Bloody Sunrise

by Christopher Nicole

  *

  ‘There is nothing to be done,’ Nicholas told Elizabeth, and told her why. He did not tell her of Takamori’s involvement. That was something between himself and his son . . . if he survived Wei-hai-wei.

  ‘I think that is tragic,’ she commented. ‘Events like that stick in people’s minds. Port Arthur will overshadow all the great victories you have gained.’ She frowned at him. ‘You don’t look as angry as you should.’

  ‘Oh, I am angry, my dear girl. But I have been cleared to go back to sea, and finish off the job.’

  ‘You mean, fight another battle?! Oh, Nicky . . .’

  ‘The war needs to be won, Lizzie. And I know how it can be done. Japan cannot conquer China. It is simply too vast and there are too many Chinese. We cannot even hold Korea if we give China time to recover her nerve and her strength. But if we can utterly destroy the Chinese fleet, leave their coasts defenceless while retaining for ourselves the right to land troops wherever and whenever we wish, then I believe they will ask for terms.’

  ‘Can you defeat those battleships, Nicky?’

  ‘Yes,’ Nicholas said. ‘I can. I’m sorry, but I won’t be home for Christmas.’

  *

  By the third week in December Nicholas, accompanied by Hirada, had rejoined the fleet, to be greeted with acclamation by Ito and his captains.

  The weather being typically January-bad, the Japanese were sheltering in the roadsteads off Chemulpo, the cruisers taking turns at mounting watch over Wei-hai-wei, in case the Chinese showed any signs of coming out.

  ‘They are not moving at all, Barrett san,’ Ito told him when the officers were assembled for a conference.

  ‘Then we must go in and get them,’ Nicholas said.

  All heads turned.

  ‘That would mean the destruction of the fleet,’ Ito protested.

  ‘The Chinese fleet,’ Nicholas said, and repeated the substance of his conversation with the Emperor.

  ‘That is a brilliant plan, honourable Admiral!’ Togo cried. ‘Permission to command one of the torpedo boats.’

  ‘I also would crave permission, honourable Admiral,’ Hirada said.

  ‘We shall have to work out the details nearer the time,’ Nicholas said. ‘Our action must be timed to coincide with Marshal Oyama’s advance, and he is not yet ready to be transported to Shantung.’ But he was studying Ito, who was chewing his moustache.

  ‘It is a very risky concept, Barrett san,’ the prince remarked.

  ‘We are risking half-a-dozen torpedo boats, honourable Admiral, nothing more.’

  ‘And their crews. Amongst whom you intend to number yourself.’

  ‘I think that is as it should be, honourable Admiral, as I conceived the plan.’

  ‘I shall have to consider it,’ Ito said.

  ‘With respect, honourable Admiral, may we discuss this matter in private?’

  Ito frowned at him, and then nodded. The other officers filed from the cabin, and Nicholas handed over Mutsuhito’s letter of instructions. Ito read it slowly, and then again. ‘I am not sure that I appreciate your going behind my back, Barrett san.’

  ‘I did not go behind your back, honourable Admiral. I was summoned by His Majesty to discuss ways of achieving the destruction of the Japanese fleet. This plan is one of them, and it was approved by His Majesty. I merely asked for his approval to be recorded in writing.’

  Ito tapped the letter. ‘This virtually places me under your command.’

  ‘It detaches the torpedo-boat squadron from your command, honourable Admiral, and places it under my command for a single night.’ He grinned. ‘And there is always the chance that I might not come back.’

  *

  Ito was not a man to bear a grudge; his sole ambition in life was to serve the Emperor, and so the plan was accepted. Nicholas’s biggest problem was selecting the crews, for almost every man in the fleet wished to volunteer for the hazardous adventure. Ito, very properly, refused to allow his cruiser captains to take part, to their general distress. Most upset of all was Togo. ‘Not to be in at the finish,’ he grumbled to Nicholas when they dined together in the captain’s cabin on board Naniwa.

  ‘Your time will come, Heihachiro,’ Nicholas assured him.

  ‘How can it, if you succeed in destroying the Chinese fleet? Who will there be left to fight?’

