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Title: A secret agent in Port Arthur
Author: Wirt Gerrare
Release date: April 8, 2026 [eBook #78388]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Archibald Constable & Co Ltd, 1905
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78388
Credits: deaurider and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SECRET AGENT IN PORT ARTHUR ***
[Illustration: A FACSIMILE OF THE AUTHOR’S INSTRUCTIONS.]
A SECRET AGENT IN
PORT ARTHUR
BY
WILLIAM GREENER
LONDON
ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & CO LTD
16 JAMES STREET, HAYMARKET
1905
PREFATORY NOTE
No one who has seen anything of the fighting between the Russians and
the Japanese needs to make any apology when presenting to the public
a truthful account of any events of which he was an eye-witness. Very
little was actually seen by any newspaper correspondent, and every
history of the war, and even of each campaign, must depend for many
particulars upon official reports, with which the public are familiar.
I do not profess to have attempted to compile anything like a detailed
story of the siege. Instead, I have preferred to give merely my own
experiences in Port Arthur and elsewhere in Manchuria and the Far East;
to describe what I saw, to repeat something of what was told to me, to
say what I thought of such happenings as interested me, and to write of
the people whom I met when in quest of information. Some of the things
I have set down may throw sidelights upon certain phases of the war,
and if what I have written induces readers to think for themselves what
ought to be the policy in the Far East of Great Britain and the United
States, then my object will have been attained.
CONTENTS
I SECRET AGENTS, CORRESPONDENTS AND SPIES 1
II RUSSIA AND MANCHURIA BEFORE THE WAR 18
III LIFE AT PORT ARTHUR 39
IV WAR 58
V HIDING IN PORT ARTHUR 78
VI LAST DAYS IN PORT ARTHUR 114
VII THE DAY’S WORK 136
VIII IN NEUTRAL TERRITORY 158
IX CONSULS, CORRESPONDENTS AND OTHERS 179
X THE BATTLE OF TASHICHIAO 204
XI THE JAPANESE AS CONQUERORS 222
XII CONTRASTS AND COMPARISONS 233
XIII THE ATTACK ON PORT ARTHUR 249
XIV THE DEFENCE OF PORT ARTHUR 268
XV JAPAN’S REQUIREMENTS AND CHINA’S FUTURE 295
ILLUSTRATIONS
Facsimile of Author’s Instructions _frontispiece_
Facsimile of an order in the Chinese
Telegraph Office at Tientsin. _to face_ 190
The Battle of Tashichiao. 207
The Russian Retreat 216
The Fortress of Port Arthur. 269
Addendum
In order to avoid misapprehension the Author wishes to
state with reference to the notice re-produced at page 190
that he is satisfied that the notice was issued without the
knowledge or authority of Reuter’s Agency Limited, or the
Associated Press of America, and that none of the telegrams
were communicated to them.
CHAPTER I
Secret Agents, Correspondents and Spies
Secret agents as practical workers in the field of journalism are
little known to the public. The character and scope of my operations
may be gathered from these pages, but it is not my intention to
disclose here any details of the inner workings of newspaper offices.
Much of the information which reaches the editorial offices of a great
journal is neither published nor intended for publication. A foreign
correspondent may desire the suppression of news he sends, yet require
leading articles and the policy of the paper to be shaped upon a
knowledge such as he possesses of events of no immediate concern to the
public. Special circumstances and extraordinary conditions sometimes
require services which cannot be rendered adequately by resident
foreign contributors, or known special correspondents. In my case the
instructions were simple and definite. I was to journey through Russia,
Siberia and Manchuria; make myself acquainted with certain facts;
obtain what information I could on the subjects specified; communicate
same to my paper in the manner directed; and report myself at Peking
for further instructions at a given date.
War between Russia and Japan was believed to be imminent; much of the
information I sought related more or less closely to military affairs,
but reports on these matters were neither published nor divulged.
The _Times_ office wished to obtain the truth, and to be the best
informed--in that following a policy which has grown into a custom.
The status of the secret agent is that of a special correspondent
travelling incognito. Amongst men of our own race whom I met on
terms of absolute equality the chief were: officers of the British
Intelligence Department; inquiry agents of the State Department,
Washington; reporter-detectives of the U.S. Customs; paid spies of
foreign governments, and tourists. Those of us who had a common object
cultivated most the society of Russian naval and military officers and
their associates; the Custom’s agents sought the shippers of contraband
goods and immigrants intended for the United States, and the tourists
all places of interest. When war began, the Intelligence officers
withdrew to neutral territory; the secret agents and spies became
avowed newspaper correspondents, and the tourists disappeared.
In the earlier stages of the war the distinction between spies and
newspaper correspondents was a fine one. The difference consisted
chiefly in the nature of the employment, but it mattered little to the
power spied upon whether the reporter was paid by a newspaper or by
the enemy. It was important that naval and military movements should
be kept secret, and a plan was marred if a fleet were reported seen by
a press despatch-boat or tramp steamer, or one of the enemy’s scouts.
The presence of all newspaper men, and most civilians, was irksome to
commanders. It is not surprising that newspaper correspondents were
denied the facilities they expected, before an adequate censorship
had been established; for, as a matter of fact they not infrequently
acted as spies without intending to do so. For instance, in June, a
correspondent landed at Port Arthur from a junk; he saw little there,
and was sent back to Chifu at the first opportunity. He stated,
amongst other things, that fresh provisions were not scarce in the
besieged fortress, and immediately afterwards the junk supplies there
appreciably diminished, for the Japanese watched the coast with greater
vigilance.
The spies who acted as newspaper representatives do not call for
special condemnation, since a spy is expected to do whatever will
effect his purpose; and although his presence and behaviour may
hamper the genuine correspondent, it is the newspaper which the spy
pretends to represent that alone has a substantial grievance. Spies and
correspondents are equally eager to obtain every item of information
that has any interest, and in order to succeed one takes the same risks
as often as does the other.
The treatment which would be accorded a spy and a correspondent by
the military authorities would differ, but the difficulty has been to
detect the spy and exculpate the correspondent. By the Russians it was,
at first, deemed most satisfactory to regard both as though all were
spies.
Some weeks after hostilities were commenced the Viceroy’s staff drew up
regulations which were approved at St. Petersburg, and enforced. Their
object was to lessen the number of newspaper representatives with the
Russian army at the theatre of war, and to control them effectually
apart from the restraint exercised by the censorship which was then
established. The conditions imposed cannot be too widely known, as
they show exactly some of the difficulties with which accredited
correspondents had to contend.
Art. IV. Each war correspondent on arrival at the scene of
action must sign a written compact binding himself:
(i.) Not to interfere in any way with preparations for
war, or with the plans of the Staff, nor to divulge
anything which should be kept secret, such as, _the
result of the action of the enemy_, damages done to
fortifications, losses of guns, etc.
(ii.) Not to communicate any information about the enemy,
which, not being proved, nor having any foundation in fact,
could awaken public uneasiness.
(iii.) Not to insert in any correspondence _any criticism
whatever_ concerning the decisions, or acts, of members of
the Staff, but limit reports to facts.
(iv.) To carry out exactly all orders of the higher
military authorities given through the officers appointed
to explain to correspondents, and of those in charge of the
censorship.
Art. V. The violation of any of the above published
regulations, the non-observance or the disregard of the rules
issued by the military authorities, immodesty, (indiscretion)
lack of tact, will entail a caution in minor cases, or
expulsion from the scene of military activity if serious,
providing always that the correspondence or conduct does not of
itself constitute a criminal offence.
Art. VI. Correspondents are bound to fulfil absolutely all the
requirements specified in Arts. IV. and V., with regard to
the acts, movements, and work of the fleet, during which all
correspondents, without exception, are forbidden absolutely
to enter the Admiralty, the docks, workshops, and other
buildings of the Marine Administration, or _be in boats_ in the
harbour, or roads of the ports of Vladivostok and Port Arthur.
Correspondents _must not apply_ to the Admirals in command for
any relaxation of this rule.
Art. VIII.... Each correspondent must be furnished with
written permission to keep horses, vehicles, and servants,
and these also must have a written certificate of identity.
Correspondents are responsible for themselves and also for
their servants.
Art. IX. Correspondents are bound to apply to the Chief of
a detachment for permission to remain with that corps. In
case the chief may find the presence of the correspondent
undesirable for military considerations, the correspondent is
bound to leave without delay.
Art. XI. Correspondents must carry always on their person their
permits and those for their servants.
Art. XII. Correspondents must wear always on the left arm a
broad red band with the letters B.K. in black.
Art. XV. Correspondence is permitted (_a_) in telegram form;
(_b_) as separate articles, with marks and signs as intended
for publication. Cipher messages are prohibited.
Art. XVI. Correspondents must endeavour to supply without delay
to the Viceroy’s Staff two copies of each newspaper in which
their correspondence is printed.
Some correspondents, following the instructions of their papers,
signed the above conditions and more or less conscientiously adhered
to them. Others were unwilling to forgo the privileges of the
ordinary correspondent, and, in preference to being formally attached
to the Russian army, awaited developments and remained within the
Russian lines near the border of the neutral territory, where they
were tolerated. No foreign correspondents were permitted to remain
at Port Arthur. At Newchwang those who made a practice of dodging
the censorship, and in their messages betrayed an unintelligent
anticipation of events, were requested to leave. The newspaper
free-lances for the most part frequented the territory between the
Great Wall and the river Liao, and the treaty ports of Chifu and
Newchwang, where the newspapers and news agencies already had their own
permanent resident representatives.
The free correspondents might telegraph as news accounts of things
seen, reports of things heard, and statements of imagined events. They
were in a better position during the early stages of the war than
the accredited correspondents accepted by either the Russian or the
Japanese authorities, who were restricted to official communications.
Of the actual fighting, most of these saw nothing at all until the
battle of Liaoyang at the end of August; there were only Reuter’s
representative, Lieut.-Col. Norris-Newman of the _Daily Mail_, and
myself at Port Arthur on the occasion of the first bombardment, and
only the _Daily Mail_ representative, Col. Emerson and myself, at the
battle of Tashichiao. Neither Etzel, who was shot, nor Middleton, who
died, ever saw an engagement between the Russians and Japanese, only
guerilla encounters of Russians and Chinese, which were of almost daily
occurrence.
The treatment of the war correspondents by the authorities on both
sides indicates that their presence on the field of battle is not only
undesired but will not be tolerated. The men who wish to study the
human side of the war at first hand, those who wish to witness how the
soldiers advance under fire, carry a position, waver, or retreat, will
have only accidental opportunities, as their views are not wanted by
commanders any more than are the criticisms of independent military
experts present at the engagements. In a word, the occupation of the
war correspondent has gone. The foreign military _attachés_ do not
appear to have been afforded facilities denied to correspondents,
and their accounts also must be based largely upon what they hear,
supported by topographical knowledge gained by subsequent visits to the
lines where the real fighting took place.
An American correspondent on the Japanese side informed me that he
estimated the newspaper representatives there to have cost their papers
in the aggregate over half a million yen, and it is certain that those
on the Russian side cost theirs a quarter of a million roubles, in all
£75,000--an outlay quite disproportionate to the value received.
It must be remembered that the expenses of a correspondent are very
heavy, and that ordinarily he is well remunerated for his services.
Even in the China coast ports, for instance Chifu, where there is
no likelihood of attack and war prices consequently do not rule, the
out of pocket expenses of a news-gatherer exceeded £300 in one month,
and this exclusive of the cost of telegraphing. The remuneration of
a correspondent at the port--not a man sent out specially, but a
merchant’s clerk appointed in lieu of a journalist of experience--is
£50 a month. This may seem high pay, but in North China salaries are at
a higher level than at home and a well educated, competent, trustworthy
man, if a British subject, rarely expects less, for even a soldier
appointed as a railway guard receives from £15 to £18 a month, and has
free quarters at each end of his day’s run and free meals whilst on his
train.
In the war area, at Yingkow for instance, within the Russian
lines, although Newchwang is a treaty port, provisions and all
necessaries were at war prices, owing to the Russians buying all
they could secure for transmission to Liaoyang. The cost of living
was double and treble that current at Tientsin and Chifu, or even
the much nearer Shanhaikwan--all being outside the war area. Some
correspondents--indeed most--received the salaries of correspondents
at the theatre of war, usually upwards of £100 a month, whilst the
representatives of American newspapers, weekly periodicals, and even
monthly magazines, received very much more.
The American newspapers are sending out additional men for the
approaching campaign, but judging from the results already obtained it
would appear at first sight that for the accounts of events the public
must depend upon the official telegrams and the reports given by the
news agencies’ services. This should not be so. I have proved that the
official notifications can be beaten in time to even such near points
as the China Treaty ports, and official messages to America and Europe
require so much longer for transmission that the difference in point of
time would be even more appreciable.
It is pardonable of Admiral Sir J. C. D. Hay to congratulate the
shareholders of Reuter’s Telegram Company on the valuable character of
the company’s news, and to instance what it has achieved, but it must
not be presumed that perfection has yet been reached. Mr. John Cowen,
of the _China Times_, which throughout the war has had the best service
of any paper, remarks that, “Sir John Hay might have added, if he had
prophetic vision, that Reuter’s Agency would first record, as it did
on June 23, the capture of Liaoyang by the Japanese (not taken until
September 3); also that Kaiping has been captured three times by the
Japanese according to the same authority. The fact remains however,
that without such services we should be very badly off.”
The war correspondents who had been through several campaigns,
well-known authorities such as Mr. Bennet Burleigh, Mr. E. F. Knight,
Mr. George Lynch, Mr. Douglas Story and Mr. H. F. Wigham, are to be
counted amongst the smartest and most enterprising Britons it has
ever been my fortune to meet, and their inability to surpass their
former achievements is due entirely to the official restrictions they
had no choice but to accept. Amongst the Americans, Mr. J. Archibald,
Mr. R. H. Little, and Mr. F. Palmer are in the fore front as news
correspondents, and they have the knowledge, the abilities, and the
energy requisite to keep there. Of the other men, it may be said that
most were of more than average ability, though some could not ride,
others not write, and one was unable even to distinguish between the
national flags of France and Russia. They lacked most a competent
knowledge of the technics of their profession. Even those who did
send perfect messages probably had learnt the knack from practical
study of the best cables arriving at their offices, and knew not why
they were cast in a particular form. This was a point on which the
representatives of American newspapers had full knowledge.
If the reader imagines that a correspondent having seen an engagement,
rushes to a telegraph office, scribbles out an account and straightway
hands it in for transmission, he is very much mistaken. The man who
acted in that way would be beaten by the expert every time. Mr. Bennet
Burleigh drafts his messages with the greatest care, and accurate and
precise though he is, he never fails to revise in a quite wholesale
fashion before dispatching what may appear to be only a hurried
account after all. Dr. Morrison writes and rewrites, and revises and
rewrites and weighs the value of every word--the use of the exact word
characterizes his style--then when he is finished the draft is usually
type-written by his secretary. Even then, by the time the Chinese
telegraph operators have completed their work upon it, the message may
be in such a state as to need its reconstruction almost before it is
fit to be forwarded to the next relay station. Hours are often spent by
competent correspondents in drafting even a moderately long telegram,
and the time required to write a serviceable message a column in length
is much more than proportionately greater. The longest message I wired
was immediately after my return from Port Arthur, and it consisted of
only two hundred words--many correspondents rarely send important news
in any telegram of more that half that length.
Possibly one of the most interesting personalities in the journalistic
world of to-day is that of Dr. G. E. Morrison, the _Times_
correspondent at Peking. He is an Australian by birth and education,
a doctor of medicine by profession, an investigator by nature and a
diplomat by predilection. Every one knows that he was born at Geelong
in 1862, that he has walked across Australia and China, practised
medicine in Spain, and is fond of shooting. In appearance he is unlike
the average North China resident, though he is of medium height and
build, is clean shaven and wears his ashen grey hair cropped short.
There is something distinguished about Dr. Morrison, something he
does not derive from his immaculate attire, from the nabob stick with
which he toys as he walks, or from the forward inclination of his
head, characteristic of thinkers. Indeed his manner at first suggests
the pedagogue, but when you see the man you know you have something
more; you have a man who can and does think for himself, a man who can
scheme, and with dogged pertinacity peg away until that upon what he
has set his heart upon having is obtained. He is hard as a Manitoba
winter; a man of resolution and of power, a man devoted to an idea,
or a principle, or a rule of life; a man who will go long lengths to
gain a point, who will find out means with which to accomplish his
self-set task, who will get at the right people and use them; a man who
is unlikely to be generally loved, but may be esteemed, and cannot
but be admired for what he is; a man who may not possess many real
friends, but is certain to have enemies, and himself be an implacable
foe. Though he has a nature which certainly is not running over with
sweetness, there is probably no one in China for whom British residents
there have more genuine respect, or one whom they understand so little.
Dr. Morrison delights to puzzle the ordinary person, so that by some
his commonest talk is regarded as a cryptic utterance, to be treasured
and studied lest its true inner meaning escape observation. He is not
a sinologue and has only a nodding acquaintance with Chinese, but is
better informed than most people, has a trained power of observation
and the gift of insight. Accustomed also to think, and being of a
contemplative temperament, he reads signs which are to others without
significance, so is able to surprise them, and cause them to ask
of each other what it is he means. He is credited with having had
a share in the work of bringing about the Anglo-Japanese alliance,
and throughout the Far East the present hostilities are known as
“Morrison’s War.” He cannot be said to be popular at Peking, and his
visits to the Legations are so quickly followed by matters of moment,
that he is regarded there as a very harbinger of unrest.
Dr. Morrison lives alone in a large, rambling, quaint Chinese house
situated off the great boulevard and about midway between the east wall
of the Forbidden City and the Telegraph Office. As do all the houses
in Peking, his home faces south, and occupies the greater portion of a
small and cheerless compound. There is a little room at the extremity
of the west wing which serves as a study. In the main building there
is a dining-room hung with Chinese built-up pictures, and crowded with
curios and black-wood furniture. The larger part of the ground floor
is devoted to his library, which is one of the finest collections of
books on China in private hands. There are books on shelves, books
in cases, books covered up, and books loose; there are rows and rows
of books, and book tables and indexes and library fittings without
end. Never until amongst them did I realize how cold, cheerless, and
uninviting too many books render a dwelling house, how completely they
destroy its homeliness. A near neighbour of Dr. Morrison, who is also a
literary man living in a Chinese house, has improvised from even less
promising media originally, a home suggesting cosiness, luxury, and
real loveliness. The difference is that he has books everywhere in his
home, whilst the other cannot find his home for the books. But books
are to Dr. Morrison merely tools; he is not inordinately proud of his
library; still less does he love it; but is full of regard for it as
the means to an end.
Dr. Morrison speaks rapidly, using short words and somewhat long
sentences, and there is an evenness in the tone of his voice which
betrays that sentiment is lacking in his temperament. His address is
somewhat stiff, but his phrases are never without point, and have the
saving grace of being pertinent. I met him one day unexpectedly as he
stepped from the train at Yingkow, and this was his salutation: “Hallo,
Greener, what are these Cossacks doing here? How many are there of
them? How’re you?”
People think that Dr. Morrison takes himself too seriously, and is too
devoted to his work--it is that for which he lives--but none doubt his
sincerity, and all admire his patriotism, which is deep, genuine, and
predominant. The one trait in his character which makes him close kin
with all is his sincere and undisguised liking for young children.
The infants of his serving-men run loose about his rooms and are sure
that he will pet them. Occasionally he will treat himself to real
entertainment. He gives a children’s party, to which all are welcome.
The courtyard is roofed over with sun-mats; there are flowers and
sweets, music and games, jugglers, conjurers, tumblers and tricksters,
and not one of the merry party enjoys the romp more than does the
staid journalist who thus momentarily forgets his cares, his Chinese
pictures, his curios, and even himself--a mandarin entitled to have
twelve bearers for his chair and several clangs on the gong at the
entrance gate.
CHAPTER II
Russia and Manchuria before the War
The year 1903, whether reckoned by the Julian or by the Gregorian
calendar, was ended before Russia realized that war was the only
possible outcome of her protracted negotiations with Japan. It is the
practice of diplomats to dissemble, and Russian statesmen, if they
knew what the issue must be--and in my opinion very few of them even
suspected war--hid it successfully from the Russian people. The Russian
peasant neither knows nor is wanted to know anything of world politics
or to take any interest in them; the military and civil officials have
no voice in the direction of the foreign policy of their country and
scarcely possess an opinion on the subject; Russian journalists are
expected to express such declarations only as are indicated by official
communications. The only articulate class, the only people in Russia
who reflect the impressions produced by the absorption of news current
in the world, is formed of those engaged in commercial and industrial
pursuits. They are aware of the movements of the peace-barometer.
To them the fluctuations in the stock markets, abroad and at home,
showed the importance foreign speculators attached to the negotiations
proceeding between Russia and Japan, but even the value of this
indication was discredited by the great confidence the Russian merchant
had in the ability of Russian statesmen to arrange with Japan, avert
an immediate crisis, and force the issue at a season Russia would find
favourable for war.
In European Russia I met no one who wanted war; many who were opposed
to it. The merchants and manufacturers had Manchuria as a free market
for their goods; imports from Japan into Manchuria, like all sea-borne
goods, were taxed, and high duties were imposed on foreign goods
brought into Siberian markets by way of the Manchurian ports and
railways.
The state of affairs in the Far East was the chief, if not the only,
topic of conversation. Moscow residents agreed that attention was
riveted upon Manchuria, and they inferred that the trans-Siberian
express trains were crowded with naval and military officers. They
argued that although four trains ran every week, the three controlled
by the State would doubtless be monopolized for Government servants,
and that my best chance would be by the train of the International
Sleeping-Car Company. I determined to leave Moscow by the first train,
one of the State expresses. At the office of the Sleeping-Car Company
I was informed that all trains were very full, and at the town office
of the State Railways I was told the same, and that I could not book
then by the next train, but might be able to do so at the station. I
sent a messenger from the hotel to buy a through ticket at once, and
he obtained it without difficulty. It will scarcely be believed that I
was the only passenger going through to the Far East. A Jew merchant of
Harbin was my only companion for days. He was utilizing the Christmas
holidays to make his return journey, and had with him many of his
purchases in Moscow, for he told me that although one should make the
journey in less than a fortnight, the time required for the conveyance
of goods was from four to five months, the average speed being less
than 120 miles a day--about five miles an hour. The third day we were
alone I called his attention to the fact that on the train and engines
there were upwards of twenty-five men all engaged in running the train;
that at great expense and with special effort the scheduled time was
being kept--for one Englishman and one Jew! We represented the two
races the Russian Government likes least; but for us the train would
have been absolutely empty.
I have crossed Siberia by railway three times, each at a different
season of the year, and not once without encountering a delay through
some breakdown. On this occasion we had a broken rail, which made us
nine hours late at Irkutsk; another in Trans-Baikalia, which delayed
us hours before reaching the Manchurian frontier, and on the Eastern
Chinese line, a military train ahead ran off the rails, blocked the
line all day, and caused us to be twelve hours behind time again at
Harbin.
The line is maintained regardless of cost, and allowance must be made
for the many difficulties to be overcome. It is true that there is no
need for so many miles of snow-sheds as the Canadian Pacific railway
has found necessary, but for thousands of versts across the steppes
snow-screens have to be set up parallel to the track, to keep the snow
from drifting over the permanent way and blocking the line. In spring
and autumn there are heavy floods, and not infrequently a “wash-out,”
in summer the unballasted track is blown away from the sleepers and
must be constantly renewed. In winter everywhere, and in summer on
many sections, the supply of water is kept up at great expense, and a
drought would threaten the running of extra traffic.
Two engines are required on heavy grades, and special twenty-wheel
locomotives are used on the hilly sections. Hot water is kept night
and day at most stations, and the trains suffer severely from the
inclement weather. The double windows are permanently frosted; often
the vestibule doors become fast, great patches of frozen snow adhere to
the roofs, the sides and panels are hidden under a thick white hoar,
and long streaming icicles hang from the roof to the bogie truck where
the water from the tank for the heating apparatus in each carriage has
splashed over during the day’s run. At every large station there is
a special gang of attendants, who attack the train vigorously on its
arrival; they use hammers and crow-bars, iron rods heated red, long
flaming torches, scalding water, and even light fires of shavings under
the carriages to free the breaks, and little by little thaw out the
working parts of the frost-bound train, wringing, as it were, tears
of anguish from the cold-hearted monster that has crossed the bleak
plateaux of Siberia in winter.
The Baikal ferry was presumed to be the weakest link in the through
chain of railway communication. At this date both of the ice-breakers
were running daily, but were needing their periodical overhauling in
dock. The larger steamer was capable of putting seven trains, or seven
thousand men, across the lake every two days. The _Angara_ could be
counted upon to ferry across five hundred men every day. If goods were
taken instead of troops, there would be an appreciable lessening of the
number of voyages owing to the delay in loading and discharging. The
_Baikal_ can accommodate on deck twenty-four loaded trucks, or covered
vans, and as these are simply run on board and off again on to the
rails, a complete train can have quick despatch.
The ice was over three feet in thickness, but the _Angara_, much the
smaller of the two steamers, not only crossed in good time, but on
several occasions went out of the track, and cut a new road through the
solid virgin ice of the lake.
In order to continue the traffic without interruption whilst the
steamers were laid up, a horse ferry had been organized, and the
contractors had undertaken to convey across the lake on sledges at
least 750 tons of goods daily.
The railway across the lake was from the first fraught with danger
owing to the enormous cracks always found in the lake-ice. The railway
round the lake was being constructed with great speed, and would be
ready for traffic early in 1905; but it has already been opened.
I am still of the opinion that the Trans-Siberian State Express trains
afford the most comfortable railway travelling in the world. The cars
are as luxurious but not so sumptuous as the Pullman Palace cars of
America. They are wider, and give more accommodation; and as the trains
are run solid through from Moscow to Irkutsk, meals are provided at
every hour of the day, and it is not necessary to breakfast before
seven one morning and after nine the next, as sometimes happens on the
American through trans-continental routes. The piano in the saloon is
a welcome addition; the exercising apparatus is useful, and the bath a
convenience. The observation car was not much frequented in winter, and
the _raison d’être_ of the photographer’s dark room, with its dishes
and trays, has departed, now that all photographing along the route is
strictly prohibited.
Siberia is little altered the last three years; but in Manchuria there
have been notable changes. The border-town of Manchuria, five miles
east of the frontier, has been created by the railway. It possesses
not only some fine brick buildings but a great market, intended for
dealings with the Mongols in the produce of the great plains. The whole
district is marked out into lots, like a new town that is booming in
the west of America, and in addition there is a detached native town
already inhabited.
The agricultural settlements of western Manchuria have developed
rapidly, and appear to be thriving. They have also increased in number.
It is interesting to note that Manchuria was exploited under the
direction of General Grodekov, formerly administrator of Tashkand
district, and the same method of founding Russian colonies was followed
in Manchuria. Russian subjects obtain free grants of agricultural land,
and, in some instances, of town lots. Elsewhere the Russian Government
is obtaining high prices for building-sites in towns, and everywhere
high rents to occupiers are the rule. In western Manchuria the tenure
of land by the nomad tribes of Mongol graziers is of the slightest, and
at present they seem to benefit by relinquishing the land in exchange
for the better market the Russian settlements supply. In central Asia
the landowners dispossessed of their domains by the Russian settlers
made certain charges against the governor, and forwarded them to St.
Petersburg. The charges were neither examined nor entertained; the
villagers were punished and the governor promoted to a better post
under the Crown.
Throughout Manchuria the Eastern Chinese Railway, following the lead of
the Russo-Chinese bank and of the Canadian Pacific Railway Company, has
undertaken other work than transporting passengers and goods; through
it the Russian Government has been exploiting the territory, trading,
and deriving revenue from the direct development of the natural
resources of the country.
Another change is the increase of military establishments along the
railway route. The greatest is at Fu-li-ahdé, where the line crosses
the Nonni, below Tsitsikar. Here the Russians have large barracks,
extensive fortifications and a military colony. Everywhere, too,
block-houses were in course of erection. The intention was to have
them all along the route within three miles of each other. Up to the
present time those finished are closest together between Pogranichnaya
and Harbin, and on the branch line between Harbin and Port Arthur.
The first to be erected were near large native towns, but the chain
is almost complete now. They are of one type: a two-storied building,
capable of accommodating a hundred men.
A compound is surrounded by a high wall, with two round towers, looped
for musketry, diagonally opposite each other, and so commanding all
four walls of the quadrangle. Another point: there are two qualities of
brick in common use throughout Manchuria, red and blue, the blue being
the more durable. The station buildings are mostly of red brick, the
military quarters and block-houses mostly of the blue variety. Stone is
freely used in districts where it is easily obtainable in quantities
suited to building purposes.
Harbin has grown almost beyond recognition. Old Harbin, still the
administrative and military centre, has changed but little, and is,
if possible, rowdier and more blatantly banal than formerly; but the
New Town, China Town, Lower Harbin, the Sungari Pristan, and the Middle
Town, now contain massed buildings of fine proportions, where but four
years ago, there was only an uncultivated plain, and all indicate the
growing wealth and increased trade of the commercial capital of the new
Manchuria.
In this district many square miles of arable land are under
cultivation, and the wheat grown is milled in the vicinity. So enormous
is the supply that I met an agent travelling to Singapore and India,
in the hope of finding there a market for some of the surplus from the
Harbin district.
As the 1904 crops have been properly harvested, and by this date
probably are milled also, the Russian army in Manchuria ought not next
year to be short of its staple food. The wealth derived at little cost
of labour from the land is so enormous that the inhabitants are already
comparatively rich. Prices are high. My travelling companion, the Jew
merchant, informed me that he could journey to Moscow, buy what be
needed there at retail prices in the shops, take them to Harbin, and
not only defray the cost of his journey from the profits, but secure a
satisfactory surplus.
Journeying farther east improvements are visible all along the route.
The Southern Ussuri district of the Primorski territory has been
developed. Nikolskoe has become an important military centre. Barracks
to accommodate 20,000 men are in course of construction, and more land
has been brought under cultivation. Vladivostok has grown and improved;
it possesses a new cathedral, many new government buildings, three
theatres and several additions to its business streets. Additional
barracks have also been erected at Vladivostok, and its importance has
increased rather than diminished since it ceased to be a free port.
There is no lack of amusement, gaiety, and “life” at Vladivostok, but
the port has an appreciable commerce which gives it staidness and
stability. It is not entirely a naval station as Port Arthur was, nor
so absolutely in the hands of the naval and military commandants. It
has a severe climate; in January it was painfully cold and out of
doors life scarcely enjoyable. The harbour was frozen over solid,
with the exception of the track kept open by the daily voyages of the
Danish ice-breaker, _Nadejni_. The _Rossia_, _Rurik_, and _Gromoboi_,
lay alongside the ice, gangways from the ships’ sides giving access
thereto. The Cardiff steam coal from the British colliers, then
discharging in port, was being carted across the ice to the cruisers.
The defences of the fortress had not been materially strengthened.
Several new batteries had been prepared, for the most part on the
land side, and they face the east, but the guns for them were lying
at the harbour level, and those in the new forts were not mounted.
On board the men-of-war, even in the dockyards, and on shore there
was a general slackness. In the depth of winter, Vladivostok is not
one of the busiest ports in the world. New Year festivities rather
than war were uppermost in the minds of the society people to whom
the existence of forts and batteries assured security apart from the
apparently impenetrable barrier of the ice-girt coast. I learned that
Vladivostok had not in hand at that time sufficient supplies to feed
the garrison and inhabitants for a fortnight. They were dependent upon
the stores and granaries in the neighbourhood of Nikolskoe, four to
five hours distant by railway. In short, the defences of the place were
so incomplete, and its resources so shallow, that I quite believed a
Japanese Intelligence officer when he told me they could capture the
port in a week.
The Russian military authorities were so slack and so confident in
the strength of their fortress that when a Japanese squadron made a
surprise visit in March, the guns still lay at the foot of the new
forts, batteries were unmanned, and thus but a very feeble reply
could be made to the Japanese bombardment, which, fortunately for
Vladivostok, was not heavy, and damaged principally the Linevich fort.
Harbin is one of the coldest towns in Manchuria, and there the snow
lies deep for months. Port Arthur is 607 miles to the south by railway,
and in a different climate. The line crosses the Sungari for the second
time at Da-la-Chiao, about seventy miles from the great bridge at
Harbin. Tehling is forty miles north of Mukden; the Chinese town of
10,000 inhabitants is some miles from the railway station and Russian
settlement, for in almost every instance the line has been constructed
through unoccupied, but not uncultivated, country on the flat plain
west of the hill range. Fengtien province is densely populated, and
the flat land is carefully tilled by the industrious, thrifty Chinese.
There is little snow, and it lies but a short time on the plains,
where all through the winter the winds raise great clouds of dust from
the village roads thronged with carts hauling produce to the railway
stations and ports. The hills and the hill passes hold the snow, and a
winter campaign there would entail many hardships, but on the plain,
in the cold bracing air with a frozen surface giving a passable road
everywhere, fighting might be continued with fewer delays from climatic
changes than in the summer season with its frequent heavy rains.
The south and west gates of Mukden are only about two miles from
the railway station and barracks; the Imperial Tombs are between the
city and the line, although the latter now runs direct, the détour
originally constructed having been abandoned since 1901.
Mukden, 275 miles from Port Arthur, is a quadrangular city, about four
square miles in extent. The outer wall is of mud, the middle wall of
earth faced with brick, and fifty feet in height; the inner wall has
red gates and corresponds to the Forbidden City of Peking, being the
administrative and executive centre with the old Royal Palace, the
residence of the Tartar General and that of the Russian Commissary.
The town is more generally and more densely populated than is Peking
and its inhabitants must number nearly a million. There is, or was,
a Russian hotel and restaurant in the town, having four small and
very dirty, ill-furnished rooms for travellers. The Chinese inns
were better, and the _Green Dragon_ near the East Gate became the
headquarters of the newspaper correspondents. The mission stations
are near the Bund, on the Hun-khé river, and, as elsewhere in China,
are the finest residences in the town. The Russians never maintained
a large garrison within the town, but had sentries and guards at each
gate and at the Russian establishments, with Cossack and infantry
patrols of the streets. The gates were closed at sundown.
A few miles south of Mukden the railway crosses the Sakhé river; next
the colliery district of Yentai is reached, and, further south, the
station of Liaoyang. The capital of ancient Korea and one of the most
picturesque walled cities of North China, is a few versts east of the
railway. Haicheng, is a celebrated mission station further south.
Tashichiao, where a branch line leads to Newchwang, is 106 miles south
of Mukden, and 168 miles north of Port Arthur.
Kinchow is on the north-west of the narrow isthmus which connects the
Kwan-tung peninsula with the mainland. The line runs first near the
east, then along the western shore; from the train both shores could
be seen fringed with ice, in some places a band only a few hundred
yards in width, in others stretching out to sea apparently for miles.
Here and there were rugged hills, their tops white-crowned and the
higher reaches of the ravines blocked with ice and snow. These ravines,
widened and worn by flood waters, constitute deep, crooked gullies
traversing all the flat land between the hill sides, and the sea,
affording excellent shelter for infantry and rendering the use of
cavalry almost impossible.
At Nangalin the line branches, running eastward to Dalny, and winding
south, and westwards through intermittent cultivation, to the rocky
promontory on which Port Arthur lies. The line runs right through to
the water-front, opposite the Tiger’s Tail, and to the west of Signal
Hill, and east of the New Town. No station has yet been constructed;
temporary sheds afford some slight shelter for passengers and goods.
Such is the real terminus of the great Trans-Continental railway system.
All along the route the people most concerned in the political
disagreement between Russia and Japan were the trading classes. They
feared war, for war would interfere with commerce and might mean
financial ruin to them. They, almost to a man, expressed themselves as
opposed to the forward policy of Russia. The newer settlers professed
to have little fear of the industrial competition of the yellow races;
but the older settlers in eastern Siberia still cling to the earlier
policy, which had for its object the ousting of Chinese, Koreans and
Japanese from the territories more recently occupied by Russia. Few
could comprehend the Anglo-Japanese alliance, and all accepted it
as a purely political combination effected by England in order to
thwart the plans of Russia in the Far East, and consequently evidence
of the inborn hostility of the Briton to Russia. One merchant, an
ardent admirer of Leo Tolstoy’s teaching, asked me how it was that
the English people had such an inveterate hatred of Russians. I
explained to him that there was no ill feeling existent against the
Russian people, only against the policy of the Russian Government,
and therefore against the Russian soldiers, who were the tools used
in making the policy effectual. “Ah,” said he, “the soldiers? They
are a different people.” In Russia, more than in any country, there
is a detachment of the people from the army, and from the executive
government it represents. People were anxious to explain that they
disassociated themselves completely from everything the Government was
doing by its executive officials, the servants of the Crown.
The army officers believed war to be imminent; they knew of no way in
which it could be averted with honour to Russia. They thought a winter
campaign would be most advantageous to them, whilst declaring that a
spring campaign was more probable.
In Port Arthur every one expected war. If they knew it from no other
event, the crowd of newspaper war correspondents from England and
the United States must have indicated by their very presence in the
port that an appeal to arms was foreseen abroad. Withal, the Russians
pursued their fatuous policy, and even so late as the last week of
January dispatched from Port Arthur a regiment of Cossacks and two
regiments of infantry to the interior, thus strengthening the force
threatening Korea.
It was at this period that I went on board one of the finest
battleships in the harbour and conversed with one of the officers
of the fleet on the probability of war. In his opinion war would be
avoided; but after some argument, he admitted that war was possible.
“But we will not fight,” he added significantly. I was so astonished
at this remarkable assertion, that I asked him if he did not mean that
Russia would not make war. “I mean we, the navy, will not fight,” he
repeated. “Of course, as you say, the Japanese may make war; I may be
killed even, but we will not fight.” He spake calmly, even sadly, and
soon brought the conversation politely to a termination. As events
proved, the officer was right, and particularly right with regard to
that ship, which of all the fleet was probably poorest in defence, and
never once attacked.
The Russian military authorities knew that war threatened, and made
such preparations as they could in anticipation of an early outbreak
of hostilities. If men and stores in excess of usual movements had
been directed towards Manchuria, the act would have been construed
by the Japanese as indicating a hostile intent, and of itself would
have constituted a _casus belli_. To increase very materially the
military force at the disposal of the Viceroy would have incommoded him
seriously in dealing with the Japanese contentions. War could have been
diverted, or at least delayed, if Russia had promptly abandoned her
aggressive policy in the Far East, if only for a time. As it was the
“Forward” party had attempted too much on the slight military resources
at their disposal in Manchuria.
Opinions differ as to the number of troops east of Lake Baikal in
January last. From information I obtained, the Russians had increased
their force during the autumn of 1903 by about 50,000 men; they had in
Manchuria and eastern Siberia, in the month of January, about 200,000
men, which force was being increased by new arrivals to the average
number of 400 men every day. This force was distributed as follows:--
In Port Arthur 20,000
Outside Port Arthur: Inchentse, Nangalin, etc. 5,000
At Dalny and Talienwan 6,000
At Feng-Huang-Cheng 1,250
At Antung-Hsun 500
At or near Kaichiao, etc. 300
At Waffientien, Kinchow, Tashichiao, and Yingkow 1,000
On the Yalu River 5,000
At Haicheng 3,000
At and near Liaoyang 4,000
Along the Peking Road to the Yalu 8,000
At Mukden 600
At and near Tehling and vicinity of Mukden 3,000
At Kuan Chentse and Kirin 2,500
At Vladivostok 12,000
At Nikolskoe, Spasskaya, etc. 6,000
In Eastern Siberia, N.W. of Vladivostok 8,000
At Harbin 4,000
At Fu-li-ahdé 1,000
At Blagoveshchensk, Stretensk and Chita 8,000
Railway Guards 70,000
Reserves in camp 31,000
_En route_ 2,000
--------
Total force 202,150
The Railway Guards include the riflemen who accompanied each train;
the patrol for about 1,400 miles of railway line; the garrisons of
the block-houses at each tenth verst; and the details posted at every
railway station and siding. The number is probably understated. At the
commencement of the war the patrols were doubled and the number of
guards was increased.
Russian military opinion seemed to indicate that the garrisons in
Manchuria were sufficient for defensive purposes. The troops were being
advanced towards the Yalu, that is to say, the Korean frontier, and the
largest offensive force was being concentrated in Fengtien Province
along the old Peking highway from Liaoyang to the mountain passes on
the Manchurian side of the Yalu; thither munitions and stores were
being conveyed all through the winter, averaging in January about 700
tons a day.
The Russian authorities grossly underrated the strength of their enemy.
