"The crews of our auxiliary cruisers rescued 915 of the crew of the sunken Russian ships.

"The battleship Navarin was torpedoed four times after sundown on Saturday, May 27, and sunk. The survivors of the Navarin's crew confirm the story of her destruction.

"The cruisers Niitaka and Otawa discovered the Russian cruiser Svietlana at 9 o'clock on Sunday morning in the vicinity of Chappyan Bay and immediately attacked and sunk her. The commander of the Niitaka reports the fact.

"It is suspected that the Russian cruisers Almaz and Aurora were sunk by torpedoes on the night of May 27.

"The former report includes the statement that the Russian cruiser Jemtchug was sunk, but as yet this remains unconfirmed, and the cruiser's name has been excluded from the revised list of Russian vessels destroyed.

"Judging from this and former reports, the enemy's main strength, consisting of eight battleships destroyed or captured, three armored cruisers and three coast defence ships destroyed or captured, with the second-class cruisers and other vessels destroyed, the enemy's fighting power is thus annihilated.

"Later reports show that during the night of May 27 our torpedo boats, numbered 34, 35 and 69, were sunk by the enemy's fire. Comrades rescued the majority of their crews. Besides the above, there was no damage worth reporting. No warship nor destroyer suffered any loss of fighting or navigating power.

"We anticipated a heavy loss of life, but find that our casualties were comparatively slight. They do not exceed 800 killed and wounded. The casualty reports will be rendered as speedily as possible in order to reassure families and friends.

"Nearly the whole strength of both combatants met in battle, and the area of the fighting was very wide.

"The first day proved foggy, and even without the smoke and fumes resulting from the battle it was impossible to see five miles. Consequently, during the day it was impossible to locate or observe all the ships under my command. Moreover, the fighting having lasted two days, and the ships of my command being scattered for the purpose of chasing and attacking the enemy, some having received special orders after the battle, it is impossible to collect and frame any detailed report covering the whole battle at the same time."

"The ships sent northward to search for Russian ships returned yesterday. The cruisers Iwate and Yakumo and other vessels sent southward to find Russian ships, returned to-day. They thoroughly searched the Shanghai course from Tsushima and vicinity, but on both sides found no trace of the Russians."

"During the battle on May 27, at 3.07 P. M., the cruiser Iwate vigorously attacked the protected cruiser Jemtchug at a distance of 3,000 metres. The Jemtchug sank in one minute. The loss of the Jemtchug is, therefore, confirmed.

"During the engagement fire broke out on the Jemtchug and smoke concealed the hull of the vessel. Consequently the remainder of our fleet were unable to see the ship."

Admiral Togo gave this list of casualties, surprisingly small even to himself, for he had estimated his losses as 800 men.

"The Japanese losses in the battle of the Sea of Japan were 113 officers and men killed and 424 officers and men wounded. The completion of the revised list shows that the losses were fewer than the original estimates. The flagship Mikasa was the heaviest loser, losing 63 killed and wounded. The losses were distributed among the ships of the fleet as follows: Mikasa, 63; Adzuma, 39; Shikishima, 37; Asashi, 31; Fuji, 28; Idzuma, 26; Nisshin, 27; Otowa, 26; Kasaga, 26; Tsushima, 19; Asama, 15; Naniwa, 17; Tokiwa, 15; Yakumo, 11; Chitose, 6; Idzumi, 10; Kasaga, 9; Hashidate, 5; Niitaka, 4."

Admiral Togo concluded his series of reports with this absolutely accurate statement of the ships that had escaped, in the main a remarkable feat, when the conditions of alternating fog and sunshine and the natural confusion among the Russians is taken into account.

"The Russian vessels present in the recent battle which were not sunk or captured and which are unaccounted for are," Togo's report adds, "the protected cruisers Oleg, Aurora, Izumrud and Almas, three transports, two torpedo boat destroyers and one towboat. During the battle the Oleg and Aurora were within range of our third and fourth squadrons and were on fire. They may have escaped, but it will take time to restore their fighting power."

A Japanese officer described the battle more connectedly in the following words:

"At 5.30 Saturday morning a wireless message, reading, 'The enemy's squadron is in sight,' reached the naval base. This message was transmitted to all our ships by the flagship, with instructions to get ready for action. Our squadron left their rendezvous and headed for the eastern channel off Tsushima. Our men seemed to be filled with new inspiration, and were eager for the long-delayed fight to begin.

"When Tsushima was sighted to the southwest the sea was rough and the torpedo boats were forced to run for the shelter of the island. Our third fighting squadron, with the Takashiho to port, reconnoitred the Russian course, and at 11.30 A. M. informed the main squadron by wireless telegraph that the Russian ships were passing into the east channel, whereupon our main squadron, changing its course somewhat to the southward, came in sight of Okinshima at 1 o'clock in the afternoon. The third division arrived later and joined the main squadron. The first and second divisions, accompanied by the destroyer flotilla, changed to a westerly course, while the third division and the fourth destroyer flotilla headed slightly eastward.

"During the manœuvre the Russian flagship appeared to the southward, at 1.45 o'clock. The Russians steamed up in double column. The fleet was numerous, but no living being was visible. The Russian ships seemed to be in good order. Our ships hoisted the flag of action, the Mikasa signaling: 'The defence of our empire depends upon this action. You are expected to do your utmost.' Our men seemed to silently weigh the significance of this signal.

"Our first and second divisions turned to the Russians' starboard, while the third division kept in close touch with the preceding two divisions. With the Japanese ships proceeding in this order, it was 2.13 o'clock when the Russians opened fire. The first two shots fell short of our line, and it was some minutes later before we commenced firing. Then the battle was on, with firing from both sides. Our destroyers kept on the port side of the main squadron, and in this formation we pressed the Russians against the coast of Kiushiu, and they were obliged to change their course to the east.

"We so manœuvred our ships as to have their bows parallel to the north side of the Russian line. The Mikasa, of our first division, which had been leading, changed to the rear of the line, while the Kasuga headed the line. The engagement now became very fierce. The Borodino was seen to be on fire. A little later the Russians headed west, and we changed our course accordingly. Five ships of our second division concentrated their fire on the Borodino. Our first division now began firing vigorously, proceeding parallel with the Russian line, and as we began to press against the head of the Russian line our third division veered to the Russian rear, thus enveloping their ships.

"The engagement proceeded hotly. Our second division followed a course parallel with the northern side of the Russians, and this movement completed the envelopment. The Russian ships were seen trying to break through, and our destroyer flotilla intercepted their new course. This state of envelopment continued until the following day, with the ships at varying distances. Thus enclosed on all sides, the Russians were helpless and powerless to escape the circle.

"Previous instructions had been given the destroyers and torpedo boats to attack the Russian ships. Following instructions, the fifth destroyer flotilla advanced against a Russian ship, upon which the second division had been concentrating its fire, signaling, 'We are going to give the last thrust at them.'

"The Russian ship continued to fight, and seeing the approaching torpedo boats, directed its fire on them. Undaunted, our destroyers pressed forward, the Chitose meantime continuing its fire. The torpedo flotilla arrived within 200 metres of the Russian ship and the Shiranus fired the first shot. Two other torpedo boats fired one each. The Shiranus received two shells, but the other boats were not damaged. The Russian ship was sunk.

