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WITH  THE  COSSACKS 


MISHCHENKO  AND  HIS  COSSACKS 


SNAPSHOT  TAKEN   DURING  THE   ATTEMPT  TO  CUT  OFF   KUROKI, 
EAST  OF  LIAOYANG,   SEPT.   I,    1904 


WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

BEING  THE  STORY  OF  AN  IRISHMAN  WHO 

RODE  WITH  THE  COSSACKS  THROUGHOUT 

THE  RUSSO-JAPANESE  WAR 


BY 


FRANCIS  McCULLAGH 


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LONDON 
EVELEIGH    NASH 

1906 


"  Oh  I  why  art  thou  so  troubled?  "  asked  the  Cossack  of  the  Don, 
11  Oh  !  why,  m  muddy  eddies,  does  thy  turbid  stream  flow  on  ? 

Oh  !  quiet  Don  Ivanovitch  I     Oh  !  famous,  quiet  Don  ! 

Our  bdtyushka !  *  Our  Nourisher  !  why  is  thy  brightness  gone  ?  " 

And  glorious  Don  Ivanovitch  he  answered  and  he  said: 
"  No  wonder  that  my  banks  are  broke  and  muddy  is  my  bed, 
For  the  Cossacks  are  my  bulwarks,  the  Cossacks  are  my  stay, 
How  can  I  flow  on  gently  when  my  Cossacks  are  away  ?  " 

Ballad  of  the  Don  Cossacks. 


*  Grandfather. 


DEDICATED   TO 
THE  MEMORY  OF  MY  FRIEND 

FERDINAND  BURTIN, 

LIEUTENANT    IN    THE    TIRAILLEURS 

ALGERIENS  AND   SO  TNI  A'  IN  THE 

COSSACKS   OF   VERKHNYUDINSK: 

KILLED  NEAR  YINKOW  DURING 

MISHCHENKO'S  FAMOUS  RAID, 

JANUARY  io,  1905 


PREFACE 

The  letters  which  form  the  basis  of  the 
following  chapters  are  reprinted  from  the  New 
York  Herald,  by  whose  kind  permission  they 
are  here  reproduced ;  and  the  writer  of  them 
takes  this  opportunity  of  thanking  Mr.  James 
Gordon  Bennett,  the  proprietor  of  that  paper, 
for  placing  him,  in  the  first  instance,  in  a  position 
to  write  these  articles  at  all. 

The  author  originally  intended  to  give  a  full 
description  of  his  experiences  in  Port  Arthur, 
and  of  all  the  battles  in  the  late  war  at  which 
he  was  present — i.e.,  of  every  battle  save  the 
comparatively  unimportant  battles  of  the  Yalu 
and  Vafangow,  but,  as  he  found  that  in  that 
case  he  would  have  to  produce  three  large 
volumes,  instead  of  one  small  volume,  he 
reluctantly  abandoned  the  idea. 

Moscow,  January  20,  1906. 


CONTENTS 


PART  I 
IN  PORT  ARTHUR 


CHAP. 

I.  From  Tokio  to  Port  Arthur 
II.  Life  in  Port  Arthur 

III.  The  Gathering  Clouds    . 

IV.  On  Board  the  "  Columbia  " 
V.  Inside  Port  Arthur 


PAGE 

3 
«4 

H 
38 
80 


PART  II 
WITH  THE  ARMY 

I.  I  Join  Mishchenko  . 
II.  Before  Mishchenko's  Raid 

III.  A  Christmas  with  the  Cossacks 

IV.  Mishchenko's  Raid  . 
V.  How  I  Left  Mishchenko 

VI.  The  Battle  of  Sandypu  . 

VII.  Mukden  Before  the  Battle    . 

VIII.  The  Battle  of  Mukden  . 

IX.  March   1  and  March  2  . 

X.  A  Vast  Vodka  Debauch    . 


95 
116 

130 
160 

185 

201 
201 
221 
228 
245 


XI 1 


CONTENTS 


XI.  General  Kuropatkin's  Train 
XII.  March  5,  6  and  7  . 

XIII.  The  Retreat  from  Mukden 

XIV.  Our  Capture 
XV.  Face  to  Face  with  Kuroki 

XVI.    Back  to  Liaoyang  . 
XVII.  From  Liaoyang  to  Dalny 
XVIII.  From  Dalny  to  Japan  as  a  Prisoner  of  War 


PACK 

255 
269 

280 
313 
329 
3+i 
356 

372 


No  I.  No.  2  No.3 

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ILLUSTRATIONS 


Mischenkos  and  his  Cossacks       ....     Frontispiece 
Dragoons  Drinking  at  a  Wayside  Well 
Francis  Mc&dlagh  and  his  Cossack,  Philipoff 
Mischenkos  Raid     ..... 
A  Japanese  Prisoner  .... 

The  South  Gate  of  Mukden 
The  Retreat  from  Mukden 
Russian  Priests  Blessing  Rennenkampfs  Cossacks  before  the 
Russian  Advance  on  Pen-shi-Hu,  October  1904 


Facing 
page 


34 
112 

162 

204 

212 

282 

320 


PART  I 
PORT  ARTHUR 


CHAPTER  I 

FROM  TOKIO  TO  PORT  ARTHUR 

When  the  Russo-Japanese  War  broke  out  I  was  on 
the  staff  of  the  Novi  Krai*  newspaper  of  Port  Arthur. 
To  explain  how  I,  a  British  subject,  came  to  find  my- 
self in  that  singular  position  I  shall  go  back  a  little  in 
point  of  time.  In  1903  I  was  employed  on  the  staff 
of  a  Japanese  paper,  and  having  previously  been  editor 
of  a  French  paper  in  Siam,  I  thought  that  it  would  not 
be  a  bad  idea  to  complete  my  education  in  Far 
Eastern  politics  by  going  over  to  the  Russian  side. 

Accordingly  I  began  to  take  lessons  in  the  Russian 
language  with  Father  Sergius  Gleboff,  Chaplain  of  the 
Russian  Legation  in  Tokio,  and  in  August  1903  I 
resigned  my  position  on  the  Japan  Times  of  Tokio  in 
order  to  go  to  Port  Arthur,  where  we  should,  I  ex- 
pected, have  war  within  about  a  month,  that  is  on 
October  8,  by  which  time  the  Russians  had  promised 
to  evacuate  Manchuria. 

I  must  say  that  I  found  it  hard  to  tear  myself  away 
from  Japan,  not  only  because  I  liked  the  country  and 
its  people,  but  also  because  to  go  to  Port  Arthur  was 
to  take  a  leap  in  the  dark,  for  I  did  not  know  if  I  could 
get  employment  there. 

True,  I  had  arranged  to  send  a  circular  letter  several 

*  "  Novi  Krai "  is  the  Russian  for  "  New  Land." 


4  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

times  a  week  to  a  number  of  Far  Eastern  papers,  but 
it  turned  out  that  the  money  I  got  at  irregular  intervals 
from  this  source  was  not  quite  sufficient  to  pay  for  my 
washing.  Luckily  I  had  not  been  long  in  Port  Arthur 
before  I  joined  the  Novi  A>#z  and  was  appointed  corre- 
spondent of  the  New  York  Herald,  a  paper  which  I 
had  represented  in  Siam  some  five  or  six  years  earlier. 

I  went  to  Port  Arthur  in  a  Japanese  vessel,  the 
Tairen  Maru,  and  Dalny  was  the  first  Russian  port 
we  touched  at.  I  got  my  first  view  of  Dalny  early  one 
morning,  when,  on  getting  up,  I  found  that  we  were 
approaching  a  quay  of  solid  masonry,  provided  with  all 
modern  appliances  for  loading  and  unloading  cargo, 
and  with  railway  trains  waiting  close  by  to  carry  off 
that  cargo,  not  only  to  Siberia,  but  to  Europe.  The 
length  and  amplitude  of  the  quays,  and  the  magnificent 
blocks  of  concrete  used  in  their  construction,  impressed 
me  profoundly  when  I  went  ashore.  The  men  who 
were  responsible  for  that  work  had  evidently  built,  not 
for  an  age,  but  for  all  time.  There  was  no  necessity 
for  making  the  quays  so  large  and  elaborate,  but  there 
was  something  Roman,  something  characteristic  of  the 
empire-builder,  about  this  lavish  waste  of  money  ;  and, 
in  view  of  the  threatening  attitude  of  the  Japanese, 
the  serene  confidence  which  this  vast  expenditure 
indicated  was  particularly  impressive.  If  somebody 
had  prophesied  to  me  at  that  moment  that  inside  of 
eighteen  months  I  should  be  a  prisoner  of  the  Japanese 
in  a  conquered  Dalny,  I  should  have  been  little  dis- 
posed to  believe  him. 

Dalny  itself  was  a  brand-new  European  town,  with 
nothing  Chinese  about  it  save  a  few  streets  of  Chinese 
hovels,  which  were  only  to  remain  temporarily ;  for 


FROM  TOKIO  TO  PORT  ARTHUR  5 

the  Australians  themselves  are  not  more  resolved  now 
to  keep  the  Yellow  Race  out  of  Australia  than  the 
Russians  then  were  to  keep  the  Yellow  Race  out  of 
Dalny. 

Considered  as  a  great  port,  Dalny's  one  defect  was 
that  it  had  practically  no  inhabitants.  It  was  like  a 
city  of  the  dead. 

The  only  people  one  met  were  soldiers  or  function- 
aries. A  stonemason  would  walk  slowly  down  the 
street,  and  the  echo  of  his  footsteps  would  have  died 
away  in  the  distance  before  any  one  else  would  come 
along.  Then  a  Cossack  would  gallop!  past  on  a 
hairy,  unkempt  Chinese  pony. 

Sometimes  an  "  izvoshcheek  "  (carriage),  with  an 
officer  in  it,  would  tear  past  at  a  great  rate.  Then 
silence  would  again  prevail. 

Can  the  reader  picture  to  himself  a  suburb  of  some 
European  or  American  town  which  has  been  suddenly 
run  up  during  the  prevalence  of  a  building  craze,  and 
which  has  almost,  but  not  quite,  left  the  hands  of  the 
builder?  Many  families  are  living  in  rows  of  un- 
plastered  houses,  with  blinds  on  the  windows  and 
glaringly  new  tiles  on  the  roof.  Other  houses  are 
completed,  but  are  still  unoccupied,  and  the  floors  are 
encumbered  with  mortar,  nails  and  pieces  of  brick. 
Still  other  houses  are  surrounded  by  scaffolding,  and 
only  half  completed ;  and,  in  their  vicinity,  planks, 
heaps  of  mortar,  piles  of  brick,  stone  and  slates  are 
lying  about  in  all  directions.  Imagine  what  such  a 
suburb  looks  like  at  some  unearthly  hour  in  the  morn- 
ing, say  at  4  a.m.,  in  the  summer-time,  and  you  have  a 
good  idea  of  what  Dalny  looked  like  when  I  visited  it 
at  noon  one  day  in   September  1903.     I  must  admit, 


6  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

however,  that  the  day  in  question  happened  to  be  a 
Russian  holiday,  and  that  work  had,  in  consequence, 
been  suspended.  Everybody  was  in  the  little  brand- 
new  church,  which  I  entered  and  found  crowded  to 
suffocation  with  people — mostly  soldiers — who  were 
all  standing  up  and  all  crossing  themselves  at  frequent 
intervals,  while  black-bearded  Russian  priests,  perspir- 
ing in  gorgeous  vestments,  celebrated  the  Mass.  The 
only  busy  place  in  the  town  was  the  railway  station, 
from  which  a  company  of  soldiers  marched  singing. 

Dalny's  only  place  of  amusement  seemed  to  be  a 
public  garden  situated  at  a  distance  of  some  versts 
from  the  town,  and  planted  with  trees  that  were  all 
very  young  and  did  not  look  as  if  they  would  ever 
get  much  older.  The  greatest  attraction  in  this 
garden  was  a  small  zoological  section  which  contained 
deer,  monkeys,  and  two  bears.  On  the  occasion  of 
my  visit  two  tall  Russians  were  apparently  deriving 
great  amusement  from  the  work  of  giving  these  bears 
lumps  of  sugar,  and  two  very  small  Japanese  in  faded 
European  dress  were  looking  on  with  simulated 
interest  from  a  respectful  distance  and  cackling  obse- 
quiously. 

With  regard  to  scenery,  I  found  Dalny  to  be  about 
the  bleakest  place  I  had  ever  set  eyes  on.  High, 
bare,  quartzite  hills,  yellowish  in  colour  and  with 
hardly  a  blade  of  grass  to  hide  their  repulsive  naked- 
ness, lay  at  the  back  of  the  town  and  stretched  away 
towards  Port  Arthur. 

The  appearance  of  these  hills  was  not  improved  by 
the  fact  that  the  Russians  had  evidently  begun  quarry- 
ing for  stones  on  almost  every  one  of  them,  and  had 
abandoned    nine   out   of  every   ten   of  the   quarries, 


FROM  TOKIO  TO  PORT  ARTHUR  7 

after  having  made  ugly  yellow  gashes  on  the  flanks  of 
the  mountains  and  strewn  the  hill-sides  with  clay  and 
with  unsightly  blocks  of  quartzite.  At  Port  Arthur  the 
case  was  exactly  the  same. 

We  left  Dalny  for  Port  Arthur  at  about  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  I  got  up  at  daybreak  and  remained 
on  deck  until  we  had  reached  our  destination,  for  1 
had  a  presentiment  that  this  coast  would  become 
famous.  The  rocky  shore  was  to  the  last  degree 
bleak  and  inhospitable,  the  only  signs  of  life  I  saw 
being  the  poles  of  a  military  telegraph  wire  which 
here  and  there  stood  out  against  the  sky  ;  and,  in  one 
place,  a  Chinese  fishing  village  at  the  foot  of  the 
cliffs. 

Long  before  we  had  reached  Port  Arthur  we  saw 
in  the  heavens  a  striking  object  which  indicated  that 
we  were  in  the  vicinity  of  Russia's  "  inaccessible 
stronghold  "  and  of  the  fleet  which  Admiral  Alexeieff 
had  been  gradually  concentrating  there  for  years  past. 
That  object  as  a  colossal  pillar  of  black  smoke, 
ending  at  the  top  in  a  mushroom-shaped  cloud,  which 
could  be  seen  towering  over  the  mountain  tops  in  the 
remote  distance.  It  rose  from  the  Russian  battleships 
assembled  at  Port  Arthur.  There  the  King  of  the 
North  had  his  chariots  and  his  horsemen  and  his  many 
ships. 

Skirting  the  huge  bulk  of  Liao-Tau-Shan,  which 
rose,  black,  bleak  and  menacing,  fifteen  hundred  feet 
above  the  sea,  we  cast  anchor  at  about  eleven  o'clock 
in  the  morning  opposite  the  entrance  to  the  inner 
harbour. 

Above  us  towered  Golden  Hill,  with  its  summit  all 
cut  away  in  order  to  make  room  for  the  huge  guns,  of 


8  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

which  six  or  seven  were  clearly  visible  to  the  naked 
eye.  On  the  left-hand  side  of  the  summit  was  a 
flagstaff  for  signalling  purposes.  Behind  the  flagstaff 
was  a  low  stone  house,  and  in  front  of  it  was  a  platform 
of  cement,  on  which,  on  February  9  of  the  following 
year,  I  was  to  see  Admiral  Alexeieff  and  his  staff 
watching  the  naval  battle  raging  below. 

From  their  unmistakable,  pared-away  tops  it  could 
be  seen,  even  by  the  most  unpractised  eye,  that  most 
of  the  other  hills  in  sight  were  also  fortified.  Tower- 
ing over  Tiger's  Tail  Peninsula,  I  could  see  the  masts 
and  the  sinister  fighting  tops  of  the  Russian  warships 
in  the  inner  harbour;  and,  inside  the  entrance  on  the 
left-hand  side,  was  the  torpedo-boat  shed,  the  sea-front 
around  which  looked  as  if  it  had  been  covered  thick 
with  the  stumps  of  trees.  These  were  the  short  masts 
of  a  swarm  of  new  torpedo-boats. 

"  These  boats  come  by  rail,  in  sections,  from  St. 
Petersburg,"  said  a  Russian  passenger  to  me,  "  and 
we  put  them  together  here  at  the  rate  of  two  every 
month,  so  that  every  month  Japan  waits  she'll  have  two 
additional  torpedo-boats  to  reckon  with." 

Beside  us  in  the  outer  roads,  lay  the  Rurik,  in  com- 
parison with  which  we  looked  very  humble  indeed. 
Little  think'st  thou,  O  Imperial  Rurik  !  awesome  in  all 
thy  warlike  panoply,  that,  a  twelvemonth  hence,  that 
Sunrise  flag  shall  send  thee  flaming  to  the  bottom  of 
the  Japan  Sea ! 

My  first  impressions  of  Port  Arthur  city  were  not 
favourable.  The  sea-front  was  covered  with  hillocks 
of  coal  flanked  by  enormous  piles  of  vodka  casks  ;  the 
day  was  hot,  the  air  was  full  of  dust,  and  the  reflection 
of  the  sun  from  the  buildings  and  the  bare  stony  hills 


FROM  TOKIO  TO  PORT  ARTHUR  9 

made  walking  very  disagreeable.  The  streets  were 
crowded,  principally  with  soldiers  and  sailors,  most  of 
whom  wore  enough  medals  to  drown  them  in  case  they 
fell  into  the  water  ;  and  the  izvoshcheeks  that  tore  past 
every  moment  made  it  sometimes  risky  to  cross  them. 
I  was  surprised  to  find  this  love  of  rapid  motion  in  a 
half  Oriental  people  like  the  Russians,  although  Gogol 
might  have  prepared  me  for  it. 

After  having  rescued  my  luggage  from  an  onrush  of 
jabbering  coolies,  I  tried  to  find  a  room  in  one  of  the 
hotels,  or  "  nomeras "  as  they  are  called,  but  it  was 
difficult  work. 

These  "  nomeras,"  I  should  explain,  were  merely 
Chinese  houses,  whitewashed  and  with  glass  windows 
let  into  each  of  the  very  small,  stuffy  and  dirty  rooms 
into  which  the  interior  was  divided.  The  windows 
were  never  opened,  and,  though  they  never  seemed  to 
admit  air,  they  certainly  admitted  large  quantities  of 
fine  dust,  so  that  no  matter  how  often  a  room  was 
cleaned,  it  always  remained  dirty.  I  went  from  one  of 
these  hotels  to  another,  wearily  looking  for  a  room, 
but  in  the  first  three  I  met  with  such  an  indignant 
"  nyet "  that  I  wondered  what  on  earth  I  had  done. 

It  could  not  be  that  there  was  anything  wrong  with 
my  manner  of  asking,  as  my  interpreter  was  a  Russian 
who  had  long  been  resident  in  Port  Arthur,  so  I 
simply  put  it  down  to  ill-breeding. 

In  the  last  available  "hotel" — a  place  called  "  the 
Efeemoff,"  from  the  name  of  its  proprietor — I  found 
a  small,  dirty,  ill-ventilated  chamber,  for  which  I  paid 
three  and  a  half  roubles  a  day.  This  did  not  include 
lighting,  water,  towels,  soap,  bedclothes,  etc.  etc., 
so  that   I   paid  as   much   per  day   for   this  wretched 


io  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

hole  as  I  would  have  paid  for  a  room  in  the  Carlton. 
The  chamber  was  so  small  that  there  was  hardly  space 
for  the  bed  in  it,  and  the  door  was  secured  on  the  out- 
side by  a  padlock  and  hasp,  which  completed  its 
resemblance  to  a  stable.  Most  of  the  other  rooms 
seemed  to  be  occupied  by  young  Jewesses,  who  were 
beautiful  but  had  no  visible  means  of  support.  Their 
frequent  cries  of  "  boyka  !  boyka  /"  indicated  that  a 
Chinese  "  boy  "  was  supposed  to  attend  on  us,  but 
though  on  several  occasions  I  listened  to  his  voice, 
his  celestial  features  I  never  had  the  honour  of  gazing 
on  during  all  the  time  of  my  stay  in  the  "  Efeemoff." 

I  had  to  go  outside  for  my  food,  as  there  was  none  to 
be  had  on  the  premises,  and,  as  no  "  samovar  "  in  Port 
Arthur  was  heated  before  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  I  quickly  contracted  the  pernicious  habit  of 
late  rising. 

All  the  Port  Arthur  hotels,  save  one,  were  kept  by 
Armenians,  and  all  of  them  sheltered  young  damsels 
of  the  same  type  as  those  in  the  "  Efeemoff."  When- 
ever I  mildly  hinted  to  Russians  that  in  England  it 
would  not  be  considered  respectable  for  all  the  hotels 
in  a  town  to  contain  such  guests,  they  would  jump 
with  amazement  at  my  Puritanism.  "Why,  you 
should  have  seen  the  place  six  months  ago  ! "  they 
would  invariably  cry.  "  It's  a  monastery  now,  com- 
pared with  what  it  was  then  ! " 

It  was  just  the  usual  luck  of  the  Russians,  I  suppose, 
that  two  fine  new  hotels  were  completed  in  New  Town 
just  in  time  to  serve  as  targets  for  the  Japanese. 

The  reader  already  knows  that  there  were  an  old 
Port  Arthur  and  a  new  Port  Arthur.  The  old  Port 
Arthur  was  simply  the  Chinese  village  which  existed 


FROM  TOKIO  TO  PORT  ARTHUR  n 

when  the  fortress  was  garrisoned  by  Celestial  troops. 
Nearly  all  the  Chinese  houses  remained,  but  their 
interiors  had,  like  the  "nomeras,"  been  altered  so  as 
to  make  them  serve  as  shops  and  European  resi- 
dences. 

The  shape  of  the  town  was,  roughly,  that  of  a 
triangle — the  base,  which  fronted  the  bay,  being  about 
two  hundred  yards  long,  and  consisting  mostly  of  small 
houses  built  in  the  European  style,  and  the  sides  meet- 
ing a  few  hundred  yards  inland.  A  continuation  of 
one  of  these  sides  contained  the  most  important  shops 
and  commercial  offices  in  the  town,  and  led  eventually 
to  the  new  Chinese  town,  several  miles  distant. 

The  new  Russian  town  was  situated  along  the  bay 
to  the  west,  and  was  reached  by  a  road  running  along 
the  shore  of  the  bay  from  Old  Town.  The  two  towns 
were  about  a  mile  or  so  apart,  and  the  road  between 
them  was  always,  except  in  winter,  either  so  dusty  or 
so  muddy  as  to  be  well  nigh  impassable. 

Towards  nightfall  Port  Arthur  was  at  its  worst.  It 
was  not  lighted  at  all,  and  the  narrow  wooden  footway 
that  ran  along  the  streets  and  raised  one  above  the 
roadway,  on  which  in  summer  time  the  mud  was  ankle 
deep,  was  full  of  treacherous  holes.  Some  planks 
were  all  right  as  long  as  somebody  was  walking  on 
the  other  end  of  them.  When  this  was  not  the  case — 
well,  then  they  were  not  all  right,  as  I  several  times 
learned  to  my  cost. 

The  shops  in  Port  Arthur  generally  sold  liquor, 
tinned  meats,  lamps  and  other  such  necessaries  of  life. 
Thrifty  people  bought  their  goods  in  Chinese  stores, 
while  officers  and  their  wives  were  always  to  be  found 
in  the  large  stores  such  as  Kunst  and  Albers,  Sietas 


12  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Block,  etc.,  where  they  were  always  attended  to  before 
a  civilian.     Business  was  always  very  brisk. 

The  only  bank  in  the  city  was  the  Russo-Chinese 
Bank,  which  was  small  and  always  crowded  like  an 
important  but  inadequate  railway  station,  with  officers, 
soldiers,  and  shaggy  business  men.  Unless  one  was  a 
lady  or  a  military  officer,  he  had  as  a  rule  to  wait 
there  in  a  foetid  atmosphere  for  at  least  four  hours 
before  being  attended  to.  At  the  Post-office  things 
were  nearly  as  bad. 

The  new  town  of  Port  Arthur  was  built  in  a  good 
position,  commanding  as  it  did  the  bay,  and  being  at 
the  same  time  well  sheltered  by  high  hills  from  the 
piercingly  cold  northern  wind  that  blows  well-nigh 
all  the  winter.  No  Chinese  were  allowed  to  reside  in 
it,  and  all  the  houses  had  to  be  built  in  European 
style.  Quite  a  considerable  number  of  houses  had 
been  built  at  the  time  the  war  broke  out,  but  from  an 
architectural  point  of  view  the  whole  effect  was  not 
exactly  good.  Many  houses  were  built  in  weak 
imitation  of  the  German  style,  that  is,  with  little  turrets 
and  odd  gables  and  chimneys.  The  quarters  of  the 
General  Staff  consisted  of  a  massive  block,  two 
storeys  high,  near  which  an  Officers'  Club  was  being 
constructed,  at  an  estimated  outlay  of  about  ,£20,000. 
The  naval  barracks  at  the  far  end  of  the  bay  were 
completed  at  the  time  the  war  broke  out,  and  were 
the  best  buildings  of  their  kind  in  all  the  Far  East, 
with  the  exception  perhaps  of  some  of  the  barracks  in 
India.  They  are  three  storeys  high,  above  three 
hundred  feet  long,  and  capable  of  accommodating  very 
comfortably  one  thousand  sailors.  Opposite  them,  on 
Tiger's  Tail  Peninsula,  were  other  barracks  much  on 


FROM  TOKIO  TO  PORT  ARTHUR         13 

the  same  plan  and  capable  of  housing  about  the  same 
number  of  men.  In  these  barracks  the  men's  food 
was  prepared,  and  in  winter  the  whole  place  was  heated 
by  steam. 

New  Town  resembled  Dalny  inasmuch  as  it  con- 
tained a  great  number  of  half- completed  buildings,  and 
was  at  all  times  as  deserted  as  a  graveyard.  The  two 
or  three  shops  that  were  opened  there  looked  painfully 
new,  and  as  no  customer  ever  by  any  chance  strayed 
into  them,  the  shop  assistants  were  generally  to  be 
found  dozing  in  a  back  room.  In  July  1904  Old  Town 
was  to  be  abandoned  and  afterwards  razed  to  the 
ground,  but,  in  spite  of  this,  few  of  the  merchants  took 
any  steps  to  provide  themselves  with  premises  else- 
where. Perhaps  they  had  a  presentiment  that  New 
Town  would  never  receive  them. 

The  most  remarkable  public  work  that  was  going  on 
in  Port  Arthur  at  the  time  the  war  began  was  the 
Sobor  or  Russian  Cathedral.  The  top  of  the  hill 
between  New  Town  and  Old  Town  and  overlooking 
the  harbour  had  been  sliced  off  at  enormous  expense 
in  order  to  make  room  for  the  massive  foundations 
which,  looking  like  the  stump  of  some  gigantic  feudal 
castle,  formed  a  striking  feature  in  the  landscape.  This 
unfinished  work  was  the  first  thing  my  eyes  used  to  fall 
on  in  the  morning  after  I  had  left  my  house  in  New 
Town  to  walk  to  the  Novi  Krai  office,  and  I  can  still 
remember  it  covered  with  pigmy  figures  of  stone- 
masons and  Chinese  labourers  going  to  and  fro.  The 
broad  roadway  that  wound  gracefully  up  to  it  was  the 
only  good  road  in  Port  Arthur,  I  suppose  because  it 
was  the  one  road  that  was  never  used. 

When  completed,  this  Cathedral  was  to  have  been 


i4  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

as  high  as  St.  Paul's,  and,  if  one  can  judge  from  the 
designs,  of  great  architectural  beauty.  In  fact  there 
would  have  been  in  the  Far  East  no  Christian  church, 
save  perhaps  the  Russian  Cathedral  at  Tokio,  to  com- 
pare with  it ;  and  the  Russians  often  told  me  that  the 
powerful  electric  light  which  would  be  placed  on  the 
cross  at  its  summit  would  be  visible  to  mariners  far  off 
at  sea.     Alas  !  that  light  will  never  shine  ! 


CHAPTER  II 

LIFE  IN  PORT  ARTHUR 

On  the  second  day  after  my  arrival  in  Port  Arthur  I 
went  to  see  Colonel  Artemieff,  the  editor  of  the  Novi 
Krai,  a  Russian  tri-weekly  paper  supposed  to  be  the 
organ  of  Admiral  Alexeieff,  and  well  known  at  that 
time  on  account  of  its  periodical  outbursts  against 
Japan.  I  found  that  the  colonel  had  been  informed  of 
my  arrival,  and  had  published  a  flattering  notice  of  me 
in  his  paper.  He  told  me  that  he  was  going  to  start 
an  English  edition  of  the  Novi  Krai  in  a  month  or  so, 
and  that  he  would  like  me  to  edit  it.  In  the  meantime 
he  would  pay  me  a  retaining  fee.  As  this  was  a 
straightforward  business  offer  which  left  me  free  to 
write  as  I  liked  about  the  Russians,  I  at  once  accepted 
it  ;  and,  a  few  days  after,  the  colonel  got  me  a  little 
sanctum  of  my  own  at  the  office  in  Pushkin  Street,  and 
asked  me  to  come  there  every  day  to  get  practice  in 
Russian  by  conversing  with  the  members  of  his  staff,  to 
whom  he  ceremoniously  presented  me  as  u  our  new 
English  editor."  The  publication  of  the  English  paper 
was,  I  may  remark,  the  idea  of  the  Viceroy,  who 
was  pro- English,  and  very  anxious  to  come  to  some 
arrangement  with  England  instead  of  with  Japan, 
which  he  regarded  as  an  upstart  Asiatic  Power. 

The  Novi  Krai  office  was  somewhat  different  to  the 


16  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

newspaper  offices  to  which  I  had  been  accustomed, 
inasmuch  as  nearly  everybody  in  it  was  either  an 
officer  or  a  soldier.  The  colonel  seemed  incapable  of 
writing  an  editorial  unless  he  were  in  full  uniform,  with 
his  sword  hanging  by  his  side.  The  printer's  devil 
was  a  soldier  who  saluted  and  stood  to  attention  when 
he  brought  the  proofs,  and  the  office  was  filled  all  day 
long  with  Siberian  Fusiliers  carrying  messages  from 
their  chiefs,  and  also  carrying  rifles  and  fixed  bayo- 
nets. One  would  have  thought  that  the  serpent  of 
treason  would  never  enter  such  a  military  Eden  as 
this,  but,  some  time  after  my  arrival,  our  manager 
was  discovered  to  belong  to  a  revolutionary  body, 
and  was  accordingly  lodged  in  the  "arrestny  dom,"  or 
house  of  detention.  Another  of  our  men  was  a  student 
who  had  for  political  reasons  been  exiled  from  St. 
Petersburg,  a  third  was  the  son  of  a  political  exile, 
and  a  fourth  was  a  young  man  called  Trotsky,  who 
had  a  somewhat  remarkable  history.  The  son  of  a 
prefectural  Governor  in  European  Russia,  he  was 
cursed  by  a  bad  temper,  which  had  led  him  just 
before  my  arrival  to  assault  a  superior  officer,  for 
which  offence  he  was  court-martialled  and  reduced  to 
the  ranks.  When,  in  the  middle  of  1904,  I  joined 
General  Mishchenko,  I  met  Trotsky  in  that  com- 
mander's etat-major,  still  a  private  soldier  but  attached 
in  some  way  to  the  staff.  He  took  part  in  all  the 
fighting,  always  displaying  great  bravery,  and,  just 
before  the  battle  of  the  Shaho,  he  made,  with  three 
or  four  Cossacks,  an  important  reconnaissance,  which 
necessitated  his  lying  hidden  for  days  in  the  "  Kiao- 
liang  fields,  with  the  result  that  his  health  was 
seriously  impaired.     He  was  promised  a  commission, 


LIFE  IN  PORT  ARTHUR  17 

however  ;  but,  while  celebrating  the  occasion  in  a 
Mukden  tavern,  he  assaulted  a  colonel,  for  which 
offence  he  was  court-martialled  and  shot. 

At  first  I  felt  a  great  repulsion  for  the  Russians 
and  an  intense  dislike  for  Port  Arthur.  This  was 
primarily  due  to  a  feeling  of  acute  mental  distress, 
une  inquietude  de  deracine,  which  I  suffer  from 
every  time  I  change  my  country,  but  it  was  also  due 
to  home-sickness  for  Japan,  whose  loveliness  now 
seemed  by  contrast  to  be  something  heavenly.  This 
feeling  gradually  wore  off,  however,  as  my  circle  of 
friends  widened,  and  I  soon  began  to  take  a  lively 
interest  in  the  Russians  and  in  their  great  fortress 
over  which  the  shadow  of  war  then  lay  deep. 

What  contributed  a  good  deal  to  dissipate  my 
gloom  was  the  fact  that  I  soon  got  comfortable  quarters 
in  the  house  of  Captain  Yanchivetsky,  an  officer  of  the 
Fortress  Artillery,  who  lived  in  New  Town.  Yanchi- 
vetsky, who  was  a  good  sculptor  in  wood  and  an 
enthusiastic  gardener,  spent  all  his  spare  time  with  his 
wife  and  little  children,  and  led,  in  short,  the  happy 
domestic  life  that  the  average  Russian  officer  leads.  I 
generally  walked  to  Old  Town  every  day,  dining 
there  in  the  evening  at  the  "  Saratoff,"  a  small 
bungalow-shaped  building  which  faced  the  harbour 
and  which  was  regarded  as  the  Cafe  Royal  of  the 
city.  The  "  Saratoff"  was  almost  always  crowded 
with  officers  drinking  amber-coloured  tea  out  of  beer 
glasses,  and  speaking  loudly,  and  occasionally  it  was 
difficult  for  a  mere  civilian  to  get  served  at  all.  Some- 
times I  used  to  wait  hours  there,  the  Russian  waiter 
peevishly  shouting,  "Sichas!*  Sichas ! "  (Immedi- 
ately !  Immediately  !)  every  time  I  called  "  Tchelovek  I" 


1 8  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

and  then  going  off  and  forgetting  all  about  me.  I 
never  before  saw  such  dirty  table-linen  as  that  of 
which  the  u  Saratoff "  boasted,  and  its  clientele  was  on 
a  par  with  its  table-linen,  for  most  of  the  people  I  met 
there — and  they  included  some  of  the  leading  business 
men  of  the  place — looked  as  if  they  made  it  a  habit  of 
sleeping  in  their  clothes. 

As  a  rule  there  was  more  noise  than  drunkenness 
in  the  "  Saratoff,"  but  occasionally,  owing  to  some 
trifling  circumstance,  such  as  an  air  that  recalled  the 
Don  or  the  Volga  or  the  singing  of  the  Tsiganes  at 
the  "Tachkent"  or  "  Samarcande  "  in  St.  Petersburg, 
from  the  broken-down  string  band  which  performed  in 
the  verandah,  a  wave  of  intoxication  would  sweep 
over  the  place,  and  those  overwhelmed  by  it  would 
wake  up  next  day  in  the  Amerikansky  Dom  or  the 
Yaponsky  Dom,  or  perhaps  in  the  middle  of  the 
street. 

There  were  few  outdoor  amusements  in  Port 
Arthur.  Sometimes  I  went  with  some  Russian  friends 
on  a  picnic  to  Pigeon  Bay  or  Louisa  Bay  or  the 
Waterworks,  in  which  latter  place  a  few  stunted  trees 
and  several  blades  of  grass  made  the  scene  look 
almost  home-like. 

Sometimes  we  hired  a  "sampan  "  (Chinese  boat)  and, 
passing  down  the  formidable  lane  of  battle-ships,  had  a 
swim  and  an  al  fresco  lunch  somewhere  along  the 
rocky  coast.  Horse-races  were  held  once  or  twice  a 
year  on  the  parade-ground,  and  at  these  races  a  good 
rider  named  Collins  won  many  prizes,  and  became  in 
consequence  a  great  favourite  with  the  Russian 
officers.  Collins,  who  is  half  English  and  half 
Japanese,  is  now  serving  a  sentence  of  penal  servitude 


LIFE  IN  PORT  ARTHUR  19 

in  Japan,  where  he  was  arrested  soon  after  the  war 
broke  out  on  a  charge  of  espionage. 

Port  Arthur  was  a  strange  cross  between  Waldersee's 
Lager  and  a  mining  camp  in  the  Wild  West  with  a 
strain  of  the  St.  Petersburg  salon.  If  it  had  been 
garrisoned  by  English  troops  it  would  have  been 
clean,  respectable,  and  deadly  dull.  Under  the 
Russian  regime  it  was  very  dirty  and  very  gay.  The 
Viceroy,  the  generals,  the  admiral  and  the  higher 
civil,  military  and  naval  officers  were  continually 
giving  dinners,  but  the  two  great  social  fixtures  of 
each  week  were  the  balls  at  the  Morsky  and  Garizonye 
Sobranie  (Naval  and  Military  Clubs). 

The  Naval  Club  was  installed  in  an  old  Chinese 
temple  near  Admiral  Alexeieffs  house,  and,  on  special 
occasions,  the  balls  there  were  attended  by  the 
Viceroy,  who  never  danced  however,  but  generally 
sat  at  the  head  of  the  hall,  talking  to  Madame  Starck 
in  German,  for,  like  her  husband  the  admiral,  Madame 
Starck  did  not  speak  Russian  very  fluently, 

After  the  Saturday  night  ball  at  the  Military  Club 
there  was  always  a  theatrical  performance  given  by 
amateurs,  and  at  every  one  of  these  performances 
Madame  Stoessel  insisted  on  playing  the  leading 
female  part.  Luckily  she  played  well.  Scenes  from 
the  Russian  dramatists,  generally  Ozerov,  Tolstoi, 
Tchekoff,  Griboiedof,  Tchirikov,  Andreeiv,  and  Gogol, 
and  from  English,  French  and  German  dramatists, 
were  usually  selected.  In  January  there  was  a  fine 
exhibition  of  Russian  and  French  oil  paintings  which 
the  Viceroy  had  persuaded  somebody,  by  the  offer  of 
a  subsidy,  to  bring  all  the  way  from  Irkutsk. 

The  balls  were  very  enjoyable  functions,  and,  owing 


20  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

to  the  overwhelming  preponderance  of  the  military 
element,  very  picturesque.  The  sight  of  the  officers 
dancing  the  Mazurka  in  their  variegated  uniforms  and 
with  jingling  spurs,  while,  outside,  the  clouds  gathered 
thick  on  the  political  horizon,  made  me  frequently 
repeat  to  myself  that  well-worn  quotation  from  Byron 
in  which  the  lamps  shine  o'er  fair  women  and  brave 
men.  What  added,  in  a  way  that  I  cannot  quite  ex- 
plain, to  the  eerie  feeling  of  impending  disaster  that 
sometimes  took  possession  of  us  was  the  whisper  which 
one  heard  repeated  everywhere  among  the  Russians, 
that  the  Viceroy  who  ruled  this  turbulent,  doomed  city 
owed  his  position  to  the  fact  that  he  was  a  natural  son 
of  the  Tsar  Alexander  II.  by  a  Roumanian  woman,  and 
the  admiral's  personal  appearance  lent  some  support  to 
this  theory. 

As  is  generally  the  case  in  Russia,  the  dancing  was 
the  best  in  the  world,  and  the  music  was  such  as  is 
seldom  heard  in  the  Far  East ;  but,  unfortunately,  the 
tragic  events  which  followed  so  rapidly  make  this  gay 
music,  when  I  hear  it  now,  sound  in  my  ears  like  a 
funeral  march.     To  quote  the  Russian  poet  Vaesemsky : 

That  ballad  ! — 'tis  now  a  funeral  dirge, 
That  dance  ! — the  memories  of  it  chill  me, 
Like  the  sheeted  ghosts  of  the  dead. 

Over  a  dozen  dear  friends  whose  acquaintance  I  made 
at  these  functions  are  now  at  the  bottom  of  the  Yellow 
Sea.     Two  of  them  went  down  in  the  Petropavlovsk. 

Most  of  the  Russian  naval  officers  I  found  to  be 
much  superior  in  manners  and  in  education  to  the 
average  military  officer.  The  only  fault  I  could  find 
with  them — and  it  was  not  a  serious  one  from  a  sailor's 


LIFE  IN  PORT  ARTHUR  21 

point  of  view — was  that  some  of  the  younger  men  were 
too  ostentatiously  immoral.  As  for  the  bluejackets, 
they  all  looked  like  farm-hands  that  had  never  been 
aboard  ship  in  their  lives  ;  and  at  Christmas,  Easter 
and  other  solemn  holidays  of  the  Church,  they  got 
drunk  with  a  unanimity  and  a  completeness  that  has 
never,  perhaps,  been  surpassed  in  any  navy,  even  in 
Nelson's. 