  Nicholas thought of Mutsuhito, the determination and the ambition etched in every line of his face. ‘I’m sure the Emperor will think of someone,’ he remarked.

  *

  Then it was a matter of waiting for Oyama, who was not actually put ashore on the eastern tip of the Shantung Peninsular until 19 January. This was only twenty-odd miles from Wei-hai-wei, but despite this Chinese resistance was weak until the Second Army actually neared the naval base. Then they came up against real opposition, the Chinese guns in the surrounding forts being supported by the twelve-inch from the battleships.

  ‘This is our moment,’ Nicholas told Ito.

  Unfortunately, the weather had turned very bad, and on 30 January, the day Oyama began the investment of Wei-hai-wei, a severe storm forced the Japanese ships, which had now all been assembled off the harbour, to run into shelter at Teng-Chou. There they spent a frustrating forty-eight hours, before the wind abated sufficiently for them to return to their station on 2 February. But even now there was a huge swell, while the temperature was several degrees below zero. It was impossible to contemplate an attack in such conditions; even if the men handling the explosive charges to break the boom did not freeze there was too great a chance of their materiel malfunctioning.

  Next day, however, the temperature rose slightly, and Nicholas determined to make his preliminary attempt. The attack had to be carried out in two separate stages, as the first requirement was the destruction of the boom between the mainland and the fortified island of I-tao. This was being continually bombarded by both the fleet and Oyama’s artillery, but it was arranged that this firing would cease at midnight.

  At eleven, Nicholas led a flotilla of six boats through the darkness towards the entrance; although there was a full moon, there was also total cloud cover. He was the only senior officer with the party; he had Hirada with him, but the other boats were commanded by warrant officers. The sea was still high, and the temperature was again plunging; despite the swell ice was forming on the surface and crackled away from their bows. In these circumstances it was impossible to reach the boom undetected, and the moment the Japanese bombardment ceased the Chinese realised what was happening.

  Warrant Officer Kozaki Tatsujiro was the explosives expert, and he commanded TB No 6. Nicholas’s job was to give cover, and this he did by steaming his other boats up and down outside. The Japanese torpedo-boats were quite big ships, one hundred and sixty-five feet long and displacing two hundred tons; they could make nineteen knots. But apart from their six fourteen-inch torpedo tubes, they were armed only with four one-pounder guns each, and these could hardly damage the Chinese forts. Yet they made a lot of noise as they banged away, while they waited for the signal that Kozaki was ready.

  At last the Verey light streaked into the sky. ‘Shall we make for the fleet, honourable Admiral?’ Hirada asked.

  ‘We’ll wait for the explosion,’ Nicholas said.

  He watched No 6 coming back towards him, but there was no bang. The charges had obviously failed to ignite.

  ‘What in the name of the gods is happening?’ Hirada asked, as No 6 turned and went back towards the boom.

  ‘Resume firing,’ Nicholas snapped, and made a note that Kozaki was obviously a man of supreme courage. For the Chinese had by now realised what he was doing, and were shooting at him with everything they had. Nicholas watched through his glasses as best he could, with his own ship bouncing up and down over the waves and reeling to the recoil of her guns. Kozaki, totally ignoring the hail of lead and steel around him, laid his ship right up to the boom, and crawled out over the bow to examine the charges.

  Nicholas found it
impossible to believe that the bold young man could possibly survive, but a few minutes later the torpedo-boat was moving away from the boom, travelling slowly, so that the sea around it was churned into foam by the hail of shot being directed at it. Only then did Nicholas realise what Kozaki was doing: as the time charges were defunct, the warrant officer was towing lines connected to the detonators, to be set off as soon as he had gained sufficient distance. And a few minutes later there was a violent explosion, and an immense plume of water shot into the air; the boom had been shattered close to the shore.

  *

  ‘That was brilliantly done, Petty Officer Kozaki,’ Ito said when they regained the fleet. He had congratulations for all the torpedo-boat crews, before taking Nicholas into his day cabin. ‘A successful venture, Barrett san. And not a man lost. When will you go again?’

  ‘Tonight. We must hit them both before they can repair the boom, and before the weather blows up again.’

