The Sea Fight In The Waters Of Japan

On the memorable Saturday of May 27, 1905, in far eastern waters in

which the guns of war-ships had rarely thundered before, took place an

event that opened the eyes of the world as if a new planet had swept

into its ken or a great comet had suddenly blazed out in the eastern

skies. It was that of one of the most stupendous naval victories in

history, won by a people who fifty years before had just begun to emerge

from the dim twilight of mediaeval barbarism.



Japan, the Nemesis of the East, had won her maiden spurs on the field of

warfare in her brief conflict with China in 1894, but that was looked

upon as a fight between a young game-cock and a decrepit barn-yard fowl,

and the Western world looked with a half-pitying indulgence upon the

spectacle of the long-slumbering Orient serving its apprenticeship in

modern war. Yet the rapid and complete triumph of the island empire over

the leviathan of the Asiatic continent was much of a revelation of the

latent power that dwelt in that newly-aroused archipelago, and when in

1903 Japan began to speak in tones of menace to a second leviathan, that

of Eastern Europe and Northern Asia, the world's interest was deeply

stirred again.



Would little Japan dare attack a European power and one so great and

populous as Russia, with half Asia already in its clasp, with strong

fortresses and fleets within striking distance, and with a continental

railway over which it could pour thousands of armed battalions? The idea

seemed preposterous, many looked upon the attitude of Japan as the

madness of temerity, and when on February 6, 1904, the echo of the guns

at Port Arthur was heard the world gave a gasp of astonishment and

alarm.



Were there any among us then who believed it possible for little Japan

to triumph over the colossus it had so daringly attacked? If any, they

were very few. It is doubtful if there was a man in Russia itself who

dreamed of anything but eventual victory, with probably the adding of

the islands of Japan to its chaplet of orient pearls. True, the success

of the attack on their fleet was a painful surprise, and when they saw

their great iron-clads locked up in Port Arthur harbor it was cause for

annoyance. But if the fleet had been taken by surprise, the fortress was

claimed to be impregnable, the army was powerful and accustomed to

victory over its foes in Asia, and it was with an amused contempt of

their half-barbarian foes and confidence in rapid and brilliant triumph

that the Muscovite cohorts streamed across Asia with arms in hand and

hope in heart.



We do not propose to tell here what followed. The world knows it. Men

read with an interest they had rarely taken in foreign affairs of the

rapid and stupendous successes of the little soldiers of Nippon, the

indomitable valor of the troops, the striking skill of their leaders,

the breadth and completeness of their tactics, the training and

discipline of the men, the rare hygienic condition of the camps, their

impetuosity in attack, their persistence in pursuit; in short, the

sudden advent of an army with all the requisites of a victorious career,

as pitted against the ill-handled myriads of Russia, not wanting in

brute courage, but sadly lacking in efficient leadership and strategical

skill in their commanders.



Back went the Russian hosts, mile by mile, league by league, steadily

pressed northward by the unrelenting persistence of the island warriors;

while on the Liao-tung peninsula the besieging forces crept on foot by

foot, caring apparently nothing for wounds or death, caring only for the

possession of the fortress which they had been sent to win.



We should like to record some victories for the Russians, but the annals

of the war tell us of none. Outgeneralled and driven back from their

strong position on the Yalu River; decisively beaten in the great battle

of Liao-yang; checked in their offensive movement on the Shakhe River,

with immense loss; and finally utterly defeated in the desperate two

weeks' struggle around Mukden; the field warfare ended in the two great

armies facing each other at Harbin, with months of manoeuvring before

them.



Meanwhile the campaign in the peninsula had gone on with like desperate

efforts and final success of the Japanese, Port Arthur surrendering to

its irresistible besiegers on the opening day of 1905. With it fell the

Russian fleet which had been cooped up in its harbor for nearly a year;

defeated and driven back in its every attempt to escape; its flag-ship,

the "Petropavlovsk," sunk by a mine on April 13, 1904, carrying down

Admiral Makaroff and nearly all its crew; the remnant of the fleet being

finally sunk or otherwise disabled to save them from capture on the

surrender of Port Arthur to the besieging forces.



Such, in very brief epitome, were the leading features of the conflict

on land and its earlier events on the sea. We must now return to the

great naval battle spoken of above, which calls for detailed description

alike from its being the closing struggle of the contest and from its

extraordinary character as a phenomenal event in maritime war.



The loss of the naval strength of Russia in eastern waters led to a

desperate effort to retrieve the disaster, by sending from the Baltic

every war-ship that could be got ready, with the hope that a strong

fleet on the open waters of the east would enable Russia to regain its

prestige as a naval power and deal a deadly blow at its foe, by closing

the waters upon the possession of which the islanders depended for the

support of their armies in Manchuria.