Happening  to  call  on  some  friends  at  the  "  Morsky 
Lazarette"  (Naval  Hospital)  on  New  Year's  Day,  1904, 
I  found  such  a  stream  of  wounded  men  being  carried 
into  the  building  that  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  a 
battle  was  being  fought  somewhere  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. The  explanation  was  that  the  men  had  all  got 
so  dead  drunk  that  they  were  being  constantly  run 
over  by  "  izvoshcheeks,"  falling  down  staircases,  and 
getting  into  all  sorts  of  scrapes. 

Another  place  of  amusement  was  the  subsidised 
theatre,  the  Tifontai  Theatre  as  it  was  called  after  its 
proprietor,  a  Chinese  millionaire,  who  owned  an  enor- 
mous amount  of  property  in  Port  Arthur,  Dalny, 
Liaoyang  and  Mukden,  and  was  a  great  favourite  with 
the  Russians.  Some  fairly  good  Russian  companies 
performed  in  this  theatre  during  the  winter  I  spent  in 
Port  Arthur,  the  plays  of  Tchekoff  and  Gogol  being 
the  favourites.  Gogol's  "  Vli  "  was  a  great  success  in 
January  ;  and  just  before  the  war  broke  out,  Jerome  K. 
Jerome's  play,  Miss  Hobbs  (or  as  the  Russians  spelt 
the  name,  owing  to  the  deficiencies  of  their  alphabet, 
Gobbs),  was  being  played  ;  but  the  great  attractions  at 
that  time  were  a  circus,  Barowfski's  Circus,  in  which 
there  were  some  good  performing  horses,  and  a  new 
cafe  chantant  in  "  Novi  Gorod  "  (New  Town),  both  of 


22  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

which  places  were  well  attended,  even  on  the  night  of 
Togo's  attack.  At  that  time  the  new  cafe  chantant 
was  still  respectable  enough  for  married  people  to  go 
to,  but  a  few  days  more  and  it  would  have  gone  the 
way  of  its  predecessor  the  Palermo,  in  "  Stare  Gorod  " 
(Old  Town)  which  had  to  be  closed  on  account  of  the 
orgies  which  officers  used  to  indulge  in  there. 

The  Russian  officer  is,  as  a  rule,  a  sober,  well- 
behaved  man,  with  a  good  knowledge  of  the  beautiful 
literature  of  his  own  country  ;  but  in  every  regiment 
there  are  a  few  Russian  officers  who  take  their  plea- 
sures, not  sadly,  but  madly,  rushing  on  the  stage  to 
embrace  actresses,  firing  their  revolvers,  hacking  at 
chairs  and  tables  with  their  swords  and  behaving 
generally  like  gay  young  seigneurs  at  the  Strelna  or 
Mauritania  in  Moscow.  Unfortunately  these  men 
have  given  a  bad  reputation  to  the  whole 
army. 

As  for  the  soldiers,  the  only  specimen  who  came 
directly  under  my  observation  at  this  time  was  a  young 
Pole,  one  of  Captain  Yanchivetsky's  orderlies,  who 
tidied  up  my  room  every  morning.  He  used  to  enter 
cautiously  in  high  boots,  great  coat  and  busby,  looking 
like  some  large  winter  animal  that  has  lived  all  its  life 
in  the  outer  cold  and  consequently  feels  uneasy  inside 
of  four  walls.  The  other  soldiers  in  the  garrison 
seemed  to  spend  most  of  their  time  carrying  huge 
ikons  for  the  regimental  church  or  the  pots  and  pans 
and  furniture  of  their  officers.  Sometimes  Russian 
officers  went  in  too  systematically  for  making  money 
out  of  their  men,  with  the  result  that  the  higher  au- 
thorities had  to  interfere.  I  remember  that  one 
wretched,  weedy-looking  private  used  to  come  around 


LIFE  IN  PORT  ARTHUR  23 

to  my  house  every  morning  in  order  to  sell  me  milk 
and  cheese  on  the  part  of  his  captain's  wife. 

The  Jews  had  a  remarkable  hold  in  Port  Arthur. 
All  the  leading  merchants  seemed  to  be  Jews,  and 
almost  all  the  people  who  made  money  out  of  Russia 
along  the  China  coast  throughout  the  war  were  Jewish 
capitalists.  One  rich  Russian  Jew  in  Shanghai  made 
enormous  profits  out  of  the  repatriation  of  the  wounded 
and  paroled  soldiers  and  officers  from  Port  Arthur ; 
and  another,  the  well-known  Baron  Ginsberg,  probably 
trebled  his  vast  wealth  by  supplying  stores  to  Rodjest- 
vensky's  fleet.  I  met  Ginsberg's  brother  supervising 
this  work  in  Saigon,  and  I  regret  to  say  that  a  lot  of 
the  stores  he  supplied  were  refused  by  the  captains  of 
the  German  transports  which  accompanied  the  Fleet. 
Some  of  these  captains  curtly  declared  that  the  stores 
were  rotten,  but  I  do  not  know  if  this  was  really  the 
case. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE  GATHERING   CLOUDS 

It  was  an  important  day  for  me  who  had  spent  so 
much  of  my  life  in  the  torrid  zone,  when  I  saw  my 
Polish  soldier  double  the  windows  in  my  room  and 
light  a  fire  in  the  tall  Russian  stove,  for  I  knew  that  I 
was  going  to  see  for  the  first  time  what  a  northern 
winter  was  like. 

Stern  winter  was  kind  as  a  mother  to  Port  Arthur. 
She  covered  his  scars  and  wrinkles  with  a  mantle  of 
snow,  so  that  sometimes  he  became  marvellously 
beautiful.  This  was  especially  the  case  in  the  early 
morning  when  the  red  sun  rose  behind  Golden  Hill, 
throwing  a  long  bridge  of  light  across  the  blue-green 
sea,  when  203-Metre  Hill  wore  a  spotless  robe  of  white, 
and  Liao-Tau-Shan's  scarred  summit,  crowned  with  a 
diadem  of  snow,  stood  out  clear-cut  against  a  cloudless 
sky.  Towards  Christmas  the  water  along  the  sea 
shore  was  frozen  hard,  a  cutting  wind  had  set  in  from 
the  north,  and  nobody  ventured  out  without  a  great- 
coat. The  days  became  gloomy,  but  not  so  gloomy 
as  the  political  horizon,  which  was  now  as  black  as 
Erebus.  In  fact,  from  the  day  I  landed  in  Port  Arthur, 
the  clouds,  which  afterwards  burst  in  such  a  terrific 
tempest,  slowly  began  to  gather  ;  but,  in  some  manner 
that  I  cannot  quite  explain,  we  were  all  blinded  to  the 


THE  GATHERING  CLOUDS  25 

logical  outcome  of  the  situation,  and  believed  till  the 
very  last  that  there  would  be  no  war.  The  fatal 
October  8  came,  and  Alexeieff  celebrated  it  by  com- 
bined naval  and  military  manoeuvres,  whose  meaning 
was  emphasised  by  an  editorial  which  he  caused  to  be 
written  in  the  Novi  Krai.  In  this  editorial  Artemieff 
— or  rather  Alexeieff — declared  that  the  Russians 
would  never  leave  Manchuria,  and  made  use  in  this 
connection  of  MacMahon's  famous  phrase,  fy  suis  ; 
fy  reste. 

The  manoeuvres  were  followed  by  a  naval  review  off 
Talienwan,  after  which  Alexeieff  went  on  board  each 
ship  and  made  an  appropriate  speech  to  the  officers 
and  men. 

On  the  Sevastopol,  for  instance,  he  spoke  of  the 
brave  defence  which  the  city  of  Sevastopol  had  made 
against  the  English  and  French,  and  declared  that,  if 
necessary,  the  Russians  of  to-day  would  fight  as  well 
as  their  fathers  had  done. 

On  Sunday,  October  11,  there  was  a  great  review 
in  the  Suwarov  Parade-ground,  on  which  occasion 
Alexeieff,  addressing  the  officers,  hinted  that  they 
might  soon  be  called  upon  to  prove  their  devotion  to 
the  Tsar  and  to  Russia.  The  Russians  told  me  that 
there  were  about  40,000  men  at  that  review,  and  I 
accordingly  said  so  in  my  wire  to  the  Herald,  but  I 
afterwards  discovered  that  15,000  or  20,000  was 
nearer  the  mark.  Mr.  Davidson,  an  American  Consul, 
who  was  present,  was  told  that  the  number  was  75,000, 
and  I  understand  that  he  believed  it,  and  wired  the 
American  Government  accordingly. 

The  Novi  Krai  came  out  next  day  with  a  most 
enthusiastic  account  of  this  function  and  of  the  appear- 


26  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

ance  of  the  troops,  and  inveighed  at  the  same  time 
against  Japanese  spies,  who  were,  it  declared,  getting 
infromation  of  every  military  movement  that  was 
taking  place  in  Manchuria.  This  was,  I  think,  on 
account  of  the  presence  at  the  review  of  a  number  of 
Japanese,  who  seemed  too  absorbed  in  the  enumeration 
of  the  forces  and  the  examination  of  the  soldiers' 
shoulder-straps  to  pay  any  attention  to  the  indignant 
glances  that  were  levelled  at  them  by  the  Russians. 
As  a  result  of  this  incident,  perhaps,  all  the  Japanese 
workmen  employed  at  the  new  naval  dock  were  dis- 
charged on  October  16. 

About  this  time  (October  19),  the  Novi  Krai 
scolded  America  for  insisting  on  Mukden  being 
opened  to  international  commerce  ;  and  on  October  19 
I  saw  Alexeieff  in  his  house,  and,  among  other  things, 
asked  him  about  this  Mukden  business.  But  he 
responded  airily,  with  the  observation  : 

"  We  shall  settle  that  matter  easily,  without 
impairing  our  old  friendship  with  America.  Inter- 
national commerce  must  have  its  way." 

When  I  told  him  what  the  Japanese  and  English 
papers  were  saying  about  Yongampho,  he  said : 
"  These  stories  are  all  fabricated  with  the  object  of 
causing  a  sensation.  There's  no  fort,  no  cannon,  not 
a  single  Russian  bayonet  at  Yongampho." 

He  spoke  about  the  trouble  he  had  with  the  bandits 
in  Manchuria.  "  Outside  the  railway  zone,"  said  he, 
"  and  especially  in  the  east  of  Manchuria  between 
Harbin  and  Vladivostock,  we  have  trouble  with  them 
all  the  time.  Manchuria  is  a  robber-ridden  country. 
I  often  receive  petitions  from  the  Chinese  begging 
me  to  retain  my  troops  in  the  country,  and  I  should 


THE  GATHERING  CLOUDS  27 

receive  many  more  such    petitions    were  it  not  that 
the  people  are  terrorised  by  the  Mandarins." 

In  November  there  was  a  lull,  but  in  December  the 
clouds  began  to  thicken,  and  the  air  was  filled  with 
rumours  of  war.  On  December  20  we  heard  of  an 
assembly  of  military  transports  in  Hiroshima.  A  few 
days  after  we  learned  that  2000  picked  recruits  had 
passed  the  Dardanelles  in  the  Kazan. 

In  common  with  most  other  Russian  papers  in 
Europe  and  Siberia,  the  Novi  Krai  began  at  this  time 
to  get  very  anxious  about  the  future  of  the  White 
Race  owing  to  the  Yellow  Peril,  and  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  oppose  a  pan- 
European  alliance  to  the  pan-Asiatic  alliance  which 
Japan  was  forming.  For  a  short  sime  I  was  impressed 
by  this  cry,  for  I  thought  it  possible  that  the  Russians 
had  an  instinctive  dread  of  again  coming  under  the  heel 
of  the  Yellow  conqueror,  who  had  trampled  on  them 
for  centuries  ;  but  I  finally  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
all  their  fears  of  the  Yellow  races  over-running 
Europe  were  simulated. 

The  English  edition  of  the  Novi  Krai  was  to  come 
out  on  January  1,  but,  when  questioned  about  it, 
Alexeieff,  whose  nerves  were  at  this  time  beginning  to 
give  way  under  the  strain  of  the  negotiations  with 
Japan,  exclaimed  with  a  dramatic  gesture  :  "  How 
can  you  expect  me  to  think  about  a  newspaper  at  such 
a  time  as  this,  when  the  clouds  are  becoming  blacker 
and  blacker  ?" 

Early  in  January,  the  Novi  Krai,  which  was  now  a 
daily  paper,  came  out  with  a  very  violent  utterance 
on  the  Manchurian  question. 

' 'Manchuria,"  it  said,  "is  henceforth  Russian  and 


28  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

will  never  be  surrendered.  At  present  the  Russo- 
Japanese  negotiations  deal  only  with  Korea,  and  these 
negotiations  will  terminate  most  favourably  for  Russia  if 
she  keeps  a  powerful  fleet  at  Port  Arthur,  and  300,000 
bayonets  in  Manchuria.  Russia  is  not  afraid  of  war 
but  she  does  not  want  it,  and  is  therefore  trying  to 
make  it  impossible." 

The  Japanese  Foreign  Office  seems  to  have  called 
the  attention  of  the  Russians  to  this  statement  in  the 
Novi  Krai,  for  that  paper  now  placed  in  a  prominent 
position  on  its  front  page  a  standing  notice  to  the 
effect  that  it  was  not  semi-official. 

On  January  6,  a  month  before  diplomatic  relations 
were  broken  off  by  Japan,  the  Russian  warships,  then 
lying  in  the  inner  harbour,  began  to  put  on  their  war- 
paint, and,  singularly  enough,  quite  a  number  of  young 
naval  officers,  nearly  all  of  them  belonging  to  the 
Petropavlovsk,  began  about  the  same  time  to  get 
married ! 

My  first  glance  as  soon  as  I  left  my  house  every 
morning  was  now  directed  towards  these  ominous 
black  battleships  as  they  lay  in  the  inner  harbour,  for 
I  felt  that  as  soon  as  they  went  to  sea,  it  was  war. 
My  excitement  was  great  therefore  when  on  the 
morning  of  January  7  I  found  that  four  warships 
were  missing.  At  the  Novi  Krai  office  they  told  me 
that  these  four  had  gone  outside  with  sealed  orders, 
but  that  their  object  was  probably  to  reinforce  the 
Russian  cruisers  already  at  sea,  by  which  I  suppose  the 
Vladivostock  and  Chemulpo  vessels  were  meant,  and 
in  combination  with  these  to  attack  a  Japanese  squadron 
of  four  ironclads  that  were  approaching  the  Korean 
coast. 


THE  GATHERING  CLOUDS  29 

Three  days  after,  we  heard  that  the  Vladivostock 
warships  started  to  come  south,  but  that,  after  having 
gone  a  certain  distance,  they  had  returned  to  port. 

The  object  of  these  mysterious  movements  was  to 
bring  about  a  junction  of  the  Vladivostock  and  Port 
Arthur  squadrons  ;  but  the  Russians  saw  that,  sooner 
than  allow  this  junction  to  take  place,  the  Japanese 
would  make  war  at  once,  and  they  therefore  fell  back  on 
their  old  policy  of  waiting. 

On  January  12  we  got  a  wire  saying  that  the  elder 
statesmen  of  Japan  had  been  assembled  by  the  Mikado, 
and,  while  we  were  wondering  what  this  might  mean, 
the  Japanese  shopkeepers  in  Port  Arthur  and  Dalny 
began  with  one  accord  to  sell  out.  Great  crowds  of 
Russians,  especially  officers'  wives,  attended  these  sales, 
and  I  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  buy  some 
expensive  furniture  for  my  room  in  Novi  Gorod.  The 
Japanese  shopkeepers  indignantly  denied  that  anybody 
had  told  them  to  clear  out.  They  said  that  they  were 
going  away  of  their  own  accord,  because  they  were 
afraid  that  there  would  be  war.  As  is  generally  the 
case  in  a  clearance  sale,  they  all  got  very  good  prices 
for  their  goods. 

Then  arose  a  crop  of  rumours,  in  the  midst  of  which 
came,  silently,  one  disquieting  fact.  The  sailing  of  all 
the  Nippon  Yusen  Kaisha  steamers  had  been  cancelled  ; 
the  lines  to  America,  Australia,  Bombay  and  Europe 
had  been  suspended  ;  and  eighty  fine  passenger  steamers 
were  now  at  the  disposal  of  the  Japanese  Government. 
From  this  date  the  Japanese  flag  was  seen  no  more  in 
Port  Arthur  until  it  came  to  stay. 

The  Russians,  who  had  up  to  this  believed  that  the 
Japanese   were  only   "  bluffing,"   now  began  to  look 


30  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

serious,  for  on  January  18  a  meeting  of  generals  was 
held  to  make  arrangements  for  mobilisation. 

On  January  20,  and  during  the  succeeding  few 
days,  7000  troops  belonging  to  the  3rd  Brigade  of  the 
East  Siberian  Rifles  left  Port  Arthur  by  train  for  the 
Yalu.  They  were  accompanied  by  several  batteries 
and  several  sotnia  of  Cossacks,  and  were  carefully 
watched  by  three  Japanese,  whom  I  can  scarcely  call 
secret  agents,  for  their  mission  was  plain. 

One  day,  while  this  ominous  exodus  of  troops  was 
taking  place,  and  while  I  was  reading  Turgieneff  in 
my  over-heated  Russian  room,  a  seedy-looking  man 
came  to  see  me.  He  at  once  told  me  that  he  was  a 
military  officer  of  a  certain  great  Power — in  fact,  I 
may  as  well  say  that  he  was  Colonel  Ducat,  the  British 
military  attache  at  Peking — and  had  come  to  Port 
Arthur  incognito,  in  order  to  see  for  himself  how  things 
stood  there.  He  questioned  me  very  closely  about 
the  garrison,  and  finally  suggested,  in  an  affable,  off- 
hand way,  that  I  should  procure  for  him  any  military 
lists,  regulations,  etc.,  that  were  being  printed  at  the 
Novi  Krai  office.  Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Novi 
Krai  was  very  busy  at  this  time  printing  such  docu- 
ments, but  of  course  I  could  not  betray  my  Russian 
employers  in  this  way. 

On  the  20th  we  got  word  that  the  Aurora, 
Orel,  and  nine  torpedo-boats,  had  entered  the  canal, 
and  that  the  Kasuga  had  left  Aden  and  the 
Nisshin  had  left  Perim.  The  race  was  getting 
exciting. 

On  January  24  all  the  flour  in  Port  Arthur  was 
bought  up.  On  January  25  all  the  horses  belonging 
to  residents  were  examined  by  the  military  authorities, 


THE  GATHERING  CLOUDS  31 

who  said  that,  if  necessary,  they  would  impress  such 
as  proved  suitable  for  military  purposes. 

On  January  28  AlexeiefT  had  a  wire  from  the 
Russian  military  attache  at  Tokio,  respecting  the 
mobilisation  of  the  Japanese  army. 

On  February  1  the  Kassuga  and  Nisshin  were  at 
Singapore.  On  February  2  the  Retvizan,  Peresviet, 
Tsarevitch,  and  Sevastopol,  which  had,  up  to  this  time, 
been  in  the  inner  harbour,  joined  the  outside  fleet, 
which  consisted  of  the  battle-ships  Pobieda,  Petro- 
pavlovsk,  Poltava,  and  the  cruisers  Diana,  Pallada, 
Askold,  Bayan  and  Boyarin,  and  on  February  2 
all  the  vessels  were  in  battle  array  in  the  outer  harbour. 
Just  before  this  junction  was  effected  a  British 
merchant  steamer  collided  with  another  steamer  in  the 
inner  harbour,  and  ran  down  a  steam-launch  on  its  way 
out ;  and  this  led  the  Russians  to  say  that  the  Japanese 
had  offered  the  captain  50,000  roubles  if  he  would  sink 
his  ship  or  some  other  ship  in  the  narrow  entrance,  and 
thus  prevent  the  two  sections  of  the  Russian  fleet  from 
joining  for  a  day  or  two.  The  story  is  not  incredible  ; 
anyhow  it  scared  the  Russians  very  much  ;  and  on  the 
pretence  that  several  cases  of  cholera  had  been  dis- 
covered in  Chefoo,  they  now  imposed  forty-eight  hours' 
quarantine  on  all  foreign  steamers,  and,  when  that 
period  was  expired,  insisted  on  a  Government  tug-boat 
tugging  them  into  Port  Arthur.  In  this  way  they 
could  not  accidentally  sink  themselves,  and  could  not 
run  on  mines.  On  the  5th  the  quarantine  was  lifted 
for  about  ten  minutes  and  then  reimposed  again. 

Things  were  now  getting  exciting,  so  I  went  to  see 
M.  Plancon,  the  chief  of  Alexeieff  s  Diplomatic  Bureau, 
and  found  him  exceedingly  wroth  with  the  Japanese. 


32  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

"  They're  mad  !  The  Japanese  are  mad  !  "  he  cried. 
"  They're  now  making  naval  demonstrations  along  the 
Korean  coast.  There  are  even  transports  with  their 
fleet.  Now,  they  expect  us  to  go  out  and  sink  those 
transports  and  thus  begin  the  war." 

"  And  will  you  ?  "  I  asked  breathlessly. 

"Well,  I  can't  say  what  we'll  do,"  said  M.  Plancon, 
"but  I  can  tell  you  that  if  this  sort  of  thing  goes  on 
much  longer  Russia  will  strike,  and  will  strike  hard." 

"Well  now,  between  ourselves,  M.  Plancon,"  said 
I,  "  what  do  you  think  it  all  means  ?  " 

"I  think,"  said  he,  "that  it  means  this.  Japan  is 
now  awaiting  our  answer  to  her  last  proposal,  and  she 
thinks  by  these  demonstrations,  which  really  mean 
nothing  at  all,  to  make  us  yield  as  much  as  possible. 
But  she'll  find  that  she's  mistaken.  We  shall  just 
make  the  same  proposals  as  we  should  have  made  had 
there  been  no  demonstrations  at  all." 

I  wired  to  the  Herald,  through  Chefoo,  a  resume1  of 
this  conversation,  but  I  don't  think  it  ever  reached 
the  Herald.  It  reached  the  Japanese  Consulate  in 
Chefoo,  however  ;  for,  a  few  days  after,  Mr.  Midzuno 
startled  me  by  accidentally  bringing  into  the  conver- 
sation some  of  M.  Planc^on's  phrases,  and  by  adding 
bitterly,  "Yes,  Mr.  Plangon  will  soon  see  if  the  Japanese 
are  mad." 

On  January  30  the  order  to  mobilise  was  received 
in  Port  Arthur.  I  happened  to  be  in  the  naval  quarters 
at  the  time,  and  everybody  seemed  to  think  that  there 
wTas  no  longer  any  hope.  The  doctors  had  received 
orders  to  prepare  to  receive  wounded,  and  vast  quan- 
tities of  lint  and  bandages  were  on  their  way  from 
Europe. 


THE  GATHERING  CLOUDS  33 

I  now  watched  the  Russian  fleet  in  the  outer  har- 
bour with  the  same  attention  as  I  had  watched  it 
when  it  was  in  the  inner  harbour ;  but  on  looking 
for  it  one  morning — February  3 — I  found  it  had 
vanished. 

I  at  once  hurried  into  town,  where  they  told 
me  that  the  fleet  had  left  at  dawn  "with  sealed 
papers."  There  was  a  good  deal  of  excitement  at  this 
time  on  account  of  the  British  Mission  to  Thibet, 
and  it  rather  looked  as  if  a  universal  war  were 
brewing. 

The  excitement  was  considerably  allayed,  however, 
by  the  return  of  the  Russian  fleet  at  four  o'clock  on 
February  4,  but  was  fanned  again  by  the  report  that 
sixty  Japanese  vessels  were  off  Wei-hai-wei — a  report 
which  led  to  new  tirades  against  the  English. 

On  the  5th  many  Japanese  left  Port  Arthur,  and  we 
got  a  telegram  to  the  effect  that  the  Nisshin  and 
Kasuga  had  left  Singapore.  But,  hurrah !  Admiral 
Wirenius  has  left  Suez.  The  day  after  he  left  Suez 
Japan  broke  off  diplomatic  relations. 

There  had  been  so  many  false  alarms,  however,  that 
there  was  not  much  excitement  in  town.  Twenty 
Norwegian  steamers  full  of  coal  were  lying  in  the 
inner  harbour,  and  on  the  jetty  a  number  of  Chinese 
coolies,  under  the  direction  of  a  soldier,  were  working 
on  a  submarine  mine ! 

Before  this  time  there  had  come  overland  from 
Europe  a  large  number  of  bluejackets,  among  whom 
were  the  best  gunners  and  mechanicians  of  the  Baltic 
and  Black  Sea  squadrons.  I  wonder  what  kind  of 
a  showing  the  Russian  fleet  wouid  have  made  if  these 
men  had  not  come ! 


34  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

The  last  time  I  saw  the  Viceroy  before  war  broke 
out  was  early  in  February,  at  a  belated  celebration  of 
the  Russian  New  Year,  in  the  Realny  Uchilishtch6,  a 
fine  Russian  Government  school  in  New  Town.  It 
was  a  function  which  did  not  tend  to  give  any  of 
those  present  the  impression  that  the  city  would  be 
bombarded  in  a  few  days.  The  class-rooms  were 
richly  decorated  ;  there  was  a  band  in  attendance  ; 
there  were  plenty  of  refreshments ;  the  Viceroy  was 
surrounded  by  his  brilliant  staff ;  the  guests  were  nu- 
merous, and  there  was  a  surprisingly  large  number  of 
clean,  fair-haired  boys  and  girls,  who,  after  the  Rus- 
sian custom  on  such  occasions,  danced  sedately  to- 
gether for  hours.  Among  these  children  were  about  a 
score  of  fine  Chinese  lads,  whose  rich  silk  gowns  and 
caps  added  a  picturesque  foreign  touch  to  the  scene. 
Every  child  seemed  to  get  a  prize  of  some  kind, 
and,  at  the  end  of  the  distribution,  the  Viceroy  went 
around  among  the  children  cracking  jokes  with  them. 
After  talking  for  some  time  in  Russian  to  the  Chinese 
boys,  he  turned  to  the  Russian  boys  and  told  them 
that  they  should  be  ashamed  of  themselves  for  not 
being  able  to  talk  Chinese  as  well  as  these  Chinese 
talked  Russian. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Viceroy  was  very  keen  on 
the  subject  of  bringing  the  Chinese  and  the  Russians 
together ;  and  with  that  object  in  view  he  had,  a  few 
days  before,  induced  the  head  master  of  this  school  to 
engage  a  Chinese-speaking  Russian,  probably  the  only 
one  in  Port  Arthur,  to  teach  Chinese  to  as  many  of  the 
Russian  boys  as  cared  to  study  it. 

He  had  also  persuaded,  or  perhaps  ordered,  Colonel 
Artemieff,  the  proprietor  of  the  Novi  Krai,  to  make 


THE  GATHERING  CLOUDS  35 

arrangements  for  getting  out  a  Chinese  paper  at  the 
same  time  as  the  new  English  paper ;  and  a  very  in- 
telligent Chinese,  who  spoke  Russian  perfectly,  was 
engaged  in  advance  as  editor. 

While  visiting  English  steamers  which  touched  at 
Port  Arthur  I  discovered  about  this  time  that  nobody 
was  now  allowed  to  leave  or  enter  the  port  without 
a  special  permit  ;  and  that  Japanese  were  continually 
travelling  to  and  fro  between  Port  Arthur  and  Chefoo. 
To  put  a  stop  to  this  latter  practice,  a  military  officer 
was  told  off  to  visit  each  ship  before  it  left,  but  as  he 
had  a  number  of  whiskeys  and  soda  on  board  every 
vessel  he  visited,  he  was  not  always  able  at  the  end 
of  his  tour  to  distinguish  a  Japanese  from  a  ship's 
binnacle,  though  I  must  say  that  he  invariably  began 
with  the  best  intentions. 

One  or  two  Russian  deserters,  generally  German- 
speaking  Jews,  now  left  by  every  steamer,  generally 
bribing  the  Chinese  crew  to  conceal  them,  for  the 
English  captains  would  not  take  them  if  they  could 
not  show  their  passports.  It  reminded  me  of  rats 
deserting  a  sinking  ship,  although  in  this  case  the  rats 
were  deserting  "the  most  impregnable  of  all  first-class 
fortresses  "  for  the  unstable  sea  ;  and  the  event  proved 
their  wisdom.  Was  it  instinct  that  made  these 
intensely  ignorant  men  fly  from  the  doomed  fortress, 
or  had  some  sort  of  warning  been  circulated  among 
the  Jews  ? 

The  steamer  on  which  I  felt  most  at  home  was  the 
Columbia,  a  little  British  vessel  built  originally  for 
river  traffic  in  South  China,  but  at  this  time  running 
between  Chefoo  and  Port  Arthur. 

On  the  evening  of   February  6   I    was    sitting   in 


36  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

the  cosy  dining  saloon  of  this  vessel,  telling  Mr. 
Wright,  the  chief  officer,  how  I  had  to  go  some 
time  or  other  to  Chefoo  in  order  to  charter  a  steamer 
for  the  New  York  Herald.  That  day  I  had  tried  to 
charter  a  launch  from  Baron  Ginsberg,  the  great 
Jewish  capitalist,  whose  timber  concessions  on  the 
Yalu  had  been  the  last  straw  on  the  back  of  Japan's 
patience,  and  the  Baron  had  tried  to  sell  me  a  launch 
which  would  be  pretty  sure  to  sink  beneath  me  before 
it  had  got  half  way  across.  I  therefore  said  that  I 
had  better  go  to  Chefoo,  whereupon  Mr.  Wright  said, 
"  Why  not  come  with  us  to-night?  We're  sailing  at 
eleven,  and  there  are  no  other  passengers.  Besides, 
there's  no  quarantine  now,  so  that  you'll  have  no 
trouble  getting  back."  Finding  that  I  had  an  hour  to 
spare,  I  went  to  my  lodgings,  put  a  few  shirts  into  a 
little  carpet  -  bag,  and  bade  a  hasty  good-bye  to 
Captain  Yanchivetsky  and  his  wife,  telling  them  that  I 
would  be  back  on  the  morning  of  the  8th.  Little  did  I 
think  that  at  that  moment  diplomatic  relations  between 
Russia  and  Japan  had  been  severed,  that  Kurino  had 
left  St.  Petersburg,  and  that  Togo  had  left  Saseho. 

As  we  passed  through  the  fleet,  which  was  now 
anchored  in  the  outer  harbour,  the  officers  told 
me  how  annoyed  they  had  been  on  a  previous 
trip  by  the  searchlights  of  the  battle-ships  which 
almost  blinded  them,  and,  on  this  night,  a  searchlight 
shone  on  us  until  we  dipped  below  the  horizon. 
Wrapped  in  my  great-coat  I  watched  the  receding 
fleet,  until  the  lights  on  the  mast-head  of  the  Angora 
had  disappeared,  and  then,  being  almost  paralysed  by 
the  intense  cold,  which  instantly  froze  the  spray  that 
fell  at  our  feet,  I  went  down  to  my  cabin  or  rather  tc 


THE  GATHERING  CLOUDS  37 

the  captain's   cabin,  which  had  been  kindly  placed  at 
my  disposal,  and  got  into  bed. 

At  Chefoo  next  day  I  found  that  my  mission  was 
vain,  owing  to  the  impossible  terms  asked  by  the  ship- 
owners there.  Not  only  did  they  expect  me  to  pay 
exorbitant  charter-money,  but  they  insisted  that  if  the 
captain  saw  on  the  horizon  any  of  the  rival  fleets,  or 
even  specks  which  he  took  to  be  battle-ships,  he  was 
at  liberty  to  return  at  full  speed  to  Chefoo.  This  being 
the  case  I  went  back  to  Port  Arthur  the  same  evening 
by  the  Columbia.  Arriving  in  the  outer  harbour  on 
the  morning  of  the  8th,  I  was  delighted  to  see  that 
the  fleet  was  still  there  and  that  no  naval  action  had 
taken  place  in  my  absence. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA 

Before  I  had  left  Port  Arthur  on  board  the  Columbia 
I  had  ascertained  that  the  quarantine  on  vessels  coming 
from  Chefoo  had  been  raised,  so  that  my  disappoint- 
ment was  great  when,  on  my  return,  I  found  that  we 
had  to  go  into  quarantine  for  the  space  of  twenty-four 
hours.     To  be  thus  compelled  to  remain  inactive  on 
board  a  wretched  little  steamer  in  sight  of  Port  Arthur, 
where  great  events  were  likely  to  take  place  at  any 
moment,  almost  drove  me  mad.     We  had  been  told  to 
anchor  in  the  outer  roads,  nearly  opposite  the  entrance 
to  the  inner  harbour  and  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the 
Novik,  so  that  with  the  ship's  telescope  I  could  dis- 
tinctly see  the  people  passing  to  and  fro  in  the  town,  and 
the  "izvoshcheeks"  driving  about  at  their  usual  speed. 
I  suffered  the  tortures  of  Tantalus,  for  though  I  could 
see  Port  Arthur  I  could  not  get  any  news  of  what  was 
going  on  there.     Noticing  my  agitation,  the  Russian 
soldier  who  had  been  placed  on  board  as  a  guard, 
watched  me  carefully  ;  but  I  managed  to  elude  him  for 
a  moment,  and  to  throw  a  letter  into  a  Government 
launch  of  some  kind  that  was  passing  very  close  to  us 
on  its  way  from  some  of  the  battle-ships  to  the  shore. 
This  letter  I  had  addressed  in  Russian  to  an  intimate 
friend  of  mine  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  quarantine 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  39 

service,  and  who  would  at  once  have  brought  about  my 
release  if  he  had  known  that  I  was  on  board.  But  the 
only  result  of  this  attempt  was  that  the  launch  stopped 
for  a  moment  at  our  gangway  and  that  a  soldier  brought 
me  back  my  letter,  unopened,  and  then  remained  on 
board.  Thus  we  had  now  two  guards  patrolling  the 
deck  with  rifles  and  fixed  bayonets.  We  made  frantic 
attempts  to  get  the  Chinese  "  sampan  "  men,  who  were 
paddling  around,  to  come  close  enough  to  take  letters 
to  another  British  steamer  which  was  lying  a  short 
way  off,  also  in  quarantine  ;  but  our  guards  pointed 
their  rifles  at  these  Chinamen  and  refused  to  allow 
them  to  approach.  Captain  Anderson  was  determined, 
however,  to  communicate  with  his  brother  captain,  so 
he  got  the  Chinese  "  boys  "  on  board  the  vessel  to  coax 
the  two  Russians  below,  on  the  shallow  pretence  of 
giving  them  breakfast — "shallow,"  I  say,  for  breakfast 
time  had  long  passed — whereupon  he  managed  to 
throw  a  letter  and  a  few  coins,  contained  in  an  empty 
cigar-box,  to  an  enterprising ' '  sampan  "  man,  who  at  once 
conveyed  the  message  to  its  destination,  and  afterwards 
brought  back  a  note  saying  that  there  was  nothing 
new  except  that  the  Japanese  Consul  at  Chefoo  was  at 
that  moment  in  Port  Arthur,  his  mission  being  to  take 
away  all  the  Japanese  residents  of  that  port  in  a  British 
merchant  steamer  which  he  had  chartered  for  that 
purpose  at  Chefoo.  This  news  made  me  feel  still  more 
discontented  at  my  detention,  for  it  plainly  indicated 
that,  although  nothing  seemed  to  have  changed,  things 
must  really  have  taken  a  serious  turn.  As  a  matter 
of  history,  they  had  taken  a  serious  turn,  for  on  the 
previous  evening  Togo  had  left  the  Korean  coast  with  a 
fleet  of  fifty  ships,  and  sailed  towards  the  Elliott  Islands. 


40  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

I  remember  that  on  this  day  the  weather  was 
particularly  fine,  the  sun  shining  brightly,  and  the  air 
being  sufficiently  warm  to  admit  of  my  strolling  at 
intervals  along  the  deck  without  an  overcoat.  Some- 
times I  went  inside  and  worked  in  a  leisurely  manner 
at  a  newspaper  article,  in  which  I  clearly  demonstrated 
that,  even  if  war  did  come,  the  Japanese  would  never 
dare  to  attack  Port  Arthur.  This  article  I  need  not,  I 
suppose,  reproduce  here. 

Sometimes  I  watched  one  of  the  war  vessels  engaged 
in  target  practice,  the  target  being  a  miniature  man-o'- 
war  which  was  towed  by  a  steam  launch,  and,  although 
the  shooting  was  not  good,  it  was  not  quite  so  bad  as 
I  had  previously  been  led  to  believe.  At  mid-day  a 
band  played  magnificently  on  board  one  of  the  battle- 
ships. "What  a  pity,"  thought  I,  "if  a  nation  of 
musicians  like  that  should  ever  be  crushed  by  a  people 
who  have  no  music  in  their  souls ! " 

Of  course  I  again  and  again  scrutinised  closely, 
through  the  ship's  telescope,  the  imposing  array  of 
battle-ships  and  cruisers  by  which  I  was  surrounded. 
The  little  training-ship  Gilyak  afforded  us  some 
amusement  by  the  clumsy  attempts  of  the  boys  on 
board  to  furl  the  sails,  attempts  which  were  so  un- 
nautical  as  to  make  our  skipper  curse  dreadfully,  and 
further  to  sour  his  temper,  already  badly  affected  not 
so  much  by  the  quarantine  as  by  the  favouritism  shown 
to  a  steamer  belonging  to  a  rival  company.  This 
steamer  had  come  at  the  same  time  as  we,  but  owing 
to  the  fact  that  she  had  cattle  on  board,  no  quarantine 
was  imposed,  and  after  discharging  her  cargo  she 
left  the  same  evening.  Besides  the  cattle  she  had 
also  on  board  two  rival  correspondents  from  Chefoo, 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  41 

and  as  I  watched  them  going  into  the  inner  harbour 
and  afterwards  leaving  for  the  south  and  a  free  wire, 
no  doubt  with  a  big  budget  of  news  in  their  note-books, 
I  was  strongly  tempted  to  follow  Captain  Andersons 
example  and  use  profane  language. 

I  noticed  that  the  battle-ships  had  all  partially  cleared 
for  action  and,  in  some  cases,  sent  ashore  their  boats. 
But  as  the  day  wore  on  and  nothing  more  happened, 
we  gradually  ceased  thinking  of  what  these  ominous 
signs  portended,  and  confined  ourselves  to  wondering 
if  we  would  get  out  of  quarantine  next  morning  or  get 
an  additional  dose  of  twenty-four  hours. 

In  the  afternoon  the  tide  swung  us  so  close  to  the 
Novik  that  we  could  read  her  name,  in  Old  Slavonic 
letters,  on  the  bow.  Towards  dusk  the  three  torpedo- 
boats  that  had  been  in  the  habit  of  patrolling  outside 
the  fleet  every  night  swirled  past  us  with  a  great 
splashing  and  pounding,  leaving  a  stream  of  foam- 
flecked,  broken  water  in  their  wake. 

On  the  whole  there  was  a  good  deal  of  traffic  all  day 
between  the  fleet  and  the  shore,  steam-launches,  either 
hooded  naval  launches  or  open  launches  belonging 
to  trading  companies,  passing  continually  to  and  fro. 
Some  of  these  launches  carried  coal,  to  make  up  for 
that  burned  by  the  warships  during  the  day ;  one 
carried  some  ladies,  who  probably  went  to  dine  on 
board  one  of  the  vessels,  and  another  carried  a  ship's 
band  that  had  doubtless  been  performing  at  some 
function  ashore. 

Alongside  the  Novik  we  noticed  a  small  boat  with 
a  red  flag.  We  thought  at  first  that  this  boat  carried 
powder,  but  the  extraordinary  length  of  time  it  re- 
mained alongside  the  cruiser,  the  fact  that  no  powder 


42  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

seemed  to  be  passed  into  the  vessel,  and  the  move- 
ments of  the  men  in  the  boat,  led  us  to  conclude 
afterwards  that  below  the  boat  was  a  diver  who  was 
searching  for  some  leak  or  other  defect  in  the  Novik. 

At  this  moment  Togo  was  anchored  off  the  Elliott 
Islands,  only  sixty-five  miles  east  of  Port  Arthur.  The 
tragedy  was  deepening.  The  crouching  lion  was  about 
to  spring. 

I  watched  the  sun  disappear  that  evening.  It  was 
a  sea  sunset — orange  shot  with  red.  And  in  its  glory 
there  was  no  hint  of  tragedy. 