  ‘But do you not think they will expect you to return, tonight?’

  ‘Very probably they will, but I don’t see any alternative.’

  ‘We must divert them,’ Ito said.

  Nicholas was delighted that Ito should be so willing to co-operate. Later that morning, Ito led the fleet inshore, right up to the break in the boom, as if seeking a way through. At this close range he exchanged salvoes with the shore batteries, and with the battleships beyond, while cruising up and down the islands, before retiring. His action not only served the purpose of confusing the Chinese, but also prevented the slightest risk of any work being done on repairing the boom.

  Meanwhile Nicholas prepared his attack. He also intended a diversion, and for this purpose split his torpedo-boats into three flotillas. The First Flotilla, consisting of Kotaka and four other ships, was sent to make a false attack on the boom at the western entrance to the harbour, between the island of Liukung-tao and the mainland, as if attempting to repeat their success of the previous night and seek another way through the defences. Meanwhile the real attack was to go in two waves, the Second Flotilla of six boats, and the Third of four, using the existing break at the landward end of the eastern boom.

  Nicholas himself took command of the Third Flotilla, in No 10, with which he intended to deliver the knock-out punch.

  The temperature had dropped again, and it was terribly cold; as the ships raced towards the land, spray froze on the gear of their torpedo tubes, making it extremely doubtful whether they would work properly. This night the sky was clear, and so Nicholas had delayed the assault until the moon had set, which was three in the morning. He had given all his commanders specific courses to steer, but even so some drifted off, and two of the vessels in the Second Flotilla touched rocks and had to drop out. The other eight ships got through the gap in safety, and so far as they could determine, undetected by the Chinese, who were blasting away at the decoy squadron to the west.

  Now, although it was utterly dark, there were lights enough emanating from the constant firing, both from the forts and from the ships at anchor, to make out the bulk of the two battleships, lying in the midst of several other craft. As they were identified, however, rockets were released from the area south of I-tao Island, and Nicholas realised that there were guard boats stationed there, previously unobserved.

  Instantly all hell broke loose as the Chinese began firing, inside the harbour, with both cannon and machine-guns. According to the orders issued by Nicholas, the Second Flotilla immediately fanned out to attack the ships moored on the harbour periphery, while the four ships of the Third Squadron proceeded straight up the bay towards the battleships. Nicholas now had one of the big ships in his sights, and he was just lining her up when there came a shout from Hirada, standing at his elbow. He looked to his right, and saw another torpedo-boat hurtling by virtually alongside. The two ships touched, and No 10 heeled to and fro, with the men on her bridge scattering across the deck like ninepins.

  ‘What is the madman doing?’ Hirada shouted.

  The second boat shot away into the night and Nicholas regained his feet, understanding that it had been an excess of zeal caused the near catastrophe. ‘Damage report, Lieutenant,’ he said quietly. ‘Prepare to shoot,’ he called to the warrant officer in charge of the tubes.

  Now the huge ship was very near; Nicholas had no means of knowing whether it was the Ting Yuan or the Chen Yuen. But he was so close he could not miss. The sea around him was a maelstrom of Gatling-gun bullets, as the Chinese could no longer sufficiently depress their heavy weapons, but amazingly No 10 had not yet been hit.

  ‘Fire bow tube,’ he commanded.

  The petty officer pressed the button. ‘Bow tube released, honourable Admiral.’

  Nothing had happened. A crewman ran forward, slipping on the bucking, icy deck, and screamed back at the bridge. ‘It is stuck half out of the tube, honourable Admiral! Ice!’

  The petty-officer stared at Nicholas in consternation, but Nicholas was already putting the helm over. He had to in any event, to avoid ramming the battleship. With half of a fourteen-inch torpedo protruding from his forward tube, this would probably have been an effective way of sinking the huge vessel, but it also involved suicide, and he did not consider that necessary yet.

  ‘Fire the starboard tube,’ he commanded, breathing a silent prayer as he did so.

  This time there was a reassuring hiss, and the torpedo struck the water with a splash, just as Hirada regained the bridge. ‘Damage below is minimal, honourable Admiral. On deck there is just some crushed rail.’