Not only the civilians, but the military and naval officers, were
confident that Russia would win, and win easily. The Russians had a
supreme contempt for the “yellow monkeys,” and only officers of the
highest rank regarded the coming conflict as anything more serious
than a “walk over” for Russia. Even in the Far East, the tone was
buoyant; people were in high spirits, they spake in glad tones of war,
business was brisk, and about everything there was the true ring of
self-confidence, come what might.
CHAPTER III
Life at Port Arthur
As every one knows, Port Arthur was named after H.R.H. the Duke of
Connaught. It consists of a small land-locked harbour, surrounded by
hills, and runs north and south, at the extremity of the Kwan-tung
Peninsula. It is entered from the east, between Golden Hill on the
north and Weiyuen Hill tapering to the sandspit on which is the Tiger’s
Tail fort to the south. Directly opposite the entrance is Signal Hill,
formerly known as Quail Hill, a comparatively low bluff which divides
the new from the old towns. On entering the harbour, to the right are,
first, the Admiralty depôts, dock-basin, and dockyard, sheltered from
the sea front east by the lofty Golden Hill and loftier Huang-chin,
with the heaviest batteries of the fortress; next, the Bund, or
water-front, and the commercial quarter; beyond, the old administrative
quarter adjoins Signal Hill. On the left is the Tiger’s Tail, behind
which are coal stores, and moorings for the torpedo-boat flotilla. The
deep water of the harbour is between Signal Hill and the Tiger’s Tail,
extending but a short distance to the south, the great sheet of water
in that direction being little more than a mud flat, which in winter is
covered with ice, and once had an outlet to the sea between Ching-tan
Fort and Liaotishan--an egress long since silted up with the débris
carried down from the hills by the mountain torrents during the spring
floods.
The New Town is situated south of Signal Hill, on a plateau rising
to the south and west. A magnificent city had been planned, a town
on a grand scale, with long avenues, broad streets and fine vistas.
A lofty and commodious Administration building had been erected, the
Viceroy’s Palace was building; there was a colossal hotel--finished
but never opened--a restaurant, hotel, theatre, various places of
public entertainment, some naval and military barracks, many villas,
and at least one large retail store. Not one-fifth of this town had
been constructed when the war began; hundreds of buildings were being
erected.
The Old Town lies behind the Bund, also on rising ground, on the north
of which was a great quarry, and north of that the old Chinese town,
the Chinese citadel, the market and the parade ground. On the east
side of this hill, behind the Admiralty docks, were the old cathedral
and the Viceroy’s Lodge; farther to the north-east lies the large
freshwater lake, the overflow from which runs through the Admiralty
docks into the harbour. On the west side of this hill there is another
stream, and the commercial quarter extended along its banks. The
new China town is on the north-east of Signal Hill, and the railway
terminus on the south.
Around the towns were hill forts; in some places north of the town
three lines of elaborately wrought defences. In the old town there was
a military road leading to the battery and the hill forts, which served
also to connect some of the barracks and stores lying north of the
Viceroy’s quarters. With the exception of this road and the Bund, the
old town did not possess any properly made thoroughfares. There was no
real street or good roadway anywhere in the town; the tracks, unless
frozen hard, which was unusual, were just troughs of mud through which
horses splashed, and jinrickshas were forced by two men. The soil dries
rapidly, there is generally a breeze, and dust clouds are common in
summer and winter.
Most of the buildings in the Old Town were mean--little better than
Chinese dwellings. The greater part of old China town had already
been demolished, and it was intended, as the Admiralty works were
extended, to absorb the site of the Old Town for government purposes.
When war commenced, the Old Town consisted of bungalows, hastily
built one-storied houses, go-downs, extemporized stores, and Chinese
buildings and houses.
The old towns were sombre, dirty and inconvenient. The houses
lacked style, the dwellings the ordinary conveniences of a modern
abode. Excepting the Viceregal Lodge and the Naval Club there were
no buildings possessing any pretensions to sumptuousness in their
decorations or furniture; it may be stated without exaggeration that
three-fourths of the houses were unfit to live in, and the remainder
were made habitable by the genius and unceasing vigilance of the
tenants.
The buildings, called hotels, available for travellers were as
primitive as Siberian inns. Nikobadze’s in the New Town consisted of
a series of half a dozen cottages, with small suites of rooms let
out to residents; in the Old Town of a couple of rows of cubicles in
a dingy Chinese house, which were also occupied by residents, but
occasionally a furnished room was to be had there. The hotel of the
town was Efimoff’s, a one-storied quadrangular building of about
twenty-four rooms, of which more than half looked into a courtyard,
filled with old packing-cases and miscellaneous effects. Each room
was about ten feet by eight; the furniture consisted of a truckle or
camp bedstead--no bedding--a small deal table covered with a dirty
cloth, and a chair of bent-wood. An old packing case on end, with the
lid hinged, formed the washstand; there was a small enamelled basin,
a jug of water occasionally, an old petroleum tin served the double
purpose of a slop-pail, and the ewer for fresh water. There was no
mirror, no picture, rarely an ikon in the sacred corner, and a few
wire nails knocked into the whitewashed wall constituted clothes-stand
and hat-pegs. The door fastened with a hasp and padlock outside. Upon
extra payment one might obtain the loan of a pillow, bed linen and
a dirty coverlet. If the occupant wanted anything, he went into the
corridor and shouted “Boika,” and in the fulness of time a Chinese
coolie, speaking pidgin Russian, would call upon the ‘number,’ and, for
an inducement, supply hot water, or a tumbler of weak and very greasy
tea. The rent was three roubles a day, and, in peace time even, it was
a combination of favour and luck which secured for the stranger this
inadequate accommodation. There were other houses, known as hotels,
‘numbers,’ and furnished rooms, which provided superior accommodation
at the same price, and there were houses which catered for travellers
and new-comers by granting lodging at extortionate prices, fixed by
the owners’ judgment of his guests’ ability to pay. Usually therefore
European tourists made a short stay at Port Arthur, and business men
most frequently resided in the private houses of their friends.
The chief restaurant was Nikobadze’s in the New Town, where excellent
meals were served at moderate prices, and the furniture, decorations,
and appointments were clean. At the restaurant in the Old Town there
was scanty accommodation, inferior cooking, and less appetizing food.
The commercial restaurant, much frequented by naval officers, was the
Saratov, on the Bund, rough, ready, thoroughly Russian and the only
establishment of its kind. There was no café; the only liquor shops
were used solely by the _nijni chin_--soldiers, sailors, and dock
hands--so but for private hospitality the stranger would have found
time drag heavily during the long hours between meals.
The places of amusement were more numerous, but not entertaining.
The circus, a permanent show, was the chief attraction. At the
Chinese theatre there were performances in Russian occasionally; the
music-halls, variety shows, tingle-tangles, and sailors’ grog shops
were always open. Bands played most evenings during the summer; in
winter there was an ice-rink, frequented chiefly by foreigners, and
Port Arthur through their enterprise had its race meeting also. As
there were few such societies as one finds in Siberian towns, life
at Port Arthur would have been insufferably dull but for the lavish
private entertainments by the inhabitants.
Russian residents, without exception, were very fond of Port Arthur,
and all Russians, and many foreigners, regard the place with affection.
It was symbolic of Russian expansion, of Russian dominion of the
Pacific. The navy revered it; it was their only ice-free port: the
soldiers were proud of it; as an impregnable fortress it appealed to
their sense of power--and the Russian army officer is always conscious
of the military might of the empire. Notwithstanding its violent
wind-storms, its bleakness, cheerlessness, its dusty streets, dingy
houses, and the rugged barren aspect of its hill-fortresses, Port
Arthur was endurable--many found a sojourn there agreeable. All classes
preferred Port Arthur to any other spot in Russian Asia.
The life there resembled that of Vladivostok, but had greater gaiety,
and more noise. A more equable climate permitted of the round of
social pleasures being continued more comfortably throughout the
four seasons. Life at Port Arthur combined the lavish hospitality,
generous toleration and practical _bon-homie_ of Russian custom with
the luxury, freedom, and pervading spirit of ease which characterize
the orient. It was not Russian life run to riot, as some imagine;
nor yet was it purely a combination of Russian and Chinese elements
acting and re-acting upon each other. There was a little that was
truly cosmopolitan about life in Port Arthur, and the asperities of
Russian autocratic rule were tempered by the indomitable insouciance
of the former residents in China treaty ports. There were many British
subjects and American citizens at Port Arthur, whose ideas of making
the best of this life were borrowed from the fashionable _monde_ of
Shanghai. They expected the conveniences of life; they wanted ease
and pleasure, and time in which to enjoy both. Shanghai is the wonder
of the world, and the admiration of every Russian who has travelled
the orient. Russians were ready to copy the methods of those who had
taken any part in building up or maintaining that great settlement of
the British on alien soil, and the Shanghailanders quickly adapted
themselves to the peculiarities of the Russian state metropolis,
and their influence was soon manifested. These privileged settlers
had a unique position, and enjoyed a certain social status pleasing
to themselves. So much depended upon the individual. For instance,
there was a half-caste, a British subject born in Shanghai, merely
a book-keeper in a trading firm, but he kept his race ponies, got
into the best social set, and was invited by the Viceroy to ordinary
receptions and functions at the Government House. His principals were
not; they never could understand why he should be preferred over them.
It was merely because he knew better than they did how to ingratiate
himself with Russian officials, and Russians are as dead as are the
British to racial distinctions. A full-blooded negro, a Chinaman,
or any other non-Caucasian would be welcomed as an equal in social
intercourse so long as he possessed the instincts of a gentleman and
behaved as became a guest in the company with which he mixed. The
wonderfully select Naval Club, the rendezvous of the élite, had a Jew
book-keeper amongst its members.
So the foreigners were making themselves felt, and were esteemed,
not only for their personal worth, but because of the luxuries, the
notions, and the manner of life they introduced.
The government of Port Arthur was such as told in their favour, for
it was a too much governed place, with a somewhat lax executive.
First, stood H. E. the Viceroy, personal representative of the Tsar,
a privileged person, possessing almost autocratic power, but never
accused of being a despot. An admiral, he thought first of the
port, and was anxious to foster its interests, and zealous for its
aggrandisement. He wanted a larger harbour, more docks, a better
equipped naval station. These views naturally commended themselves
to the commercial residents, each of whom benefited by the increased
expenditure of government money in and about the town. Then there
was the Port Admiral, an energetic and capable seconder of the
Viceroy’s views. The Admiral of the Fleet was in a position of power
and authority, so was the Commandant, and the Mayor, and the Chief of
Police. A Russian subject, a direct employé of the government, might
or might not be punished for an infraction of any rule or bye-law--it
would depend largely upon his personal value in the position he filled.
The commercial employé was in a better position. If a foreigner,
although he had no consul to look to for protection, his employer
would stand good for him in just so far as he was valuable to him, and
the difficulty there would be experienced in obtaining some one else
to do his work. The commercial man, whether contractor, caterer, or
purveyor, might be, and generally was, of particular use to some one
in one or other of the government departments. If the Police, or the
Commandant, thought the town would be better for his absence, some
port authority, perhaps, found him indispensable; and just as he was
indispensable to the authorities, so were his employés indispensable to
him. The entertainers and others trying to amuse the public had usually
some influential friend who was ready to exert himself to protect them
and their interests. Thus the police were always slow to take the
initiative in any proceedings against a foreigner, and each authority
was just as slow to instruct the police. There resulted a freedom and
immunity from molestation probably unequalled in any Russian fortress.
With the personal appearance of Admiral Alexeiev the world is now
familiar, and most people know a great deal concerning his character.
He upheld the dignity of his position as Viceroy very successfully; to
strangers he was invariably courteous, affable, and easy of approach.
As an administrator he was not without faults, many traceable to his
inordinate appreciation of the Russian navy and his determination to
use that navy as the main factor in his policy of Russian expansion in
the Far East. Years had steadied his impulsive temperament, but to the
last he was subject to periodical fits of furious strenuosity, and at
these times work in Port Arthur went ahead rapidly, only to slacken or
stop as soon as the energy of the controller lessened, or his vigilance
ceased. The Viceroy was popular with naval officers and the townsmen.
The military officials did not appreciate his work, and often found
it very difficult to work under him pleasantly. General Subotich, who
succeeded General Grodekov as Governor-General of the Pri-Amurski
Region, resigned immediately Admiral Alexeiev was appointed Viceroy.
Incompatibility of methods was the real reason of this, but not every
official had the courage of General Subotich, a man whose usefulness
has been proved in Kouropatkin’s campaign.
Possibly the chief of the military forces at Port Arthur was worst
placed with regard to the civilian population, for from the first there
has been friction between the naval and military authorities. General
Stoessel was generally disliked; he regarded Port Arthur as a fortress
simply, not as a naval station even, and the civil and commercial
circles were abhorrent to him. One day a half-caste, of quite different
origin to the one already mentioned, had ridden down to the beach for
a change of air and scene, when the General came up and wished to
know what he was doing there. He answered that he came to look at the
sea--for which he understood there was no charge made. The General said
he was too near the forts, and the man retorted, that if the General
wanted the whole place to himself he was welcome to it; then, to annoy
the General still more, he called to the soldier who was leading his
horse to and fro, “Fellow, bring me my horse!” Nothing irritated the
General more than to have one of his soldiers ordered about by a
civilian, and to hear him addressed as “fellow,” just as though he were
a mujik, was still more galling. The General did nothing; he did not
know whether the man belonged to the staff of a contractor, or perhaps
to the Russo-Chinese Bank, and at any rate he must have been well
protected to dare to be so impudent. The General changed all that when
war broke out; he became a despot.
Once he struck an unsuspecting civilian across the face with his riding
whip because the man had failed to recognize and salute him as he was
riding through the town. Nor can it be said that General Stoessel was
loved by his officers or their men. All dreaded him. Soldiers, seeing
him approach, would turn up side streets, hide away behind go-downs,
get anywhere out of his way. He careered through the town like a
whirlwind, shouting, commanding, blustering. The sentries shook as he
neared them. He would ask a soldier who he was, where he came from,
when he joined the regiment, and if he saw nothing to complain of in
the man’s appearance would command him to take off his boots there and
then, so that he might inspect his foot-rags: if these were correct,
as likely as not he would ask to see the extra pairs in the man’s
kit--rarely indeed did a soldier so examined escape the interviewer
without a punishment or a reprimand. It was said by many Russians that
if war should come General Stoessel would be shot from behind by some
of his own soldiers--so widely and so thoroughly was he hated. A strict
disciplinarian, he regarded his men as so many fighting units whose
duty it was in peace time to keep themselves in fighting trim; and in
order that they might be found so when he should require them he did
his best to keep them sufficiently fed, properly clothed, and in good
health.
The conditions ruling in the port made his task hard, but he kept
pounding away at rank and file. A man of excellent physique, fine
courage and exuberant spirits himself, he thought every soldier ought
to be as able and ready as he was himself to labour incessantly.
In ordinary times life at Port Arthur was different in degree, but not
in kind, from that of the majority of garrison towns. Many exaggerated
accounts have been circulated respecting the vices of its inhabitants,
and the port has been represented as the modern equivalent of the
cities of the plain, whereas of crime there was less than the average
in other Russian ports, and the percentage of vicious and undesirable
citizens not higher than at Vladivostok, or some other Pacific ports.
Fast living and outrageous rowdyism were more noticeable, because
confined to a small area. The garrison numbered about 20,000; add to
this 5,000 for the onshore men of the fleet and the male civilians, and
it will be apparent that females must have been comparatively few, and
so were shown particular, even absurd attention. There was hardly a
singer at a music-hall but received extravagant praise and had numerous
admirers; a tight-rope dancer was equally certain of applause; and
the officers, as all men of a class congregating together are prone
to do, not infrequently were carried away by their enthusiasm and
acted boisterously and foolishly. They were lavish with their money,
particularly when amongst a gang of their equals in rank, and delighted
in monopolizing attention, ‘closing the house,’ having a repetition
of the performance for their own delectation, and in every way making
themselves conspicuous by extravagant behaviour in public. All
officers, whether on or off duty, wear their uniforms, therefore are
constantly in evidence at music-halls, rollicking along the streets, or
arguing when intoxicated before the public in a restaurant--glorying in
doing the very obtrusive acts every British and American officer would
be most careful to avoid when in uniform.
The ladies of Port Arthur were neither numerous nor much in evidence.
The first woman to arrive at the port was the wife of the postmaster,
and every Russian in the fortress went to the shore to greet her. The
practice was kept up for a long time, but there were comparatively
few present when the postmaster’s wife slipped away after the war had
begun, for she was one of the first to leave. The first woman who died
in Port Arthur, after the Russian occupation, was a Scotch adventuress
named Dolly Andersen, who was cruelly done to death in the house of
some Jews amongst whom she had fallen, long before any semblance
of civil authority had been established. The women most conspicuous
latterly were the large troupes of chorus girls brought in for the
vaudeville halls, and these artistes were for the most part Jewesses
from eastern Europe. No doubt the majority of the officials of all the
services saw everything there was to be seen in the _starai gorod_ and
China Town too, but only a minority made a habit of riotous living. In
Port Arthur, as elsewhere, the majority ordinarily went through their
daily duties in humdrum fashion and occupied their leisure in following
a simple hobby, visiting their friends, and waiting for the morrow.
Very few took keen interest in their work; the really busy people were
the commercial men, Russians, Jews, foreigners and Chinese--these men
had no time to spare from the soul-engrossing game of money-making.
To me the officers and men of both services seemed decidedly apathetic,
considering that almost everybody believed that war was probable, if
not imminent, and that for weeks past Port Arthur had been visited
continuously by special war correspondents from every country.
The Russians were insensible to the danger, but not because of their
own preparedness to meet attack, for it cannot be said of them that
they so conducted themselves in times of peace as to be ready for war
if it came unexpectedly. On the contrary, they danced under the sword
of Damocles, and set it swinging by sawing at the delicate thread by
which it was suspended. And they are the more blameworthy inasmuch as
Russia placed in their hands a trust they betrayed, unwittingly it is
true, by their fatuous neglect. The handwriting was upon the wall,
but they heeded it not, and, like their neighbours the Chinese, who
threw up millions of hummocks to impress the foreign invaders with the
vastness of their number and consequent invincibility, they relied upon
the advertised strength and impregnability of their great fortress
to ward off attack and secure for themselves immunity from danger.
The authorities really believed that even if Japan did make war upon
Russia, the great stronghold of Port Arthur would be one of the last
places they would attempt to assault.
It would have been well for Russia had the authorities at Port Arthur
inculcated the counsel given long ago by General Nogi, the man who
was to carry the Sun-flag into their very midst. In that general’s
opinion “the brilliant and faithful performances of a soldier on the
battlefield are nothing but the blossoms and fruit of the work and
training performed day by day in times of peace. The man whose life is
in disorder during the days of peace would have a difficult task if he
attempted to perform successfully and correctly the duties of a true
soldier in the tumult of the battlefield.”
Russia is represented conventionally in pictorial art as a bear, but
the figure of an ostrich would be more appropriate, for, like Russia,
that has wings but cannot soar, only run, and like the ostrich Russia
thinks by hiding danger from its sight it thereby secures safety.
By the end of the first week in February 1904 the relations between
Russia and Japan were so strained that the official representatives of
both countries left their posts. An act so indicative of danger as this
has always been held to be, ought to have been received in Port Arthur
either with gladness or with consternation. It was accepted by the
officials with indifference: the public knew nothing until the Japanese
came. Elsewhere such news would of itself be sufficient to cancel all
private engagements made by members of the fighting services, but at
Port Arthur so slight a matter would not warrant even the postponement
of a social function. Monday, February 7, was the name-day of the Port
Admiral’s wife and daughter. The invitations were out, the reception
was given. Officers of all grades flocked to the residence from the
forts and the ships. Those who had to make but a duty call, for the
most part concluded the day by visiting some place of amusement. More
intimate friends stayed to the reception. The social life of the port
continued without a moment’s intermission. Midnight came, and shortly
after midnight the foe attacked.
Even then Port Arthur was slow to exert itself. It did not realize
the danger that threatened. Some naval officers on shore said, and
believed, that the firing in the roadstead was because of ‘naval
manœuvres.’ Harbour, forts and town, for an hour or more, were
absolutely at the mercy of the enemy, but the enemy did not know.
The Russians had ignored sign after sign: the withdrawal of Ministers,
the flight of the Japanese, the presence of the Japanese consul
directing their embarkation, even the firing of their own guns against
the invading enemy seemed insufficient to notify some officers that a
state of war existed. _That_ was just what could not be believed.
The foreign residents knew. At the sound of the first shot one woman
jumped into a two-horse carriage and drove from the New Town right down
to the beach, a distance of four miles, to make sure that the war she
had been so long expecting had at last really commenced.
CHAPTER IV
War
Just before sundown on Saturday, February 5, I entered Mukden by the
south gate, in a covered Peking cart drawn by three tired mules. That
day I had travelled over forty miles across country, arriving by way
of Ma-tsian-tsia, and it was my intention to remain in the city over
Sunday and continue my journey towards Kirin as early in the week as
circumstances allowed. I put up at the Russian guest-house--a dreary,
dirty building. That same evening, tired though I was by the constant
jolting of the springless vehicles in which I had been lying, sitting,
squatting and tumbling--mostly tumbling--for fourteen consecutive
hours, I started out to make inquiries as to the Russian troops
quartered there and their exact location. I learned also that Mr.
Bennet Burleigh and other war correspondents had been in the town very
recently.
I noticed that the Sikh watchmen--and there were many of them in
Mukden--invariably saluted me, although they never acknowledged any of
the Russian civilians. As I was wearing Russian clothes, from fur cap
to high boots and overshoes, and had on me enough Russian leather to
proclaim my presence for half a _li_ around, the Englishman must have
been sticking out of me very prominently somewhere, or the Sikhs have a
special faculty for recognizing people of the only race for which they
have any regard.
That same evening the news of the departure of the Russian and Japanese
Ministers had been sent to Manchuria, but no one in Mukden knew of it.
The only news current of the world’s affairs was derived from Harbin
and Port Arthur journals, neither of them well informed and both two
days old by the time they reached Mukden.
The next morning I was astir early. I went through and round the
town, interviewed British, American and foreign missionaries, all
of whom, though they thought war probable, did not believe it to be
imminent. Some had been warned by their consuls to send the women and
children into China, and to be prepared for an outbreak of hostilities
themselves. The news promulgated from the Russo-Chinese Bank was of a
reassuring character: war, if war there should be, was still apparently
for future months.
In the afternoon I visited the Russian settlement and the railway
station, and saw the south-bound train pass through. On board there
was a Japanese tradesman with his wife and family. That was the only
disquieting indication I observed. Less than a fortnight before, when
in Port Arthur, I recognized that the Japanese merchants were selling
off their stocks at reduced prices and leaving the port--but there
seemed no immediate hurry. This fresh evidence of the continuous
withdrawal of the trading Japanese from Manchuria aroused my
suspicions, and caused me to doubt whether it were wise just then to
travel into the wilds of north-eastern Manchuria, where I should be cut
off from all news for days and possibly weeks together, and leave Port
Arthur uncovered, for I knew that no other _Times_ correspondent was
likely to be there for some time.
The evening I spent with one of the European staff of Messrs. Bush
Brothers, of Newchwang, who was in Mukden on business, and would leave
on the morrow. We had the usual Chinese dinner of chopped chicken and
rice, sharks’ fins, sea-snails, giblets, frogs’ chitterlings, bean
sprouts, sugar cane and monkey nuts. We talked of the probability
of war, and of the Chinese of Fengtien province, who--according to
my informant, and he of all men was most likely to know--showed no
apprehension of war commencing at an early date, and were concerned
chiefly with local happenings, such as Hunghus raids and highway
robberies, the usual concomitants of commerce in that neighbourhood.
He said nothing to alarm me, but before I reached my inn I had resolved
to start on the morrow for Port Arthur instead of going in the directly
opposite direction towards Kirin, as I had been ordered to do.
Next morning I sought everywhere for evidence which would be enough to
convince any one that I was warranted in adopting the course I intended
to pursue, but I found nothing. On Monday no news of a disquieting
nature reached Mukden; there were no indications that the usual course
of things would not continue always. The little world of Mukden, with
its swarming population, its Russian Commissary and executive, its
Tartar General and Russian garrison, was totally absorbed with its
local affairs. There was no moving of troops, no indication of change.
I took the post-train south. On board were a missionary and his family
returning to England at the end of his term; another missionary and his
wife from the south on a social visit to Newchwang; the usual Russian
officers and Russian immigrants; the wives and children of Russian
officers stationed at Port Arthur, going thither to take up their
residence; a sprinkling of adventurers; some local European and Chinese
travellers, and two Japanese families on their way back to their own
country. The passengers were such as one expected to meet, the same
classes as had been represented on every post-train south for weeks
past, and the train, like all trains in Manchuria, was crowded. Some
were bound for Newchwang, more for Dalny, but most, as myself, were
going through to Port Arthur.
About midnight all the British travellers but myself left the train
at Tashichiao. The train rolled on slowly through the darkness; the
Cossacks patrolled the line, the riflemen guards played cards; the
soldiers and gendarmes at the small stations talked with the conductors
and brakesmen; the passengers slept. War had already begun at Port
Arthur, but none of us knew.
I was early astir, and at the first stop got off to take tea. The train
was late--we had lost hours during the night. The day broke cold and
clear. There was a brisk, biting wind, which now and again drove clouds
of dust before it. First to the right, then to the left, then to the
right again, the blue sea could be seen beyond the white fringe of ice
which clung about the coast.
The train was late and I sought the cause. It was of little use asking
an official, for Russian officials invariably say they know nothing,
and as often as not they are right. There is a somewhat true story
told of me in Manchuria, to the effect that one morning when I was
standing on a railway platform, a traveller asked the station-master
if that day there was an express train to Harbin, and he replied in
the negative. Whereupon I interrupted, “Excuse me, but there is, and
here it comes.” Then the express drew up at the station. As a matter
of fact, as soon as I got into Manchuria, I secured a station-master’s
time-table of _all_ the trains running over the Eastern Chinese
Railway. This gave the days and the time of all arrivals and
departures; showed, not only the passenger service, but the connexions
of military, freight and construction trains. It was easily understood
by any one who could use a _Bradshaw_. From an American passenger who
had come from Newchwang and joined the train at Tashichiao, I learned
how much we were behind time there; from the brakesman I ascertained
that there had not been a breakdown; there was nothing so severe in the
weather that the train could have been delayed through its inclemency,
consequently a freight train out of Port Arthur was the most probable
cause of our slow running.
Of course, the freight train might have been delayed by one of hundreds
of causes other than war, but it was of war, and war alone, that I
was apprehensive. The American, who but on Monday evening had left
Newchwang, where telegraphic news is received without intermission,
informed me that there was no change in the political situation, but
that he was sure there would not be war, because the Japanese were not
ready, and the Russians did not want more trouble--there would be peace
for years.
At the next station my suspicions were increased, for on the door of
the booking office was a written notice stating that telegrams could
not be accepted for transmission. The reason for this order was not
stated. If it were due to the cutting of the wires by the enemy, war
was meant--but it was improbable that the wires would have been cut
both north and south of that station, and the same reason applied if
there had been an accidental breakdown on the lines of communication.
Moreover, the trains were running, and they are run on a telegraphic
check system, so this proved that the wires were intact. It was clearly
only a peremptory discontinuance of a public service, and due either to
war, or to some calamity or occurrence which had necessitated the use
of the public, the railway and the government wires for State messages.
I felt as certain that a state of war existed as I should have done
had I heard the rifle bullets whizzing over my head and the booming of
distant artillery.
The irony of the position was that although I was confident hostilities
had commenced, I was precluded by the very order which had given me the
news from sending out any information by telegram, and there was no
train north until our own returned from Port Arthur.
My theory was confirmed soon afterwards by seeing a Russian military
officer receive a telegram at the railway station. At Nangalin junction
I should have to change trains, and, pre-supposing that a state of war
already existed in the fortress of Port Arthur, it was unlikely that
I should be allowed to continue my journey there if recognized as a
foreigner, so I kept as much as possible to my compartment. But I need
not have had any fear on that point. The news itself so astonished
the officials, both railway and military, that they failed to act,
and merely performed their routine work in a perfunctory manner.
They neither thought nor realized in what way the outbreak of war
affected the train and its passengers. Without definite instructions
from some high authority, they would not act in any way different to
their ordinary mode. No one took notice of anybody; women with babies,
children, Japanese, were neither informed that war had begun, nor
warned to remain outside the sphere of military operations, and all,
at their ease and unsuspecting, ran right into the fortress during the
bombardment.
My first verbal confirmation of the news I received from one of the
Riflemen. Our carriage, like those of all the through trains on the
Eastern Chinese Railway was constructed of armour-plate, and the
internal fittings were so arranged that at short notice they could
be differently fixed in order to convert the train into practically a
covered and protected moving rifle-trench. The officer who had received
the telegram was closeted with four others in one of the compartments,
and suddenly came out, stared at the two Japanese at the other end of
the corridor, shook his clenched fist at them, then went in, grasped
hands with his brother officers, all talking very rapidly and together.
A Rifleman came, hoping to borrow a light for his cigarette, but they
had retired and drawn the door close. I tendered him a box of matches
and asked him if there was any news. He informed me _sotto voce_ that
his captain had received a telegram to the effect that the Japanese had
attacked the Russian fleet that morning, that three ships were struck
by torpedoes and that one was already sunk. More he did not know.
Outside patches of snow covered the red-brown hills, and ice clung
to the rugged sides of the gullies through which tiny streams still
trickled. Slowly, very slowly, the train rolled into the station at
Inchentze, and there waited long, but no one alighted, no one spoke
of war, none who knew of it wished to turn back. Then the train
started, crawling along the few versts of valley to the port, and
everywhere watched--but without particular interest--by the Cossack
sentries patrolling the track. At last the outskirts of the town came
into view, to disappear again behind Signal Hill, and the passengers
commenced to get their packages together as the train wound its way to
the terminus on the harbour brink.
As we bustled about the corridor, reaching down bundles, and passing
along bags to their owners, I overheard part of the conversation of the
army officers: “It is war now;” “I’m glad of it;” “_Da_, I also,--we
shall show them;” “They will be sorry;” “Certainly--they must be mad.”
It was indeed a relief from the uncertainty that had prevailed for
months. There was now a clear course open; no doubt as to the issue.
But it was only a brief respite, the uncertainty of peace was soon
succeeded by the more dreadful and paralyzing uncertainty as to which
side would emerge victors after the conflict.
At the terminus a deathly stillness reigned in place of the usual
clamour and turmoil which accompanied the arrival of the post-train.
Slowly, more slowly than customary if that be possible, the train
rolled to its point. The place was deserted. Not an official was to be
seen. There were no carriages in waiting, no jinrickshas, not a porter,
a gendarme, a policeman--not even a coolie! Far, far away behind, up at
the cross-points, a solitary soldier stood sentinel with bayonet fixed,
hugging himself in his great-coat and turning his back to the cold
wind.
I hauled my baggage on to the platform. The American was the only
passenger who followed me, the others stood huddled in the vestibules
not knowing what to do, scarcely daring to move, and the army officers
called half-heartedly for assistance. I went into the empty shelter,
and crossed to the deserted station-buildings and buffet. Not a
man, woman or child could I see. Then I went into the quarry, where
a station site is being excavated, and from a cleft drew a Chinese
_gamin_ of the coolie class; making him shoulder my bags and walk
before me, I wended my way into the town.
I have no recollection of passing or meeting any one _en route_. The
road was deserted, so too were the quays, the steps to the railway
buildings and the terraces on the cliffs. As we proceeded I heard the
booming of guns and bursting of shells.
In the harbour some of the warships were snugly moored, a number of
torpedo-boat destroyers lay alongside the wharves on the Tiger’s
Tail. In the entrance to the harbour I saw the _Retvizan_, nose down
and heeling over; the _Tesarevich_, with tugs and launches fussing
round her, all down by the stern and with a heavy list to starboard,
another vessel lay farther out in the narrows, and right away at sea,
just discernible as specks near the horizon were the warships of the
enemy’s fleet bombarding Port Arthur. The many _sampans_ and other
small craft which ordinarily plied from shore to shore were absent and
the port seemed almost as lifeless as the town.
The busy wharves under the terraces were deserted but for the Sikhs
watching the immense stores of _vodka_ and other provisions. The
Field Telegraph Office on the Bund was wrecked and the Bund looked
as lonesome as other parts of the town, the only human creatures in
evidence being the Sikhs before Ginsburg’s offices and the premises
of the Russo-Chinese bank. I turned up the Pushkinskaya, passing the
unoccupied premises of the _Novy Krai_, and it was not until I reached
the post office that the first group of people appeared--they stood
talking nervously, and looking first one way and then the other, as
though shells might take the direction of vehicular traffic along the
streets. Of carriages, jinrickshas, carts, Chinese, and troops I saw no
sign whatever.
Turning into Efimoff’s I found everything in confusion. Neither
proprietor nor manager was to be found; the cook had disappeared,
the two Chinese boys remaining were too scared to answer a question.
Ascertaining myself from the register that the inn was full, I went
along the Artilleriskaya to Nikobadze’s, where the confusion was
even worse than at the other inn. Leaving the boy to take care of my
baggage, I went farther into the town in search of quarters. Everywhere
the people were hurrying--for the most part in directions away from the
harbour and town. In the Strielkova I had noticed an inn which had been
newly painted, so presumably was less dirty than any of the many second
and third rate hostels in the old town. It was closed, and I knocked
loudly and long before any one opened. I learned at length that there
was a room vacant, and that the house belonged to a soldier, a young
non-commissioned officer in an infantry regiment. Having established
myself and belongings there I went out to see what was happening, and
to find out how I could get messages out of the town, now that the
telegraph was closed to us.
Arriving at the Bund I saw some of the havoc already wrought by the
bursting shells. Goods had been hurled hither and thither by the force
of the explosions; the double glass windows of the buildings along the
water-front had scarcely a whole pane remaining. On the Bund near the
water-edge a shell had burrowed a hole large enough to hold an omnibus
and team, the gravel and earth had been scattered everywhere and mixed
with a heap of coal dust being discharged from lighters. Walls were
down here, the plastering from house sides there, and in the garden of
a house built on a terrace cut into the hill side a spent 13-inch live
shell had dropped and was now guarded by a sentry. The shells had all
been directed from the maximum range at the ships in the harbour. Some
had struck the parapet below Golden Hill fort, but most had dropped in
or near the harbour. The maximum lateral deviation--that is from north
to south--was less than fifty yards, and the elevation was good. It was
in fact excellent shooting considering that the range was never less
than eight, and sometimes over twelve miles. Very few shells failed
to explode, some fell innocuously in the deep water of the harbour.
Two of the last fired burst right amongst the merchant shipping and
caused great consternation, and some slight injuries to those on board
the steamers at anchor. The bombardment which commenced about an hour
before noon, lasted scarcely two hours, and was slack after mid-day.
In this bombardment the townspeople, but not the naval authorities,
were taken by surprise. About 8 a.m. the enemy’s squadron was sighted
to the south-east of Liaotishan, and reported. Vice-Admiral Stark’s
flag-ship, the _Petropavlovsk_, the _Poltava_, the _Sevastopol_, and
the _Peresviet_, the flag-ship of Rear-Admiral Prince Ukhtomsky, with a
number of cruisers, were under steam. The cruiser _Boyarin_ went out
to scout, and at about 10.30 a.m. returned to report having sighted the
enemy approaching, and shortly afterwards a fleet of twelve sail were
descried on the horizon. A few minutes later the enemy opened fire from
12- and 13-inch guns. The Russian fleet thereupon formed into parallel
lines, the cruiser _Askold_ leading one south towards Liaotishan and
the _Boyarin_, the other north towards the Lutin point.
I cannot state that the glimpse I had of the naval battle impressed me
deeply. As a matter of fact it did not come up to my expectations, and
in appearance was less effective and less theatrical than some naval
manœuvres I have seen. Upon the vessels engaged it must have been much
more exciting, particularly to those on ships which were made the aim
of the enemy’s fire. I doubt very much whether the conditions on board
a battleship are either so terrible, or so dangerous, as imaginative
writers have pictured them. A modern warship, anything of a class
superior to a small cruiser, is not to be sunk by a single shot, and
though she may sink as the result of a torpedo attack, yet she will
not sink immediately. If the shell fire is very hot, then indeed some
alarm may be felt, but there are so many places of comparative safety
on board an armoured vessel, and the result of one bursting shell is
so local in its effect, that not only can the majority of the crew be
kept unharmed through a long fight, but a well fought ship will last
long after she has been struck before she is put out of action by the
aggregation of damages sustained. In one instance only during the war
has a shell struck a vulnerable part; that was when a shell entered
between the sides and the cover of a conning tower. The Russian forts
opened fire on the enemy’s fleet, the chief part being taken by the
Golden Hill fort, and by the Electric battery on the crag below it. The
firing was from 10-inch guns, and fell short, and was watched by the
Viceroy from Golden Hill.
The fleets approached each other, the distance varying from six to as
close as three miles, and the Japanese in turning again to the south
were engaged by the cruisers _Askold_, _Novik_ and _Diana_, who, it was
stated, inflicted some injury on the enemy and themselves sustained
some slight damage. The Japanese, having made a reconnaissance in
force, to ascertain the result of the torpedo-boat attack which had
been made in the darkness, again headed south and disappeared behind
the Liaotishan peninsula.
The Russian official account of the losses was: on the fleet--Killed,
21 men; wounded, 4 officers, 97 men; on the forts--killed, 1 man; 1
man severely and 3 men slightly wounded. The losses from the torpedo
attack were announced as: killed, 2; drowned, 5; wounded, 8--in all
only 142 casualties for three engagements.
The immediate effect of the firing upon the town was general
consternation. At first, when the enemy was approaching and their fire
was directed upon the ships outside, some of the inhabitants went up
on to Signal Hill to have a better view of the latter. A party of
ladies and gentlemen gathered on the terrace before the Mayor’s house
for the same purpose. A shell fell immediately below that terrace and
scattered the party. One little company of foreigners on Signal Hill
was also dispersed by a shell which burst within a quarter of a mile
of them. Two Americans made for the nearest hollow, where one, to use
his phrase, “was sick to death;” a third ran, and ran, until, hatless
and breathless, he was stopped by a sentry miles from the water-front
and taken to the guard house and detained, until some of his friends
promised to take care of him.
Doubtless the first effect of shell fire upon a civilian population is
terrorizing in the extreme, and especially is this the case when it
is unexpected. Imagine yourself looking at a fire-work display from
the terrace of the Crystal Palace; you hear, as it were, the _shhh!_
of an enormous rocket; there is a blaze of light, a bang, a clatter,
a deafening noise such as would be caused by the instant and entire
collapse of the immense iron and glass buildings behind you. For a
moment you are dazed; then you feel that as if by a miracle you had
escaped instant annihilation; you hear a roar as of a near clap of
thunder, see a slight cloud of yellowish smoke, and are sufficiently
recovered to know that a shell has burst, and able to look for the
effects of the explosion.
Individual experiences vary greatly. Personally I was merely excited by
the first series of bursting shells, but then I was elated at finding
myself in the midst of the fighting instead of being jolted in a Peking
cart over desolate country in North Manchuria, where easily I might
have been. As each successive shell burst I felt more and more glad; I
grew bigger and bigger, and walked on air. As for the danger and the
risk--no thought of either even occurred to me. I was seeing a fight,
seeing as much of it as I could, and wanting badly to see more. I think
I would willingly have changed a pair of legs for an extra pair of
eyes just then. That feeling of general elation was long in passing,
it lasted hours after the last shell had been fired; it never recurred
with the same intensity. Subsequently the roar of cannon, the noise and
nearness of approaching battle failed to rouse me--the din became a
nuisance, especially when it disturbed my slumber, and the trouble of
hunting for views of the fighting even grew irksome.
On the whole I think the few English people in Port Arthur were less
visibly excited by the bombardment than were the people of other
nationalities. The Americans were less phlegmatic; some were just
bundles of nerves, others as ready to go off as a handful of fireworks.
I remember one, the manager of a large business, coming into the office
with a rush, his tie flying, his hat half-off and his hands wildly
waving, “Boys, I’m off! I shan’t stand for this! Take my sticks, divide
them as you like. I’m going!”--and he went, that was the last the
office and staff saw of their manager.
Whilst the firing was on men ran anywhere for shelter. The business
centre of the town was quite forsaken, and it was not until hours
later that people congregated in small groups to recount their own
experiences, compare impressions, and discuss plans. That same evening
saw the first rush for the railway station, and crowding to the
passenger steamers in the harbour. The hurried exodus of all classes
continued without intermission for days.