"Sundown saw the battle raging furiously. Our shells were evidently telling on the Russians, who showed signs of confusion. Our fifth torpedo flotilla, after destroying the Borodino, followed in the wake of our second division, the signal reading, 'Something like the Russians' submarines have been sighted. Attack them.'

"The flotilla followed and located the object, which proved to be a sinking ship with its overturned bottom showing. Thirty survivors clung to the wreck, crying for assistance. Firing ceased with the approach of darkness.

"According to orders previously given for a torpedo attack after dark, all the destroyer flotilla, dividing into two squadrons, proceeded to attack the Russians during the whole night. The Russians frustrated the first and second attacks with searchlights. A third attempt was carefully made, and the Yugiri sank a ship of the Borodino type, and also hit others. During the night the Russians continued to move, and we preserved our enveloping movement some distance from the Russian position. The Russian ships headed northeast after daybreak, hoping to reach Vladivostok. Our officers and men were determined that not a ship should escape, and resolved not to relax their efforts until they had succeeded in either sinking or capturing every Russian ship.

"Our ships always kept ahead of the Russians. The battle was resumed at 9 o'clock Sunday morning, twelve miles east of Chiyupyon Bay, and lasted all day. Here the Russians suffered their heaviest losses. They seemed unprepared to repel night attacks. During our first night attack the Russians showed nine searchlights and frustrated the attacks, but clearly gave us the location of the fleet, which brought success later."

"At dawn on Saturday our squadron left its rendezvous and advanced through the Tsushima Channel. At 2.08 in the afternoon we sighted the Russian fleet. Gradually closing in, we found the Kniaz Souvaroff leading the line, with the Borodino, the Alexander III, the Orel, the Osliabia and the Navarin following in the order named. The Nicolai I brought up the rear. Parallel to this line we observed five cruisers. After them came the special ships and torpedo boat destroyers. We counted thirty-two Russian ships in all.

"Our fleet, with the battleship Mikasa leading, proceeded toward the Russians in vertical line formation. The Souvaroff opened fire first and then suddenly turned, reversing her course. Almost simultaneously the Mikasa opened fire with her big guns, and thus the curtain rose on the great sea battle. The hostile fleets gradually closed in toward each other, exchanging a vigorous fire. The armored cruiser Asama approached within 3,000 metres of the Russian fleet and carefully observed its action.

"After a short but fierce fight the Admiral Oushakoff's deck was observed to be ablaze, and the ship left the line. By 4.30 in the afternoon the Russian line was disordered and its fire slackened. The Borodino and Kamchatka had been disabled and soon sank. The Borodino continued to fire bravely until the ship was submerged.

"The Japanese fleet continued to maintain enveloping positions from sundown until dawn. Sunday morning opened misty, but the weather soon cleared, and the search for the remnants of the Russian fleet was begun. Five Russian ships were discovered in the vicinity of Liancourt Island, and they were immediately surrounded. One, supposed to be the Izumrud, escaped at full speed. The remaining four offered no resistance, and hoisted the Japanese flag over the Russian colors, apparently offering to surrender. Captain Yashiro, commanding the Asama, started in a small boat to ascertain the real intentions of the Russians, when Admiral Nebogatoff lowered a boat and came on board the Asama, where he formally surrendered. The prisoners were distributed among the Japanese ships, and prize crews were selected to take possession of the captured vessels."

To have destroyed the Russian armada was, of itself, an amazing feat; but to have captured the commander-in-chief, and to have compelled the surrender of an admiral of the line, add vastly to the glory of Togo. The story of Rozhdestvensky's capture is dramatic.

The destroyers, Kasumi, Usugumo, Sazanami and Kagerou, were ordered to attack the Russian warships on the night of May 27 and were steaming ahead when they suddenly encountered a number of Russian ships. The Kasumi narrowly avoided a collision with a Russian cruiser, the closeness of which seems to have saved the destroyers from being damaged by the heavy fire which the Russians directed on them.

During the Russian attack the vessels forming the destroyer flotilla divided. The Sazanami and Kagerou continued the search for Russian ships throughout the night, and in the morning discovered two torpedo boat destroyers. One of them steamed away, but the other was unable to do so. On approaching the latter the Japanese discerned a white flag flying from the foremast and the Red Cross flag astern. She proved to be the Bedovi with Admiral Rozhdestvensky and his staff on board. The Bedovi signalled that her engines were damaged, and that she was short of coal and water. An armed guard was sent on board the Bedovi to receive her surrender. The Russians requested the Japanese not to remove Admiral Rozhdestvensky and the other officers on account of their wounds, and the Japanese complied, with the understanding that the guard would shoot Rozhdestvensky in the event of the delay leading to a meeting with Russian ships, thus running the danger of his recapture. The Sazanami ran a line to the Bedovi and began to wing her. The line parted twice. In the morning the Sazanami met the Japanese cruiser Akashi, which convoyed the two destroyers to Sasebo. During the trip the destroyers encountered heavy seas, and their decks were awash during part of the time.

Thirty naval commanders participated in the battle of the Japan Sea. Vice Admiral Togo was commander-in-chief, leading the first squadron. Vice Admiral Kamamura was in command of the second squadron, and Rear Admiral Kataoka led the third squadron.

The chiefs of staff in the order named were Admiral Kato and Captains Fujii and Saito. The commanders of the squadron divisions were Vice Admirals Dewa, Uriu and Mitsu, acting as rear admirals under Vice Admiral Togo, Captains Yamada, Shimamura, Taketomi and Kokura.

The fate of the cruiser Izumrud is a chapter of itself in the story of the battle. Baron Ferzen, her captain, with survivors of the ship's crew, reached Vladivostok on June 1 and sent a report, which, in addition to confirming the disaster to the entire fleet, told the fate of his own ship. The Baron reported that before dark, on May 27, the Osliabya, Alexander III and Borodino had been sunk, and the Kniaz Souvaroff, the Kamtchatka and the Urel had been seriously damaged and were lost to sight. The command then devolved on Rear Admiral Nebogatoff.

In the evening the Nikolai I, the Orel, the General Admiral Apraxine, the Admiral Seniavin, the Admiral Oughakoff, the Sissoi Veliky, the Nevarin, the Admiral Nakhimoff, and the Izumrud sailed northeastward, the latter being charged to transmit orders to the battleships. Two other cruisers were cut off from the fleet and were not again seen.

The battleships, steaming at fourteen knots, were repeatedly attacked by the Japanese torpedo boats, especially at the extremities of the line.

At dawn it was ascertained that the battleship division consisted of the Nikolai I, the Orel, the General Admiral Apraxine and the Admiral Seniavin.

At sunrise, May 28, smoke from the Japanese ships reappeared on the horizon, whereupon the admiral gave orders for increased speed. The Admiral Seniavin and the General Admiral Apraxine dropped behind.

