by John Harris
Wracking his brains for an explanation of Shaiba’s words, Willie’s fury consumed him. He had become a shipowner, had gone into shipping, with the chance of becoming a magnate in the near future – Willie was always an optimist – and here he was, unable to do anything about it. He kicked savagely at a stone and peered again out to sea, where a black sword blade of cloud lay across the pale sky.
Hearing the faint ting-ting of a ship’s telegraphs he wondered where it came from. Then he realised it was coming on the wind from the sea. Trying to catch sight of the approaching vessel, he hoped it would have more luck getting in than he was having getting the Lady Roberts out. Then he caught a faint wink of light on the horizon, then another some distance away from the first, and gradually he realised he could see several lights and they were all in line. Puzzled, he stared again and faintly, very faintly, because he had kept his eyes averted from the shore lights, he realised he was looking at a line of ships, dark against the sky.
From among the line of ships a signal light began to flash again and again. For a long time the harbour didn’t answer and he could imagine Zychov sitting with his feet up over a glass of vodka, probably even with a woman on his lap. Eventually a light began to wink from the harbour and was answered from the sea. Again the harbour light flashed a reply then went out. At sea all became darkness.
Willie stared. Who the hell was trying to get in? The British naval squadron from Shangai? Ships from Weihaiwei? Germans? French? Then a half-formed idea leapt to his mind. The Japanese, for God’s sake! It couldn’t be! War still hadn’t been declared, and the Russian fleet was outside the harbour, their admiral obviously unworried, while the ships on the horizon had presumably satisfactorily identified themselves, because the Russians appeared to be ignoring them. But it could only be the Japanese! But what was their fleet doing out there? It didn’t make sense.
Then suddenly it dawned on him what Shaiba had been trying to tell him. The ships on the horizon were Japanese, and they had arrived to attack the Russians without declaring war! Tossing aside the cigar he had been smoking, he began to run.
The first explosion came as he reached the side of the Lady Roberts. The two Russian destroyers he had seen heading out to sea had just returned, coming into the harbour at speed, a light flashing from the bridge of the leading vessel towards the flagship. An answering light, hesitant and uncertain, came from the flagship, then, even before she had stopped, the leading destroyer dropped a boat and it was just crossing towards the flagship when there was a crash and a sheet of flame rose from the side of the duty cruiser, Pallada. Swinging round, he saw a column of water lifting into the air like an icy stalagmite. Almost immediately there were two more explosions.
As he clattered to the Lady Roberts’ deck, the crew came out from the forecastle alleyway and Captain Hankinson appeared on the bridge, clad in a pair of woollen combinations.
‘What the hell’s goin’ on?’
Willie looked up at him. ‘You still got steam up?’ he yelled.
‘Sure.’
‘You might need it.’
‘What’s happening?’
‘I think the war’s started.’
When daylight came the city was overhung by a pall of smoke from burning ships. Two of the Russians’ best battleships, the Retzivan and the Tzarevich, had been crippled, the Retzivan with a two-hundred-foot hole blown in her port side, the Tzarevich torpedoed in the stern, her bulkheads shattered, while the Pallada’s coal bunkers were on fire and still burning furiously. All three ships had got under way in an attempt to reach shallow water, but the Pallada had grounded near the lighthouse on the west of the harbour entrance, while the Retzivan and the Tzarevich had come to grief in the narrow gullet of the harbour, almost blocking the entrance. The Russians had achieved nothing and their guns and small arms had gone on firing long after the Japanese had vanished.
The crippled ships lay canting over, their masts askew, flames still belching smoke from their decks, around them a mat of smaller vessels taking off the wounded and bringing shore gangs to make repairs. The city streets were swarming with officers in carriages and streams of ambulances and carts carrying away the dead and wounded from the quayside.
Willie stared at the scene with Hankinson’s telescope. The fight had been over in an hour or so. They had waited all night for a chance to escape, but none had presented itself and he could hear muttering again on the foredeck. The Russians appeared to have done nothing in the way of retaliation beyond sending the cruiser Novik to find the Japanese fleet, but the ship had returned at first light to report that they were nowhere to be seen.