Loss of life and limb was not much in evidence. A few civilians were
taken to the hospital in carriages; more were seen with bleeding faces
resulting from broken glass and scoriation from the earth scattered
by the shells which struck the Bund and the rocks. It was late in the
afternoon before the lines of stretcher bearers made their appearance
conveying the wounded from the port to the lazaret, and that night
the harbour, forts, and town were in total darkness. Not the glimmer
of a light through the shutters was permitted, not the smallest,
dullest lantern in the streets. That night there was no performance
at the circus, no public at the music-halls, and no house parties for
pleasure. Even the Saratoff closed before the usual hour for supper.
Port Arthur had then been frightened into realizing the seriousness of
war.
CHAPTER V
Hiding in Port Arthur
The morning after the first bombardment was a rough snowstorm and
blizzard. It was impossible in the forenoon to distinguish any living
form across a narrow street, and useless to attempt to inspect the
harbour. The wind blew in from the sea, and when the storm had
moderated a little and the snow fell thickly in large flakes it was
ideal weather for a torpedo attack. Relying upon fictitious advice
Japanese friends had given me that their forces would follow up every
attack with another quickly, and take Port Arthur--town, forts and
harbour--within a fortnight, I wandered round the shore looking eagerly
for, and expecting momentarily, the torpedo attack which was never
attempted. It was during these hours of watching that I met the British
officer--also peering seaward for some sign of an invading squadron.
On a subsequent occasion, when we also met by accident, being on
the same quest, we went together round the town and as far as
possible made the circle of the inner line of fortifications. In this
peregrination I asked him to choose for me the safest quarter in which
to reside during future bombardments, and he pointed out a somewhat
thickly populated district immediately behind the town gravel pits, to
the north of the Bund. Later I secured a room in a Chinese house in
that vicinity. It opened on to the Poyarova, and had on the opposite
side an exit still nearer the shelter of the quarry. About the same
time also, I was offered the use of rooms in the flat of a foreigner,
who had left them in order to be nearer his work.
The torpedo attack and the subsequent bombardment had astonished the
Russians; the only word which expresses adequately the condition of the
authorities is “flabbergasted,” for they were rendered defenceless by
their unlimited bewilderment. A few well-armed, daring troops landed
immediately after the torpedo attack, or simultaneously, would have
captured the town, the staff and the heads of the naval and military
departments, and might have carried at least one of the forts. At any
time within the first week the Russians would have been surprised
by an attack, and probably would have succumbed to a vigorous and
well-organized offensive movement. At every hour we two were expecting
to hear the rattle of rifle fire from the direction of Pigeon Bay, and
as the days went by could scarcely credit that no invasion had even
been attempted.
At first everything in Port Arthur was in hopeless confusion. The
defence of the place had to be organized, and even a special staff got
together for the direction of the general plan. The naval and military
authorities did not work together harmoniously, and General Stoessel,
who in a sense was outside both factions, did not succeed in getting
the unlimited authority the duties of his position necessitated until
after the Viceroy had departed north accompanied by the staff. The town
was in a state of chaotic confusion. All the Chinese servants left; the
Chinese tradesmen and coolies tried to leave. The trains were closed to
them, but the ships in the harbour gave them room and were overcrowded.
Sampan men asked and obtained from five to fifteen dollars for ferrying
a passenger from the wharf to the ship--a service for which as many
cents was ample reward ordinarily. The public carriage drivers were
equally extortionate, and demanded fifteen dollars for a journey
between the old and the new town; the jinricksha men disappeared,
their vehicles too, and the melting snow and deep mud made the roads
impassable.
Leading merchants and the heads of firms had sudden important business
calls to visit Newchang or Harbin, and _they_ secured places on the
trains which left more or less regularly every day. The retailers
thought the present the best opportunity to make a fortune by realizing
their stock at famine prices. On some goods the retail prices were
doubled in a day, and quadrupled within a week.
Having trusted to Chinese workmen for their preparation, at once
provisions ran short when their services could not be obtained. There
were no bakers and no butchers at work, until the masters organized
fresh staffs from among the troops. Within the first week I had to
buy half a loaf at the Saratoff restaurant in order to have bread for
breakfast the next day. Two days afterwards I had purchased the whole
stock of plain biscuits the storekeepers possessed. There was plenty of
water in the wells, but no coolies to carry it; the public baths were
closed because there were no Chinese to keep the fires going; coals
were cheap enough at the compounds but, again, no means of getting
them home. All the horses and carts which had not been requisitioned
by the authorities were earning double their cost each day in taking
the more valuable household effects of residents to the wharf, the
station, or by road to Dalny. There were no boys to wait on one, or to
do housework; cooks were at a premium; restaurant waiters and carriage
drivers were in the army reserve, and doing their turns of sentry go.
The sanitary corps broke down completely. Laundries ceased to exist.
Never in so short a time did the social organization of a civilized
community go so completely to pieces. To make matters worse, there
was a dearth of ready money. The Russo-Chinese bank, the only bank
permitted in the town, had been damaged during the bombardment, and was
removed to fresh premises in the New Town. When finally it was duly
installed there and opened its doors for business, it would receive
money only, and pay none away! It was long weeks before it again got
into proper working order; when that was accomplished most of the staff
were transferred north to Newchang, Mukden and Harbin, and disorder was
again manifest.
The confusion and disorder in the town were not worse than the
derangement of routine and subversion of order in the official
departments. When the Post Office reopened, one could scarcely get
within its doors so great was the crush. Inside there was little chance
of getting even a stamp delivered to one, or to get a letter accepted
for registration.
The guns in the forts were fired in desultory fashion night and day at
almost every object seen moving on the water. It was unsafe to take
a boat in the harbour, for there rifle fire at people in sampans and
ship’s gigs was both frequent and disastrous.
Of all the departments those connected with the administration of the
affairs of the commercial port were undoubtedly in the most hopeless
state of muddle and remained so. In the private houses everything was
topsy-turvy owing to all of the assistants being absent from duty. In
the official departments the confusion was often due to there being
too many engaged in each division, as every department worked its full
staff overtime or obtained additional hands. The departments were on a
war footing. There were many zealous persons without sufficient duties
assigned to them to keep them fully employed who interfered in matters
outside their own business, and there were some who insisted upon doing
other people’s work and only attempting to do their own.
All matters connected with mercantile shipping were now helplessly
mixed. After the torpedo attack no vessels were allowed to move in
the harbour, but the _Columbia_ escaped from the quarantine station
and sailed away unnoticed and unchallenged. We were informed that she
was sunk at sea by the enemy--quite untruly. The _Foxton Hall_ was
abandoned within the inner harbour and allowed to drift; the _Wenchow_
was detained once because she had Japanese on board, next because she
had no Japanese on board; the _Pleiades_, with many thousand sacks of
flour for a consignee who had run away, was allowed to sail, conveying
from the port provisions all needed.
One knew not what to do. The first vessel given full permission to
leave port, papers granted after the bombardment and after official
inspection and all other formalities and requirements had been complied
with absolutely, was fired upon by the guardship as soon as the captain
attempted to obey the Port Admiral’s commands. The shells from the
guardship killed two of the Chinese passengers, a girl had both legs
blown off by the shot, and several Chinese were wounded severely.
All these vessels were British-owned steamers sailing under the
protection of the British flag. The _Fuping_ was fired upon in broad
daylight, when she was within the harbour, and had her flag and
signals flying. The firing was just as much a mistake or an outrage
as was the unprovoked attack upon the Dogger Bank fishermen by
Admiral Rojdestvensky’s fleet nine months later. It was unnecessary,
unwarrantable, and only explicable by assuming that each bungler
holding office disregarded every authority but himself, and acted as he
thought best for the defence of the port according to his own lights
and on his own responsibility.
The British officer was highly indignant at the incident, and wished
me to make the most of what had happened, informing me that he was
forwarding a strongly worded report of the proceeding to his chief for
transmission to the Foreign Office. I was astonished subsequently that
so little importance was attached to the affair at home, and I am of
the opinion that if the incident had been handled diplomatically by our
Government, the _Knight Commander_ and the _Hipsang_ would not have
been sunk, our Indian mail would not have been tampered with between
Brindisi and Port Said, the North Sea trawlers would not have been
molested, and the British flag would be regarded by Russia with the
same respect that it used to receive from people of other nationality.
The guardship _Razboinik_--“razboinik = robber, highwayman, cut-throat,
moss-trooper, scourer, ruffian, bandit, brigand.--_Alexandrov_”--was
commanded at Port Arthur by Prince Lieven, an experienced officer,
whose culpability for the affair must not be assumed, as I was not
able to ascertain for certain whether or not he was on board his ship
at the time of the attack upon the _Fuping_. Prince Lieven was a
well-known figure in society, and typical of a small but worthy section
of the Russian navy. A Baltic Russian by race, he had little of the
impetuosity of the Slav and much of German staidness; his brain was
contemplative rather than initiatory. He was a devout Lutheran, and
scrupulously conscientious, able to give a reason for every act he
committed, even though that reason would not suffice to convince any
one but himself of its absolute righteousness. He was sober, frugal,
and plodding The gallant captain had fascinating manners, and though
a ladies’ man was essentially of the domestic type, but his life was
far from being devoid of romance, as every one in Port Arthur knew. For
some reason or other the Prince was chary always of being left alone,
and was nervous when in the presence of strangers. It was rumoured that
he was one of the “watched,” that he feared he was being followed by
some one who had determined to take his life. This feeling is of course
too common among a certain class of officials in Russia to be mistaken
for hallucination, as there is often good grounds for the assumption
that they have bitter enemies. In this case the haunting was due to
an old romance. The Prince has been twice married--and one of his
admirers, a sprightly, dashing, intelligent woman--whom I saw sometimes
when I was wandering through the almost deserted town--follows him
everywhere. Subsequently I saw her in different treaty ports, which she
left for Japan, hoping from thence to reach Port Arthur at its fall.
When Prince Lieven escaped on the _Diana_, she sailed for Saigon, where
the crew is interned. Upon this man many important duties devolved--for
some of which possibly he had no time.
Another trouble arose through the ships in harbour being unable to get
supplies of water, and for days the unfortunate passengers had neither
water nor food--but the position of the civilians in town was not much
better.
Of all the Government departments, the best managed during this trying
period was the railway. The staff was less affected by the war than
were some others. Trains ran regularly, and for one day only was
communication with Russia interrupted. Many trains were requisitioned
for military use, nevertheless some passengers were forwarded each day,
and General Stoessel ordered the people to be patient in attempting
to get away, as 20,000 seats were wanted, but the station-master had
only one train with which to meet the demand. On the military side the
railway was used to the full extent and much was accomplished. Troops
were sent to guard inland positions, stores were brought in, heavy guns
were sent to the outlying fortifications, and everything was worked
without any show of haste.
The outgoing passenger trains were at first crowded to their fullest
carrying capacity, and people even stood outside the cars on the
platforms between them. Only first and second class tickets were
issued, and the greater part of the accommodation was third class. No
Chinese were conveyed by train at all.
Port Arthur recovered from the first shock of war in a comparatively
short time. The restoration of calm was due chiefly to non-molestation
on the part of the enemy. Sixteen days elapsed after the first
bombardment before another serious attack was attempted. In the
meanwhile the defence had been organized; a more careful watch was
kept seaward; the batteries were fully manned, big guns were got into
position, the damaged cruisers were docked and repaired, and the fleet
utilized to some extent in supporting the fire from the forts. And the
morale of the citizens improved; the bombardment had injured but a few
personally, the damage to property was not so very serious, and people
found courage, being more confident of immunity from immediate danger.
In the town there was an amelioration of the conditions which ensued
when the Chinese servants absconded. For one thing, just as the
Port Arthur Chinese made haste to reach Dalny, the Dalny Chinese
simultaneously sought safety at Port Arthur. Servants were less scarce,
and the Russian soldiers were engaged upon all kinds of necessary work,
both in houses, and at the docks and on the wharves.
The extent to which the Russian soldiers invaded every domestic domain
with their useful services was astonishing. It was excellent training,
too, for the long siege which followed, as when there was really little
at stake, beyond the sanitary conditions, if the ordinary work were
not done for a time, they filled the places formerly occupied by the
Chinese and so made the defending force absolutely independent of the
assistance to which the coolie immigrant had accustomed the town.
One snowy morning I turned into a short street formerly occupied almost
exclusively by Japanese barbers. Their shops were closed, but I saw
that one of the Russian houses was open. I entered, and found the place
empty. The soldier who had been patrolling the now unfrequented street
followed me into the shop. I explained to him that I had only intended
to get a shave. “Si-chas,” he answered quickly, putting his rifle,
with bayonet still fixed, in a corner. Then he unwound the bashlik
from about his head, took off his great-coat and cap, hung them up,
and--shaved me. When he had finished, pocketed the half rouble, and put
away the tackle, he again donned his uniform, shouldered his rifle,
followed me into the street and resumed his turn of sentry go, until
the next customer should appear.
An advance was made in restoring public confidence with the return
of business men to the direction of their affairs in the port. There
were sinister rumours respecting some of them. It was said that the
authorities, during their absence, had whilst guarding their offices
discovered evidence of the payment of secret commissions to Government
officials, and one statement affirmed that a “monthly pension list”
of premiums regularly paid by one firm to certain naval officers had
been seized and delivered to the Viceroy. No credence was attached to
these stories, for it was incredible, not that payments were made, but
that the businesslike people who paid them kept any written record of
their secret transactions. Another side really merits publicity. From
my own knowledge I can write of the great generosity of the head of
the firm of Ginsburg & Co., a firm of whom I never asked or received
any favour. Mr. Moses Ginsburg was willing and seemed able to help
any one in need. Those who wished to leave Port Arthur and had not
the means to do so went to him for assistance, and he advanced money
without security to all sorts and conditions of people. He took over
and paid cash for stores he did not need, in order that foreigners and
others might close out of business quickly and without loss. He was
a good man of affairs who had made a fortune by commerce, and might
easily have made another in this time of stress, but he was not sordid
by nature and his conduct was exemplary. It contrasted favourably with
that of some men in responsible positions, whose every care was for
themselves. They sacrificed the goods of their firms in order to obtain
ready money, went away with all they could obtain, and left their
clerks and menials without friends or goods to shift for themselves as
well as they could. Nor must it be supposed that the men who acted so
meanly were invariably Russians. Some foreigners are not wholly free
from blame in this particular, though others behaved as became men when
heavily embarrassed with difficulties not of their own creation.
The first brunt of war brought out character. On the whole the Russians
stood the test well: stood to their duties manfully and without
complaining, seemingly inured to hard fortune, and capable of winning
through the troubles with which they were beset. And there is much
that is good in the Slav character, and best is their ever-ready and
eager response to the goodness inherent in human nature, a trait so
marked that if only the Tsar, or his advisers, knew how to appeal to
the people every true Slav would rally to the call. At Port Arthur the
common people, when they realized the position, knew the need there was
for their services, almost without exception accepted the inevitable
with excellent grace and rendered what aid they could. Port Arthur
would beat off the enemy; until victory was really theirs they must
make the best of what fortune had in store for them. The proprietor of
the Saratoff restaurant, a rough fellow with many faults, in harmony
with the spirit of the day advanced his prices--for one day only. On
reflection he went back to his old prices, did his utmost to cater
successfully for his customers, and when you asked for something not
on the bill of fare and he was able to serve it, his gratification was
pleasing to witness. It said, as plainly as if spoken, “Maskee the
enemy, I give you what you want.” It manifested the spirit of defiance,
was earnest money of the victory that was to come.
One of the first important orders given by the Viceroy fixed the prices
of the necessaries of life in the town. The rise in prices had not
been justified by what had happened, there was in truth but a slight
change in the exact value as the result of the war, and the retailers
who thought to benefit by making exorbitant charges were checked at
the very outset. The legitimate prices of bread, flour, rice, salt,
tea and such commodities were but slightly in excess of those current
in January, and any one could go into the market, or any shop in which
such provisions were on sale, and insist upon having a quantity at the
price scheduled.
The Commandant, General Stoessel, was very busy interesting himself
not only in strengthening the defences but in the welfare of the
inhabitants. He issued orders almost every day: their general purport
may be judged from the following specimens, all promulgated on February
3 o.s. (16th).
GENERAL STOESSEL’S COMMANDS
ORDER No. 61
RECENTLY I saw on the pavement two or three men, and trotting,
notwithstanding that this is forbidden, as every soldier knows.
Therefore, on and after the 5th inst., everyone so offending
will have the horses transferred and himself be subjected to a
fine.
ORDER No. 62
THIS DAY I saw in the street two or three drunken men, and all
of them our people. _Notice_ is therefore given that from the
6th inst. every drunken person found on the street will be
arrested and taken to the lock-up, and set to hard labour on
the fortress. It is impossible for anything to be done now with
drunkenness allowed.
ORDER No. 63
THE STAFF COMMANDER will institute performances of high-class
MUSIC on the Boulevards from 3 until 5 p.m. twice a week.
H.E. The Viceroy, Admiral Alexeiev, was not so much in evidence;
occasionally he drove through the town, and with him always were many
of his staff. His notices were of the usual Court order; official
acknowledgments of congratulatory telegrams, and notifications of the
receipt of Imperial commands. The Tsar’s manifesto was not published
until Valentine day.
The Commandant knew how to revive the patriotism of the
inhabitants. His appeal for volunteers to the militia was answered
immediately--nearly every one capable of bearing arms was enrolled.
Later, when the investment was complete, and full military duty was
required, the service became irksome. As one of them told me, fourteen
days in the trenches, alternating with ten days off in which to attend
to private business was unbearable, as the military service unfitted
him for any rôle but that of patient in a hospital. So he left Port
Arthur, as did many others.
It must be borne in mind that for five days after the first attack
the inhabitants were without news of any sort from the outside world.
On Saturday evening the _Novy Krai_ published a bulletin containing
the Tsar’s manifesto, and an account of the torpedo attack and first
bombardment. After that date bulletins were issued regularly for
some weeks, but the news allowed to become public did not truthfully
represent the progress of the war.
There were many optimistic rumours current, in addition to the fanciful
statements respecting Japanese losses published in the bulletin. For
days every one believed that as the result of the Russian cannonade on
the first day six Japanese vessels were damaged; that three Japanese
warships were ashore at Chifu, and one officer informed me in good
faith that although in all twelve Russian ships were lost or damaged,
at that date sixteen Japanese war vessels had been put out of action by
the Russian fire. Again, although on February 11 the _Enisee_ had been
lost at Dalny, I was informed four days after by an officer who had
just arrived from Dalny, that he had seen her the day before, that no
accident had happened, and that the story of her loss was an infamous
concoction.
The Russian loss of life at Port Arthur was invariably understated.
Every one could see the lines of stretcher bearers conveying the
wounded, knew of the funerals of twenty corpses at a time in trenches,
could follow to the graves the remains of officers killed in action,
yet the published totals of the dead, wounded and missing numbered less
than the bodies interred that same day. Possibly this manipulation
of figures helped to allay public uneasiness, and the town certainly
recovered its accustomed gaiety very quickly. The places of public
amusement attempted to reopen, but it was merely the last flicker of
the burnt-out candle. With a town in total darkness after nightfall,
and a rapidly decreasing attendance, paying performances even at small
music-halls became impossible, and the artistes left the town.
The circus horses were requisitioned by the authorities; the circus
became a Red Cross emergency hospital; some of the minor performers and
the attendants became drivers of public carriages, their horses being
those rejected from military service on veterinary examination. As long
as they could run, or haul any sort of load, they were worth more
to their owners than those accepted, for these were all taken at one
price, an order for 125 roubles, a sum any horse in private hands could
earn in a few days.
An Englishman, very fond of riding, managed to retain a saddle horse
long after all others had been taken, by the simple method of riding
about on it all day, and housing it in a different stable every night.
Another foreigner secured a donkey and cart, which earned him a
livelihood for weeks. The donkey was seized in the stable, but three
men could neither coax nor coerce that donkey into making a journey to
the examination depôt, so they themselves decided that such a beast was
of no value to the military authorities.
The destitute Chinese gave considerable trouble to the possessors of
stores lying on the wharves.
One afternoon, just as it was growing dusk, on a day when there had
been some firing from the forts, a loud report was heard near Signal
Hill. At once people rushed that way, and the attention of all the
watchmen was directed to the same quarter. It was merely a preconcerted
signal. From every nook and corner, as though by magic, a crowd of
coolies appeared, and proceeding to a stack of flour on the Bund they
took off the mats, and with their accustomed ejaculations started to
carry away the whole parcel just as if they had been ordered to remove
the flour to one of the go-downs up town. The ruse succeeded for a
short time, when the bold theft was discovered, the gang dropped the
flour and ran. Some of the bags were recovered half a mile from the
Bund, and some were never seen more.
But the Chinese were not the only people ready to loot. Some of the
deserted Japanese shops contained goods of considerable value. Of
these the police took charge, and they employed soldiers to pack and
convey them to a place of safety. More than one attempt was made by
well-to-do foreigners to secure an object of art at first cost, and I
have a recollection of a smart young American careering fearfully along
a street with soldiers in close pursuit. Some valuable effects were
also left behind by rich Chinese merchants who abandoned their homes.
The foreigners mostly shipped their valuables to one of the China
treaty ports, or deposited them at the Russo-Chinese bank, where they
doubtless remain.
It is common knowledge that throughout the East the Chinaman is treated
by Europeans everywhere as an inferior. Possibly the Russians do not
offend more grossly than others, but to those who are not Russians
their cruelties seem more barbarous. Port Arthur was not an exception
to the rule. The lower classes, the coolies, were regarded as slaves.
Once, a Russian, who habitually treated the jinricksha men with
unusual harshness and occasional ferocity, was taken by men he had
abused to a deserted part of the town, and there fearfully and cruelly
mutilated. The perpetrators of this outrage were never discovered. The
authorities were so enraged at being baulked in their attempt to find
the criminals that they sentenced _all_ the ’ricksha men in the port
to a long term of imprisonment, but in order to avoid inconvenience to
the public, the men were divided into two lots, each of which went to
prison alternate weeks.
A few days after the bombardment most of the respectable Chinese had
left the port; there remained many improvident coolies and some Chinese
of the worst type. There is no doubt that they broke the laws and
offended in many ways, but I doubt if they committed any crime which
justified the severity with which they were treated. Persons merely
suspected of wrongdoing were most brutally handled by the military
police. I have seen men cruelly kicked because they could not lift
heavy loads no man could carry; I have seen them beaten and mauled
for no other offence, that I could discover, than that they were
Chinamen. I have seen ears torn, and queues lugged until the scalp
has been ripped--preliminary punishment by the street police when
conveying unresisting coolies to prison, there to answer a charge.
And these assaults were common, in even the leading and most thronged
thoroughfares of the town, and were so usual as rarely to collect a
crowd or call for remark from an officer or any other disinterested
person.
One heard of Japanese spies being captured, but I never saw one taken.
In fact, I saw but few Japanese in the town, except refugees in charge
of a guard, but there was one at least who remained long and escaped
without detection. There was also a Japanese _amah_ at large about the
town for weeks; she wore Russian clothes of loud colour, and rather
unusual fashion, but herself seemed not to attract attention; when last
I spoke to her she said she was in the service of a Russian officer’s
wife.
As a check upon the admittance or sojourn of undesirable persons the
passport system is useless, even in a fortress town such as Port
Arthur, where the regulations are strictly enforced. Otherwise I had
been discovered and notified to leave the town forthwith. Simply
by living quietly and unostentatiously, moving hither and thither
unobtrusively, and keeping quiet, I was allowed every liberty within
the town limits. It was impossible to photograph; the mere possession
of a camera, if known, would have led to inquiry and arrest--and
Russian officers even were arrested for being found with a camera in
hand in the street. It was not easy to use binoculars, for no sooner
were they levelled at a ship in the harbour, than some sentry would
inquire of you what it was attracted your attention.
Nor was it so difficult to get news--of an unimportant kind--or
to get that news away. Several ships left for Chifu; the German
cruiser _Hansa_ called to take away German subjects, and women of all
nationalities, who wished to leave; one passenger train left almost
every day, and was never without passengers--or letters and dispatches.
At the very outset I was informed curtly by the telegraph clerk that
the cable to Chifu was cut--a statement I had then no reason to doubt.
A week or so later, messages for Russia were accepted by the railway
company, and for Manchuria at the town office, but neither was of use
to me.
Much of the ordinary life of the town continued as usual. The war
seemed to make little difference immediately. Even at the time of the
first bombardment there was a wedding at the cathedral; a Russian
wedding is a tedious ceremony, and this one lasted longer than the
bombardment. The same night the bridegroom left with his regiment for
the Yalu. That indicates how little change war made with regard to some
matters, and how greatly altered other relations were by the state
of war. As long as I kept to the streets and open ground I could go
anywhere; at any and every hour of the day and night I have walked
between the old and the new towns. I never approached so near to any
of the forts as to be challenged by the sentries, but in the daytime
I walked into and through the Admiralty dockyard, inspected the ships
undergoing repairs, and even saw into the workshops. On the last
occasion I was stopped at the gates as I left the Admiralty enclosure,
but a word satisfied the officer, and, of course, the sentry, that I
had been on permissible business. I said that I would return later,
but found it inadvisable to keep the promise. Without going into the
yard at all one could see which ships were in dock, what progress was
being made with the repairs, and which ships were lying in the basin
waiting to be docked, for the hill near the Viceroy’s house commands
an uninterrupted view. If one did not recognize the ship, or could
not read her name, one had only to ask either the naval sentry, or
some passing sailor, to be told, and given full particulars. Such
information had no news interest, and I certainly was not sufficiently
concerned to pass it out for the enlightenment of the enemy. There were
things which, as long as I was in Port Arthur, I liked to know.
Once only was I accosted by a soldier. It was in the very early hours
of the morning, the night dark and cloudy with some snow falling. I had
passed the railway when a Cossack, leading his pony, came to me to ask
if I knew where the telegraph office was. He had been looking for the
steps up the cliff for more than an hour without success. And this was
the Cossack! The scout of scouts, the man who could go direct to any
spot at any time--and I, a foreigner and a stranger, had to conduct him
to the town telegraph office!
It was open for any one to see the troops who left the fortress, to
note the regiment, number of companies, and the physique of the men; it
was as easy to go to the railway station and check the number of trains
arriving and departing, to find the military trains and ascertain
what they brought and what they took away. There was no secret made
of anything. Then one could go to the drill ground and see the troops
being exercised, and the recruits put through barrack-yard evolutions
and parade-ground displays. The march past in review order, wheeling in
line, forming into columns, and the simplest manœuvres seemed to be the
usual order of the day. Woe to the man who failed to keep his dressing,
who advanced too rapidly, or fell behind. A running kick from the
drill sergeant was the first notification he had of his error. As in
every drill yard of Russia in time of peace the troops rehearsed their
cheers. At Port Arthur, and elsewhere in Manchuria, there as in Russia,
the cheer was the performance of an order, done as mechanically and
precisely as the movement of shouldering arms, or turning right about;
and it was always given in the same tone of voice, jerked out in sharp,
staccato fashion, a succession of disconnected syllables; not, “Long
live the Tsar! Horray!” but: “Da--zdrav--stouett--nash--obo--jamie
--goc--u--dap--im--per--at--or--ura!”
During the whole of my stay at Port Arthur I heard but one genuine,
spontaneous cheer in connexion with the war. It was on the first day
when the little cruiser _Novik_ returned from being under fire from
the enemy. The crowd of Government employees on the Admiralty quay to
greet the vessel, cheered lustily and long. The _Askold_ also received
an ovation, and so did some of the torpedo-boat destroyers. Captain
Essen, of the _Novik_, was one of the most dashing officers of the
Russian navy, and was repeatedly mentioned in dispatches. Another
fighting commander was Zalyesski of the _Askold_, and Lieutenant
Kouzmin-Korovaiev, of the _Serditi_, both of whom distinguished
themselves on the occasion.
The small cruisers and boats of the torpedo flotilla were soon
repaired, but large ships like the _Pallada_ had long to wait, and the
injuries to the battleships were very severe.
The _Retvizan_, torpedoed, had a hole on the port side over forty
feet in length, and twenty in depth. Seven compartments were full of
water, and as she lay beached the tide rose and fell in her holds. The
bodies of a number of drowned sailors were in the filled compartments,
and not recovered until after many days. The Russian engineers put a
patch of wood over the hole, covered it with tarpaulins, and started
to pump out the ship. When the depth of water inside had been reduced
several feet, the pressure outside was so great that the patch burst
in, and the ship filled again. The services of a Scotch engineer were
then requisitioned. He found the appliances at Port Arthur primitive
in design and wanting in quantity. The port was even short of hose.
The authorities also opposed the suggestions he made for salving the
ship. He wanted to make a hole in the side of the vessel above the
water line, so that instead of having to pump up the water thirty
feet, five would suffice. This proposal was negatived, as was also one
for removing the turret guns, the anchors, cables, and other heavy
gear forward in order to lighten the ship. Ultimately some of his
suggestions were tried, and the ship was refloated.
The _Tesarevich_ had been torpedoed on the starboard quarter, had lost
the propeller and boss, and though not sunk was kept afloat only by
constant pumping. There was no dock at Port Arthur large enough to
take the big warship, and but for the advice of a Hollander she could
not have been repaired at all. He suggested that a deep hole should
be excavated on a mud bank in the harbour, the vessel backed into
the hole, then mud walls built up amidships, and the water from the
excavated hole pumped out, thus leaving that half of the vessel which
needed repairs in a dock of mud, and the fore part in the shallow water
of the harbour. This plan was tried with success. A new propeller was
sent by railway from St. Petersburg and the vessel repaired, seaworthy,
and in good fighting trim eventually escaped to Kiaochow, where the
German authorities detained her until the war should end.
So far the war had proved several things; one was that a modern
battleship is practically indestructible both by torpedoes and shell
fire unless sunk in deep water. The tremendous poundings some of the
ships received caused damage which made the vessel resemble a wreck,
but in a few days, or weeks at most, the ship would be out of dock,
spick and span, in fine fighting trim, and to all appearances equal to
new. Even the _Retvizan_, lying beached and waterlogged, used her guns
with effect at that time, and was ultimately patched up and made as fit
as any ship of the fleet.
Some experts contended that with the fleet Port Arthur would prove
invulnerable. The ships were to manœuvre outside where protected
by the guns of the forts, and snatch advantages from the attacking
fleet of the enemy. As it turned out the naval guns of the Japanese
were better than the fortress guns of the Russians, and were used to
better purpose. From the first the fleet, instead of being an aid to
the defence of the fortress, was an immovable incubus, an inert dead
weight, a crushing load which the forts had to protect always.
If Russia had possessed a fighting navy in the Far East, the plan of
campaign might have been different, or, if the same, the results might
have been otherwise than they are. But a fighting navy Russia does not
possess. I have already expressed the surprise I experienced when this
was told to me; that surprise was equalled by the proof I subsequently
received of its accuracy. I have overheard Russian naval officers state
that they did not intend to fight, that they could not take this risk,
or that, or some other. It has been on other occasions a subject of
conversation amongst officers when I, a foreigner, was present; and I
have even been told by certain officers that, at least, so far as they
themselves were concerned, dying or being wounded in the defence of
their country was just the last thing they intended to risk.
These men had a different conception of their duties, their calling,
and their status to that possessed by officers of our navy. In fact,
some seemed to think it was wrong that their navy should ever have been
called upon to fight, that fighting was a purpose for which it was
never founded, and that, like a British gunboat, it was intended for
diplomatic uses only. I do not assert that the officers who thought
and spoke and acted in this way were a majority of the Russian navy,
or even that they were fairly representative of the whole service;
but I do believe they were as numerous as were the men who were keen
for fighting, who were ready for battle, and wished to be engaged in
struggling against the enemy’s fleet. The bulk of the sea-forces, so
far as the officers are concerned, were more or less indifferent,
inclining to prefer peace, and always to avoid personal risks.
The men, like the soldiers of the Russian armies, are just simple
fellows, doing their duty in war and peace because they are ordered to
do certain things. The engineers and the gunners both were, I think,
more inclined to shirk the risks, and to find excuses for absence on
particular occasions, than anxious to distinguish themselves by gallant
conduct in battle. Such men do not merit praise, but they must not be
condemned too hastily, nor are they necessarily cowards.
Men who have risked their lives in battle, men who have been actually
under fire, are affected by the circumstance in different ways.
When the excitement of the fight is over, I think there are few who
are really anxious for a renewal of the risks for the sake of the
excitement, but they may be willing to engage again as bravely as
before for other reasons--patriotism, for instance. If there is a
certainty, or even probability, of those same or like risks being run
again, or many times, then, in the intervals of repose, men see other
things and other circumstances than the war and their own immediate
surroundings out of proper focus. Self-preservation being the highest
law, secondary laws, including all moral obligations, suffer a seeming
decrease in value. The man whose life has been and at any moment may
again be risked in battle, is not likely to consider that he owes the
ten shillings in his pocket to some person far away, and that he ought
to remit, but his one idea is the value of that ten shillings to him
just then, where he is. What pleasure will it obtain for him at the
moment, seeing that sooner than he can realize its value he may be
dead? Quickly recurring risks of sudden death cause a deterioration of
what may be called the moral fibre of the individual, and at the same
time produce a marked hardening of character. The man whose life is
in jeopardy, or soon may be, wants to find a way out into safety. He
whose whole being is in danger of immediate extinction is unlikely to
have any particular care for his reputation. Life is worth more than
reputation; the latter may be retrieved if the former is saved, and at
the moment life seems better worth saving than honour.
Another feature is the growth of recklessness due to the greatness
or number of the risks run. The man who has faced bullets with grim
determination not to waver, will skate over the thinnest ice with a
glad smile on his face. The greater excludes the less. The respectable
man who has been forced to commit a murder for which he will be hanged,
is not going to be deterred from assaulting a policeman through fear of
incurring seven days’ imprisonment.
Now the individual units which constitute the Russian navy are not
drawn chiefly from a true fighting race. In the aggregate _esprit de
corps_ means to them something else than it does to the members of a
fighting regiment, and is concerned chiefly with matters of etiquette
and other little things. Then they are not imbued with the traditions
of a glorious past, as are, say, men of the British navy. There is not
much reputation to lose, and the glory of achievement they have never
experienced. Worse than all, the Japanese delivered the first blow,
a heavy blow, one that damaged and for a time paralyzed the navy--it
showed that fortune was with them. From the very first the Russians
were disheartened--too badly beaten to retrieve their position.
In the circumstances it is not surprising that some of them--from one
or other of the causes already explained--in order to find distraction,
turned to such allurements as Port Arthur possessed. There were
carousals, wild parties intent on devilment; there was shirking of
duty, courting of pleasure; there was dissipation, debauchery, and
degrading licentiousness, a disregard of warnings, of orders, and of
restraint. Some places of amusement were closed; those which remained
open were thronged with boisterous, distraught, and reckless men of
every rank, and although naval officers were the worst offenders, they
had as company their equals from other services. Port Arthur after the
commencement of hostilities was in these particulars far worse than
the somewhat gay but always enjoyable town in the days of peace. As
time wore on the men of the services became more and more suspicious of
civilians, particularly of foreigners, and most of all of British and
Americans. One of the foreign firms, intent upon possessing a competent
stevedore, had engaged a British master mariner in that capacity. He
attended to his duties assiduously, was so successful, so resourceful,
and moreover so quiet and entirely wrapped up in the heavy work upon
which he was engaged, that they became sure he was a spy. For so good
a man to be a simple stevedore was incredible; his like should be of
admiral’s rank at least. So he had to go.
Their dislike sometimes took an offensive direction. A quiet young
American, a clerk in the employ of one of the firms, was struck by
a naval officer in the Saratoff restaurant for no other reason than
that he was an American. There was no apology asked, nor was one ever
tendered. That man also had to go.
A chinovnik, one of my best-informed newsmongers, told me that the
officers of high rank were no longer sure of the superiority of
Russia’s power. They thought Russia might be beaten on land as well
as at sea, even that she might lose Port Arthur. Later this change of
opinion permeated through the lower ranks of officers, and to the men.
The commandant had to issue an order that workmen and others must not
be allowed to leave the town without written authority. My informant
thought it best to go.
Some of the foreign firms closed out rapidly; their clerks were ordered
to go. One of them, a Russian subject, of the type that assumes to
know everything, made up his mind to stay on in the town. In order
to obtain the necessary permission he interviewed General Stoessel,
proffering him a plan for strengthening the fortifications of the
fortress. General Stoessel thought him a most dangerous man to have in
the town. Forthwith he had to go.
It became increasingly difficult to obtain trustworthy information
concerning anything of importance, and not easy to meet one’s
informants, as though by accident, at the time when they had
information, and were willing to communicate it. The results of the
desultory firing day by day were not distinguishable, and the _Novy
Krai_ became a newsless sheet.
Between the naval and military authorities the dissensions long
existing, and bitter even before the war, suddenly became acute.
Differences were discussed openly, the army and navy were at variance,
and the diplomatic body seemed unable to make peace between them.
Matters were not much improved when it was known that the Viceroy
would leave Port Arthur, placing Admiral Stark in full command, and
take the diplomatic corps and executive of the Administration to new
headquarters at Mukden.
General Stoessel was to be in chief command of the land defences;
General Smirnov to be his assistant, and in full charge of the
southernmost forts, both east and west. From the beginning the two
did not work well together, and as the enemy gained advantage after
advantage by their attacks on the land side, whilst General Smirnov’s
forts escaped serious injury from different bombardments by the enemy’s
fleet, this lack of harmony changed into discord, and later developed
into something of the nature of mutual antagonism. General Stoessel
strengthened the outer line of fortifications by every means devisible.
Land mines innumerable were sunk below the soil of all the slopes; the
workshops were working night and day preparing fougades from lengths
of any iron tubing procurable, wire entanglements were erected, German
firms and others having foreseen the possible need, and laid in large
stocks in anticipation of the demand, and, last of all, a trench was
dug all round the outer line; its length was seven miles, and its depth
twenty feet, and width in some places nearly fifty feet.
CHAPTER VI
Last Days in Port Arthur
One morning I was taking my early breakfast at the Saratoff, when
a carriage pulled up. Almost immediately afterwards Mac, Reuter’s
representative whom I had met in Port Arthur before the war, entered
the restaurant and, thirsting as I was for trustworthy news of what
had happened outside the fortress, I lost no time in inviting him to
be seated at my table. Mac was equally eager to know what had happened
in the town whilst he had been absent. We fenced phrases a short time,
and I was so intent upon drawing Mac that I had not noticed an officer
who had followed him into the restaurant, then seated himself at a
near-by table and engaged in conversation one of the civilians of the
Port who was breakfasting there. In a few minutes Mac drew my attention
to him, and told me that he was the officer of Gendarmes who had him
under arrest. That he had come into the fortress with an escort and
was furnished with special permission to get what belonged to him, and
leave the fortress again within forty-eight hours. When he told this
I felt that it was the beginning of the end of my stay at Port Arthur.
I learned from Mac that up to the present the military activity of the
Japanese was confined to operations in Korea. The way out north was
still open, and likely to remain so.
Later that morning, I met Mac again. He had shaken off the police
escort and was in the company of an Anglo-Russian resident
correspondent, and some civilian foreigners. We took tiffin together
at the Saratoff, all of us intent upon getting news of the outer
world from the new arrival. Again, as luck had it, Tsintsius, the
plain-clothes detective of Port Arthur, came in, shook hands with Mac,
and took stock of the company. Me, of course, he did not know, and
inquired. Mac obligingly introduced me--he could not do otherwise--and
told me consolingly that Tsintsius was the man who had arrested him
originally, and he wished him anywhere but there.
The detective was watching Mac and noting those with whom he had any
conversation, and of course would want to know all about me, and
probably would obtain some information before the day was out. I had
seen him many times about the town, for he was a conspicuous figure. He
wore a moustache--unusual amongst civilians--a light coloured slouch
hat, a very gaudy scarlet neck cloth, sailor shirt, and a light grey
sack suit. Tsintsius would recognize me again anywhere as easily as
I could recognize him, for that was his profession. I foresaw much
trouble looming up for me, and, as the Americans say, got up against
myself to find a way of escape. Sooner or later, I should have to
own up, and, just as a person who is about to be discharged from his
employment scores by getting his resignation accepted first, I deemed
it best to go to some one in authority who would listen to me, then
cross my legs and tell my right name and real business, or I would be
taken and treated as a spy.
Clearly, there was no one in authority more likely to listen to me than
was Major-General Floog, then unknown to world fame, but who had a
responsible position on the staff of the Viceroy, and was assumed to be
occupying himself with the claims of newspaper correspondents. I drove
over to the New Town at once, and called upon the General. Of course,
he would not see me--it was a case of “come again--to-morrow morning at
nine o’clock”--but I got my name registered there, without any mention
of the business on which I wished to interview the General. Then I went
out towards White Wolf Hill, and back by the upper road into town.