This supplementary fleet, under Admiral Rojestvensky, set sail from the

port of Libau on October 16, 1904, beginning its career inauspiciously

by firing impulsively on some English fishing-boats on the 21st, with

the impression that these were Japanese scouts. This hasty act

threatened to embroil Russia with another foe, the ally of Japan, but it

passed off with no serious results.



Entering the Mediterranean and passing through the Suez Canal, the fine

fleet under Rojestvensky, nearly sixty vessels strong, loitered on its

way with wearisome deliberation, dallying for a protracted interval in

the waters of the Indian Ocean and not passing Singapore on its journey

north till April 12. It looked almost as if its commander feared the

task before him, six months having now passed since it left the Baltic

on its very deliberate cruise.



The second Russian squadron, under Admiral Nebogatoff, did not pass

Singapore until May 5, it being the 13th before the two squadrons met

and combined. On the 22d they were seen in the waters of the Philippines

heading northward. The news of this, flashed by cable from the far east

to the far west, put Europe and America on the qui vive, in eager

anticipation of startling events quickly to follow.



Meanwhile where was Admiral Togo and his fleet? For months he had been

engaged in the work of bottling up the Russian squadron at Port Arthur.

Since the fall of the latter place and the destruction of the war-ships

in its harbor he had been lying in wait for the slow-coming Baltic

fleet, doubtless making every preparation for the desperate struggle

before him, but doing this in so silent and secret a method that the

world outside knew next to nothing of what was going on. The astute

authorities of Japan had no fancy for heralding their work to the world,

and not a hint of the movements or whereabouts of the fleet reached

men's ears.



As the days passed on and the Russian ships steamed still northward, the

anxious curiosity as to the location of the Japanese fleet grew

painfully intense. The expected intention to waylay Rojestvensky in the

southern straits had not been realized, and as the Russians left the

Philippines in their rear, the question, Where is Togo? grew more

insistent still. With extraordinary skill he had lain long in ambush,

not a whisper as to the location of his fleet being permitted to make

its way to the western world; and when Rojestvensky ventured into the

yawning jaws of the Korean Strait he was in utter ignorance of the

lurking-place of his grimly waiting foes.



Before Rojestvensky lay two routes to choose between, the more direct

one to Vladivostok through the narrow Korean Strait, or the longer one

eastward of the great island of Honshu. Which he would take was in doubt

and in which Togo awaited him no one knew. The skilled admiral of Japan

kept his counsel well, doubtless satisfied in his own mind that the

Russians would follow the more direct route, and quietly but watchfully

awaiting their approach.



It was on May 22, as we have said, that the Russian fleet appeared off

the Philippines, the greatest naval force that the mighty Muscovite

empire had ever sent to sea, the utmost it could muster after its

terrible losses at Port Arthur. Five days afterwards, on the morning of

Saturday, May 27, this proud array of men-of-war steamed into the open

throat of the Straits of Korea, steering for victory and Vladivostok. On

the morning of Monday, the 29th, a few battered fragments of this grand

fleet were fleeing for life from their swift pursuers. The remainder

lay, with their drowned crews, on the sea-bottom, or were being taken

into the ports of victorious Japan. In those two days had been fought to

a finish the greatest naval battle of recent times, and Japan had won

the position of one of the leading naval powers of the world.



On that Saturday morning no dream of such a destiny troubled the souls

of those in the Russian fleet. They were passing into the throat of the

channel between Japan and Korea, but as yet no sign of a foeman had

appeared, and it may be that numbers on board the fleet were

disappointed, for doubtless the hope of battle and victory filled many

ardent souls on the Russian ships. The sun rose on the new day and sent

its level beams across the seas, on which as yet no hostile ship had

appeared. The billowing waters spread broad and open before them and it

began to look as if those who hoped for a fight would be disappointed,

those who desired a clear sea and an open passage would be gratified.



No sails were visible on the waters except those of small craft, which

scudded hastily for shore on seeing the great array of war-ships on the

horizon. Fishing-craft most of these, though doubtless among them were

the scout-boats which the watchful Togo had on patrol with orders to

signal the approach of the enemy's fleet. But as the day moved on the

scene changed. A great ship loomed up, steering into the channel, then

another and another, the vanguard of a battle-fleet, steaming straight

southward. All doubt vanished. Togo had sprung from his ambush and the

battle was at hand.



It was a rough sea, and the coming vessels dashed through heavy waves as

they drove onward to the fray. From the flag-ship of the fleet of Japan

streamed the admiral's signal, not unlike the famous signal of Nelson at

Trafalgar, "The defense of our empire depends upon this action. You are

expected to do your utmost."



Northward drove the Russians, drawn up in double column. The day moved

on until noon was passed and the hour of two was reached. A few minutes

later the first shots came from the foremost Russian ships. They fell

short and the Japanese waited until they came nearer before replying.

Then the roar of artillery began and from both sides came a hail of shot

and shell, thundering on opposing hulls or rending the water into foam.