About  eight  o'clock,  just  after  we  had  finished 
dinner  on  board  the  Columbia,  a  sound  of  singing 
reached  our  ears,  and,  on  going  outside,  I  heard  the 
Russian  sailors  chanting  their  night  prayers,  which 
consist  of  the  "  Pater  Noster"  in  old  Russian,  the 
"  Ave  Maria,"  or  a  prayer  corresponding  to  that 
favourite  invocation  of  the  Latin  Church,  and  finally 
a  short  prayer  for  the  Tsar  and  two  stanzas  of  the 
Russian  National  Anthem,  saddest  and  most  melodious 
of  national  hymns,  brimful  of  the  music  and  the 
melancholy  of  the  Slav.  The  Russians  are  generally 
good  singers,  and  the  hymns  of  the  Greek  Church  have 
a  weird  and  unearthly  beauty,  which,  on  ordinary 
occasions,  is  very  impressive,  but  which  at  this  solemn 
moment  affected  me  as  I  have  never  been  affected  by 
the  most  sublime  oratorio. 

Softened  by  distance,  the  chants  from  the  adjoining 
vessels  rolled  solemnly  over  the  bay,  blending  together 
harmoniously,  and  it  was  difficult  indeed  to  believe 
that  this  music  was  produced  by  common  sailors. 
Even  the  singing  on  the  Novik,  which  vessel  was 
nearest  to  us,  sounded  singularly  soft  and  sweet,  while 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  43 

the  hymns  from  the  more  distant  battle-ships  were 
naught  but  a  faint  melodious  whisper.  Had  it  not  been 
for  the  unfathomable  sadness  of  the  melody,  we  might 
have  imagined  that  we  had  been  privileged  to  hear  the 
orbs  of  heaven  "  choiring  to  the  young-ey'd  cherubim." 

No  doubt  my  singular  position  there,  in  the  outer 
roads  of  Port  Arthur,  contributed  to  create  this  feeling. 
The  night  was  dark,  for  the  moon  was  in  her  last  quarter 
and  would  not  appear  before  daylight.  The  only 
seaward  lights  twinkled  on  board  the  widely  scattered 
battle-ships.  Against  the  black  sky  on  either  side 
stood  out  a  blacker  blotch  of  land,  land  that  looked 
dark  and  lonely  enough,  at  that  time  of  night,  to  be 
the  abode  of  lost  souls. 

Perhaps  the  spirits  of  dead  Japanese,  of  the  sons  of 
daimyo  and  ronin  and  samurai  who  have  perished  on 
these  bleak  hill-sides,  are  watching  there  till  their 
brethren  come  back.  Be  still,  O  restless  spirits  of 
the  mighty  dead  !  your  ten  years'  vigil  will  soon  be 
ended.  You  have  not  long  to  wait.  Behold !  the 
hour  of  your  deliverance  is  at  hand  !  Ere  midnight 
your  countrymen  will  be  in  the  outer  roads ! 

Behind  me,  the  great  black  bulk  of  Golden  Hill 
showed  more  clearly  against  the  sky,  and  a  few  of  the 
lights  in  the  town  were  clearly  visible,  the  rest  being 
cut  off  by  the  intervening  peninsula  of  Tiger's  Tail. 
The  glow  of  the  city,  faintly  reflected  in  the  sky 
overhead,  looked  as  hospitable  as  the  glow  of  a  house- 
hold fire,  but  my  present  banishment  from  that  familiar 
hearth  made  me  feel  like  an  outcast.  Moving  back- 
wards and  forwards  along  the  narrow  space  of  town 
which  our  position  commanded,  were  the  lights  of 
•'  izvoshcheeks." 


4*  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

When  the  singing  had  ceased,  a  sense  of  infinite 
sadness  came  over  me,  for  what  I  had  heard  was  not 
the  triumphal  crash  of  a  conqueror's  chorus,  it  sounded 
more  like  a  Litany  for  the  Dying.  And  such,  indeed, 
it  was.  It  was  a  Litany  for  a  great  Navy,  whose  long 
death-agony  was  to  begin  that  night,  for  an  historic 
flag  which  was  soon  to  pass  away  for  ever  from  the 
Pacific. 

And  all  this  time,  Togo's  relentless  destroyers  are 
coming  nearer.  THREE-QUARTER-SPEED ! 
On  his  conning-tower,  in  oilskins  and  sea-boots  stiff 
with  ice,  stands  the  lieutenant,  peering  into  the  gloom 
profound.  At  the  wheel  stands  the  coxswain,  silent 
and  dripping.  At  last  they  can  make  out  the  massive 
silhouette  of  Golden  Hill. 

In  the  sky  overhead  they  can  see  the  faint  reflection 
of  Port  Arthur  and  city.  At  a  distance  that  seems 
infinite,  our  lights  show  up  before  their  starboard 
beam.  SILENCE!  LIGHTS  OUT!  As  you 
value  your  lives,  no  flaming  from  the  funnels  !  Nearer 
still,  they  can  see  the  long,  ghostly  arms  of  our  search- 
lights groping  for  them  in  the  dark  like  the  arms  of 
some  silent,  blind,  gigantic  octopus.  The  white  wash 
boiling  away  astern  fills  them  with  apprehension.  The 
churning  of  the  screw,  the  rhythmic  throbbing  of  the 
engines,  sound  like  thunder  in  their  ears. 

I  then  returned  to  the  saloon  and  sat  down  to 
finish  the  newspaper  article  of  which  I  have  already 
spoken,  and  in  which  I  had  laid  it  down  as  a  funda- 
mental proposition  that  the  Japanese  would  never 
attack  Port  Arthur. 

What  increased  my  feeling  of  confidence,  though  it 
ought  not   to  have   done   so,    was  the  fact  that  the 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  45 

Russians  seemed  to  think  it  unnecessary  to  make  any- 
considerable  use  of  their  searchlights.  Previously 
they  used  to  annoy  the  officers  of  merchant  steamers 
by  the  way  in  which  they  blinded  them  with  their 
flashlights,  either  until  they  were  out  of  sight  on  the 
way  to  Chefoo  or  until  they  had  entered  the  inner 
harbour  of  Port  Arthur. 

On  leaving  Port  Arthur  for  Chefoo  the  previous 
Friday  I  had  seen  for  myself  that  a  light  was  kept 
flashing  on  us  till  we  were  out  of  sight ;  but  on  our 
return  we  were  not,  I  was  told,  subjected  to  such  a 
long-continued  scrutiny,  and  on  Monday  night  no 
light  had  been  flashed  on  us  at  all  up  to  the  time 
I  have  now  reached. 

When  it  was  nearly  half-past  eleven  a  feeling  of 
drowsiness,  partly  due  to  ennui,  partly  to  a  heavy 
supper,  came  over  me  ;  and,  as  everybody  else  save  the 
officer  on  watch  had  retired  for  the  night,  I  decided  to 
follow  their  example. 

The  Chinese  "  boy  "  who  had  sat  up  with  me  to  turn 
out  the  lights  was  asleep  on  a  chair,  and,  without 
waking  him,  I  passed  noiselessly  from  the  saloon  into 
the  outer  air,  for  my  cabin  was  an  outside  one. 

Before  entering  my  room  I  took  a  last  glance  at  the 
inky  shore.  A  profound  trance  seemed  to  hold  sea  and 
land.  A  sharp  northerly  wind  was  blowing  outside, 
but  here,  in  the  shelter  of  the  mountain,  there  was  not 
even  the  wash  of  a  wave.  Now  and  then  a  moving 
light  in  the  distant  town  showed  me  that  stray 
"  izvoshcheeks  "  were  still  passing  through  the  streets 
of  Port  Arthur,  but  otherwise  the  fortress-city  was 
dark  as  the  mouth  of  a  sepulchre. 

Far  out  at  sea  a  solitary  searchlight  on  the  Angora 


46  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

swung  lazily  backwards  and  forwards,  as  if  worked  by 
a  man  who  was  half  asleep. 

But  everybody  was  not  half  asleep  that  night. 
At  this  moment,  only  twelve  miles  off  the  land,  Togo's 
darkened  messengers  of  death  are  sweeping  round  as 
in  a  big  semicircle,  like  a  hawk  circling  above  its  prey 
before  making  the  ultimate,  downward  swoop.  They 
are  bracing  themselves  up  for  the  final  rush.  The 
lieutenant's  hand  is  on  the  "  telegraph  "  ready  to  jam  it 
down.  The  torpedo  gunners  stand  by,  ready  to  press 
the  fatal  button.  FULL-SPEED!  Dead  for  our 
betraying  lights  come  the  torpedo-boats  of  Togo. 

At  exactly  11.30  I  was  undressing  in  my  cabin 
when  I  heard  three  muffled  explosions,  which  made  the 
ship  rock,  and  which  were  followed  almost  immediately 
by  the  discharge  of  small  guns. 

The  transition  was  so  abrupt,  the  silence  of  the 
night  was  torn  so  rudely,  that  for  a  second  I  was 
startled,  and  the  wild  thought,  "  The  Japanese  are  on 
us  !  "  rushed  through  my  brain. 

O  brassy-throated  bugle  and  hoarse  words  of  com- 
mand, how  ye  stir  my  blood !  O  faint,  distant,  throb- 
bing drum,  almost  thou  persuadest  me  that  this  is  not 
mere  mimic  war ! 

But  in  another  instant  I  regained  myself  and 
laughed,  laughed  in  this  the  most  solemn  moment  of 
my  life,  because  from  amid  the  blankets  in  an  adjoin- 
ing room  I  heard  the  bitterly  ironical  voice  of  Captain 
Anderson  say,  "  War's  declared  !  " 

If  the  captain  had  cursed  the  Russians  for  half  an 
hour  for  disturbing  him  in  his  first  sleep  by  their 
practice-firing  he  could  not  have  conveyed  a  deeper 
impression  of  disgust. 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  47 

Once  I  had  got  over  my  first  start,  I  thought  it  a 
nuisance  myself  that  the  fleet  should  begin  practising 
at  such  an  unearthly  hour  of  the  night,  especially  as 
the  air  was  now  so  cold  for  sight-seers  ;  but,  as  I  could 
not  afford  to  miss  even  a  merely  spectacular  display,  I 
hastily  pulled  on  my  boots  and  overcoat  and  went  on 
deck.     There  I  saw  an  extraordinary  sight. 

A  transformation  had  come  over  the  scene,  like  that 
which  takes  place  in  a  darkened  theatre  when  the 
curtain  is  lifted  ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  though  then 
I  knew  it  not,  the  vast  curtain  of  night  had  risen  on 
one  of  the  mightiest  dramas  that  the  world  has  seen 
since  Troy  town  fell.  It  was  a  tragedy  to  whose 
gloomy  grandeur  only  ^Eschylus  could  do  justice. 
All  the  Russian  vessels  were  now  using  their  search- 
lights, so  that  the  sea  around  them  shone  like  a  sheet 
of  silver,  and  the  air  was  traversed  by  long,  oscillating, 
windmill  arms  of  light,  resembling  gigantic  shafts  of 
sunshine  shining  through  a  chink  in  the  shutter  of  a 
darkened  room.  One  or  two  searchlights  carefully 
swept  the  beach  backwards  and  forwards,  and  espe- 
cially the  entrance  to  the  inner  harbour.  Several 
searched  again  and  again  every  cranny  of  the 
mountains  and  the  rocky  shore.  One  blazing  eye 
glared  at  the  Columbia  for  fully  five  minutes,  making 
us  all  feel  slightly  uncomfortable,  as  if  a  policeman's 
bull's-eye  had  been  suddenly  flashed  in  our  faces. 
Strong,  however,  in  the  conviction  of  innocence,  the 
little  group  on  deck  bore  that  blinding  stare  unflinch- 
ingly, making  at  the  same  time  sundry  uncomplimentary 
remarks  about  the  owner  of  that  particular  search 
light.  We  might  not  have  stood  the  ordeal  quite  so 
well  if  we  had  known  what  was  happening,  and  how 


48  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

many  times  during  the  next  few  days  panic-stricken 
Russian  officers  would  fire  on  harmless  British 
merchantmen. 

Meanwhile  we  did  not  hear  the  faintest  swish  of  a 
distant  torpedo-boat :  there  was  absolutely  nothing  to 
suggest  that  the  Japanese  were  prowling  about,  and 
not  one  of  us  ventured  to  entertain  such  an  extravagant 
idea.  It  would  have  been  hysterical,  un-English  to 
do  so.  A  humorous,  scoffing  scepticism  was  the 
correct  attitude.  On  the  China  coast  it  is  bad  form  to 
take  anything  seriously. 

We  did  not  realise  that,  having  done  their  deadly 
work,  the  Japanese  destroyers  were  now  rushing  sea- 
wards at  thirty  knots,  with  Russian  shot  ploughing  up 
the  water  all  around  them. 

Dazzling  bright  lights  now  signalled  like  ejaculations 
on  the  mast-heads  of  the  Russian  ships — dash  !  dot ! 
dash  !  dot !  dash  ! — and  I  looked  on  vaguely  interested, 
not  realising  in  the  least  the  nature  of  the  thrilling 
drama  that  was  now  being  played  before  me. 

I  noticed  that  some  searchlights  were  directed 
upwards  at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees,  and 
did  not  seem  to  be  brought  into  requisition  at  all.  I 
also  noticed  that  the  lighthouse  lamp  burned  brightly, 
and  that  the  guiding  lights  at  the  entrance  of  the 
harbour  had  not  been  extinguished. 

Some  war-ships  were,  however,  in  complete  darkness, 
and  if  I  did  not  know  that  it  was  all  make-believe  I 
should  have  considered  their  appearance  as  awe- 
inspiring.  They  had  ceased  to  be  ships  and  become 
dreadful  black  blotches  on  the  water,  still  as  death,  but 
liable  to  burst  at  any  moment  into  manifestations  of 
hellish  energy. 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  49 

Meanwhile  the  firing  of  light  guns — six-pounders,  I 
should  say — continued  every  two  or  three  minutes,  but 
the  noise  was  nothing  to  what  I  had  heard  on  other 
occasions  of  practice-firing  and  the  like,  and  I  began  to 
feel  that  the  sight  was  not  worth  the  inconvenience  it 
caused  me.  I  therefore  returned  to  the  saloon,  where 
the  captain  asked  me  and  the  mate  to  join  him  in  a 
whiskey  and  soda  he  was  having. 

"  Let's  drink  to  the  war  just  begun,"  quoth  the 
captain  in  his  most  ironical  tone,  and,  laughing  at  the 
skipper's  sally,  we  all  clinked  glasses  and  drank  to 
"  the  war  just  begun." 

"  Well,  they're  in  desperate  earnest  to-night,  any- 
how," remarked  the  mate  in  a  serious  voice  as  he  turned 
to  go.  "  You  must  have  noticed  that  these  first  three 
explosions  were  submarine.  Didn't  you  remark  how 
the  boat  trembled  ?  Quite  a  different  thing,  a  sub- 
marine explosion,  to  an  explosion  that  takes  place 
above  water." 

4<  Yes,"  said  the  skipper,  "they  were  submarine  ex- 
plosions right  enough,  those  first  three.  Should  say 
that  one  of  their  mines  exploded." 

The  excitement  of  the  Chinese  crew  caused  us 
great  amusement,  and  when  the  skipper  discovered 
that  one  of  them  had  lighted  the  compass  and  engine- 
room  telegraphs — which  are,  of  course,  only  lighted 
when  a  vessel  is  going  to  sea — and  had  taken  up  his 
position  at  the  wheel  as  if  we  were  going  off  im- 
mediately, he  and  the  ship's  officers  laughed  loudly. 

I  also  laughed  myself  when  the  joke  was  explained 
to  me,  and  on  going  forward  and  seeing  the  lamp  that 
showed  the  compass  throwing  its  pale  light  on  the 
frightened  face  of  the  Chinaman  who  had  perpetrated 


5o  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

the  joke,  I  laughed  again.  I  also  felt  quite  pleased 
with  myself  for  knowing  so  much  more  than  this 
ignorant  Celestial,  and  tried  hard  to  persuade  our  two 
Russian  guards  that  war  had  been  declared.  But, 
although  also  somewhat  excited,  they  were  too 
cunning  for  me. 

"  No,  it's  only  practice,"  they  said  gruffly. 

At  twelve  o'clock  the  firing  slackened,  and  I  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  I  had  had  enough  amusement 
for  one  night.  I  told  the  captain  so  as  I  gaily  bade 
him  good-night,  adding  that,  although  I  had  not  been 
able  to  do  anything  in  Chefoo,  I  was  getting  value  for 
my  money  now.  Just  as  I  was  falling  asleep,  I  heard 
the  firing  recommence,  and  I  noticed  that  somewhat 
heavier  guns  were  now  being  fired.  I  also  heard  the 
whizz  of  shells,  but  even  that  failed  to  make  me  get  up 
again,  and  I  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just  until  about  5.30 
next  morning,  when  the  mate  roused  me  to  say  that  a 
Russian  officer  had  come  aboard  and  wanted  to  say 
something,  but  could  not  manage  to  make  himself 
understood,  as  he  only  spoke  Russian,  a  language 
with  which  the  mate  was  not  acquainted. 

Without  stopping  to  take  breath,  our  chief  officer 
went  on  to  tell  me  that  two  big  battle-ships  had  taken 
up  their  position  right  opposite  the  entrance  to  the 
harbour. 

"  A  most  extraordinary  thing  !  "  he  added.  "  They 
must  really  have  got  a  scare  last  night  after  all.  The 
firing  ceased,  by  the  way,  at  about  three  this  morning. 
These  two  battle-ships  I  speak  of  came  abreast  of  the 
entrance  at  one  o'clock.  At  about  half-past  one  a 
number  of  young  naval  officers  came  aboard  of  us, 
evidently  very  flurried  about  something,  and  one  of 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  51 

them  tried  to  talk  to  me  in  French,  but  as  he  always 
relapsed  in  his  excitement  into  his  mother  tongue,  I 
could  not  make  head  or  tail  of  what  he  said.  Why 
didn't  I  wake  you  up  then?  Oh  !  Well,  you  see  I  didn't 
want  to  disturb  you  at  such  an  hour.     It  can't  be  a 

very  important  matter,  anyhow.     Some  d d  red 

tape  or  other.  Usual  thing  with  the  Russians.  No,  I 
couldn't  for  the  life  of  me  make  out  what  that  fellow 
wanted.  He  got  so  muddled  that  he  simply  danced 
round  the  deck  in  pure  madness,  and  finally  went  away, 
leaving  behind  him  a  fine  rope  with  which  he  had 
made  his  boat  fast  to  our  gangway." 

All  this  time  I  was  trying  to  find  the  matches  in 
order  to  strike  a  light,  but  before  I  had  found  them 
the  Russian  officer  came  to  the  open  door,  and  as  he 
took  off  his  cap  I  saw  by  the  reflection  from  the 
searchlights  that  his  temples  were  glistening  with 
great  beads  of  perspiration. 

He  was  polite,  but  seemed  very  excited.  I  asked 
him  if  he  could  speak  German,  and  he  answered  in 
that  language  that  he  could,  and  then  went  on  to  speak 
to  me  in  Russian.      His  words  were  : 

"  His  Excellency  the  Viceroy  has  issued  a  decree 
ordering  that  no  commercial  ships  leave  or  enter  the 
harbour  of  Port  Arthur." 

In  other  words,  the  Columbia  was  not  to  attempt 
to  enter  the  inner  harbour  or  to  go  away  to 
Chefoo. 

After  having  twice  repeated  his  warning  and  apolo- 
gised for  disturbing  me,  the  naval  officer  turned 
abruptly  and  disappeared.  I  never  thought  of  asking 
him  if  anything  had  happened  during  the  night,  and 
I  dare  say  he  took  it  for  granted  that  we  knew,  and  put 


52  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

our  extreme  calmness  down  to  the  fact  that  we  were 
English. 

I  cannot  say  that  I  was  in  the  least  disturbed  by 
this  visit,  for  I  saw  nothing  unusual  in  an  order 
evidently  issued  with  the  object  of  keeping  merchant 
steamers  from  getting  into  the  way  of  the  war-ships 
while  the  latter  were  engaged  in  manoeuvres.  What 
most  disturbed  me  at  that  particular  moment  was — the 
cold. 

I  felt  it  in  my  bones  as  I  stood  there  in  my  pyjamas, 
and  the  plan  of  campaign  which  I  rapidly  drew  up  and 
swiftly  executed  was  to  get  under  the  blankets  again 
as  soon  as  possible.  Having  done  so,  the  idea 
occurred  to  me  that  it  might  not  be  so  abnormally 
early  as  it  seemed,  so  I  lit  the  candle  and  looked  at 
my  watch.  It  was  about  twenty  minutes  to  six,  so  I 
got  up  again,  put  on  some  of  the  more  necessary 
articles  of  dress,  and  went  out  on  the  deck. 

There  was  now  no  firing,  but  the  searchlights  of  the 
vessels  were  as  busy  as  they  had  been  when  I  had  gone 
to  bed  the  night  before.  The  position  of  some  of  the 
battle-ships  had  changed,  and,  true  enough,  as  the  chief 
officer  had  already  informed  me,  there  were  two  big 
men-of-war  lying  close  to  the  mouth  of  the  harbour, 
with  all  their  lights  burning  and  their  flashlights  play- 
ing around  them. 

The  lighthouse  lamp  had  gone  out,  though  it  was 
still  dark,  but  the  guiding  lights  burned  brightly. 

"  I  cannot  for  the  life  of  me  understand,"  said  the 
mate  for  the  twentieth  time  that  morning,  "  what  they 
mean  by  placing  these  war-ships  in  such  a  position. 
Most  extraordinary  position,  isn't  it?  Sure  enough 
they  must  have  got  a  bad  scare  last  night." 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  53 

Then  we  tried  to  warm  ourselves  by  walking  up  and 
down  the  deck.  The  moon  was  now  shining.  There 
was  a  light  southerly  breeze,  and  a  whitish  mist  lay  on 
the  horizon.  The  peacefulness  of  nature  was  in  strong 
contrast  to  the  agitation  of  man.  It  was  long  after 
day  had  dawned  before  the  Russian  vessels  ceased 
using  their  searchlights,  and  by  that  time  the  practised 
eye  of  one  of  the  officers  of  the  Columbia  had  detected 
something  unnatural  in  the  position  of  the  two  war- 
ships lying  at  the  harbour  mouth.  He  was  not  very 
long  in  coming  to  a  conclusion. 

"  They've  had  a  collision  or  met  with  some  acci- 
dent," he  said  emphatically,  "  there  can  be  no  doubt 
about  that.  See  the  list  that  big  one  has  got  ?  Why, 
her  name-plate  is  nearly  touching  the  water.  And  the 
other  has  a  list  aft.  Besides,  they're  both  aground. 
There  cannot  be  more  than  seventeen  feet  of  water 
there." 

"  By  Heaven ! "  he  added,  slapping  his  thigh  in 
sudden  excitement,  "one  of  these  Chinese  boys  told  me 
just  now  'two  piecee  ship  strike  together  in  night  time/ 
and,  dammit !  you  see  he's  perfectly  right  after  all. 
There  must  have  been  a  collision.  But  how  the 
deuce  did  he  know  it  ?  And  what  do  they  all  mean, 
I  wonder,  by  flying  their  flags  at  the  mast-head  ? 
Can  that  be  the  Retvizan,  one  of  the  finest  battle-ships 
afloat  ?    I'll  go  in  and  get  my  Brassey." 

It  took  us  some  considerable  time  to  realise  that 
two  of  Russia's  best  and  biggest  battle-ships  lay  help- 
less almost  within  a  stone's  throw  of  us.  Then  we 
all  asked  simultaneously  :  "What  will  the  Japanese 
do  when  they  hear  of  this?"  And  the  answer  each  of 
us  gave  was  that  Japan  would  declare   war  at  once. 


54  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

By-and-by  somebody  suggested  that  perhaps  the  vessels 
had  been  torpedoed  or  had  run  on  submarine  mines, 
but  that  view  was  considered  too  far-fetched,  and  the 
general  opinion  was  that  there  had  been  a  collision. 

I,  for  one,  was  so  convinced  that  this  was  the  only 
rational  explanation  that  I  wrote  out  a  telegram  to  be 
despatched  to  the  New  York  Herald  from  Chefoo, 
and  gave  it  to  the  mate  with  instructions  to  send  it 
off  on  his  return  to  Chefoo  by  the  Columbia  in  case  I 
did  not  see  him  previously. 

I  did  this  because  I  felt  sure  that  the  tug  would 
come  along  for  us  in  a  few  moments  and  that  I  would 
have  "  tiffin  "  that  day  in  Port  Arthur. 

After  having  made  arrangements  for  the  despatch 
of  this  telegram  I  came  on  deck  again  and  found  that 
the  excitement  of  the  ship's  officers  about  the  torpedoed 
vessels  had  only  increased.  It  was  generally  recognised 
that  the  Russians  would  do  all  they  could  to  keep  the 
news  back  for  some  time,  even  if  they  had  to  cut  all 
communication  between  Chefoo  and  Port  Arthur  and 
to  administer  repeated  doses  of  quarantine  to  the 
Columbia  and  other  British  ships  in  harbour. 

"  In  that  case,"  quoth  the  skipper,  dryly,  "  Old 
England  may  have  some  little  suggestions  to  offer." 

"  But  the  Japanese  who  are  left  in  Port  Arthur  will 
soon  find  out  about  it,"  said  the  mate,  "and  no  power 
on  earth  will  prevent  them  from  carrying  the  news  to 
Japan.  They'd  walk  all  the  way  to  Corea,  they'd  go 
to  sea  in  a  *  sampan.'  Japan  is  bound  to  know  of  this 
in  a  few  days." 

"And  as  soon  as  she  knows  of  it,  she'll  strike," 
remarked  the  second  officer  ;  "  the  two  fleets  are  now 
on  an  equality  as  regards  battle-ships,  and  the  Japanese 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  55 

are  not  likely  to  give  Russia  time  to  repair  these 
two." 

This  was  the  tone  of  our  conversation  as  we  rapidly 
walked  the  deck  in  the  faint,  grey,  chilly  dawn  of  that 
bleak  winter  morning.  We  could  never  get  away 
from  the  one  point,  and  we  were  so  overwhelmed  by 
the  magnitude  of  the  disaster  that  we  could  only  con- 
verse about  it  in  monosyllables.  These  monosyllables 
generally  constituted  abrupt  and  sometimes  profane 
exclamations  expressive  of  the  gigantic  nature  of  the 
misfortune  that  had  overtaken  the  Russian  fleet,  of 
the  great  chance  the  Japanese  had  got,  of  the  certainty 
of  war. 

Never  was  there  such  unanimity  of  opinion  onboard 
a  ship.  It  was  so  perfect  that  nobody  listened  to 
anybody  else.  Each  jerked  out  explanations  abso- 
lutely identical  with  those  jerked  out  by  his  neighbour, 
and  then,  after  brooding  over  his  own  remark  for  a 
few  moments  in  silence  and  taking  yet  another  long 
searching  look  at  the  disabled  men-o'-war,  repeated 
the  same  remark  in  another  form.  It  did  not  seem  to 
strike  any  of  us  at  the  time  that  this  was  an  absurd 
form  of  conversation.  Sometimes  this  monologue 
was  varied  by  a  new  discovery. 

14  There  goes  a  boat-load  of  wounded  !  "  shouted 
the  mate  once.  "  That  must  have  been  a  bad 
collision." 

While  the  searchlights  were  still  flashing  on  the 
face  of  the  waters,  and  the  dawn  was  still  a  sickly, 
pallid  light  in  the  east,  fourteen  Russian  torpedo-boats 
splashed  tumultuously  past  us  on  their  way  out.  By 
the  flashlights  I  could  see  the  gloomy  countenances  of 
their  commanders  as  they  stood  on  the  bridge  wrapt 


56  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

in  their  great-coats,  and  I  noticed  that  some  of  them 
levelled  their  glasses  at  us  and  inspected  us  carefully, 
as  if  they  were  not  sure  but  that  we  might  be  a 
Japanese  war- vessel. 

"On  what  mysterious  mission  have  they  gone?" 
I  asked  myself,  musingly,  when  they  first  dwindled 
into  black  specks  on  the  water  and  then  vanished  in 
the  misty  portals  of  the  dawn. 

When  the  light  had  become  stronger  we  noticed 
other  things.  We  noticed  that  a  large  number  of 
cables  or  chains  connected  the  Tsarevitch  with  the 
adjacent  shore,  and  that  steam  launches,  tug-boats 
and  lighters,  filled  with  Chinese  coolies,  were  fussing 
around  her  like  courtiers  around  a  wounded  monarch. 

We  could  also  see  that  the  forts  had  been  manned 
during  the  night — rather  a  strange  thing  we  thought. 
In  some  places  where  there  were  galleries,  long  lines 
of  men  were  visible,  and  the  heads  of  others  peeping 
over  the  breastworks  showed  that  the  fortress  artillery- 
men must  have  been  at  their  posts  all  night. 

On  the  highest  point  of  Golden  Hill  Fort  stood  a 
large  group  of  men,  evidently  high  officers,  all  scan- 
ning the  horizon  with  glasses.  That  group  stood  there 
throughout  all  the  anxious  hours  that  followed,  in  fact 
as  long  as  the  Columbia  remained  in  Port  Arthur. 
One  of  the  group — a  stout  man  standing  a  few  paces 
in  advance  of  the  others,  and  never  once  taking  his 
binoculars  from  his  eyes,  or  turning  round  to  say  a 
word  to  his  companions — resembled  the  Viceroy  in 
the  general  contour  of  his  figure,  but  on  account  of  the 
distance  I  could  not  say  for  certain  that  it  was 
Alexeieff.  I  afterwards  found,  however,  that  one  ot 
the  Japanese  passengers  on  the  Columbia  had  arrived 


ON  BOARD  THE    COLUMBIA  57 

independently   at    the    conclusion    that    it   was    the 
Viceroy. 

By-and-by  the  sun  rose,  and,  owing  to  the  light 
mist  that  lay  upon  the  water,  it  was  very  round  and 
red,  looking  for  all  the  world  like  a  red-hot  cannon- 
ball. 

"That's  an  ominous  sign,"  I  remarked,  with  a  super- 
stitious shiver,  for  that  rising  sun  recalled  at  once  to 
my  memory  the  flag  of  Japan. 

In  the  rays  of  this  sinister  orb  the  windows  of  the 
houses  in  Port  Arthur  became  red  as  blood.  Against 
the  ensanguined  sun  itself  stood  out  the  hulls  and  the 
masts  of  three  vessels,  apparently  cruisers,  lying 
motionless,  about  five  miles  off.  These  could  not 
be  Russians  !  What  on  earth  were  they  ?  The  ship's 
telescope  soon  conveyed  to  me  the  astounding  infor- 
mation that  they  flew  the  flag  of  the  Rising  Sun. 
They  were,  in  fact,  the  swift  cruisers,  Yoshino,  Taka- 
sago  and  Chitose,  and  they  were  calmly  lying  there, 
trying  to  find  out  through  their  glasses  the  exact 
amount  of  damage  that  the  torpedo-boats  had  done. 

I  shall  not  try  to  describe  my  sensations  when  I 
first  saw  the  Japanese  so  close.  I  could  not  if  I  tried. 
I  was  thunderstruck.  A  tremendous  electric  shock 
seemed  to  go  through  me.  I  dropped  the  telescope. 
My  breath  left  me.  The  deck  sank  beneath  my  feet. 
I  was  as  one  alone  in  interplanetary  space,  receiving 
an  appalling  supernatural  revelation. 

Millions  of  thoughts  shot  through  my  head  every 
second.  The  first  one  was,  of  course,  "It  is  war!" 
The  second  was,  "  Japanese  torpedo-boats  were  in 
amongst  us  last  night,  and  damaged  these  two  battle- 
ships." 


58  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

After  pinching  myself  and  smiting  my  head,  and 
rushing  a  couple  of  times  up  and  down  the  deck  to 
make  sure  I  was  awake  and  sane,  I  turned  to  have 
another  look  at  the  torpedoed  vessels,  and  noticed  how 
the  men  were  gathered  together  with  white,  scared 
faces  on  the  deck.  There  seemed  for  the  moment  to 
be  no  captain,  no  officers,  no  order.  The  sailors  were 
no  longer  important  parts  of  a  formidable  fighting 
machine  :  they  were  a  mob — a  silent,  scared  mob — 
looking  with  terror  towards  the  abyss  from  which  the 
monsters  of  the  night  had  emerged. 

Some  of  them,  it  is  true,  still  seemed  to  go  about 
their  duties  in  a  mechanical  manner,  and  I  particularly 
remember  seeing  one  man  throw  water  over  the 
side. 

Finding  that  the  captain  had  been  shouting  at  me 
for  the  last  five  minutes,  I  entered  into  conversation 
with  him.  We  agreed  that  these  Japanese  vessels 
could  not  be  supported  by  the  Japanese  fleet.  They 
were  simply  a  few  prowlers  that  had  come  with  the 
torpedo-boats  to  do  as  much  damage  as  they  could 
and  then  rush  off  again.  The  Russians  would  be  out 
after  them  directly.  In  true  Anglo-Saxon  style  we 
minimised  the  miracle  that  had  happened.  We  also 
left  it  to  be  inferred  from  our  remarks  that  we  had 
suspected  all  along  that  something  like  this  was  bound 
to  occur. 

No  satisfaction  was  expressed  by  anybody  on  board 
the  Columbia  at  the  terrible  blow  the  Russian  Navy 
had  received.  There  was  something  so  pathetic  in 
the  helplessness  and  in  the  unnatural  position  of  these 
tremendous  engines  of  war,  which  had  been  so  sud- 
denly disabled,  that  we  all  remained  looking  on  sadly, 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  59 

in  silence.  It  was  like  being  an  eye-witness  of  the 
downfall  of  Napoleon. 

A  Danish  pilot  employed  by  the  Port  Arthur 
Harbour  Board  now  swirled  past  us  in  a  launch.  We 
asked  him  if  the  two  battle-ships  at  the  harbour  mouth 
had  been  torpedoed. 

"  Three  have  been  torpedoed,"  he  shouted  back; 
"  there's  the  third  on  your  right,  the  Pallada." 

And,  sure  enough,  we  had  been  commenting  pre- 
viously on  the  suspicious  list  to  port  which  that  big 
cruiser  had,  and  on  her  awkward  appearance,  which 
made  her  look  as  if  she  were  aground.  Everybody 
had  had  his  doubts  about  her,  but  nobody  had  dared 
to  express  them.  The  English  hatred  of  exaggeration 
had  prevented  him. 

Before  he  was  out  of  earshot  the  pilot  had  bawled 
to  us  to  clear  out  at  once,  as  the  whole  Japanese  fleet 
was  coming  up,  and,  if  we  did  not  move  immediately, 
we  should  find  ourselves  right  in  the  line  of  fire. 

The  captain  bellowed  back  that  we  had  been  told 
not  to  leave  the  port,  and  that  any  attempt  to  move 
might  draw  on  us  the  fire  of  the  forts,  but  by  this 
time  the  pilot-boat  was  churning  up  the  sea  three 
miles  away. 

Meanwhile  the  Japanese  cruisers  had  made  a  very 
long,  leisurely  survey  of  the  Russians,  and  had  then 
gone  away  slowly,  whereupon  the  whole  Russian  fleet 
weighed  anchor  and  started  in  pursuit.  It  is  a  singular 
instance  of  the  effect  of  habit  that,  on  weighing 
anchor,  the  Russian  sailors  very  carefully  cleared  all 
seaweed,  sand,  etc.,  from  the  anchor  chain,  as  if  they 
could  not  have  postponed  that  operation  to  a  more 
convenient  time. 


6o  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 


Before  steaming  out,  the  Russian  ships  hastily 
threw  overboard  bedding  and  furniture,  which  were 
at  once  seized  upon  by  eager  Chinese  "  sampan  "  men. 
I  noticed  one  man  paddling  ashore  with  something 
that  looked  like  a  ping-pong  table,  and  several  went 
very  far  out  in  their  quest  for  booty. 

These  amphibious  beings  seemed  to  be  the  only 
people  who  were  not  thunderstruck  by  the  appearance 
of  the  Japanese.  To  them  it  was  simply  "  Yeebin 
whalai"  (The  Japanese  have  come  back),  just  as  if 
ten  long  years  had  not  elapsed  since  the  Three  Nations 
had  made  them  haul  down  their  flag  from  Golden 
Hill. 

These  Chinese  boatmen  all  disappeared  very 
quickly,  however,  when  the  shells  began  to  fall.  But 
no  shells  fell  just  then,  for  the  Japanese  cruisers  had 
gone  away,  with  the  Russians  after  them.  This  was 
at  about  nine  o'clock. 

Admiral  Togo  probably  wanted  to  lure  the  enemy 
outside  and  to  fight  them  in  the  open  ;  but  he  did  not 
succeed,  for,  on  sighting  the  Japanese  fleet,  the 
Russians  all  returned  to  the  harbour. 

The  attention  of  those  on  board  the  Columbia  was 
temporarily  withdrawn  from  these  great  events  by  the 
appearance  of  a  naval  doctor,  who  declared  the  quar- 
antine at  an  end,  but  could  give  us  no  information 
as  to  whether  we  could  leave  or  not.  He  said  he 
would  go  ashore  and  inquire. 

The  Russian  fleet  returned  at  about  ten  o'clock,  and, 
immediately  after,  there  took  place  a  flagrantly  impos- 
sible event.  Sixteen  Japanese  war-vessels,  six  of  them 
clearly  battle-ships,  appeared  in  a  long  dark-grey  line 
on  the  horizon.     They  appeared  so  suddenly  that  they 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  61 

seemed  to  have  risen  from  the  sea,  or  to  have  material- 
ised from  the  mists  of  the  morning.  They  were  only 
five  miles  off,  and  at  the  mast-head  of  every  one  of 
them  a  Japanese  naval  flag  shouted  defiance.  I  felt 
that  I  was  present  at  the  inception  of  an  historical 
event  not  less  momentous  than  the  fall  of  Constanti- 
nople. For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  world 
the  pagan  war-flag  of  the  Sun  Goddess  was  opposed 
in  field  of  battle  to  the  banner  of  the  Cross. 

I  could  not  take  my  eyes  off  these  menacing  war- 
ships. They  were  not  unfamiliar  objects.  I  had  lived 
under  that  flag  myself.  I  had  seen  those  battle-ships  at 
Hakodate,  Nagasaki,  Ujina,  Kobe.  In  the  lovely  In- 
land Sea  they  had  seemed  to  me  to  be  merely  masses 
of  ugly  machinery,  desecrating  the  landscape.  Here, 
off  the  bleak,  fortified  headlands  of  Port  Arthur,  they 
harmonised  perfectly  with  the  sternness  of  nature. 
Evidently  they  had  not  been  built  for  Miyajima  or 
Shikoku.  These  floating  fortresses  had  been  built  for 
Port  Arthur  Bay. 

Things  now  looked  desperate  for  us  on  board  the 
Columbia,  and  our  captain  took  down  the  quarantine 
flag  and  ran  up  the  signal,  "  Will  you  give  me  permis- 
sion to  leave  ?  " 

The  Russian  soldiers  we  had  with  us  got  a  little 
excited  when  they  saw  the  quarantine  flag  taken  down, 
and  asked  for  an  explanation  ;  and  the  skipper,  who 
was  fast  losing  control  of  his  temper,  wanted  to  throw 
them  overboard,  rifles  and  all,  but  I  restrained  him  and 
tried  to  pacify  them  as  best  I  could.  I  also  tried  to 
distract  their  attention  by  pointing  out  to  them  the 
Japanese  vessels  on  the  horizon.  They  laughed  at  my 
simplicity,  and  said  that  these  were  Russian  vessels. 


62  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

No  answer  was  signalled  to  the  Columbia,  but  after 
a  while  a  naval  officer  came  aboard  and  requested  us 
to  "  move."  The  captain  furiously  demanded  if  he 
might  "  move  to  Chefoo,"  but  in  a  menacing  tone  the 
officer  said  no,  he  had  better  not  attempt  to  leave  Port 
Arthur  until  permission  had  been  signalled  to  him  from 
the  shore.  He  might,  however,  have  the  kindness  to 
move  just  a  little  out  of  the  way,  as  a  cruiser  wanted 
to  take  up  its  position  in  the  place  the  Columbia 
occupied.  Then,  after  saying  something  in  a  low  tone 
to  the  soldiers,  the  naval  officer  left  the  ship. 

At  this  unpropitious  moment,  there  approached  us  a 
"sampan"  in  the  bows  of  which  stood  a  gentleman  whose 
putties,  Norfolk  jacket  and  bored  sang  froid  all  pro- 
claimed him  English.  He  informed  the  captain  that  he 
was  a  British  military  officer  and  would  like  to  be  taken 
to  Chefoo  ;  but  the  captain  was  in  such  a  rage  at  his 
signals  not  being  answered  and  at  the  mess  he  had  got 
into  generally,  that  he  acted  as  Hotspur  once  did  under 
similarcircumstances,  and  not  only  refused  to  entertain 
the  proposition  but  told  his  countryman,  in  the  most 
violent  language  at  his  command,  to  begone  instantly. 
The  other  looked  for  a  moment  as  if  he  would  come 
on  board  in  spite  of  us,  but  at  this  juncture  our  Russian 
soldiers  resumed  their  old  trick  of  pointing  their  rifles 
at  the  "  sampan  "  man,  who  thereupon  retreated  with 
great  rapidity. 