On the Serpionaya there was a curious joint, frequented more or less by
every one who was anybody in Port Arthur, a house Mac was most unlikely
to visit. I went there for an hour or two, and just as I was leaving,
I opened the door to Tsintsius!
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Round to the Saratoff for supper.”
“I’m going there too. I have a carriage here; jump in. I’ll drive you
round.” Then he called to the driver, “Straight on!”
At the first corner, I shouted, “To the right!”
“Straight on, straight on!” called Tsintsius. Then he explained, “We’ll
go over the hill, it is not much farther, and it saves many turns.”
“All right.”
“The Anglo-Russian correspondent”--he mentioned his name--“told me
where I might find you!”
I should not have thought it of him; the boy had guessed right the very
first time, and really he never had enough sense to creep in under
cover out of the rain. The newspaper pose never suited him, and he is
doing better work now as secretary to an Archimandrite of the Orthodox
Church.
“Do you know many people in Port Arthur?” asked the detective.
“Very few,” I answered promptly.
“For instance?”
That was too easy. “For instance? Those correspondents and their
companions with whom you saw me taking lunch to-day?”
“Ah, you are going to have supper with them? But whom else do you
know?” He fidgeted uneasily by my side.
“Some business men in the town,” I answered, without interest.
“Do you happen to know the chief of police?”
“I am not personally acquainted with him.”
“He is a very fine man.”
“Everyone praises him.”
The horses were toiling slowly up the ascent, splashing through the
ice, snow, and mud; the night was dark as the inside of a money-safe.
“You ought to know him. He lives close by.”
I knew very well where he lived--at the top of the hill--which we were
nearing, for the horses were trotting again. I ignored his remark.
“That’s right. I shall be glad to get some supper. I am very hungry.”
“I should like to introduce you to him now.”
The conversation did not please me at all. “Some other time,” I
protested. “I want supper.”
“It will not delay us a minute. Stop, driver!”
“Well, where are we now?” I asked.
“At the Chief’s. Come, just a minute! You will find him an excellent
friend.”
He got out of the carriage.
“Don’t be long. I’ll wait for you,” I remarked casually.
“No, no! Come in! You must! I insist! He is a charming man. We need not
stay a minute and perhaps I’ll not have the opportunity again.”
“To-morrow morning, then. Now is not the time to make a social call.”
“The hour does not matter; I’m one of the staff. Come along!”
He spoke pleadingly. I guessed what was in store for me, but deemed it
wisest to agree, so followed him into the house.
“Tell your master I wish to see him.”
We entered a small reception room on the right. It was comfortably
furnished for a Port Arthur house, and had a large writing table and a
telephone.
We had been seated only a few minutes when the Chief of Police entered
the room. He is a tall, handsome, Baltic Russian, with a courtly
manner, and a charmingly frank countenance. The Tsar has no more
honourable or devoted servant than the clever Chief of the Port Arthur
police.
He acknowledged my bow with a slight inclination, and strode across to
the telephone, and rang up.
“This is an Englishman I have just arrested on the Serpionaya,”
explained the detective.
“Take him to the lock-up,” commanded his chief.
That was all. As the telephone was ringing in answer, we left the
room--and the house.
When we were again seated in the carriage it was the detective’s turn
to have the conversation take an unpleasant turn.
“What about our supper at the Saratoff?” I began.
He was silent.
It would have been better had I remained silent too, but that was
impossible. I upbraided him with his deceit, his treachery, his
unfriendliness, called him _störer_, _schürke_, and _lump_, _schuft_,
_verrather_, and _hundsfott_; the German language had not bad names
enough for him, and I relapsed on mujik’s Russian. When he protested I
called him _lugner_, and he took it with composure. It did not occur to
me then that he had done his business in a masterly manner.
The horses plunged into mudholes in the darkness; the carriage swayed
and groaned; we were crossing unmade ground, going round to the back of
the jail by a way with which I was not familiar. At last the carriage
stopped near the edge of a rough declivity. We groped our way round the
gable of a building and by-and-by reached the porch.
Inside was one large room with some smaller offices opening from it,
and a corridor leading in the direction of the jail. There was the
usual stove, some policemen idling about, and a clerk busy with printed
forms at a table in the corner.
Tsintsius spoke a few words with some officer in one of the inner
rooms, then left the building. I asked if it were permissible to smoke,
and having leave to do so, walked back and forth in that room--it
seemed for hours. Luckily I had my identification and other papers on
me, for I had then no invention to concoct any sort of plausible story.
People came and went, policemen marched through the room; officials
arrived, hung their great-coats on the wall, disappeared in the inner
rooms, re-appeared, put on their coats and went out into the darkness.
The clerk filled in the printed forms, and smoked cigarettes with equal
assiduity. It was the sort of thing that might continue without change
as long as the Russian empire endures.
At last there was a diversion. Tsintsius arrived with the Anglo-Russian
correspondent and Mac--the energetic man had arrested both of them.
The Anglo-Russian correspondent recognizing me, and cognizant that he
had been the cause of my arrest, opened with an apology, and I, full
of resentment towards him, started on a wordy attack. Mac looked on
silently, pityingly, wonderingly, and full to the eyelids of his own
woes.
“If you _were_ asked where I might be found, it would have been easy to
say that you did not know--and, if you were born and raised in Russia
and have not learned to say, ‘I don’t know,’ to any and every question
asked you, I should just like to meet the people with whom you have
associated?”
He is a good-hearted, generous fellow, always acknowledging his fault,
blaming himself, and apologizing profusely--the sort of man who gets on
my nerves at once.
“Yes, yes, I know I ought to have said, ‘I don’t know,’ but I didn’t
know, and----”
“Oh, don’t talk to me! And don’t get new--for I can’t stand that.”
We were interrupted by a new arrival--none other than the officer
of Gendarmes who had Mac in his charge. He strode to Tsintsius, and
began a clamorous altercation, which almost immediately developed into
a fight. The enraged officer clutched the detective by the throat,
twisted him over backwards and commenced belabouring him unmercifully.
Tsintsius would then and there have suffered the half-death he merited,
had not the officials separated the combatants. Truly, Russian
officials have great affection for each other.
The trouble had arisen from the officiousness of Tsintsius in arresting
Mac; the officer declared he had him in charge all the time; the
detective declared that he had not. Their difference ended with the
arrival of the Chief of Police, and soon Mac was through, the officer
undertaking to get him out of Port Arthur by the next train. Then my
turn came.
Fortunately my papers were found to be in order. My passport had been
duly registered, but the police had not been notified of changes of
address. I informed the chief that I had produced my passport when I
engaged rooms, but had been informed by the proprietors that as it had
already been endorsed no further formalities were necessary. If they
were, the proprietors, who were Russians, were in a position to know of
what had been ordered better than myself, a stranger.
As to my business, my visit to Major-General Floog earlier in the
day decided that. The chief made me promise that I would call on the
Major-General the next morning, and follow his directions. Meanwhile I
was at liberty to go wherever I pleased in either the Old Town or the
New.
It was past midnight before I took supper at the Saratoff. Tsintsius
was not present, but I noticed a change in the attitude of the
company towards myself. The police interlude had enveloped me with an
atmosphere of uncertainty; people doubted whether they might converse
with me, without bringing suspicion upon themselves.
Mac left during the night. Early the next morning I once more took up
my abode at Efimoff’s, now crowded with Russian officers of inferior
rank, horribly mismanaged and many times more filthy than when the
proprietor was directing in person.
Then I went again to visit Major-General Floog.
On this occasion I did not see that irresponsible officer at all.
First he wished to know the nature of my business with him. My papers
explained it to him, or to his secretary. I awaited the reply with
some misgiving. On one occasion when I interviewed an officer with
reference to facilities for newspaper correspondents, I was answered by
an inferior possessing the proportions of the conventional alderman,
who came close to me, bowed slowly until our foreheads almost met; then
straightened himself up suddenly, and as I took a step backward he
repeated the manœuvre, and continued the ceremonial, until, against my
intention, I was outside the room. And all he said was that the high
authorities intended to make it so difficult for correspondents that
few would care to remain with the army--if, even, they got so far as
to be permitted to reach the Russian forces. By that time I was on the
mat outside, experiencing a numb sensation of absolute soullessness
pervading my whole being.
The Russian officials told off for this special duty have such an
excellent address, and are so adroit, yet gracious in their manner,
that an undesired visitor is bowed out in less time than it takes him
to say good-day. Another correspondent of the _Times_ had occasion to
call on the Russian Administrator of Newchwang. It was his first visit,
and before he had time to mention the purpose of his interview he was
gladly received--and dismissed--finding himself on the mat, and the
sentry holding open the hall door for his exit, before he realized that
he was in the presence. Having experienced similar treatment, this time
I was prepared for the excessively polite attack which ensures speedy
and complete defeat. And first I walked across the room and took a seat
near the wall farthest from the door.
Lieut.-Col. Maximovich was the official to whom my application was
entrusted. He came in expecting to find me in the place usually taken
by casual callers. In one hand he held out my documents, in the other
I noticed a printed paper, the like of which I seemed to have seen
before. He informed me, courteously enough, that all applications by
correspondents must be made through the correspondent’s own Minister
of State for Foreign Affairs recommending him to His Excellency
the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs, who would transmit the
recommendation to His Excellency the Viceroy, who might consider
favourably such an application for permission to be accredited to one
of the Russian armies in the Far East.
There was a great deal of circumlocution attached to this course,
in which so many Excellencies had to be interested. I begged the
Colonel to be kind enough to put that information in writing for
me. He complied, using an abbreviated form and omitting various
_Vuisokoprevoskhodityelstvo’s_, and other titles. He reached me at
once, on concluding, with the order: “You must now leave Port Arthur
forthwith.”
“Yes,” said I; “where may I go?”
He suggested Chifu.
I had no more business with Chifu than Russia could have. I suggested
Mukden.
“No, not Mukden.”
“Dalny?”
“Not Dalny.”
“Harbin?”
He shook his head.
“Newchwang?”
As to that he could not say. Newchwang might be possible.
There and then I determined that it should be Newchwang.
“_Au revoir_, Colonel,” I said cheerily.
“Good-bye,” he answered icily.
As I left he handed the printed form to an orderly, giving instructions
that it should be forwarded immediately.
Next I called upon the Anglo-Russian correspondent, but his flat
was forsaken--he had gone into hiding for a few days. The remainder
of my stay in Port Arthur was apportioned to getting rid of my
responsibilities as to other persons’ property, learning something
respecting the present state of the warships in the harbour, the
personnel of the new appointments to the Viceroy’s staff, the probable
date of their departure north, and arrange for the transmission of
further news to me at Newchwang. The programme was carried through in
its entirety; I spent the early hours of the evening with some officers
in the New Town, and it was long after dark before I directed my steps
homeward. I had still one call to make. That was interrupted by the
brusque entrance of Tsintsius, with a summons for me to attend at the
police-station at once. His manner was different from that he had shown
previously. He was abrupt and churlish. There was a third person in his
carriage when I stepped into it, and we drove along in silence.
At the police-station I took the initiative; went into the inner room,
and requested the clerk to ring up the Chief of Police. I explained
the position in a few words, expressed my intention of leaving by the
next train, and told the police-master he would find me at Efimoff’s
whenever he needed me. I was ordered to be allowed to go, and the
clerk accordingly endorsed the order--the one I had noticed in the
hand of Colonel Maximovich that morning. The action of the authorities
was explicable. Having discovered the presence of a newspaper
correspondent in the fortress, they were anxious for his immediate
departure. He could not leave quickly enough to satisfy them.
The next morning my baggage and myself were at the railway terminus
in good time. That day the train was late; at the moment no one could
say whether or not there would be a train leaving. It was a matter of
indifference to me--longing for a fresh attack by the Japanese fleet,
or any event which would prolong my stay. But at last the train came,
and I had an unexpected diversion.
I was entering the booking office when a captain of the railway guards
tapped me on the shoulder.
“Are you the war correspondent who is ordered to leave?”
“I am,” I answered.
“Have you a permit?”
“No,” I said, astonished. “I am ordered to go.”
“Ah, but you must have a permit.”
The ever officious Tsintsius was at hand to explain. His explanation
did not satisfy the captain.
“Get one for him, then,” said Tsintsius.
The captain consented. He wrote an order, gave it to one of his men and
told him to conduct me to his quarters.
When we arrived there, the clerk in charge made a lengthy business
of his work. He drew up a petition to General Stoessel, stating who
and what I was, where I wanted to go, specified that I had with me a
Gladstone bag, riding whip, etc., etc., and required a permit to leave
Port Arthur. The captain himself came and assisted in drafting the
document. Then I was dispatched with the guard to the commandant of the
fortress.
General Stoessel was not at all pleased to see me, or gratified at
the nature of the communication. He stamped, and fumed, and abused
the captain and his men; the guard meanwhile standing strictly to
attention. No permit was necessary to leave Port Arthur--only to enter
the town.
“Still,” I said, “they won’t let me leave without a pass.”
“Stay! I will give you something which will satisfy that imbecile.”
He scribbled a few words on paper and handed it to me.
When we were in our carriage, the guard asked me to loan him the paper,
and he studied it carefully.
“You see our captain was right. It is a permit.” That was well, but
when we reached the station the train had gone--there was no other
until early the next morning, so I had another day in Port Arthur.
In the afternoon I met the Chief of Police on the Bund.
“Why have you not gone?” he asked.
I explained what had happened.
He looked very serious. “You will go to-morrow. Good. Now go to your
room; eat, drink, smoke, sleep, do not come out until the train is
ready. I speak for your own good. Do that.”
The police-master had not mentioned the purpose for which I was staying
in Port Arthur. I knew that he meant the Anti-British feeling was so
intense that my nationality alone might suffice to get me into trouble
with some of the more rowdy officers in the fortress. I took the risk
and that day again visited every accessible place of importance. I did
not visit the police-station, but as evening drew near it occurred to
me that Tsintsius would again be busy. I thought I might avoid him for
one night. At that time there were in Port Arthur two foreigners having
the same surname, say Smith. Harry was an American; Will was British.
Harry had invited me to spend the week end with his mess in the New
Town, and although I could not do that now, it would serve me to spend
the night there. Accordingly I looked him up. He was sorry, but one of
his messmates, a Russian, thought that if they in any way were known to
be associates of mine, they might have trouble with the authorities,
and certainly would be suspected. He thought his namesake would be
pleased to give me a bed, and he knew he had a spare room.
Will was not at home. Close by there lived an American who kept open
house, and Harry suggested we should go there for a time. So we paid an
afternoon call, took tea, and made the acquaintance of other visitors,
including a naval officer whose turn it was to take duty on Golden Hill
fort in charge of the naval gunners then stationed there. He was due in
the battery at dusk, but seemed in no hurry to get away. We returned to
Will’s house, where Harry left me.
After dinner Will proposed that we should go to the American’s again
and take a hand at cards. When we arrived I was told that shortly after
I had left the police called, searching for me. They were informed
that I had left with Harry Smith, and to his house they hurried. He
had not reached home. They visited his office, called upon all of his
associates they could find, but none had seen me recently. The police
then searched the Old Town thoroughly from the Bund to the market, from
the _Hotel de France_ to the hop-joints of far away China Town.
When I left that house at midnight the naval officer was still there,
determined to remain until morning. Half a dozen other officers had
joined the party; the piano was going; corks were popping; fresh
packs of cards and chalk, glasses and crisp rouble notes crowded the
green-cloth tables. That was Port Arthur.
Outside was utter darkness: the oppressive silence of suspense--broken
at long intervals by the reverberation of cannon presaging a more
anxious morrow.
As I walked down from the New Town to the railway before dawn, only
a few Chinamen were astir, tripping ghoul-like hither and thither
silently. Sentries paced to and fro, their great-coats and bashliks
tight around them; rugged Cossacks patrolled the gloomy snow-flecked
road; the half-finished buildings seemed ghastly ruins in the murky
obscurity of awful night and awoke memories of horrid dreams--dreams of
baffled efforts, dashed hopes, and numb despair.
Before catching sight of the ever vigilant Tsintsius I noticed that
the train of dining-saloon and sleeping cars, which had long been in
a siding, had now an engine attached, and that engine under steam.
Crossing the rails I saw huddled on the platform a party of about 200
Japanese refugees. Most were women, and crouching and huddled into
groups for warmth. The few men were being unmercifully cuffed, beaten
and kicked by the armed soldier guard in charge of them. All were
bundled into covered waggons attached to the train, but I did not see
what became of them. Probably they were sent by way of Dalny and Chifu
to their own country.
Even that morning the authorities were not anxious to convey me; at
least, did not wish me to travel in the only car in which there was
room. I told them they might put me off the train if they wished. I was
indifferent and did not argue. I left that to Tsintsius. He maintained
the discussion successfully until the train left the station and he
passed from my horizon.
My troubles were not quite at an end. We stayed at Nangalin junction.
In the restaurant there were many officers and a few civilians. I
was telling the latter some of the gossip of Port Arthur; how the
circus had been broken up, the ponies drafted into Cossack stables,
and how they danced in the streets when the band began to play, and
so threw off their riders. I proceeded with other small talk, when I
was interrupted by a bearded, be-spectacled officer behind me, asking
suddenly in my own tongue, “You--are--English?”
“Yes, thank God!” I answered.
“Where are you going?”
“Up north.”
“Ah! Have you a permission?”
“No. I have a ticket.”
“Ah--no permission.”
He retired to a corner, conferred with a number of officers, then
returned to the attack.
He would know why I left Port Arthur, why I was going to Newchwang, and
a hundred other matters of no concern, all of which I answered with
great candour. In the end, he and his council agreed that I might be
allowed to proceed.
On the platform outside, a large station guard had been drawn up. In
addition there was a draft of the 13th Siberian Rifles, and a number of
civilians carrying old Mauser rifles, belts, bayonets and ammunition
pouches. They rallied round a triangular white standard on which the
cryptic letters M.D. were embroidered in red.
The officer who had questioned me was walking the platform leisurely.
It was my turn to inquire. I had given him such information as he asked
of me, and I determined that he should not escape my attentions. At
once his English became very meagre, but I plied him so vigorously
as to these troops and those, the number, intention, and destination
of the armed militia; the how, why and where of their enrolment and
condition of service, and other matters that he really deserved to be
excused, after supplying so much information, when he declined to state
anything respecting the special train which was following mine north.
Luck favoured me a little, for later I had to change trains at
Tashichiao, and whilst waiting there the special arrived, with the
Viceroy and his staff. My attempt to board the train was frustrated
by the cordon of sentries, but from my own car I saw the company
foregather, dine, make merry, and converse. I recognized first one
officer, then another, knew that a tour of inspection was being made
and that the generals of the different divisions were receiving
instructions or suggesting alterations. Then the train pulled out of
sight and I journeyed to Newchwang without further incident but in
possession of some news, and the story of events in Port Arthur to that
date, which was cabled immediately.
CHAPTER VII
The Day’s Work
Many suppose that because the special war correspondents achieved so
little they had a comparatively easy life, pleasantly passed under
the Sun-flag in the beauteous isles of the Orient. This was not so
for those whose luck it was to be accredited to the Russian army in
Manchuria, and still less for those newsgatherers who hovered on the
frontier of the neutral territory.
There the day’s work was long, often arduous, and seldom satisfactory.
It had its dangers. Mr. Etzel, of the _Daily Telegraph_, the only
correspondent shot during this war, was of us, and I intend now to
describe the life we two led together at Yingkow, in the months of
March and April. We were not alone, from first to last more than
two score correspondents used Yingkow as temporary or permanent
headquarters.
If we had not been disturbed during the night we would be out early,
and from a glance at the main roads east and west ascertain whether
there had been any movement of troops during the hours of darkness. If
there were tracks, we followed up the clue after breakfast. We had also
to visit the hotels to see whether there were new arrivals from Port
Arthur or the north, as the Russian train usually arrived very early
in the morning, and the Chinese train left the station on the opposite
side of the river at seven o’clock, so it was sometimes possible for
a through passenger to travel from one station to the other without a
stay in Newchwang, and correspondents could not afford to allow one to
slip by unquestioned.
In the forenoon we rode out to the Russian settlement, to Niuchatun, to
the Russian fort on the south-west, or to their entrenchments further
out, near the salt-pans at the river mouth. Etzel was an excellent
scout. On several occasions I was out with him alone, tracking Russian
movements, reconnoitring their outposts, or observing what changes
they were about to make in the disposition of their military forces
around the town. The facility with which he got from point to point
without being observed was as excellent as the inimitable manner in
which he carried through the examination of the particular business
he had set himself to investigate. He had an acute perception of
military movements which might have an important bearing on the
plan of campaign, and foresight so remarkable that it seemed to me
he had a special faculty which enabled him to divine the intentions
of the Russian officers directing the troops and superintending the
construction of defensive works. Then, in scouting, he found the right
clues quickly and followed them with unerring accuracy and admirable
precision.
In the afternoon we usually tried to see people who were in a position
to have news, and when we saw them we worked to get the news. Between
four and five o’clock the couriers came in by the west gate, and they
had to be met personally or by a trustworthy Chinaman in our service.
Last of all we wrote our telegrams and took them to the office at the
Chinese railway station. This apparently simple matter was sometimes
the most difficult part of the day’s work. When the river was hard
frozen and the weather fair, we went on a _piza_, that is, a pair of
sledge runners connected by some rough boards upon which a few reeds
are fastened. The sledge is propelled by a Chinaman who stands with
each foot on one runner and propels the contrivance with a boat hook.
In this way, the two miles, in most favourable circumstances, might be
accomplished in fifteen minutes. Then there was only the discomfort,
the terrible cold and the incessant jolting over the rough ice to be
endured but when the ice was bad, when there were cracks and pools to
be avoided, and the probability of the ice breaking at any moment, then
the journey had its dangers as well as discomforts. It might require
forty minutes, or more, and as happened more than once to myself, the
rider might slip through a crack in the ice and have an unrequired
ducking. The risks were always increased when the crossing was made in
the darkness, as ours were.
By way of variety one might walk across the ice, or even ride over on
horseback, or send a messenger. But the messenger could always be held
up by a European, and the message be read before it was returned to
him. Another way, if we were in time, was to post our messages across
the river through the Imperial Chinese Post Office.
When the river broke, great masses of packed ice and large floes
floated up and down stream for weeks. The only possible way to cross
then was by boat; a strong sampan hauled and pushed through the loose
ice by three to half a dozen men--that done in the darkness was as
unpleasant as it was dangerous. It was very slow, often requiring
hours, and with tide and ice both against the boat almost impossible.
The cost of the ferry instead of being the usual few cents amounted to
dollars. Etzel on the night of March 27 had to pay seven dollars to be
ferried across with his message; I was the last correspondent to cross
the ice on a _piza_ and the first to be ferried over the river in a
boat, and the highest charge I had to pay was six dollars for a ferry
after dark.
With the despatch of the telegram our day’s work was over, and that
of the next began. There was the crossing of the river to be made
again, people to be interviewed, and when the tired correspondent got
to bed, he might be disturbed by the noise of passing artillery or
troops--movements we deemed it a part of our duty to watch--of rifle
fire, even the booming of big guns. One morning I was aroused at two
o’clock by a knocking at my door and the startling information that the
expected bombardment of Newchwang had at last commenced. I was out in
the dark, in the salt marshes, tumbling into mudholes and tiring myself
needlessly until daybreak. It was a false alarm. The Russians mistook
a pilot’s flare on the bar for the enemy, and fired so furiously that
they sunk a helpless Chinese junk with thirty-five hands, killed three
men and wounded seven on another, and succeeded in working the native
population into a state of panic.
By unflagging energy and unceasing vigilance we were able to keep
ourselves _au courant_ with local changes and passing events in our
immediate neighbourhood. This was insufficient. We wished to be
informed as to the progress of the war. Many rumours reached us of
the propinquity of the Japanese forces, and as the Russians would not
permit us to wander beyond the neighbouring villages we were forced to
rely upon native newsmongers.
Messrs. Bush Bros. had agents and correspondents throughout Southern
Manchuria, and such news as they received they generously placed at
the disposal of all newspaper representatives. Generally this news
was ahead of that which reached Newchwang by other means, and as
often as any it was correct. But it was insufficient in detail, and
too irregular in appearance to satisfy all needs of impatient news
correspondents. We determined to have our own men investigating, and
our own messengers. I do not know what arrangements Etzel made. My
relations were with two respectable business men in the town, both
Englishmen, and neither acquainted with what the other was doing in
the matter. Both had an intimate knowledge of Chinese methods, one
was the most proficient Anglo-Chinaman in the country, and they, if
any, knew where to get trustworthy Chinese and how to deal with them
advantageously. Both sent out men in different directions. These men
wrote back what they saw on their journey, and their letters were
posted to Newchwang or conveyed by messengers. They were written in
Chinese, and had to be translated on arrival.
Here are some extracts from the letters of Kongkwang-tsa, who left
Yingkow for the Yalu, on the 27th of the first moon: “I see four
Russian guns at Yuan-Pao mountain; I see many troops of Russians there;
I see guns at An-chu, and troops; and troops at mouth, at Chang-tien,
and 700 at Takushan, and 800 at Talung-kow. There was bobbery; the
merchants of Antung-Hsien district have been pleased that Magistrate
Kao has suppressed rioting. I see twenty li from Hsiu-yen, twenty
Russian carts, with men and material--there they put up a telegraph. I
go to----”
From another: “Near Fen shui huan I meet blacksmith; he tell me Russian
messenger pass his forge every day. I go Yalu, at Chala cheng; I see
all Russians cross river; I see Japanese spies, see Japanese troops.”
And this from another correspondent: “I see one or two Japanese
soldiers; Russians see many. Suddenly see many Japanese soldiers; look
again, but none there. Went ----; there Russian soldier cross Yalu
river, come back this side. He no wait. He go thirty in small sampan;
no can; boat lost; Russian man all lost. Russian man take big boat;
make him very full; big boat lost; only one Russian man come this side.
Russian man take another big boat, make too much full; Russian man all
drown. Russian man no can wait.”
In the hurried crossing of the Yalu after the battle of Pin-yang, more
than three hundred Russians were lost at this ferry.
The following are of later date (May 2): “The Russians have posted
everywhere placards explaining away the advance northwards of the
Japanese troops who crossed the Yalu, and give accounts of the
successes the Russians have gained in fighting the Japanese army
elsewhere, and saying that soon they will attack and drive back the
Japanese far from these places, for Russia is strong. The Chinese do
not believe these placards, because the Japanese are every day coming
farther and farther into the country.”
Then I received accounts of the landing of Japanese troops at Takushan;
and at Pitsewo, and acting in conjunction with the force landed at
Kinchow, on the other side of the peninsula, succeeded in cutting the
line, and isolating Port Arthur. Here the forces joined, captured a
train from Port Arthur; stopped another, but allowed it to proceed when
the Red Cross flag was shown, and tried ineffectually to stop it again
by rifle fire when they found they had been deceived, and that it was
the special train used by Admiral Alexeiev. It was known afterwards
that both H.I.H. the Grand Duke Boris and H.E. the Viceroy were in the
train, and narrowly escaped capture. The Japanese have never ceased
blaming themselves for their laxity in allowing this train to pass
them. We got news of the Japanese movements, of the forward rush of the
Takushan army after the battle of Puliantien, but it must be stated
that the cross marching of the Japanese between Takushan and Kinchow
completely baffled the Chinese reporters. They were marching towards
Tashichiao not Kaiping, and keeping to the east of the railway instead
of taking the shorter route to Newchwang.
This scheme of newsgetting worked excellently for some weeks. The
agents went right on to the Yalu, and fell back as the invasion of
Manchuria progressed, and they reported intelligently and frequently.
On the whole matters went well until the agents got shot, or were taken
prisoner, or wanted to come home, or were recalled.
In addition to all this, there were Chinese constantly arriving in
Newchwang from Port Arthur, Dalny, and other places where fighting
was going on, and these always had some news to sell--something which
if not worth telegraphing, was worth knowing. The American consulate
was a great centre for news and for newspaper men, both British and
American, but the British consulate was like a shooting man’s fox
coverts, always drawn blank. It was MacCullagh of the _New York Herald_
who first discovered a new variety of lady missionary from the north
who had a fund of entertaining conversation and plenty of interesting
information, so, quite outside of the usual official channels, we had
numerous sources of news and spent much time in collecting the best.
The newspaper correspondents themselves were, often without intending
it, the most frequent cause of my troubles. Only once did I call upon
the Russian administrator; it was a small matter of routine business he
had to adjust for me, and he volunteered the information incidentally
that in a few days he thought it would be his duty--he did not qualify
it with “unpleasant”--his duty, to order me out of Newchwang. As a
matter of fact I stopped long enough to see him turned out--by the
Japanese. I thought it advisable to keep quiet for a few days, for I
was not ready just then to pass out of the Russian lines.
At this critical juncture I had a disturbing message from Dr. Morrison:
“Greener, Yingkow.--Japanese Legation disbelieves Carter’s story and
proximity forces.” The Russian authorities inspected all our telegrams,
and for it to be known to them that what I sent was submitted to the
Japanese at Peking did not improve my position or make it easier for me
to extract news from Russians in authority.
The next disturbing incident was far more easily settled. One morning
an officer from H.M.S. _Espiègle_ came to me post haste to know what I
meant by a telegram in the _Times_ of February 17, then just received
in Newchwang. I had my horse saddled and rode up the river bank to the
gunboat’s dock, when the following was read to me:--
“YINGKAU, _February 16_.*
“The Civil Administrator of Newchwang with his family is
proceeding to Tientsin. He has been making every effort
to arrest the Russian soldiers guilty of offences against
foreigners, and has assured Mr. Miller, the United States
Consul, and Commanders Barton and Sawyer of the British sloop
_Espiègle_ and the American gunboat _Helena_ against whom
menacing demonstrations have been made, that full reparation
shall be made.”
“What of it?” I asked.
“There has been no menacing demonstration, therefore no reparation can
be made--that is all.”
“Not quite,” I answered. “If you will look you will see an asterisk
after the date, and at the bottom of the column you are informed that
it is a Reuter’s message. You have called the wrong man.”
It was too much to expect me to be answerable for what was sent to
the paper by the news agencies, but soon afterwards I was called to
book over a paragraph in a message sent from Peking on March 4, and
published in the _Times_ of March 7, as follows:--
“All the coal supply at Newchwang has been purchased by the
Russians, including 22,000 tons belonging to the chief British
firm. A contract was signed on the very eve of the war, when
war was assured. Delivery is not yet complete, and has been
taking place daily ever since the war began. The Russians speak
favourably of the assistance thus rendered at a critical time,
when coal was urgently needed for the Manchurian railway, by a
British firm, who, unless the port is blockaded, can presumably
render equally valuable service in the future by importing food
stuffs for the Russian troops.”
This is with reference to a matter which Dr. Morrison might have stated
differently. In the first place _all_ the coal stocks at Newchwang were
not then purchased: in April the late United States Marshal sold some
large parcels, and there were others. The 22,000 tons of Kaiping dust
formed a portion of a consignment from the Chinese Engineering and
Mining Company. It was in Newchwang, which was ice-bound. That coal,
and all other supplies in store, could have been commandeered by the
Russians after the war began under the martial law they proclaimed.
The Russian authorities would not buy the dust from the British firm
of Bush Bros., who sold it before the war to the Danish East-Asiatic
Company, a Copenhagen firm of shipowners and traders, from whom the
Russians acquired that portion which was being delivered when Dr.
Morrison was at Newchwang. The Russians may have spoken favourably of
the assistance thus rendered by a British firm--which was avowedly,
openly and consistently pro-Japanese throughout--but I never heard
them, though I did hear many abuse the firm very often. The Russian
authorities showed their appreciation by _not buying_ food stuffs
from Messrs. Bush, who had them at a time the Russians wanted them
badly, and Mr. McGlew, a member of the firm and brother-in-law of
its principal, was the only foreign resident the Russian authorities
requested to leave Newchwang. The firm had to dispense with his
services until the Japanese occupation of the treaty port had been
effected.
The war provoked correspondents into making mistakes, the most careful
and capable were at times at fault, and those who trusted to official
information probably more often than any. Only the agencies can reveal
how many times their distraught correspondents have telegraphed in such
manner as--“Kill dispatch, given officially but untrue.” “Suppress
after ---- last message, official now untalk.”
Obtaining an exact and truthful account of any occurrence even from
an eye-witness of the event is a matter of great difficulty, as Sir
Walter Raleigh experienced, but the difficulty is exceedingly great
with reference to all things connected with the war, as every informant
is more or less biassed in favour of one of the belligerents. Sift,
and probe, and examine, and compare as carefully as we might, we
were rarely quite satisfied that we had the real unvarnished plain
statement of fact. On the few occasions we did succeed we did not
always get credited even. I know that once I met a man of learning
and position, one of the best informed, most intelligent and highly
respected foreign residents in Vladivostok. He was on his way from
that town to communicate something of importance to his Legation at
Peking. We had long been acquainted, and although, as he explained,
he could not give me all the information he had about Vladivostok yet
he would give me something of general interest respecting the recent
Japanese bombardment of that port, and of the extent of the damages.
Part of that information I cabled home at once--to be informed curtly
from Peking, “You are not justified in wasting _Times’_ money upon wild
reports reaching you from Vladivostok.”
The newspaper men had no opportunities for lotus eating in the
wilderness of Newchwang, but some of them had not enough of danger
there to satisfy them and must needs seek extra risks by attempting
extraordinary adventures. There was Colonel Emerson, an American, who
with insufficient papers pushed on to the Russian headquarters at
Liaoyang, and there got his marching orders to proceed home by way
of Moscow and report himself to the authorities at Mukden, Harbin
and other places _en route_. He went as far as Mukden, did not report
himself, but got carried through the Russian lines to Hsinmintun by
one of the Chinamen in the employ of Bush Brothers, a man who has
rendered other correspondents signal service but whose identity must
not be revealed as long as any are liable to need his assistance. The
Russians, missing Emerson, concluded that he must have tried to escape
and consequently must be dead, for nobody _could_ pass out of the
Russian lines. So his death was reported in the _Harbinski Viedomosti_,
and the authorities telegraphed in Emerson’s name for his effects to
be forwarded to Mukden. As it happened, Emerson, who had not sent the
telegram, was back again in Newchwang at the time.
There was another American who determined to go from Newchwang to Port
Arthur in a junk, and told so many people about it that the junk was
stopped; and there was Etzel, who did get away, but only to be shot
before he was out of Chinese waters. That disastrous termination put an
end to similar enterprises, but only for a time.
In Newchwang we had General Kondoratovich, the youngest man of his
rank in the army. The Commandant of our division was a good type of
officer, intrepid, resourceful, open-hearted and open-handed; the
correspondents just made him tired, but he was always courteous to
them. He was a free liver, absolutely disregardful of public opinion
and capable of minding his own affairs and of guarding Russian
interests.
Newchwang was also visited by General Linevich, the leader of the
Russian expedition to Peking; by the Commander-in-Chief General
Kuropatkin, who reviewed the local troops numbering about 6,000, and
decided that the port must be evacuated. Newchwang was also visited
by the Grand Duke Boris, who viewed its defences, inspected the port,
and after being bored by the authorities as a matter of duty was fêted
by them as a token of their esteem, and enjoyed himself in his usual
manner.
On Palm Sunday, March 27, the authorities suddenly announced that the
treaty port of Newchwang was under martial law. All residents must
remain within the gates of the town; the Russian settlement, Niuchatun,
and other villages in the suburbs were out of bounds, and not to be
visited without special permission. The Chinese railway station in
neutral territory could be visited between sunrise and sunset; during
the hours of darkness all river traffic was prohibited. The Chinese,
who, until that day, if they were found after dark without carrying a
lantern were fined, were fined now if they had a lantern, or if the
least glimmer of light showed through their doors, windows, or cracks
in the walls of their compound.
All the foreign consuls with the exception of the British acquiesced
in the order. The British consul would not do so without instructions
of the British Minister at Peking to whom he had referred the matter,
and who, naturally, never gave instructions. It was a mere verbal
quibble, all British subjects were advised to accept the situation;
the protection of the consuls could indeed be claimed, but as they
had relinquished their power, their consulates were no longer legal
sanctuaries for their own nationals.
The work of correspondents was made more difficult; and they were
regarded with increased suspicion by the authorities. Colonel Telshin
and Lt.-Col. Dabovsky were appointed censors, and the Chinese Imperial
Railway Telegraph offices were placed in charge of Mr. Pancheka, who
had with him a commissioned officer and a squad of Cossacks.
It cannot be said that the regulations were severe, or that they
pressed heavily upon the foreign residents. As with all Russian
ordinances there was laxity in enforcing the provisions of the
proclamation. The correspondents found certain liberties curtailed. We
certainly did ride out without permits to Russia-town, the flats by
the forts, and to different villages. Sometimes we were stopped by a
sentinel, but more often than not passed unchallenged. Only once, when
I was re-entering by the south gate from a ride to the fort, did the
guard go so far as to stop me by seizing my bridle. I urged the horse
forward, and the bold man went with her a short way, then he and his
rifle fell to the earth. I went on, expecting a shot to be fired after
me, but hearing only the loud laughter of the guards at their comrade’s
discomfiture.
The censorship was somewhat of a nuisance. Etzel submitted a test
message which the censor obligingly amended: the revised copy was
presented and passed, but it was not sent, for the message which went
was of quite different import and uncensored. There were also ways of
getting a censor’s stamp and signature on a blank form, or by writing
in or altering the censored message, news of a somewhat different
character could be substituted. But there were so many ways of getting
news out without the authorities knowing of it, that troubling the
censor was quite unnecessary, and done only in order to keep on good
terms with the officials.
The order against crossing the river was the most irksome restriction.
The bank was patrolled, and the sentinels fired at whatever they saw
moving, and inquired afterwards. When there was good cause to cross
over, a permit could be obtained, and the passenger took the risk;
or even a ferry could be obtained in one of the official launches,
the privileged boats, which were not fired upon. There were no steam
launches or tug-boats in private hands.
We did not often ask for special permits from the authorities, because
we did not care to be constantly worrying them, and because if the
official happened to be asleep, or obfuscated, there were delays,
and the attendants rather expected that something unusual would be
attempted, and the guards thus made unusually alert. We went up the
river beyond the guard boat, and down it below the fort; sometimes I
was challenged, generally not, and the restrictions were only a subject
to grumble at openly, and ignore in secret. By taking my horse across
the river and working the opposite bank I was never subjected to any
annoyance or question, and I crossed beyond the prescribed limits
whenever I wished. Still, it was not easy to get the Chinese boatmen to
contravene the regulations. Once when it was necessary for me to cross
from Liao-tse to the town in the night, I had to go to the village
opium joint, seize a sampan man, drag him to the water-edge, put him
in the sampan and push it off into the stream myself, then set him to
scull the boat across. Of course he grumbled, and worked hard and in
mortal fear, but no shot was fired that time. At others we were shot
at, and over, but luckily not fired upon.
Finding by experience that when I answered the sentinel’s challenge
with the usual pass-word “Svoi” (literally, “self-same” = friend)
it invariably led to further questioning and vexatious delay whilst
explaining my business, I asked a Russian official how I could avoid
the annoyance.
“Oh, say ‘K’chortu’ (to the devil), I always do.” That never failed me.
We had our little worries day by day. Whenever we needed roubles, they
were at a big premium in Newchwang, when we wanted Mexican dollars
roubles were at a discount, and as Mexicans were not forthcoming we
were loaded up with Pei-yang coins, Kirin currency and small money,
whilst the fiction of the Haikwan tael was rammed down our throats,
and was as hard to swallow as stories of Russian successes on the
field of battle. An American journalist got no war news worth a cent,
but of his experiences he made an article on the “financial pirates
of the east,” which justified the expense his paper incurred by his
expedition. One correspondent thought it was time to learn Russian, and
having got the one word “Good-day” at the end of his tongue, he tried
it upon the first sentry who challenged him. There followed a one-sided
conversation, the sentry becoming choleric and the correspondent
answering “Good-day” calmly to every phrase the other uttered. Another
bought a pair of English riding boots across the river and carried
them home. Wrapping-up paper was not procurable, and the correspondent
with his boots attracted the attention of the police. As he was unable
to explain matters, either in Chinese or Russian, he had difficulty
in continuing his journey homeward. If the police had known how many
pairs of riding boots that correspondent had in his room, they would
undoubtedly have considered themselves justified in detaining him
indefinitely.