Toward 10 o'clock, the Japanese fleet appeared first to port and then to starboard, while the cruiser division manœuvred behind the Russians to starboard. Baron Ferzen's account continues:

"I was cut off from the squadron and finding it impossible to rejoin it resolved to make for Vladivostok. I put on full speed and the enemy's cruisers came on in pursuit. Owing to the insufficiency of my coal supply and the certainty of meeting the enemy's cruisers, I subsequently altered my course for Vladimir Bay, where I arrived on the night of May 29. At 1.30 o'clock next morning, in pitch darkness, the Izumrud ran full on a reef at the entrance of the bay. Having only ten tons of coal and seeing that it would be impossible to again float my vessel, I ordered the crew ashore and blew up the Izumrud to prevent her falling into the hands of the enemy. Ten of my sailors were wounded in the battle, but the officers and the rest of the crew are all safe."

Intimations of the extent of the disaster first reached Russia through foreign telegrams. The emperor and naval officials hoped against hope that their own advices would bring some ray of comfort. It was hoped that a portion of the fleet might reach Vladivostok strong enough to aid in protecting the fortress against attack from the sea.

One unprotected cruiser and three torpedo boat destroyers were all of the splendid fleet that ever were to reach Vladivostok. The cruiser Almaz, which by reason of her lack of protective sheathing had been ordered by Rozhdestvensky to flee in event of battle, got through the Japanese lines with a minimum of damage, though well scarred by shots that had reached her by chance. Captain Chagir, her commander, speedily communicated with the emperor at St. Petersburg through Lieutenant General Linevitch, commander-in-chief in the Far East. This was the message:

"The cruiser Almaz has arrived at Vladivostok. Her commander reports as follows:

"'On May 27, Vice Admiral Rozhdestvensky's fleet in the Tsu Strait engaged the Japanese in battle. During the day we lost the battleships Kniaz Souvaroff, Borodino, Osliabya, and the cruiser Ural. The battleship Alexander III was seriously damaged at the start of the battle.

"'After the separation of the cruiser Almaz from the fleet the battle was renewed in the darkness. The result of the night battle is not known.'"

"Supplementary reports of the commander of the Almaz, forwarded by the post commandant at Vladivostok, state that the transport Kamtchatka was seriously damaged."

"The Almaz had Lieutenant Mochalin and four sailors killed and ten sailors wounded. There is no news as to those who were saved or those who perished on the sunken warships."

The arrival of the Almaz has thus been described by an eye witness at Vladivostok:

The Almaz, which arrived at her anchorage here Monday evening, May 29, bore scars of the battle. Her mizzen mast was shot away, and one of her smokestacks was pierced by a cannon shot. But the Grozny, though engaged for several hours in a running fight at short range with a large Japanese destroyer, showed no signs of the fray. After her commander, Captain Andriffski, had been wounded, and an officer and three men had been killed, the Grozny succeeded in sinking her opponent with a luckily placed shot, and reached Vladivostok without further adventure.

For two days Vladivostok had been buzzing with rumor and excitement. The fact that a battle between the rival fleets was imminent, if Rozhdestvensky was not already at hand-grips with Togo, was made known through telegrams from Europe, and when it was learned Monday morning that a Russian cruiser had been sighted off Askold Island, headed for the harbor, the city was filled with the wildest reports of every nature.

The inhabitants clustered in the streets, thronged the waterside or climbed the frowning hills overlooking the harbor for a better view. Finally, toward 6 o'clock in the evening, a graceful cruiser with two snowy-white stacks, shot in view at the entrance to the Golden Horn and rounded to an anchorage beneath the bristling guns of the curving promontory. From afar the broken stump of her mizzen-mast and a shot hole showing black upon the white paint of one stack indicated that the cruiser had encountered the Japanese. As the anchor chain rattled in the hawse holes the vessel wreathed itself in smoke—it was an admiral's salute in honor of Rear Admiral Von Jessen. Scarcely had the boom of the last cannon begun to echo from the surrounding hills when Von Jessen's flagship, the cruiser Rossia, answered the salute, and a minute later the guns of the fortress took up the cannonade.

Excitement beyond description seized the thronging spectators, who, with frantic "huzzas," tossed high their caps.

Citizens embraced each other and danced jubilantly upon the pier, while the crews of the ships in the harbor joined in wild cheering.

In a thrice the boats were dropped from the davits, and in a moment the officers of the cruisers and torpedo boats in the harbor and the military officials from the fortress were swarming on board the Almaz to learn news of the fight.

The story was short. According to the officers of the Almaz, the fleet under Rozhdestvensky met the Japanese in the Straits of Korea, near Tsu Island, and the opposing fleets immediately closed in.

Being lightly armored, the Almaz, as had been expected by Admiral Rozhdestvensky before the battle, separated itself from the main fleet at the first opportunity and headed for Vladivostok soon after the commencement of the action, but not too soon to observe that the losses on both sides in the titanic combat were great.

Early in the battle an officer of the Almaz, while watching Rozhdestvensky's flagship, the battleship Kniaz Souvaroff, for a signal, saw the flagship shudder from stem to stern, as if under a blow from a gigantic hammer, and hesitate in her course, while the waves rose high from her armored sides. Then she commenced to list and sink.

The officers believe that the debut of the submarine boat as an effective agent in naval warfare, or perhaps a large mine caused the disaster to the Kniaz Souvaroff. The damage, however, was so extensive that the flagship soon went down, leaving the deck officers and many of the crew struggling in the waves.

One of the Russian torpedo boats, either the destroyer Buiny or the Bravi, ran in and picked up a number of the swimmers, one of whom was recognized through a glass as Admiral Rozhdestvensky.

Under a grueling attack by the Japanese warships, aided by torpedo boats, mines and submarines, the Borodino, Osliabia and Ural were placed out of action and followed the flagship to the bottom.

The fog, which had raised and lowered intermittently during the morning, began to settle down again, and the distance of the Almaz, which now succeeded in disengaging herself in the combat from the struggling ships, made it difficult for her to see clearly.

The arrival of the Grozny on the following day was marked by the same scenes of excitement as those which characterized the advent of the Almaz. The wounded commander of the destroyer, Captain Andriffski, confirmed the details given by the officers of the Almaz. He described his combat as a running fight, in which the Grozny was engaged for several hours, finally sinking the pursuing Japanese destroyer.

From this and further fragmentary reports the Russians pieced together a story of the disaster. They figure that Admiral Togo, with his main squadron, must have lain somewhere off the coast of Korea, while Admirals Kamimura and Uriu held their squadrons further north to head off the Russian vessels which might get through Togo's lines or be prepared to bar the entrance to the Straits of Tsugaru in case the Russians should be reported moving up the east coast of Japan. When Togo's scouts reported that Admiral Rozhdestvensky was heading for the eastern channel of the Straits of Korea the Japanese Admiral steamed around the northern part of the Tsu Islands, and came upon the Russians steaming in double column, with the cruisers to port.

Togo enjoyed the great advantage of tactical position when he opened fire, having the lightest of the Russian ships between him and Rozhdestvensky's heavier vessels, thus smothering the fire of the latter. Besides, Togo was able to use all his broadsides, whereas the sternmost ships of the Russian columns, coming on in line ahead formation, could probably only with difficulty use any guns at all.