I  must  frankly  say  that  I  was  glad  this  English  officer 
did  not  get  on  board,  for,  if  he  had,  I  would  never 
have  made  the  journalistic  "  scoop  "  I  did  ;  but  at  the 
same  time  it  is  a  pity,  from  a  general  point  of  view, 
that  he  was  unable  to  accompany  us,  as,  owing  to  his 
superior  technical  knowledge,  he  would  doubtless  have 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  63 

made  the   most  of  the  splendid  opportunity  we  had 
of  seeing  the  battle. 

While  the  captain  was  giving  orders  to  get  under 
way,  a  sudden  wild  idea  that  it  was  all  a  mistake,  a 
regrettable  misunderstanding,  flashed  across  my  mind. 
"Let  us  be  reasonable,"  I  said  to  myself,  "the  whole 
thing  is  too  dramatic  to  be  true.  Lurid  events  like 
this  don't  happen  in  these  prosaic  days.  To-morrow 
we'll  all  be  laughing  about  this  scare,  in  the  '  Saratoff.' 
The  collision  theory  is  right  after  all.  Russia  and 
Japan  have  arranged  their  little  differences.  The 
Japanese  fleet  is  here  on  a  friendly  visit." 

And  my  eyes  sought  the  Japanese  line-of-battle  for 
some  confirmation  of  this  view.  And  the  Japanese 
line-of-battle  spoke. 

At  that  instant — it  was  then  a  quarter-past  eleven — 
there  was  a  big  bright  flash  from  the  starboard  side 
of  the  Mikasa,  then  about  five  miles  distant,  and, 
immediately  after,  a  vast,  invisible  Something  rushed 
over  the  mast-head  of  the  Columbia  with  the  mighty 
sound  of  a  railway  train  hurled  into  space,  and  every 
one  on  board,  from  the  cook  who  had  deserted  his 
galley  to  the  captain  who  had  not  yet  left  off  swearing, 
ducked  suddenly  and  reverentially. 

It  was  the  first  shot  of  the  Russo-Japanese  War! 
The  table  had  been  overturned,  the  diplomatic  chess- 
board kicked  across  the  room,  and  one  of  the  armed 
players  had  jumped  to  his  feet  and  smitten  the  other 
on  the  face ! 

In  the  pause  that  succeeded  that  first  shot,  I  felt, 
like  the  weight  of  Atlas,  the  awed,  tense  silence  of  the 
world.  The  child  of  the  nations  had  drawn  his  tiny 
sword  on  the  mighty  behemoth  of  Muskovy  !     David 


64  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

had  challenged  Goliath,  and,  if  he  failed,  his  punish- 
ment would  be  such  as  to  make  the  nations  white  with 
terror.  If  he  did  not  fail,  the  consequences  would  be 
more  terrific  still.  They  would  be  the  fall  of  the 
House  of  Romanoff. 

No  more  proposals,  counter-proposals,  amendments 
to  counter-proposals,  mutual  engagements,  notes  ver- 
Safes,  reciprocal  recognitions,  bases  of  understanding ! 
No  more  delays,  due  to  Count  Lamsdorf  being  "very 
much  occupied,"  to  the  Tsar  being  "absent  at  military 
manoeuvres,"  to  the  Empress  being  sick,  to  the  neces- 
sity of  transferring  the  negotiations  to  Tokio,  or  to 
"  the  lack  of  a  suitable  formula  !  " 

Admiral  Togo  has  found  the  formula  which  he 
considers  suitable,  and,  a  thousand  feet  overhead,  it 
now  goes  wailing  and  shrieking  towards  the  doomed 
fortress  ! 

Some  seconds  after,  the  shell,  which  was,  I  should 
say,  a  12-inch  one,  burst  with  a  terrific  roar  in  the 
small  space  of  sea  intervening  between  the  torpedoed 
battle-ships  and  a  group  of  frightened-looking  torpedo- 
boat  destroyers. 

The  report  of  this  gun  was  like  the  report  of  a  pistol 
fired  into  a  powder  magazine,  for  the  reply  which  it  pro- 
voked was  terrific.  The  Russian  batteries  thundered 
like  gods  hurling  a  tremendous  anathema  at  some  sacri- 
legious intruder.  Golden  Hill  Fort  howled  in  gigantic 
remonstrance.  The  electric  battery  bellowed  forth 
thunder.  On  the  middle  batteries  there  was  a  deafen- 
ing, interminable  chorus  of  cannon.  The  guns  on 
Wieyuen  Fort  and  Tiger's  Tail  erupted  like  active 
volcanoes.  Spouts  of  smoke  poured  from  Liao-tau- 
shan,  where  smokeless    powder   did  not  seem  to  be 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA 


65 


used  ;  and  at  intervals  White  Wolf  Hill  joined  with  a 
crash  of  artillery  in  this  prodigious  litany.    That  noise 


POSITION  OF  RUSSIAN  WARSHIPS  IN  OUTER  HARBOUR  AT 
PORT  ARTHUR  AT  THE  TIME  OF  JAPANESE  ATTACK 

1.  The  Rasboinik ;  2.  the  Gilyak ;  3.  the  Columbia;  4.  the  Novik  ;  5.  the 
Boyarin;  6.  the  Petropavlovsk  (admiral's  flagship);  7.  the  Poltava;  8.  the 
Sevastopol;  9.  the  Cesar evich  ;  10.  the  Peresvet  (vice-admiral's  flagship) ;  11. the 
Retvizan ;  12.  the  Pobieda ;  13.  the  Bayan ;  14.  the  Pallada;  15.  the  Diana; 
16.  the  Askold;  17.  the  Angara  (the  volunteer  fleet  steamer  which  was  con- 
verted into  a  cruiser). 

seemed  too  great  to  be  terrestrial ;  it  pertained  to  the 
solar  system.     It  was  as  if  the   seven  thunders  had 


66  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

uttered  their  voices.  It  was  as  if  the  five  thousand 
isles  of  Japan  were  hurling  themselves  on  us  bodily. 
It  was  as  if  the  earth  had  come  into  collision  with 
Mars.  With  the  voices  and  thunders  and  lightnings, 
it  was  like  Armageddon. 

It  is  difficult  to  measure  things  that  pass  all  limit 
of  measurement.  It  is  difficult  for  a  great  writer,  and 
impossible  for  a  minor  journalist,  to  give  in  writing  an 
idea  of  what  far  transcends  the  ordinary.  Nobody  can 
get  from  books  an  accurate  conception  of  the  ocean,  the 
Pyramids,  the  Himalaya  mountains,  the  Grand  Canon 
of  the  Colorado.  He  must  go  and  see  them  for  him- 
self. And  nobody  that  has  not  heard  a  great  cannonade 
can  understand  from  books  what  it  is.  It  towers  above 
ordinary  noises,  as  Fujiyama  towers  above  the  hovels 
of  Hakone.  What  peculiarly  struck  me  about  it  was 
its  quality  of  stupendous  and  overwhelming  vastness. 
But  the  supreme  limit  of  noise  had  not  been  reached, 
for  whenever  the  63-ton  guns  at  the  entrance  to  the 
harbour  went  off  all  together  with  a  vast  shout  like  the 
crack  of  doom,  all  the  lesser  thunders  were  drowned  ; 
and  through  the  air  ran  a  giant,  rending  sound  and  a 
violent  vibration,  almost  strong  enough  to  knock  me 
off  my  feet  as  I  stood  on  the  deck  of  the  Columbia. 
On  such  occasions  my  knees  smote  one  against  another, 
and  I  felt  inclined  to  throw  myself  prostrate  on  my 
face,  as  if  I  had  heard  the  voice  of  Jehovah. 

The  first  shell  had  evidently  been  intended  for  the 
torpedoed  battle-ships,  and  it  went  so  near  its  mark 
that  it  must  have  splashed  them  with  spray  from 
the  big  liquid  column  that  shot  from  the  sea  at  the 
point  where  the  projectile  touched  the  water.  Near 
this  point  of  contact  there  happened  to  be  a  Chinese 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  67 

boat,  which  must  have  been  injured,  for  we  saw  the 
entire  crew  jump  into  the  sea. 

The  Japanese  did  not  pause  to  contemplate  the 
effect  of  their  first  shell.  All  their  vessels  now  opened 
fire,  running  south-west  in  a  stately  line.  The  air 
was  filled  with  the  whizz  of  high-velocity  projectiles, 
hundreds  of  which  seemed  to  pass  over  our  heads  every 
minute  ;  the  surface  of  the  sea  in  our  neighbourhood 
was  dotted  with  columns  of  water,  as  the  surface  of  a 
pond  is  dotted  during  a  heavy  rain-storm  ;  and  the  din 
was  intensified  tenfold. 

The  Columbia  was  now  moving,  but,  of  course,  I 
expected  she  would  soon  anchor  again. 

The  Russian  fleet  divided  into  two  parts.  One  part 
ran  parallel  to  the  shore  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the 
entrance,  the  other  parallel  to  the  shore  on  the  left- 
hand  side,  all  the  vessels, — even  the  torpedoed  battle- 
ships— firing  continuously  at  the  Japanese.  On  the 
whole,  they  seemed  to  manoeuvre  clumsily.  Some  of 
the  war-ships  revolved  without  changing  their  position, 
and  the  whole  fleet  was  evidently  placed  at  a  disad- 
vantage by  reason  of  the  cramped  space  and  of  the 
consequent  danger  of  running  ashore.  The  Novik  and 
some  other  cruisers  ran  out  pluckily  until  within  a 
short  distance  of  the  enemy,  whose  torrents  of  shell 
sometimes  hid  them  from  our  view.  The  Poltava  and 
the  Diana  were  wrapped  in  flames. 

I  must  confess,  however,  that  I  was  not  calm  enough 
just  then  to  watch  the  fight  with  the  amount  of  atten- 
tion necessary  to  give  a  very  detailed  report  of  it. 
The  reason  of  this  was  that  we  were  running  parallel 
to  a  line  of  Russian  cruisers,  which  drew  on  us  the 
fire  of  the  Japanese.     We  were  so  close  to  the  beach 


68  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

that  I  could  have  thrown  a  stone  ashore,  and  were  still 
going  south.  I  wondered  vaguely  why  we  had  not  yet 
anchored,  but  was  afraid  to  ask  the  captain,  as  he  was 
now  absolutely  unapproachable.  Besides,  what  did  it 
matter  ?  We  could  no  more  expect  to  escape  those 
thick-falling  shells  than  a  man  standing  outside  in  a 
thunderstorm  can  expect  to  escape  the  drops  of  rain. 

The  skipper  had  now  hoisted  his  biggest  British 
ensign  to  the  mast-head.  "  D — n  them,"  said  he  in  a 
surly  tone,  speaking  more  to  himself  than  to  us,  and 
jerking  his  thumb  upwards,  while  in  his  eyes  there 
burned  a  lurid  light  which  I  took  at  the  time  to  be 
the  light  of  insanity,  "  d — n  them,  let  them  fire  on 
that !  " 

This  remark  seemed  to  me  to  be  one  of  those 
childish  but  infinitely  mystic  and  significant  things 
which,  all  unconsciously,  dying  soldiers  sometimes 
say.  Did  the  captain  imagine  that  there  was  some 
potent,  storm-quelling  magic  in  the  ensign  that  had 
won  the  over-lordship  of  all  the  seas  ?  Did  he  think, 
for  drowning  men  grasp  at  straws,  that  the  Japanese 
might  refrain  from  firing  on  that  flag  out  of  friendship 
or  the  Russians  out  of  fear  ?  If  the  former  were  the 
case  he  was  mistaken,  for  the  Japanese  projectiles 
continued  to  fall  very  close.  One  fragment  of  shell 
made  a  small  hole  in  the  deck  forward,  another  frag- 
ment tore  the  flag  itself. 

Before  the  engagement  began  I  had  been  reflecting 
with  exultation  that  there  was  a  chance  of  my  getting 
to  Chefoo  before  any  other  war-correspondent ;  but 
when  the  shells  began  to  sing  through  the  air  and 
raise  huge  pillars  of  water  before,  behind,  and  close  to 
both  sides  of  the  ship,  I  forgot  all  about  that  matter, 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  69 

or  if  I  reflected  on  it  at  all,  it  was  only  to  curse  my 
luck  at  falling  in  a  fight  which  was  not  mine.  For  I 
regarded  myself  as  already  doomed.  I  thought  of 
writing  a  farewell  letter  to  one  dear  friend  ;  but  the 
reflection  that  letters  never  find  their  way  from  the 
bottom  of  the  deep  made  me  stop  after  the  first  few 
words. 

What  annoyed  me  most  was  the  uselessness  of  my 
death.  To  die  for  a  great  cause  is  glorious.  To  die 
as  a  combatant  on  board  one  of  those  war-vessels 
would  be  an  honour. 

I  felt,  oddly  enough,  that  if  I  had  died  as  a  regularly 
attached  correspondent  on  board  one  of  the  Russian 
battle-ships,  I  would  have  been  satisfied.  Even  if  I 
had  knowingly,  willingly,  sailed  into  the  fray  on  board 
the  Columbia,  the  prospect  of  death  would  not  have 
been  so  horrible.  But  it  was  by  the  merest  accident 
that  I  had  got  caught  in  this  whirlwind  of  great  events, 
that  I  had  got  mixed  up  in  this  gigantic  contest  of 
empires.  Any  fool  might  have  done  the  same.  I 
ardently  longed  to  get  outside  the  danger-zone  so  that 
I  could  bid  my  friends  good-bye  with  a  sad,  sad  smile, 
and  then  sail  back  again  to  meet  my  fate. 

The  only  bright  spot  in  this  gloomy  outlook  was  the 
conviction  that  my  paper  would  manfully  lie  for  me, 
would  say  that  with  eagle  eye  I  had  foreseen  all  that 
was  going  to  take  place,  and  had  steered  straight  for 
the  heart  of  the  battle.  I  also  reflected  with  melan- 
choly satisfaction  that  I  had  certainly  got  the  better 
of  those  Chefoo  shipowners  who  had  insisted,  a  few 
days  before,  that  in  case  I  chartered  one  of  their 
vessels,  even  at  a  most  exorbitant  rate,  I  would  have 
to  agree  that  the  captain  would  be  at  liberty  to  turn 


70  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

back  in  case  he  saw  any  of  the   rival  fleets  on  the 
horizon. 

But  in  truth  my  death  was  going  to  be  miserable. 
A  non-combatant,  struck  by  a  stray  shell  while  running 
away  from  the  fight  on  board  a  harmless  merchant 
steamer — Good  Heavens,  what  a  fate  ! 

I  looked  into  the  engine-room  and  was  surprised  at 
the  regularity  with  which  the  cranks  and  connecting- 
rods  were  doing  their  duty.  I  looked  around  generally, 
and  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  Columbia  had  shrunk  to 
the  dimensions  of  a  row-boat.  Compared  with  the 
iron  leviathans  which  were  battling  around  her  in 
smoke  and  flame,  she  resembled  a  pet  lamb  that  has 
got  mixed  up  in  a  bull-fight. 

I  have  a  dim  remembrance  of  moving  about  the 
ship  with  inconceivable  rapidity.  I  fancied  that  if  I 
remained  still  for  a  second  a  shell  would  surely  fall  on 
top  of  me.  First  of  all  I  went  aft  as  far  as  I  could. 
I  don't  know  why  I  went  aft,  but  I  had  a  kind  of 
vague  idea  that  if  the  front  part  of  the  ship  were 
blown  away,  I  could  hang  on  to  the  rear.  Here  I 
found  chief-engineer  Smith,  his  face  of  a  pallor  which 
moved  me  more  than  eloquence,  one  side  of  it  splashed 
with  powder  or  some  black  stuff  shot  up  by  a  shell 
that  had  burst  near  the  screw,  and  the  other  side 
glistening  with  perspiration. 

Mr.  Smith  did  not  seem  to  hear  the  banal,  con- 
solatory remarks  I  addressed  to  him ;  but  in  spite 
of  his  glassy  stare  and  very  preoccupied  manner  he 
showed  that  he  was  aware  of  my  presence  by  telling 
me,  in  extremely  emphatic  language,  the  sort  of  fool  I 
was  for  not  having  gone  ashore  in  the  doctor's  boat. 
I  did  not,  however,  understand  all  he  said,  for,  strange 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  7i 

to  say,   he  had  relapsed  in  his  excitement  into  the 
broadest  of  broad  Scotch. 

The  Chinese  crew  looked  as  if  they  might,  in  their 
madness,  do  something  desperate,  but  the  Chinese 
passengers  remained  all  the  time  crouched  behind  the 
little  wooden  structure  that  formed  the  saloon  and  the 
cabins,  and  seemed  to  think  that  they  were  quite  safe 
there.  One  of  them  said  to  the  ship's  officers  :  "  What 
for  you  standee  out  there  in  open  ?  All  right  here," 
and  seemed  hurt  and  astonished  when  he  saw  that 
none  of  us  accepted  the  invitation  to  get  under  cover. 

There  was  always  present  in  my  mind  the  terrible 
certainty  that  there  was  no  longer  any  cover,  no  more 
protection.  A  glance  at  the  terrific  splashes  made  by 
the  shells  that  fell  around  showed  me  that,  if  one  of 
those  formidable  missiles  struck  the  Co/umdia,  all  was 
over  with  us. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  this,  I  must  say  that  I  always  breathed 
more  freely  for  a  second  or  so  after  I  had  got  behind 
something,  no  matter  what  it  was.  I  also  had  at  times 
the  strongest  possible  inclination  to  go  below,  to  get 
down  to  the  very  keel  of  the  ship,  to  go  through  the 
keel  if  possible,  to  dive  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  coming 
up  for  breath  in  the  intervals  between  the  shells.  The 
chief-engineer  seemed  to  have  the  same  inclination, 
for  I  once  caught  him  hesitating  at  the  top  of  a  ladder, 
which  he  clutched  with  a  grasp  of  iron.  He  did  not 
descend  that  ladder,  however.  He  said  that  he  saw 
there  was  no  good  in  doing  so,  and,  indeed,  there  was 
a  better  chance  on  deck  than  below. 

Between  the  cabins  aft  and  those  forward  there  was  an 
open  space,  and  I  suddenly  took  it  into  my  head  to 
traverse  this  space  in  order  to  join  the  ship's  officers, 


72  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

who  were  all  gathered  together  at  the  other  extremity 
of  the  boat.  I  did  so,  running  as  quickly  as  my  legs 
could  carry  me,  as  if  I  were  running  from  one  certain 
shelter  to  another  and  might  be  caught  half-way  across 
if  I  did  not  hurry.  Of  course  I  did  not  reason  about 
the  matter.     My  legs  simply  ran  off  with  me. 

Outside  the  saloon,  on  the  side  facing  the  forts,  I 
found  our  two  Russian  soldiers  crossing  themselves  at 
a  great  rate  and  praying  fervently.  A  few  minutes 
before,  they  had  gone  forward  with  their  rifles,  and 
wanted  the  captain  to  stop  the  boat,  but  I  had 
explained  to  them  that  we  were  going  "  nyemnozhko 
dalsche,"  just  a  little  further,  so  as  to  be  out  of  the 
way  of  the  projectiles  ;  that,  in  doing  so,  we  were  only 
obeying  the  orders  we  had  just  received  from  the  last 
naval  officer  who  had  visited  us,  and  that  directly  we 
rounded  that  point  yonder  we  would  drop  anchor. 

This,  combined  with  something  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Englishmen,  pacified  the  soldiers,  and  saved  us  from 
a  bloody  struggle  which  I  had,  at  one  moment,  regarded 
as  inevitable.  The  soldiers  seemed  to  particularly 
appreciate  the  idea  of  getting  away  from  the  shells, 
and  when  the  latter  fell  like  rain  around  us  they  were 
too  much  occupied  in  prayer  to  pay  any  attention  to 
external  things.  After  a  while  one  of  them  completely 
disappeared,  going  down  below,  probably  in  obedience 
to  that  blind  instinct  of  self-preservation  which  all  of 
us  found  it  so  hard  to  struggle  against  and  which  the 
Chinese  so  cheerfully  obeyed.  He  reappeared  when 
all  was  over  and  we  had  almost  lost  sight  of  land, 
but  neither  he  nor  his  companion  caused  us  any  further 
trouble. 

On  my  reaching  the  " shelter"  of  the  forward  set  of 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  73 

cabins,  I  found,  in  the  unprotected  space  in  front  of 
them,  that  is  in  the  extreme  bows,  the  captain  and 
the  rest  of  the  officers  grouped  together,  wild-eyed, 
pallid,  and  silent.  The  quartermaster  was  at  the 
wheel. 

The  mate  casually  threw  a  rope's  end  overboard,  with 
the  object,  as  he  afterwards  told  me,  of  having  some- 
thing to  hold  on  to  in  case  the  ship  was  struck.  At 
the  same  time  I  conceived  the  brilliant  idea  of 
throwing  some  woodwork  into  the  sea  and  jumping 
after  it.  How  fine  it  would  be  to  swim  ashore — we 
were,  as  I  have  already  said,  running  very  close  to  the 
land — with  the  assistance  of  this  woodwork  !  As  my 
imagination  dwelt  on  this  flattering  prospect,  a  large 
shell  dropped  on  the  spot  where  I  had  imagined 
myself  to  be  swimming  and  caused  me  to  abandon 
the  idea  hastily. 

I  decided,  then,  to  stick  to  the  captain.  At  the  same 
time  I  began  to  conceive  an  intense  animosity  for  the 
Japanese  in  general  and  for  Admiral  Togo  in  particular, 
for  how  can  one  retain  his  good  opinion  of  people  who 
are  throwing  1 2-inch  shells  at  him  ?  I  thought  it 
vile,  treacherous.  "  O !  wont  I  '  roast '  them  in  the 
Herald  if  ever  I  get  out  of  this !  "  I  told  the  captain 
what  I  would  do,  but  did  not  catch  his  reply,  for  at 
that  instant  a  shell  exploded  with  a  tremendous  detona- 
tion right  under  the  bow,  splashing  the  deck  with 
water  and  making  the  gallant  little  craft  first  baulk  like 
a  horse  and  then  tremble  violently  from  stem  to  stern. 
Everybody's  face  grew  a  shade  whiter,  and  with  a 
shiver  that  penetrated  to  the  marrow  of  my  bones  I 
caught  the  dreadful  words,  "contact  mine."  The 
faces  of  the  Chinese  sailors  grew  livid,  and  it  looked 


74  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

as  if  they  would  rush  overboard,  carrying  the  rest  of 
us  along  with  them. 

I  ran  into  my  cabin  and  remember  feeling  astonished 
and  hurt  for  the  millionth  part  of  a  second  on  perceiving 
that  things  were  just  as  I  had  left  them  on  getting  up 
in  the  morning — tooth-brush,  soiled  water  in  the  wash- 
basin, bed  unmade,  pyjamas  lying  on  the  floor,  half- 
smoked  cigarette  on  the  ash-tray,  enlarged  photograph 
of  the  captain's  wife  beaming  at  the  head  of  the  bed. 
Had  everything  been  wrecked  and  had  there  been  a 
smell  of  gunpowder  in  the  air,  and  my  blanket  been 
standing  on  end  looking  like  the  ghost  of  Hamlet's 
father,  I  should  have  considered  it  the  proper  thing ; 
but  this  common,  comfortable  vulgarity  of  a  bedchamber 
that  has  just  been  slept  in  seemed  monstrously  out  of 
place. 

Glancing  mechanically  at  the  looking-glass,  I  was 
horrified  to  see  reflected  therein  a  face  that  was  not 
my  face  at  all,  but  that  of  a  disinterred  corpse.  Then 
a  terrific,  vicious  whiz-z-z-z-z-z  overhead  made  me 
suddenly  bury  my  head  in  the  bed-clothes  and  stop  my 
ears  with  my  fingers,  but  hardly  had  I  done  so  than 
an  uncontrollable  desire  to  get  outside  into  the  open 
air  seized  upon  me.  I  felt  that  if  I  remained  in  that 
cabin  a  second  longer  I  should  smother.  I  felt  that  if 
I  joined  some  group  or  knot  of  men  I  should  be  safe. 
Accordingly  I  fled  from  the  room  like  one  pursued  by 
the  furies.  I  went  so  quickly  that  I  might  have  gone 
overboard  had  I  not  heard  the  captain  say  at  that 
moment  in  his  usual  tones  to  his  Chinese  "  boy  "  who 
was  standing  white-lipped  beside  him,  and  dressed,  for 
some  reason  or  other,  in  his  best  silk  gown  :  "  Boy, 
bring  me  some  cigarettes  !     Hurry  up  !     D you  ! 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  75 

_  1  _  I !  _  J  J  J  _  ! ! ! !  —!!!!!"  whereupon  the  boy's 
tense  face  relaxed,  as  if  he  had  been  instantaneously 
cured  of  some  painful  malady,  and  he  went  away, 
smiling  and  assuring  his  panic-stricken  countrymen, 
who  were  bunched  behind  him  in  the  attitudes  of  men 
about  to  go  mad,  that  it  was  all  right.  The  skipper's 
lurid  blasphemies  had  saved  us  from  a  mutiny. 

One  of  the  officers  said  he  thought  it  best  to  run  the 
Columbia  ashore,  but,  as  the  shells  were  bursting  more 
thickly  on  the  beach  and  on  the  face  of  the  cliffs  than 
on  the  line  we  were  taking,  this  plan  was  not  adopted. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  we  did  the  best  thing  we  could 
under  the  circumstances.  We  ran  between  two  lines 
of  shells,  the  shells  intended  for  the  Russian  fleet, 
which  went  too  far,  that  is,  which  went  beyond  the 
Russian  battle-ships,  and  the  shells  intended  for  the 
forts,  which  fell  short,  that  is  which  fell  at  the  point 
where  sea  and  land  met.     I  saw  this  afterwards. 

The  Russian  battle-ships  were  frequently  hit.  One 
of  the  Japanese  shells  knocked  a  funnel  off  the  Askold, 
leaving  that  vessel  with  four  funnels  ;  another  hit  the 
Sevastopol,  covering  her  with  a  dense  cloud  of  black 
smoke,  from  which,  however,  she  seemed  to  emerge 
uninjured.  Several  other  Russian  vessels  were  struck, 
but  none  of  them  seemed  to  be  seriously  damaged. 

So  much  for  the  first  line  of  Japanese  shells. 

As  for  the  second  line, — that  intended  for  the  forts, — 
a  good  many  shells  fell  short,  as  I  have  already 
remarked,  many  bursting  in  the  sea  close  to  the  shore 
and  many  striking  the  hillside  and  raising  clouds  of 
yellow  dust.  Two  or  three  burst  on  the  very  summit 
of  the  forts,  hurling  up  tons  of  earth,  which  hung  out 
against   the  sky  like     a     banner.     One    exploded   a 


76  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

magazine  on  Golden   Hill   Fort,  raising  an  enormous 
column  of  smoke. 

While  pouring  in  this  rain  of  projectiles,  the 
Japanese  vessels  kept  sailing  majestically  south-west, 
afterwards  wheeling  round  and  returning  along  a  line 
almost  parallel  to  that  by  which  they  had  come  ;  and  I 
dare  say  that  if  I  had  been  in  a  place  of  safety  I 
should  have  admired  their  perfect  order  and  the  grace 
with  which  they  carried  out  their  evolutions. 

After  forty  minutes  of  the  sort  of  experience  that  I 
have  been  trying  to  describe,  the  Columbia  got  clear 
of  the  rival  fleets.  For  some  time  after  we  had  got 
out  of  reach  of  the  shells  we  still  felt  uneasy,  for  a  shot 
from  the  forts  or  a  Russian  torpedo-boat  might  yet 
overtake  us  ;  but  at  last  the  battling  navies  and  the 
headlands  of  Port  Arthur  sank  below  the  horizon,  and 
we  were  safe.  The  change  was  so  sudden  that  for 
some  time  I  had  difficulty  in  remembering  who  and 
where  I  was.  The  air  was  so  rarefied  and  the  silence 
so  profound,  that  I  wondered  if  we  were  not  floating  in 
the  clouds  above  the  highest  peak  of  the  Cordilleras. 
My  voice  sounded  singularly  small,  as  if  it  were  not  I 
that  was  speaking  but  a  diminutive  person  inside  me, 
and,  owing  to  the  drumming  in  my  ears  I  could  not  for 
some  moments  hear  anybody  else.  I  had  a  vague  idea 
of  having  seen  the  skipper  before.  It  must  have  been 
about  a  thousand  years  before.  I  wondered  what  he 
had  been  doing  in  the  meantime.  At  present  he  was 
concocting  a  bowl  of  marvellous  and  potent  punch. 
With  Chinese  unconcern  the  waiter  was  laying  the 
table  for  luncheon.  Good  heavens !  it  was  only  half 
past  one  o'clock,  and  all  these  things  had  happened 
during  the  last  four  hours !     The  officers  were  affec- 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  77 

tionately  examining  the  ship,  just  as  you  examine  a 
favourite  horse  which  has  run  away,  smashed  things, 
and  had  thrilling  and  admirable  adventures.  The 
bare-footed  Celestial  crew  were  picking  up  twisted 
fragments  of  projectiles  with  the  happy  smiles  of  chil- 
dren gathering  shells  by  the  sea-shore.  A  dim,  far- 
away voice  told  the  captain  about  his  flag  having  been 
torn  by  a  projectile.  The  captain  did  not  curse.  He 
smiled  tolerantly,  saying,  "  No  matter  !  Haul  it  down, 
and  let's  have  a  look  at  the  old  rag !  "  We  drank  to 
the  health  of  the  rival  fleets  and  of  each  member  of 
the  British  Royal  Family.  Feeling  sleepy  and  over- 
come, I  finally  went  in  the  direction  of  my  cabin, 
where  I  found  that  my  almond-eyed  attendant  had 
made  the  bed  and  was  now  making  things  "  all 
proper  "  as  he  expressed  it.  As  I  was  falling  asleep  I 
heard  a  voice  like  that  of  an  Oriental  bonze  chanting 
a  litany  in  an  unknown  tongue.  It  was  the  skipper 
steadily  working  his  way  downwards  through  the 
Dukes  and  Duchesses  of  the  House  of  Brunswick. 

After  a  long  nap  I  got  up  with  my  head  as  clear  as 
a  bell  and  found  everybody  telling  everybody  else  that 
he  had  acted  throughout  in  the  most  courageous 
manner.  We  fully  expected  to  meet  the  Japanese 
fleet,  but  that  caused  us  no  anxiety.  We  did  not  meet 
it,  however. 

The  Russian  soldiers  still  remained  with  us  of 
course.  There  had  been  some  talk  of  putting  them 
ashore  on  the  Liaotung  coast  in  an  open  boat,  but  as 
they  did  not  seem  to  object  to  being  abducted,  we  did 
not  trouble  ourselves  any  more  about  them.  I  felt 
sorry  for  the  poor  fellows,  however,  and  went  to 
see  them.     I  found  them  sitting  on  deck  with  stolid, 


78  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

expressionless  faces,  across  which  the  shadow  of  a  smile 
flitted  as  I  approached. 

We  happened  to  have  on  board  three  Japanese 
passengers,  one  of  whom  was  from  Dalny,  spoke  some 
Russian,  and  was,  I  should  imagine  from  his  cast  of 
countenance,  one  of  the  many  Japanese  who  were 
occupied  along  the  Chinese  and  Siberian  coast  in  le 
commerce  ambulant  des  femmes.  This  Japanese  was 
speaking  to  the  Russian  soldiers  when  I  came  along 
the  deck.  What  he  was  saying  I  do  not  know,  but  I 
rather  imagine  that  he  was  impressing  on  their  minds 
the  fact  that  their  fleet  had  just  got  an  awful  beating. 

I  told  the  Russians  that  they  were  going  to  Chefoo, 
and  that  they  had  better  see  their  consul  there.  They 
did  not  seem  to  know  what  sort  of  a  "  tchinovneek  "  a 
consul  was,  and,  addressing  me  as  barin  (gentleman), — 
in  the  morning  they  had  always  used  the  contemptuous 
"thou"  (Tui)  and  sometimes  even  durak  (fool), — 
they  innocently  asked  if  there  were  Russian  soldiers 
in  Chefoo.  I  believe  that  the  British  consul  in 
that  Chinese  port  afterwards  explained  the  fact  of 
their  appearance  in  Chefoo  on  board  a  British  vessel 
to  his  Russian  colleague,  with  the  object  of  preventing, 
if  possible,  their  being  shot  as  deserters  on  their  return 
to  Port  Arthur,  and  I  think  that  they  afterwards 
returned  by  rail  to  that  fortress,  but  what  happened  to 
them  there  I  cannot  say. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  joy  with  which  I  saw 
again  in  the  distance  the  calm  harbour  lights  of 
Chefoo.  An  age  of  horrors  seemed  to  have  elapsed 
since  I  had  seen  them  last.  The  captain  anchored 
afar  off,  alongside  a  Russian  steamer,  which,  in  blissful 
ignorance  of  all  that  had  just  occurred,  was  getting 


ON  BOARD  THE  COLUMBIA  79 

ready  to  proceed  to  Port  Arthur  with  a  cargo  of  cattle. 
He  then  sent  me  ashore  in  the  ship's  boat,  so  that  I 
could  send  off  my  wire  before  any  of  the  corre- 
spondents in  Chefoo  got  the  news.  It  was  an  hour's 
long  rowing  before  we  reached  the  pier ;  and  then, 
though  the  boat  with  its  Chinese  crew  immediately 
pushed  off  again,  leaving  only  me  and  the  chief  officer 
of  the  Colmnbia  on  the  land,  a  few  quick  sing-song 
monosyllables  which  passed  between  the  men  in  the 
boat  and  the  pig-tailed  loungers  about  the  quay 
betrayed  our  secret  to  the  keen  Celestial  merchants  of 
the  town,  and  within  an  hour  the  Russian  rouble  had 
fallen  to  depths  such  as  it  had  never  before  fathomed. 
As  I  hurried  towards  the  telegraph  office  I  laughed 
hilariously  at  the  utter  sleepiness  and  respectability  of 
this  staid  little  outport,  which  reminded  me  strongly  of 
an  obscure  village  in  England  on  a  wet  Sunday  after- 
noon, for  I  knew  that  I  carried  news  that  would  stir  it 
like  an  earthquake.  The  telegraph  office  was  as  silent 
as  a  church  on  a  week-day.  An  invisible  clock 
ticked  loudly,  and  an  old  woman  was  explaining  a 
telegram  to  a  pale,  bored-looking  clerk,  who  gazed  at 
me  reproachfully  when  I  came  in,  judging  doubtless 
from  my  appearance  that  I  was  drunk.  In  ten  minutes 
more  that  clerk  rushed  out  from  his  sanctum  with 
flushed  face  and  gripped  me  in  silence  by  the  hand.  I 
wound  up  that  night  in  the  Japanese  Consulate,  where 
Commander  Mori,  of  the  Imperial  Japanese  Navy,  was 
displaying  to  an  enthusiastic  audience,  which  included 
Mr.  Brindle  of  the  Daily  Mail  and  Mr.  Denny  of  the 
Associated  Press,  a  British  flag  torn  to  rags  by  a  shell. 
It  was  the  flag  which  had  fluttered  at  the  masthead  of 
the  Columbia  on  her  mad  race  from  Port  Arthur. 


CHAPTER  V 

INSIDE  PORT  ARTHUR 

I  shall  now  try  to  give  some  account  of  what  was 
happening  at  this  time  inside  Port  Arthur. 

On  Monday,  February  8,  the  stranger  who  landed 
in  that  fortress-city  found  himself  immediately  in  an 
atmosphere  charged  to  the  highest  degree  with 
electricity  ;  and,  no  matter  how  languid  he  may  have 
felt  on  corning  ashore,  he  soon  became,  like  all  those 
around  him,  excited,  nervous,  full  of  expectation  and 
vague  dread. 

It  might  almost  be  said  that  the  change  was  brought 
about  more  by  something  in  the  atmosphere  of  the 
place  than  by  anything  that  was  heard  or  seen,  for 
nothing  was  to  be  seen  save  groups  of  excited  people, — 
ladies,shop assistants, Chinese  "boys,"  "izvoshcheeks," 
etc., — gesticulating  wildly  on  the  pavement,  and  nothing 
was  to  be  heard  save  a  babble  of  confused  and  incom- 
prehensible talk,  in  which,  owing  to  frequent  repetition, 
the  words  "  Yapontsi "  (Japanese)  and  "  voina"  (war) 
alone  fixed  themselves  in  the  memory. 

The  "Saratoff"  was  so  thronged  with  people  that 
no  standing  room  was  left,  and  the  Russian  waiters 
had  had  to  cease  in  despair  the  cry  of  "seichass" 
(immediately)  with  which  they  had  previously  been  in 
the  habit  of  making  customers  wait  for  hours  before 


INSIDE  PORT  ARTHUR  81 

being  served.  They  had  evidently  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that,  on  such  an  occasion,  it  was  useless  for  them 
to  hold  out  even  the  faint  hope  signified  by 
"  seichass." 

The  congestion  was  great.  The  very  limited  re- 
sources of  the  "Saratoff"  were,  in  fact,  overtaxed,  and 
Pankratoff,  the  Armenian  proprietor,  looked  on  help- 
less and  dumbfounded,  through  his  enormous  mous-+ 
taches,  like  a  torpedoed  battle-ship  looking  at  a  fleet  of 
the  enemy's  transports.  Besides,  nobody  ever  thought 
of  eating,  everybody  was  too  busy  talking. 

The  "  izvoshcheeks  "  had  gone  on  strike  a  few  days 
before,  so  that  crowds  of  people  collected  in  the 
middle  of  the  street  undisturbed  by  the  fear  of  being 
run  over  by  one  of  these  rapid  vehicles.  Suddenly 
there  was  a  movement  among  these  crowds  of  people. 
An  "izvoshcheek"  appeared,  a  sorry-looking  specimen. 
The  people  fell  back  from  it  on  both  sides  and  stared. 
Why  ?  Was  an  "  izvoshcheek  "  such  a  curiosity  as  all 
that  ? 

The  soldiers  and  policemen  saluted  the  "  izvosh- 
cheek." A  hush  fell  on  the  crowd  of  gabblers. 
Something  very  unusual  was  taking  place.  The 
people  in  the  rear  craned  their  necks.  The  "  izvosh- 
cheek "  came  nearer.  What  was  it,  anyhow  ?  It  was 
something  unusual. 

Seated  inside  the  vehicle  was  a  figure  which  excited 
an  odd  mixture  of  feelings — an  object  which,  while 
slightly  ridiculous,  was  at  the  same  time  portentous. 
Some  boys  laughed.    The  brows  of  the  elders  clouded. 

The  person  who  caused  these  conflicting  feelings 
was  Mr.  Midzuno,  the  Japanese  consul  from  Chefoo. 
Mr.    Midzuno   was   dressed   in   his   gorgeous  official 


82  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

robes,  which  gave  him  something  of  the  air  of  an 
Armenian  patriarch  ;  but  his  face  and  figure  contrasted 
strongly,  almost  ludicrously,  with  his  ceremonial  dress, 
for,  like  most  of  his  countrymen,  he  is  small,  slight 
and  boyish-looking.  He  would  have  looked  all  right 
in  knickerbockers  and  a  Norfolk  jacket.  Opposite 
Mr.  Midzuno  sat  the  constable  of  the  Japanese 
Consulate  in  Chefoo,  a  clean-shaven,  square-jawed 
man  of  medium  size,  who  was  also  clad  in  his  robes  of 
office. 

Some  residents  of  Port  Arthur  recollected  dimly  as 
they  gazed  on  the  swarthy  face  of  the  " constable" 
that  they  had  often  seen  him  in  Port  Arthur  before. 
He  had  always  been  in  civilian  dress  on  such  occasions, 
sometimes  in  very  shabby  civilian  dress.  Well,  per- 
haps on  those  occasions  he  had  been  merely  running 
to  earth  some  law-breaker.  At  all  events  he  could 
have  been  doing  nothing  serious,  for,  although  in 
social  life  the  constable  is  sometimes  a  formidable  per- 
sonage, he  is  not  a  factor  of  any  particular  importance 
in  international  politics.  I  shall,  therefore,  say  nothing 
further  at  present  about  Mr.  Midzuno's  "  constable." 