There was one correspondent, representing a journal of world-wide
renown, who whenever he got into a difficulty never gave his name,
but always that of his paper. Riding along the native bund one day,
his pony seized some carrots from the stall of a Chinese market man
and munched them. The correspondent tendered some money, but he was
mobbed by the Chinese and Russians, and the police wanted some other
explanation than _Weekly Post_, which he kept on repeating. As he told
the story: “Sure, Greener, there’s nae body heerd o’ the _Weekly Post_
in these parts, and I made bould to mintion your peeper,--wi’ nae’
bitter effect. Then I sae ain o’ those enamelled signs o’ the _Daily
Telegraph’s_; it’s just bent round a forge fire. An’ I went to’t, and
tapped it with me whip, and signed wi’ my hands that I was it. But they
wouldna’ understand! I think maybe they thought I wanted the sign just
as my pony wanted the carrots, an’ I doant nae what might have happened
me had na’ one o’ the coostoms men passed by and exthricated me. Sich
fules! What is’t you say for War Correspondent? Eh? Say it again.”
Busy bodies amongst the Russian officials hauled down the American flag
from the correspondents’ mess, and wished to remove the British ensign
from their compound. They had to be made re-hoist one and allow both
to remain. Then there were foreign residents who thought Newchwang the
centre of the universe, and believed that through the correspondents
the people of the British Empire could be made to take a real interest
in the protection of their private property in Newchwang. And in this
wise were we kept occupied, and whilst seemingly devoted to these
things, or apparently idling, and waiting, and holding ourselves at the
pleasure of our Russian authorities, we were forced to make time in
which to do our real work unknown and unobserved.
CHAPTER VIII
In Neutral Territory
There is a portion of the Chinese Empire outside the Great Wall which
was tacitly regarded by both Russians and Japanese as beyond the
legitimate sphere of war. It lies west of the Liao, and extends to the
Mongolian boundary. Its length is about 250 miles, and its greatest
width less than a hundred; the eastern portion comprises much of the
Liao plain, swampy land, with barren stretches and salt-pans in the
south, and well cultivated grain lands in the north. On the west are
the Hai mountains, a chain of rugged rocks with fertile slopes and
excellent corn and grazing ground, where they rise from the plain.
Nominally, this territory is governed by Chinese authorities; actually
it is domineered by Russian troops foraging for supplies, by Japanese
agents, and by the chiefs of independent mountain villages, whose
inhabitants are usually regarded as robbers, bandits, Redbeards, or
Hunghuses.
The Imperial Chinese Railway has a line running north from Shanhaikwan
to Hsinmintun, with a branch east from the main line at Kaopantze
to Yingkow. The railway has British subjects superintending the
engineering, traffic, locomotive, and construction departments; but it
has a board of Chinese directors, and is essentially and actually a
Chinese railway run by and for the Chinese. You step into a vestibuled
dining-car on the mail train: you note the automatic couplings,
the bogie waggons, the large grain trucks, and read that all are
constructed in China, at the company’s own workshops. You see Chinese
engine-drivers, station-masters, pointsmen, brakesmen, and telegraph
clerks, and you may be on that train for hours, running smoothly at
forty miles an hour, and be the only European, not only on the train,
but at and about the stations at which it stops. The trains are
punctual, but they do not run at night, for the simple reason that
Chinese passengers will not travel in darkness; so the working day is
from 7 to 7, unless emergency trains are necessary. This railway is
excellently managed, and it is perhaps the only real controlling factor
in the government of the neutral territory. At each station there is a
guard of from ten to forty of the Viceroy Yuan-shi-kai’s soldiers. They
are fine men, in clean, neat uniforms; they carry small-bore Mauser
magazine rifles and sword bayonets; they have plenty of ammunition and
get their pay regularly. A detachment will fall into line and stand to
attention on the arrival and departure of each passenger train. In wet
weather they wear long oilskin coats and sou’westers; when they don
these slickers they invariably leave their weapons at home. At many
stations there is, in addition, a guard of soldiers from the regular
standing army, mostly from General Ma’s force, but they are armed only
with old-fashioned rifles, and are not nearly so smart as the others,
but doubtless are as good fighters.
The railway running parallel to the Russian west flank, and
communicating with their posts at both Yingkow and Hsinmintun, it could
be of great service to them as a means of communication, and also for
the conveyance of supplies; if it were in the hands of their enemies,
the Russian positions from Yingkow to Kaiyuen would be jeopardized.
They could not control the line absolutely unless they seized it from
the Chinese. Its neutrality was their only safeguard; and if regarded
by them as neutral, then its usefulness was lessened. That the railway
was untouched by either of the belligerents is in a large measure due
to the firm diplomacy of Mr. Cox, the superintendent at Yingkow, who
in difficult circumstances maintained the independence of the railway
corporation and satisfied both the Russians and Japanese that strict
neutrality could be and was always observed.
Contraband of war could not be conveyed through neutral territory, and
in order that there might not be any mistake as to what was contraband,
the Chinese authorities scheduled almost everything. Hogs’ bristles, I
think, were the only notable exception. The Russian officials did not
object to anything conveyed, so long as it was intended for the Russian
army, but the Japanese objected, and their agents kept a close watch on
everything and everybody going north from Shanhaikwan; all the same the
Russians smuggled with success.
Then an attempt was made by the Russians to obtain their object by
legitimate means. The Russian doctor in charge of the Red Cross
establishments supposed he was right in believing that supplies for the
Red Cross hospitals were not in any circumstances to be regarded as
contraband of war. The railway authorities confirmed him in the belief.
He wanted 120,000 fire-bricks and a thousand tons of fire-clay. Now,
these bricks and such clay make excellent facings to fortresses, and
were contraband of war. But, if he wanted them? He would not get them.
Then after dusk one evening some trucks, filled high with bales of
hogs’ bristles, arrived at Yingkow, and they were shunted down to the
wharf. Something about these bales attracted the attention of one of
the English inspectors: he made a closer examination, and discovered
that the hogs’ bristles concealed cases of ammunition. Those trucks
went back before daylight broke and before the consignee knew they had
arrived.
At Shanhaikwan, when suspected goods had to be examined, or refused,
or confiscated, the work fell invariably to one or other of the young
railway guards, all time-expired, short-service men from the British
army. The Chinese officials will never face a determined European. I
doubt whether they ever will acquire the courage to do so.
One day a Russian political agent, known to every one on the line,
arrived with a lot of baggage he was taking north on the morrow. Some
of the contents of his luggage had been manufactured in France, its
shipment had been notified by a Japanese agent, and its subsequent
movements followed with fidelity; now, when within a few hours’ journey
of the Russian lines, was it to be stopped by a British stripling? The
great man expostulated, threatened and fumed to no purpose. He went
on without his luggage, complaining to every railway official he met
of the absurdity of seizing his uniforms. He could not appear before
the Viceroy Alexeiev dressed like a British tourist! Everyone promised
to do what they could in order to get that baggage sent forward, and
the diplomat even communicated with Peking, so sad was his plight. In
the course of a few days the decisive answer came; the gentleman could
_not_ have his war balloon. Shortly afterwards a dispirited French
aeronaut took his way south.
The smugglers of provisions, wines, and delicacies for the Russian
officers travelled to and fro so often that they became known, and were
suspected and stopped. There were many genuine refugees using the line;
they came from Port Arthur and Dalny, and wanted to get back to Russia.
They had always a lot of baggage with them; but as this was going
towards China it did not matter. Some of these parties were personally
conducted by an Orthodox priest. After a time Russian refugees began to
arrive from China; they had come from Port Arthur and Dalny, and were
wanting to get back to Russia by the Tashichiao route. They also were
unkempt, had plenty of baggage, and were often accompanied by a Russian
priest. One day a surprise examination was sprung upon these refugees
bound north, with the result that no owners could be found for heaps of
luggage, all more or less contraband of war.
As a rule all the Russians at Yingkow were courteous to the British
passing through, and to the few British residents, all of whom were
connected with the railway service. One night a British officer dressed
in _mufti_ came from Shanhaikwan. There were about a dozen at dinner
that evening, and later the officer joined our company, and we talked
of the war and its prospects. There were no Russian officials present,
but one of the guests was a Russian, and so frequently a visitor that I
suspected him, and warned the officer. He returned to Shanhaikwan early
the next morning. Later that day the Russian guards made a thorough
search of the settlement, believing him to be still in hiding amongst
us. During this quite Russian domiciliary visit, one of the soldiers
lingered too long in the bedroom of one of the railway men, who became
impatient, and told him to go. The man would not, so the Briton threw
him and his rifle not only out of the house, but through the fence of
the compound. Shortly afterwards an officer with a guard arrested the
Briton, and took him to Newchwang, where an interpreter was found. They
brought the Briton before the administrator, and endeavoured to impress
upon him the enormity of his offence: to touch a soldier was to touch
the Tsar. What had he to say? The old soldier thought it time to plead
guilty.
“I can only say I’m sorry I killed him; I did not intend that.”
“Killed him? You haven’t killed him; he is there! Look!”
“I don’t seem to have hurt him. Ask him, please, if I hurt him?”
The soldier was asked: if he had been hurt, he would not have owned to
it, and he laughed at the suggestion, and denied it emphatically.
“Then why am I here?” asked the Briton.
“Oh! go away, all of you--don’t bother me with such little matters.”
The incident closed, and never after that was there any trouble between
British and Russians on the Yingkow side.
Out in the east, when top-dog, the Briton is bad, but the Russian much
worse, as the Chinese are well aware. Sometimes I would ride out alone
through villages in this neutral territory, and as I galloped towards
the group of trees by the temple, I would see in the distance women,
children, and men hurrying into their compounds and barring the gates.
The village streets and the cultivated land surrounding the village
would be deserted by the time I arrived. Not a living soul would be
seen--only the black pigs routing in the mud, and the half-wild village
dogs walking along the mud walls and barking loudly. If I rode straight
through, and, after going a little way, looked back, I saw the people
coming out and staring after me. If I pulled up on the lee side of
one of their wretched mud dwellings, took out my pipe and filled it,
then smoked, some bold man would put out his head and say, “Yingwa,”
whereon a crowd of the inquisitive would gather rapidly and gaze at me
wonderingly. There is no fear of the English; the Russians are beheld
with terror by these simple villagers, who have lost much through their
depredations.
The first time I stayed in a Chinese inn up in this country I was
surprised at the consideration shown to Englishmen. The innkeeper
sent one of his men to conduct me to the place I wished to visit,
and men with lanterns to bring me back safely. They fed me well,
pressed me to take cocoa--the only English food he possessed--gave me
cigars, provided me with a private room--a luxury in small country
inns--arranged with a carter to convey me on the next stage of my
journey, and absolutely refused to accept any payment. I was, he
said, the first Englishman to visit his inn, and that was honour. His
servants also refused to accept gratuities--for the same reason.
That was north, a country possessing great agricultural wealth. The
district is but a score miles from the Imperial cattle reserve, and the
supply is so great as to appear illimitable. Naturally, the Russians
have been drawing upon it for their increased needs. But they have lost
ground in this territory, as they have where the Japanese have attacked
them. Amongst my notes of February, I have: “Three hundred Cossacks
from Liaoyang crossed the Liao plain, and rode to the mountains.
They visited I-chow and Kuan-ning, then by way of Tung-na-ku and
Hsiao-hei-shan went to Lao-ta-tsu, where a post is established.” This
town was in the southern district much nearer established Chinese
authority than is Hsinmintun. At the end of April the Cossacks had
commenced to denude the country of cattle, going out in troops of
fifty, each accompanied by a Chinese interpreter. Each troop considered
it an unlucky day when a bullock apiece had not been captured. The
Russians also requisitioned cattle from the Tartar generals, and if
sufficient were not forthcoming, at once renewed their demand for all
the Chinese troops in the Fengtien province to be disarmed.
The Chinese of these parts were simply bullied by the Russians into
parting with everything they possessed, and their Chinese officials
were dispossessed of the little authority which had been allowed to
remain. The same harsh rule was applied in even greater force in the
north, and the Tartar general at Kirin is supposed either to have
died of broken heart, or to have committed suicide in order to avoid
dishonour.
Another note of mine of much later date shows a different state of
affairs in this neutral territory. In August thirty Cossacks were seen
near Hsiao, riding two on each pony; two miles behind a force of about
three hundred bandits were in hot pursuit.
To obtain further meat supplies the Russians purchased at Kulan Fair
and Ha-lao, on the Mongolian frontier. In neutral territory they seldom
paid for their supplies, merely gave a receipt for the beasts they took
away, and sometimes tied that to the horns of the cattle driven into
the Russian lines. The extent of the enormous traffic may be judged
from the fact, that as many as a thousand head of cattle have been
delivered in Mukden in one day from the Hsinmintun road alone.
The villagers were powerless to protect their property, so bought the
aid of the hill men, all of whom are more or less engaged in horse and
cattle dealing. Hence after the raids, there were counter raids and
border warfare. The hill men number between fifty and eighty thousand,
and from them soldiers are recruited. Their leaders are all known to
the Chinese government, at least by name; some have been and some
still are in government service, acting as independent police for the
protection of the frontier and for the purpose of preventing cattle
raids.
The conditions were bad before the war began; they have since grown
increasingly worse. Russian outposts were attacked, and had to be
abandoned, and with the exception of the road between Hsinmintun and
Mukden, which the Russians must keep open to get through supplies from
China, it is doubtful if there are now any Russian soldiers stationed
in neutral territory. The hill men grew bolder as the Japanese
successes followed each other, and in the summer they agreed upon
common action and scoured the country, driving the Russians before them
and killing all whom they could capture.
At first they had their own leaders, two of whom I met, but latterly
they have been organized and commanded by Japanese, who wear Chinese
dress, and have queues fastened inside their caps. The hill men are now
an irregular force of raiders, quite free from Chinese control, and are
being used to annoy the Russians, and where possible to break up the
line, hinder railway communications, and hamper the Russians in getting
through food supplies from Mongolia.
They are all well armed, mostly with modern German magazine rifles.
They lead a wild, free life, preying on those villagers who will not
employ them, upon well-to-do native travellers and traders, and most
of all upon the Russians, for a Hunghus is as proud of having slain a
Russian soldier as an American Indian was of a Sioux scalp.
For Chinamen they may be considered brave, that is to say, when they
are superior in numbers, about five to one,--they will attack openly
Russians conveying cattle, and they are sufficiently daring to make
night attacks on villages known to be harbouring Chinese who favour
their foes. In no circumstances would they make such attacks as the
Japanese have made at Port Arthur, Tashichiao and Liaoyang.
The Russian political agent to Mongolia, a Siberian named Gromov,
whom I met in Harbin and at Port Arthur, has been trying through his
Mongolian acquaintances to win over some of these Chinese hill men of
the north to the Russian side, but apparently without any success.
The bandits attacked Tehling, got away with some stores, and set fire
to more, but in my opinion their finest recorded exploit is their
successful attack on the Russian gunboat _Sivouch_, which, in order
to escape the Japanese, went up the Liao to Estahbien on high spring
tides. The _Sivouch_, an old vessel of 943 tons register, steamed down
to Liao bar when H.M.S. _Espiègle_ arrived from Chenwantao to render
assistance to British residents, and, according to the Chinese version
current, drove the British warship away. The Hunghuses attacked by
night, firing upon her at short range from the high _kowliang_ growing
on the banks, and from behind the many embankments made in that
district to keep flood-water off the land. Each night the attack became
more serious; the rifle bullets pierced the ship’s sides, and she was
then blown up and sunk by her crew, who escaped by way of old Newchwang
to Liaoyang.
When the Japanese, three days later, sent their gunboat up the river to
engage her, they found only a newspaper correspondent in possession,
and with him a number of Chinese soldiers intended for her protection.
The Japanese arrested the correspondent, and gave him a passage on
their vessel down the river, but not before he had managed to acquire
and secrete the gilded Imperial Eagle from her bows as a souvenir of
his excursion.
The homes of these hill men are up in the mountain fastnesses, to which
there are only rough paths up which their sturdy Mongolian ponies will
scramble at a fair pace. Many of their leaders ride on donkeys, and
Wang, one of the smartest, when last I met him, was riding a fine dark
brown jackass, which, he informed me, he would not exchange for any
pony in the country. In Manchuria and North China the richest men ride
mules, and ordinarily a good saddle mule is worth more money than a
pony of equal quality.
The Hunghus towns and villages are surrounded with a low wall, have
gates, and small forts with jingals at frequent intervals, commanding
all the approaches. It is one of the ordinances of China that even
every village must have its surrounding wall. Though this fence may be
of mud and only a few feet high, without gates, and used as a promenade
in muddy weather, it nevertheless exists. In some of the villages on
the plain the walls also have forts; these forts have cannon about as
large and very much of the shape of an old blunderbus barrel. And there
is always a diminutive flag over the fort, whose walls and moat, or
trench, there is not a correspondent’s waler could not jump easily,
and a clever horse would jump both in and out of the fort, as an Irish
horse jumps a stone wall. The forts are just such toys as enterprising
boys make on the sea-beach for their amusement, and of no greater
military importance.
The strength of the Hunghuses lies in their bravery; they do not fear
their own countrymen; of foreigners they have a wholesome dread.
The Russians were so uneducated they knew not what to do, nor what to
want. Ordinarily you could pass through their lines with ease. When it
was difficult, or the correspondent too lazy, a Chinaman was employed.
One I sent into the fort to see what was being done there, to find out
how many guns were in position and what they were. He was an educated
man, but passed in as a coolie, and as a coolie was detained until he
had done a day’s work with the others.
There was a spy who wished to get plans of the fort and of the
fortifications around it. He stayed in a Chinese village near by, went
in and out and about; hid when necessary in the hollows where Chinese
coffins have fallen in on the corpses, and when hard pressed he came
back to Yingkow. The authorities, aided by their English secretary,
were after him there, but it did not suit the correspondents to have
one who had posed as of their profession to be caught thus red-handed.
He was hidden among Chinese in a riverside village, and as the train
was searched for him every morning, he had to get underneath one of the
cars before dawn, and hang on to the gear there until the train reached
the next station.
This was an exceptional case. Ordinarily the correspondent and
the Chinese helpers were equal to every occasion. For a monetary
consideration commensurate with the risk they ran, they would take the
correspondent almost anywhere. He got into a covered Peking cart, and
left the rest to his men. The cart would dawdle along when nearing a
Russian picket, until a number of native carts joined the procession.
At the post there would be a crowd; if you kept your cover down, other
Chinese carts with native passengers did so; whilst they were being
examined your driver contrived to get into the line of those passed as
correct. At most you wanted only two or three carts. Those in advance
acted as scouts, their drivers warning your carter what was happening
ahead. Success in spying depends not so much in ability to get out of
difficult situations as in having the good sense to avoid them.
For most of the mistakes the correspondents made they were themselves
to blame. The credulity with which they absorbed rumour was equalled
only by the avidity with which they sought news. Some might consider
their colleagues to be their worst enemies. One would ask another what
he thought of the serious position created by General Ma bringing
40,000 Chinese soldiers outside the Great Wall of China. He questioned
to get the speaker’s idea of the extent of the seriousness, not daring
to own that he had not received the news, or questioning the fact
itself. After a general talk all round, some one of the crowd was as
likely as not to wire off as news what was only an assumed state of
affairs. In this way the Japanese were reported to have torpedoed a
pilot boat, to have captured half South Manchuria before they left
Korea, and to have achieved numerous impossibilities.
The Russian officials were not guiltless. The cabling of a little false
news afforded them an excuse for being rid of a correspondent when his
presence was not desired. Trap after trap was set, and he was indeed
wary or inactive who escaped them all.
There was one item of somewhat sensational interest most adroitly
launched. An officer at Yingkow heard from two army officers who had
arrived from Liaoyang that an American newspaper correspondent, who had
gone there without having his papers in order, had sought refuge with a
countrywoman of his resident there, and that for harbouring him she had
been flogged by the order of the commander-in-chief. The alleged victim
was a Miss Alice Clery, who had been for some years in the Orient, and
was one of the few persons of American nationality who were heart and
soul with the Russians in their struggle against the Japanese. At Port
Arthur, in order to be with them, she had volunteered for Red Cross
work, and through the influence of friends on the Viceroy’s staff had
been found quarters at Liaoyang. That much was true, and it was also a
fact that the correspondent had made her acquaintance. The remainder
of the story was open to question. The manner in which it was started
was quite clever. In course of general conversation with a British
trader in Yingkow, a hint was dropped by an army officer that British
and American correspondents, and those who helped them, had not much
favour at the hands of General Kuropatkin. The man mentioned the fact
to a resident, who told me jocosely what I might expect. Thereupon I
interviewed the officer, who, most reluctantly, informed me of what
his brother officers had told him. He believed them. It was a possible
story. He did not, and could not, vouch for the facts, as he was not
at Liaoyang at the time, but he knew this, that, and the other which
corroborated everything he had been told. I went to the censor and
asked him to be good enough to straighten out the story, if I had the
details wrong. He had heard the officers tell the same story, heard
that the woman received twenty-five lashes, and had no reason to doubt
the statement at all. He deplored the occurrence, but it was not for
him to question any action of the commander-in-chief.
Here was a story which an American journalist could turn into a rousing
article--and it was vouched for sufficiently.
It lacked probability. Russian officers would not be guilty of such
barbarity. Sooner or later such an occurrence would be known, for
there were American military attachés and newspaper correspondents at
Liaoyang, and when it was known, the political consequences would be
such that any officer guilty of an act of that kind would have trouble.
For every offence, short of crime, which a foreigner of either sex
may commit the Russians have one penalty--the offender is banished
from Russian territory. It is a short and effective way out of many
difficulties, one unlikely to lead to a diplomatic incident or cause
future trouble. This report needed more evidence than hearsay to
substantiate an event so improbable, and the correspondents again saved
themselves.
Etzel had repeatedly suggested to me that by getting a junk we might
reach Kaiping or Port Adams or Port Arthur, and find out what the
Japanese were doing. It was a proposal I negatived. The risks were
greater than the results appeared to promise. He was very keen on the
scheme, and ultimately made the attempt in the company of the _Daily
Mail_ representative. A few days before he embarked he accompanied me
as far as Kaopantze, in the neutral territory, where he was getting
together the necessaries for his voyage. The matter was kept quite
secret. Instead of going to Messrs. Bush Bros., or Bandinel & Co.,
and having a junk and crew known on the river, or even obtaining the
protection of their house flag, he chartered through an Englishman
a small, light, fast-sailing junk of the type known locally as “sea
swallows”; it also resembles unfortunately some of the piratical
craft with which the waterways are infested. At the last moment he
was implored not to go, and almost persuaded. He seemed to have a
presentiment of approaching catastrophe. One of his friends bidding
him good-bye said he never expected to see him alive again, so he woke
up that friend between three and four the next morning to reassure
him of his mistake. Then he started--taciturn, glum and oppressed with
foreboding.
At first all went well, but long before the “sea swallow” was out of
Chinese waters the strange craft was sighted by soldier guards on the
watch for pirates, smugglers and blockade runners. These guards bore
down on the vessel and in Oriental fashion fired first and inquired
afterwards. They were informed that there were foreigners on board,
and they hastened away. But the deed had been done. Etzel, whilst
performing his duty, had been killed accidentally in a volley fired
from behind by men with whom he had no quarrel, by men who would have
risked their lives to save his.
CHAPTER IX
Consuls, Correspondents and Others
Every British subject who attempts any business in China is handicapped
by the apathy of British consuls to individual interests. Owing to
their training they seem to live in a different atmosphere to that
inhabited by the ordinary residents in the treaty ports, are shut off
from the ideals of the people of the settlement in which they live,
have aspirations of quite a dissimilar character, and are absolutely
out of touch with the more enterprising of their own nationals.
For them, the individual, unless he be an offender, does not exist.
They serve some abstract creation of their own imagination, to which
they give the name of Crown, or British empire; their objects in life
appear to be the possession of a mastery over the Chinese language,
and some practice in diplomatic pursuits. They are always gentlemen,
usually men of brains, and occasionally men possessing some force of
character. But they belong to a well-defined high social caste; they
are sinologues, and so full of Chinese, that not only their sympathies,
but their proclivities even, are tinged with the tone pervading the
Celestial empire.
There are no consulates in China possessing the aloofness which
characterizes the British; all Consuls but the British consider
the needs of the individual out in China; they guard the interests
of their nationals, and do all they possibly can to push ahead
their enterprises, and so help the individual to become wealthy
and influential, and thus valuable to the country to which he owes
allegiance. The American Consulates are in marked contrast to the
British, because the American representatives are first of all American
citizens, men who have a knowledge of the world and its ways, who look
upon commerce and business as things deserving interest, attention,
and development. American Consuls have not even a nodding acquaintance
with the Chinese language, and know next to nothing of Chinese customs,
laws, literature, or ideals; but they do know quite well what the
American citizens need, and they do their utmost to secure for their
nationals all they are justified in obtaining. No business is too small
for their attention, no enterprise too great or too daring for their
consideration. It is because of the aid they are to business men and to
commerce that American trade has advanced so rapidly in the markets
of China. People are anxious to be in American businesses, or to have
Americans in business with them, because of the assistance the American
consular service extends to those of their nationals who are engaged
in lawful commerce, and the American Consul no less heartily than the
British penalizes those of his compatriots who abuse the people of the
country in which they live. I was told that in one treaty port, in
so short a time as two months, more than fifty British subjects had
applied to the American Consul for advice or assistance, or to inquire
in what manner they could become American citizens, or acquire the
right to the protection and support of the American flag.
The reason for the preference is appreciated at once by those who have
had experience of both. If you call on the American Consul, there is
no one to bar your way; you walk straight through into the office and
sit down; if you speak English, no other passport or introduction is
required, and you start right in and talk to a man who does understand
your position, does know what you want to do, for he knows men,
and the world, and life, and has not been reared in a cold storage
establishment grappling all his days with Mandarin Chinese and fine
print. And being a man, he is interested in you and in what you say.
Then he says: “I can’t advise you, because you are a British subject;
but if you were an American citizen, I should tell you to do what you
want to do, and you would get through, because, if any Chinese official
wanted to stop you, I should see he didn’t.”
If you call upon a big British Consul on business, it is as well to
be sure that you have all your identification papers on your person,
for you are liable to want them before you reach an inner door. At the
Consulate you are confronted by an array of stalwart Chinese in gaudy
uniforms, and flaunting the red cockade of official employ. There are
corridors and passages, and boards with printed notices thereon; and
doors painted “Private,” and “Judge’s Entrance,” with other legends
forbidding your progress; there is a real British constable, and men
in khaki, and a waiting-room like that of a club doctor’s surgery. You
wait. The place suggests in turn a petty sessions court, a railway
station waiting-room, and the vestry of a Nonconformist Chapel. You
expect to see horse-hair wigs, and horse-hair furniture, and wonder
which is the way to the cells, and whether the Consul has the “Black
Cap,” and if so, where that is kept. After the usual formalities you
may see the Consul; as likely as not he will seem old and careworn,
and look as though it were Sunday and he was not where he ought to be,
but you had caught him. He will fidget with a monocle and shuffle
papers, and gaze round at the plainest of plain official furniture
as though searching for the logograms which his eyes love. And you
will see that his hours of sunshine have been spent under an umbrella
poring over books, and his evenings in gazing at the dust a few feet in
front of a bicycle wheel. And the man will be stiff, and frigid, and
metaphorically covered with the dust of ages, but only metaphorically,
for from the way of him you know that he washes in cold water many
times a day. You know that he goes to bed early, and to most things
has a conscientious objection, and to all enterprise is a passive
resister. You will bore the consul--and he will bore you, for he knows
not your world, nor is he acquainted with the age you live in. He
awes you. It may be 120° F. outside in the sun, but this office and
its occupant produce a soul-chill; you get up and steal silently away
before something breaks, and you emerge into the sunlight with the
same feeling you have when you get out of your cold bath after having
remained in it half an hour too long. When you are really outside
and hastening away, you turn to see if the motto under the British
coat-of-arms over the doorway does not read “_Non possumus_,” and you
wonder what the Consul does besides sentencing British subjects to
deportation, and why they are deported, and how, and when, and whether
it is done in public like a Chinese execution. And if you can help it,
you do not go to that dreadful place again ever.
It is a deplorable state of things in any British settlement to have
British residents dislike meeting their Consul, to be uneasy in his
presence, dissatisfied with his work, and, for practical business
purposes, regardless of his existence. Every one out East knows that
the British consular service needs remodelling, modernizing, and
vitalizing with a new spirit--the spirit with which the British nation
of to-day is imbued. It is useless blaming the system, or the men, or
attempting to tinker with the existing service. In the State as in
factories to retain and attempt to work with worn-out tools is false
economy, and gives an advantage to better equipped competitors. We
advise our manufacturers to throw their old-fashioned machinery on
to the scrap heap, and start in with new machines and new methods,
as being the only sensible way in which to attain success. So with
the Chinese consular service, we cannot expect these men to adapt
themselves to new conditions, to cut out their high faluting with
international high diplomacy, and come down to brass tacks.
Fortunately for British newspaper correspondents, Consul-General
Miller, the United States representative at Newchwang, was of the
right type, and drew no fine distinctions between British subjects and
American citizens. War correspondents of both nationalities seemed
equally welcome, and both stayed in his house. His exertions on their
behalf were so strenuous and constant that had he made any marked
difference because of nationality alone, those correspondents who were
British subjects might as well have left Newchwang. Only one of the
many correspondents he worked for so hard succeeded in exhausting his
patience. This was an American, a man of tireless energy and unlimited
push, who was first on one side, then on the other, and consequently
continuously in hot water, and needing his Consul’s interference. Said
the Consul one day: “You will not follow my advice, you do what you
know you ought not to attempt; so henceforth I wash my hands of you
entirely; I do not know you, and I will not interfere again on your
behalf.” And the journalist answered, “Consul, you cannot be rid of
your responsibilities so easily. If I am in any difficulty here with
either the Russian or the Japanese authorities, I shall be brought
to your consulate, and as an American citizen I shall claim your
protection, and you will refuse it at your peril.” And he got into
trouble again, and was taken to the consulate, and the Consul helped
him. Would a British Consul have done so for one of his own nationals
in similar circumstances?
The doyen of the consular corps at Newchwang was the British Consul,
Mr. H. E. Fulford, C.M.G., and the difference between British and
American consular methods is afforded by the _Fawan_ incident. Early
in the war the _Chicago Daily News_ chartered a British steamer, the
_Fawan_, as a press dispatch boat, and she cruised in the Yellow Sea.
In April she approached the Liao river, and, as required then by the
regulations of the port of Newchwang, lay to, off the outer bar, for
inspection by the Russian authorities. After being twenty-six hours at
anchor there, the Russian launch came off, boarded her, and finding
that she was a press boat, informed the correspondents that Newchwang
being then under martial law their boat could not proceed up the
river. But the Russians ascertained that there were two Japanese on
board, engaged in the capacity of cabin boys. Thereupon they declared
that they seized the boat, and ordered her captain to follow them up
the river. The captain wished to take a pilot, but this request was
not granted, the officer in command of the launch stating that the
launch would pilot the _Fawan_. Soon the Russian launch ran on to a
sandbank and remained fast; the _Fawan_ also ran ashore, but got off
again quickly, and continued her voyage up stream. She landed the two
correspondents, Mr. Washburn and Mr. Little, and they proceeded to the
British Consul to place particulars of their case before him, as the
boat was under the British flag, and, though complying with the port
regulations, had been arrested, and they feared that the same fortune
would be theirs, and they had been informed that the cabin boys might
be treated as spies, and possibly shot.
The British Consul listened to the facts, and stated that he could not
do anything in the matter. It was true that the _Fawan_ was a British
ship flying the British flag; it was true that Great Britain had a
treaty of alliance with Japan, but he thought the correspondents ought
not to have brought the _Fawan_ where they did; and he thought that,
as they stated, the Russians would arrest them, and possibly send them
home by way of Moscow; that they would confiscate the _Fawan_, and
might treat the two cabin boys as spies. He thought the Russians would
be within their rights if they did as the correspondents feared they
might do; and if they did do so, he could not interfere.
The correspondents went next to the American consulate. Mr. Miller
obtained release for the correspondents from arrest, the _Fawan_ was
set free, the correspondents were on board her when she left Newchwang,
and the two Japanese were allowed to proceed to their own country by
the usual route.
Shortly after this incident closed Mr. Fulford was promoted to the post
of Acting Consul-General at Tientsin. It is usual in North China, when
any resident leaves a settlement, for the Chinese and others to let off
many crackers, and to gather at the point of departure to wish him a
safe and prosperous journey. This is more particularly the case when a
resident leaves a locality on promotion to higher office. At Yingkow I
have several times seen the railway platform crowded when a European
has been going simply on leave, or for a change of air. On the occasion
of Mr. Fulford’s departure the only persons present to wish him “Good
luck and God speed” were a clerk from his office and myself. I was
astonished at this lack of courtesy, but soon I was to meet the Consul
again.
At this time there were about twenty correspondents at Newchwang, and
naturally each of us who had any item of news was jealous of it, and
guarded the secret carefully until some hours after it had been cabled
away. Both Etzel and myself were aware of a leakage somewhere, but we
were unable to discover in what way news we believed to be ours only
had proved to be commonly known elsewhere. We adopted every precaution,
had the privacy of the telegraph room respected as far as we were
able, and Etzel went to two relay stations to investigate conditions
there; messages were forwarded from different places, and the usual
means adopted to have exclusive news got through to its destination at
the earliest possible moment. I have already stated that any Chinese
coolie taking a message could be made to show it to a European who
offered a sufficient bribe or threatened bobbery, but this does not
indicate the general lack of secretiveness amongst the Europeans
resident in North China. It is a common practice to send round an
“express,” or open letter, by a Chinese carrier, who shows it to any
and every European who is minded to read its contents. This possibly
has something to do with the general publicity given to all matters in
China. It does not account for some of the practices of the Europeans
themselves. For instance, in Chifu ship-masters who had undertaken to
deliver messages at a given address offered to sell the news these
messages contained to news correspondents stationed in that port;
men entrusted with messages to wire from within the Great Wall would
open them in the presence of correspondents and read aloud the news
the other correspondent was dispatching. The whole business was beset
with difficulties, and neither belligerent would permit code or cipher
messages to be dispatched.
Early in June I had occasion to visit Tientsin, and on the afternoon
of my arrival I met Mr. Archibald, of _Collier’s Weekly_, who told me
that he had just seen in the telegraph office a notice directing copies
of all cables to be sent to a resident in Tientsin. Whatever may be
the law and usage in China, I had always regarded the contents of a
telegram once in the office for transmission as secret. It seemed to
me that the case was equivalent to the conveyance of animals or goods;
the owner was responsible for their safe keeping until delivery had
been made to the carriers, when his liability ceased, and that of the
carriers commenced. This Chinese method of dealing with messages was
new to me; Dr. Morrison had never mentioned its existence.
Subsequently we two correspondents were joined in Tientsin by Mr.
Richard Little, representing the _Chicago Daily News_, and together we
went to the head office of the Imperial Chinese Railway Telegraphs,
where we saw in the instrument-room the notice directing that a copy
of telegrams from Yingkow and other places, intended for the Eastern
Telegraph Company was to be sent to Mr. Fenton, of the _Tientsin
Press_. The notice was signed by Mr. N. F. Huang, who is the director
of telegraphs, and it is a striking instance of the laxity of Chinese
Railway Telegraph administration.
[Illustration: FACSIMILE OF AN ORDER IN THE CHINESE TELEGRAPH OFFICE AT
TIENTSIN.]
At the date the notice was signed there were in Yingkow L. L. Etzel,
of the _Daily Telegraph_; W. O. Greener, the _Times_; F. MacCullagh,
_New York Herald_; Dr. G. E. Morrison, the _Times_; Lieut.-Col. C.
Norris-Newman, the _Daily Mail_, besides Reuter’s representative and
three correspondents of Continental newspapers. During the three
months and upwards it had been posted over the receiving clerk’s desk
representatives of all the great newspapers in England and America had
visited Yingkow, and the number of cables dispatched from there and
“other places” must have amounted to hundreds, for the transmission of
which thousands of dollars had been accepted.
We acquired that notice before we left the offices, and after it had
been photographed I took it to the British consulate, and showed it
to Mr. H. E. Fulford, H.B.M.’s Acting Consul-General at Tientsin.
I explained to him where I had seen the notice, and reminded him
that when he was at Newchwang there were upwards of a dozen special
correspondents dispatching messages from Yingkow.
He asked me what I wished him to do.
I told him that I should like him to advise me what to do, as it
was a serious matter for correspondents. He answered testily that
he could not advise me. I then asked him to be good enough to make
a note of the document. This he said he did not want to do, and the
notice he returned to me without any comment upon the affair, but with
expressions of annoyance at my appearance. In his words, I “looked as
though I owned the consulate,” and not wishing to dispute proprietary
rights with the man in possession, I withdrew. It was the first time
I had been in Tientsin; I knew that this matter was one which would
be viewed by all special correspondents as affecting their interests
vitally, and it was clear that the British Consul was disinclined to
interfere actively in the business, or advise me how to proceed against
the powerful and influential Chinese corporation, with which H. E., the
Viceroy Yuan-shi-kai himself, is directly connected.
At the same time it was clear to us three correspondents that the
Chinese authorities must be impressed, to a greater extent than they
had shown, with our view of the inviolability of telegrams entrusted
to their care. In this we thought that the local representative of the
cable company might be able to render us some assistance.
Mr. Fenton, in addition to being the representative of Reuter’s agency,
was the director of the Tientsin Press, a company owning a daily
newspaper, the _Peking and Tientsin Times_. The local manager of the
Eastern Cable Company, the assistant-superintendent of the Chinese
Imperial Telegraphs, and the assistant-editor of the _Peking and
Tientsin Times_, all messed with Mr. Fenton--practically they all lived
together--as they had a perfect right to do, whatever correspondents
might think, or wish to have otherwise.
We three correspondents were equal to the occasion. On three different
dates we returned to the north. The local manager of the Cable Company
was transferred to Chifu, and the assistant-superintendent of the
Imperial Telegraphs to Peking. The _Peking and Tientsin Times_, from
being indubitably pro-Russian, showed signs of wavering, and at once
the _China Review_, a new daily paper, was started to voice Russian
opinion in Tientsin.
I have been told that the Russian authorities are claiming a heavy
indemnity from the Imperial Railway Telegraphs; and if any one can
obtain an indemnity, the Russians of all people are most likely to
succeed.
As correspondent of the _China Times_, a daily newspaper published
in Tientsin, I was able to get news of the capture of Newchwang
into Tientsin before the Japanese authorities received any official
notification of the event, and in reporting the subsequent movements of
the Japanese in the north-east, the _China Times_ was so far in advance
of other announcements that I was able to satisfy myself that there
was no leakage of news in the telegraph offices at Tientsin.
The British residents in the Far East are very British, have all the
old-fashioned British insular prejudices, and amongst these they
cherish dearly the dislike of unknown acquaintances. The etiquette of
the settlement is an extension of the etiquette of railway travelling
in Great Britain. The first passenger to occupy a seat in a compartment
resents the intrusion of a stranger; and if two strangers are going a
long journey, half the distance will probably be covered before they
speak to each other; then possibly they get so interested in each other
that both regret they did not start the acquaintance earlier. That is
the China coast. The new-comer, a stranger, a sort of interloper, must
be watched, and taught that there was some one in the country before
he arrived. In the course of time, perhaps not long before he leaves
the country and its residents for ever, he is one of them. He is an old
timer, a Shanghai-lander himself. He forgets then the icy chilliness
of his reception, and becomes as the others. How often you hear your
fellow-passenger on the railway say, “We do not want any one else in
here!” as he assumes his most formidable aspect, and frowns through
the window, glaring at the would-be passengers seeking for seats. And
sometimes people will even give a tip to the railway servants, so that
they themselves “shall not be disturbed.” And the China coast men do
not want new settlers--except the officials Government imposes; they
do not want to be disturbed; do not want Americans, or Germans, or
any other settlers, not even British, and they have a law, long since
abolished in England, by which the British Consul can exile, or banish,
or deport any British subject from the settlement. It is the hoary
penalty of the ancients; it is the practice of Russia, and its survival
amongst British people in their own settlement is an anomaly.