When Sunday morning came the Russian fleet was divided. The faster and stronger division, under Rozhdestvensky, was met by Kamimura and Uriu, while the slower division, under Nebogatoff, renewed the fight with Togo. With some of the scattered Russian units it was a case of save himself who can. In the running fight the Japanese enjoyed the advantage of superior speed, enabling them to concentrate their fire and bring every crippled Russian ship to bay. Admiral Nebogatoff's battered remnant surrendered off Liancourt Rocks, while Rozhdestvensky, with the best remaining battleships, fought on for the honor of the Russian navy.

Torpedo attacks were the feature of the Japanese program, which more surely than anything else brought disaster. Torpedo boats in night attacks launched their deadly missiles within a hundred yards of their Russian targets. They completely encircled the Russian ships, swarming like angry hornets. Much of the sweeping character of the victory will ultimately be traced to these comparatively tiny craft, fighting under the shower of shells being hurled from the big guns of the battleships and cruisers far away.

Summarizing scattered reports, the results of the battle may be accurately stated to be annihilation for Russian sea power in the Far East. Thirty-seven Russian warships of all classes entered the Korean Straits. Of these, three, a cruiser, and two destroyers, reached Vladivostok; three armored cruisers reached Manila; two battleships and two coast defence ships were captured and were taken to Sasebo; one destroyer, found helpless at sea, was towed to Shanghai; leaving a total of twenty-six ships that were sent to the bottom, five of them battleships. The Russian loss in life reached a total of 6,500 men, one admiral and ten captains among them. The loss to Russia in gold amounted to $75,000,000. Japan's loss in ships was three torpedo boats and a few more than 400 men. Experts the world around failed to find adequate explanation for this amazing disparity. As summarized at Tokio, these are reasons which in part contributed to Admiral Rozhdestvensky's defeat:

"First. An imperfect reconnaissance and incomplete, faulty and misleading intelligence.

"Second. An imperfect battle formation, which indicated that Rozhdestvensky did not expect to meet Togo off Tsushima.

"Third. The weather, the direction of the wind and the sunlight were unfavorable to the Russians, Togo having the sun behind him and firing with the wind, while the Russians had the sunlight in their eyes and fired against the wind.

"Fourth. The Russians wasted their ammunition and eventually their supply ran short. It is believed that the surrender of Nebogatoff was necessary because his ammunition had been expended.

Japan hailed Togo as the nation's hero. A popular subscription will raise to him a giant lighthouse on lofty Tsu Island, commanding the sea for a radius of eighty miles, the area through which the battle was waged.

Aftermath of the Victory of the Sea of Japan—The World Hopes that Peace Will Result—The President of the United States Takes the Initial Step—Meantime the Japanese Decline an Armistice—Operations Begun for the Seizure of Saghalien Island—Japanese Landing Parties Successful—Russians Continue Flight After Series of Conflicts—Japanese Take Chief Town of Island, Alexandrovsk, July 25—Flight of Russians and Pursuit Continued—Governor of Island and Remainder of Garrison Surrender to Japanese, July 30—Russia and Japan Accept President's Proposal to Meet and Discuss Terms of Peace—America Chosen as Scene of Meeting—Envoys Named—Portsmouth, N. H., Selected as Scene of Meeting—Russian and Japanese Envoys Formally Received by the President at Oyster Bay, August 5—Sessions of Peace Conference Begin at Portsmouth, August 9—Conference Adjourns Without Achievement, August 18—President Begins Effort to Effect Compromise, August 19—Japan Withdraws Demand for Indemnity and Other Demands on Which There Had Been a Deadlock, August 29—Announcement Made That Peace is Assured—Work of Drafting Treaty Begun—Peace Treaty Signed—The Treaty of Peace.

A wave of awe went 'round the word when the full effects of the Battle of the Sea of Japan were realized. Russia stood before the world in the light of a thoroughly vanquished nation. On land her armies had been invariably defeated in a series of battles of stupendous magnitude. Her original Asiatic fleet had been annihilated. Her last great effort to stem the victories of Japan, the sending of a vast Armada to the Orient, had resulted in complete annihilation of that fleet. The nations forgot to grieve for the thousands slain in the hope that this last crowning disaster to Russia would bring what every civilized land had desired for months—an end to the titanic war.

While this was the universal wish it remained for the President of the United States to take the initiative. The fact that, with the exception of a minor campaign for the possession of the Island of Saghalien, off the Siberian coast, this was really the closing chapter of the war, has added a brilliant feat to the annals of American diplomatic achievements and has placed the name of Theodore Roosevelt eternally among those of the famous benefactors of humanity.

As has been said, one minor martial enterprise remained for the Japanese. Saghalien Island, blanketing the coasts of Siberia for a distance of 700 miles, had been secured by Russia from Japan by a treaty partaking, it was claimed by the Japanese, the nature of a coercive measure. Among the objects for which the Japanese had entered upon the war were to secure permanent fishing rights in the waters along the Siberian coast and the recession of Saghalien Island to her. The seizure of this Island, too, was a necessary corollary of a land and sea campaign against Vladivostock, which would have been the next step in her military campaign had not the war come to an end. There was little surprise, therefore, when the Tokio government, while giving consent to a proposal that the belligerent nations meet to talk of peace, refused to consent to an armistice. Possession of Saghalien Island was still to be gained. The Japanese campaign began when a landing was effected on the East coast of the Island on July 8. The Russian garrison numbered 8,000 men and while there were defensive works of some strength at a number of points, the defenders were helpless before the advance of the invaders. The campaign amounted to a half dozen engagements, mere skirmishes, when compared with the battles of the Manchurian campaign. The Russians made a brave defence, but lost position after position and the subjugation of the Island was completed on July 30, when the Russian Governor and 3,500 men surrendered "in the name of humanity." Five days previously the Japanese had occupied Alexandrovsk, the chief town of the Island and co-operative naval forces were disposed so that the escape of the garrison from the Island to the mainland was impossible. The slaughter of the entire force of the defenders could have been the only result of continued resistance. The Japanese announced the organization of a civil administration of the Island the moment the surrender had been completed, and were thus in possession of what was actually Russian territory. This fact was important to the Japanese from several standpoints. The Island is rich in minerals, it is the centre of the vast fishing industry of the North Pacific and has strategic value on account of its position with regard to the entire Siberian littoral. More important than any of these circumstances, however, was the fact that it had been soil over which flew the Russian flag. The Japanese contemplated making a demand for indemnity at the forthcoming peace conference. Precedent demanded that there should have been the occupation of territory to make valid such a claim. The occupation of Saghalien gave this necessary basis for the indemnity demand which, ultimately was presented and only withdrawn when it became apparent that the war must go on unless Japan withdrew her claim.

But the conquest of Saghalien marked the last of actual warfare between Japan and Russia. President Roosevelt had sent an identical note to Japan and Russia on June 8, calling upon each, in the name of humanity, to meet to discuss terms of peace and the whole Saghalien campaign had gone on while, following this request, diplomatic machinery had been slowly at work preparing the way for the peace conference. The rest of the story of the Japan-Russia War has to do with the events which finally called permanent truce to the long struggle and caused a million fighting men and their auxiliaries to turn their faces from the rugged plains of Manchuria, where thousands on thousands had given their lives for their Emperors and their Fatherlands.