Behind  the  carriage  came  a  motley  collection  of 
Japanese,  those  that  had  not  yet  fled  from  Port 
Arthur.  The  men  did  not  form  a  striking  procession. 
In  shabby,  ill-fitting  European  clothes  and  ancient 
hats,  they  looked  like  a  collection  of  bankrupt  tailors. 
Behind  them  came  a  number  of  richly  dressed  Japanese 
women,  many  of  them  young  and  handsome,  and 
most  of  them  smiling  right  and  left  at  the  Russian 
officers,  with  that  excessively  light  and  easy  manner 
which  marks  the  woman  of  a  certain  class  all  over  the 
world. 


INSIDE  PORT  ARTHUR  83 

Many  of  the  men  belonged  to  a  profession  in  which 
a  considerable  number  of  the  Japanese  settled  along 
the  Chinese  and  Siberian  coast  were  actively  en- 
gaged ;  they  were  professional  procurers.  I  have 
since  heard  that  some  of  them  combined  this  profes- 
sion with  the  more  honourable  one  of  officers  of  the 
Imperial  Japanese  Staff,  but  I  do  not  know  whether 
this  is  a  Russian  calumny  or  not. 

Some  of  the  women  were  "  amahs"  (nurses),  and 
had  been  employed  in  the  families  of  the  leading  naval 
and  military  people  in  the  port.  Whether  or  not  they 
picked  up  any  valuable  information  in  this  way  I  do 
not  know,  but  I  am  inclined  to  think  that,  especially 
in  their  cups,  Russian  officials  sometimes  forget  that 
Japanese  women  have  got  sharp  ears  and  unusually 
active  brains. 

Mr.  Midzuno  had  chartered  an  English  steamer, 
the  Foochow,  and  came  over  in  her  from  Chefoo  in 
order  to  carry  all  his  countrymen  out  of  Port  Arthur  and 
Dalny.  He  had  first  spoken  on  this  subject  to  Mr. 
Tiedelmann,  the  Russian  consul  in  Chefoo  ;  and  Mr. 
Tiedelmann,  while  protesting  that  there  would  be  no 
war  and  that,  even  if  war  did  take  place,  the  Japanese 
in  Liaotung  would  never  be  molested,  extended  every 
facility  to  his  brother  consul,  that  is  he  got  the 
quarantine  abolished  in  his  favour  at  Port  Arthur  and 
he  gave  him  a  special  pass  which  relieved  him  from 
a  lot  of  troublesome  formalities. 

"  But  excuse  me,"  cried  Mr.  Midzuno,  when  this 
had  been  done,  "my  constable  is  going  with  me. 
Please  give  him  a  special  pass  also." 

Mr.  Tiedelmann  was  only  too  happy  to  do  so.  He 
laughed  lightly   as   he   did   it.       The  consul   of  his 


84  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Imperial  Majesty  the  Emperor  of  Japan  evidently 
meant  to  do  this  big  u  bluff"  in  style.  Well,  there  was 
no  harm  in  humouring  him. 

In  Port  Arthur  the  consul  and  the  constable  were 
treated  with  true  Russian  hospitality,  the  consul  at 
the  tables  of  the  great  men  of  the  place,  the  constable 
in  the  sculleries.  The  consul  saw  Mr.  Plancon,  the 
head  of  the  Diplomatic  Bureau  in  Port  Arthur,  and  had 
an  interesting  conversation  with  him.  He  lunched 
with  the  Governor  of  Kwantung  Province.  Some  of 
the  military  and  naval  leaders  of  the  Russians  were 
present  at  this  lunch,  and,  in  the  good  old  Slavonic 
style,  a  considerable  quantity  of  champagne  was  con- 
sumed in  toasts. 

Consul  Midzuno  beamed  with  delight,  but  insisted 
on  going  away  early.  He  probably  knew  what 
Russian  luncheons  mean.  Besides,  important  work 
remained  for  him  to  do.  Accordingly,  he  left  by  the 
Foochow  in  the  afternoon,  went  to  Dalny,  got  all  the 
Japanese  who  had  been  left  in  Dalny  aboard,  and  then 
steered  for  Chefoo. 

Eighteen  miles  off  Port  Arthur  he  met  the  Japanese 
squadron  and,  when  abreast  of  the  flagship,  the 
Foochow  lowered  a  boat,  and  in  a  short  time  the 
consul  and  his  constable  were  in  Admiral  Togo's 
cabin.  Here  the  constable  laid  before  the  admiral  a 
chart  on  which  the  positions  of  all  the  Russian  vessels 
were  marked,  and  told  him  of  the  careless  watch  that 
was  being  kept. 

The  admiral  asked  many  questions  about  things 
which  only  a  naval  man  will  think  of,  and  these 
questions  were  answered  with  remarkable  lucidity  by 
the  "  constable."     No  champagne  was  consumed,  no 


INSIDE  PORT  ARTHUR  85 

"  sake"  "  even  ;  but  as  the  Foochow  steamed  away,  her 
cargo  of  refugees  cheered  for  the  Mikado  and  his  fleet. 
That  was  all  the  show  of  enthusiasm  there  was,  and  I 
dare  say  it  was  unsatisfactory  from  a  European  point 
of  view,  for  the  Japanese  do  not  know  how  to 
cheer. 

In  fact  there  was  a  hard,  businesslike  air  about  this 
remarkable  meeting,  which  must  have  contrasted 
strongly  with  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Russian  officers 
in  Port  Arthur,  when,  at  about  precisely  the  same  time, 
they  drew  their  legs  under  Admiral  Starck's  hospitable 
table  in  order  to  commemorate  Mrs.  Starck's  birth- 
day. 

Admiral  Togo  kept  the  chart  the  constable  had 
given  him,  and  it  soon  turned  out  useful.  Meanwhile 
the  consul  went  home,  and  when  the  Columbia  came 
flying  full-speed  from  Port  Arthur  the  following 
evening,  neither  he  nor  his  constable  was  astonished 
at  the  news  it  brought. 

However,  in  order  to  celebrate  the  occasion 
worthily,  the  constable  laid  aside  his  humble  garb 
and  appeared  in  the  consular  drawing-room  in  the 
uniform  of  a  Japanese  naval  commander.  And  he  is 
a  Japanese  naval  commander.  He  had  been  for  a 
long  time  stationed  at  Chefoo,  picking  up  hints,  visit- 
ing Port  Arthur  himself,  and  sending  trustworthy 
agents  out  in  all  directions,  with  the  result  that  in  the 
end  he  got  to  know  more  about  the  Russian  fleet  than 
Admiral  Starck  knew  himself. 

On  the  evening  of  February  9,  the  consul  told  the 
present  writer  the  above  story,  and  the  constable 
nodded  corroboration.  The  latter  afterwards  got  a 
pencil  and  a  piece  of  paper,  and,  without  reference  to 


86  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 


any  maps,  drew,  in  the  bold,  sweeping  style  of  drawing 
that  the  Japanese  have  all  got,  a  remarkably  accurate 
chart  of  Port  Arthur,  afterwards  jotting  down  the 
ships — names,  tonnage,  armament  and  all,  without  an 
instant's  hesitation.  He  then  explained  to  me  all  that 
had  happened,  and  how  it  had  happened.  I  had  been 
there  and  he  had  not,  but  he  knew  considerably  more 
about  the  fight  than  I  did.  All  I  could  tell  him  that  he 
didn't  already  know  for  certain,  was  the  number  of  the 
ships  actually  torpedoed. 

"  Constable  "  Mori  remained  at  Chefoo  for  a  long 
time  after,  very  quiet,  but  with  his  eyes  and  ears  open. 
Owing  to  his  command  of  the  Chinese  language,  to  his 
system  of  espionage,  whose  ramifications  extended 
even  among  the  Chinese  junk-men  and  sampan-men, 
and,  above  all,  to  the  superhuman  zeal  with  which, 
like  all  Japanese,  he  threw  himself  into  his  work,  he 
thwarted  almost  every  plot  hatched  by  the  Russians 
in  Chefoo,  and  having  for  its  object  the  maintenance 
of  communications  between  that  place  and  Port  Arthur. 
A  friend  of  mine,  an  employee  of  the  Chinese  Maritime 
Customs,  once  discovered,  by  accident,  a  link  in  his 
marvellous  intelligence  system. 

He  was  sailing  in  a  steam-launch  at  some  distance 
from  Chefoo,  down  near  the  headland  which  is 
crowned  by  a  Chinese  fort,  when  he  observed  a 
large,  black  object  in  the  water.  It  was  evidently  a 
boat,  but  it  showed  no  lights,  it  was  in  an  unusual  place, 
and  it  was  of  unusual  shape  for  a  merchant  vessel. 

My  friend's  profession  necessitates  his  being  always 
on  the  look-out  for  smugglers  ;  in  fact,  he  had  under- 
taken this  nocturnal  expedition  with  the  object  of 
ascertaining  if  there  was  any  truth  in  the  reports  he 


INSIDE  PORT  ARTHUR  87 

had  heard  about  strange  vessels  being  seen  at  night 
in  this  particular  locality.  Therefore,  he  watched  the 
vessel  narrowly,  and  soon  perceived  that  she  was 
signalling  with  the  shore.  When  the  signalling  had 
gone  on  for  a  little  while,  my  friend  decided  that  it 
was  time  for  him  to  interfere,  and  accordingly  he 
steamed  towards  the  mysterious  intruder.  He  never 
overtook  it,  however. 

As  soon  as  its  sensitive  ears  heard  the  swish  of  the 
approaching  launch,  the  strange  barque  shot  off  at 
eighteen  knots  an  hour — my  friend  is  prepared  to  swear 
it  could  not  be  less — the  red  fire  inside  being  reflected 
in  the  smoke  from  half  a  dozen  short  funnels.  The 
stranger  was  a  torpedo-boat,  and,  far  out,  she  joined 
nine  or  ten  dim,  unlighted  shapes  which  were  far  too 
large  to  be  torpedo-boats ;  and,  soon  after,  the  whole 
fleet  disappeared. 

I  asked  my  friend  to  ascertain  who  had  been  sig- 
nalling from  the  shore  that  night,  and  he  went  to 
the  signal  station  to  inquire,  They  told  him  that  it 
was  a  man  from  the  Japanese  Consulate. 

Meanwhile  the  good  people  of  Port  Arthur  were  dis- 
turbed in  their  sleep  or  in  their  revels  on  the  night 
of  February  8  by  a  sound  of  firing,  which  they  put 
down  of  course  to  practice.  Mr.  Plan^on  has  since  told 
me  that  on  hearing  this  firing  he  simply  turned  on  his 
side  and  went  to  sleep  again,  so  convinced  was  he  that 
it  was  nothing  in  particular.  Next  morning,  however, 
there  was  wild  excitement  in  the  air.  The  Japanese 
had  torpedoed  three  battle-ships  in  the  darkness.  The 
fleet  of  the  Mikado  was  outside.  The  place  was  going 
to  be  bombarded.  If  the  people  had  been  excited 
before,  they  were  doubly  excited  now.     They  crowded 


88  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

in  the  street  facing  the  harbour,  straining  their  eyes 
towards  the  horizon.  The  Viceroy  must  have  told  his 
entourage  to  show  themselves  in  public  in  order  to 
calm  the  excitement,  for  soon  Mr.  Plan^on,  Colonel 
Versheening,  the  Mayor,  General  Stoessel  and  other 
notables  rode  through  the  streets  speaking  affably  to 
everybody  and  smiling  mysteriously  when  questioned 
about  the  affair  of  the  night  before,  as  if  to  intimate 
that  it  was  all  a  little  surprise  which  they  themselves 
had  sprung  on  the  town.  Towards  midday,  however, 
when  the  guns  began  to  boom  again,  a  sickening  fear 
clutched  at  every  heart,  and  when  a  Japanese  shell  fell 
plump  in  the  street  nearly  opposite  Clarkson's,  making 
a  hole  that  you  could  bury  a  mule  in,  wild-eyed  panic 
seized  upon  the  people.  It  was  as  if  the  Judgment 
Day  had  come. 

One  of  the  first  shells  fell  in  front  of  the  office  of 
Baron  Ginsberg,  whose  timber  concession  on  the 
Yalu  had  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  war. 

On  the  very  day  before  the  bombardment,  the  baron, 
who,  although  a  Jew  of  humble  origin  (his  real  name  is 
Mess),  and  whose  right  to  call  himself  baron  is  doubted, 
is  a  personal  friend  of  Admiral  Alexeieff,  declared  that 
there  would  be  no  war,  and  evidently  believed  what  he 
said. 

The  departure  of  the  Japanese  inhabitants  looked 
bad,  but  did  not  damp  the  cheery  optimism  of  the 
great  Jewish  capitalist,  who  opined  that  it  was  all 
"  bluff." 

When  a  large  shell  fell  in  front  of  his  office,  partly 
demolishing  it  and  making  a  big  hole  in  the  ground, 
the  baron  changed  his  mind  about  it  being  all  "  bluff," 
and  suddenly  disappeared  from  view.     He  was  after- 


INSIDE  PORT  ARTHUR  89 

wards  discovered  cowering  in  the  corner  of  a  third- 
class  railway  carriage  by  one  of  his  own  employes, 
who  was  so  affected  by  the  sight  that  he  jumped  into 
the  same  train,  and  went  off  with  practically  nothing 
but  his  pocket-book  and  the  clothes  he  had  on  his  back. 
The  number  of  sudden  disappearances  of  this  kind  was 
large. 

The  prosperous  restaurant  keeper  with  the  big 
moustaches  also  vanished  after  the  first  shell,  having 
evidently  gone  underground,  for  he  as  suddenly  re- 
appeared again  a  few  days  after,  as  did  also  his  door- 
keeper, a  stout  phlegmatic  individual,  who  helped  you 
on  with  your  overcoat,  accepted  tips  without  hesitation, 
no  matter  how  large  the  amount,  and  seemed  the  most 
unlikely  man  in  the  world  to  be  disturbed  by  anything. 
But  it  was  the  dignified  people  that  bolted  on  this 
occasion  with  the  most  undignified  haste.  A  week 
later  I  met  some  of  them  at  Chin-wan-tao,  a  hundred 
miles  from  Port  Arthur,  still  running,  still  breathless. 
I  don't  believe  some  of  them  have  recovered  from  the 
shock  yet. 

I  do  not  blame  them,  however,  after  having  heard, 
from  one  of  those  who  did  not  bolt,  a  description  of 
his  sensations  on  feeling  that  in  all  Port  Arthur  there 
was  no  longer  any  protection  for  him,  that  the  strongest 
roof  could  resist  the  shells  as  little  as  a  paper  screen, 
and  that  a  projectile  might  fall  anywhere. 

The  Novi  Krai  newspaper  was,  as  I  have  already 
pointed  out,  perhaps  even  a  greater  opponent  of  the 
Japanese  than  Baron  Ginsberg  :  and  consequently  it 
was  but  poetic  justice,  I  suppose,  when  a  Japanese 
shell  broke  all  the  windows  in  its  office  and  wounded 
the  manager.      Although  most  of  its  staff  and  com- 


90  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

positors  were  drafted  into  the  army,  the  Novi  Krai 
continued  to  appear  until  the  end  of  the  war. 

The  overcrowding  on  the  trains  that  carried 
away  the  first  batches  of  fugitives  was  almost  in- 
credible. Inside  the  carriages,  people  were  packed 
on  top  of  one  another  like  herrings,  outside  they 
crowded  the  steps  all  night.  After  leaving  Port 
Arthur  the  conductor  requested  the  gentlemen  to 
leave  the  train  to  the  women  and  children  ;  but  the 
gentlemen  pointed  out  forcibly  that  many  of  the 
women  carried  large  packages,  which  should  be  thrown 
out  of  the  windows,  and  inveighed  with  tears  in  their 
eyes  against  the  cruelty  of  separating  husbands  from 
wives  and  brothers  from  sisters. 

Finally,  they  carried  their  point  and  were  allowed 
to  continue  their  journey.  Some  of  these  "  gentle- 
men "  were  in  such  a  state  of  panic  that,  as  I  have 
already  remarked,  even  in  Newchwang,  Shan-hai- 
kwan  and  Ching-wan-tao  they  hardly  felt  them- 
selves to  be  secure.  It  was  strange  the  effect  this 
panic  had  on  some  people.  Silent  men  became  loqua- 
cious, guarded  men  freely  disclosed  their  vulgarity 
and  self-conceit.  Most  of  them  seemed  to  attach  too 
much  value  to  their  lives.  For  example,  one  obscure 
individual  requested  me  to  telegraph  to  Europe,  as 
an  item  of  news  that  would  profoundly  interest  the 
public,  the  one  fact  that  he  was  safe. 

On  the  busy  little  commercial  world  of  Port  Arthur 
the  shells  of  Togo  had  something  like  the  effect  of  a 
Gabriel's  trumpet.  Business  people,  friends  of  mine, 
who  had  for  a  score  of  years  or  so  been  accustomed  to 
sit  behind  desks  with  pens  in  their  hands  and  ledgers 
before  them,  had  it  suddenly  borne  in  on  them  that 


INSIDE  PORT  ARTHUR  91 

there  are  other  things  in  life  besides  pens  and  ledgers 
and  £  s.  d., — that  there  is  war,  and  death.  One  of 
them  was  found,  hours  after  the  Japanese  had  with- 
drawn, rushing  northwards  without  hat  or  coat.  A 
clerk  of  the  Russo-Chinese  Bank  disappeared,  absent- 
mindedly,  with  a  very  large  sum  of  money.  The 
manager  of  a  big  firm  seized  all  the  spare  cash  in  the 
till  and  departed  with  the  observation  that  he  would 
stand  a  good  deal,  but  was  "  bio  wed"  if  he  would 
stand  that. 

On  the  whole,  the  genial  and  energetic  merchants 
of  Port  Arthur  did  not  cut  a  particularly  heroic  figure 
when  they  heard  the  voice  of  the  guns.  They 
scattered  like  a  flock  of  sheep  which  have  heard  the 
roar  of  the  lion. 


PART  II 
WITH  THE  ARMY 


CHAPTER   I 

I  JOIN  MISHCHENKO 

I  did  not  remain  long  in  Chefoo,  which,  after  its 
first  rude  awakening  on  the  night  of  February  9, 
had  become  one  of  the  drunkenest  places  in  the  Far 
East,  but  went  on  to  Newchwang  and  afterwards  to 
Mukden.  From  Mukden  I  went  to  Liaoyang  and 
from  Liaoyang  to  General  Count  Keller,  and  afterwards 
to  the  famous  Cossack  leader,  General  Mishchenko, 
whose  brigade  I  joined  in  preference  to  any  other 
section  of  the  army  because  I  had  always  heard 
Russians  talk  with  bated  breath  of  what  the  Cossacks 
were  going  to  do  to  the  Japanese. 

General  Mishchenko,  who  looks  like  a  typical  old 
Hungarian  hussar,  with  reddish,  protuberant  nose  and 
grey  hair  and  moustaches,  kindly  asked  me  to  stay  at 
his  headquarters,  eat  at  his  table,  and  put  up  wherever 
he  put  up. 

After  a  few  days  he  insisted  on  calling  me,  after  the 
kindly  Russian  fashion,  Franz  Yakovlovitch  ("  Francis 
son-of- James,"  James  being  my  father's  name),  and,  as 
his  officers  and  men  were  all  very  amiable,  my  sojourn 
among  those  famous  horsemen  forms  one  of  the 
pleasantest  experiences  in  my  life. 

On  the  day  after  I  joined  Mishchenko,  I  went  out  on 
a  reconnoitring  expedition,  and,  as  soon  as  I  returned 


96  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

to  camp,  the  battle  of  Ta-shih-chiao  began.  Through 
out  the  battle  I  remained  with  the  general  on  the 
artillery  position  ;  for,  instead  of  being  allowed  to  worry 
the  enemy  with  his  Cossacks,  Mishchenko  had  been 
ordered  to  remain  at  a  point  on  the  extreme  left  flank 
and  try  to  do  all  the  damage  he  could  with  his  artillery, 
and  these  tactics  he  pursued  until  the  close  of  the  year. 
In  fact  Mishchenko  is  not  a  cavalry  man  at  all ;  he  is  an 
artillery  officer.  I  may  here  remark  that  the  Cossack  is 
very  fond  of  cannon,  and  makes  a  skilful  artilleryman. 

After  the  battle  we  retreated  in  good  order,  fought 
an  action  of  the  same  kind  at  Haicheng,  and  again 
retreated. 

Then  came  the  battle  of  Liaoyang,  which  I  watched 
from  the  top  of  Shushan  hill.  Everybody  knows  that 
Shushan  is  a  triple-peaked  hill,  426  feet  high,  a  few 
miles  to  the  south  of  Liaoyang,  and  that  during  the 
battle  it  was  occupied  by  General  Baron  Stackelberg, 
with  whom,  instead  of  with  Mishchenko,  I  had 
decided,  by  way  of  a  change,  to  see  this  fight.  On 
August  30,  I  ascended  Shushan,  and  found  the  top 
cut  up  by  trenches  and  traversed  by  wire  entangle- 
ments, while  at  its  base  were  trous  de  loupy  fougasses 
and  every  other  species  of  field  defence  one  can  think 
of.  In  the  neighbourhood  there  were  over  a  hundred 
guns  in  position. 

On  the  level  ground,  almost  a  thousand  yards  to  the 
south-west  of  it,  ran  a  trench  filled  with  Russian  soldiers, 
and  towards  this  trench  I  saw  the  khaki- coated 
Japanese  advance,  evidently  with  the  intention  of 
turning  the  hill.  When  I  say  that  I  saw  the  Japanese 
I  mean  that  I  saw  here  and  there  a  khaki-clad  figure 
showing  clearly  for  a  second  or  so  against  the  green 


I  JOIN  MISHCHENKO  97 

fields.  These  infrequent  glimpses  were  enough  for  the 
scores  of  trained  eyes  that  were  watching  from  the 
top  of  Shushan.  Bang !  bang !  bang !  went  half  a 
dozen  batteries  at  once,  and  a  row  of  fleecy  shrapnel 
cloudlets  hung  low  over  the  kiaoliang  fields.  One  shell 
caught  about  a  score  of  men  as  they  crossed  a  road 
that  ran  between  the  trench  and  the  railway,  and  killed 
all  of  them.  The  picture  of  that  heap  of  corpses,  that 
muddy  road,  that  trench  with  its  bristling  rifles,  and 
that  railway  line,  is  so  branded  into  my  mind,  owing 
to  the  number  of  times  that  I  looked  at  it  through 
my  telescope,  that  there  are  few  spots  on  this  earth 
which  I  know  so  well.  Another  object  which  I  seem 
to  have  known  from  earliest  infancy  is  a  small  wooden 
house  built  alongside  the  railway  track  and  evidently 
intended  for  railway  men.  Outside  this  house,  which 
was  only  about  fifty  yards  distant  from  the  nearest 
Japanese,  were  a  few  Russian  soldiers,  whose  position 
was  precarious,  for  they  could  not  get  away  without 
being  exposed  for  several  hundred  yards  to  the  fire  of 
the  enemy.  It  was  almost  comical,  however,  to  see 
how  they  kept  peering  round  the  corner  to  see  if  the 
enemy  were  advancing. 

Meanwhile  the  latter  crept  forward  slowly,  oh  !  so 
slowly  !  until  they  were  within  almost  a  hundred  yards 
of  the  trench.  I  thought  that  they  would  then  make  a 
wild,  dramatic  rush  forwards,  but,  instead  of  that,  they 
lay  almost  twenty-four  hours  so  well  hidden  that  they 
must  have  burrowed  their  way  into  the  ground,  for  the 
Russians  had  beaten  down  all  the  kiaoliang  for 
hundreds  of  yards  in  front  of  the  trench. 

A  gigantic  pounding  and  booming  went  on  all  this 
time,  but  I  had  no  key  to  it.     It  was  like  listening  to 

G 


98  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

people  squabbling  in  an  unknown  tongue.  Feeling 
that  war  was  a  delusion,  I  went  to  sleep  that  night  in  a 
Chinese  hovel  at  the  foot  of  Shushan  ;  but  half  an  hour 
or  so  after  dozing  off  I  suddenly  awoke  with  the  roar 
of  imaginary  cannon  in  my  ears,  and  was  more  startled 
by  the  great  silence  than  if  a  whole  battery  had  been 
thundering  beside  me. 

About  the  middle  of  the  night  I  was  awakened  by 
the  rattle  of  real  musketry,  evidently  very  near.  Some 
of  the  Russian  officers  who  were  sleeping  in  the  same 
hut  with  me  got  up,  lighted  candles,  and  moved  about 
uneasily,  in  the  attitudes  of  men  listening  for  the 
approach  of  a  visitor ;  but  none  of  them  went  outside, 
and  finally  the  firing  died  out,  and  we  all  went  to  sleep 
again. 

At  daybreak  on  Wednesday  morning,  August  31, 
I  was  awakened  by  a  cannonade,  so  loud  and  so 
continuous  that  I  rushed  out  of  the  house  in  a 
panic.  The  scene  was  enthralling,  It  was  a  beautiful 
dawn.  The  sky  was  perfectly  clear  of  clouds.  The 
moon  shone  brightly,  and  alongside  it  burned  one 
brilliant  star.  There  was  just  enough  darkness  in  the 
air  to  set  off  to  the  best  advantage  the  bright,  con- 
tinuous flashes  of  shrapnel,  and  enough  of  the  rosy 
light  of  dawn  to  make  the  smoke  of  the  bursting  pro- 
jectiles look  like  the  soft  fleecy  cloudlets  from  which 
angel  heads  emerge  in  a  famous  painting  of  Murillo. 
Over  the  whole  scene  was  spread  the  estilo  vaporoso 
of  that  great  master.  It  was  a  morn  on  which  the 
Holy  Child  might  have  appeared  to  St.  Antony. 

I  climbed  Shushan,  and  gazed  from  that  elevated 
point  on  a  scene  of  rare  beauty.  The  great  plain  of 
the  Liao-ho  was  covered  with  a  layer  of  mist  which, 


I  JOIN  MISHCHENKO  99 

touched  by  the  rays  of  the  sun,  had  the  appearance  of 
a  silver  sea,  out  of  which  rose  on  the  north  the  famous 
old  pagoda  of  Liaoyang  and  the  glittering  walls  and 
gates  of  what  almost  seemed  to  be  the  Holy  City.  In 
an  hour  or  so  this  great  white  carpet  had  been  rolled 
up  for  the  day,  and  the  rich  plain  was  flooded  with 
sunshine,  but  as  yet  no  living  thing  was  visible.  The 
spectators  were  present,  but  the  stage  was  empty. 

On  the  central  peak  of  Shushan  General  Baron 
Stackelberg  had  installed  himself  in  a  ruined  Korean 
tower,  from  which  ran  a  number  of  telephone  wires. 
I  was  on  the  eastern  peak  with  Colonel  Waters,  the 
British  military  attache,  and  Captain  Reichman,  the 
American  attache.  An  alleged  bomb-proof  had  been 
constructed  close  by  for  the  use  of  the  attaches,  but  we 
all  preferred  to  shelter  ourselves  behind  a  huge  mass 
of  rock  which  projected  on  the  southern  side  of  the 
peak,  and  over  the  shoulder  of  which  we  had  a  very 
good  view  of  all  that  was  going  on  below. 

Bullets  had  whistled  overhead  all  day  on  Tuesday, 
and  many  shells  had  exploded  against  the  southern 
face  of  this  rock.  We  therefore  thought  that  the 
place  was  not  quite  safe,  which  was  true,  for  on 
Tuesday  alone  3000  men  had  been  killed  in  that  part 
of  the  field  by  shrapnel.  On  Wednesday  we  had  still 
more  reason  to  think  so.  Early  that  morning  Colonel 
Waters  had  cheered  us  with  the  intelligence  that  the 
Japanese  would  infallibly  work  round  on  the  west,  and 
shell  us  from  that  direction;  and,  sure  enough,  at  1 1  a.m. 
Captain  Reichman  saw  the  flash  of  a  Japanese  gun  due 
west  of  us.  It  seemed  at  first,  however,  as  if  shrapnel, 
the  invention  of  the  white  man,  shrank  from  rending 
its  parent.     It  was  marvellous  and  incredible  how  it 


too  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

missed.   It  seemed  to  choose  every  open  space  it  could 
find,  but  at  last  its  yellow  master  forced  it  to  obey. 

Shortly  after  eleven  o'clock,  shells  began  to  burst  in 
rapid  succession  on  the  north  side  of  the  rock.  Soon 
it  had  become  a  regular  downpour  of  exploding  steel, 
and  all  the  people  that  were  on  the  mountain  trembled. 
Black  masses  of  smoke  seemed  to  spurt  out  of  the 
earth  like  geysers.  Snowy  puffs  of  shrapnel  surrounded 
the  summit.  Balls  whistled  past  like  an  equinoctial 
wind.  Batteries  big  and  little  thundered  and  shrieked. 
We  realised  with  horror  and  dismay  that  Shushan  had 
suddenly  become  the  pivot  of  the  battle,  the  centre  of 
the  whole  gigantic  contest.  It  was  a  bombardment  of 
hell.  The  roar  waxed  louder  and  louder,  and  the  whole 
mount  quaked  greatly.  It  seemed  as  if  the  Japanese 
meant  to  pulverise  it.  I  could  not  hear  myself  speak, 
but  I  fancied  I  could  hear  the  pounding  of  my  heart. 
I  developed  an  intense  desire  to  get  away,  but  I  could 
no  more  let  go  that  rock  than  a  drowning  man  can  let 
go  a  straw  that  he  has  grasped.  I  had  squeezed  my 
person  into  the  smallest  possible  compass  at  its  base, 
and  every  time  a  shell  burst  close  to  me  I  backed  up 
against  that  hundred-ton  cliff  with  such  violence  that 
I  feared  I  should  knock  it  down.  For  days  afterwards 
I  was  unable  to  account  for  those  bruises  on  my  back. 
I  knew  that  it  was  dangerous  to  be  near  that  rock,  as 
the  Japanese  were  probably  using  it  as  a  mark  to  shoot 
by,  but  I  saw  that  the  path  leading  down  the  hill  was 
more  dangerous  still,  for  shells  were  bursting  on  it 
every  few  minutes.  The  old  Korean  tower  which 
sheltered  General  Stackelberg  was  hit  again  and  again, 
and  the  telephone  wires  were  cut  in  a  dozen  places. 
Colonel  Waters  got  a  bullet  hole  in  his  cloak.     Before 


I  JOIN  MISHCHENKO  101 

long  we  saw  General  Stackelberg  totter  feebly  down 
the  hill,  upheld  on  either  side  by  two  officers  and 
followed  by  a  retinue  of  bursting  projectiles.  He  had 
sustained  a  concussion,  his  face  was  as  white  as  paper, 
and  he  was  barely  able  to  walk. 

The  departure  of  the  general  made  a  most  gloomy 
impression  on  me.  I  felt  as  some  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Sodom  must  after  all  have  felt  in  their  secret  hearts 
when  they  saw  the  wise  man  Lot  go  forth  from  their 
city. 

A  curse  appeared  to  hang  over  that  mountain. 
Everybody  seemed  to  have  now  deserted  it.  I  felt  it 
tremble  beneath  me.  "  God  knows  what's  going  to 
happen  now,"  said  I,  for  the  twentieth  time  in  forty 
minutes.  "  Hadn't  we  better  clear  out  of  this  ?  "  I 
was  fully  convinced — although  I  did  not  like  to  say  so 
in  presence  of  the  military  men — that  the  enemy  had 
undermined  Shusan  and  that  it  would  go  sky-high  in 
a  few  moments.  I  fancied  I  heard  the  subterranean 
sound  of  picks. 

"These  Japs  will  storm  the  hill,"  whispered  Captain 
Reichman  hoarsely,  adding,  with  extreme  emphasis, 
"  No  d d  thing  can  stop  them  !  " 

I  glanced  quickly  over  my  shoulder,  for  there  rose 
before  me  a  swift  vision  of  a  wave  of  roaring  fanatics 
with  blood-stained  bayonets  cresting  the  rock  above 
us. 

Previous  to  this  I  had  been  wounded  in  the  hand, 
and  at  last  I  decided  to  leave  this  doomed  peak,  which 
the  Japanese  seemed  bent  on  smashing  to  atoms.  A 
Russian  column  had  now  come  round  on  the  right. 
We  could  hear  their  brass  band  playing  and  their  wild 
"  Ura  !  ura !  ura !  "   but   it   was  impossible  to  look  at 


io2  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 


them  over  the  shoulder  of  the  rock,  as  shells  were 
bursting  there  every  minute.  I  would  have  given  a 
year  of  my  life  for  one  glance  at  the  spectacle  below — 
the  most  terrible  of  all  war's  terrible  sights — the 
spectacle  of  a  great  bayonet  charge  ;  but  the  price 
demanded  was  too  high.      It  was  my  life  itself. 

In  the  intervals  between  the  explosions  we  heard 
behind  us  a  sound  as  of  broken  potsherds.  It  was 
caused  by  shell-cases  and  fragments  of  shell  rolling 
down  the  rocky  face  of  the  mountain.  The  colonel, 
the  captain  and  myself  finally  decided  to  make  a  com- 
bined rush  for  it.  I  broke  away,  however,  with  the 
intention  of  rescuing  an  ink-bottle  and  some  writing- 
paper  which  I  had  left^in  the  bomb-proof ;  but,  while  I 
stood  hesitating  outside,  uncertain  whether  to  enter  or 
not,  a  shell  burst  with  a  deafening  roar  in  the  very 
doorway. 

Amid  the  resultant  smoke  and  dust  I  saw  several 
pairs  of  soldiers'  legs,  but  did  not  stop  long  enough  to 
see  if  they  were  connected  with  bodies  or  not.  I  must 
have  flown  down  that  mountain  like  a  bird,  for  two 
minutes  afterwards  I  found  myself  sitting  on  the  plain 
at  the  base  of  it,  about  half  a  mile  off.  I  was  covered 
with  clay,  had  lost  my  hat  and  one  boot,  and  was 
getting  my  hand  re-bandaged  in  a  German-speaking 
Red  Cross  Hospital,  which  consisted  of  several  large 
straw  mats  spread  on  the  ground  and  covered  with 
half-naked,  moaning  men. 

The  neighbourhood  was  littered  with  bandages,  top- 
boots  that  had  been  cut  from  wounded  legs,  and  strips 
of  dirty  and  blood-stained  shirts  and  "rubashkas." 
The  mats  were  splashed  with  blood,  and  on  the 
ground  alongside  them  lay  two  soldiers  whose  wounds 


I  JOIN  MISHCHENKO  103 

were  so  bad  that  they  were  unconscious  and  had  only 
a  few  moments  to  live.  Their  faces  were  covered  by 
a  piece  of  a  muddy  bag  to  which  clung  some  oats, 
and  I  noticed  that  the  breast  of  one  of  them  rose  and 
fell. 

Others — dead  men — presented  a  terribly  squalid 
and  repulsive  appearance  as  they  were  thrown  into 
carts.  A  line  of  Red  Cross  vehicles  stretched  without 
a  break  from  Shushan  to  Liaoyang. 

Some  wounded  officers  were  being  held  out  like  little 
children,  as,  with  pitiful  moans,  they  discharged  the 
offices  of  nature.  I  suddenly  found  that  I  was  sitting 
in  a  large  black  hole  in  the  ground.  It  had  been 
made  by  a  shell,  and  other  shells  were  falling  all 
around.  Some  vindictive  god  seemed,  like  the 
executioners  of  St.  Sebastian  in  the  famous  painting 
of  Pollaiuoli,  to  be  purposely  planting  his  dread 
missiles  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  injure  us  mortally, 
so  that  we  might  experience  the  greatest  possible 
measure  of  anguish  before  receiving  the  final,  irre- 
vocable blow. 

Finally,  Colonel  Waters  and  Captain  Reichman 
left  me  in  order  to  follow  Stackelberg,  and,  lest  I 
forget  it,  I  take  this  opportunity  of  thanking  these  two 
brave  men,  representing  the  two  great  sections  of  mine 
own  people,  for  the  kindness  they  showed  me  on  this 
trying  occasion. 

It  was  now  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  the 
Japanese  were  about  to  deliver  their  grand  attack. 
We  had  been  caught  in  the  preparatory  artillery  fire 
which  was  concentrated  on  Shushan,  and  which  Colonel 
Waters,  a  calm,  well-read  observer,  declares  to  have 
been  the  hottest  artillery   fire   in  the  history  of  the 


io4  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

world,  "as  hot,"  he  says,  u  as  the  musketry  fire  in 
skirmishing  line." 

When  I  viewed  Shushan  from  the  foot  of  the  hill  I 
failed  to  understand  how  we  had  managed  to  escape 
alive.  The  mountain  stood  out  dark  and  lone  against 
a  blood-red  patch  of  sky.  The  gathering  darkness 
menaced  it.  Its  triple  summit  was  encircled  by  a 
crown  of  bursting  shrapnel.  Girt  by  thunders  and 
lightnings,  it  recalled  the  Biblical  description  of  Sinai. 
Some  terrible  god  seemed  to  have  descended  on  it  in 
fire  and  smoke.  The  ruined  tower  was  struck  every 
ten  or  twenty  minutes,  and,  each  time,  a  cloud  of  dust 
and  smoke  shot  upwards  from  it  like  the  cheer  of  a 
great  multitude. 

I  watched  it,  awe-stricken,  as  a  man  who  escapes  from 
a  wrecked  ship  watches  the  waves  rush  foaming  over  the 
masthead.  Surely,  I  said  to  myself,  nothing,  whether  it 
be  beast  or  man,  can  live  in  such  a  downpour.  The  sky 
was  filled  with  a  soft,  translucent  mist,  which  I  had 
hitherto  supposed  to  be  characteristic  of  a  Japanese 
evening  alone,  and  a  picket  of  Ural  Cossacks,  who 
had  happened  just  then  to  ride  along  some  rising 
ground  to  the  west,  were  glorified  for  a  moment  into 
archangels  as  they  passed  through  this  delicate  veil  of 
vapour,  and  as  the  picturesque  outlines  of  themselves 
and  their  horses  and  lances  stood  out  clearly  against 
the  gorgeous  west. 

In  that  blood-red  sky,  apparently  right  over  the 
heads  of  the  Cossacks,  but  in  reality  some  versts 
to  the  south-west,  there  were  suddenly  three  beautiful 
flashes  of  white  light,  as  if  a  magnesium  ribbon  had 
been  burnt — no,  there  were  four,  five,  six,  seven — 
seven  beautiful  bursts  of  shrapnel  light,  which  were 


1  JOIN  MISHCHENKO  105 

instantly  succeeded  by  small  puffs  of  brownish  yellow 
smoke  that  dissolved  gracefully. 

In  the  north-west  hung  a  huge  black  bank  of  clouds, 
presaging  a  thunderstorm  ;  and  against  this  inky  back- 
ground the  lightning  played  almost  perpetually.  As 
yet  there  was  no  thunder,  but  the  thunder  came  later. 

The  approaching  storm  brought  on  night  pre- 
maturely ;  but  the  sunlight  which  was  quenched  was 
replaced  by  the  red  flare  from  two  villages  near 
Liaoyang,  which  the  Russians  had  set  on  fire. 

Half-way  between  Liaoyang  and  Shushan,  but  a 
little  to  the  west,  is  a  grove  of  trees,  under  which 
General  Kuropatkin,  mounted  on  a  white  horse  and 
surrounded  by  his  staff  and  his  body-guard  of  Amur 
Cossacks  halted  while  the  Russian  reserves  advanced 
against  the  Japanese  who  were  threatening  their 
right  flank. 

Meanwhile  the  roar  of  the  artillery  had  redoubled 
in  violence.  Darkness  was  closing  in,  and  the  guns 
thundered  with  great  wrath,  because  they  knew  that 
they  had  but  a  short  time.  And  when  they  had 
reached  a  pitch  of  loudness  that  seemed  impossible  to 
be  exceeded,  some  big  angry  battery  would  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  give  vent  to  a  series  of  terrific 
shrieks  that  seemed  calculated  to  split  the  mountain 
from  base  to  summit. 

At  length  the  long-threatening  thunderstorm  burst, 
and,  as  if  awed  by  the  wrath  of  heaven,  the  earthly 
artillery  gradually  ceased,  the  last  flashes  of  the 
shrapnel  bursting  in  the  darkness  above  Shushan  as 
if  to  emphasise  the  importance  of  that  position.  A 
diminished  rifle-fire  afterwards  continued  at  intervals, 
but  finally  there  was  silence. 