The British residents tell you they are there for business, and not
for their health; they are intent on making money, and in making
money there are methods practised in the Far East which would not be
tolerated in Great Britain; but neither would banishment, nor hundreds
of things accepted as correct in China. Their love for the home country
is purely sentimental; it does not enter into business matters. I was
talking trade with a big importing commission merchant one day, a
respected British resident, and I asked him why, as a Briton, he did
not sell, or try to sell, more British manufactures, and so help the
people at home, who are struggling against poverty because they cannot
get work. His reason I had never heard adduced by any one. “I should
like to handle more British manufactured goods, and so would we all,
but we cannot prevail upon British manufacturers to make goods of such
bad quality as Germans and others make. We are commission merchants;
we want as many transactions as we can get. We are not going to sell
English stuff goods, because they will not wear out soon enough; nor
English-made goods, because they do not break. If English manufacturers
will put in rotten material, and make flimsy articles, so that very
soon after the buyers use them they are finished, and the buyers want
more, then we will purchase English goods, but not until they do! We
buy German, Belgian, and even American products in preference.”
Perhaps those experts who are so constantly advising the British
manufacturer to produce goods the foreign buyer wants, will tell him
now not to attempt good work, but give shoddy and Brummagem goods, and
thus increase British exports, and make trade flourish.
The foreign resident renders less to Great Britain than he takes from
her. He contributes nothing in the way of taxes; he expects to have a
British gunboat, or the British fleet, to protect his property whenever
it is threatened, and the use of British subsidized steamers for the
regular conveyance of his mails and himself, and bring him foreign-made
goods, and take home tea, which competes with British produce, and a
lot of other things we do not find necessary either to our comfort or
our existence.
The foreign residents, even of British nationality, take the Russian
side in this war; they believe in a white race; they have a decided
bias against the “yellow man”; they do not and cannot understand the
Japanese victories.
In April the German Consul-General went to Newchwang to advise his
nationals on their attitude during the war. He was asked as to the
protection of the property the German subjects there possessed, and
if it would be possible to obtain compensation for damages sustained
during the war. He answered that if the damage to German property
resulted from Japanese action, then he thought compensation would be
obtained, because Japan, being the weaker Power, could be coerced into
indemnifying German subjects for such losses as they might sustain. But
if the damage was due to Russian action, then in his opinion it would
be a much more difficult matter to obtain any compensation. After his
departure the British flag over various properties was lowered, and the
German ensign hoisted in its place.
In neutral territory one had opportunities for the study of human
character, of observing the policies of both belligerents, gauging the
temperament of the Chinese, and noting the peculiarities of the foreign
residents. Taken altogether, the newspaper correspondents themselves
were more interesting from the point of view of the student than were
the men of any one class. For the newspaper men had more individuality,
wider experience, and deeper sympathies. There was more to them than
to men of any other category. It is said, playfully perhaps, that the
_Times_ men form a distinct class; that in no possible circumstance can
one be quite an ordinary individual or ever act as one. However this
may be, the men themselves do not much resemble each other, and afford
strong contrasts. Dr. Morrison, essentially the schoolmaster, never
forgetful of the dignity of his position and faithful to commonest
conventions; Captain L. James, dashing, adroit, robust, so intent on
his work that he forgets self; but Kand. J. Hoeck possesses a spirit
cast in a different mould. Few persons could carry his learning without
losing their individuality, but it merely enhances his characteristics.
Kand. J. Hoeck is the only correspondent I met who could perceive
clearly and instantly the result of every occurrence; who could look
beyond the war to its effects upon Russians, Japanese, Chinese,
foreign residents and upon the inhabitants of Europe and America. He
perceived the stirring events of the great struggle; from them he
could appraise the ultimate issue. And Kand. Hoeck, of all the men,
was most likely not only to be right, but to champion the cause of
right through thick and thin as long as he lived, however unpopular
and derided that cause might be. A man to whom conventions were idle
as the wind that blows, a man with whom human nature is the only thing
that counts. Personal predilections, tastes, preferences, theories,
all went down before Kand. Hoeck’s reasoning like corks on a pool
table. He discounted individual idiosyncrasies and seized the tendency
of the aggregate of a class, a race, a group of nations and not
one--individual, race, or group of nationalities--but he would be ready
to uplift, to urge onward to better things, to higher and more humane
civilizations--a man to whom the world will yet listen attentively.
By the side of Kand. Hoeck other men appeared superficial, they faded
into insignificance, their very _raison d’être_ seemed trivial in the
extreme.
Of these others, the Americans were the more interesting: as a class
more frank, more generous, men of greater nature and deeper soul;
and they individually varied as much as the primary colours in the
spectrum. There was one, a typical journalist, experienced, clever,
adept and pushful. He came to us accompanied by a telegraph operator
with an instrument and gear for tapping the wires, and a scheme for
the exclusive use of the telegraph lines of North China by newspaper
correspondents. He met a man, the offspring of a Chinese mother and
British father, who clung to his mother’s nationality, and held with
success a responsible position under the Russian administration--a
man of great ability and some erudition, learned in the lore of the
Chinese ancients, and modern Western philosophies. The American
journalist seemed to have been astounded by the antiquity of China,
the remoteness of its civilization, the wondrous perfection of its
scheme of corporate social life. He unburdened himself to the official,
taking him for a full-blooded Chinaman of unusual cleverness and much
learning. He filled that man so full of hot air that he did not know
to which world he rightly belonged, so great became his own idea of
his own importance. The journalist went away, and the man talked to
Etzel as he had talked to the other journalist. Now Etzel was as good
a friend as ever breathed, and loved everything that lived, but he
had an American’s conventional ideas with reference to the proper
place of yellow-skinned men in the scheme of creation, and whether
Chinaman, or half-Chinaman he did not rank this man so highly as the
other journalist had done. The man took offence; he persisted in
pressing upon Etzel the other journalist’s reasoned-out contention of
the superiority of the Chinese; he refused to be assuaged by a friendly
invitation to partake of the rough-and-ready supper they were eating
in the Club; he even became quarrelsome, put his hand into the fold of
his waistcoat; and Etzel, thinking he was trying to find his revolver,
as he had threatened to do, just put out one hand towards that man’s
face, sent him sprawling backwards and senseless on to the floor by the
blow, and with the other hand held out his plate for more sausage. Ten
minutes later that still unconscious man was borne to his room by the
Chinese boys and a friendly newspaper man.
The foreign resident in China is more prone to deteriorate, to become
celestialized, than he is to uplift his Chinese associates to his
manner of living, his way of thinking, his standard of civilization.
And this doubtless is more common in North China, where the residents
do and must speak the language of the country, than it is in the
south, where English-speaking Chinese are far more numerous.
Probably among no alien race does the Englishman so rapidly lose his
essential characteristics as he does in China. In appearance he is
the Englishman still, well clothed, spotlessly clean, groomed to
perfection, affable, courteous, thorough, but _au fond_ tainted with
oriental tendencies. The merchant, owing to closer intercourse and
more frequent exchange of thoughts on matters of common interest,
is more quickly and more thoroughly impregnated than is even the
missionary--with the possible exception of those missionaries who adopt
Chinese clothes and the Chinese manner of living. The intercourse is
deleterious to the foreigner’s character. His children, if educated in
China, are British in appearance and name--in all that makes the man,
in all that differentiates the born Briton from men of other races,
the China-raised resident is wanting. An impressionable personality
perceives the difference immediately; he is face to face with men the
like of whom he has never met. It is said that some are so thoroughly
changed that a person of the opposite sex will shudder at their
touch, just as one would from contact with a Chinaman. In time this
sensibility is lessened; it is never caused by Englishmen not raised in
China, nor by all who are, for it is possible to avoid this absorption
of Chinese ideals, adoption of Chinese manners and the way of looking
at all things from the Chinaman’s point of view; but it appears to
be difficult to continue doing so when one lives constantly amongst
the Chinese. This in my opinion is the real “yellow peril” Europe will
have to fear when she is actually in close contact with masses of the
pure-bred yellow-skinned race--the people who do not, will not, cannot
change.
CHAPTER X
The Battle of Tashichiao
In this war a battle usually signifies a number of engagements in
different localities carried out simultaneously, and often being
continued for several consecutive days. It is somewhat difficult for
any but military experts to understand the value of each particular
movement, and not easy to give an account of them all in a way which
will be readily comprehensible. Tashichiao, preceding Liaoyang and
Sakhé, was of the same character as those more famous encounters; I
saw the fighting on the west of the front, whilst the movement which
decided the real issue took place at another time on the extreme east.
To understand the battle it is necessary to know the position of the
belligerents.
The Japanese were attempting to turn the Russian army of occupation
out of Manchuria by forcing them north along the line of the Eastern
Chinese Railway between Harbin and Port Arthur. The line between Mukden
and the Kwan-tung peninsula, runs over the flat plain on the west
of the chain of rocky mountains, some 4,000 feet high. West of the
railway is the sea and the river Liao and its tributaries, the Hun-ho,
Sha-ho and Tai-tsu. At the end of June the Japanese had a strong force
investing Port Arthur, they had established themselves in the northern
portion of the Kwan-tung peninsula and after the battle of Telissu the
Russians evacuated all the “neutral zone,” intended as a buffer for
Port Arthur, and were just north of that boundary, which extends from
Kaiping on the west, up the Tuntai Valley and down the Ta-yang-ho to
its port on the Yellow Sea.
The Japanese first army under General Kuroki was following the old
main road from the Yalu River at Antung, to Liaoyang, with a depôt at
Feng-huang-cheng, from which a road to the north-east leads east of
Motienling to the Liao Valley, then west to Liaoyang and north-west to
Mukden. This first army was already holding the pass on the north road
and the Motienling Pass.
The Takushan army followed the road to Haicheng, and at Hsiu-yen sent
a force west to keep in touch with the second army under General Oku
whose headquarters were at Kaiping.
The Japanese plan of campaign was by frontal attacks to drive the
Russians back north along the railway, and, by flank attacks through
the hill passes to the north of wherever the frontal attack was made,
induce the Russians to withdraw from opposing the frontal attack.
General Kuropatkin had fortified Liaoyang and all the approaches
thereto from the north-east, east, and south. On the south-west he had
the Russian defences at Newchwang.
Tashichiao junction, where the branch line from Newchwang joins the
main line, is a station nearly midway between Haicheng and Kaiping,
each being about twenty miles distant, and the town a few miles
east in the mountains, and Newchwang sixteen miles west. If the
Newchwang-Tashichiao railway were continued eastward for one hundred
miles it would reach Feng-huang-cheng, and almost parallel with that
supposed line there is a cart road to Haicheng from the east.
At the end of June, General Kuropatkin, having then about 200,000 men
free for the operations, determined upon an offensive movement south.
At that time the Japanese were awaiting more men for the second army
before advancing further north, and the Takushan army was driving the
Russians back towards Tashichiao.
On June 27, the Japanese first army occupied one Feng-shui-ling, east
of Motienling, and the Takushan army another Feng-shui-ling in the
Tapien-ling pass, thirty miles west of Motienling.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF TASHICHIAO.]
The advance of General Kuroki’s force north of Motienling threatening
both Mukden and Liaoyang, the Russians attacked it on July 4; there was
a hand-to-hand fight in which the Japanese were the chief sufferers,
but eventually they maintained their position and two days later had
advanced their outposts to Hsien-chang, further to the north-east.
On July 9, the second army, reinforced by troops landed at a “certain
place” in Liaotung Bay seized the town of Kaiping.
The following day the Russians attacked the Takushan army at Hsien-cha,
and Hsui-tsai-Kiao, but were repulsed.
On July 17, General Keller led the Russians against General Kuroki’s
advanced force on Motienling, but was repulsed. The Japanese advanced
north and west and occupied Hsi-ho-yen at the junction of the roads
to Mukden and Liaoyang, and some sixty miles from the latter--towards
which General Keller retreated.
The success of a general Japanese advance depended largely upon
the possibility of concerted action, and much responsibility was
thrust upon the central force, known as the Takushan army, which had
constantly to maintain communication with both the first and second
armies, and operate almost exclusively in the hilly district which the
Chinese know as the “land of the thousand peaks.” The Takushan army
consisted of the Himeji, or Tenth Division, under the leadership of
Lieut.-Gen. Baron Kawamura. On July 22, a detachment of this force,
having pushed on towards Haicheng, surprised and surrounded a Russian
force guarding the Ta-tung-ling pass. This Russian force was composed
of a battalion of the 17th Siberian Rifles, with details. At dusk the
Japanese charged the position, carried it, and the Russians fell back
north towards Ma-shan. The Japanese declare that on this occasion
the Russians exhibited a Japanese flag before the engagement. They
responded by displaying their flag, and to this the Russians replied by
opening fire.
It was only a trifling engagement; the Russian losses were about a
score, and the Japanese had only nine killed, but it was important
because permitting the Takushan force to occupy Pan-ling, and thus
threaten Haicheng from the south-east.
It was now incumbent on the Takushan army to make good their position.
Advancing slowly they found the Russians had extensive defences on the
hills to the north of Hung-yao-ling and a line of guns in position
from that point through Chang-san-ku to San-chiao-shan, with three
battalions of infantry east of Ma-shan, or To-mu-cheng, and south of
the village of that name. The Russian forces defending the head of the
Ta-tung-ling pass were commanded by Lieut.-Gen. Alexeiev, of the Fifth
Infantry Division, and in addition to twenty-one field guns he had
several machine guns, some cavalry, and two divisions of infantry.
The Motienling and the Ta-tung-ling passes were both being held by
strong forces to protect the flank of Kuropatkin’s army during its
intended advance south towards Port Arthur. At the same time both
passes were being attacked by General Kuroki’s army and the Takushan
army, as part of a flank attack to weaken the frontal defence opposing
the second army’s proposed advance north. During the last week in July
heavy reinforcements were sent to the Takushan army, enabling it to
make a dangerous and successful attack.
Haicheng is a quaint Chinese town upon a plain at the foot of the
Thousand Peaks. It has long possessed fortifications and was ably
defended by a force under General Sun Sing during the China-Japanese
war, from whom it was captured by General Katsura who wintered his army
there. It was thought that the Russian commander-in-chief would make
it his stronghold, instead of Liaoyang, but he was content to improve
and greatly strengthen the then existing fortifications and regard the
position as a middle line of defence to Liaoyang.
The outer line was nearly thirty miles south, on a range of hills
extending east and west near Tashichiao. The following positions
were strongly fortified: Taipin, and Chung-sin, west of the railway;
Tashichien and Chia-to-pu, east of it, and the ridge beginning west
with Taiushan, and ending with Taipingling, twenty-five miles east
of the railway. The east central peak of Ching-shing-shan was the
main position, protected with terraced entrenchments provided with
shell-proof roof, and looped for rifle fire. This position was further
protected by land mines--the fougasses used so successfully at Port
Arthur--with wire entanglements, abbatis and other obstructions. The
cannon were masked, and placed so as to command all approaches. This
formidable outer line of defence had been admirably planned, and
divided so that each battery covered a defined range, and the whole
protected every zone of possible offensive movements from the south, in
which direction the Russian outposts then extended over twenty miles,
that is to say reaching as far as the Tuntai Valley and the “neutral
zone.”
The military operations of the second army to dislodge the Russians
from this strongly defended position were of a somewhat complicated
character.
On July 23 the main force left its line of positions, the right wing
marched east as far as Liu-chia-ku--east of which the Takushan army
had driven the Russians north--then turned north. The left wing marched
north to the east of the railway line and was opposed by various bodies
of Russian troops composed of horse artillery, cavalry and infantry. At
night the Japanese forces deployed and prepared for a general attack,
which was commenced before daybreak. Pushing on rapidly the right wing
occupied positions south of Taipingling, the main body was on the
height of Shan-hsi-tu opposite the Russian centre at Ching-shing-shan.
The left wing first occupied Wutai heights, just east of the line,
until the right wing took the offensive, late in the forenoon, when it
moved west, got its artillery into position near Taipin Hill and sent
its cavalry west of the railway, and itself rested on Chuchiatun on
the line. That day, July 24, there was a heavy artillery duel, chiefly
between the Japanese west wing on Taipin, and the Russian guns on
Wangmatai.
The Japanese main army was slow in getting its guns into position, and
the infantry advance was checked. The Russian guns commanded every
point of vantage the attacking army strived to obtain; the Japanese
guns were exposed to the Russian fire, and although their position was
changed repeatedly, and with the utmost difficulty always, owing to
the rough character of the ground in the ravines, they failed both to
secure a position of comparative safety and to silence the Russian
guns.
The Japanese right wing, exposed though it was to the Russian fire, yet
made an attempt to advance on Taipingling. It rushed into the Russian
position, but withdrew before an overwhelming counter attack.
The Russian supposed advance on July 23 was really a concentration
for defence against the advance of the second Japanese army, which at
sundown on July 24 occupied practically the same positions as it had
done the previous evening, with the exception of the left wing which
had extended west of the railway.
Having that Sunday delivered a counter attack which had forced the
Japanese infantry to retire behind the hills to the south, the Russians
believed they had gained a victory, or, at least had held their ground
successfully.
For two or three hours after sunset the Russians fired occasionally for
purposes of reconnaissance, to which the Japanese artillery made no
answer.
At ten o’clock that night some movements of the Japanese were
observable from Taipingling, and shortly afterwards the outer defences
of that position were attacked by an overwhelming force of Japanese
infantry. The attack was successful; the Russians fell back to the
next line, which the Japanese also attacked and carried before three
o’clock the next morning. A portion of the Japanese centre then
advanced and occupied positions near Shan-shi-tsu, and there remained
only the centre position at Ching-shing-shan--adjoining Shan-shi-tsu
on the ridge--to be attacked at daylight. As soon as it was light
the Japanese artillery on Wutai-shan mountain in the rear fired a
few rounds without provoking the Russian artillery to answer. It was
then discovered that the Russian forces had moved. The right wing
and main body of the Japanese army then occupied Ching-shing-shan
without encountering any resistance, and the left wing advanced along
the railway to Chiao-pu-tu. The cavalry operated to the west of the
line, and later in the day reached Niuchatun. The Japanese occupied
Tashichiao at noon.
The surprising feature of the battle was the total collapse of the
formidable Russian defence on the occupation of the outworks of the
position on the extreme east.
The Japanese infantry cannot have been in those trenches earlier than
ten o’clock; it was five hours later before they stormed and carried
the position, yet long previous to that it had been decided to abandon
Ching-shing-shan, Tashichiao, and all the positions to the west of
the line, including Newchwang and the port of Yingkow. At the two
last-named places the Russians were advised at midnight, and were
all away before dawn. Of course, it may be that the occupation of
Taipingling by the Japanese commanded the whole line of the Tashichiao
defences. As it was, the Russians did not need to fight many rear
actions to cover their very hurried, but orderly, retreat, otherwise
the abandonment of so strong a position as Ching-shing-shan would have
been most blameworthy.
The Russians for the most part went north towards Haicheng by the main
road, the last of the fugitives passing Tashichiao about eleven o’clock
in the forenoon.
Many preparations had been made at Ching-shing-shan to fit the position
for a vigorous and prolonged defence, as it was almost a perfect
position, giving the defenders every advantage. By abandoning it, the
Russians relinquished Newchwang and whatever advantages they derived
from the possession of the port of Yingkow through which to import
supplies.
The Russian forces included Russian troops, the 1st, 2nd, 9th Siberian
rifles, the Siberian reserve, and the Primorski dragoons; the artillery
amounted to more than 100 guns, nearly all of which were safely removed
by the Russians, whose retreat was in no sense a disorganized rout. The
Russian casualties during the two days’ fighting amounted to nearly
2,000; the Japanese to more than half that number.
[Illustration: THE RUSSIAN RETREAT.]
On the following day the Japanese made a reconnaissance north,
and found that the Russians had two batteries in position at
Chin-shan-ling, some twelve miles north of Tashichiao. A forward move
from Tashichiao was not made by them until August 1, when the second
column went north to Nan-chien-shan without being opposed; the first
column, taking the route to the east, worked north from Taipingling
by way of Lian-chia-pu-tzu, which is near Ma-shan, and made a frontal
attack on the enemy; the third column followed the railway line,
keeping to the west, the Russians retiring before this advance; the
fourth column was farther west, going in the direction of Old Newchwang.
The Japanese, on discovering some of the enemy, adopted somewhat
unusual tactics. The middle columns retired about five miles; their
artillery took up positions to the east of Tung-chi-ku and Wen-chi-ku,
one on each side of the railway. The first, fourth, and fifth columns
advanced. The Russians continued to attack the centre, and brought into
use two field batteries, and in the afternoon got another one into
action at Hsai-chi-ho, opposite the fourth column, but attacking the
third column. The third column therefore divided and made a flanking
movement from the west in connection with the fourth column, whilst the
fifth column on the extreme east also pressed on.
The Russians opposed the Japanese with six squadrons of cavalry and
some companies of mounted infantry. As these, as well as the two
batteries which first opened fire, were all but surrounded by the
Japanese, their losses were heavy. The Russian forces, nearly one
division in all, escaped by going round to the south of Tan-wan-shan
and falling back upon Haicheng. On August 2 the Japanese occupied the
road between Old Newchwang and Haicheng. These operations were all made
on the open plain, the hills upon which the batteries were posted being
little more than round-topped knolls.
In these, and other engagements with Russian cavalry, the Japanese use
with most effect a manœuvre first practised by German horsemen at the
battle of Renty in 1544. The Japanese cavalry ride towards the Cossack
lancers as though intending to charge; when they are within thirty
yards they halt suddenly, and use their revolvers with deadly effect on
the approaching line of lancers, sometimes not five yards distant. The
officers state that this is the only way in which the Japanese cavalry
has been able to succeed against the Cossacks; in all other tactics
which they have used they have been worsted badly.
The Japanese, for the most part, have been operating in hilly country,
and know better than the Russians how to occupy a ravine with advantage
to themselves. The Russians on more than one occasion have sent
squads of cavalry up these narrow defiles, only to be annihilated by
the Japanese infantry. Certain detachments of the Independent Tenth
Division, a portion of the Takushan army, are stated to be adepts in
trapping small bodies of Russian troops, and to have accomplished some
brilliant feats, on a small scale, during their advance through the
Ta-tung-ling pass.
Before the end of July Baron Kawamura had sufficient forces at his
disposal to warrant an attack on the Russian force, consisting of
about seven batteries and three battalions of infantry, in strongly
entrenched positions on hills commanding the pass near To-mu-cheng. The
tactics were those ordinarily employed by the Japanese: the main body
of the army made a frontal attack on the formidable defensive works
the Russians had constructed during the summer months on the heights.
The left wing made a simultaneous attack on the outlying positions to
the west, and deposed the Russians on the hill, a thousand feet high,
before eight o’clock.
The Russians brought up reinforcements of artillery, which the left
wing, further strengthened, repulsed by heavy gun fire before three
in the afternoon. The main body deposed the Russians from the first
position by eleven in the morning, but could not proceed farther until
the heavy cannonading from the Russian positions to the west slackened.
The Russians, again reinforced, assumed the offensive during the
afternoon, but were repulsed with great loss. The night was passed by
both armies facing each other at close range. Meanwhile, the successes
of the left wing compelled the Russians to withdraw under cover of the
darkness, and fall back to Haicheng. This strongly fortified position,
the second line of defence to the main position at Liaoyang, was now
quite untenable, for the Takushan army had its guns already in position
on the heights above the town, and an open road through the pass.
General Oku, with the second army, was also pressing the Russian forces
covering the retreat of the Russian main army from Tashichiao, so no
attempt was made to defend either Haicheng or Anshantien, to the north
of it, and the Russians hurriedly took up their strongest defensive
position at Liaoyang.
The prompt and successful operations of the Takushan army hastened the
Russian retreat, and caused them to abandon large quantities of stores
and railway material. The Takushan army in the attacks on the Russian
positions near To-mucheng lost 8 officers and 168 men, and had 24
officers and 642 men wounded. Some 700 Russian bodies were buried, and
the total casualties must have exceeded 2,000 of all ranks. Six guns
were abandoned, with supplies of ammunition, provisions, and clothing.
The Japanese officers state that the Russian defence at Taipingling
was determined and courageous, and that of all the battles to that
date, the end of July, the battle of Tashichiao was the most bitterly
contested and hardly fought. The Japanese casualties during the two
days’ fighting exceeded 1,000, and those of the Russians were double
that number. In addition, some two to three hundred Chinese bandits had
been killed in the neighbourhood of Tashichiao, and in the subsequent
operations the Japanese losses were not less than 12 officers and 150
men killed, and over 850 wounded.
At Telissu the Japanese derived an immense advantage from the
superiority of their artillery, their shells exploding over the Russian
trenches, blowing the infantrymen to ribands and annihilating whole
companies. At Tashichiao the Russian artillery fire was the more
effective; the Japanese guns could not be placed in tenable positions,
and the battle had to be won by hand-to-hand conflict in the darkness.
The result was the same in so far as the superiority of the Japanese
army as a fighting force is proven by its victories, but these
victories are not entirely satisfactory, as they fail to show that the
strategy of the Japanese is superior to that of the Russians, or prove
that the tactics employed will enable the Japanese to win through in
every battle of a long campaign.
CHAPTER XI
The Japanese as Conquerors
Possibly the partial military evacuations of Newchwang were of the
nature of rehearsals for the real event which took place in the small
hours of the morning of July 25, after the heavy firing throughout
the day. I saw the Censor at Yingkow as late as ten o’clock on Sunday
night; he had no news, and was amusing himself with his fiddle.
About two hours later, when the Japanese had rushed the trenches at
Taipingling, twenty-five miles away, there came a telephone warning
for all Russian Government employees to hurry away, as the evacuation
of Newchwang had been ordered. By dawn there was scarcely a Russian
soldier left in the town, only four of the military police.
I was early astir, but the Press Censor had fled; he had taken with him
his fiddle, and some one else’s easy chair, and so many things that in
their quarters there was nothing left for the Chinese to steal. Then
I went to the telegraph office at Yingkow, but the Russian official
notices remained posted, and the clerks would not accept uncensored
messages for transmission. I sent the news down by train, for this
day there were no scrutineers in Russian employ, no Russian postman
accompanied the mail.
Soon the military refugees began to come in from over the water. They
arrived weaponless Russian soldiers, but they tore off their shoulder
straps, pulled their tunics up loose to fall and hide their belts,
donned straw sailor hats or tweed caps, and were hardly distinguishable
from the many sutlers and camp followers with which the station had
been thronged for months past.
Before eight o’clock, right away to the east, over the river above the
Russian settlement at Yingkow, two miles in a bee line, a cloud of
smoke arose and drifted south. Russia-town was burning. The Russians
had left beyond recall, and Russian rule in the treaty port of
Newchwang ended thus ingloriously.
We did not know that the Russian authorities had instructed the Chinese
coolies to take from the buildings everything there was, that a
complete and habitable settlement might not fall into the hands of the
enemy. A visit there in the forenoon showed that the instructions were
being filled to the letter. A mob of rough Chinese, numbering perhaps a
thousand, were demolishing the buildings for the value of the wood and
other materials of which they were constructed. This rabble struggled
and fought for plunder; if there was not enough to satisfy their greed
there, they would need but little inducement to rush the foreign
settlement for the loot it contained.
There is no civic life at Newchwang. Mr. Bandinel, who had foreseen
this period of anarchy, and had appealed to his fellow residents to be
prepared for it, and have a programme and an organization ready for
the emergency, had not been supported. It was daylight; early morning,
and the Japanese forces would arrive before danger reached the town or
threatened the residents in the foreign settlement. You cannot bring
into being in an instant a self-governing, orderly municipality. In
Newchwang the sense of common control needed to be created, and the
material at hand did not promise success. The character of the foreign
residents was demonstrated by incidents in the change of rulers.
By mid-day the Russian flag had disappeared in Newchwang. In its place
on all Government buildings flew the tricolour of France, elsewhere
were the national colours of almost every European country, and the
stars and stripes of the United States of America. It may as well
be stated that many of these flags were flown without sufficient
authority, and, unfortunately, the British flag is such a well
recognized commercial asset that the right to fly it was to all
intents and purposes purchased by people who had no moral claim to its
protection. It must not be thought that the British Consul sold the
right, allowed it as a privilege, or granted it as a favour. The people
who wished to have it transferred their property, on terms, to persons
registered as British subjects. Other flags were similarly procured.
The Japanese and the Russian alone were not flown on that day. It is
true there were exceptions. Before mid-day the Russian Administrator
was flying a new consular flag of the Russian empire; in the afternoon
over his residence the tricolour of France braved the breeze, and
before his gates Japanese scouts planted their war-flags.
Noon passed before any inquietude was felt. After tiffin people began
to crowd the square before the Administration buildings, and ask each
other when the Japanese were coming. The Chinese crowded their house
tops and gazed over the open country to the south, expecting to see
there some sign of the conquering army.
At last five scouts of the west wing of the army, who had been trying
to get in touch with the Russian pickets by following the branch
railway line from Tashichiao, reached the settlement from Niuchatun.
They found the town ungarrisoned. That they did not expect; they rode
in expecting sooner or later to find Russian soldiers, and they were
prepared for them. This burden of a Russianless town was not entirely
to their liking, but they were equal to the occasion. They knew the
town, went through the by-paths of the settlement, and discovered and
held up promptly two of the Russian military police. A third, behind
the wall of a compound, tore off his shoulder straps, threw away his
cap, and tried to pass as a civilian, but he surrendered to these five
men--only five men, and they captured and held the town.
They spake neither English, Chinese, nor Russian--they were scouts, and
they went carefully hither and thither seeking. I have in memory now
one of these, a man not five feet two inches high, mobbed by a crowd of
Chinese and foreign residents curious to see him, and he disregarding
every one and mounting a boundary stone in order to see over their
heads.
After five o’clock four Japanese scouts rode into the square. They were
mounted on sorry tired horses, all mud spattered and rough. The men
wore uniforms stained and torn by campaigning, one had tied the sole of
his boot to the uppers with a straw band, but they were soldiers, and
knew it.
The people regarded them with interest, but without any display of
emotion. They were not welcomed, nor was their intrusion resented.
Then arrived four more, later another four, with a non-commissioned
officer. To him came the chiefs of the Chinese guilds with greetings.
The foreign residents held aloof for the expected army, the officers,
and the General.
Soon the scouts, evidently having met at this rendezvous for
directions, went on with their work; four only remained on the parade
ground before the Administration buildings and the residences of the
leading foreign families. It was on this spot that, a short while
previous, British ladies had provided free teas and free refreshments
for the Russian troops arriving from outlying camps, and for recruits
after doing their drill-ground exercises. No one had anything to offer
these tired, battle-worn men; they tendered not even so much as a light
for a cigarette, or a drink of water to the thirsting beasts the men
rode. The Chinese looked on with as much indifference as the foreigners
showed. Hours passed; it began to get dark, and the expected army was
no nearer the town. The officials and residents became anxious. They
questioned the scouts, they sought about for an interpreter. What did
the scouts know? When would the troops arrive? Who was going to protect
property in the town?
There you have the foreign resident in China in his entirety. For the
men who had won battle after battle, for men who came straight into
their midst after two days’ continuous fighting, for the race with whom
Britons have an alliance, no word of good cheer, no ready hospitality,
no neighbourliness at all. To the foreign resident the Japanese are
yellow men--a race apart. They might be useful in guarding the white
men’s property, but to treat these men after war as Russian soldiers
were treated in peace time was not thought of even. Japan has not yet
bridged the gulf by war. Among the bulk of the foreign residents of
Newchwang Japan has still to win her way--the war will be finished long
before so little is accomplished.
The Consuls and the general public loitered near the Administration
building. As it grew dark they drove the Chinese away from the Russian
barracks fronting the parade ground, who again and again made futile
attempts to steal doors, windows, and fittings from the deserted
buildings.
It seemed that the Japanese army would never come. Mr. Bush was not
the type of man who waits for things to happen. Prevailing with one of
the scouts to accompany him, he rode out by the south gate and through
Niuchatun to where the nearest detachment of the Japanese forces was
believed to be bivouacking. There he explained to the commanding
officer that the property of the town was in danger, and induced him
to send fifty men at once to police the streets. It was past midnight
when they arrived. The Chinese, although they had been prevented from
injuring the deserted buildings near foreigners’ residences, had
completely gutted the Russian post office, jail, and other deserted
premises; had pulled out door and window frames and even torn up the
wooden floors and carried away the flag poles!
When the Japanese were in the town the Russian Administrator, who that
morning only had flown the special consular flag of Russia, hauled it
down before their eyes and hoisted the tricolour of France. The men
regarded the incident without betraying the least feeling. They stood
at the gates of his house with pistols ready, and patiently waiting the
advent of a person in authority. When a Japanese officer did arrive,
he was only a lieutenant; the Russian Administrator would not see him.
The lieutenant did not insist, nor did he complain of the French flag,
but he ordered the gilt eagle, the symbol of the dominion of the Tsar
of all the Russias, which is upon every Government building in Russia,
to be taken down forthwith. A Chinaman removed it from the pinnacle
above the Administration building. Next, word was conveyed to the late
Governor that he must leave the town. He was conveyed in privacy across
the river by the pilot launch, and a private car was placed at his
disposal by the railway officials. Every consideration was shown to
him that the attention and foresight of the new authorities prompted as
due to his official position.
The Japanese appear to possess a talent for organization which amounts
almost to genius. In a few days the visitor would have believed that
they had been in military occupation of the treaty port for months.
Their officials came as though at the call of some conjuror, and
fell into their work at once, work to which some of them were well
accustomed, as they were merely reinstated in their former positions.
The Yokohama Specie Bank reopened; the Japanese special war notes were
redeemed; there was a censor appointed, and he could always be found.
The Russian undesirables were requested to remove from the town, and
did so. Drinking saloons closed because there were no customers, and
the shipping in the port increased. The Japanese transports arrived
with troops, railway material and rolling stock. Japanese schooners
laden with provisions and stores thronged the river. Everywhere
were administrative officials and military guards, intent upon
their work, neglecting nothing and doing everything intelligently.
Again the streets were lighted, lanterns were seen flitting through
the thoroughfares at night. The Chinese merchants brought back
their families, and the town entered upon a new era of activity and
prosperity.
The Chinese made some “squeeze”; the first morning after the Japanese
invasion I walked along the Chinese Bund and found nine-tenths of
the frontagers busy with their fences, always moving them nearer the
water’s edge and stealing a few feet from the roadway. Some more boldly
fenced in long and broad stretches of footway; roads were closed, short
cuts and passages were sealed and taken into the adjoining compounds;
the individual was enriching himself at the expense of the public.
Japanese stores reopened; many new ones sprang into existence. There
was a general expansion of business and a much needed tidying up of
public property. Within a week the Russian occupation was no more than
a memory; there were no signs remaining of its existence, and the
evidence of the war was confined to the few empty cases on the Bund of
the mines lifted from the river bed. The Russian lettering disappeared
from the signs and public notices--the Chinese covered up theirs
under white paper the very day of the Russian evacuation--and than
the Chinese none seemed more pleased to be under the new regime, none
showed so unmistakably that public confidence was restored.
The Chinaman does not regard the Japanese as being good business
people. He thinks they are good soldiers. He knows they get the best
guns, and the best ships, and with these drive the Russians back. As to
the future, the Chinaman believes the trade of Manchuria will belong to
him.
A large number of small Japanese merchants started in business in
Newchwang, and after a very few days it was found that the small
capital they had possessed was already in the hands of the Chinese.
At present the Japanese are using as interpreters a large number of
Mahomedans, some of Tung-fu-hsian’s men, and others from Shantung,
who have Japanese women in their harems. These Mahomedan Chinese
are doing all the business for the Japanese with the natives of the
Fengtien province, and they are making large profits, and will do
better as the Japanese army extends farther north. The Chinese have no
fear of Japanese business competition; when it is a matter of buying
and selling, the Chinaman is sure of being able to hold his own. He
knows the Japanese will not take bribes, but he has found out that the
Japanese like to find money in their pockets without knowing how it got
there, and John Chinaman is going to show Mr. Jap how to do business in
Manchuria; and make money whilst teaching him the lesson.
CHAPTER XII
Contrasts and Comparisons
At Newchwang there were all the elements that tend to characterize
the Russian military rule. It has been stated repeatedly that the
Russians at Newchwang were guilty of barbarities, that they abominably
ill-treated Japanese refugees, insulted the foreign lady residents,
made themselves feared by their outrageous conduct, and required the
constraint a European joint occupation of the port would impose. The
facts do not support the irresponsible reports of those journalists to
whom the conditions of Russian life were new. Foreign ladies were not
habitually insulted by the Russians, nor were the residents, European
or Chinese, ill-treated or outraged. The only cases I saw of wrongdoing
were petty pilferings by Russian soldiers from Chinese pedlars, and
common and unmitigated cruelty to animals.
The Russian officers and the Russian troops from the British standpoint
of to-day were licentious, dissipated and immoral, as well as rough to
occasional brutality. They drank freely, lived as well as their means
permitted, and enjoyed themselves as far as circumstances allowed. When
they left they took with them their women, their drink, their dirt,
their noise--and the goodwill of the bulk of the foreign residents.
Judged by the standard of to-day they lack seriousness, refinement
and education. They eat and drink too much and are coarse and sensual
in their appetites. Compared with our British forefathers, even with
those who fought in the Napoleonic wars, they are not so rude, nor
is their life so bad as when it is contrasted with our armies of the
present generation--and, as soldiers, they lack most ardour for their
profession and the courage that comes from an intelligent conception of
duty.
There came to Newchwang two naval officers whom I knew well. Each was
typical of a class of officer common in the Russian navy, both had
about the same rank in the service. Big Vassy was one of the tallest
and heaviest men in the fleet, a gigantic child; boisterous, frank,
liberal and careless of his reputation. He was an incorrigible shirker.
Many times he was punished for neglect of duty, usually he managed to
escape the penalty. He received ten days’ confinement to barracks and
the first day he prevailed upon his guard to allow him to go into the
town to get a bath, promising to return within three hours, but in a
small place like Port Arthur the tenth day came before they found him.
He would bully and cajole, and get his own way. He was so prolific with
promises, and so entirely the jolly good fellow all round, who loved
wine, woman and song too well, that his superior officers tolerated
him, and looked aside when his shortcomings were before them. He had
command of a ship, but had no more intention of risking his life in
this war than had Admiral Alexeiev or the Tsar himself.
One night I was sitting in the Central Hotel, then the rendezvous of
Russian officers, when big Vassy unexpectedly burst into the room; he
did not stop to open the door, he just put his fist against the panel
and sent the flimsy fastenings far and wide. He thrust his sword and
revolver into my hands.
“Where is she? Where is Tatianne?”
“Tatianne who? Where have you sprung from? What is the matter with you?”
“Where is Tatianne? Tatianne Ivanovna, you know her? Where is she?
Where is she? She came from Port Arthur five days ago, you have seen
her, where is she?”
“Well, she isn’t here. Sit down. What will you have? Boy!”
“Nothing. Tell me, where is she?”
“She was staying with your friends, up at the other end of the
settlement. I don’t know where she is now.”
“But you must. Take me to her! Come! Come quickly!” He dragged me to
the door; resistance was useless.
“I’ll take you there in a minute. How did you get here?”
“Yes, take me. Come! Come quickly, come!”
“All right--all right! How did you get here?”
“By my feets! I walk from Tashichiao, thirty versts. I sent her a
dispatch, a telegram. She has not had it. Come, come quickly! Is it
far?”
“Ten minutes’ walk. How is Port Arthur getting along?”
“To blazes with Port Arthur! Where is she? Where is Tatianne? Are you
sure she is there? She said she would go to China. Where is she? You
know.”
We went out into the darkness, crushed through the thin frozen surface
into the thick mud of the Bund, groped our way through dark alleys into
the settlement, and at last on to the curbed footpath--there he ran on
ahead of me.
“Come!”
“What about Port Arthur?”
“More bombardment--much, much noise, damage nothing. Is it far?”
“How long did the bombardment last?”
“Oh, where is she? Two days--the Novy Gorod is hit many times. Come!”
One could not go quickly enough for that impetuous man, taking giant
strides, and holding to his rapid course by instinct. Little by little
I dragged some information out of him.
“And _your_ ship, Vassy?”
“I have no ship. I go to Vladivostok to take command. If Tatianne will
come I go to-morrow. If she will not, I go to China too!”
“Vassy!” I remonstrated.
He grunted. For a few seconds he strode on ahead rapidly, then he
groaned and turned to me suddenly. “What a fool a woman can make of a
man!” Then he laughed, a short, nervous little laugh, and again walked
on even more quickly than before. A rudimentary truth had been absorbed
by his primitive brain. We reached the door. Tatianne was there. That
was the last I saw of her and of Vassy. Both went straightway to
Vladivostok on the morrow.
Big Vassy had his qualities, but they were not such as fitted him for
any navy. If Russia had a house of peers, Vassy and his like would find
there a fitting apotheosis.