Russia's acceptance of the President's invitation reached Washington on June 12, two days after Japan had announced her assent. A ripple was caused by difficulty in choosing a place for the meeting. Russia preferred an European capital. Japan would not consent to any that could be named. Russia ultimately yielded the point, and on June 15, with the consent of both of the belligerents, Washington was named, and a day within the first ten days of August was accepted for the assembling of the envoys. The Czar named Sergius Witte, greatest statesman of the Empire, to head the peace delegation, with Baron Rosen, Russian ambassador at Washington, as his associate. The Mikado named Baron Komura as chief of the Japanese delegation, and as his associate, Mr. Takahira, Japanese Minister to the United States. Accompanying each was a suite of a dozen secretarys, legal and military experts and interpreters. On July 11, the President named Portsmouth, N. H., Navy Yard as the actual place of meeting. It was feared that Washington, under the torrid conditions usually prevailing there in mid-summer, would prove a too uncomfortable place for the guests of the nation to spend the weeks that must necessarily be consumed in the negotiations. The Japanese envoys and their suite reached New York on July 25. M. Witte, the chief Russian envoy, arrived in New York with his suite on August 2, and was joined by Baron Rosen, his associate. Both the Japanese and the Russian delegations were informally presented to the President at his summer home at Oyster Bay, N. Y., prior to the formal reception of the two peace missions which took place on the President's yacht, the Mayflower, in Oyster Bay on August 5. The President, in a toast to which no reply was given, expressed the hope that a "just and lasting peace" might be arranged. The envoys and their suites were conveyed in warships to Portsmouth, reaching that city on August 7. The envoys were formally welcomed by United States officials and the Governor of the State of New Hampshire. The Hotel Wentworth, on an island off the mainland was made their place of residence. The newly constructed general stores building in the Navy Yard, which had been elaborately fitted up with every possible convenience, was designated as the scene of the sessions.

The first meeting of the envoys was held on August 9. The Japanese terms were presented in twelve sections, as follows:

II. Mutual obligations to evacuate Manchuria, Russia to retrocede to China all special privileges.

III. Japanese obligations to restore the sovereignty and administration of China in Manchuria.

IV. Mutual obligations to respect the territorial and administrative integrity of China and the principle of the "open door."

VI. The surrender of the Russian leases in the Liaotung Peninsula, including Port Arthur, Dalny and the Blonde and Elliott Islands.

VII. The cession of the branch of the Chinese Eastern Railroad from Harbin southward.

VIII. The retention by Russia of that portion of the railroad line through northern Manchuria connecting the Transsiberian road with Vladivostock.

IX. The reimbursement of Japan for the war—commonly spoken of as the indemnity.

X. The surrender of Russian warships which have been interned in neutral ports during the war.

These demands, one by one, were discussed by the envoys. It developed that Russia absolutely refused to grant an indemnity, to surrender warships interned in Chinese and American ports, or to cede to Japan the Island of Saghalien. Whatever hope of compromise there seemed to be with regard to the other questions at issue it was regarded as absolutely essential to the signing of a treaty of peace that Russia should yield on the subject of indemnity. The President's efforts were directed toward accomplishing this result under some other name than indemnity. It was proposed to arrange for the payment of the amount demanded as a purchase price for Saghalien, or for the railway rights over which Japan had become master. No compromise would be listened to by the Czar, "Not a kopeck for indemnity," was the phrase of M. Witte, and there was no yielding. By shrewd diplomatic manœuvring the Russian envoy had placed Japan in a position which meant that were the war to be continued it would be upon the responsibility of Japan and for the sole reason that money must be had. The Tokio government, after long discussion, decided upon a magnanimous course, which at once won the encomiums of the whole civilized world. She yielded every point in dispute, gave up her demand for indemnity, gave up half of Saghalien, gave up her claim upon the interned warships and, though triumphantly victorious in every step of the war, accepted terms of peace dictated by the nation she had conquered, and this "in the name of humanity." Russia had won the victory on the face of it, but the historian will credit to Japan the greater and the real victory, a victory of vast moral and humanitarian significance.

The glad news went out to the world on August 29, that the envoys had agreed upon every point and that a treaty of peace would forthwith be drafted. To Prof. Maartens, the famous authority of international law and to Mr. Dennison, an American, long an adviser of the Japanese Foreign Office, was assigned the task of actually drafting the treaty in accord with the general agreement that had been reached by the envoys. Their work was speedily accomplished and the "Treaty of Portsmouth" brought to an end this struggle that had cost hundreds of thousands of lives, billions of dollars and had completely changed the status of political power in the Far East.

The treaty of peace was finally signed at Portsmouth, N. H., on September 5, 1905; Sergius Witte and Baron Rosen signed for Russia, while Baron Komura and Mr. Takahira signed for Japan. It was signed by the Emperors of Russia and Japan and made public October 16, 1905.

The Emperor of Japan, on the one part, and the Emperor of all the Russias, on the other part, animated by a desire to restore the blessings of peace to their countries, have resolved to conclude a treaty of peace, and have for this purpose named their plenipotentiaries, that is to say, for his Majesty the Emperor of Japan, Baron Komura Jutaro, Jusami, Grand Cordon of the Imperial Order of the Rising Sun, his Minister for Foreign Affairs, and his Excellency, Takahira Kogoro, Imperial Order of the Sacred Treasure, his Minister to the United States, and his Majesty the Emperor of all the Russias his Excellency Sergius Witte, his Secretary of State and President of the Committee of Ministers of the Empire of Russia, and his Excellency Baron Roman Rosen, Master of the Imperial Court of Russia, his Majesty's Ambassador to the United States, who, after having exchanged their full powers, which were found to be in good and due form, have concluded the following articles:

There shall henceforth be peace and amity between their Majesties the Emperor of Japan and the Emperor of all the Russias, and between their respective States and subjects.

The Imperial Russian Government, acknowledging that Japan possesses in Korea paramount political, military and economical interests, engages neither to obstruct nor interfere with measures for guidance, protection and control which the Imperial Government of Japan may find necessary to take in Korea. It is understood that Russian subjects in Korea shall be treated in exactly the same manner as the subjects and citizens of other foreign Powers; that is to say, they shall be placed on the same footing as the subjects and citizens of the most favored nation. It is also agreed that, in order to avoid causes of misunderstanding, the two high contracting parties will abstain on the Russian-Korean frontier from taking any military measure which may menace the security of Russian or Korean territory.

First.—To evacuate completely and simultaneously Manchuria, except the territory affected by the lease of the Liaotung Peninsula, in conformity with the provisions of the additional article 1 annexed to this treaty, and,

Second.—To restore entirely and completely to the exclusive administration of China all the portions of Manchuria now in occupation, or under the control of the Japanese or Russian troops, with the exception of the territory above mentioned.

The Imperial Government of Russia declares that it has not in Manchuria any territorial advantages or preferential or exclusive concessions in the impairment of Chinese sovereignty, or inconsistent with the principle of equal opportunity.