The docks were full of rumours and, going into the city to find out what he could, Willie learned everything he needed in the bar where he took his meals. Through Hankinson’s telescope he had seen marching men and officers on horseback, and later in the morning had learned that the Russian shore guns had not fired because their ammunition had been stored underground for safety. There had been a lot of noisy talk of vengeance from the Russians, but nothing was being done and he learned that the Russian admiral had called a conference ashore of senior officers to discuss what to do.
As he left the café, there was still a lot of shouting and he saw the Russian cruiser Boyarin, which had left earlier, returning, flying a flag signal which an obliging Russian sailor interpreted for them. ‘Enemy in sight in force,’ he said.
Expecting an immediate reaction, he was surprised when nothing happened. There was no sign of the senior officers returning from the conference ashore, no movement in the harbour beyond the small vessels and repair ships alongside the ironclads wounded in the previous night’s attack.
Then he saw one of the Russian vessels begin to move and heard cheering. Bugles sounded and the high ting-ting of ships’ telegraphs came across the water. Tremendous activity broke out on the bows of other ships as they prepared to up-anchor and sail.
‘They’re going out to meet the Japs,’ Hankinson said.
‘Right,’ Willie said. ‘Let’s be ready to follow ’em.’
There was a sudden flurry of action ashore and an admiral’s barge began to head from the quayside. Finding a cab, Willie had himself driven to the point where he had watched the start of the action the night before. Almost immediately, he realised he was having a grandstand view of the second stage of the battle. The Japanese were just coming into view again, more ships than he’d seen the night before, about six miles away and moving on a westerly course across the mouth of the harbour. Once again, he headed for the cab at full speed.
The crew of the Lady Roberts were all on deck as he arrived and, as the first shell screamed towards the town, everybody dived for shelter. Hankinson disappeared from the bridge into the wheelhouse and Willie heard the clink of the ring in the doorhandle as it slammed to behind him. The range was too high and the shell crashed down alongside the town quay beyond the Russian ships, falling on the wooden jetty where the Lady Roberts had been moored. Lifting his head, Willie saw that the masts of the barque that had taken her berth had been flung askew. Yards were a-cock-bill, ropes swung loose and torn sails were still flapping in the gusty air created by the blast. The deck hut where the cooking was done had disappeared in a flurry of flying planks and the deck was on fire where the stove had been flung. A dozen heads bobbed up on the Lady Roberts, looking towards Willie, every man aware that if they hadn’t changed berth they would have been on the receiving end of the missile.
Another shell came screaming over the Russian fleet and hit one of the buildings behind the burning four-master and the whole front slid into the street in an avalanche of bricks, timber, slates and glass. The next salvo was more accurate and dropped among the Russian warships. They had steam up and were getting ready to weigh anchor, but, despite the men running about on their forecastle heads they made no attempt to go out to engage the Japanese or move beyond the protective fire of the shore batteries, merely tamely returning shells from where they lay, their four- and five-inc
h guns no match for the six-inchers of the Japanese. Only the Russian ship, the Novik, made an attempt to dash out of the roadway, but, as fire from Japanese guns was directed towards her, she swung away and ran for safety.
Pieces of the Russian ships were flying into the air in all directions and the whole line seemed to be enveloped in smoke. The Japanese continued firing as they crossed the mouth of the harbour until they neared Laotieh Point, where they broke off the action and turned south. The firing had started just after noon, and forty minutes later it was all over and the Japanese fleet was disappearing over the horizon. The Russian ships continued firing for a little longer, but it was largely for show, because they were hitting nothing and, one after the other, their guns became silent.
In the disturbed water outside the harbour, they were lying at all angles, making no attempt to head for the open sea. All they had managed to do was get in each other’s line of fire. As far as it was possible to see, not one of the Japanese vessels had been lost.