  Nicholas had already put the helm right round, and was streaking back the way he had come, able to take stock of the situation, which was a kaleidoscope of flashing lights, booming noise, and flying spray. Then there came a deep boom from behind him, and a shriek of joy from Hirada. ‘A hit, honourable Admiral! A hit!’

  Nicholas looked over his shoulder at the battleship, now easily visible as she was showing lights. She did not look damaged, and her guns were still blazing away. But he had expended his torpedoes, and so, he guessed, had most of his squadron. ‘Fire the recall rocket,’ he said.

  *

  The Japanese were uncertain of the extent of their success, or if there had been a success at all, and Nicholas had to count the cost of two ships lost and several damaged, as well as nineteen men killed. It remained a miracle that no one on board No 10 had been hit, and indeed only two bullet holes were found on board the flagship; she had been far more seriously damaged in her collision with her sister.

  Dawn brought the evidence of a tremendous triumph. One of the battleships had had to be beached to save her from sinking. She was identified as the Ting Yuan, and had undoubtedly been the ship hit by No 10’s torpedo. With this evidence of what he could do, Nicholas led a third attack the following night, and this time, Chinese morale was so damaged that the torpedo-boats ranged at will, and although they could not reach Chen Yuen, they sank three cruisers. Ito immediately sent in a flag of truce, calling on Admiral Ting to surrender, but there was no reply.

  The end was now in sight. For the next week the Japanese ships kept up their bombardment of the port, while Oyama’s troops moved ever closer. The Chinese continued to defend themselves, and several of the Japanese ships were severely hit, including Matsushima again. But on the morning of 12 February a gunboat emerged from the broken boom, flying a flag of truce, and signalled to ask permission to come alongside Matsushima. This was granted, although every ship in the Japanese navy, fearful of treachery, trained its guns on the little ship to blow it out of the water at the first sign of anything untoward.

  The Chinese captain boarded the flagship, bowed before Ito and Nicholas and their officers, and presented a letter from Admiral Ting. Ito read it, and then passed it to Nicholas. Ting had written: I, Ting Ju-chang, Commander-in-Chief of the Northern Squadron, acknowledge having previously received a letter from Vice-Admiral Ito. This letter I have not answered until today, owing to the hostilities going on between our fleets. It had been my
intention to continue fighting until every one of my men-of-war was sunk and the last seaman killed. But I have reconsidered the matter, and now request a truce, hoping thereby to save many lives. I most earnestly beseech you to refrain from further harming the Chinese and Westerners in the service of the army and navy of China, as well as the civilians of Wei-hai-wei. In return for this I offer to surrender all my warships, the forts on Liu-kung-tao, and all the warlike materiel in and about Wei-hai-wei to the Empire of Japan. He then went on to suggest that the commander of a British squadron, which lay off the port watching the operations, should be asked to guarantee the handing over of the forts and the ships, and requested that the Chinese soldiers and sailors in the port should not be made prisoners but should be allowed to return to their homes. Finally, he asked for a reply within twenty-four hours.

  Ito called a council of his officers, at which it was agreed to accept the terms offered, as it would achieve everything they had been ordered to accomplish by the Emperor.

  ‘You do understand,’ Nicholas pointed out, ‘that given the conditions existing in China today, by offering to surrender Ting is signing his own death warrant.’

  Ito nodded. ‘He is a brave and sensible man, in wishing to save the lives of his people. This how I shall reply, Barrett san:

  I have the honour to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, and to accept the proposal it contains. I shall, accordingly, take over from you all the men-of-war, the forts, and the materiel of war in Wei-hai-wei. As to the time when this surrender is to take place, I shall consult with you again when I receive your reply to this letter. My own idea is, after taking over everything, to escort you and your colleagues in one of our warships to some place as will best suit your convenience. If I may speak quite frankly, I would advise you, for your own sake and for the sake of your country, to stay in Japan until after the war. I assure you that you will be treated with the most honourable consideration, if you decide to come to my country. If, however, you wish to return to your native land, I shall, of course, put no obstacle in your way. As for any British guarantee of your good faith, I consider it quite unnecessary, for I trust absolutely in your honour as an officer and a brave man.