106  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

As  the  village  at  the  foot  of  Shushan  in  which  I  had 
slept  the  night  before,  was  on  fire,  I  determined  to 
return  to  Liaoyang  in  the  darkness,  not  thinking  of 
what  an  extremely  dangerous  thing  it  was  to  do  on 
such  a  night.  The  rain  was  coming  down  in  torrents, 
and  my  horse  had  not  floundered  far  through  the 
sticky  mud  when  I  heard  a  voice  cry  :  "  Kto  idyot  ?  " 
(Who  goes  there  ?)  I  answered  :  "  Svoi  "  (of  yours), 
as  I  had  been  accustomed  to  do  in  Port  Arthur ;  but, 
whether  it  was  because  this  was  not  the  password  or 
because  of  my  foreign  accent,  the  sentry  refused  to  let 
me  proceed.  "  Nelzya  !  "  (Impossible  !)  he  said,  and 
when  I  pressed  him  he  kindly  pointed  out  to  me 
another  road,  a  road  which  led  to  an  intrenched 
position,  where  I  stood  a  good  chance  of  getting  shot 
if  I  employed  my  "  Svoi." 

I  thanked  him,  and  went  in  the  direction  indicated, 
but  I  had  not  gone  far  before  I  was  brought  to  a  halt 
by  another  "  Kto  idyot  ?  "  more  emphatic  than  the  pre- 
vious one.  My  password  was  an  even  greater  failure 
this  time,  for  it  led  to  my  immediate  arrest.  In  fact 
if  I  had  told  the  sentry  I  was  a  Japanese  officer 
he  could  not  have  shown  greater  promptness  in 
arresting  me.  He  rushed  forward,  and,  catching 
hold  of  the  bridle  of  my  horse,  questioned  me 
further. 

II  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  asked  fiercely. 

"  A  war  correspondent,"  I  answered  mildly,  aware 
that  among  military  men  it  is  not  a  name  to  conjure 
with. 

"  A  war  correspondent?  "  he  repeated,  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  has  had  a  new  word  added  to  his 
vocabulary.     "  Are  you  Chinese  ?  " 


I  JOIN  MISHCHENKO  107 

I  told  him  my  nationality,  but  he  was  still  dis- 
satisfied. 

Having  made  me  dismount,  he  passed  his  hand  over 
my  chin,  and,  finding  that  I  had  no  hair  on  my  face, 
he  jumped  back  with  an  oath  and  was  near  bayonet- 
ting  me  on  the  spot.  I  must  surely  be  a  Japanese. 
On  my  imploring  him  to  bring  me  to  some  of  his 
superiors,  he  at  last  conducted  me  to  a  place  where  I 
was  told  that  I  would  find  a  captain.  With  him 
went  several  rough  voices,  the  owners  of  which  I 
could  not  see. 

I  was  glad  that  he  consented  to  conduct  me  to  the 
captain,  as  I  had  now  fully  realised  my  danger,  and 
had  seen  that  it  would  take  very  little  to  make  these 
frightened,  ignorant  men  shoot  or  stab  me.  "The 
captain/'  I  said  to  myself,  4<  will  understand  the 
situation  perfectly,  and  release  me  at  once."  In  this 
I  made  a  great  mistake,  for  the  captain  turned  out  to 
be  twenty  times  as  scared  as  the  soldiers.  He  was 
standing  with  a  number  of  men  in  a  post  a  few  paces 
off  the  path  on  which  I  was  walking  with  my  guard ; 
and  when  I  heard  his  high-pitched,  nervous  voice  call 
out  in  the  darkness  asking  us  what  was  the  matter,  I 
began  to  fear  that  it  was  all  up  with  me,  and  my 
imagination  became  feverishly  active.  I  felt  a  bayonet 
thrust  savagely  into  the  pit  of  my  stomach,  I  felt  the 
point  come  with  a  terrific  jar  against  my  backbone.  I 
was  smashed  brutally  over  the  head  with  a  clubbed 
rifle.  I  heard  my  skull  give  way  beneath  the  blow. 
I  saw  myself  lying  on  the  ground,  in  a  dying  con- 
dition, my  bandaged  hand  twitching  feebly.  I  saw 
in  the  newspapers  a  brief  paragraph  which  said  that 
I  had  been  killed  by  a  Japanese  shell. 


io8  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

When  the  circumstances  of  my  arrest  were  related  to 
the  captain  he  became  frenzied  with  excitement. 

"  Bring  him  in  !  Bring  him  in  !  "  he  cried,  waving 
his  hands  like  a  maniac.  "  He's  a  spy.  He's  a 
Japanese.  See  that  he  has  got  no  weapons.  A  re- 
volver. He's  sure  to  have  a  revolver.  Search  him 
carefully.  Hold  his  hands  tight.  He's  a  dangerous 
fellow." 

A  soldier  now  got  on  each  side  of  me  and  held  my 
arms,  at  the  same  time  guiding  me  along  a  narrow 
passage  which  ran  between  two  deep  trenches.  I  saw 
that  I  was  being  brought  into  a  covered  work  with 
parapets,  traverses  and  bomb-proofs.  A  sentinel 
casually  waved  a  lantern  towards  a  row  of  black 
yawning  trous  de  loup  with  sharpened  stakes  at  the 
bottom.  I  felt  all  the  terror  of  a  man  being  led  into 
an  oubliette.  The  rear  was  brought  up  by  the  excited 
captain,  who  kept  gesticulating  and  ejaculating  all  the 
time. 

As  we  passed  over  a  narrow  plank  traversing  a  deep 
ditch,  and  descended  into  a  small  court  beneath  the 
surface  of  the  ground,  I  felt  that  my  life  was  in  great 
danger,  and  I  was  confirmed  in  my  worst  fears  when, 
in  the  light  of  the  dark  lanterns  that  were  flashed  in 
my  face,  1  saw  the  captain.  He  was  a  thin,  nervous- 
looking  man,  with  a  sparse,  sandy-coloured  beard  and 
grey  eyes  that  bulged  in  his  head  as  he  looked  at  me. 
I  realised  that  long-continued  fatigue  and  excitement, 
combined  with  want  of  food  and  sleep,  had  reduced 
him  to  a  condition  of  nervousness  little  removed  from 
lunacy  ;  and  unfortunately  his  nervousness  had 
evidently  infected  the  ignorant  soldiers,  who  formed  a 
ring  around  me,  and  on  whose  white,  scared  faces  I 


I 


I  JOIN  MISHCHENKO  109 

could  read  no  more  trace  of  pity  than  a  tiger  might 
see  on  the  faces  of  a  ring  of  hunters. 

Fortunately,  a  different  type  of  officer  happened  to 
be  in  the  fort  at  the  time.  This  was  the  chief  of 
staff  of  the  Second  Army  Corps,  as  well  as  I  can 
remember,  an  urbane,  highly-refined,  cool-headed 
officer,  speaking  French  and  German  as  fluently  as  he 
spoke  his  mother  tongue.  It  took  me  about  three 
minutes  to  satisfy  this  officer  that  I  was  what  I  pre- 
tended to  be  ;  and  then,  over  a  glass  of  wine  and  some 
biscuits,  he  informed  me  that  all  Englishmen  were  mad 
for  exposing  themselves  to  danger  when  there  was  no 
necessity  for  it,  and  explained  to  me,  in  a  tone  of  philo- 
sophic aloofness,  the  greatness  of  the  risk  I  had  run. 

M  These  soldiers,"  said  he,  waving  his  biscuit  in  a 
semicircle,  "  are  from  Europe  and  have  not  been  long 
here,  so  that  they  know  nothing  of  correspondents. 
Then,  your  dress  and  the  fact  that  you  are  a  foreigner 
found  in  the  heart  of  a  Russian  encampment  on  the 
night  after  a  battle  and  while  the  enemy  are  expected 
to  make  an  attack  at  any  moment,  might  well  have 
cost  you  your  life. 

"lam  surprised,"  he  added,  in  a  dreamy,  meditative 
tone,  "that  you  were  not  shot,  especially  as  two 
Japanese  officers  accompanied  by  some  Chinese  did 
actually  enter  our  camp  last  night  and  were  killed. 
Hullo!     What's  that?" 

At  this  moment  the  silence  of  the  night  was 
brusquely  torn  by  a  volley  of  musketry,  followed 
instantly  by  another  and  another.  Outside,  it  was  as 
black  as  pitch,  the  rain  was  falling  fast,  but  the  continual 
flash  of  the  rifles  lit  up  white  faces  which  gleamed  in 
the  distance  like   foam  on  the   crest   of  a  breaking 


no  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

wave.  The  Japanese  were  coming  on,  coming  on, 
coming  on. 

Between  the  startling  r-r-r-rip !  r-r-r-r-rip  !  r-r-r-r-r- 
rip,  r-r-r-r-r-r-rip !  of  the  volleys  there  comes  to  us 
faintly  the  notes  of  a  distant,  savage  chant  of  banzai  ! 
banzai  !  banzai  ! 

It  is  like  the  cry  of  wild,  invulnerable  tribes!  It  is 
like  the  defiant  shriek  of  Dervishes !  It  swells  on  the 
air  like  a  fierce  Oriental  Marseillaise.  In  this  abrupt, 
staccato  roar  is  something  foreign,  repugnant,  disquiet- 
ing. It  does  not  belong  to  the  European  brotherhood. 
It  does  not  come  from  Christian  lips.  It  does  not 
even  seem  to  come  from  human  beings.  It  reminds 
me  of  the  fierce  Allah  il  Allah  !  Allah  il  Allah  !  that 
I  used  to  hear  in  Mahommedan  cities.  It  recalls  the 
mad  monotonous  chant  of  Hosein  el  Hosa  !  Hosein 
el  Hosa  !  on  the  anniversary  of  Kerbela.  It  evokes 
memories  of  India.  It  recalls  the  horrors  I  had  heard 
in  my  cradle  of  Nana  Sahib  and  the  mutineers  of 
Lucknow.  With  a  start  I  recollect  that  these  faces, 
which  shine  white  in  the  flash  of  the  Russian  rifles,  are 
the  faces  of  Orientals,  that  this  cry  is  for  the  blood  of 
white  men.  It  is  not  the  cry  of  Frenchmen  or 
Germans.  It  is  something  infinitely  more  disquieting 
and  significant.  It  is  the  cry  of  that  strange  and 
monstrous  Asia  with  which  Europe  has  been  at  feud 
for  thrice  a  thousand  years.  It  demands  vengeance  not 
only  for  Port  Arthur  but  for  Kagoshima  and  Shim- 
onoseki,  nay,  more,  for  Salamis,  for  the  Pink  Forbidden 
City,  for  the  Red  River,  for  Plassy,  for  Kandahar,  for 
Mindanao. 

Oh,  England  !  Oh,  my  country  !  What  deed  is  this 
thou  hast  done  ? 


I  JOIN  MISHCHENKO  in 

Meanwhile  I  most  fervently  thanked  God  that  I  had 
come  into  contact  with  the  excited  captain  before  this 
attack  began.  The  officers  around  me  were  naturally 
excited  by  these  terrible  sights  and  sounds,  and,  rising 
unceremoniously,  told  me  that  I  was  free  to  go  wherever 
I  liked.  But  I  was  now  in  no  mind  to  go,  and  I  pointed 
out  to  them  that  if,  according  to  their  own  account,  I 
stood  a  good  chance  of  being  shot  by  a  sentry  before  this 
attack  began,  I  stood  a  still  better  chance  now  that  the 
Japanese  bullets  were  actually  whistling  overhead  and 
the  sentries  were  all  in  a  state  of  intense  nervousness. 
They  said  that  they  would  send  a  soldier  with  me  to 
the  main  road,  a  few  hundred  yards  off ;  but  I  answered 
that  this  was  not  good  enough,  the  soldier  would  have 
to  come  with  me  all  the  way  to  the  city,  else  I  would 
rather  prefer  to  sleep  in  the  trench  all  night.  Without 
deciding  one  way  or  another  they  went  away,  leaving 
me  sitting  there  ;  but  in  about  an  hour  the  chief  of  staff 
came  back  and  told  me  that  on  account  of  the  serious- 
ness of  this  attack,  he  was  going  personally  to  head- 
quarters in  Liaoyang.  Would  I  come  with  him  ? 
Of  course  I  would  go  with  him. 

We  reached  the  town  without  any  mishap,  and,  on 
the  way,  my  companion  genially  pointed  out  to  me 
four  different  places  where  I  would  have  been  shot  if 
I  had  tried  to  pass  alone  without  the  countersign. 

About  the  time  I  was  arrested,  the  Russians 
evacuated  Shushan. 

Next  morning  I  went  east  with  Mishchenko,  to  cut 
off  Kuroki.  I  was  with  Rennenkampf  in  the  attack 
on  Pen-shi-hu,  in  October,  and  on  this  occasion  I 
crossed  the  Taitsze  river  with  a  band  of  Cossacks,  who 
advanced  further  south  than  any  other  section  of  the. 


ii2  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 


Russian  army,  and  succeeded  for  a  time  in  severing 
all  connection  between  Kuroki  and  the  gallant  little 
Japanese  force  that  held  Pen-shi-hu.  After  the  battle 
of  the  Shaho  I  again  joined  Mishchenko.  I  had  now 
two  Cossack  orderlies  ("  vyestovo'i"),  one  Philipoff,  a 
Siberian  from  Verkhnyudinsk,  whose  business  it  was 
to  ride  with  me  ;  and  the  other  a  Buriat,  who  was 
charged  with  the  care  of  my  baggage. 

Philipoff  was  a  lad  of  twenty-two,  and  he  reminded 
me  very  much  of  a  strong,  healthy,  farmer's  son  in 
England,  only  that  he  was  not  quite  so  clean.  In  the 
morning,  it  is  true,  his  face  shone  like  a  schoolboy's  if 
water  was  handy  and  it  was  not  too  cold,  and  he 
always  kept  his  teeth  as  white  as  if  he  were  a 
Japanese  ;  but  I  never  knew  his  ablutions  to  extend 
as  far  as  the  back  of  his  neck,  save  when  he  went 
to  the  steam  bath  which  the  Cossacks  always  estab- 
lished in  a  village  where  they  were  likely  to  remain 
any  length  of  time. 

Philipoff  had  the  usual  big  sword,  top  boots,  trousers 
with  a  broad  yellow  band  running  down  each  leg  ;  and, 
cocked  on  his  peculiar  Cossack  saddle,  with  a  rifle 
at  his  back,  this  youngster  was  worth  more  to  me  than 
a  cartload  of  duly  stamped  and  sealed  official  docu- 
ments. In  short,  he  was  a  passport  to  every  place 
over  which  the  Russian  eagles  waved.  Other  corre- 
spondents, who  had  got  all  sorts  of  special  permits, 
but  who  had  no  Cossack,  were  arrested  at  every  step 
by  soldiers  who  could  not  read  ;  and  even  the  attaches 
were  not  half  as  grand  as  I,  for  they  had  only  got 
clumsy  infantrymen  whom  they  themselves  supplied 
with  horses. 

Philipoff  had  left  a  young  wife  at  home,  but  had  as 


I  JOIN  MISHCHENKO  113 

yet  no  children.  The  down  of  boyhood  was  still  on 
his  lip,  and,  except  where  horses  were  concerned,  he 
was  as  simple  as  a  child.  As  soon  as  he  was  placed 
under  my  orders  he  cautiously  entreated  me  to  take 
him  to  see  Mukden,  the  glories  of  which  ancient  capital 
he  had  only  as  yet  contemplated  from  the  train  which 
had  brought  him,  some  months  before,  from  Harbin  to 
Liaoyang.  His  longing  to  gaze  on  the  ancient  seat  of 
the  Manchus  was  like  that  of  Jude  the  Obscure  to  see 
Christminster ;  and,  of  course,  I  at  once  brought  him 
to  Mukden,  where  he  was  as  happy  as  if  it  were  Paris. 
I  was  at  first  afraid,  after  all  the  terrible  things  that  I  had 
heard  about  the  Cossacks,  that  he  would  promptly  get 
drunk  and  perhaps  assault  me  ;  but  never  once  during 
the  six  months  we  passed  together  did  this  Russian 
lad  get  intoxicated  or  give  me  the  slightest  cause  for 
dissatisfaction.  He  confessed  to  me,  however,  that  he 
had  got  drunk  once  in  his  life,  i.e.,  at  his  "  knyazhenet- 
sky  stol  "  (princely  table),  which  high-sounding  name 
the  Cossack  gives  to  his  wedding-breakfast.  He  never 
tried  to  make  a  "  kopeck  "  of  profit  on  the  many  com- 
missions with  which  I  charged  him,  and  he  used  to 
tell  me  how  disgusted  he  was  at  the  way  Chinese 
"  mahfus  "  (grooms)  of  other  correspondents  defrauded 
their  masters  and  starved  their  masters'  horses.  I 
think  it  is  not  egotistical  of  me  to  say  that  my  horses 
were  always  in  the  pink  of  condition,  for  it  is  Philipoff 
that  deserves  the  credit. 

From  all  that  Philipoff  told  me  about  the  Trans- 
baikal  Cossacks,  and  from  what  I  saw  of  them  with 
my  own  eyes,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  these 
much-maligned  horsemen  are  gentle,  inoffensive  far- 
mers' sons,  who  do  not  like  war  at  all,  who  are  apt  to 

H 


it4  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

fall  asleep  at  any  time  in  the  day  (Pushkin  notes  that 
characteristic  in  his  "  Prisoner  of  the  Caucasus  "),  and 
whose  only  ambition  is  to  till  their  fields,  sing  songs, 
and  live  happily  with  their  wives,  for  all  of  them  are 
married.  And  yet  these  simple  lads  are  the  folk  of 
whom  a  Frenchman  wrote  in  1814,  "  le  viol,  le  meurtre, 
le  fer,  le  vol,  le  pillage,  l'incendie,  le  carnage,  tous  les 
maux  de  la  terre,  leur  sont  familiers.  Le  recit  de  la 
ferocite  de  ces  barbares  fait  fremir  la  nature." 

As  for  their  officers  and  for  Russian  officers  in 
general,  they  are  an  extraordinarily  hospitable  and 
genial  people.  It  would  almost  seem  as  if  Russian 
officers  were  influenced  by  that  beautiful  superstition, 
which  still  prevails  among  the  Russian  peasants,  that 
one  must  never  refuse  to  offer  hospitality  lest  he 
repulse  angels  unawares. 

Scores  of  times  throughout  the  course  of  the  war,  I 
lost  touch  with  Mishchenko's  detachment,  and  in  such 
cases  I  had  to  rely  on  the  hospitality  of  strange  officers 
whom  I  happened  to  meet  with.  As  a  rule  I  did  not 
know  these  officers,  and  my  "udostoverenie"  gave  me 
no  claim  on  them  whatever,  but  nevertheless  their 
treatment  of  me  was  invariably  very  kind. 

Again  and  again  have  I  arrived  when  the  officers 
were  making  a  meagre  dinner  of  a  few  tins  of  Russian 
preserves — a  quarter  of  one  small  tin,  say,  to  each 
man — and,  although  I  have  never  been  regarded  as 
an  entertaining  individual,  they  always  hailed  my  ad- 
vent as  gladly  as  if  I  had  brought  them  a  fresh  supply 
of  provisions  and  a  case  of  vodka. 

I  sometimes  stumbled  on  them  in  the  early  morning 
at  an  hour  when  no  society  tolerates  callers,  and  when 
some  of  them  were  in  bed  and  some  of  them  walking 


I  JOIN  MISHCHENKO  115 

about  in  their  pyjamas,  but  it  never  made  any  differ- 
ence in  the  manner  of  their  reception.  On  such  occa- 
sions they  did  not  shake  hands — for  in  the  morning 
the  Russians  do  not  shake  hands  until  after  they  have 
washed — but  the  loud,  cheery  tones  in  which  they  said, 
first,  "  Z  dobrym  utram  "  (good  morning),  and  then, 
without  pausing  to  take  breath,  "stakan  chai  paja- 
luista?"  (a  cup  of  tea,  please?)  were  as  brimful  of 
friendly  feeling  as  they  could  possibly  be. 

On  such  occasions  I  have  seen  officers  produce 
cherished  stores  of  sweetmeats,  a  precious  tin  of  butter, 
or  a  last  box  of  chocolate — objects  worth  their  weight 
in  gold  at  such  a  time — and  place  them  in  front  of  the 
visitor  whose  name  they  did  not  know,  and  whom  they 
never  expected  to  encounter  again.  If  these  pages 
happen  to  meet  the  eyes  of  any  Russian  who  has  thus 
befriended  me  I  hope  he  will  take  this  as  an  expression 
of  my  warmest  thanks. 

Another  characteristic  of  the  Russian  officer  is  his 
high  spirits  and  his  marvellous  health  and  vitality. 
He  seems  to  be  simply  bursting  with  vitality  and  over- 
flowing with  animal  spirits.  In  most  of  the  messes 
the  officers  are  large-limbed,  young,  ruddy-faced, 
bright-eyed,  and  to  hear  the  racy,  enthusiastic,  jovial 
way  in  which  they  recount  their  experiences  would 
make  the  most  confirmed  old  misanthorpe  feel  cheer- 
ful. Their  hearty  laughter  is  infectious ;  and  their 
gaiety  does  not  depend  on  good  food  and  good  drink, 
for  I  have  found  them  as  cheerful  after  dining  on  a 
few  fragments  of  stale  bread  as  after  a  champagne 
lunch. 


CHAPTER  II 

BEFORE  MISHCHENKO'S  RAID 

During  the  battle  of  the  Shaho,  Mishchenko  had  been 
stationed  near  the  village  of  Fudyapu,  on  the  banks 
of  that  river,  a  few  miles  south-east  of  Hwang-shan ; 
and,  instead  of  doing  anything  with  his  Cossacks,  he  had 
been  chained,  as  usual,  to  a  bare  hill-top,  where  his 
horsemen  were  quite  useless. 

In  November  he  left  this  village,  and  went  into  the 
reserve  at  a  hamlet  called  Mudzetun,  a  few  miles  south 
of  the  Hun  river.  With  their  usual  ingenuity,  the 
Cossacks  had  marvellously  transformed  this  erstwhile 
Chinese  village,  so  that  it  had  become  as  Cossack  in 
appearance  as  Verkhnyudinsk  or  Arshinsk,  the  only 
evidence  that  it  had  ever  been  inhabited  by  Celestials 
being  a  small  Buddhist  temple  on  the  roadside. 

The  streets  were  carefully  swept  every  morning.  The 
numbers  of  the  different  "sotnia"  living  in  this 
"  stanitza  "  had  been  painted  in  white  on  the  mud  walls 
bounding  the  little  courtyards,  while  the  inside  of  all  the 
houses  had  been  carefully  washed  and  papered  with 
back  numbers  of  Russian  journals,  among  which  the 
illustrated  supplements  of  the  Novoe  Vremya  were  con- 
spicuous. The  houses  were  heated  by  means  of  "kangs " 
and  of  small  tin  stoves  constructed,  after  a  European 
model,  by  the  tin-smiths  in  Mukden.     The  sanitary 


BEFORE  MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  117 

regulations  were  strict,  and  one  of  the  huts  had  been 
made  air-tight  and  converted  into  an  excellent  Russian 
bath-house. 

The  weather  was  now  cold,  but  glorious.  The 
ground  was  hard  as  iron ;  there  was  little  snow  ;  and, 
though  there  was  plenty  of  sunshine,  the  cold  wind 
pierced  one  to  the  marrow,  unless  one  followed  the  ex- 
ample of  the  Russians  and  wore  a  pile  of  furs,  which 
gave  one  the  appearance  of  a  small  elephant. 

Bearded  men  suffered  a  good  deal  of  discomfort 
from  this  cold,  because  the  vapour  from  their  mouths 
formed  into  icicles,  the  removal  of  which  from  their 
moustaches  and  beard  was  rather  painful. 

A  stream  ran  through  our  village,  but  it  ran  under- 
neath a  coat  of  ice,  thick  enough  to  bear  a  railway- 
train.  Every  day  the  Cossacks  cut  holes  in  this  ice 
to  allow  their  horses  to  drink.  The  water  for  their 
own  use  they  got  at  the  village  well,  where,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  Russian  custom,  a  soldier  always  stood 
on  guard.  In  an  enclosed  space  behind  the  houses, 
the  horses  were  piqueted  and  fed  on  straw. 

While  walking  one  morning  through  our  village  of 
Cossackville,  I  was  surprised  to  see  five  or  six 
wretched-looking  Chinese  standing  by  the  frozen  bank 
of  the  stream  collecting  the  entrails  of  the  cows  and 
sheep  that  the  Cossacks  had  just  killed  for  dinner,  and, 
for  a  moment,  I  was  as  startled  at  seeing  these 
Celestials  as  a  New  Yorker  would  be  at  seeing  a  Red 
Indian  stalking  in  paint  and  feathers  through  his  back 
yard. 

Some  village  dogs  had  collected  near  them,  partly 
for  old  acquaintance'  sake — these  gentlemen  having 
probably  been  the  aldermen  of  the  hamlet  under  the 


n8  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 


I 


Chinese  regime — and  partly,  no  doubt,  for  the  sake  of 
the  eatables. 

When  the  Cossacks  entered  into  possession  of  the 
village,  these  dogs  had  left  it  in  a  body,  and  they  had 
afterwards  lived  in  the  fields  at  a  respectful  distance. 
They  were  not  hostile,  however;  they  were  onlypuzzled. 
Some  of  them  had  given  hostages  to  fortune  in  the 
shape  of  pups,  which  the  Cossacks  took  care  of,  and  all 
of  them  seemed  to  see  more  or  less  distinctly  that  the 
newcomers  were  not  wholly  bad.  They  therefore 
refrained  from  barking  at  the  Russians,  and  were 
probably  open  to  an  offer  to  come  back  on  the  old 
terms.  But  the  Russians  did  not  want  them  back,  and 
I  am  afraid  that  the  rigorous  winter  thinned  their 
number.  Often  when  I  went  out  riding  I  found  two 
or  three  of  these  poor  animals  frozen  to  death.  In 
Mukden,  Chinese  beggars  picked  up  these  dead  dogs, 
whose  skins  they  sold,  and  whose  flesh  they  ate. 

The  case  of  the  Chinese  was  indeed  hard,  for  the 
whole  country  between  the  Shaho  and  the  Hun,  over 
a  line  extending  eighty  or  ninety  miles,  had  been 
swept  clear  of  them,  and  the  population  of  Mukden 
had  consequently  swollen  to  five  or  six  times  its  usual 
size.  Day  after  day  I  met  the  inhabitants  of  outlying 
villages  coming  in,  sometimes  with  a  mule  and  a  few 
pots  and  pans,  sometimes  with  nothing  at  all.  Often 
I  met  a  number  of  sturdy  young  men  carrying  on  a 
door  their  aged  grandmother  or  great-grandmother, 
one  of  those  extraordinarily  ancient  people  only  to  be 
found  in  China,  where  old  age  is  worshipped.  Once 
I  met  a  cheerful  young  farmer  carrying  his  two  little 
children,  each  swung  in  a  basket  about  the  size 
of  a  hat-box,  balanced  over  his  shoulder,  one  in  front 


BEFORE  MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  119 

and  one  behind.  That  poor  fellow  had  lost  everything 
in  the  world  save  these  two  children,  but  he  was  quite 
happy. 

The  Cossacks  never  practised  firing  at  targets,  or 
in  any  other  way  ;  but  every  morning  they  had  cavalry 
drill  on  the  village  green,  and  sometimes,  on  returning 
from  this  drill,  they  would  burst  into  a  lively,  rattling 
chant,  which  had  always  the  effect  of  making  me  issue 
forth  into  the  ice-cold,  crisp  morning  air,  radiant  with 
sunshine,  and,  after  the  over-heated  "  fanza,"  pleasant 
to  the  taste  as  iced  champagne  in  summer  time.  In 
fact  the  amount  of  singing  they  did  was  extraordinary, 
and  it  was  excellent  singing.  Sometimes  they  sang 
that  beautiful  national  chant, 

Mnogo  lyet,  mnogo  lyet, 
Nashe  Pravaslavny  Tsar  ! 

Many  years,  many  years 

To  our  Orthodox  Christian  Tsar  ! 

although  a  considerable  proportion  of  them  were 
neither  Orthodox  nor  Russian,  but  Lamaists  of  pure 
Mongol  blood,  and  with  a  strikingly  Japanese  caste  of 
features,  which,  by  the  way,  led  many  of  the  newly 
arrived  European  troops  to  shoot  or  arrest  them  pretty 
frequently  at  this  time. 

There  is  a  striking  contrast  between  the  blood- 
thirstiness  of  the  Cossack's  reputation  and  the  peace- 
fulness  of  his  songs,  which  principally  deal  with  love 
and  home,  and  seldom  with  war. 

Some  of  them  are  old  and  famous.  The  following 
is  a  free  translation  of  the  first  stanza  of  a  popular 
ballad,  said  to  be  more  than  two  hundred  years  old, 


120  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

but,  nevertheless,   only  too  applicable,   alas !    to   th< 
recent  war : 

A  Cossack  rode  out  to  a  distant  countrie, 

To  a  distant  countrie,  with  his  "  sotnia  "  so  gay, 

And  in  vain  his  fair  "  kazachka  "  looked  o'er  the  lea 
From  the  rise  of  the  sun  to  the  close  of  the  day  ; 

For  her  young  Cossack  lover  she  never  did  see ! 

He  died  in  the  snow  in  that  distant  countrie.  .  .  . 

Below  I  translate  the  first  verse  of  a  song  which  was 
composed  by  the  famous  Cossack  leader  Davidoff  at  the 
time  of  Napoleon's  disastrous  retreat  from  Moscow, 
and  which  was  chanted  by  the  Cossacks  as  far  as  the 
gates  of  Paris.  Like  most  Cossacks,  Davidoff  was  a 
hard  drinker,  and  his  ballad  bears  witness  to  that  fact 
The  first  verse  runs  as  follows  : 

Happy  he  who  in  the  strife 

Bravely,  like  a  Cossack,  dies ; 
Happy  he  who,  at  the  feast, 

Drinks  till  he  can't  ope  his  eyes. 

Chorus  : 
Silver  on  the  horse's  feet, 

Half  a  farthing  for  the  master, 
Good  oats  for  the  charger  fleet ; 

A  crust  for  you — you'll  ride  the  faster. 

Davidoff  certainly  interests  me,  for  it  is  not  often 
you  find  a  great  cavalry  leader  who  is  at  the  same 
time  a  good  ballad-maker,  and  I  should  like  to  get 
more  of  his  rousing  songs. 

The  collector  of  Cossack  ballads  will  notice  that  there 
is  nothing  that  in  the  least  resembles  Beranger's  well- 
known  song,    "  Le  Chant  du  Cosaque,"  in  which  the 


BEFORE  MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  121 

Cossack  is  made  to  declare  that  he  will  trample  down 
sceptres  and — the  Cross  : 

faipris  ma  lance,  et  tout  vont  devant  elle 
Humilier  et  le  sceptre  et  la  crotx. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Cossack  is  the  strongest 
supporter  the  throne  has  got,  and,  if  the  Tsar  is  over- 
thrown, the  revolutionists  will  have  to  reckon  with  the 
rider  from  the  Don  as  the  French  revolutionists  had  to 
reckon  with  the  peasants  of  La  Vendee.  Many  of  his 
songs  are  religious,  and  the  expression  "  a  man  without 
a  cross  "  (i.e.,  a  man  who  does  not  wear  a  crucifix 
around  his  neck,  as  all  Orthodox  Christians  are 
supposed  to  do)  is,  in  his  mouth,  a  term  of  reproach. 

Some  of  the  Cossack  songs  relate  to  "  the  King 
Napoleon,''  who,  in  "the  year  twelve,"  and  at  the  head 
of  "the  army  of  twenty  nations,"  invaded  "holy 
Moscow  of  the  snow-white  walls." 

In  fact,  Napoleon,  or,  as  the  Cossacks  call  him, 
"  Poleon,"  seems  to  be  the  one  foreigner,  Julius  Caesar, 
Belisarius,  and  scriptural  characters  excepted,  with 
whose  name  the  Cossack  is  familiar,  and  this  is  exactly 
as  it  should  be,  for  it  was  the  Cossacks  of  the  Don  that 
first  conquered  that  mighty  conqueror.  Davoust,  Ney, 
Eugene,  even  that  brilliant  horseman  Murat,  are  all 
alike  unknown  to  them,  and  of  England  they  know  as 
little  as  the  average  Athenian  knew  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Ancient  Britain.  I  remember  once  overhearing  two 
Cossacks  discussing  me  shortly  after  my  arrival  in 
Mishchenko's  camp. 

"An  Englishman! "  quoth  one  of  them  in  astonish- 
ment, "  why,  he  is  quite  clean  and  civilised  like  our- 
selves ! " 


122  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

The  great  hero  of  Cossack  song  is  "  the  Cossack 
Platoff,"  who  led  the  horsemen  of  the  Don  in  the  wars 
of  Napoleon  I.  Him  the  Tsar  sends  disguised  as  a 
merchant  to  "the  Frantzouz."  He  goes  to  the  Court 
of  France,  and  is  questioned  by  u  the  daughter  of  the 
Frenchman  Arina,"  who  asks  him  to  show  her  the 
portrait  of  "  the  Cossack  Platoff,"  whereupon  he  shows 
her  his  own  portrait  and  instantly  flees,  remarking, 
somewhat  ungallantly,  to  the  young  lady  as  he  mounts 
his  faithful  steed,  "Ah,  crow  !  French  brigand  !  You 
can  never  alive  take  the  Cossack  Platoff!  " 

Naturally  Yermak  is  revered  by  his  children,  the 
Transbaikal  Cossacks.  One  of  their  songs  represents 
him  as  going  to  ask  pardon  of  the  Tsar  before  em- 
barking on  the  conquest  of  Siberia  ; — 

On  Mother  Volga, 

On  the  Kama, 

Live  the  Cossacks,  live  the  Freemen, 

Cossacks  of  the  Don, 

Cossacks  of  the  Caucasus, 

And  they  have  for  Ataman 

Yermak  Timofeevitch. 

Like  a  silver  clarion 
Sounding  in  the  wilderness, 
Sounds  the  voice  of  Yermak, 
Yermak  Timofeevitch, 
And  it  says,  "  O  brethren  ! 
Winter  now  is  coming  on, 
And  no  resting-place  have  we  !  " 
Says  Yermak  Timofeevitch. 

He  asks  his  men  if  they  will  go  to  the  Volga,  "  where 
people  treat  us  as  brigands,"  to  the  Jaik  which  "is  far," 


BEFORE  MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  123 

or  to  Kazan,  "  under  whose  walls  is  encamped  Ivan  the 
Terrible. "  They  finally  decide  to  go  to  the  banks  of 
the  Itych,  to  the  town  of  Tobolsk,  but  first  they  must 
ask  pardon  of  the  Tsar. 

Accordingly  Yermak  advances  at  the  head  of  his 
men.  "Slowly  and  respectfully"  he  traverses  the 
inner  court,  the  vast  court  of  the  Tsar.  He  approaches 
the  red  staircase.  He  dismounts  from  his  horse. 
"  Slowly  and  respectfully"  towards  the  white  palace  of 
the  Tsar  goes  Yermak  Timofeevitch.  "  Slowly  and 
respectfully "  enters  he  the  palace.  The  Terrible  is 
seated  on  his  throne,  surrounded  by  his  Boyars.  Yer- 
mak addresses  him  : 

Health  to  thee,  O  little  Father ! 

Health  to  thee,  most  Christian  Tsar ! 

Ivan  Vassihevitch  I 

I  am  Yermak. 

I  ask  pardon 

For  the  crimes  I  have  committed 

On  the  sea  and  on  the  highway. 

I  have  seized  ships  full  of  pearls, 

Ships  of  Mussulman  and  Persian  ; 

Even  vessels  of  the  Empire 

Have  I  captured,  have  I  plundered, 

But  these  vessels  of  the  Empire 

Bore  not,  Tsar,  thy  coat  of  arms. 

The  Tsar,  puzzled,  asks  himself  aloud  what  he  is  to 
do  with  this  man,  and  one  of  the  Boyars  expresses 
a  decided  opinion  that  hanging,  or  even  decapitation, 
would  be  too  good  for  him,  whereupon  Yermak 
Timofeevitch  draws  his  trusty  sword,  and  cuts  off 
that  Boyar's  head  at  one  blow. 


124  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

On  the  footstool  the  head  bounded, 
Rolled  adown  the  spacious  chamber. 
To  the  door  fled  all  the  Boyars, 
Tumbling  over  one  another. 
Yermak  feared  he  had  offended, 
Had,  perhaps,  been  somewhat  hasty. 

But,  though  the  song  does  not  say  so,  we  are  left  to 
conclude  that  this  little  outburst  of  temper  won  the 
Tsar's  heart,  and  led  to  Yermak  being  entrusted  with 
the  conquest  of  Siberia.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Yermak 
did  not  see  the  Tsar  until  he  had  already  conquered 
Siberia  ;  but  if  there  is  one  thing  more  than  another 
that  distinguishes  the  ballads  of  the  Cossacks,  it  is 
their  sublime  inaccuracy. 

It  is  not  generally  known,  by  the  way,  that  Yermak 
Timofeevitch  is  honoured  by  the  Greek  Church,  which 
solemnly  prays  once  a  year  for  the  repose  of  the  con- 
quistadore's  soul.  In  fact,  he  is  almost  regarded 
as  a  saint  by  the  Cossacks,  who,  in  this  respect,  treat 
their  hero  with  more  respect  than  the  Spaniards  treat 
Cortez  or  Pizarro,  or  than  the  English  treat  Give  or 
Warren  Hastings. 

In  one  of  their  songs,  wherein  a  soldier  is  lying 
dead  and  his  black  horse  is  bending  over  him,  all  the 
Cossacks  join,  after  every  second  line,  in  a  wild 
barbaric  chant  of  "  Akh  !  Mo'i  Bozhin'ka  !  Akh  !  Moi 
Bozhin'ka ! "  which  is  extraordinarily  weird  and  effec- 
tive. Another  favourite  subject  is  a  Cossack  youth 
languishing  in  a  Moslem  prison. 

There  are  continual  references  to  the  great  rivers 
along  which  most  of  the  Cossacks  live.  In  fact,  the 
Don  Cossacks  regard  the  Don  as  the  early  Romans 
regarded  Father  Tiber  ;  it  is  almost  a  divinity.     They 


BEFORE  MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  125 

call  it  Don  Ivanovitch  (Don,  son-of-Ivan,  for  the 
Cossacks  have  a  tradition  that  the  Don  is  the  offspring 
of  Lake  Ivan),  much  as  the  Japanese  peasants  call 
their  famous  mountain  Fuji  San  (Mr.  Fuji),  and 
generally  designate  it  as  "the  quiet  Don  Ivanovitch,'' 
by  way,  I  suppose,  of  contrasting  it  with  the  unquiet 
peoples  who  roam  its  banks. 

Cossack  ballad-makers  refer  often  in  their  songs 
to  beautiful  girls,  differing  greatly  in  this  respect  from 
Japanese  ballad-makers,  who  would  as  soon  think  of 
referring  to  the  binomial  theorem. 

The  Cossack  song  lays  great  stress  on  a  free  life, 
independence,  and  contempt  of  death. 

It  does  not  seem,  however,  to  show  any  extra- 
ordinary respect  to  the  Tsar,  or  at  least  to  his  repre- 
sentatives, some  of  whom  the  Cossacks  decapitate  and 
cast  into  the  "  quiet  Don  Ivanovitch,"  addressing 
insulting  remarks  to  them  as  they  float  down  the 
stream.  No  Tsar  has  ever  been  so  reverenced  by  the 
Cossacks  as  Stenka  Razin,  who  for  years  defied  St. 
Petersburg  and  devastated  all  the  country  between 
the  Volga  and  the  Don. 

I  once  heard  recited  at  the  camp-fire  a  splendid 
ballad  which  a  poet,  called  Zhukovsky,  I  think,  com- 
posed in  the  Russian  camp  on  the  eve  of  the  battle 
fought  on  the  Tarutina  during  Napoleon's  invasion 
of  Russia.  It  begins  with  a  powerful  description 
of  night  in  camp — 

Na  polye  brannom  teesheena  ; 
Ognee  mezhdu  shatramee  ! 

Silence  rests  on  the  battlefield, 
Fires  burn  among  the  tents. 


126  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

But  the  best  thing  in  this  ballad  is  the  invocation 
of  a  dead  hero,  an  invocation  which  B6ranger,  by  the 
way,  borrows  in  his  Chant  du  Cosaque. 

"  Who,"  asks  the  poet,  "  is  this  tremendous  giant, 
this  horseman  from  the  North,  that  glares  with  terrible 
eyes  at  the  camp  of  the  sleeping  enemy  ? 

"  Ghosts  fly  with  fearful  cries  from  his  path,  which, 
far  as  the  snowy  fastnesses  of  the  Alps,  is  strewn  with 
thunderstorms. 