There was a long silence as the guns stopped, as if everybody was holding his breath. Hankinson turned to Willie.
‘You knew the little buggers was coming,’ he accused.
Ashore, they could see what seemed to be a panic building up. Men were hurrying in all directions and here and there, where overs had landed in the town, houses were burning. In the silence aboard the Lady Roberts they could hear the wails of civilians and anguished cries from the Russian ships. Three of their larger vessels were still aground, seriously damaged from the night raid, and now four other heavy cruisers had been hit and were sending up clouds of smoke and steam.
‘It looks to me,’ Hankinson said, ‘as if somebody very different’s going to be running the show round here before long. Them little yellow buggers know how to fight.’ He turned to Willie. ‘Are we leaving?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
The Russian light cruiser Novik had pulled out of position in an attempt to get out of the murderous fire and Willie noticed it had left a gap on the western side of the entrance through which a ship might slip. ‘Now,’ he said.
‘You must be bloody barmy!’
Willie pointed to the harbour entrance, where the casualties of the previous day’s fighting lay, partly blocking the entrance. ‘If we don’t get out now,’ he said ‘we’ll never get out. The Japanese are bound to try to block up the entrance before long. Let’s get going.’
Hankinson stared at him for a moment, then swung away. As he began to shout, the black gang disappeared through the engine room hatch and the deck crew leapt to ropes and wires. Drumming up three or four scared Russian dockworkers to let go the shore lines, the Lady Roberts’ winches began to clank. There was no tug available, so Hankinson went back on the spring until the bow edged outwards. When there was room to move, the dockworkers cast off the wire rope and the winches clanked as it was hauled in. As the ship’s nose pointed to the harbour entrance, Hankinson shouted orders at the helmsman to correct the swing.
‘Lights,’ Willie said. ‘It gets dark early up here.’
The clusters over the painted boards came on, illuminating the large Union Jacks which had been slung from the bridge.
‘Let’s have all the British flags we’ve got run up,’ Willie suggested.
The Lady Roberts didn’t run too much in the way of bunting, but they managed to hoist a Union Jack on the signal halyard and a red duster from the stern and, picking up speed, the ship nosed out close to the Tiger Peninsula. A man running along the shore shouted and a rifle was fired at them, but within minutes they were clear of the harbour and, with a bone between her teeth, the Lady Roberts began to head south. At the end of the line of Russian ships, the Novik was now listing badly. Smoke was pouring from a hole in the deck of the towering ironclad as the Lady Roberts slipped past, her bridge almost scraping the turrets built on the Russian ship’s side. The Russian sailors were too busy to show any interest and the northern winter day soon became dark.
‘We made it!’ Hankinson sounded surprised.
A cheer went up from the deck and there was a lot of laughter. Then as it died and as the night deepened, a searchlight sprang up in front of them, the icy white beam turning the wave tops to silver and making the spray look like showers of diamonds. A black-painted torpedo boat destroyer emerged out of the darkness and they saw it carried the red and white rising sun flag at the masthead. A gun cracked and a shell landed in the water just ahead of them. As Hankinson rang down for slow, the Japanese vessel came alongside and one of the officers on her bridge began to shout through a megaphone.
‘What ship?’ he yelled.
‘Lady Roberts,’ Willie roared back. ‘Registered at Newcastle, England.’
‘Stop your engines.’
As the Lady Roberts lost way and came to a stop, wallowing in the black water, the Japanese vessel manoeuvred alongside, and the Japanese officer, accompanied now by a party of sailors, appeared on the deck. He was all smiles and politeness, but he was armed to the teeth and the sailors all carried rifles. Placing one man at the engine room hatch, two others on the foredeck watching the grouped crewmen near the forecastle alleyway, and a third at the foot of the bridge ladder, the Japanese officer climbed to the bridge, accompanied by the last two of his men. He spoke good English.
‘Don’t you realise there has been a battle?’ he said. ‘War has started between Japan and Russia.’