But the Russian navy has also Boris Kouzmin-Korovaiev. Boris is a
true Slav; he is strong as a lion, lithe as a cat, tenacious as a
bull-terrier, and brave as a Jap. Boris would not last long as the
superintendent of a nonconformist Sunday School. He is not a short
sport, in fact he drinks like a fish, or a Pole. For long days together
Boris will be intoxicated, but not incompetent. He has brains and can
use them. All he needs is opportunity. He had an occasion at Port
Arthur, and was mentioned in the Viceroy’s dispatches. You cannot
quarrel with Boris; act squarely and Boris will never quarrel with
you--he is Russian, too. And, of men like Boris the Russian navy has
many, but not enough. It has also brave commanders like Captain Essen
of the _Novik_, Viren of the _Diana_, and Zalyesski of the _Askold_.
In Newchwang we had the men who, on the _Lieutenant Barukhov_, ran the
blockade out of Port Arthur, and returned there without a hurt.
After the Japanese had occupied Newchwang, they searched for a number
of Chinese, who had acted as interpreters for the Russians, and in
other ways assisted them. These interpreters, who had been left behind
by the Russians when they evacuated, hid in Yingkow, and went about in
fear of their lives. Some escaped by train. One day at Kaopantze one
of the men was recognized by some one on the station. The Hunghuses,
under their Japanese leader, promptly seized the man, dragged him off
the train, out of the station, placed him against a wall and shot
him. The next day another interpreter was on the train; he, too, was
found and seized, but the seizure was noticed by one of the inspectors,
who interfered--the man had his ticket, and could travel on unless
the police seized him. The Hunghus leader demurred, and produced a
revolver, which the inspector promptly gripped and at the same time
called in Chinese to the sergeant of the twenty soldiers marshalled on
the platform to bring his men up to assist him. The man gave the order,
but they marched straight away from, instead of towards, the scene
of the struggle, and the non-commissioned officer promptly followed
them himself. But neither the Hunghuses, nor their Japanese leader,
dared attack the Briton: the train was started, and the life of the
interpreter was saved. A few days later a Japanese officer went from
Yingkow to interview the leader of the gang, and after his visit they
made no further trouble.
It must not be supposed that with war between Japan and Russia in
progress the soldiers of the two Powers keep the peace when they are
thrown together, as in the legation guards at Peking. There is a great
deal of animosity, and it is frequently shown by the men; ordinarily
their officers agree as to hours of leave, and the two are kept apart.
The Japanese also show animus against the French and Germans, and
when they can resent the overbearing manner of these European troops
they do so. In July some French soldiers caused some disturbance in
the Japanese town at Shanhaikwan. This gave the Japanese gendarme an
opportunity. In the fight which ensued he was wounded, but three of the
French soldiers were killed, and others were badly injured.
In neutral territory we were, of course, hearing constantly from
eye-witnesses of the course of the war at Port Arthur, and of the
progress made by the Japanese army. With reference to the besieged in
the great fortress the news was always dispiriting; now it was Sidorski
who had been killed by a shell; then little Victor had lost his life at
the Yalu; Mamontoy was wounded--thus were we reminded of the actuality
of war. And the Japanese would tell of the progress being made with
their mines; of the slowness with which they were driving parallels up
to the Russian positions; of their wish that all women, children and
civilians would leave the town, and of their intention to treat all
found there as combatants when the great assault took place.
There can be no doubt that this will be so. For months past every
civilian in the fortress has been compelled to take his turn in the
trenches; every man able to bear arms has borne them, with the possible
exception of the Red Cross surgeons.
The Japanese were not nearly so communicative as the Russians, and
could not be surprised into making admissions. I said to a Russian
naval officer once:
“Captain, why are you putting out mines on the high seas?”
“We are not putting out mines on the high seas; we put them only
twenty-five miles from the coast, except perhaps at Kerr Bay they
extend farther. Who says we put them on the high seas?”
But the Japanese will talk, if you will do something for them. There
was one, a man of modern ideas, who did not see the usefulness, from
the military point of view, of the soldier sacrificing his life rather
than turning back, and even seeking death in battle as the greatest
good. He wished me to write an article in a local paper, which he
would have translated and quoted in all Japanese papers, showing that
sometimes it was wiser to surrender, and thereby incommode the enemy,
than to die. The article appeared; it had the usual references to
Dai Nippon, and all about Yamato Domashi in its most idealistic and
refined aspects. It satisfied him in every particular but one. I wrote
that it might be wiser to surrender or flee than to die; that could
not be so; it was so glorious to die for one’s country! The very man
who appreciated the logic of the argument was unable to overcome the
sentiment which animates the Japanese soldier.
The Japanese informed me in August, after the battle of Tashichiao,
that in no circumstances would they press on beyond Liaoyang this
campaign unless the Russians fell back to Harbin--even then their
forces were to remain south of Mukden until next spring, when the great
campaign will begin--and finish.
The Japanese have adopted not only many Western methods but Western
ideals. They have not the Chinaman’s power to influence men of the
Caucasian race. The Japanese, notwithstanding their Western ways, are
not of us, and never will be. They are fighting for a cause we know
and feel to be right; they will talk by the hour of sources of food
supply they have had taken from them, of the market closed to them, and
prove that they are fighting for existence--before the injuries Russia
has caused them weaken them so much that they could not fight with any
chance of success. They are fighting in the Western manner generally,
that Western people may judge them by Western standards. But there are
occasions when the difference is shown, when Japanese disregard of
death hurls them as it were impulsively to attack where attack means
certain death, absolute annihilation. With their weapons ready in
their hands they follow unhesitatingly the little Sun-flags--follow
in silence, so impassively they seem scarcely to be human beings but
creatures obeying some primitive instinct--they go to their death
by fire, unreasoning, unthinking, as migrating lemmings go without
swerving into the ocean which drowns all.
Ordinarily they are rational to a fault. They have reasoned out
everything, have made ready for every eventuality. A crushing defeat
at any one point would cause them to change the plan of campaign, not
to abandon the war, and their organization is such that a complete
change of front could be accomplished without the least disorder,
alarm, or loss. They have still as many soldiers waiting to come to
Manchuria as they have already brought there; money they will raise
at need. They issued notes not having currency of the country, the
notes are convertible into cash at the Japanese banks. The war will be
paid for largely by the goods now being manufactured by Japanese, all
working overtime, and these goods will be sold in the markets of four
continents. For Japan alone benefited by the great commercial congress
at Philadelphia; its Government took up the idea of the Commercial
Museum and having a perfect organization worked it profitably, thus
gaining a share of the world’s commerce. There is no flaw anywhere.
The Japanese troops may not pursue fleeing Russians so quickly that
the enemy are kept on the run. That might mean a risk, moreover, after
days of continuous fighting to win a position, is it not enough for
the moment to have it, then prepare for winning the next? When all is
ready, the attack will be made, and the position won. There is nothing
left to chance. Major-General Fukushima, the strategist of the campaign
and director of General Oku’s movements, is a stolid, plodding,
indefatigable student of Moltke’s _Art of War_, and military text
books. He will not depart from the rule, he will win the prize working
according to the rules of the game. In appearance and bearing he
suggests a fourth form boy who is the school prodigy and is conscious
of his position.
The Japanese Army has its inconsistencies; for instance, officers will
cover even their sword-scabbards with khaki lest the sun glint should
betray them, but all the scouts I saw wore breeches of cardinal red
with a broad stripe of yellow or green in which they were as glaringly
conspicuous as if they had been in the uniform of our own 11th Hussars.
The Japanese have a just cause; they fight bravely: their organization
is nearly perfect; their reforms are thorough and excellent--one cannot
but admire them; they deserve to win, and they will win, and the world
will be the better for their victory. It is because of this we wish
them to win. In spite of their race and their paganism, and though
their civilization may be but a thin veneer, we require them to win
because they are fighting in the cause of freedom, fighting for the
rights of man irrespective of creed or colour, fighting for western
ideals of justice, fighting for the good of humanity.
We are more in sympathy with the Russians because they are nearer
kin. They have their faults, but in spite of their faults, or perhaps
because of their weaknesses, we love them, man for man, even more than
we admire their opponents. The Japanese are bravest of the brave; an
officer will rush in and kill sixteen of the enemy with his sword. All
fight like classic heroes, but they still sit down on their shins,
and we wonder what sort of men they are after all. The Russians we
understand. We admire General Stoessel not a whit the less when we
know, that with all his bravery and bluster, he is married to a homely
sharp-tongued little _hausfraü_ whom he must obey implicitly--were she
a veritable shrew the man would still have our esteem. “Go home--Port
Arthur is no place for women!” commands the General. “A wife’s place is
by her husband--Tollya, I shall stay!” says the commandant’s wife.
Then there is H.E. the Viceroy, Admiral Alexeiev, raised to a dizzy
height of power and living up to his position. For him no more
hilarious nights, wild gambles, boisterous exploits; no more storming
and raving on the quarter decks of ships where work has been left
undone, but a monotonous round of high society functions and wearisome
entertainments, broken by an occasional holiday in an obscure treaty
port of China. Admiral Alexeiev made the common mistake of supposing
dignity to be a virtue, whereas it is only a grace. The Japanese
official promoted to higher rank knows that the post will need a
greater expenditure of energy, and he does what is required and
expected of him. The Russian may be an inveterate liar, a drunkard
leading a dissolute life, may know that he is the slave of besetting
sins, but never forgets that he is a man. He will not pay to virtue
the tribute of hypocrisy she extorts from vice. He is an open and
only a superficial sinner, appraising himself higher than do those
who observe him, surrounding himself with temptations and indulging
unashamed. The Japanese will run no risks, that drink shop may cause
harm--it is straightway closed. Those people may tempt heroes from the
business of war to the pleasures of peace--they are sent beyond the
military lines. The Japanese are pagans who have adopted the ethical
code of the West; there is nothing in their conduct to which the most
strait-laced puritan could take exception; missionaries bow to them,
for even missionaries do not need to shut their eyes to the behaviour
of these conquerors. They are as correct as the rule of three, and have
its limitations.
Some Russian officials, with tears in their eyes, asked me why it was
the British hated them so intensely. There, in Newchwang, they had done
everything they could think of to appease the English residents. They
gave them business, the Government spent money freely, they themselves
entertained lavishly; they offered always the hand of friendship, but
it was not clasped. And Newchwang was but typical of other ports,
everywhere it was the same, what more could Russians do?
The difference is just this: in the game of life Russia disregards all
the rules Western civilization has decreed to be right. In politics,
in commerce, in law, in the big things and the little things of life
Russia is a law to herself. The Japanese, on the contrary, have
accepted the Western standard of ethics, and in their international
relations attempt to conform to Western conventions.
An English lady, who spoke Russian, had occasion to visit the station,
and on her way asked for a lift in one of the army waggons going from
Newchwang to Russia-town. The favour was immediately granted. When
she was seated the driver gazed at her earnestly, and asked what she
might be. She answered that she was English. “Ah, I knew you were not
of us, you are so clean.” She smiled. The soldier continued, with a
jerk backward of his head towards the settlement, “It is funny what
a lot of clean people one sees there--never saw so many in my life!”
Then, somewhat regretfully. “We have not the means to be clean, lady!”
The Russians, unfortunately for them, have not the means to be many
other things we count good. The soldiers, before the campaign was
three months old, were in tatters. I remember one; he wore purple
(half tanned) high boots, regulation breeches, a shirt or tunic made
out of an old gunny sack, a straw sailor hat without a ribbon, and the
broken brim drooping to his ear; he had a bayonet without a scabbard
and a rifle with a thong of rawhide for a sling. I saw him fall to
attention and present arms as the Grand Duke Boris went along the Bund
at Newchwang. An unkempt, dirty, uncared for unit in the army; a thing
too common to call for comment or to receive consideration.
CHAPTER XIII
The Attack on Port Arthur
Russia’s great naval base in the Far East was intended to be an
impregnable fortress assuring freedom from molestation to a Russian
fleet taking the offensive and requiring a harbour at which to coal and
repair. The Viceroy’s policy seems to have been determined upon the
assumption that Port Arthur afforded an absolutely safe retreat for the
Russian fleet, even though the railway were cut and land communication
destroyed.
The plan of campaign, providing Japan attacked in force--Russia never
intended to make war--was for the land forces to retire north until
sufficiently reinforced to make a successful advance at the best
season; the garrison left at Port Arthur to hold the fortress from
attacks on the land side, and shelter the fleet from the enemy’s
vessels should they approach the port. The Russian fleet was intended
to manœuvre within the limits protected by the guns of the forts, to
entice the attacking ships to approach, then destroy them one after
the other; to make sudden, unexpected raids on the enemy’s transports,
convoys, and, where there was a prospect of success, also on the
opposing fleet. As the enemy’s fleet became weakened by losses through
such engagements, and repeated assaults on the fortress, the Russian
fleet would with increasing boldness take the offensive.
The Russians were confident that the fortress, well supplied with
ammunition and provisions, could hold out successfully until, at the
right season, Russia could take the offensive, and relieve the pressure
upon Port Arthur, and raise the siege if the place were really invested
by the enemy.
The scheme of defence broke down in three ways. First, the opening
attack of the Japanese so crippled the Russian fleet, that it never
ventured to take the offensive, and could render only limited direct
assistance in defending the fortress when the forts were attacked from
the sea. Secondly, the key to the defences of the peninsula was passed
on to the Japanese by the inability of the Russian forces to hold the
isthmus--a position was lost which could not be retrieved without the
co-operation of a fleet. Thirdly, the Russian reinforcements were not
obtained soon enough to give the Russians the required superiority to
enable their forces to take the offensive at the most favourable season.
From the first Port Arthur had to protect the whole of the fleet; to
resist the attacks of an undivided fleet of the enemy; and later to
repulse attacks on the land side made simultaneously. Not once did
the Russian fleet forsake the shelter of the forts, until it made a
dash to escape to neutral ports; it made no attempt by going forth to
draw away part of the enemy’s attacking fleet, even for a time--made
no attempt to ruin or weaken the strength of that attacking fleet by
counter attacks, which, though they might have entailed heavy losses
of Russian ships, would yet have caused the Japanese victory to have
been too dearly bought. The fleet co-operated in the defence, it is
true, and showed to greater advantage in coast defence, for which it
was not primarily intended, than it did in such work, as maintaining
communications, which it had been expected to perform.
The torpedo attack of February 8 was disastrous, but it might have been
made much more effective than it was. To the enemy’s fleet, bombarding
the port on February 9, the Russian fleet made some slight show of
resistance; in fact the _Novik_ seemed ready to attack all the Japanese
without assistance, and, but for her speed--twenty-seven knots,--she
would certainly have been cut off and captured or sunk. That engagement
showed to the Japanese the strength of the Russian fleet at Port
Arthur, and confirmed their belief that they had put two battleships
and a cruiser out of action.
So far as can be learned, the firing from the forts that day in no way
injured the Japanese vessels.
The chief forts defending the entrance to the harbour are those
immediately to the north, on the mountain known as Golden Hill.
These comprise three distinct batteries: the Golden Hill fort on the
summit; the electric battery on the summit of the rocky crags above
the entrance to the fort, and the Middle Batteries, which connect the
two forts, making a practically unbroken line of guns from end to end
of the hill, and at three different elevations. The guns on Wieyuen
fort and Tiger’s Tail, to the south, are neither so large nor so well
manned as the best batteries in the fortress. The fort on Liaotishan,
at the extremity of the peninsula and White Wolf Hill to the north of
it, complete the chief of the sea batteries, the batteries capable of
attacking if the enemy’s fleet should attempt to reach the harbour.
After the first attack it was the object of the Port Admiral to get
the damaged vessels into a sheltered position behind the Tiger’s Tail,
then to repair them as soon as the docks were available. The commandant
of the fortress had to strengthen the garrisons in the forts on the
land side, and put an army of defence into the field to the north of
the town lest an attempt should be made to land a force at Dalny,
Talienwan, Kinchow, or Port Adams.
The enemy’s fleet left the harbour without appreciable molestation for
a fortnight. Within that time the injured ships, except the _Retvizan_,
had been towed to safe moorings; the land forces had been stationed
wherever it was thought a landing might be attempted, and the fort
garrisons were increased. Better than that--the numbness and paralyzing
effect of the unexpected bombardment had passed away from the naval,
military and civil population.
The enemy’s fleet showed in the offing from time to time, but probably
merely in order to draw the fire from the forts. At night lights would
be seen to seaward and fired upon. Sometimes these lights disappeared
after they had been shot at, and Russians believed they had sunk ships
of the enemy. Some time later torpedo-boat destroyers, when scouting,
ascertained that these lights were dummies on rafts and triangles,
drifting in and across the entrance with the tide. It was a clever ruse
to draw the fire from the forts, and also to accustom the Russians to
harmless lights being shown at the entrance to the harbour.
The Viceroy and his naval, military and diplomatic corps left Port
Arthur for fresh headquarters at Mukden on Sunday, February 21. General
Stoessel was then in supreme command of the fortress and of the army
in the Kwan-tung peninsula; Admiral Stark in command of the fleet;
Admiral Grevy in charge of the port, harbour, dockyards and naval
departments.
During the night of February 23-24, the approach of the enemy was
signalled from Liaotishan, and at about half-past three the forts
opened fire. One of the approaching vessels, an old transport, the
_Tenshin Maru_, was sunk by shots from Golden Hill, and went down
in deep water about three miles to the south-west of the harbour
entrance. Thereupon the other vessels steered out, and, exhibited by
the search-lights from Golden Hill were followed by a heavy cannonade,
and were repeatedly struck. One, the _Bushu Maru_, ran aground and
was made a wreck by the Russian shells, and apparently blew to pieces
from the explosion of boilers, or of her magazine. The third vessel
came in towards the entrance, but was sunk outside by shots from the
grounded _Retvizan_, whose turret guns were used continuously. Two
other vessels, the _Hokoku_ and the _Jinsin_, came further into the
channel, but were sunk by the Russian shells from the _Retvizan_ and
forts, or by their crews. Both went down in the entrance to the harbour
outside the guardship and the _Retvizan_. Some bodies were washed
ashore the next morning, but the crews seemed to have escaped in the
torpedo boats which accompanied the flotilla of fire ships with which
the Japanese had intended to block the navigable channel to the harbour.
The expedition failed. The steamers did not sink in the channel, and
there was a fair way still open for the egress of the Russian fleet.
Later that day the town sustained a heavy bombardment directed upon the
harbour. The _Retvizan_ was struck, and some damage was done to the
town and forts, but the loss of life was slight.
The next night Japanese torpedo boats were seen approaching the
entrance, and were fired upon. Two were struck and appeared to sink,
the others went seaward, escaping in the darkness; a thick dull
atmosphere, presaging a snowstorm, covered harbour, hills and sea.
That morning two torpedo boats returned to harbour; a third was cut off
by the Japanese, and headed south, rounding Liaotishan and reaching
Pigeon Bay, where she was sunk by the enemy.
The following day General Stoessel ordered all British and American
residents to leave Port Arthur at once. Several did so and were caught
in a terrible blizzard which raged all over South Manchuria for
thirty-six hours.
The next week there was a respite from active warfare; the town again
recovered from the excitement, shock and disorder occasioned by the
heavy bombardment. At the end of the week the railway line was blocked
by a military train which had left the rails. The town people believed
that land communication had been destroyed by the Japanese, but the
arrival of the usual daily train on Sunday restored public confidence.
The next week Admiral Makaroff arrived and took over the command
from Admiral Stark. There was feverish activity in the naval yards,
and the smaller cruisers finished their repairs and were again fit
for action. From day to day there was firing, and some of the shells
wrought considerable havoc in both the old and the new towns, but the
casualties were few and the dilapidations so local that there was
nothing approaching panic. The civilians were becoming used to the
bursting of shells, and no longer started at the roar of cannon upon
the forts.
The _Retvizan_ was successfully refloated. The presence of Admiral
Makaroff and the Grand Dukes Cyril and Boris buoyed up the hopes of the
garrisons and even of the navy and the townspeople. It was believed
that soon something would be done to turn the tables upon the enemy,
and admit of the Russian fleet assuming the offensive. In the meantime
General Stoessel improved his defences on the land side; he sent out
agents to get in stores of provisions, and arrange for continual
supplies from the Chinese treaty ports, and showed that he possessed
much foresight, and would be prepared for any and every kind of attack.
The Japanese, foiled in their attempt to block the harbour, were
constantly annoying us by frequently reconnoitring. On March 10 the
search-lights revealed the approach of a torpedo-boat flotilla. The
batteries opened fire, and the Russian torpedo-boat flotilla put out
to sea. The enemy retreated, the Russian boats returned to port at
daylight with the news that the Japanese fleet was approaching; the
torpedo-boat destroyer _Steregushchi_ was sunk by this oncoming fleet.
At eight o’clock the fleet, consisting of fourteen ships, opened
fire on the harbour and the fortress from behind Liaotishan, and did
considerable damage to the New Town as well as to the shipping.
On Sunday, March 12, there was another engagement, during which the
_Diana_ was struck twice by the shells from the enemy’s fleet.
From this date the Russian fleet remained continuously under steam, and
lay most of the time in the outer roadstead. Admiral Alexeiev visited
the port, and, satisfied with the defences and the order prevailing,
returned to Mukden. The nights were clear, and in the bright moonlight
there was immunity from attack.
At the beginning of April the desultory bombardments recommenced, the
fire being directed towards the harbour and the Golden Hill forts. The
approach of the enemy on moonless nights was foiled by the incessant
vigilance of the sentinels and the prompt and effective use made of the
search-lights from the batteries.
The Yalu was now open; the ice had broken on the Liao; it was time for
a forward movement on the part of the Japanese. There were now chances
for the Russian fleet to attack the transports of the enemy if they
attempted to land troops either east or west of the Kwan-tung peninsula.
On April 11, Admiral Togo’s fleet again attacked the fortress. About
midnight the next day torpedo-boat destroyers and a transport, the
_Koryo_, managed to reach the entrance to the harbour, and lie in
security close under the cliff of Golden Hill whilst they put down
mines, unobserved from the batteries, although the search-lights swept
the approaches without a moment’s intermission. In the early morning
one of the Russian fleet’s scouts coming to harbour from Liaotishan was
fired upon and sunk by the enemy’s fleet; a second one escaped, but was
chased right into port by the Japanese squadron. Having ascertained
the strength of this squadron, Admiral Makaroff put to sea to give
the enemy battle. The _Bayan_ led; she was followed by the _Novik_,
_Askold_, and _Diana_, the three lightest and swiftest of the Russian
cruisers. Then followed the _Poltava_, the _Pobieda_, and the flag-ship
_Petropavlovsk_.
The Japanese squadron made a demonstration of force, fired with little
effect, and retired, hotly pursued by the Russian squadron. The
direction taken was towards the south-east.
This squadron doubtless communicated by wireless telegraphy with
Admiral Togo, who thereupon attempted to get his ships between the
Russian squadron and the harbour. In this he was frustrated, as the
Russians observed his approach and at once returned to port, the
_Petropavlovsk_ leading, and followed by the Japanese squadron they had
been chasing.
The weather was misty and fine rain was falling.
It appears that the Japanese had watched the route by which the Russian
ships entered and left the port, avoiding the obstacles the Japanese
had sunk, and their own mines put down to protect the entrance. In the
fairway the Japanese placed mines taken from the _Koryo_, and this was
not observed owing to the thick weather which had prevailed.
The _Petrovpavlovsk_ struck one of the Japanese mines. She appeared to
rise, then fell heavily, with a list so great that she seemed on her
beam ends, and all at once she sank from view.
This was the worst disaster Port Arthur had sustained. With the
_Petropavlovsk_ Admiral Makaroff went down. The commander and the
greater portion of the officers and men were lost, in all 791 men,
including the painter V. V. Vereshchagin, the poet Sessuchin, and
several Russian war correspondents. The Grand Dukes Cyril and Boris
were among the saved, the former being rescued from the water in an
insensible condition and suffering from concussion, the result of the
explosion beneath the battleship.
The Japanese followed up their advantage. The _Boyarin_ was attacked
and sunk whilst attempting to reach the port from Dalny. The bad
weather alone prevented them from making further immediate attacks on
the port.
The Viceroy, Admiral Alexeiev, resumed chief command of the fleet,
but his presence did not inspire the confidence the coming of Admiral
Makaroff had produced. For some reason neither officers nor men had the
same trust in the Viceroy. It was known that General Kuropatkin was in
supreme and independent command, that Admiral Makaroff also was free
from the Viceroy’s interference. He was regarded as merely a stop-gap,
much as, _faute de mieux_, Admiral Stark had assumed full responsible
command pending the arrival of Admiral Makaroff.
Three submarine boats were believed to be on their way to the port.
One arrived. The new propeller for the _Tesarevich_ was also received,
and some torpedo boats in sections. Hope was buoyed by the rumour that
either Rojdestvensky or Admiral Skrydloff would be sent to Port Arthur
to command what remained of the fleet.
General Stoessel became increasingly active in making preparations
for the defence of the fortress his special care. The defence of the
approaches, the holding of the Kwan-tung peninsula, the ports of
Dalny and Talienwan, the junction of Nangalin, and the railway as far
as beyond the isthmus from Port Arthur to Kinchow, in the neutral
territory, also devolved upon him as commander-in-chief of the army in
the peninsula. He disposed his forces to best advantage, concentrating
them upon the protection of the railway communications, and assigned
to General Fuchs, of the Siberian Rifles, with a force consisting of
nearly 10,000 men, the duty of safeguarding this land route.
The fort commands were of less immediate importance. The General
insisted upon European non-combatants leaving not only the fortress,
but the Kwan-tung peninsula. The contractors were urged to go beyond
its limits and be energetic in getting supplies sent to the port, to
Louisa Bay and other landing-places. Some were appointed to supply the
Russian main army north of Kinchow. Those remaining were all informed
that they must bear arms at need, and would be called upon to do manual
labour on the fortifications. The Chinese remaining were all treated as
coolies and they worked like slaves in making the trenches and adding
to the defences of the hill forts. The work on the forts not completed
was prosecuted energetically by night and day where screened from the
observation of the enemy at sea. Soldiers, sailors, marines all worked
hard, in regular shifts; the soldiers having in addition to do sentry
duty in the intervals.
During the past three months Port Arthur had withstood successfully
nine distinct bombardments. The forts were all intact, the
fortifications had suffered but little, and the damages were quickly
repaired. The towns were not destroyed, and were habitable. The
conditions were not insufferable. There was constant communication by
telegraph with St. Petersburg. Some news of the outer world reached
the town; the _Novy Krai_ appeared, somewhat irregularly owing to the
scarcity of labour, and the restaurants were open.
At this time there were over a thousand European civilians in the
fortress, and of them nearly half were women. Ever since the first
bombardment, from Port Arthur, Dalny, Talienwan, and the railway
settlements, there had been a more or less involuntary exodus of
traders, Russian workmen, settlers with their wives and families, the
idle and vicious hangers on to an army of occupation, adventurers and
adventuresses of every nationality, and those Chinese who were able
to escape also departed. The Europeans went by railway to Liaoyang,
Mukden, Harbin, or Russia; some thousands in the aggregate went to the
treaty ports of China by steamer or junk. The British steamer, _Foxton
Hall_, abandoned by its commander, was taken by the only remaining
pilot, a Russian who had been wounded during the first bombardment,
to Chifu with as many refugees as could find accommodation. General
Stoessel was anxious to be rid of all but his soldiers, though many
who were sent away would have benefited by some months of hard labour
on the fortifications. As a result there were no non-belligerents
to exhaust the supply of provisions. The inhabitants constituted a
garrison of formidable strength, who now attended to the business of
war.
At the end of April the Russian forces were driven out of Korea; at the
beginning of May the Japanese crossed the Yalu.
Then the Japanese plan of campaign developed with rapidity. The first
army under General Kuroki, reinforced from transports arriving at the
Yalu, marched north from Antung.
On May 5, the Japanese commenced to land a second army under General
Oku, at Pitsewo, between the Yalu and the Kwan-tung peninsula. This
army marched west and threatened the railway to Port Arthur. The
Viceroy, Admiral Alexeiev, left hurriedly before noon on May 5, having
with him the Grand Duke Boris, and some members of his staff. The fleet
was left under the command of Admiral Vitgert, and the commander of the
_Novik_, Captain Essen, raised in rank, until the arrival of Admiral
Skrydlov; the command passed afterward to Prince Ukhtomsky of the
_Peresviet_.
Owing to the propinquity of the Japanese, a car of wounded was attached
to the Viceroy’s train, and a Red Cross flag was shown when the train
was stopped by the enemy’s infantry near Puliantien. Two days later the
line of communication was cut.
There was a force of more than 30,000 men on the Kwan-tung peninsula,
and these, co-operating with General Kuropatkin’s army operating from
the north, managed to restore the railway communication temporarily. A
typhoon interfered with the disembarkation of Japanese troops from the
transports at Pitsewo; and if vigorous action had then been taken to
oppose the invaders, the situation might have been retrieved.
The Russian force at Kaiping, co-operating with the railway guards,
drove the Japanese from the line and repaired the permanent way. A
train load of ammunition arrived at Mukden after the line had been
cut; it was sent to Vaffienten, whence Lieut.-Colonel Spiridonov
undertook to convey it to Kinchow. Everything was in readiness to blow
up the train if by any chance the Japanese attacked in such force as
again to take temporary possession of the line. The 4th Siberian Rifles
provided an escort, and the well-armed train ran the gauntlet of the
enemy’s rifle fire for hours. At Kinchow it was handed over to Colonel
Yokov, belonging to the Kwan-tung force, and brought safely to Port
Arthur. That same night the Japanese advanced towards Kinchow, and next
day a force was landed from thirty transports at Port Adams on the west
shore of the Liaotung peninsula.
Supported by fire from their fleet, the Japanese succeeded in effecting
the establishment of their second army across the railway line, and
occupying the isthmus from shore to shore. They were attacked again
and again from both north and south, but the attempts to dislodge them
were unsuccessful. On June 24, they fought the battle of Nanshan,
winning the position though suffering heavy losses. They won by
their usual tactics, a heavy flank attack made simultaneously with
a frontal attack--the latter usually consisting of two distinct and
separate attacks made at the same time from different points, the
whole constituting a combination the Russians have never resisted with
ultimate success. In the engagement the flanking party had to advance
along the seashore; men of both armies waded out into the water and
fought each other there. The Japanese at last swam round the extremity
of the Russian right wing, drove it in towards the centre, and then
completed the turning movement which proved successful and forced the
Russian army to retire upon its temporary base at Kaiping.
Before advancing further the Japanese established themselves
securely in their advantageous position across the isthmus. With
trenches and fortifications they rendered themselves safe from any
attack which General Stoessel might make with the 30,000 men at his
disposal. Towards the north they presented a much more formidable
front. So strong was their position, that no number of men General
Kuropatkin could command at any time might be deployed so as to attack
simultaneously. The isthmus, like a mountain pass, could be held for an
indefinite period by a comparatively small force, and without a fleet
no flank attack could be made upon their position.
The Liaotung peninsula, tapering southward, may be likened to a
tun-dish of which the isthmus is the funnel, and midway in that funnel
the Japanese position could be attacked by an army presenting a front
no wider than their own lines, a position in which not more men could
be employed to attack simultaneously than they, at any time, were able
to provide for its defence--a position against which the whole of the
military forces of Russia may be hurled in quick succession yet not be
able to take by storm. As long as it is supported by the Japanese fleet
on east and west, it is absolutely impregnable.
It cut off Port Arthur from Manchuria effectually and permanently.
[Illustration: THE FORTRESS OF PORT ARTHUR.]
CHAPTER XIV
The Defence of Port Arthur
Having established themselves firmly in Kwan-tung by the end of May,
the Japanese once more assumed the offensive.
The first army under General Kuroki advanced rapidly towards Liaoyang,
making flanking movements eastward, and at Motienling Pass threatening
not only the Russian position at Liaoyang but opening a route for a
flanking movement further north upon Mukden.
The second army, under General Oku, advanced on Kaiping, thence north
upon Tashichiao, to new and old Newchwang and Haicheng.
The Takushan army, co-operating with General Oku’s force, advanced from
its landing point west of Antung to Haicheng, forming the connecting
link between the first and second armies.
The third army under General Nogi, landed at Dalny, swept through the
Kwan-tung peninsula southward, and attacked Port Arthur. Every mile
of this ground was savagely contested, the Russians being driven
from position to position, and gradually retiring upon the outer
defences of the fortress. Altogether some two months were passed in
opposing the Japanese advance. For days together the town would be
continuously bombarded from the sea. As General Nogi advanced he was
aided by a terrific bombardment of the coast from Dalny to Takushan,
just outside the north-east forts of Port Arthur. The main weight of
this advance was borne by General Fuchs and his Siberian division.
The Russians repulsed an attempted landing at Kerr Bay, where General
Nadin was severely wounded. The naval authorities were busy in clearing
the navigable channel so that the repaired battleships might leave
the harbour for the outer roadstead, and the torpedo-boat flotilla
was occupied every day, being repeatedly driven in by the Japanese
squadron blockading the port. From the Liaotishan forts at the southern
extremity of the peninsula the Japanese vessels were cannonaded
whenever within range, and there, and elsewhere, new batteries were
established to command the coast immediately under the great forts.
The fortifications on the Metre Range, High Hill and the heights
outside the line of the land forts, were hurried to completion, and
temporary forts were improvised in many situations, this work being
directed by General Kondratiev, who had with him all the artillery
officers who could be spared from the batteries, which were manned by
the minimum number of hands compatible with efficiency. A completely
covered shell-proof trench connected all the forts of each group on the
hills, and trenches and entanglements were provided for the outworks
protecting the forts. By the exercise of ceaseless vigilance and making
a determined opposition to every change of position the Japanese
attempted, General Fuchs delayed the close investment of the fortress
until July had passed. In these contests the Japanese lost heavily,
lost far more heavily than the Russians, who almost invariably acted
entirely on the defensive, resisting with stubbornness and allowing
themselves to be driven out of a position when their commanders knew
that by falling back upon the next defence they would be in a better
position to injure the enemy still more. The Japanese advance was slow,
but none the less sure; they sacrificed life without stint to obtain
possession of any subsidiary position they deemed of importance. The
Russians husbanded their resources as well as they were able.
The attacks on the Russian positions, on the town, the harbour and the
forts, were incessant, and the havoc wrought was terrible. The town
became untenable; the inhabitants had to seek shelter in cellars, in
specially excavated shell-proof caves, under the face of the gravel
pit, in the stone quarries; but safest of all were the refuges in the
great forts.
The source of the town water supply was controlled by the Japanese,
but the great freshwater lake behind Golden Hill and the many wells
furnished sufficient for all needs. But life was intolerable. The
furious bombardments rained shells everywhere. The hospitals were full;
men scarcely able to walk were sent into the forts and the trenches.
The medical stores became exhausted, and that wonderful explosive
Shimose, burst shells into rugged splinters which made the ugliest
of wounds and mutilated the human form beyond recognition. Men were
blown to ribands. Others were stripped of flesh, and skin and limbs;
the victims were mutilated, sickening spectacles; they uttered piteous
cries and harrowing moans. Shocking remnants of living sentient men
struggled helplessly to rid themselves of torn, mangled, and peeled
limbs, or twitched and sprawled helplessly, attempting to hold together
all that remained of their poor, bleeding, lacerated bodies. Shapeless
and discoloured human flesh strewed the ground; it became impossible
either to gather or bury many of the dead.
Until the Russians were really hemmed in the fortress itself there
seemed to be opportunities for escape. Day by day junks arrived with
fresh provisions; they brought news, they would carry away whoever
thought the risk of running the blockade to be less than that of the
bombardment.
These junks, and an occasional steamer, would clear from Chifu for
Newchwang or _vice versa_. Their course required them to round
Liaotishan. When they reached that point, if there were no Japanese
vessels between them and the coast they ran into Pigeon Bay or Louisa
Bay, or some other creek near the spot, discharged their cargoes, and
as soon afterwards as opportunity served, continued their voyage. If
Japanese vessels were in sight, they held to their course past the
promontory, and, if intercepted and boarded, produced for the benefit
of the Japanese papers which proved the ostensible trade they followed.
The great firm of Kunst & Albers had enormous shipments afloat for
their depôts at Vladivostok, Port Arthur and the Amur when war began.
These cargoes were delivered at their branch establishment at Kiaochow
(Tsintau), which suddenly assumed vast importance. The staff there
was strengthened, particularly in the shipping department. The stores
arriving were reshipped quickly by coasting steamers and junks. Under
the German, the Norwegian and the Chinese flags they reached ultimately
that port where prices ruled highest. In July access to the creeks
became more difficult; early in July Louisa Bay was not safe, and a
month later Pigeon Bay could not be approached from the land side
without great risk, and junks had then to sail up the eastern coast
to the entrance of Port Arthur itself, a point usually under close
scrutiny.
The entrance to the port was cleared; the torpedo-boat flotilla made
reconnoitring excursions from time to time. In the middle of June the
_Lt. Barukhov_, one of the Elbing torpedo-boat destroyers captured from
the Chinese in 1900, made a trip to Newchwang and back, escaping the
blockading steamers with ease. She was sunk in Pigeon Bay in July when
reconnoitring.
The fleet was of so little use to the defence, and so coveted by the
Japanese, that it was determined in July to make a sortie at the first
favourable opportunity; disperse on meeting the enemy, and by taking
every which way then, baffle pursuit and so most would have a good
chance of making a neutral port before being overtaken.
Before this final sortie was attempted the navigable channel was
cleared of the Russian mines, the approaches were protected with new
defences--mines, booms, chains and sunken craft. The torpedo-boat
flotilla reconnoitred daily. When all was ready, the sortie was made.
There was a running fight, and four of the ships reached neutral
ports. The _Novik_, in attempting to reach Vladivostok, was attacked
by Admiral Kamimura’s squadron and was beached by Captain Essen near
Korsakov port on Saghalien island. With this sortie on August 10, the
supposed value of the Russian navy at Port Arthur disappeared from
the list of the forces available for the defence of Manchuria. The
_Poltava_, _Peresviet_ and _Sevastopol_ returned to port damaged, and
the last was further injured by a mine whilst manœuvring on August 23.
The result of the battle of Tashichiao, and of General Kuropatkin’s
attempt to advance southward, was known about three days after the
evacuation of Newchwang. At the time General Alexeiev was losing the
battle of Ma-shan and General Kuropatkin’s army had to retreat on
Liaoyang without attempting to hold the fortified position at Haicheng,
General Stoessel decided to abandon the campaign in the Kwan-tung
peninsula and withdraw all his forces into the fortress of Port Arthur.
The Japanese investing force thereupon established a line of batteries
across the peninsula on the north of the Sui-shi valley, from Hao-sui
bay, south of the Dalny peninsula on the east, by way of Sui-shi-tung
and Ho-shi-tung to Louisa Bay on the west.
It was evident to General Stoessel that General Nogi would attempt to
carry the fortress by a frontal attack, and that in all probability
he would follow the same route as had been taken ten years before,
when Marshal Oyama had captured the fortress from the Chinese. On
that occasion General Nogi, who was now commanding the attack, had led
the central division of General Yamaji’s force, which had forced its
way into the line of forts by the gap through which the Dalny high
road passes. As on that occasion, the central attack was made almost
simultaneously with a flanking attack on the north-eastern side--more
directly towards Golden Hill, and a simultaneous flanking attack from
the north by the gap through which the railway now runs. Consequently
the troops defending were most strongly disposed to resist attacks by
those routes.
Surely enough the Japanese attempted to repeat the success of 1894 by
identical tactics; but before these could be commenced the Russian
forces at the extremities of the line would have to be displaced, as
otherwise they would attack the advancing column on both the flanks.
The Russian eastern position was Takushan, where a stout resistance was
made. This point was held by four guns and three thousand infantry. The
Japanese shelled the position from upwards of 3,000 yards with siege
guns, and later with four howitzer batteries. On August 9 the defending
force abandoned the position after inflicting severe losses on the
Japanese. Casualties: Japanese, 1,400 men out of action; Russians, 900.
The Russians were next called upon to defend the heights commanding
Louisa Bay, and abandoned the hills on the south-east after several
engagements spread over some days.
On August 17 General Stoessel received a demand from Major Yamoka
asking for the surrender of the fortress. The demand was refused.
The Russians had made every preparation for attack, and were confident
that each attempt would be repulsed, guarded as the positions were with
the guns of the forts, machine guns, masked forts, the great trench
with its hidden batteries commanding every section of its whole length,
the wire entanglements, mines and numerous obstructions. If these did
not render the fortress impregnable, they gave its defenders such an
immense superiority of position that it seemed no number of men the
attacking force could bring against it in succession would be able to
overwhelm the many defences which had been constructed.
It appears that General Nogi intended to make a direct attack on the
Panlung forts behind Takushan simultaneously with one on Kikwan fort,
which, if carried, would leave the town at the mercy of the invaders
and isolate every other fort of the inner ring of defence.