"  The  Gaul  grows  pale.  Beneath  this  baleful  glare 
the  Sarmate  trembles  in  his  tent.  Woe  !  woe  !  to  the 
foeman  !     'Tis  the  spirit  of  our  terrible  Suwaroff !  " 

Naturally  enough,  the  Cossack  does  not  forget  to 
mention  the  horse  in  his  ballads.  In  fact,  he  manages 
to  introduce  him  into  the  most  unlikely  subjects.  One 
of  the  Russian  marriage  songs  begins,  for  instance, 
as  follows : 

Matushka !     What  makes  that  dust  on  the  plain  ? 
Sadar'nya  !     What  makes  that  dust  on  the  plain  ? 
„  My  daughter  !  the  hoof-beats,  the  hoof-beats  of  horses  ! 
Sadar'nya  I  the  hoof-beats,  the  hoof-beats  of  horses  ! 

Of  course  the   lover   is   astride   one   of  the   horses, 
although  the  fair  one  is  not  supposed  to  know  it. 
Again,  in  another  marriage  song  : 

'Tis  not  a  falcon  flying  through  the  sky, 
'Tis  not  a  falcon  with  its  feathers  blue, 
'Tis  a  bold  youth  who  gallops  bravely  by. 

When  winter  came  on,  some  of  the  "skazki"  (stories) 
those  Cossacks  used  to  tell  during  the  long  nights 
around  the  samovar  were  calculated  to  make  one's 
flesh  creep,  stories  of  the  old  days  when  a  Cossack  who 


BEFORE  MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  127 

had  murdered  another  Cossack  (if  he  killed  a  person 
who  was  not  a  Cossack,  it  did  not  seem  to  be  regarded 
as  murder  at  all  or  even  manslaughter)  was  buried  alive 
underneath  the  coffin  of  the  man  he  had  murdered. 
Sometimes  the  ghost  of  a  murderer  used  to  appear 
with  the  coffin  of  the  victim  on  his  back,  and  to  pursue 
any  one  who  passed  his  grave  by  night,  and  the  fear  of 
being  chased  in  this  frightful  way  was  sufficient  to 
prevent  the  boldest  horseman  from  approaching  the 
haunted  spot. 

I  first  heard  this  story  one  night  immediately  after 
the  battle  of  the  Shaho,  and  in  the  middle  of  a  desolate 
valley  where  some  ten  thousand  men  had  just  been 
killed,  and  I  could  not  help  thinking  it  strange  that 
not  one  of  the  Cossacks,  who,  in  Russia,  would  be 
frightened  to  death  if  asked  to  pass  the  grave  of  a 
murderer  by  night,  was  in  the  least  disturbed  when 
told  to  traverse  alone,  at  any  hour  in  the  twenty-four, 
this  valley  of  dead  men's  bones.  The  Cossacks 
seemed  no  more  to  expect  ghosts  to  appear  in  a  battle- 
field than  in  a  butcher's  shop. 

In  the  Cossack  "skazki"  the  dead  are  sometimes 
represented  under  an  altogether  dreadful  aspect, 
horrible  stories  being  told  of  corpses,  animated  by 
demons,  rising  at  midnight  and  attempting  to  rend 
their  watchers.  Warlocks,  vampires,  and  all  that 
terrible  brotherhood  trouble  the  Cossack  imagination^ 
and  sometimes,  especially  on  a  dark  night,  one  gets 
quite  unnerved  by  a  course  of  these  stories,  which  are 
so  different  from  the  sunny  myths  of  the  Japanese.  As 
for  the  songs  and  superstitions  of  our  Mongol  and 
Caucasian  contingents,  I  have  neither  the  space  nor 
the  knowledge  to  deal  with  them. 


128  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

The  only  outdoor  exercise  the  Cossack  got  at  this 
season,  besides  his  daily  drill,  was  attending  to  his 
horses  and  stacking  up  the  straw  and  "  kiaoliang," 
which  was  conveyed  to  Cossackville  from  villages  to 
the  north  of  Mukden  in  long  lines  of  Chinese  carts. 
This  spectacle  of  the  men  building  up  stacks  of  straw 
was  very  peaceful  and  rural,  and  harmonised  well 
with  the  sound  of  the  hammer,  which  was  always 
ringing  on  the  anvil  in  our  village  smithy,  but  not,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  converting  swords  into  plough-shares. 

As  for  outdoor  sports,  there  was  not  such  a  thing  as 
a  football  in  the  entire  army,  and  the  only  exercise 
the  officers  got  was  riding  into  town  or  practising 
pistol-shooting  for  bets.  Indoors  they  read  Anton 
Tchekhov,  Turgueniev,  Grigorovitch,  Pisarov,  and 
heavy  reviews  giving  a  very  complete  account  of 
foreign  literature.  Many  of  them  took  in  the  leading 
daily  papers  of  St.  Petersburg,  and  several  received 
technical  reviews,  periodicals  dealing  with  military 
matters,  with  the  horse,  etc.  On  the  whole  their 
reading  was  solid.  They  also  played  cards,  but  they 
were  not  happy  till  they  had  got  from  Harbin  a 
gramophone,  which  reeled  off  Russian  songs  during 
mealtime.  Sometimes  a  rattling  old  Cossack  tune 
would  so  excite  the  younger  members  of  our  com- 
munity that  they  would  jump  up  from  table  and  dance 
the  M  Kazatchok." 

I  still  seem  to  hear  this  gramophone  grinding  out 
select  pieces  from  Glinka's  "  Life  for  the  Tsar." 
Meanwhile  the  steaming  "samovar"  purrs  gently 
on  the  table,  swift  justice  is  being  done  to  the 
"  pirogi "  (patties)  and  "caviare."  The  "borsch" 
is  carried  round  by  the  boyish  Zeemeen,  whose  wide 


BEFORE  MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  129 

kaftan  is  confined  by  a  narrow  belt  studded  with 
bright  brass  rivets  like  a  prison  door,  whose  head  is 
crowned  by  a  huge  wolf-skin  busby,  even  in  the 
dining-room,  and  whose  feet  are  always  encased  in 
high  boots.  We  are  also  waited  on  by  the  jocose, 
mysterious-looking  Buriat,  Munkusha,  whose  name 
everybody  pronounces  in  a  different  way. 

Owing  to  the  fact  that  I  wore  no  uniform,  I  was  for 
a  long  time  a  puzzle  to  the  Cossacks. 

PhilipofT  once  said  to  me,  "  I  suppose,  Vashe 
Blagarodie  (one  of  noble  birth),  that  before  entering 
the  service  of  his  Most  Gracious  Majesty  the 
Tsar,  our  Gosudar,  you  had  to  renounce  allegiance 
to  your  own  Gosudar  ?  "  And  when  I  told  him  I  had 
done  nothing  of  the  kind,  he  attempted  to  cheer  me 
up  by  saying  that  I  would  probably  get  a  decoration 
anyhow. 

The  Cossack  never  wearies  of  talking  about  decor- 
ations, and  speculating  on  the  order  which  he  himself 
will  receive  when  the  war  is  over  ;  and  when  he  does 
receive  an  order  he  seems  to  wear  it  continuously  day 
and  night. 

The  Cossacks  and  the  Russian  soldiers  generally 
are  treated  far  more  gently  by  their  officers  than  the 
Japanese  soldiers  are  by  theirs.  When  I  was  in  Japan 
there  was  a  regular  epidemic  of  suicide  among  soldiers, 
the  result  of  ill-treatment  on  the  part  of  officers,  who 
were  not  brutal,  however,  but  only  over-zealous  and 
over-anxious  to  imitate  the  German  system  to  the 
letter.  During  my  stay  with  the  Russians  I  never 
saw  anybody  ill-used  except  in  two  cases.  In  one 
case  all  the  orderlies  in  a  houseful  of  officers  got 
drunk,    for   which  offence    one    of  them — the   worst 


130  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

— was  sent  to  the  guard-room.  As  it  was  extremely- 
cold,  however,  Essaoul  Cheslavsky,  the  officer  on 
duty,  gave  orders  that  the  prisoner  was  to  be  released 
in  three  or  four  hours.  In  the  second  case  a  Cossack, 
who  formed  part  of  an  expedition  which  I  accompanied, 
got  intoxicated  on  some  liquor  which  he  had  obtained 
in  a  Chinese  house,  and  for  this  he  was  made  to 
dismount  and  go  for  some  distance  on  foot. 


CHAPTER   III 

A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Towards  the  end  of  1904,  Mishchenko's  whole  force, 
now  consisting  of  7500  horsemen,  including  Cossacks, 
dragoons,  mounted  infantry,  horse  artillery,  and 
Caucasian  volunteers,  suddenly  moved  from  their  quar- 
ters at  Mudzetun  to  Suhudyapu  on  the  Hun  river, 
about  a  dozen  miles  to  the  south-west  of  that  city,  with 
the  object,  as  afterwards  appeared,  of  making  south- 
ward raids  during  the  winter  and  cutting  the  Japanese 
line  of  communications. 

At  this  time  my  position  was  rather  difficult. 
Whether  because  of  these  raids  being  in  contemplation 
and  of  the  General  Staff  being  unwilling  that  I  should 
take  part  in  them,  or  because  some  other  correspon- 
dents had  complained  repeatedly  about  my  being 
allowed  to  have  mounted  orderlies  and  to  circulate 
generally  wherever  I  liked,  while  they  were  now 
forbidden  to  leave  Mukden,  Colonel  Pestitch,  the 
censor,  made  repeated  efforts  to  detach  me  from  the 
Cossacks. 

One  day  I  rode  into  Mukden  and  found  some  of  my 
confreres  of  the  Press  very  angry  because  the  censor 
had  made  themall  promise  not  toleavethecity.  They  had 
asked  him  if  this  promise  was  also  to  be  exacted  from  me, 
whereupon  he  said  "  yes,"  and  gave  them  to  understand 


1 32  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

that  he  was  just  lying  low,  waiting  for  me,  and  that  as 
soon  as  I  had  entered  the  gates  of  the  city  he  would 
pounce  upon  me,  separate  me  from  Philipoff,  and  make 
me  remain  in  Mukden  like  my  colleagues.  This  news 
greatly  disquieted  me,  for  I  knew  that  the  censor  was 
living  with  his  friend,  the  Russian  Resident  of  Mukden, 
under  whose  orders  were  the  soldiers  who  guarded 
the  gates,  and  that  these  soldiers  had  received  instruc- 
tions to  let  no  correspondent  pass.  I  was  caught,  then, 
like  a  rat  in  a  trap  !  But  I  determined  to  make  a  dash 
for  freedom  before  the  censor  had  got  wind  of  my  arrival, 
and  accordingly  sallied  out.  If  I  had  left  the  city  as 
usual  by  the  south  gate  I  should  probably  have  been 
stopped,  but,  attended  by  my  faithful  Cossack,  I 
galloped  through  the  west  gate,  and,  owing  to  my 
Russified  appearance,  to  the  headlong  speed  at 
which  I  rode,  and  to  the  fact  that  it  was  getting  dark 
and  that  I  wore  no  brassard,  the  soldiers  at  the  gate 
were  so  impressed  that,  instead  of  arresting  me,  they 
called  out  the  guard  and  gave  me  the  military  salute.  I 
had  determined  to  gallop  past  them  in  any  case,  and 
once  outside  the  walls,  it  would  not  have  been  easy  for 
them  to  catch  me. 

I  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  my  way  back  to 
Mishchenko,  for  a  huge  chunk  of  country  to  the  north 
of  Mukden  was  now  traversed  by  broad  roads,  running 
east  and  west,  north  and  south,  and  marked  at  every 
crossing  with  finger-posts  pointing  out  the  way  of 
retreat,  like  the  signs  in  the  American  theatres  pointing 
to  the  fire  exits. 

When  I  reached  the  Cossack  camp  and  told  my 
friends  of  my  outlawed  condition,  they  greeted  me  with 
as  much   enthusiasm   as  their  fathers  on   the   lower 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     133 

Dneiper  would  have  greeted  an  outlaw  flying  to  the 
Sitch  ;  and  I  think  that  if  the  censor  had  sent  any 
emissary  to  bring  me  back,  that  emissary  would  have 
run  a  serious  risk  of  being  hanged. 

I  found  that  the  Cossacks  had  now  got  huge 
"  papakhas  "  or  wolf-skin  busbies  with  stripes  of  cloth 
of  gold  on  the  crown — a  very  ancient  style  of  Cossack 
headgear,  which  greatly  altered  their  appearance  for  the 
better,  and  of  which  they  were  as  proud  as  a  lady  is  of 
a  new  bonnet  or  as  an  Assam  buffalo  ought  to  be  of 
his  horns. 

A  few  days  later,  a  further  change  was  made  in 
their  appearance  when  "polshuboks"  were  distributed 
amongst  the  men.  These  "  polshuboks  "  were  pelisses 
made  of  untanned  white  bearskin  with  the  wool  inside, 
fitting  very  tight,  fastened  down  the  middle  of  the  breast 
by  means  of  hooks,  reaching  nearly  to  the  knee  and 
smelling  abominably.  Philipoff  brought  me  one,  and 
it  gave  the  finishing  touches  to  my  "  Kazaksky " 
appearance. 

I  found  that  the  Cossack  officers  had  changed 
too,  but  in  a  different  way.  They  had  all  become 
very  studious,  and  were  taking  a  particularly  keen 
interest  in  nitro-glycerine  and  the  blowing  up  of  railway 
trains  and  bridges.  They  even  had  night  schools,  in 
which  lectures  on  this  fascinating  business  were  given 
by  an  anaemic-looking  young  officer  in  spectacles,  who 
had  been  sent  to  us  by  the  General  Staff.  I  attended 
some  of  these  classes,  for  I  found  it  distinctly  interesting 
to  watch  this  pale-faced  professor  show  the  students 
seated  around  him  how  to  wreck  railway  property  and 
derail  engines.  It  was  like  attending  a  meeting  of 
anarchists.      The  object    of  the  whole  thing  was  of 


134  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

course    clear    to    me.      We  were   going  to  send  out 
expeditions  to  wreck  the  railway, 

Meanwhile  a  large  quantity  of  nitro-glycerine  arrived 
in  camp,  and  was  stored  in  an  empty  house  next  to  the 
one  which  I  occupied.  A  sentinel  was  placed  at  the 
door  of  this  house,  and  one  of  the  duties  of  the  officer 
of  the  day  was  to  go  to  this  sentinel  the  first  thing  in 
the  morning  and  get  him  to  repeat  a  long  string  of 
cautions  like  a  child  repeating  the  ten  commandments. 
He  was  not  to  allow  any  one  to  enter  the  hut  with  a 
light,  with  his  boots  on,  etc. ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  this 
care,  I  half  expected,  from  what  I  knew  of  "  the  care- 
less Cossack  "  (as  Pushkin  calls  him),  to  find  myself 
travelling  rapidly  skyward  some  fine  morning,  owing  to 
the  explosion  of  the  whole  magazine. 

Hearing,  the  day  after  my  arrival  in  camp,  that  a 
party  of  two  hundred  men  under  Colonel  Plaoutine 
was  going  to  cross  the  Liao  river  next  day,  I  deter- 
mined to  accompany  it,  for  it  would  be  rather  difficult 
for  my  friend  Colonel  Pestitch  to  get  hold  of  me  in 
case  I  was  away  down  somewhere  in  the  rear  of  the 
Japanese  army.  The  only  other  foreigner  who  joined 
this  party  was  Lieutenant  Ferdinand  Burtin,  a 
young  French  officer  from  Algeria,  who  had  some 
time  before  joined  Mishchenko's  detachment  as  a 
volunteer,  with  the  rank  of  "  sotnik  "  or  centurion. 

Colonel  Plaoutine's  instructions  were  to  cross  the 
Liao  river,  which  is  the  frontier  of  China,  to  proceed 
south  as  far  as  Davan,  see  if  there  were  any  Hunghuze 
in  that  district,  or  if  the  Japanese  had  been  establishing 
any  depots  there,  then  march  westward  as  far  as  the 
Kupanze-Tsinmintun  railway  and  ascertain  if  that 
line  were  carrying  any  contraband  for  the  Japanese. 


I 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     135 

His  instructions  went  no  further  than  this.  He  was 
not  told  to  stop  any  train,  or  to  arrest  anybody  ;  he  was 
told,  however,  that  he  was  not  to  allow  himself  to  be 
over-powered.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  went  much 
further  south  than  his  instructions  warranted.  These 
were  the  ostensible  objects  of  the  expedition,  but  I 
suspected  that  a  deeper  object,  unknown  even  to  Plaou- 
tine  himself,  lay  behind,  and  at  once  wrote  to  the  New 
York  Herald,  in  a  letter  which  was  published  about 
a  month  afterwards,  saying  that  the  real  aim  of  the 
Russians  in  making  this  raid  was  "to  reconnoitre  the 
extreme  left  of  the  Japanese,  with  a  view  to  sending 
Cossack  expeditions  that  way  in  order  to  cut  the 
railway  south  of  Liaoyang." 

Before  we  started  on  this  foray  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  excitement  among  the  Cossack  officers  who  were 
to  take  part  in  it,  at  the  prospect  of  coming  in  contact 
with  the  Chinese  troops  or  with  the  English  officials 
on  the  railway.  Everybody  wanted  to  join  in  this 
expedition,  and,  late  on  the  night  of  December  20, 
while  the  Russian  officers  were  discussing  the  perilous 
ride  in  front  of  them,  three  lads,  all  of  them  about  fifteen 
years  of  age,  who  had  run  away  from  home  in  order  to 
join  Mishchenko,  came  to  our  leader  and  implored  him 
to  grant  them  permission  to  go  also.  A  vivid  repre- 
sentation of  the  long  rides  in  front  of  them  and  of  the 
risks  they  must  undergo,  seemed  only  to  whet  their 
appetite  for  the  adventure.  In  their  eagerness  for 
danger  they  reminded  me  strongly  of  English  or 
American  lads.  They  were  Russian  Tom  Sawyers 
or  Huckleberry  Finns.  But,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  they  did  not  turn  up  next  day. 

The  officers    themselves  thought  that   the  danger 


136  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

from  the  Hunghuze  would  be  great,  and  that  if  they 
attempted  to  enter  any  station  where  an  Englishman 
was  station-master,  there  would  be  a  row,  which  might 
run  like  wild-fire  round  the  world,  and  in  which  not 
only  Russia  and  England  but  other  nations  as  well 
might  be  involved. 

They  seemed  greatly  to  relish,  however,  the  pro- 
spect of  coming  directlyinto  contact  with  these  English- 
men, so  troublesome,  but  so  hard  to  get  at ;  and  the 
railway  was  always  alluded  to  by  them  as  the  "  English 
railway." 

As  is  well  known,  of  course,  this  Tsinmintun 
line  had  originally  been  almost  an  English  strategic 
railway,  run  up  from  Shan-hai-kwan  to  a  point  as  far 
north  as  Mukden,  in  order  to  counterbalance  the 
Russian  line  on  the  other  side  of  the  Liao-ho,  and  to 
place  the  English  in  a  position  to  watch  Russia's 
descent  from  the  north,  and,  if  possible,  to  stop  it. 
The  previous  relations  of  the  Russians  with  the  direc- 
tors of  this  Chinese  railway  had  not  been  of  the  most 
pleasant  character.  On  July  8,  1900,  they  had  grabbed 
the  whole  line  and  turned  out  Mr.  Claud  W.  Kinder 
and  his  staff,  a  step  which  was  somewhat  resented  in 
England,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  line  had  been 
chiefly  constructed  by  British  capital,  and  was,  to  a 
large  extent,  mortgaged  to  British  bondholders.  At 
Yinkow  and  elsewhere  they  had  seized  fifty  miles 
of  railway  material,  and  all  sorts  of  machinery  and 
stores,  and  sent  them  all  on  to  Port  Arthur,  and  they 
behaved  everywhere  in  the  same  rather  high-handed 
fashion. 

One  thing  that  served  to  make  the  expedition  popu- 
lar among  the  Cossacks  was  their  expectation  that, 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     137 

unless  they  came  in  contact  with  the  English,  it  would 
not  be  those  stubborn  Japanese  that  they  would  be 
called  upon  to  fight,  but  the  Chinese. 

"  I  like  fighting  the  Chinese  soldiers,"  quoth  Phili- 
poff.  "  As  soon  as  they  let  off  their  rifles  they  run 
away.  And,  glory  be  to  God,  in  China  I  have  now, 
one  of  noble  birth !  a  chance  of  getting  a  better 
horse ! " 

And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  during  this  raid,  Philipoff 
once  brought  before  me  a  Chinese  farmer,  who  was 
feverishly  anxious  to  swap  his  good  horse  for  Phili- 
poffs  bad  one ;  but  as  I  was  afraid  that  pressure  had 
been  brought  to  bear  on  the  Celestial,  I  would  not 
consent  to  the  transfer. 

Anyhow,  whatever  were  the  reasons,  the  fact  re- 
mains that  every  one  who  went  on  this  expedition  was 
keenly  envied  by  those  who  stayed  behind.  I  myself 
was  among  the  envied  ones,  for  to  my  own  surprise  I 
was  allowed  to  go.  When  I  applied  to  Mishchenko  for 
permission  to  accompany  Colonel  Plaoutine,  I  hardly 
dared  to  hope  that  permission  would  be  granted  me, 
but  granted  it  was,  instantly  and  cheerfully.  It  was 
rather  a  damper,  however,  on  my  enthusiasm  to 
receive  immediately  afterwards  a  small  packet  contain- 
ing an  antiseptic  bandage  for  wounds,  and  to  hear  the 
regimental  doctor  hurriedly  explain  to  me  how  to  use 
it,  and  assure  me  that  I  would  probably  need  it  before 
I  came  back. 

Below  I  give  a  plan  of  our  wanderings.  The 
reader  is  warned,  however,  that  he  must  not  look 
upon  it  as  a  map,  my  object  being  only  to  give 
him  a  general  idea  of  our  route,  and  of  the  respective 
positions  occupied  by  the  villages  which  we  visited. 


138 


WITH  THE.  COSSACKS 


We  first  crossed  the  Hun  river  and  went  to  Ei 
dagow,  where  we  passed  the  night.  Next  day  we 
crossed  the  Liao  river  at  Kolama.  This  frontier  stream 
is  here  very  unimposing,  flowing  as  it  does  through  a 


line 


rSVHUDYAPU 
(Mishchenko's  headqrs. 
Christmas  1JQ4.) 


ChjanUusntzi 
Jentai  f-AH 


LIA0YAN6. 


level  plain,  and  being  only  a  few  hundred  yards  across. 
The  ice  was  very  firm,  and  would  evidently  have  sup- 
ported, without  a  groan,  a  railway  train  in  addition  to 
our  two  "sotnia." 

We  crossed  in  the  teeth  of  an  icy  wind  that  filled  me 
with  a  perpetual  fear  lest  my  ears,  or  nose,  or  feet,  or 
some  other  part  of  my  anatomy  should  get  frost-bitten 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     139 

without  my  knowing  about  it,  and  I  was  continually- 
putting  my  hands  to  these  different  sections  of  my  body 
in  order  to  ascertain  if  they  were  still  there.  The 
beards  and  moustaches  of  those  who  had  got  such 
appendages  were  thick  with  icicles,  while  horns  of 
ice  several  inches  long  formed  on  the  noses  of  the 
horses. 

We  rested  for  the  night  in  a  little  village  near  the 
Liao,  and  on  the  next  day  set  out  towards  Davan,  one 
"sotnia  "  going  'down  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  the 
other  down  the  right.  On  the  way  we  captured  twenty 
armed  Chinamen,  who  wore  the  uniform  of  soldiers, 
but  most  of  whose  rifles  did  not  bear  the  Russian 
mark,  and  were  therefore  broken  in  pieces  by  the 
Cossacks. 

I  saved  one  of  them,  however — a  German  Mauser 
— for  myself,  and  a  large  quantity  of  ammunition 
with  it,  and  carried  it  until  the  end  of  the  expedi- 
tion. The  colonel  warned  me  that  if  the  Japanese 
took  me  prisoner  with  this  rifle  in  my  possession, 
they  would  certainly  shoot  me ;  but,  in  spite  of  this,  I 
continued  to  bear  it.  I  did  not  mean  to  use  it  against 
the  Japanese,  but  I  did  mean  to  use  it  against  the 
Hunghuze  in  case  I  was  left  behind,  wounded  and 
dismounted.  The  prospect  of  being  by  some  chance 
abandoned,  unarmed,  to  a  people  who  have  reduced 
cruelty  to  a  fine  art,  was  one  that  did  not  appeal 
to  me. 

This  bit  of  business  done,  we  proceeded  on  our  way  : 
to  our  left  a  fringe  of  trees  bordering  the  banks  of 
the  Liao,  to  the  right  a  vast  plain  to  which  we  could 
see  no  end.  As  we  rode  along,  I  noticed  that  some- 
thing struck  the  ground  sharply  within  a  dozen  yards 


140  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

of  my  horse,  which,  alarmed  at  the  little  puff  of  dust 
raised  by  the  missile,  whatever  it  was,  swerved  sud- 
denly. I  did  not  hear  the  report  of  firearms,  but  I 
was  nevertheless  under  the  impression  that  this  was  a 
bullet,  fired  from  a  great  distance,  probably  by  the 
Hunghuze,  who  caused  us  trouble  later  on,  and  the 
officers  around  me  were  of  the  same  opinion.  A  few 
yards  further  on,  a  second  bullet  struck  the  ground, 
raising  another  handful  of  dust,  but  there  was  nothing 
further  just  then. 

After  crossing  the  Hun  river  we  passed  the  night 
at  Erdagow,  and  crossed  the  Liao-ho  into  Chinese 
territory  at  Kolama.  At  a  place  called  Asin,  near 
Kolama,  we  learned  that  a  number  of  Japanese 
soldiers  and  Chinese  ex -bandits  had  been  there  the 
day  before,  conveying  grain  to  the  Japanese  army. 
We  met  several  caravans  of  Chinese  carts  carrying 
grain  and  goods  from  Yinkow  to  Tsinmintun,  so  that 
it  was  evident  that  the  Japanese  were  not  interfering 
with  the  traffic  along  the  road. 

At  Kolama  we  divided,  and  went  down  both  sides 
of  the  Liao-ho  as  far  as  Davan,  whence  we  pro- 
ceeded to  Da-hwang-dee,  a  great  business  centre, 
where,  in  summer,  bean  cake  is  shipped  in  large 
quantities  down  the  river.  We  then  went  still  further 
south  to  a  point  about  thirty  miles  distant  from  New- 
chwang  and  twenty  miles  from  the  sea,  and  then, 
turning  north-west,  struck  the  Chinese  railway  at 
Ta-ho-shan,  returning  to  Kolama  by  the  more 
northerly  route  indicated  in  the  map. 

West  of  the  Liao  river,  almost  as  far  as  the  railway, 
there  extended  at  that  time  a  No-man's  Land,  with 
which  I  had  previously  been  acquainted  in  works  of 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     141 

fiction  alone.  My  trip  was  like  a  plunge  into  the 
Scottish  border  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Instead  of 
riding  behind  the  Orange  banner  of  the  Cossacks,  I 
seemed  to  be  moving  in  the  train  of  Shane  O'Neil  or 
Wallenstein.  Instead  of  chasing  Manchurian  "  Raz- 
boyneeke,"  I  was  chasing  Irish  Rapparees. 

In  this  No-man's  Land  the  villages  were  all  fortified, 
in  a  humble  way  of  course,  but  still  fortified,  with 
mounds  and  trenches.  There  was  as  a  rule  no  draw- 
bridge, only  a  very  narrow  path  running  through  a 
gap  in  the  ditch  which  surrounded  the  village.  Inside 
the  wall  at  this  point  there  was  always  a  little  hut  in 
which  Chinese  soldiers,  with  red-trimmed  garments  and 
an  enormous  Chinese  character  embroidered  in  crimson 
on  the  breast  of  each  man's  coat,  kept  watch  and  ward. 
On  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Liao-ho,  the  sole  defen- 
sive weapons  which  the  Chinese  soldiers  were  allowed 
by  the  Russians  to  carry  were  long  poles  which  for  pur- 
poses of  offence  or  defence  were  as  pathetically  and 
ridiculously  useless  as  tooth-picks.  On  the  western 
bank  they  were  permitted  to  have  rifles,  so  long  as 
these  rifles  bore  the  Russian  mark.  The  Russians 
were  exceedingly  apt  to  mistake  them  for  Hunghuze 
and  to  shoot  them  on  sight ;  while  the  Hunghuze 
always  regarded  them  of  course  as  natural  enemies,  so 
that,  taking  one  consideration  with  another,  the  life 
of  the  almond-eyed  guardian  of  the  peace  on  the  banks 
of  the  Liao-ho  was  at  this  time  one  of  considerable 
anxiety.  The  same  must  be  said  of  the  unfortunate 
villagers  whom  these  policemen  were  supposed  to  pro- 
tect, for,  though  solitary  bandits  might  be  driven  off, 
there  was  no  chance  of  any  village  holding  out  against 
regular  troops  or  even  against  the  well-organised  and 


142  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

well-armed  bands  of  robbers  who  at  that  time  patrolled 
the  Liao  valley. 

Nevertheless,  they  seemed  to  have  then  collected 
inside  their  enclosures  great  quantities  of  "  kiaoliang  " 
stalks  (for  fuel)  and  of  grain,  and  they  used  to  keep 
their  cattle  there  all  winter,  exactly  as  people  did  in 
troubled  districts  in  Europe  during  the  Middle  Ages, 
as  the  names  of  many  villages  there  still  attest. 

I  used  often,  as  I  saw  children  staring  at  me, 
open-mouthed,  from  the  mud-walls  of  the  villages,  to 
exclaim  to  myself:  "  What  a  training  this  is  for  a 
child ! "  And  certainly,  to  live  in  a  fortified  village 
and  frequently  to  see  men  killed  is  a  unique  if  not  a 
pleasant  experience.  But  it  was  an  experience  our 
own  fathers  had. 

Every  village  seemed  to  be  a  little  republic.  The 
elders  ruled.  Their  married  and  unmarried  children 
alike  looked  up  to  them  for  guidance.  China  seemed 
to  have  no  representatives,  civil  or  military,  among 
them. 

Lieutenant  Burtin  was  astonished  at  this  defence- 
lessness  of  the  Chinese. 

"Why,"  he  cried  more  than  once,  "this  people 
deserve  all  they  get.  They  have  voluntarily  disarmed 
themselves." 

Nevertheless,  his  sensitive  conscience  was  some- 
times troubled  about  these  poor  Celestials.  He  did 
not  like  the  way  in  which  his  Cossack  orderly — who 
did  not  seem  to  have  any  conscience  worth  mentioning 
— commandeered  Chinese  forage,  or  crossed  himself 
and  said  an  elaborate  grace  over  a  chicken  which  he 
had  not  paid  for ;  and  although  I  once  assured  him 
that  a  lump  sum  was  always  given  by  our  colonel  to 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     143 

the  village  headman,  I  feel  sure  that  he  privately  paid 
something  on  his  own  account  so  as  to  avoid  any 
infraction  of  the  Seventh  Commandment.  I  may  here 
mention  that  this  young  Frenchman  was  a  very  earnest 
Roman  Catholic. 

Owing  to  the  severity  of  the  winter  the  villagers 
had  not  much  to  do  beyond  gazing  helplessly  from 
their  mud-walls  on  the  different  armed  bands  that  rode 
within  their  ken.  They  crowded  these  walls  as  we 
approached,  but  wisely  refrained  from  making  any 
hostile  demonstration.  They  always  took  the  greatest 
possible  pains,  however,  to  induce  us  to  go  else- 
where. They  invariably  knew  of  a  place  a  few  "li " 
further  on,  where  there  were  absolutely  perfect 
houses —large,  commodious,  warm,  overflowing  with 
food  and  drink,  and  inhabited  by  kindly  hearted  people 
who  simply  doted  on  the  Russians  and  had  been 
waiting  in  vain  for  years  an  opportunity  of  enter- 
taining them.  We  never  managed,  however,  to  find 
these  people,  or,  if  we  did,  they  concealed  their  pro- 
Russian  proclivities  with  remarkable  success. 

As  we  moved  further  west  of  the  Liao  river,  we 
noticed  a  shade  of  difference  in  the  character  and  even 
in  the  language  of  the  people.  There  was  also  a  slight 
change  in  the  style  of  architecture.  The  houses  were 
like  this — 


No  ceiling. 


144  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 


on  the  east  side  of  the  Liao ;  on  the  west  they  were 
often  like  this — 


Ceiling. 


Many  of  the  villages  were  very  snug  and  prosperous, 
and  some  of  the  Chinese  farmhouses  were  very  fine, 
being  (although  I  am  an  Irishman  who  says  it)  superior 
to  the  average  Connaught  cabin.  In  some  places  I 
saw  attached  to  a  single  house  a  clean  courtyard, 
large  enough  to  hold  a  regiment ;  spacious  under- 
ground cellars  for  garden  produce  in  winter,  sym- 
metrical piles  of  "kiaoliang,"  strings  of  vegetables 
drying  outside,  great  quantities  of  beans  and  sauces, 
and  stores  of  beautiful  silk  dresses,  for  the  members  of 
the  family  of  both  sexes  on  festive  occasions. 

Whenever  we  came  to  a  village  no  violence  was 
used  in  turning  the  people  out  of  the  houses  which  we 
had  decided  to  occupy.  They  were  simply  told  to  go, 
and  they  went, — to  a  neighbour's  house,  taking  all  their 
warm  clothing  and  cooking  utensils  along  with  them. 
Some  of  the  more  respectable  of  these  houses  had, 
pasted  on  the  walls  of  the  rooms,  the  most  indecent 
pictures,  by  native  artists,  that  I  have  ever  seen  in 
my  life.  They  were  really  so  bad  that  we  felt  it 
would  be  almost  criminal  to  allow  even  our  polygamous 
Buriat  Cossacks  to  soil  their  minds  by  gazing  on  them. 
In  others  there  were  strange  and  unexpected  tokens 
of  Western  civilisation.  One  such  token  was  a  number 
of  rude  pictures,  representing  a  railway  train,  a  factory, 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     145 

filled  with  pig-tailed  Celestials,  and  something  that 
looked  like  an  overhead  street  railway.  In  every 
village  we  found  mugs  made  in  Japan,  although 
genuinely  Western  in  style,  and  bearing  representa- 
tions of  Japanese  warships  with  hundreds  of  Japanese 
flags  flying  from  them,  and  of  gigantic  porcelain 
factories  labelled  "  Kobe,  Japan." 

In  entering  the  larger  towns  we  created  somewhat 
of  a  sensation.  At  Da-hwang-dee,  which  is  only 
about  a  day's  march  from  Newchwang,  the  people  did 
not  know  whether  to  laugh  at  us  as  missionaries  or  to 
run  away  from  us  as  outlaws.  I  remember  that  we 
entered  one  largish  town  while  a  market  was  being 
held  in  it,  and  the  effect  which  our  sudden  appearance 
had  was  magical.  From  the  far  end  of  the  town  we 
could  see  people  hurrying  from  the  scene  with  mules 
and  donkeys  laden  with  grain  and  provisions  ;  those 
who  remained  behind  stood  in  crowds  on  each  side  of 
the  street,  gazing  at  us  with  the  appearance  of  people 
that  had  been  suddenly  petrified. 

When  we  reached  the  centre  of  this  town  I  gave 
the  owner  of  a  little  street  stall  a  Chinese  twenty-cent 
piece  for  some  of  the  small  native  cakes  which  he  sold, 
whereupon  he  hastily  offered  me  nearly  his  whole  stock, 
while  the  bystanders  audibly  commented  on  the  mag- 
nanimity of  a  person  who,  with  twice  a  hundred  armed 
men  at  his  back,  would  consent  to  pay  for  anything. 

I  think  that  we  could  easily  have  got  recruits  if  we 
wanted  them,  for  at  Shanlinze,  not  far  from  the  railway, 
a  young  Chinese  policeman,  speaking  about  three 
words  of  Russian,  came  to  offer  his  services  as  "  boy  " 
to  any  of  us  who  wanted  to  employ  him.  None  of  us 
wanted  him,  but  nevertheless  he  discarded  his  uniform 


146  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

and  accompanied  us  for  the  next  two  days  with  his 
horse  and  rifle.  The  rifle  was  soon  rendered  useless, 
however,  by  one  of  the  Cossacks,  who  extracted  the 
lock  ;  and  this  soldier  of  fortune  was,  later  on,  dropped 
unceremoniously  en  route,  a  suspicion  that  he  was  a 
spy  having  suddenly  crossed  our  leader's  mind.  I 
believe  myself  that  he  was  simply  attracted  by  the 
blaze  of  martial  glory  which  he  saw  pass  through  his 
native  village  in  the  shape  of  our  humble  selves,  and 
I  am  afraid  that  he  must  have  had  a  hard  time  of  it 
afterwards,  for  if  he  escaped  the  Hunghuze,  whom  he 
professed  to  fear,  he  must  have  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  Chinese  authorities,  who  were  doubtless  aware 
of  his  desertion. 

On  December  23  I  went  to  sleep  as  usual  with  all 
my  clothes  on,  even  to  my  cap  and  "  polshubok,"  and 
at  two  o'clock  next  morning  I  was  awakened  and  told 
that  we  were  now  about  to  set  out  on  our  march  to 
Ta-ho-shan  station  on  the  Chinese  railway.  As  we 
rode  along,  Colonel  Plaoutine  told  me  that  the  Chinese 
policeman  who  had  enrolled  himself  in  our  band  had 
brought  him  the  cheerful  information  that  this  station 
was  guarded  by  English  soldiers.  About  the  exact 
number  of  these  soldiers  he  was  uncertain.  First  he  had 
said  that  there  were  one  thousand  men.  Then  he  had 
considerately  reduced  the  number  to  six.  There  was  a 
delightful  vagueness  about  this  which  prepared  us  for 
almost  anything  ;  but  if  there  was  only  one  English 
soldier  there,  I  felt  sure  that  he  might  fire  a  shot  that 
would  be  "  heard  round  the  world." 

Our  colonel  asked  me  somewhat  nervously  if  it  were 
possible  that  British  soldiers  occupied  this  station,  and 
I  answered  that  I  did  not  know  where  they  could  have 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     147 

come  from,  unless  some  tremendous  scheme  of  army- 
reform  had  been  suddenly  put  into  operation  since 
last  I  had  had  news  from  England.  This  grain  of 
comfort  was,  however,  modified  by  the  lurid  descrip- 
tion which  I  gave  of  the  personnel  of  the  railway  we 
were  just  going  to  tackle.  At  the  head  of  it  was 
Mr.  Kinder,  a  violent  Russophobe,  married  to  a 
Japanese  lady;  while  all  the  leading  employes,  down  to 
the  station-masters  and  conductors,  were  also  English- 
men, and  generally  ex-soldiers.  "  Naturally,"  I  added, 
"  they  all  take  their  cue  from  Mr.  Kinder,"  and  I 
assured  the  colonel  that  if  he  asked  one  of  these 
English  ex-soldier  station-masters  to  hand  over  his 
books  to  him  for  inspection,  the  Englishman  would 
undoubtedly  refuse  and  there  would  probably  be 
bloodshed.  On  hearing  this,  the  colonel  became 
very  grave,  but  said  that  he  had  been  ordered  to  see 
the  books  and  must  see  them,  bloodshed  or  no  blood- 
shed. 

The  rumour  that  the  British  were  awaiting  them  had 
a  very  enlivening  effect  on  the  Cossacks.  At  last, 
then,  they  were  to  meet  face  to  face  this  powerful, 
hostile  people  who  had,  from  their  sea-girt  fastnesses, 
directed  all  the  anti- Russian  movements  that  had  taken 
place  in  European  and  Asiatic  politics  for  the  last 
hundred  years.  I  must  say  that  the  Cossacks  never 
rode  with  such  spirit  to  encounter  the  Japanese, 
against  whom  they  never  seemed  to  have  any  grudge. 

It  was  an  ideal  Christmas  Eve.  The  moon  was 
very  bright.  The  cold  was  intense.  The  cloudless 
sky  was  studded  with  stars,  and  deep  silence  reigned 
over  the  vast  plain  which  we  were  traversing,  a 
silence    which    was    broken    only    by    the    creak   of 


148  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

leather,  the  jingle  of  steel,  and  the  steady,  rhythmic 
ring  of  twice  two  hundred  pair  of  horses'  hoofs  on 
the  ground,  which  was  frozen  hard  as  iron. 

Save  for  the  furious  barking  of  the  village  dogs, 
there  was  a  deathlike  stillness  in  the  sombre  and 
sleeping  villages  through  which  we  passed,  and,  of 
course,  not  a  light  showed. 