Willie grinned. ‘So I’ve noticed.’
‘Then why do you try to sail through the middle of it?’
‘Not through the middle. Round the side.’
‘This is no time to put to sea.’
‘One of your officers, Yuhitsu Shaiba, told me it would be. He was with me at Peking four years ago.’
The Japanese smiled. ‘Captain Shaiba is very much respected in the Imperial Navy,’ he said.
He ought to be, Willie thought. He had probably contributed considerably to what was clearly an overwhelming victory that was going to alter the balance of power in the East for many years to come.
‘You are a friend of Captain Shaiba’s?’
‘For a long time.’
‘Captain Shaiba is with Admiral Togo on his flagship at this moment. He was picked up from Taku by a Japanese destroyer several days ago.’
Doubtless full of valuable information, Willie decided. He pushed his advantage. ‘In case you hadn’t heard,’ he pointed out, ‘my country formed an alliance with your country in 1902. It recognised the independence of China and Korea and said that in the event of any step by a third power prejudicial to the interest of one of the contracting parties the other would act in concert. In other words, it would maintain a benevolent neutrality and would itself go to war if a fourth country entered on the opposite side.’
The Japanese smiled. ‘No one else will enter this war,’ he said. ‘Not now. Russia has already lost it. I must search your ship, however, in case there are Russians aboard or in case you are carrying materials of war.’
They waited as the Japanese officer prowled round the ship. As he reappeared, smiling, he waved. ‘You may leave,’ he said. ‘And good luck go with you.’
As they watched the Japanese vessel pull away, Hankinson turned to Willie.
‘Well, you clever young bugger,’ he said. ‘You did it.’
Willie grinned. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that we ought to celebrate. Isn’t there some such thing as splicing the mainbrace?’
‘That’s the Royal Navy,’ Hankinson said. ‘We don’t go in for them things in the Merchant Navy.’
‘But you carry rum?’
‘Course we do.’
‘Right, then. Break it out. Let’s see that everybody has a drink.’
As they moved southwards, over the throb of the old ship’s engines and the swish of the sea alongside, an accordion and the big seaman called Archie began to dance a hornpipe on the foredeck.
‘Now you’ve done it,’ Hankinson said gloomily. ‘I shall never be able
to control the sods again.’
Five
‘Willie!’ Abigail clutched her husband to her. ‘I’ve been worried sick. Where’ve you been?’
Willie grinned. ‘I’ve been getting into shipping,’ he said.
He explained what had happened. ‘The place is blockaded,’ he said. ‘And it’s bound to fall eventually. We got away just in time. I’ve got a new line, Ab, not rooted to the ground any more. I’ve already started swotting for a mate’s certificate.’
‘To go to sea?’
‘No. So I’ll know what’s going on. So I won’t get cheated.’
‘Where will you operate?’
‘Here. Off the China coast. The China Seas. There’s room for us. We’ll be working the East and South China seas, the Yellow Sea, the Sea of Japan. Hong Kong. Hanoi. Nagasaki. Tokyo. Down to Singapore, Java and the Philippines.’
‘Can you find cargoes?’
‘You bet I can!’ Willie was by no means certain, but he was sure of his own energy.
‘Do you know anything about it?’
He had no doubts. He had dealt with lists of suppliers even in London, knew all about bills of lading, reports of loading, transactions, points of origin, destinations, volumes, weights, costs, multiple contract shipments. He sat back to describe his plans for the future. ‘We ought to move to Shanghai,’ he said. ‘That’s the coming place. Peking’s a backwater. Shanghai’s where the commerce is, where all the up and coming people are. Better for the children. They’re opening European schools where there’ll be other kids to play with. Besides, Peking’s not safe.’
‘Why not?’
‘Ab, you must know it as well as I do, perhaps better. China’s changing. It’s shifting. It resents people like me and you because we’ve been living off her for years without giving much back.’
‘We give employment to Chinese. A lot of Chinese now.’