Japan and Russia reciprocally engage not to obstruct any general measures common to all countries which China may take for the development of the commerce or industry of Manchuria.

The Imperial Russian Government transfers and assigns to the Imperial Government of Japan, with the consent of the Government of China, the lease of Port Arthur, Talien and the adjacent territory and territorial waters, and all rights, privileges and concessions connected with or forming part of such lease, and it also transfers and assigns to the Imperial Government of Japan all public works and properties in the territory affected by the above-mentioned lease.

The two contracting parties mutually engage to obtain the consent of the Chinese Government mentioned in the foregoing stipulation.

The Imperial Government of Japan, on its part, undertakes that the proprietary rights of Russian subjects in the territory above referred to shall be perfectly respected.

The Imperial Russian Government engages to transfer and assign to the Imperial Government of Japan, without compensation and with the consent of the Chinese Government, the railway between Changchunfu and Kuanchangtsu and Port Arthur, and all the branches, together with all the rights, privileges and properties appertaining thereto in that region, as well as all the coal mines in said region belonging to or worked for the benefit of the railway. The two high contracting parties mutually engage to obtain the consent of the Government of China mentioned in the foregoing stipulation.

Japan and Russia engage to exploit their respective railways in Manchuria exclusively for commercial and industrial purposes and nowise for strategic purposes. It is understood that this restriction does not apply to the railway in the territory affected by the lease of the Liaotung Peninsula.

The Imperial Governments of Japan and Russia with the view to promote and facilitate intercourse and traffic will as soon as possible conclude a separate convention for the regulation of their connecting railway services in Manchuria.

The Imperial Russian Government cedes to the Imperial Government of Japan in perpetuity and full sovereignty the southern portion of the Island of Saghalin and all the islands adjacent thereto and the public works and properties thereon. The fiftieth degree of north latitude is adopted as the northern boundary of the ceded territory. The exact alignment of such territory shall be determined in accordance with the provisions of the additional article II annexed to this treaty.

Japan and Russia mutually agree not to construct in their respective possessions on the Island of Saghalin or the adjacent islands any fortification or other similar military works. They also respectively engage not to take any military measures which may impede the free navigation of the Strait of La Perouse and the Strait of Tartary.

It is reserved to Russian subjects, inhabitants of the territory ceded to Japan, to sell their real property and retire to their country, but if they prefer to remain in the ceded territory they will be maintained and protected in the full exercise of their industries and rights of property on condition of submitting to the Japanese laws and jurisdiction. Japan shall have full liberty to withdraw the right of residence in or to deport from such territory of any inhabitants who labor under political or administrative disability. She engages, however, that the proprietary rights of such inhabitants shall be fully respected.

Russia engages to arrange with Japan for granting to Japanese subjects rights of fishery along the coasts of the Russian possession in the Japan, Okhotsk and Bering Seas.

It is agreed that the foregoing engagement shall not affect rights already belonging to Russian or foreign subjects in those regions.

The treaty of commerce and navigation between Japan and Russia having been annulled by the war the Imperial Governments of Japan and Russia engage to adopt as a basis for their commercial relations pending the conclusion of a new treaty of commerce and navigation the basis of the treaty which was in force previous to the present war, the system of reciprocal treatment on the footing of the most favored nation, in which are included import and export duties, customs formalities, transit and tonnage dues and the admission and treatment of agents, subjects and vessels of one country in the territories of the other.

As soon as possible after the present treaty comes in force all prisoners of war shall be reciprocally restored. The Imperial Governments of Japan and Russia shall each appoint a special commissioner to take charge of the prisoners. All prisoners in the hands of one Government shall be delivered to and be received by the commissioner of the other Government or by his duly authorized representative in such convenient numbers and at such convenient ports of the delivering State as such delivering State shall notify in advance to the commissioner of the receiving State.

The Governments of Japan and Russia shall present each other as soon as possible after the delivery of the prisoners is completed with a statement of the direct expenditures respectively incurred by them for the care and maintenance of the prisoners from the date of capture or surrender and up to the time of death or delivery. Russia engages to repay to Japan as soon as possible after the exchange of statement as above provided the difference between the actual amount so expended by Japan and the actual amount similarly disbursed by Russia.

The present treaty shall be ratified by their Majesties the Emperor of Japan and the Emperor of all the Russias. Such ratification shall be with as little delay as possible, and in any case no later than fifty days from the date of the signature of the treaty, to be announced to the Imperial Governments of Japan and Russia respectively through the French Minister at Tokio and the Ambassador of the United States at St. Petersburg, and from the date of the latter of such announcements this treaty shall in all its parts come into full force. The formal exchange of ratifications shall take place at Washington as soon as possible.

The present treaty shall be signed in duplicate in both the English and French languages. The texts are in absolute conformity, but in case of a discrepancy in the interpretation the French text shall prevail.

In conformity with the provisions of articles 3 and 9 of the treaty of peace between Japan and Russia of this date the undersigned plenipotentiaries have concluded the following additional articles:

The Imperial Governments of Japan and Russia mutually engage to commence the withdrawal of their military forces from the territory of Manchuria simultaneously and immediately after the treaty of peace comes into operation, and within a period of eighteen months after that date the armies of the two countries shall be completely withdrawn from Manchuria, except from the leased territory of the Liaotung Peninsula. The forces of the two countries occupying the front positions shall first be withdrawn.

The high contracting parties reserve to themselves the right to maintain guards to protect their respective railway lines in Manchuria. The number of such guards shall not exceed fifteen per kilometre and within that maximum number the commanders of the Japanese and Russian armies shall by common accord fix the number of such guards to be employed as small as possible while having in view the actual requirements.

The commanders of the Japanese and Russian forces in Manchuria shall agree upon the details of the evacuation in conformity with the above principles and shall take by common accord the measures necessary to carry out the evacuation as soon as possible, and in any case not later than the period of eighteen months.

As soon as possible after the present treaty comes into force a committee of delimitation composed of an equal number of members is to be appointed respectively by the two high contracting parties which shall on the spot mark in a permanent manner the exact boundary between the Japanese and Russian possessions on the Island of Saghalin. The commission shall be bound so far as topographical considerations permit to follow the fiftieth parallel of north latitude as the boundary line, and in case any deflections from that line at any points are found to be necessary compensation will be made by correlative deflections at other points. It shall also be the duty of the said commission to prepare a list and a description of the adjacent islands included in the cession, and finally the commission shall prepare and sign maps showing the boundaries of the ceded territory. The work of the commission shall be subject to the approval of the high contracting parties.

The foregoing additional articles are to be considered ratified with the ratification of the treaty of peace to which they are annexed.

In witness whereof the respective plenipotentiaries have signed and affixed seals to the present treaty of peace.

Done at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, this fifth day of the ninth month of the thirty-eighth year of the Meijei, corresponding to the twenty-third day of August, one thousand nine hundred and five. (September 5, 1905.)

Names, italicized phrases, and inconsistencies in capitalization and hyphenation have been left as printed. Otherwise, obvious typographical errors, punctuation errors, and inconsistencies in the punctuation of sidenotes and captions have been corrected.

Illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up paragraphs, thus the page number of the illustration might not match the page number in the List of Illustrations. Links in the List of Illustration lead to the images.

On page 278, "Commander-inChief" has been changed to "Commander-in-Chief" ("During the months which had elapsed since the arrival of the Russian Commander-in-Chief at the seat of war").

On page 373, "silhouttes" has been changed to "silhouettes" ("two long dark silhouettes, emitting quantities of smoke and evidently steaming at high speed").

On page 374, "silhouttes" has been changed to "silhouettes" ("two long, dark silhouettes emitting quantities of smoke").

On page 427, "(9)" has been changed to "(10)" ("(10) Wounds inflicted by modern arms heal readily").

On page 433, "mobility" has been changed to "immobility" ("the inexorable grasp of the Manchurian winter had fallen upon them and frozen them into immobility").

On page 458, "unrecord" has been left as printed ("continued under these unrecord of the actual campaign").

On page 507, "tht" has been changed to "the" ("General Oku avoided the Russian right centre just left of the railroad").

On page 518, "Russians resistance" has been changed to "Russian resistance" ("Thereupon the Russian resistance was redoubled in fury").

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CHAPTER I.
Causes of the War	13

CHAPTER II.
The First Blow	39

CHAPTER III.
The Korean Campaign	69

CHAPTER IV.
Naval Operations	101

CHAPTER V.
Sinking of the "Petropavlovsk"	133

CHAPTER VI.
Battle of the Yalu	167

CHAPTER VII.
Cutting off Port Arthur	197

CHAPTER VIII.
The Assault that Failed	225

CHAPTER IX.
Battle of Liaoyang	257

CHAPTER X.
Naval Battle off Port Arthur	289

CHAPTER XI.
Battle of the Sha-ho	317

CHAPTER XII.
The North Sea Outrage	347

CHAPTER XIII.
Surrender of Port Arthur	379

CHAPTER XIV.
The First Year of the War	409

CHAPTER XV.
After Port Arthur	430

CHAPTER XVI.
In Winter Quarters	453

CHAPTER XVII.
The Battle of Mukden	467

CHAPTER XVIII.
Retreat towards Harbin	497

CHAPTER XIX.
The Battle of the Japan Sea	523

CHAPTER XX.
The Treaty of Peace	557

	Page
A Silenced Gun at Port Arthur	Frontispiece
Japanese Infantry Attacking a Chinese Position	21
Map Showing the Area Affected by the Dispute	25
The Japanese at Port Arthur	27
Battle of the Yalu—Sinking of the Chih-yuen	38
Japanese and Russian Admirals	48
Japanese Generals	57
Russian Generals	68
The Harbor of Port Arthur	71
Russian Fleet Trying to Leave Port Arthur	77
Russian and Japanese Destroyers at Close Quarters	88
The Czar	97
The Mikado	97
Raid by the Vladivostock Fleet	107
The Tokio Military Hospital—Officers Quarters	118
Sketch Plan of Port Arthur's Main Fortifications	121
Funeral Procession of a Japanese Officer in Yokohama	125
A Skirmish Between Japanese and Russian Cavalry	129
Desolation in Manchuria	140
Blowing up of the Petropavlovsk	145
Arrival of a Dispatch for General Kuropatkin	152
Russian Concentration on the Yalu	161
Map Showing the Actions on the Yalu, April 29th-May 1st	169
Hauling a Japanese Howitzer into Position under Fire	171
Russians Collecting Wounded on the Night after the Battle	182
A Last Gallant Stand of Russian Gunners	191
After Three Months	199
In the Russian Trenches	202
A Desperate Encounter at Port Arthur	211
General Stoessel Exhorting his Troops in the Defence of Port Arthur	222
Outside Port Arthur	227
A Skirmish on the Manchurian Railway	234
Russians Charging Japanese Trenches at Port Arthur	243
After Four Months	247
Russian Priest in the Trenches with General Stackelberg's Army	250
General Nogi before Port Arthur	257
After Five Months	261
Food for the Japanese Army	265
Map Showing Territory Adjacent to Liaoyang	269
After Six Months	273
Death of Count Keller at Yang-Ze-Ling Pass	275
The Six Days' Action Around Liaoyang, Aug. 29-Sept. 3d	281
Map Showing Route of March and Principal Actions of the Four Japanese Armies, Feb. 7th-Sept. 4th	283
Japanese Assault on a Russian Position at Liaoyang	286
Russians Recapturing their Lost Guns at Liaoyang	295
On the Deck of the "Rurik"	307
After Seven Months	313
Capture of the "Reshitelni" at Chifu	316
Japanese Outpost Relieving Guard near the Sha-ho	325
Japanese Scaling Fort at Port Arthur	335
The Remnant of a Regiment After the Battle of the Sha-ho	347
Huge Siege Guns before Port Arthur	355
Thirsty Japanese Troops Crossing the Sha-ho	366
Fight in Street of Lin-Shin-Pu, Battle of Sha-ke River	375
Port Arthur and the Surrounding Forts	381
Hauling Guns Up a Captured Hill at Port Arthur	386
Japanese Eleven-Inch Mortar before Port Arthur	396
The Evacuation of Port Arthur	405
After Twelve Months	408
Cossacks in Retreat After a Reconnaissance Near Liaoyang	415
The Garrison of Port Arthur—Leaving the Fortress	426
The Bamboo Gun at Port Arthur	435
On the Slopes of Ojikeishan before Port Arthur	446
A Night Attack on a Russian Position	455
Japanese Troops Caught in Barbed Wire Entanglement	466
Map of the Battle of Mukden	469
Russian Retreat in Manchuria	475
Russian Suffering after the Battle of Mukden	486
On Board a Japanese Battle ship during the Battle of the Japan Sea	496
The Russian Fleet in the Battle of the Japan Sea	505
The Retreat from Mukden	519
Peace Envoys in Session at Portsmouth	556

BATTLESHIPS.

			Nominal	Gun	Weight of
Name	Displacement	I.H.P.	Speed	Protection	Broadside Fire
Hatsuse	15,000	15,000	18.0	14—6	4,240
Asahi	15,000	15,000	18.0	14—6	4,240
Shikishima	15,000	15,000	18.0	14—6	4,240
Mikasa	15,200	16,000	18.0	14—6	4,225
Yashima	12,300	13,000	18.0	14—6	4,000
Fuji	12,300	13,000	18.0	14—6	4,000

ARMORED CRUISERS.

Tokiwa	9,750	18,000	21.5	6—6	3,568
Asama	9,750	18,000	21.5	6—6	3,568
Yakuma	9,850	16,000	20.0	6—6	3,368
Adzuma	9,436	17,000	21.0	6—6	3,368
Idzumo	9,800	15,000	24.7	6—6	3,568
Iwate	9,800	15,000	24.7	6—6	3,568

PROTECTED CRUISERS.