The general bombardment commenced on August 19, and was directed mainly
upon the Panlung and Kikwan forts, but the only real damage done was
the ignition of the powder magazine in Kikwan on the following day,
when the defenders took to the covered way connecting the forts, and
withdrew to the south Kikwan fort.
At the same dates the forts south-east of Louisa Bay were again shelled
from concealed batteries on the flats near the seashore.
By night the Japanese infantry attempted to storm the position, but
were stopped by the wire entanglements, which they did their utmost
to cut, even to bite through, and at last rendered ineffective by
attaching lines to the poles and pulling the whole obstruction away
bodily and rolling it aside. Metre Hill was stormed and captured on
August 20, and was then shelled unceasingly for days by the Russians,
who maintained also a constant machine-gun and rifle fire in the hope
that the position would be rendered untenable. About the same time
the Japanese seized Sui-shi-ying, also a position a quarter of a mile
nearer to Wolf Mountain, but from this they were driven by machine-gun
fire from the Metre Hill batteries.
On August 21 the bombardment of the Kikwan forts became hotter and
hotter, and late in the day two infantry regiments, who had with them
scaling ladders, carried the outer defences of the Kikwan fort by storm
and occupied the fort by morning.
The adjoining fort, East Panlung, was one of the most fiercely
contested of all the siege. It had been admirably strengthened. The
besiegers were forced to attack in close formation; the entanglements
and obstructions concentrating them to points upon which machine-gun
fire converged, and decimated the attacking companies, whose survivors
were so few when they reached the parapet that the defenders had little
difficulty in repulsing them. The Japanese were as determined to win
the position as the Russians were to hold it. Lieut. Kitagawa was
fortunate enough among the besiegers to reach the fort and to plant
the flag on its wall. He was followed by a few desperate men, who
swarmed over the breastwork, and were supported by new arrivals. In
the hand-to-hand conflict inside the fort the Japanese were winners,
There was a desperate and long-continued struggle, fought out with
rifles, bayonets, swords, grenades, and even stones--whichever weapon
or missile came first to hand. The Russians late in the afternoon took
to the covered way and fell back by it, still fighting ferociously,
to Wantai Hill fort, for that far did the victorious besiegers pursue
them towards the town. During the night the Russians made several
ineffectual attempts to recapture the position.
The Japanese held also the North Kikwan fort, but from that they
were driven out in a close encounter on the following day, after the
position had been mercilessly shelled for hours.
The attack had proceeded almost without intermission for four days, and
the besiegers had secured only a dangerous footing on the Kikwan fort
as the result of a most strenuous and determined attack by all ranks.
At this one vantage point the Japanese began to mass troops,
distracting the attention of the Russians from the manœuvre by a
demonstration in force against the Tung-yen redoubts.
The Russians during the night made an attempt to retake the lost
positions. A sortie from Wantai Hill was made an hour before midnight
on August 23; the Russians drove the Japanese back on Panlung, thence
down the hill to a position near the railway, where a knoll afforded
them cover until reinforcements arrived. At one in the morning the
Russians withdrew to the forts before the Japanese, and by the covered
way to the south fort, which they held against the Japanese, who,
however remained in possession of the outer works of the Panlung
fortifications.
An attack was delivered at the same time on Etseshan, but the Russians
with their search-lights so exposed to fire the progress made by the
Japanese that the attack was pushed on in half-hearted fashion only,
and ere dawn broke it was definitely abandoned.
For six days and nights there had been fighting almost without a
moment’s intermission. Notwithstanding the tremendous efforts made,
the attack was ineffective. Everywhere the invaders had been repulsed.
Even at sea the _Retvizan_ from the entrance to the harbour, with some
torpedo-boat destroyers, had driven away some Japanese gunboats and
destroyers firing at the south-eastern forts at the time the general
attack had been planned to take place. The Japanese fleet did not take
any great part in these assaults.
During the fighting much rain fell. The night was made lighter than day
by the numerous brilliant search-lights from the Russian positions.
The Japanese were everywhere delayed by obstructions, and hampered
by the light thrown upon their attempts during the night to cut wire
entanglements or remove them. A strong electric current was passing
through the wires of the entanglements, and thus it was injury or death
to whomsoever tried to cut them: yet there were seen occasionally
Japanese lying on their backs and with their teeth attempting to nip
through the dead wires of these murderous traps. Under the search-light
the men shammed to be dead or wounded: when this was understood the
Russians failed to respect the Red Cross flag.
Undaunted by death, recking nothing of the fate of those who
had preceded them in the same endeavour, the Japanese advanced
relentlessly, unceasingly, as those impelled by instinct. There were
no bugles, no drums, no music, no hurrahs, no cries of “Banzai,” but
in absolute silence the besiegers went on, now in the glare of the
brilliant, blinding electric light, then a little time in its shadow or
suddenly exposed by floating lights from rockets and star shells--and
in the end all failed.
An eye-witness writes of the attack on Etseshan: “I watched the assault
of a ghostly mass of moving figures, through which continual lanes were
made by our guns, admitting glimpses of the scenes behind. These gaps
were closed up as if by magic, and the mass surged onward, while our
men, forsaking the trenches sought the shelter of the forts. On they
came until close to us. The mines exploded and the earth opened. Bodies
were hurled into the air, and then sank again to earth. Hands clutched
rifles, and in the moonlight bayonets looked like fireworks shooting
upwards and descending point downwards into the body of a man--but in
silence.”
A correspondent with the Japanese forces states that the mines seemed
to be but little used, and were found to be ineffective. The losses of
the Japanese he estimates at 14,000, in addition to 8,000 incapacitated
through illness, and 16,000 suffering from beri-beri. The losses were
made good from men of the second reserve landed at Dalny, and the work
of the besiegers never slackened.
The attack having been repulsed, General Stoessel determined upon a
sortie in force, to drive the Japanese from the positions they had
established in the Sui-shi valley.
During the six days’ fighting and the lull that followed, the Russian
gunners and scouts had managed to locate the positions of different
masked batteries, and these positions were subjected to a heavy
fire. A general advance was made at early dawn on August 27, during
a thunderstorm, but it was repulsed, and then General Stoessel
attempted to accomplish piecemeal what he had wished to win at a single
engagement.
There was almost incessant shelling of the Panlung positions held by
the Japanese. Sniping was practised day and night, and night after
night sorties were made from Kikwan, Wantai and Erhlung to retake the
forts, but they were repulsed, the Japanese losing on an average a
hundred men as the result of each assault. By September 8 the Panlung
forts were no longer tenable, and were relinquished.
On August 27 two Japanese guns were silenced by firing from Kuransky
battery.
Pushing on towards a successful counter attack, General Stoessel
had scouting parties sent into the Sui-shi valley; in the course of
these reconnoitring expeditions some men of the 26th Rifles reached
Sui-shi-ling and encountered the Japanese guard. Returning they
attacked one of the Japanese trenches, the occupants decamping and
leaving their weapons in the trench. The Russians followed them for
some distance without being opposed, and ultimately returned to the
redoubts. Other pioneers found the Japanese trenches deserted, and
scouting parties went far afield, for the besiegers appeared to have
withdrawn from immediate proximity to the Russian fortifications.
The Japanese retreated still further north, on their positions being
shelled on August 28, but at five o’clock on the following day returned
to the attack by opening fire on the redoubts from Fort 3 to Fort 13,
and shelling Small Eagle’s Nest (Etse-shan) with shrapnel and five-inch
shells.
That evening Lieut. Ivashenko led a detachment of the 26th Siberian
Rifles and some of the Kwan-tung Marines (3rd company of Port Arthur
Marine Guards) from Rock Ridge towards the Japanese redoubt, and
occupied the trenches about 9.30 in the evening. The Japanese opened
fire from machine guns and met the men’s bayonets with rifle fire, but
retreated into the redoubts, a position so small a force could not
attempt to storm.
The night of August 30 passed quietly, the outposts of both sides
keeping within their former respective lines. At ten o’clock on the
following morning it was observed that a party of Japanese cavalry in
file was approaching a village just back of Angle Hill (Antszshan), and
that ten wagons, escorted by fifteen troopers, were making for the same
place. Fire was immediately opened on them and successfully scattered
the train.
About twelve o’clock midnight, August 30, the search-lights revealed
a Japanese torpedo-boat near White Wolf Bay, not far from one of the
sunken steamers. She fired on the search-light, but was driven off
by fire from Tiger Tail coast forts and shots from the guardship and
fortress, apparently suffering some damage.
Although the Japanese seemed to be paralyzed by the non-success of
their persistent attack, they maintained a constant fire on the Russian
positions, and on the town. On August 29 a shell falling in China
Town caused a fire which spread with alarming rapidity. The town fire
brigade were successful in confining the outbreak to some stores of
butter and matches. The volume of dense smoke which arose from the
conflagration spurred the Japanese gunners to renewed effort, with the
result that much damage was done in the town and the fire brigade also
suffered.
Port Arthur was at this time in ruins. The houses and stores in the
Old Town were demolished or uninhabitable. The townsmen, as well as
the troops, lived in the bomb-proof trenches, or in caves, some of
which suffered at times, for there seemed to be no spot absolutely safe
from the rain of shell. Most of the fighting was done in the trenches
outside the line of forts, and even civilians were requisitioned to
take their turn, but these had ten days off duty after a term at the
front. The soldiers got little rest, and all prayed that soon the guns
of Kuropatkin’s army might be heard as he approached to raise the siege
and relieve the fortress.
With September General Nogi put aside for a time direct assaults
and frontal attacks. The engineers were set to work with a view to
undermining a coveted position and by sapping and blasting create a
breach which could not be repaired, a breach by which the Japanese
could effect an entry more easily.
The approach by parallels had been proposed in June, and was abandoned
only when it was discovered that the material was hard and unsuited to
mining. The progress was very slow even after a fair start had been
made.
The artillery duel was maintained, the Japanese bringing up many
reinforcements of every arm. On September 3 the Etseshan battery was
silenced by ten-inch shells, and the breastwork brought down by the
fire.
The Japanese, before reaching the line of forts, had still to capture
the Tung-yen Redoubt before Erhlung-shan, and the works on Métre hills
before Antszshan and Etseshan, also lunettes near the railway to the
south of Sui-shi.
It was not until September 20 that the attack on these positions became
possible.
The tactics employed were the same throughout. First, there was a
general artillery fire upon the redoubts and the forts behind them,
all along the line in fact. This heavy bombardment raged from early
dawn until past mid-day. Then it was concentrated upon the advanced
positions it was intended to assault.
Saps were run to within fifty yards of the lunettes. From these covered
ways two regiments, well provided with hand grenades, suddenly rushed
on the position. A hard fight ensued, but the attacks were repulsed
from all three lunettes assaulted. The next morning, by using scaling
ladders, the Japanese got into the lunettes, drove the Russians from
them into their trenches, and pursued them. In this way the three
lunettes under Kikwan and Antszshan were taken. On the 19th and 20th
the Japanese from their trenches also assaulted Tung-yen, which was
held by two companies, having three field pieces and a number of
machine guns. There was a deep moat around the position, and batteries
placed to command all approaches should the redoubt be stormed. A
breach was made by artillery, and the little garrison dismayed by
constant shrapnel fire. It was then attacked simultaneously on opposite
sides, but both attacks were repulsed. After further cannonading
the Japanese made another attack on the position; they reached the
enclosure, used bombs and hand grenades with great effect in their
hand-to-hand encounter, but when the Russians gave way they took their
guns with them, and inflicted very heavy loss on the besieging force.
Nevertheless the position had been gained, at the cost of a thousand
lives perhaps, yet gained to the besiegers, and lost to the defenders,
who thereby risked being driven within their line of forts.
The next position the besiegers had to secure was the low plateau
at the foot of the forts, known as Métre Hills, between Wolf Hill,
Antszshan, Etseshan, and Louisa Bay. This position was protected by
wire entanglements, trenches, sandbag protecting screens, and a roof
of bullet-proof steel plates over important coigns of vantage. Railway
metals were also utilized to keep the earthworks solid, and the
armament included field guns, machine guns, and two heavy howitzers.
The position was taken after being subjected to long-continued
bombardment. First 180 Métre Hill, the main position, was made quite
untenable by shell fire; on the morning of September 21 the attack was
directed to 80 Métre Hill, which was captured by infantry that same
afternoon, the shrapnel fire being continued even after the infantry
were over the earthworks. 203 Métre Hill was attacked by one regiment
from a sap at the same date, but these men were killed in crossing
open ground extending about 300 yards. Another attack by two forces
acting conjointly was repulsed at dawn the next morning, with very
heavy loss. At noon a corner of the position was entered and secured.
It was shelled from all the batteries commanding the position; from
Antszshan to Liaotishan. Attacks were made afresh on the two succeeding
days, and the Russians then not only repulsed these, but continued to
hold the plateau, with the exception of 180 Métre Hill. The Japanese
sacrificed 2,400 men to obtain that one position, and lost over 1,000
in establishing themselves in the Tung-yen redoubt.
At the end of September the Japanese, after two months of unremitting
assault, had failed completely to break through the line of forts. The
Russians not only repulsed the besiegers with great loss, but were able
to make some successful counter attacks.
Mr. Norregaard, _Daily Mail_ representative with General Nogi’s army,
states that the fighting is of a most determined character. Quarter
is rarely sought or given. “Both sides use hand grenades filled
with gun-cotton, and with a fuse that burns for fifteen seconds.
These grenades were often picked up and re-thrown. They proved
very effective. Latterly, also, they have been fired from light
bamboo-hooped wooden mortars, whose range varies from 50 to 200 yards
with a regulated charge. Both Russians and Japanese frequently throw
stones at each other. It is generally impossible to cut the wire
entanglements.”
The position of the besieged did not improve. A correspondent wrote in
October: “Our principal forts are uninjured, but the houses in the town
are badly damaged. Most of them are in ruins, and the harbour works are
in a sad plight. Some of our ships have been injured by falling shells,
and it is impossible with our scant resources to repair them. We have
not a single bottle of anæsthetics. The food is of the coarsest, and
even that is beginning to be scarce, while there is much disease.”
The month of October brought no relief to the garrison, no change in
the tactics of the besiegers. For a short time the attention of the
gunners was given to the town, the fleet, and the harbour. In this
bombardment the _Peresviet_ and the _Pobieda_ were hit five times.
Then the besieged attempted a counter attack, directing themselves
particularly to the sappers mining under the Russian trenches, and to
the Japanese siege line at the foot of the hill forts. The Japanese
repulsed the attack, and retained their positions. On the 11th they
captured the railway bridge at the foot of Kikwan fort, but nearer
the town. On the two following days the harbour was shelled, and two
vessels were set on fire. On the 16th, after a desperate battle, the
Japanese captured the centre fort on Erhlung-shan, the most important
of the positions secured to that date.
On October 24 the Russians countermined the Japanese traverse under
Kikwan, and blew it up with dynamite. The same day there was again a
large fire in Russia-town.
The progress of the besiegers is slow, but now apparently more sure.
General Nogi reports: “The right column and a part of the central
column occupied at sunset of October 30 crest counterscarp of
Sungshu-shan, Erhlung-shan, Tung Kikwan-shan north forts, and destroyed
some of their flankers and outer trenches. Another part of the central
column, despite the enemy’s fierce fire, assailed and carried Fort P,
situated between Panlung-shan and Tung Kikwan-shan north forts.
“Russians delivered repeated counter assaults against this fort, and we
lost it at 10.30 p.m.; but General Ichinohé successfully re-occupied it
at 11 p.m. The General captured three field guns, two machine guns,
three Fish torpedoes, and many other trophies, and found forty Russians
dead. The left column captured in the same day Kobuyma Fort, situated
in the north-east of Tung Kikwan-shan.
“On October 31 we attacked the harbour and the shipyard with large
calibre and naval guns, hitting the _Gilyak_ several times, and sinking
two steamers.
“On November 1 two steamers in the western harbour, of about 3,500 tons
each, and on November 2 another steamer of about 3,000 tons, were sunk.
Violent explosions, probably of powder magazines, heard twice in the
north end of the city.
“We commenced at noon, November 3, a heavy bombardment with naval guns
against the shipyard and other places in the east of the harbour, where
fire broke out at a quarter-past twelve p.m., raging till four the
next morning. On the same day our bombardment with large calibre guns
inflicted considerable damage on Fort 4.”
The saps were driven nearer to 203 Métre Hill, and at the end of
November another, and this time successful, attempt was made to carry
the position by storm. The position, and others, were shelled heavily
from dawn until mid-day on November 30. A strong storming party then
rushed to the south-eastern corner, but was repulsed. The cannonading
was resumed; later in the day a second party essayed to reach the
fortifications, but was repulsed; another charge had no better success.
At five in the afternoon a fourth party made a hasty charge, reached
the breastworks, and fighting ferociously won; some men reached within
a hundred feet of the summit. It was seven o’clock before these could
be reinforced to an extent which enabled them to carry the position,
which they occupied at eight o’clock that evening. The Japanese losses
were very heavy, and the Russians left many dead in the fort. The
position has been shelled repeatedly since the end of November, but it
would seem that the Japanese cannot now be driven from the Métre range
of hills by gun fire, nor is it likely that the Russians can afford
to lose the men which all attempts to regain the fortress by direct
assault would entail.
At the end of November, therefore, the Russians hold still intact the
fortress of Port Arthur; some of the outworks of the forts on the north
and west are in the hands of the besiegers, but it is not proved that
they can hold these positions, as from the forts immediately behind
them they can doubtless be fired upon in such a way that it will be
impossible for the besiegers to use guns from any of these positions.
If this be so, they have gained, by sacrificing nearly 20,000 men,
only a stepping-stone which may be of use to them in reaching the line
of forts by assaults, nothing more.
In any event, it would appear that Port Arthur will be won little by
little; it will be captured piecemeal at an enormous sacrifice of life,
but that it will be captured no one has any doubt. General Stoessel is
unlikely to surrender until he is stormed in his stronghold on Golden
Hill or on Liaotishan. His losses have been heavy, but not so great
as those of the besiegers, and in the struggle to come he will have
advantages the outer defences did not place at his disposal, so that
the Japanese losses may be even more appalling than the figures yet
published indicate. But the siege cannot continue indefinitely. One of
the latest messages received from within the fortress states: “There
will come a time when there will be no bearing the inconveniences of
the siege, due to sickness, scarcity of food, and cramped quarters;
no enduring the unceasing hell of bursting shells--shattering houses,
killing unfortunate friends, and tearing huge holes in the ground--to
say nothing of the miasma arising from a thousand corpses rotting on
the hills and in the ravines round the forts. Lately the bombardments
have increased in fury, and the fiery messengers of hate and
destruction greet us every minute.”
CHAPTER XV
Japan’s Requirements and China’s Future
The official reasons for the war between Russia and Japan are known,
but there are matters which lie deeper than the ostensible excuses
made for the serious step Japan has taken. All know that Russia has
curtailed Japan’s fisheries; that she has the control in south-western
Manchuria of all the supplies of beancake upon which the Japanese
depend entirely for the intensive cultivation of the poor and shallow
soil which covers their islands; and they know that Russia, by her
policy in reference to Korea, intended to control the supplies of both
timber and rice so necessary to the welfare of the Japanese. What
people wish to know is how far Japan is prepared to carry the war into
the enemy’s country if she continues to be successful, and what are now
the conditions upon which she will accept peace.
I have endeavoured to find out from the Japanese themselves what is
the minimum gain which will content them. I have asked Russians,
too, but the only reply they have made is that Japan must be utterly
vanquished--many of them still believe that she will be--must
relinquish everything she has gained temporarily, and be taught a
lesson of humiliation she will never forget. They do not descend to
particulars when asked how this is to be accomplished. The position,
therefore, must be taken from the Japanese point of view, as that is
the only one profitable for examination in detail now.
In the first place, Japan was determined not to be bluffed by Russia:
her first stroke was intended to make that known to her adversary.
Next, she intended to drive the Russians out of Korea: that she
promptly effected. Then her object was to destroy the Russian fleet,
and deprive Russia of a naval base in the Far East, so that for many
years to come Japan may enjoy peace so far as Russia is concerned. This
is in process of execution, and will be effected before Japan stays her
hand. Thus far we are upon firm ground.
It is doubtful whether Japan intends to turn Russia out of the three
provinces which comprise Manchuria, or even means to attempt so much.
Japan would like the Russian forces to retreat upon Harbin quickly. If
that were done, she believes that with the forces now at her command
she could attack and capture Harbin--which has only improvised
defensive works--and so bring about a further withdrawal, compelling
the Russian Commander-in-Chief to decide whether he will attempt to
hold the railway between Harbin and Vladivostok, or abandon the eastern
line and fall back towards Khailar and Siberia. It will be a serious
situation. With the Japanese at Harbin, the Russian retreat westward
may be cut off by a river force proceeding up the Nonni to the railway
crossing south of Tsitsikar. The abandonment of the eastern line will
mean the fall of Vladivostok, and leave the Ussuri province and all the
Russian settlements on the Amur at the mercy of the Japanese army.
There cannot be any doubt that Japan will try her utmost to reach and
occupy Harbin. Very possibly she will attempt to occupy that position
permanently, since it is the junction of the railways from Port Arthur
and Vladivostok, and is also valuable because the Sungari, the most
important tributary of the Amur, gives communication to many of the
Russian settlements in Northern Manchuria and Eastern Siberia.
If Russia wills it so, and is prepared to accept conditions, it seems
possible that the actual Japanese invasion will terminate at Harbin,
and that Japan will establish herself there, and hold a large force
in readiness for emergencies, possibly for a further advance at some
future time. The potentialities of such a military situation will be
enormous. Assuming that Japan will halt at the second crossing of the
Sungari river, she will be in possession of the Fengtien and Kirin
provinces, the two most densely populated territories of Manchuria,
the richest in mineral and agricultural wealth, and the better part
of the Chinese Empire occupied by Russia since the Boxer rising. She
will command absolutely the railway approach to Port Arthur, Dalny,
Vladivostok, and the Ussuri lines. Japan’s ambition extends somewhat
further. The territory west of Harbin between the Sungari River and
Tsitsikar is a high plain, well suited to grazing but of no immediate
agricultural value. It has no attractions for the Japanese The land
to the east of Harbin is better from the agriculturist’s point of
view. The Ussuri Province of Eastern Siberia is a fertile, fairly
settled and partly cultivated territory rich in promise. It is well
wooded, possesses large timber, and has coal, iron, silver, and other
valuable mineral deposits. The deep inlets of its shores, from Possiet
northwards to the Amur river, are like Norwegian fiords, and the seas
teem with fish and that marine vegetable life from which much of the
food supply of Japan and Northern China is drawn. The coast fisheries
are of the first importance to the welfare of both Japan and Korea.
Japan wishes, and will attempt to obtain, the freedom of these waters.
In order to prevent Russia from reimposing the taxes she has levied
on the fisheries and restricting the rights of Korean and Japanese
fishermen, or excluding them from earning their livelihood on the
littoral of the Primorski province, Japan will dominate the Ussuri
Province, if not annex it, or restore it to the Chinese empire from
which it was taken a generation ago.
Japan is unlikely to seek any territorial aggrandisement beyond the
frontier of Korea; but she does wish to attain and maintain a position
which will allow her to dictate absolutely in what manner the two
southern provinces of Manchuria and the Ussuri province of Siberia
shall be occupied and exploited. If she has a strong military force at
Harbin she will be able to effect this end. It is, I believe, a part
of Japan’s policy. It means that Japan will control the sea board from
the southernmost point of Korea to the mouth of the Amur, if not still
farther north to the sea of Okhotsk and Kamtschatka. Japan views as
rightly within her sphere of influence all the territory eastward of
the Liao river, the southern branch of the Eastern Chinese Railway, and
eastward of the Sungari from Harbin, the northern boundary being the
River Amur. In this territory Japan hopes to see Russia’s influence
wane and ultimately vanish. It is to that end she is working.
Japan may have to be content with very much less. Russia will give
most grudgingly ever so little, and only the force of very adverse
circumstances would compel her to grant so much. Possibly Japan must be
satisfied with a dominion which does not extend far north of Mukden,
but certainly will reach to the Liao.
Beyond Korea, therefore, certain portions of Manchuria will be won from
the Russians by the Japanese. It may be assumed that the territory
extends to the Amur, or the Sungari, or the Liao, or any other point.
What are the intentions of Japan with regard to such territory?
As conqueror she may, presumably, annex and occupy it absolutely.
For several reasons she has no intention of occupying Manchuria
permanently. She intends that the territory she wins back from Russia
shall revert to China, upon conditions.
The first condition is that the provinces ceded shall not again be
invaded by Russia; that there shall not again be any possibility of
Russia threatening Korea and Japan. Russia must not have an ice-free
port, not a naval base, not a dock, or repairing yard, nor must she be
allowed to occupy any fortified post which from its position may be
regarded as dangerous to Korea or Japan.
Port Arthur will be dismantled; the earthworks will be demolished;
the dockyard cleared, and the place reduced to an unimportant railway
terminus and fishing village, with some commerce coastwise in small
native craft. The fame and the value of Port Arthur are wholly
artificial. It is not the proper situation for the terminus of the
trans-continental railway; as a naval base it is useful only to Russia,
or some other European power having a forward policy in the Far East.
It will sink again to the obscurity from which Russia raised it--not
until then will it be handed over again to China.
Of Dalny even the expenditure of much government money has been unable
to make a success. The site was ill chosen; the place has no trade,
serves no real purpose, and by the Russians was termed “Lishni,” the
“unwanted.” Dalny is dead.
The Eastern Chinese Railway, of which Port Arthur was the military and
Dalny the commercial terminus, will continue to serve both places so
long as there is any traffic, and local traffic there always will be.
It may increase, but it will do so slowly unless nursed by some such
artificial methods as Russia employed. The Eastern Chinese Railway
will be joined to the Imperial Chinese Railways by a line of about
forty miles over a flat country between Mukden and Hsinmintun. That
is the direction most of the trans-continental and local traffic will
take; it will give through railway communication between Europe and
Peking.
The railway between Port Arthur and Harbin may be acquired directly
from Russia by the Chinese Government. It is much more likely to
be taken by the Japanese and sold to either the Chinese Railways
Administration, or to a syndicate of British and American capitalists.
The line runs through a rich country, and already there is sufficient
traffic obtainable to pay not only the expenses of working but a
fair interest on the actual heavy cost of construction. In fact,
the Harbin-Dalny section is the most profitable of all the Siberian
railways and its prospects are excellent. Should it be acquired either
by the Chinese, or by a foreign syndicate, it will be doubtless
converted to the standard gauge of the Chinese railways, and be worked
by a similar staff. Already the Japanese are reducing the gauge over
the sections in their possession.
The fate of that section of the Eastern Chinese Railway between Harbin
and Pogranichnaya cannot be foreseen. If the Japanese establish
themselves at Harbin, it may be disposed of in the same manner as
the southern section, or the Russian authorities may have running
powers over it, or it may be allowed to remain wholly in the hands
of Russia--since it connects with the Ussuri railway which has one
terminus at Vladivostok, and the other at Khabarovsk on the River Amur.
For obvious reasons, I think Japan will endeavour to obtain and keep
control of this eastern section, and of the Ussuri railway. Should
she do this the Russian terminus of the Trans-Siberian Railway will
be Harbin, unless the northern, original route be continued and the
line prolonged eastward from Stretensk on the Shilka. Russia will be
asked to relinquish the Island of Saghalien--taken from Japan when she
was a weak power--the Aleutian, Prybilov, and other sealing islands
of the north Pacific. These Japan wishes to have absolutely, valuing
them higher than a foothold upon the mainland of Siberia. Japan would
also like to occupy permanently the port, harbour, and works at
Vladivostok, which she considers to be of greater value to her than
is Port Arthur. In short, Japan wishes to possess, or dominate, every
place which Russia might eventually utilize as a naval base. More than
this, Japan is determined to be the naval power of the East Pacific,
and should Russia ever possess a fighting navy, Japan intends to make
it impossible for that navy to have any permanent establishment in
the Far East. It is for this reason, the blocking of Russia from
approaches to ice-free water and the eastern seas, that Japan may find
it necessary to hold Harbin and dominate the lower reaches of the Amur,
and the Ussuri province.
Another point upon which Japan will insist is the opening up of
Manchuria to foreign trade. She will require of China, as a condition
precedent to handing over the territory, that at every place along the
railway lines and rivers at which Russia has, or had, settlements,
foreigners shall be free to reside and to carry on their calling, as in
the treaty ports. This has already been made known to China. As usual
the Chinese authorities demur to concede this, but Japan remains firm;
she will insist, and if necessary she will defy China, occupying and
administering the country, and dare China to turn her out by force of
arms.
This attitude of Japan is undoubtedly correct. By it she proves to the
powers that she has been fighting Russia on their behalf, and probably
she believes that she will have their moral support in obtaining her
end. But moral support may prove insufficient. Already the Chinese know
that Russia is not the great invincible military power they believed
her to be. They think that they are capable of doing what Japan has
done, and the northern viceroys talk of fighting Japan in preference
to having only a limited authority granted them in Manchuria. Their
attitude must be taken into account when the conditions of peace are
ripe for decision.
The next point profitable to consider is the intention of Japan
with reference to the immediate exploitation or development of
those portions of China she is winning back from Russia. As already
stated, Port Arthur is to be dismantled. No foreigners will in any
circumstances be allowed to stay there until after the conclusion of
the war. The same rule will apply to Dalny and Talienwan, for the whole
of the Kuan-tung peninsula is required by Japan as a naval and military
base. After the war, if it ends in favour of Japan, it is improbable
than any European firm will desire to become established there, other
places offering greater inducements.
For sufficient reasons, which need not be set forth in detail, the
Japanese will object to any Russians remaining longer on Manchurian
territory in their military occupation. They will object also to
persons of French, German, and Scandinavian nationality. Both
French and German subjects in the Far East, and especially those in
Manchuria, Siberia, and the quondam treaty port of Newchwang, have
shown themselves sympathisers with Russia, if not actual partisans in
the war. The Scandinavians, chiefly through the Danish East-Asiatic
Company, are still more closely identified with Russians, and the
Japanese even go so far as to say that the Danish and the Russian
flags are for all practical purposes identical. Throughout the Far
East Denmark is represented by the Russian Consuls; some of the Danish
East-Asiatic Company’s steamers were owned in their entirety and
absolutely by Russians, a fact the Japanese do not overlook, and will
not forget.
Manchuria therefore will be open first to persons of British and
American nationality. If they are quick to establish themselves there,
other nationals will be subject to the same adverse conditions as
British subjects endured under Russian rule and occupation.
Another point upon which Japan has decided is the future rule of
Manchuria. Japan does not intend that the three provinces shall revert
to the cruel despotism that obtained there under Chinese sovereignty.
Japan has proved in Formosa that brigands, outlaws, and the savage
natives the Chinese exploited, have become industrious law-abiding
peasants under the just administration of equitable laws.
The Hunghuses and outlaws of Manchuria are more likely than the
Formosan natives to appreciate a liberal government, and laws
administered with justice. All nations should support Japan in her
endeavour to free the enslaved Manchurian peasant. The Chinese coolie
is capable of being made into a law-abiding, sober, industrious, frugal
labourer, and if the experiment succeeds in Manchuria it may lead to
a reform in the government of the eighteen provinces of China Proper.
Possibly the moral, social, and physical welfare of the people count
for less than the correct division of the territorial spoils of war
among the conquerors; but this issue is fraught with such gigantic
potentialities, that it is to be hoped Japan will obtain her end,
and be the means of freeing the Chinese peoples from the tyranny of
a corrupt mandarin rule. The real opening up of Manchuria to foreign
settlement and trade will effect more than centuries of missionary
effort to the enlightenment of the people and the amelioration of
their lot. This opportunity must on no account be missed, whatever the
opinion of the Chinese Court may be on the subject.
The spoils of war which will go to the victors will include government,
freehold and leasehold estate; fortresses, dockyards, armaments and
munitions of war. The Chinese Eastern Railway may be regarded as
government property, and such rights as Russia legally possesses in it
will pass to the Japanese. There will be a war indemnity, but in the
Far East it is believed that whichever side wins, the war indemnity,
whatever its amount, will have to be paid by China. Should the Japanese
prove ultimate conquerors the war indemnity levied upon Russia will be
collected of China on account of the territory returned to the dominion
of the Chinese Emperor. Should Russia win, Japan will be unable to pay
a heavy indemnity, and China will be required to reimburse Russia for
the expense to which she will have been put in repelling the Japanese
invasion of Chinese territory. China’s protests will be futile in
either event.
The material gain Japan expects to win by the war may be summarized as
follows:--
(_a_) Saghalien and the sealing islands to become Japanese territory.
(_b_) The port and harbour of Vladivostok to be occupied by Japan
indefinitely.
(_c_) Port Arthur to be dismantled and made over to China on conditions.
(_d_) The rights of Russia in the Chinese Eastern Railway and in the
territory leased from China by Russia.
(_e_) The opening of Manchuria to Japanese trade and exploitation.
(_f_) The opening of the Amur and its tributaries to international
navigation.
(_g_) A war indemnity of unknown amount, to be paid by China.
These requirements are for the most part immaterial to European Powers.
The supporters of Japanese policy may expect to share in the privileges
Japan secures for her own people as traders in Manchuria, and in the
right of way in Siberian waters.
They will be neither gainers nor losers by the transference of
Saghalien, and the Russian islands in the Pacific, nor by the change in
the ownership of Vladivostok. Whilst some nationals will be losers by
the dismantling of Port Arthur and the disappearance from the Pacific
of the Russian naval stations, in all probability the world will be
distinctly the gainer, if, as is proposed, Manchuria and “Japanese
Siberia,” are opened to free commerce.
The empire of China expects to benefit largely if Japan wins, but if
this benefit is to be paid for by the Chinese people in extra taxes
levied in order that Japan may be paid out her share in the reconquered
Manchuria, then the Chinese people will have good reason to curse a war
which has added to their burdens and in no other way ameliorated their
condition.
China is as corrupt as her empire is vast; even the Japanese with whom
I have conversed on the subject declared that the task of regenerating
China was too great for them to attempt; the Chinese were hopelessly
incorrigible.
The bulk of the Chinese, though bound by tradition and the slaves of
their environment, are sensible, law-abiding people, whose greatest
need is a good government. It is not that there is one law for the rich
and another for the poor--there are laws for any and every class--but
there is justice for no one, only the foreigner.
I will take an instance. A rich corporation had a difference with a
rich contractor as to the quality of certain material supplied. In
England it would have been a case for a civil court, but in order to
obtain the return of their money they put the man in the _yamen_, and
being rich, paid the expected cumshaws, and in the course of time the
sum they demanded was extorted from the contractor. By that time the
_yamen_ officials had discovered that he was wealthy, and he was not
released until he was not only beggared, but his daughters had been
sold into slavery. The handful of snow thrown at the man became an
avalanche which overwhelmed him.
The magistrates are appointed for a term of three years, and count upon
receiving in cumshaws the first year as much as they paid in order to
secure the position; double that sum the second year, and the third
year double the second year’s income.
Is there any crime which justifies the State in flaying a woman to
death?
Perchance the visitor to a big Chinese city may happen on such an
execution in one of its streets. He may shut his eyes to the horrible
spectacle and pass by as the foreign resident does, or as a tourist he
may stay and watch, and as a souvenir buy at a German photographer’s a
set of snap-shots showing the various stages of the ghastly performance
of tearing the skin from the sentient flesh of a writhing human being
tied to the stake.
Only last September in modern Shanghai, a man was slowly starved to
death whilst exhibited in a wooden cage outside the gates of the city,
but only one English newspaper in the settlement thought the affair
called for mention. And Shanghai is the model settlement possessing a
municipal council which recently thought “shocking” an application to
permit newspapers to be sold in the streets!
A woman employed at one of the mills stole a small quantity of cotton
which she said she wrapped round her body in order to keep herself
warm; she was sentenced to 100 blows for this offence at the Mixed
Court, when the American assessor was on the bench with the Chinese
magistrate. The case is reported, without comment, in the _North China
Daily News_, January 20, 1904. This is a punishment which would not be
inflicted in England, and British mill owners in China ought to work
with conditions similar to those made in this country.
In another case, a British boy, name not published, was prosecuted
in the Consular Court for a long series of petty thefts from his
employers. In order not to spoil his future career he was ordered one
day’s imprisonment and immediately set free.
There are different punishments for an identical offence, the variation
being due to the nationality of the culprit. The penalty inflicted
upon a Chinese offender also varies in accordance with the nationality
of the accuser, or the assessor. The purpose of a European assessor
sitting conjointly with a Chinese magistrate is that a guilty person
shall not escape sentence, but the magistrate is not influenced by
Chinese law or the gravity of the offence so much as the consideration
of the penalty which will satisfy the foreigner. A convict may get 100,
200, or 500 blows, the number depending upon whether the assessor is
British, French, or German.
Generations of foreign intercourse, and the establishment of great
foreign settlements at her ports do not seem to have affected in the
least the essentially barbaric legal customs of China, or to have
ameliorated appreciably the condition of her people.
Missionary effort has not been much more successful. The very afternoon
that I sat with the Rev. John Ross in his beautiful home at Mukden,
outside the west gate of the city a woman of twenty-two was being
cruelly hacked into a thousand pieces before the eyes of an indifferent
concourse of idlers. For thirty years Mr. Ross has laboured valiantly
in Manchuria, but the customs, the laws and the barbarity of the people
continue as of old. And Mr. Ross is only one of some 4,000 missionaries
in China, men who strive and work on year after year, and hope, but
see no marked change in the masses, or prospect of changes to be
inaugurated by their rulers.
One reason for this failure is that Chinese converts are for the most
part men of poor station, men without power and possessing little or no
influence with the high officials. Indeed many of them are destitute,
the “rice-Christians” maintained by foreign charity, and despised by
their fellows.
The status of a Christian convert in China is similar to that of an
avowed atheist in this country. His relations plead with him and
reproach him, the bulk of the people contemn him, the officials despise
him and are not ready to help him. If persuasion will not win him back
to the conventions of the public his family try threats; the rage of
his ancestors at his apostasy, the dishonour he has brought upon them
and upon his living relatives; such wickedness as the gods will not
allow to go unpunished. If he remain obdurate they tell him of the fate
of other Christian converts, ask him if he wishes to be a tortured
martyr, hint that there is a strong secret body of the orthodox faith,
the old true believers of China, who mean to drive out of China the
foreign devils, and destroy all who believe as the foreigners believe,
and have forsaken the sacred faith of their forefathers and mock
the true religion. And the Chinaman, timid by nature, is influenced
at last; terrorized by these hints he goes to the missionary with a
story of a secret society of blood-thirsty vegetarians, the fearful
_tsiliti_, who are plotting to murder the missionaries and their
converts. The same story in various forms comes from so many converts
that the missionaries become alarmed, and write to the Consul, and
if the Consul has many such communications he too takes fright and
requests the presence of a gunboat, or some other drastic remedy, and
at once you have all the ingredients of an ugly international incident.
The Chinaman, of course, has not much chance if he tries to set the law
in motion against the foreigner. He has just to suffer what they put on
him.
When I was in Tientsin there was a coolie staggering under a prodigious
load of bricks, slowly pushing the barrow to which he was harnessed
along the correct side of the road, when a Cossack rode up from behind,
and finding a carriage coming the other way, so not allowing him room
to pass until it had gone by the barrow, he commenced to lash the bare
coolie with his whip for no other reason than that he was where he was,
and where he had a perfect right to be. An Englishman interfered, but
it was in the French Concession, and there, no more than in the British
or the Russian Concessions, would the coolie be likely to obtain
redress.
The future of the Chinese empire is of less moment than the fate of the
Chinese people. After so many attempts have been made to coerce the
Government, and to influence the people, it seems hopeless that any
plan will succeed.
But this war affords an opportunity for an experiment which I hope will
be tried--the establishment of a real Japanese control in China, in the
reconquered province of South Manchuria. Let the Japanese prove there
that they are not only warriors, but of a race capable of raising the
eastern people to their own level, able to instil new ideals, to imbue
others with self-respect. Let them establish in their midst courts of
justice, and schools such as exist in Japan. In the country they have
won let them govern. In China as in Japan let there be only one law,
applicable both to natives and foreigners; let there be fostered a
respect for justice and for authority; let there be a beginning made
with the real work of regenerating China, and the work done where the
Peking official will be powerless to interfere with its development, to
check its growth, or to stamp it out and reduce Manchuria to the level
of the China of to-day. If this be the outcome of the war, then Japan,
as a true civilizing force, will not have expended her strength and her
treasure in vain.
Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.
The Russo-Japanese Conflict
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Transcriber’s Notes.
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