From two o'clock on Saturday afternoon until two o'clock on Sunday

morning that iron storm kept on with little intermission, the huge

twelve-inch guns sending their monstrous shells hurtling through the

air, the smaller guns raining projectiles on battle-ships and cruisers,

until it seemed as if nothing that floated could live through that

terrible storm.



Never in the history of naval warfare had so frightful a cannonade been

seen. Its effect on the opposing fleets was very different. For months

Togo had kept his gunners in training and their shell-fire was accurate

and deadly, hundreds of their projectiles hitting the mark and working

dire havoc to the Russian ships and crews; while to judge from the

little damage done, the return fire would seem to have been wild and at

random. Either the work of training his gunners had been neglected by

the Russian admiral, or they were demoralized by the projectiles from

the rapid-fire guns of the Japanese, which swept their decks and mowed

down the gunners at their posts.



This fierce and telling fire soon had its effect. Ninety minutes after

it began, the Russian armored cruiser "Admiral Nakhimoff" went reeling

to the bottom with the greater part of her crew of six hundred men. Next

to succumb was the repair-ship "Kamchatka." Badly hurt early in the

battle, her steering-gear was later disabled, then a shell put her

engines out of service, and shortly after her bow rose in the air and

her stern sank, and with a tremendous roar she followed the "Nakhimoff"

to the depths.



Around the "Borodino," one of the largest of the Russian battle-ships,

clustered five of the Japanese, pouring in their fire so fiercely that

flames soon rose from her deck and the wounded monster seemed in sore

distress. This was Rojestvensky's flag-ship, and the enemy made it one

of their chief targets, sweeping its decks until the great ship became a

veritable shambles. Admiral Rojestvensky, wounded and his ship slowly

settling under him, was transferred in haste to a torpedo-boat

destroyer, and as evening came on the huge ship, still fighting

desperately, turned turtle and vanished beneath the waves. As for the

admiral, the destroyer which bore him was taken and he fell a prisoner

into Japanese hands.



Previous to this three other battle-ships, the "Lessoi," the "Veliky,"

and the "Oslabya," had met with a similar fate, and shortly after

sundown the "Navarin" followed its sister ships to the yawning depths.

The fiery assault had quickly thrown the whole Russian array into

disorder, while the Japanese skilfully manoeuvred to press the

Russians from side and rear, forcing them towards the coast, where they

were attacked by the Japanese column there advancing. In this way the

fleet was nearly surrounded, the torpedo-boat flotilla being thrown out

to intercept those vessels that sought to break through the deadly net.



With the coming on of darkness the firing from the great guns ceased,

the Russian fleet being by this time hopelessly beaten. But the

torpedo-boats now came actively into action, keeping up their fire

through most of the night. When Sunday morning dawned the shattered

remnants of the Russian fleet were in full flight for safety, hotly

pursued by the Japanese, who were bent on preventing the escape of a

single ship. The roar of guns began again about nine o'clock and was

kept up at intervals during the day, new ships being bagged from time to

time by Togo's victorious fleet, while others, shot through and through,

followed their brothers of the day before to the ocean depths.



The most notable event of this day's fight was the bringing to bay off

Liancourt Island of a squadron of five battle-ships, comprising the

division of Admiral Nebogatoff. Togo, in the battle-ship "Mikasa,"

commanded the pursuing squadron, which overtook and surrounded the

Russian ships, pouring in a terrible fire which soon threw them into

hopeless confusion. Not a shot came back in reply and Togo, seeing their

helpless plight, signalled a demand for their surrender. In response the

Japanese flag was run up over the Russian standard, and these five ships

fell into the hands of the islanders without an effort at defense. The

confusion and dismay on board was such that an attempt to fight could

have led only to their being sent to the bottom with their crews.



It was a miserable remnant of the proud Russian fleet that escaped,

including only the cruiser "Almez" and a few torpedo-boats that came

limping into the harbor of Vladivostok with the news of the disaster,

and the cruisers "Oleg," "Aurora," and "Jemchug," under Rear-admiral

Enquist, that straggled in a damaged condition into Manila harbor a week

after the great fight. Aside from these the Russian fleet was

annihilated, its ships destroyed or captured; the total loss, according

to Admiral Togo's report, being eight battle-ships, three armored

cruisers, three coast-defense ships, and an unenumerated multitude of

smaller vessels, while the loss in men was four thousand prisoners and

probably twice that number slain or drowned.



The most astonishing part of the report was that the total losses of the

Japanese were three torpedo-boats, no other ships being seriously

damaged, while the loss in killed and wounded was not over eight hundred

men. It was a fight that paralleled, in all respects except that of

dimensions of the battling fleets, the naval fights at Manila and

Santiago in the Spanish-American war.



What followed this stupendous victory needs not many words to tell. On

land and sea the Russians had been fought to a finish. To protract the

war would have been but to add to their disasters. Peace was imperative

and it came in the following September, the chief result being that the

Russian career of conquest in Eastern Asia was stayed and Japan became

the master spirit in that region of the globe.