Takasago	4,300	15,500	24.0	4-1/2—2	800
Kasagi	4,784	15,500	22.5	4-1/2	800
Chitose	4,784	15,500	22.5	4-1/2	800
Itsukushima	4,277	5,400	16.7	11—4	1,260
Hashidate	4,277	5,400	16.7	11—4	1,260
Matsushima	4,277	5,400	16.7	11—4	1,260
Yoshino	4,180	15,750	23.0	—	780
Naniwa	3,727	7,120	17.8	—	1,196
Takachiho	3,727	7,120	17.8	—	1,196
Akitsushima	3,150	8,400	19.0	—	780
Niitaka	3,420	9,500	20.0	—	920
Tsushima	3,420	9,500	20.0	—	920
Suma	3,700	8,500	20.0	—	335
Akashi	2,700	8,500	20.0	—	335

BATTLESHIPS.

			Nominal	Gun	Weight of
Name	Displacement	I.H.P.	Speed	Protection	Broadside Fire
	Tons		Knots.	In.	Lbs.
Poltava	10,950	11,200	17.0	10—5	3,367
Petropavlovsk	10,950	11,200	17.0	10—5	3,367
Sevastopol	10,950	11,200	17.0	10—5	3,367
Peresviet	12,674	14,500	19.0	10—5	2,672
Pobieda	12,674	14,500	19.0	10—5	2,672
Retvisan	12,700	16,000	18.0	10—5	3,434
Czarevitch	13,100	16,300	18.0	11—6-3/4	3,516

ARMORED CRUISERS.

			Nominal	Gun	Weight of
Name	Displacement	I.H.P.	Speed	Protection	Broadside Fire
	Tons		Knots.	In.	Lbs.
Bogatyr	6,750	19,500	23.0	5—4	872
Askold	6,500	9,500	23.0	—	772
Varyag	6,500	20,000	23.0	5	510
Diana	6,630	11,600	20.0	4-1/2	632
Pallada	6,630	11,600	20.0	4-1/2	632
Boyarin	3,200	11,500	22.0	—	180
Novik	3,000	18,000	25.0	—	180

ARMORED CRUISERS.

			Nominal	Gun	Weight of
Name	Displacement	I.H.P.	Speed	Protection	Broadside Fire
	Tons		Knots.	In.	Lbs.
Gromoboi	12,336	18,000	20.0	6—3/4	1,197
Bayan	7,800	17,000	22.0	7—3	952
Rossia	12,200	18,000	20.0	2	1,348
Rurik	10,940	3,500	18.0	3	1,345

ADMIRAL TOGO.		ADMIRAL KAMIMURA.
	ADMIRAL MAKAROFF.
ADMIRAL SKRYDLOFF.		ADMIRAL ROZHDESTVENSKY.

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Japan-Russia War: An Illustrated History of the War in the Far East

INTRODUCTION.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

The Japan-Russia War

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XV.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CHAPTER XIX.

CHAPTER XX.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

GENERAL KUROKI.		GENERAL OKU.
	MARSHAL OYAMA.
GENERAL NODZU.		GENERAL NOGI.

GENERAL LINEVITCH.		GENERAL GRIPENBERG.
	GENERAL KUROPATKIN.
GENERAL KAULBARS.		GENERAL RENNENKAMPFF.

	Displace-	Indic'd	Nom'l	Gun	W'ght of
	ment in	horse-	speed in	Protec'n	b'side fire
BATTLESHIPS.	tons.	power.	knots.	in inches.	in lbs.

Kniaz Suvaroff
(flagship)	13,516	16,800	18	11.6	4,426
Alexander III	13,516	16,800	18	11.6	4,426
Borodino	13,516	16,800	18	11.6	4,426
Orel	13,516	16,800	18	11.6	4,426
Ossliabia	12,674	14,500	18	10.5	2,672
Sissoi Veliky
(flagship)	8,880	10,400	16	12.5	3,186
Navarin	9,476	18,206	16	12.5	3,404

	Displace-	Indic'd	Nom'l	Gun	W'ght of
	ment in	horse-	speed in	Protec'n	b'side fire
	tons.	power.	knots.	in inches.	in lbs.

ARMORED CRUISERS.

Admiral Nakhimoff	8,500	9,000	16.7	6	944
Dmitri Donskoi	5,893	7,000	16	6.2	444

PROTECTED

Oleg	6,675	19,500	23	4	872
Aurora	6,630	11,600	20	4.5	632
Svietlana	3,828	8,500	20	4	476
Almaz	3,285	7,500	19	—	184
Jemtchug	3,200	7,000	24	—	184
Izumrud	3,200	7,000	24	—	184

THE RUSSIAN FLEET.

	Displace-	I. H. P.	Nominal	Gun	Weight of
Name	ment		speed	protection	broadside
	—Tons.		—Knots.	—In.	fire—Lbs.

Kniaz Suvaroff	13,516	16,800	18.0	11.6	4,426
Alexander III	13,516	16,800	18.0	11.6	4,426
Borodino	13,516	16,800	18.0	11.6	4,426
Orel	13,516	16,800	18.0	11.6	4,426
Oslabya	12,674	14,500	19.0	10.5	2,672
Sissoi Veliky	8,880	8,500	16.0	12.5	3,186
Navarin	9,476	9,000	16.0	12.5	3,404

ARMORED CRUISERS.

Dmitri D'skoi	5,893	7,000	15.0	12.2	444
Admiral Nakhimoff	8,500	9,000	19.0	6.0	944

PROTECTED CRUISERS.

Oleg	6,675	19,500	23.0	4.0	872
Aurora	6,630	11,000	20.0	4.5	632
Svietlana	3,828	8,500	20.0	4.0	476
Almaz	3,285	7,500	19.0	184
Jemtchug	3,200	17,000	24.0	184
Izumrud	3,200	17,000	24.0	184

THE JAPANESE FLEET.

Asahi	15,000	15,000	18.0	14.6	4,232
Shikishima	15,000	15,000	18.0	14.6	4,232
Mikasa	15,000	16,000	18.0	14.6	4,232
Fuji	12,300	13,000	18.0	14.6	4,005

ARMORED CRUISERS.

Tokiwa	9,750	18,000	21.5	6.6	1,779
Asama	9,750	18,000	21.5	6.6	1,779
Yakumo	9,850	16,000	20.0	6.6	1,679
Azuma	9,436	17,000	21.0	6.6	1,679
Idzuma	9,800	15,000	24.7	6.6	1,779
Iwate	9,800	15,000	24.7	6.6	1,779
Kasuga	7,853	14,000	20.0	6.6	1,686
Nisshin	7,853	14,000	20.0	6.6	1,606

PROTECTED CRUISERS.

Takasago	4,300	15,500	24.0	4-1/2	804
Kasagi	4,784	15,500	22.5	4-1/2	804
Itsukushima	4,277	5,400	16.7	11.4	1,260
Hashidate	4,277	5,400	16.7	11.4	1,260
Matsushima	4,277	5,400	16.7	11.4	1,260
Naniwa	3,727	7,120	17.3		1,200
Takishibo	3,727	7,120	17.3		1,200
Atkitsushima	3,150	8,400	19.0		380
Nitaka	3,420	9,500	20.0		466
Tsushima	3,420	9,500	20.0		466
Suma	2,700	8,500	20.0		335
Akashi	2,700	8,500	20.0		335
Idzumi	3,000	6,000	18.0		335