The  village  wells  looked  like  the  empty  sockets  of 
gigantic  candlesticks,  the  broad  sheets  of  ice  spread 
all  round  them,  and  the  rows  of  frozen  drops  hanging 
from  the  slabs  of  stone  looking,  in  the  white  moon- 
light, like  melted  candle-wax. 

Alternately  trotting  and  walking,  and  dismounting 
for  about  five  minutes  every  hour  in  order  to  ease 
our  horses,  we  at  length  drew  near  to  Ta-ho-shan. 
The  mountain  which  gives  its  name  to  the  railway 
station  rose  above  the  horizon,  and  as  it  rose  there 
was  first  one  faint  flash  of  light  from  its  summit, 
then  another ;  and  several  voices  in  our  party  ex- 
claimed simultaneously  :  "  They  are  signalling  ! " 

In  one  of  his  novels,  Sir  Walter  Scott  makes  some 
Highlanders  whisper  to  one  another  in  a  tone  almost 
of  awe  the  name  of  one  of  the  great  rivers  of  Scotland 
which  they  are  approaching  by  night  during  war-time. 

In  approaching  this  Anglo-Chinese  railway  we  ex- 
perienced the  same  superstitious  feelings.  I  say  "  we," 
for,  owing  to  the  danger  that  now  threatened  all  of 
us  in  common,  we  had  become  one  gigantic  argus-eyed 
monster  with  two  hundred  pairs  of  arms  and  one 
soul,  in  which  mine  was,  for  the  time  being,  merged, — 
a  monster  that  was  rushing  forward,  perhaps  to 
destruction.  To-night  we  could  understand  how  those 
Highlanders    felt,    for,    under   certain    conditions,    a 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     149 

railway  becomes  almost  as  romantic  and  as  awe-inspir- 
ing as  a  great  river. 

We  felt  that  we  were  rushing  into  the  lair  of  an  alien 
civilisation.  We  had  jumped  at  one  bound  from  the 
tenth  century  into  the  twentieth,  but  it  was  not  quite 
certain  yet  how  the  twentieth  would  receive  us,  for 
armed  foreigners  travelling  in  time  of  war  are  some- 
times received  unceremoniously  when  they  attempt, 
during  the  night,  to  enter  places  that  do  not  belong 
to  them. 

In  the  distance  a  railway  engine  whistled.  It 
seemed  an  alarm,  a  tocsin,  and  we  all  broke  into  a 
"  riceyou  "  (trot).  Then  the  railway  lights  came  into  view 
over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  a  high  column  of  grey 
smoke  shifting  spasmodically  hither  and  thither  indi- 
cated the  whereabouts  of  a  railway  locomotive.  After 
my  plunge  into  the  Dark  Ages,  I  watched  that  moving 
column  of  grey  smoke  with  as  much  interest  as  I  had, 
when  a  child,  gazed  on  a  railway  locomotive  for  the 
first  time. 

In  another  moment  we  had  reached  the  track. 
The  Cossacks  were  left  several  hundred  yards  behind, 
and  only  the  Russian  officers  and  myself  crossed  the 
line  and  mounted  the  platform. 

There  was  no  resistance.  There  were  no  English 
soldiers,  and  only  a  few  Chinese  sentries,  who  fled  at 
our  approach.  It  was  dark,  so  we  produced  lights  and 
went  into  the  station-master's  room.  The  station-master, 
a  small,  putty-faced  young  Chinaman,  clad  in  that  long 
robe  which  a  Celestial  seems  to  wear  day  and  night, 
came  towards  us  rubbing  his  almond  eyes  vigorously 
and  repeatedly,  and  seeming  to  be  considerably  con- 
fused.    He  gazed  in  astonishment  at  his  armed  visitors, 


150  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

whose  huge  woolly  busbies,  superabundance  of  cloth- 
ing, and  icicle-laden  beards  and  furs  gave  them  on  that 
Christmas  morning  the  appearance  of  a  number  of 
Santas  Claus. 

Colonel  Plaoutine  at  once  asked  if  there  was  an 
English  station-master,  or  any  foreigners  in  the  place. 
No,  there  were  no  foreigners  there  just  then.  Our 
leader,  who  seemed  to  be  relieved  on  hearing  this,  then 
asked  if  he  could  see  the  books,  at  the  same  time  pick- 
ing them  up  in  a  casual  sort  of  way  and  opening  them. 
These  books  did  not  indicate,  however,  that  the  railway 
was  carrying  any  contraband  of  war  to  the  Japanese  at 
Newchwang. 

"  Are  there  any  Japanese  here  ?  "  the  colonel  then 
asked  abruptly. 

"  Oh,  no ! "  returned  the  Chinaman,  in  a  sad,  re- 
proachful voice,  as  if  rebutting  a  charge  of  gross 
personal  misconduct  preferred  against  him  by  a  friend, 
the  last  person  in  the  world  from  whom  he  had  ex- 
pected such  a  stab. 

When  the  ordeal  was  over,  the  colonel  shook  hands 
with  the  station-master  and  bade  him  good-bye,  and 
the  station-master  said,  "  Please  come  again."  He 
seemed  to  be  uncertain  whether  he  was  dealing  with 
Russian  or  English  officers,  or  whether  he  was  awake 
or  dreaming. 

It  was  still  night  when  we  left  the  station,  but,  by 
the  time  that  we  had  found  ourselves  quarters  in  the 
neighbouring  village,  day  was  dawning.  On  this  occa- 
sion, and  on  the  following  morning,  the  Cossacks'  eyes 
were  wide  open  with  astonishment.  "This  is  the 
English  railway,"  they  said,  "but  where  are  the 
English  ?  "     They  had  heard  all  their  lives  long  about 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     151 

these  Englishmen,  and  for  them  the  great  attraction 
of  this  trip  was  that  it  would  bring  them  into  close 
personal  contact  with  these  fabled  beings  ;  but,  lo  and 
behold !  there  were  no  Englishmen  to  be  seen !  It 
could  not  have  been  fear  that  had  driven  the  English 
away,  for  the  visit  had  been  a  surprise.  No !  the  fact 
was  that,  just  as  those  Englishmen  had  got  the  Japanese 
to  fight  Russia  for  thern,  so  they  were  getting  the 
Chinese  to  work  their  railway  for  them.  Evidently 
they  kept,  as  a  rule,  far  in  the  mysterious  background 
and  pulled  the  strings. 

The  surprise  of  the  Cossacks  was  all  the  greater 
owing  to  the  contrast  this  railway  presented  to  their 
own.  The  Russian  line  was  alive  with  Russians — 
passengers,  waiters,  railway  officials,  clerks,  peddlers, 
and  functionaries  of  all  descriptions.  But  here  there 
was  not  a  single  white  man  to  be  seen.  Engine- 
drivers,  conductors,  station  officials  were  all  Chinese; 
yet  everything  seemed  to  work  smoothly. 

"  Where,  then,  are  the  English  ?  "  asked  the  Cos- 
sacks in  chorus. 

In  the  grey  light  of  the  early  dawn  a  goods  train 
came  along  from  the  south.  It  was  chock-full  of  goods. 
What  a  contrast  to  the  Russian  line,  which  had  for 
twelve  months  previous  been  carrying  nothing  to  the 
front  except  soldiers  and  instruments  of  destruction, 
and  nothing  to  the  rear  but  wounded  ! 

"  It's  a  fine  railway,"  remarked  one  of  the  officers 
briefly,  as  this  long  train  slid  slowly  in  and  then  came 
to  a  stop. 

"  Search  the  carriages  for  Japanese,"  said  the  colonel; 
but  there  were  evidently  no  Japanese  about.  So,  at 
least,  I  thought  at  the  time ;  but  I  have  since  come  to 


1 52  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

think  differently.  Seeing  a  Chinaman  seated  on  a  pile 
of  corn  bags  in  an  open  truck,  I  asked,  not  because  I 
wanted  particularly  to  know,  but  because  I  had  nothing 
else  to  say,  "  Yeebin  yo  mayo  ? "  ("  Are  there  any 
Japanese  about  ?  ")  ;  and  he  replied  by  pointing  to  a 
depression  in  the  pile  of  bags,  on  the  edge  of  which 
depression  stood,  outlined  against  the  eastern  sky, 
one  of  those  small,  frayed,  brown  leather  hand-bags 
which  Japanese  will,  for  some  reason  or  other,  persist 
in  carrying  with  them  wherever  they  go. 

"  By  Jove!  there's  a  Jap  here,  sure  enough,"  I  said 
to  myself,  as  I  clambered  up  on  the  truck  so  as  to  have 
a  better  view  of  the  inside  of  the  aforesaid  depression. 
I  was  disappointed,  however ;  for  inside  there  peace- 
fully slept  a  young  Chinese,  pigtail  and  all  complete. 
Subsequent  reflection  has  led  me  to  entertain  doubts, 
however,  about  the  genuineness  of  that  pigtail ;  but 
even  had  a  Japanese  soldier  been  there  in  full  uniform, 
I  should  not,  of  course,  have  felt  myself  justified,  under 
the  circumstances,  in  making  his  presence  known.  It 
was  not  my  business. 

The  passenger  train  from  Tsinmintun  was  due  at 
9.30  a.m.,  and  Colonel  Plaoutine  sent  an  officer  and  a 
Cossack  guard  to  the  station  to  have  a  look  at  it. 
They  did  no  more.  The  Cossacks  stared  for  all  they 
were  worth  at  the  Chinese  passengers  with  which  the 
train  was  laden,  and  the  Chinese  passengers  stared 
blankly  at  the  weapons  and  the  wolfish  busbies  of  the 
Russians. 

The  station-master  then  appeared  on  the  scene,  and 
told  us  about  some  Russian  deserters  who  had  passed 
that  way  some  days  before.  Having  said  this,  he 
paused  to  see  if  we  would  confess  that  it  was  these 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     153 

deserters  that  we  were  looking  after.  He  also  told 
me  in  a  confidential  manner  that  he  knew  from  the 
way  I  spoke  that  I  was  an  Englishman,  and  then  he 
tried  to  extract  information  out  of  me.  In  a  flash  I 
saw  that  he  had  become  a  different  man  since  I  had 
seen  him  last.  Somebody  had  been  galvanising  this 
Oriental.  He  had  had  a  wire  from  Peking,  and  it 
was  no  longer  a  Chinaman  that  I  was  dealing  with, 
but  the  wizard  Morrison  or  the  astute  Kinder. 

"  PhilipofT,"  said  I,  turning  to  my  Cossack,  "  you 
ask  me  where  the  English  are.  Well,  the  English  are 
here." 

At  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  started  on 
our  homeward  march.  On  the  way  we  picked  up  a 
flock  of  fine  sheep,  which  we  paid  for.  Soon  after, 
when  at  a  distance  of  about  twelve  versts  from  Ta-ho- 
shan,  we  selected  a  number  of  cattle,  but  the  Chinese 
owners  refused,  in  what  seemed  to  me  to  be  an  obstinate 
and  exasperating  manner,  to  let  us  have  them.  We 
said  that  we  would  pay  for  them,  but  they  said  they 
did  not  want  to  take  money.  They  would  not  sell 
their  cattle  ;  they  wanted  them  back  instantly.  That 
was  all.  Amid  the  hubbub  caused  by  this  unexpected 
obstinacy,  an  incident  that  took  place  at  the  front 
escaped  attention.  A  Cossack  soon  dashed  in,  how- 
ever, at  full  speed  to  report  it.  One  of  the  two  men  who 
always  ride  at  some  distance  in  front  of  the  vanguard 
had  been  shot  by  a  Hunghuze.  Immediately,  the 
cattle  were  relinquished  and  the  sheep  also,  and  we 
all  started  forward  at  the  gallop. 

"  The  Hunghuze !  The  Hunghuze ! "  was  the  word 
hat  ran  down  along  the  line. 

We  seemed  to  think  that  it  was  merely  a  matter  of 


iS4  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

riding  into  a  group  of  indifferently-armed  robbers  and 
slashing  them  to  pieces,  and  were  consequently  as  full 
of  innocent  glee  as  children  who  have  been  just 
released  from  school.  Not  one  of  us  seemed  to  foresee 
at  this  moment  the  dreariness  and  the  horror  of  the 
night  which  followed.  We  soon  passed  a  poor  Cossack 
lying  on  the  ground  with  a  broken  arm.  The  "feld- 
sher  "  was  giving  him  first  aid  ;  his  horse  was  standing 
beside  him,  and  some  of  his  comrades  were  helping  him. 

There  was  a  village  close  by,  and  in  front  of  it  two 
parties  of  Cossacks  dismounted  and  prepared  to  fire. 
In  another  instant  the  unfortunate  hamlet  would  have 
been  raked  with  bullets — for  we  did  not  know  but 
that  it  might  be  filled  with  Hunghuze — but  luckily 
our  leader  changed  his  mind  and  ordered  his  men 
only  to  advance  and  search  the  houses.  Each  party 
that  advanced  was  headed  by  an  officer,  sword  in 
hand ;  and  the  search  which  they  made  was 
remarkably  thorough. 

I  accompanied  the  Cossacks  into  the  village  and  was 
struck  by  the  contrast  between  the  set  faces  and  reso- 
lute demeanour  of  the  soldiers  and  the  stupid  counten- 
ances of  the  Chinese,  who  seemed  unable  to  realise 
the  danger  in  which  they  stood,  and  who  kept  feebly 
wailing  in  chorus  "Hunghuze  mayo  ....  Hunghuze 
mayo.  .  .  .  Hunghuze  dalyoko  dalyoko."  ("  There 
are  no  robbers  here.  There  are  no  robbers  here. 
They  are  far  away.") 

One  old  man  who  was  driving  a  little  donkey  which 
was  attached  to  a  big  cylindrical  stone  under  which 
corn  was  being  ground,  told  us  this  over  his  shoulder 
and  continued  at  his  work.  He  did  not  seem  to  know 
how  near  he  was  to  death. 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     155 

While  this  search  was  going  on,  and  while  other 
parties  of  Cossacks  were  scouring  the  neighbourhood 
in  all  directions,  the  robber  had  met  his  doom.  One 
of  our  vanguard  had  noticed  him  a  few  versts  further 
on,  riding  in  the  plain,  a  most  suspicious-looking 
object,  mounted  on  a  Chinese  pony  and  armed  with  a 
rifle,  and  had  charged  down  on  him  at  once.  The 
robber  made  no  attempt  to  escape.  Reining  in  his 
pony  and  unslinging  his  rifle,  he  calmly  awaited  the 
on-coming  horseman,  and,  taking  deliberate  aim,  had 
shot  him  at  close  quarters  in  the  stomach.  But  the 
wound,  though  it  finally  proved  mortal,  failed  to  stop 
the  career  of  the  Russian,  who  had  just  time  to  give 
the  Hunghuze  a  sword-cut  that  severed  his  jugular  vein. 
Then  the  Cossack  fell  from  the  saddle  that  he  never 
sat  in  again. 

Before  dying,  the  u  razboyneek"  made  some  remark- 
able statements.  He  said  that  he  was  one  of  Tulen- 
san's  men  (Tulensan  was  the  most  formidable  robber 
chieftain  in  Manchuria),  and  that  there  were  a  Japanese 
general  (!)and  ten  Japanese  officers  among  the  Hung- 
huze all  of  whom  were  now  paid  by  the  Japanese. 
What  interested  us  more  was  his  statement  that, 
in  the  village  which  we  had  occupied  the  previous 
night,  there  was  a  band  of  his  brethren,  a  thousand 
strong,  anxiously  awaiting  us,  and  that  he  was  one  of 
their  scouts.  A  letter  was  found  on  his  body  and 
afterwards  translated.  It  was  addressed  to  his  "  fifth 
brother,"  also  apparently  in  the  Hunghuze  business, 
but  contained  little  of  interest,  being  full  of  the  obscure 
allusions  to  domestic  details  and  pre-arranged  plans 
which — with  abrupt  gaps  between — are  to  be  found 
in  the  letters  of  the  uneducated   all  over  the  world. 


156  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

In  this  letter  he  also  asked  his  brother  to  buy  rifles 
and  ammunition  for  the  band,  these,  as  well  as  money, 
being  scarce. 

In  no  way  did  this  document  resemble  any  of  the 
remarkable  epistles  found  on  the  Japanese  Hunghuze 
who  were  killed  in  Kobe  and  Tokio  before  the  revo- 
lution of  1868,  there  being  no  patriotic  allusions  in  it 
and  no  denunciation  of  foreigners.  The  writer  never 
once  seemed  to  rise  above  the  level  of  the  ordinary 
workaday  highwayman,  which  was  surprising,  con- 
sidering the  manly  way  in  which  he  had  met  his  death. 

I  photographed  him  as  he  lay  dead  on  the  ground, 
which  was  ruddy  with  his  blood.  He  was  a  strongly 
formed  Chinese,  somewhat  above  the  middle  height 
and  between  thirty  and  forty  years  of  age.  His 
dress  was  the  blue  dress  of  the  ordinary  native,  the 
only  thing  distinctive  about  him  being  his  new  shoes, 
which  resembled  those  worn  by  Chinese  policemen. 
Either  he  had  himself  served  in  the  police  force,  or 
else  he  had  killed  a  policeman  for  his  foot-gear.  I  am 
sure  that  the  body  was  soon  stripped  by  the  local 
villagers  for  the  sake  of  the  clothes  ;  but,  if  the  dogs 
did  not  devour  it,  it  must  have  lain  there  naked  in  a 
perfect  state  of  preservation  owing  to  the  cold,  for  the 
next  three  months.  We  took  the  Hunghuze's  pony 
and  rifle.     The  latter  was  a  Russian  service  rifle. 

Darkness  was  now  closing  in,  and  the  prospects  in 
front  of  us  were  anything  but  cheerful.  If  we  had 
come  across  that  band  of  Hunghuze  I  am  afraid  that 
it  would  have  fared  but  ill  with  us,  had  they  all  been 
as  cool  and  as  well  armed  as  the  gentleman  we  had  just 
killed,  for  the  two  wounded  men  whom  we  had  now 
on  our  hands  greatly  hampered  our  retreat.     I  coul^ 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS     157 

never  have  believed,  had  I  not  seen  it,  that  two  men 
could  so  impede  the  march  of  two  hundred.  They 
were  both  carried  on  stretchers,  one  by  his  comrades 
and  the  other  by  villagers  who  had  been  impressed  for 
the  purpose,  and  who  were  frequently  replaced  by  fresh 
men  from  other  villages  that  we  passed  through,  and, 
as  these  bearers  went  on  foot,  we  were  all  reduced  to 
a  very  slow  walking  pace,  which  was  as  irritating  to 
our  horses  as  it  was  to  us.  If,  at  this  stage,  a  few 
hundred  Hunghuze  had  begun  sniping  us — and,  even 
by  night,  it  would  not  have  been  difficult  for  them  to 
hit  somebody  in  such  a  large  body  of  men — there 
would  have  been  nothing  for  us  to  do  but  to  run  for  it, 
leaving  such  of  our  wounded  as  could  not  ride,  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  the  Celestials.  If  we  did  not  do  so, 
we  should  have  been  all  cut  off. 

Needless  to  say,  we  kept  a  sharp  look-out,  for  we 
expected  an  attack  every  moment.  At  seven  o'clock 
we  noticed  a  fire  that  looked  like  a  signal,  at  a  great 
distance  to  the  right,  and  at  the  same  time  a  powerful, 
steady,  blood-red  glow  appeared  on  the  horizon  to  our 
left.  The  peculiar  appearance  of  the  latter  puzzled  us 
until  we  found  that  it  was  the  rising  moon  ! 

It  was  now  out  of  the  question  for  us  to  put  up  at 
any  village  in  this  dangerous  neighbourhood,  and  our 
only  hope  lay  in  gaining,  by  a  circuitous  night  march, 
comparative  safety  and  the  banks  of  the  Liao. 

For  hour  after  hour  I  saw  nothing  but  the  same 
distant,  dim  horizon  fringed  with  trees.  The  frozen 
ground  sparkled  in  the  moonlight  with  diamond-like 
points  of  frost.  Every  strip  of  white  snow  that 
gleamed  in  the  distance  seemed  to  me  to  be  the 
longed-for   Liao-ho,  but,  after  being  disappointed   a 


158  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

hundred  times,  I  began  to  think  that  we  should  never 
reach  that  friendly  stream.  Becoming  impatient  at 
the  slowness  of  our  progress  I  once  rode  on  until  I 
had  almost  reached  the  two  horsemen  who  formed  our 
extreme  van.  Then  I  looked  back  and,  for  a  fraction 
of  a  second,  a  spasm  of  fear  seized  me.  I  was  alone 
on  this  blasted  heath  between  God  and  the  world,  and 
slowly  towards  me,  with  resounding  jingle  as  of  chains, 
crawled  a  long,  dark  dragon,  an  articulated  monster, 
on  whose  bristles  of  steel  the  starlight  flashed. 

My  horse  was  dead  tired  after  the  great  work  that 
he  had  done  for  the  previous  week,  so  that  I  walked 
a  good  deal  on  foot.  I  was  probably  more  tired 
than  he  was,  but  then  he  was  absolutely  necessary 
for  my  safety.  It  is  extraordinary  what  a  lot  of 
interest  one  takes  in  his  horse  during  war-time.  It 
becomes  a  part  of  one's  own  body,  and  is  looked  after 
with  corresponding  care.  You  are  more  alarmed  at 
your  horse's  appetite  falling  off  than  at  your  own. 
You  take  a  far  keener  interest  in  its  hoofs  than  you 
do  in  your  own  corns.  You  frequently  examine  its 
back  to  see  that  it  is  not  getting  saddle-sores.  You 
arrange  the  blanket  under  the  saddle,  with  the  same 
care  as  you  would  arrange  a  shawl  on  the  shoulders  of 
a  fair  lady.  I  can  now  understand  why  statues  to 
great  warriors  always  represent  them  on  horseback. 
Another  reason  why  I  walked  on  foot  was  because  that, 
in  spite  of  my  heavy  furs,  I  felt  freezing  cold  on  horse- 
back. 

Owing  to  my  fatigued  condition  and  to  the  weight 
of  my  carbine  and  cartridges,  I  often  lagged  behind, 
whereupon  the  Cossacks  would  call  out  on  Philipoff  to 
wait  for  his  master,  "the  gospodeen  korrespondent " 


A  CHRISTMAS  WITH  THE  COSSACKS      159 

(Monsieur  le  correspondant).  When,  finally,  we  did 
reach  the  Liao-ho,  I  was  too  tired  to  look  at  it.  My 
only  desire  was  to  find  a  vacant  "  kang  "  in  the  village 
at  which  we  stopped,  and  I  must  confess  with  shame 
that  on  this  Christmas  night  I  heard  without  an  atom  of 
sympathy — in  fact  only  with  irritation — the  wail  of 
women  and  children  who  were  turned  out  of  their  beds 
and  houses  at  that  hour  of  the  night  to  make  room  for 
the  tired  and  desperate  soldiery. 

In  the  one  unoccupied  house  which  I  and  some 
officers  at  length  discovered,  we  encountered  unex- 
pected opposition.  The  gate  was  barricaded,  and 
when  we  climbed  over  the  barricade  we  were  met  by 
three  tall  figures,  all  dressed  from  head  to  foot  in 
white,  who  raised  their  arms  and  solemnly  warned  us 
not  to  enter.  On  finding  that  these  people  were 
Mahommedan  Chinese  and  were  in  mourning  for  their 
father,  whose  dead  body  lay  inside,  we  desisted  in 
something  like  a  panic  and  went  elsewhere. 

Late  next  night,  when  we  were  sleeping  in  another 
village  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Liao,  we  were 
awakened  by  a  scout,  who  came  to  tell  us  in  a  some- 
what scared  tone  of  voice  that  he  heard  a  drum 
("baraban  ")  beating  in  the  village  where  we  had  slept 
the  night  before.  Whether  this  eerie  performance  had 
anything  to  do  with  our  attempt  to  enter  the  house  of 
death  I  cannot  say.  We  did  not  stop  to  see.  But, 
trifling  as  it  may  seem,  the  faint  roll  of  that  Chinese 
drum,  beating  in  the  night  on  the  frozen  banks  of  the 
Liao-ho,  impressed  my  imagination  as  strongly  as 
anything  that  I  saw  or  heard  throughout  the  war. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MISHCHENKO'S  RAID 

The  advance  of  Mishchenko's  three  columns  was  the 
best  thing  from  the  spectacular  point  of  view  which  I 
saw  during  the  war,  and,  if  not  very  successful,  it  was, 
at  any  rate,  the  most  daring  enterprise  which  the 
Russians  essayed. 

On  December  26,  the  day  after  the  Russian 
Christmas,  or  January  8  with  us,  General  Mishchenko 
crossed  the  Hun  River,  near  Suhudyapu,  at  the  head  of 
twelve  regiments,  that  is  seventy-two  squadrons  of 
cavalry,  with  the  object  of  destroying  nine  million 
roubles'  worth  of  stores  which  the  Japanese  had 
accumulated  at  Yinkow  for  the  use  of  their  army,  and 
which  they  had  only  left  three  hundred  men  to  guard. 
The  Russians  had,  of  course,  agents  in  Yinkow, 
who  made  them  acquainted  with  these  facts,  and  the 
expedition  of  Colonel  Plaoutine,  as  well  as  various 
expeditions  of  other  detachments  of  Mishchenko's 
command — one  of  which,  carried  out  by  the  Tersko- 
Kubansky  regiment,  a  force  of  Caucasian  volunteers, 
went  as  far  south  as  the  Taitsze  River — disclosed  the 
fact  that,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  small  and  isolated 
Japanese  posts  at  Shalin,  east  of  Liaoyang,  at  old 
Newchwang,  and  in  one  or  two  other  places,  the 
road  from  Mukden  to  Yinkow,  along  the  eastern  bank 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  161 

of  the  Liao-ho,  was  practically  open.  Mishchenko 
would  not,  of  course,  refrain  from  destroying  any  force 
of  Japanese  or  Hunghuze,  or  from  burning  any  of 
the  enemy's  transports  that  he  came  across,  but  his 
main  object  was  Yinkow.     • 

Naturally  this  was  kept  secret,  and  in  spite  of  all  that 
has  been  said  about  the  excellent,  not  to  say  miracu- 
lous, manner  in  which  their  Chinese  agents  served 
them,  the  Japanese  did  not  seem  to  have  suspected, 
until  we  had  almost  reached  Yinkow,  that  our  raid 
was  anything  more  than  one  of  the  usual  small  Cossack 
forays  against  the  Hunghuze.  The  cutting  of  the 
railway  between  Liaoyang  and  Yinkow  in  order  to 
prevent  the  despatch  of  troops  southwards,  was  a 
necessary  part  of  Mishchenko's  plan.  I  must  say, 
however,  that  at  first  I  did  not  know  where  Mishchenko 
was  going  to,  and  this  secrecy  made  the  expedition 
extremely  attractive  to  my  imagination.  The  Cossack 
officers  said  that  we  were  about  to  march  against 
China,  and  my  profound  ignorance  of  what  was  hap- 
pening at  that  time  in  the  outside  world  led  me  to 
believe  it.  There  is  a  charm  sometimes  in  being  out 
of  the  world,  in  a  place  where  you  don't  get  your 
morning  newspaper  ;  news  from  the  outside  then 
becomes  so  beautifully  vague  !  I  had  not  seen  any 
papers  for  months  before,  and  I  was  not  at  all  sur- 
prised, in  consequence,  to  learn  that  this  expedition 
would  cross  the  Liao-ho  and  that  it  might  be  followed 
by  trouble  with  England  and  the  dismemberment  of 
the  Middle  Kingdom.  Why,  this  day  week  we  might 
be  stabling  our  horses  in  the  Imperial  Palace  at 
Peking !  "  What's  the  game  now  ?  "  I  asked  myself  a 
thousand  times  as  I  walked  along  the  frozen  street  of 


1 62  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

our  village.  M  I  would  give  anything  to  know. 
Russia  going  purposely  to  fasten  a  quarrel  on 
China  in  order  to  extend  the  area  of  the  war  and 
to  give  an  excuse  for  the  seizure  of  Turkestan, 
Mongolia  and  even,  perhaps,  Peking  ?  "  There  was 
nothing  unlikely  in  this.  England  would  cheerfully 
have  done  it  in  the  grand  old  days  before  she  had  got 
tired  of  land-grabbing.  But  what  an  international  sin  ! 
The  stupendous  nature  of  the  crime  appalled  and 
fascinated  me.  It  brought  back  memories  of  the  Tsar 
Peter  and  of  Frederick  the  Great.  "  I  am  now,"  said 
I  to  myself,  "  about  to  see  the  initiation  of  a  move- 
ment compared  to  which  the  Russo-Japanese  war  is 
as  nothing.  I  must  therefore  move  heaven  and  earth 
for  permission  to  accompany  this  raid." 

The  day  before  we  started  was  the  Russian  Christmas 
Day,  which,  like  good  Christians,  we  observed.by  eating 
"kootia"  and  "varenookha"  and  by  holding  high  revel. 
Strangely  enough,  it  was  in  the  midst  of  this  revel 
that  I  first  heard  of  the  fall  of  Port  Arthur.  Colonel 
Orloff  had  ridden  in,  late  at  night,  and  his  first  words, 
uttered  in  a  low  tone  to  a  brother  officer,  were  "  Port 
Arthur  is  fallen,  is  fallen."  But  few  of  the  officers 
and  none  of  the  men  knew  it  until  weeks  had  elapsed. 

Mishchenko  had  with  him,  in  addition  to  his  twelve 
regiments  of  dragoons  and  Cossacks,  twenty-two 
cannon,  that  is  almost  three  batteries.  Two  of  these 
batteries  fired  melanite,  the  rest  shrapnel.  All  of  them 
were,  of  course,  horse  batteries,  six  horses  pulling  each 
gun.  There  were,  besides,  four  Maxims  with  the  Dag- 
hestan  regiment,  but  these  useful  little  guns  were  never, 
I  think,  used  during  the  advance  southward.  We 
marched  in  three  columns.     The  right  column,  which 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  163 

consisted  of  the  Primorsky,  Nerjinsky  and  [Chernig- 
ovsky  Dragoons  and  the  Frontier  Guards,  was  com- 
manded by  General  Samsonoff,  and  until  the  main 
force  reached  the  Taitsze  it  traversed  the  west  bank  of 
the  Liao-ho. 

The  central  column  consisted  of  the  Zaiba'ikal 
Cossacks,  that  is,  of  the  Verkhnyudinsky  and  Chitinsky 
regiments,  and  of  the  Ural  Cossacks.  It  was  com- 
manded by  General  Abramoff,  the  leader  of  the  Ural 
Cossacks,  and  General  Mishchenko  accompanied  it. 

The  left  column  consisted  of  the  Don  Cossacks  and 
of  the  Caucasian  brigade.  It  was  under  the  command 
of  General  Tyeleschoff  and  was  followed  by  the 
Zaiba'ikal  battery,  the  soldiers  of  which  bear  in  front 
of  their  black  busbies  a  metallic  scroll  commemorating 
their  bravery  during  the  Boxer  troubles.  Besides, 
there  was  the  mounted  infantry,  a  fine  body  of  men 
who  should  alone  have  carried  Yinkow  station  on 
January  12.  As  is  pretty  well  known,  each  Russian 
regiment  of  foot  has  attached  to  it  about  one  hundred 
cavalrymen.  As,  under  the  conditions  which  then 
prevailed  at  the  front,  these  horsemen  were  unneces- 
sary there,  they  were  all  drafted  for  the  time  being 
into  Mishchenko's  detachment,  which  therefore 
amounted  in  all  to  some  7500  men.  From  this  force 
different  parties  were  from  time  to  time  detached  for 
the  purpose  of  cutting  the  railway,  but  of  this  here- 
after. The  four  Maxims  went  with  the  Daghestan 
regiment  of  the  Caucasian  brigade,  but  it  was  not  the 
Caucasians  who  were  supposed  to  work  these  guns. 
Trained  men  had  been  brought  from  St.  Petersburg 
for  that  purpose.  They  were  under  the  command  of 
Captain  Chaplin,  a  promising  young  officer  who  had 


164  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

served  in  the  artillery  at  Warsaw,  but  who  was  un- 
fortunately the  first  man  to  fall  on  the  occasion  of  thi< 
expedition. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day  all  our  different 
columns  met  at  a  village  called   Sifontai,  east  of  the 
Hun  river,  and  what  a  picturesque  gathering  that  was! 
When  I  attempt  to  catalogue  the  different  forces  which 
composed  it   I  feel  inclined,  like  Homer,  to  call  upon 
the  daughters  of  Jove  to  assist  me,  for  of  myself  I  am 
not  able  to  do  justice  to  so  vast  a  subject.     It  was  one 
of  the  most  composite  forces  that  ever  met  together  in 
Asia,  a  force  worthy  of  "the  mighty  behemoth  of 
Muscovy,   the   potentate   who  counts  three  hundred 
languages   around   the  footsteps  of  his  throne."      It 
comprised    Buriats,    Tunguses,     Baskirs,     Kirghises, 
mountaineers  from  Daghestan,  Tartars,  Cossacks  of 
Orenburg,  Cossacks  from  the  Don,  children  of   the 
men    who   had    won    such    victories    in    Italy  under 
SuwarofT,    who    had    captured   Napoleon    at    Malo- 
Yaroslavetz,    who    had    chased    Jerome    Bonaparte 
from   his   throne,    who    had   pitched     their   tents    in 
the    Champs-Elysees,    Buriats,    whose  race  has  pro- 
duced   "  the    most    terrible    phenomena    by    which 
humanity  has   ever  been   scourged  .  .  .  the  Mongol 
Genghis  Khan,"  descendants  of  the   men  who  had 
followed  the  Scourge  of  God,  flat-nosed  Kalmuks  whose 
very  name  recalls  that  great  flight   to    China  which 
De   Quincey  has   immortalised,  descendants    of   the 
Zaporogian  Cossacks,  that  semi-religious  order  of  blood- 
thirsty celibates  who  made  their  lair  in  the  islands  of 
the  lower  Dneiper.      Mishchenko's  force  seemed  to 
contain  within  it  all  the  elements  of  a  Yellow  Peril, 
combined  with  a  faint  hint  of  a  Moslem  Peril. 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  165 

Their  green  banners  embroidered  with  red  inscrip- 
tions in  Arabic — all  texts  from  the  Koran — the  Cau- 
casians rode  past  on  their  graceful  Arab  steeds. 
Among  them  was  a  representative  of  every  race  and 
language  in  the  Caucasus.  They  were  those  Moham- 
medan mountaineers  who  held  Russia  at  bay  for  a 
century.  All  of  them  were  splendid  at  single  combat, 
and  bore  swords  of  the  best  tempered  steel.  The 
young  men  were  often  singularly  handsome,  with 
figures  like  Greek  statues,  oval  heads,  bold  noble  pro- 
files, large  dark  eyes,  delicately  chiselled  lips,  and 
most  murderous  dispositions.  It  is  impossible  for  me 
to  give  an  idea  of  the  proud  dignity  of  their  bearing, 
the  grace  of  their  movements  and  the  fire  of  their  look. 
They  had  got  amongst  them  an  extraordinary  and 
valuable  collection  of  fine  Circassian  swords  and 
daggers,  with  damascened  blades,  often  inlaid  with 
gold,  and  always  channelled  so  as  to  let  the  blood 
spurt  out.  Latin  invocations  to  the  Blessed  Virgin 
inlaid  in  some  of  the  blades  seemed  to  indicate  that 
they  had  changed  hands  as  often  as  the  poniard  to 
which  Lermontov  devotes  one  of  his  poems.  The 
sheaths  of  their  numerous  daggers  terminated  in  a 
metal  drop  suggestive  of  blood.  Their  carabines  they 
carried  in  covers  of  sheepskin  with  the  hair  outside, 
and  they  had  also  on  their  stirrups  sheepskin  covers, 
which  are  admirable  protections  against  the  cold. 
Later  on  I  regretted  exceedingly  not  having  got  such 
stirrup-covers  myself. 

The  same  thing  always  happened  when  a  Caucasian 
mounted  his  horse.  One  caught  sight  of  him  poised 
for  a  moment  on  one  stirrup  while  the  horse  reared 
and   pranced  ;   then  there  was  a  flop  of  variegated 


i66  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

petticoats,  a  jingle  of  spurs,  a  rattle  of  weapons,  and 
the  rider  had  tumbled  into  the  saddle  and  was  telling 
his  still  prancing  steed,  in  tones  with  more  of  admira- 
tion in  them  than  of  anger,  that  he  was  naughty,  very 
naughty. 

None  of  those  Caucasians  spoke  any  Russian,  a  fact 
which  detracted  seriously  from  their  value  as  scouts. 
To  make  matters  worse,  there  were  in  our  little  force 
of  Caucasians  about  fifteen  completely  different 
languages,  and  it  was  very  seldom  that  a  man  spoke 
more  than  two  or  three  of  those  languages  at  most. 
The  Russians  explained  this  diversity  of  tongues 
by  saying  that  every  invader  of  Europe  had  passed 
through  the  Caucasus,  leaving  amid  these  mountains 
a  handful  of  his  people  who  immediately  proceeded  to 
form  a  new  community,  until,  finally,  that  country 
became  the  ethnological  museum  it  is  to-day. 

However  they  may  rank  as  regular  soldiers,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  in  private  life  these  Mohammedans 
are  fierce.  The  first  day  I  spent  with  them  I  saw  one 
man  draw  his  sword  on  another  over  some  dispute 
about  fodder.  An  officer,  who  was  standing  by,  wearily 
told  him  to  put  up  his  weapon.  "  Reserve  it  for  the 
Japanese,"  he  said,  and  then  he  resumed  an  interrupted 
conversation  about  the  latest  opera  at  Bayreuth. 

I  do  not  know  if  Russia  did  a  wise  thing  in  sending 
these  men  out  to  Manchuria  at  all,  for  if  there  is  any 
truth  in  the  accusations  of  barbarity  the  Japanese  have 
made,  these  Caucasians  must — although  nearly  all  of 
them  are  princes — have  been  the  guilty  parties.  They 
are  decidedly  picturesque,  it  is  true,  but  they  are  not 
much  good  against  plain  unimpressive  foot  soldiers. 
Then  again,  they  came  to  Manchuria  under  a  misap- 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  167 

prehension.  They  thought  the  war  with  Japan  would 
be  run  on  exactly  the  same  lines  as  the  war  with 
China ;  and  they  cannot  be  blamed  for  falling  into  this 
mistake,  since  their  officers  also  thought  so.  As  soon 
as  they  had  ascertained  that  the  Japanese  were  not 
naked  savages,  armed  with  bows  and  arrows,  they  got 
discontented  and  wanted  to  go  home,  but  were  refused 
permission  to  do  so,  whereupon  many  deserted  and  were 
immediately  caught  and  shot. 

The  Russian  non-commissioned  officers  amongst 
these  Caucasians  belong  to  the  Cossacks  of  Kuban 
and  Terek,  the  "  line  of  the  Caucasus,"  names  of  rivers 
which  recall  bloody  battles  and  the  memory  of  the 
unhappy  Lermontov.  Up  till  a  short  time  ago  they 
fought  continuously  against  these  fierce  Tcherkesses, 
whose  arms  and  equipment  they  have  adopted,  and 
whose  very  features  they  seem  to  have  borrowed — a 
fact  which  is  explained  by  a  venerable  custom  these 
Cossacks  still  have  of  massacring  all  the  men  in  an 
aoul  and  conveying  the  best  looking  women  to  their 
"  Stanitzi  "  in  order  to  marry  them. 

Like  the  Transbaikal  and  unlike  the  Ural  or  Don 
or  Black  Sea  Cossacks,  these  Caucasians  have  no 
lances,  but  depend  altogether  on  their  good  sabres. 
Among  them  rode  the  grandson  of  I  mum  Schamyl,  who 
within  the  memory  of  living  men  troubled  Russia  with 
a  guerilla  warfare,  which  he  conducted  with  a  genius 
and  energy  scarcely  paralleled  in  history.  The  St. 
George's  Cross,  which  the  aged  standard-bearer  of  the 
Daghistan  regiment  wore,  was  won  on  the  day  that 
Schamyl  surrendered. 

At  the  head  of  the  Caucasian  brigade  was  Prince 
Orbelliani,  of  an  ancient  Georgian  family,  which  claims 


168  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

to  be  descended  from  two  Chinese  princes  who  obtained 
in  240  a.d.  the  protection  of  Artaxerxes,  whose  son 
Sapor  transferred  them  with  their  followers  to  Armenia. 
Prince  Orbelliani  did  not,  however,  take  part  in 
the  raid,  being  sick  at  Harbin,  but  his  place  was 
taken  by  an  equally  picturesque  figure,  Prince  (Han) 
Nahitchivansky,  a  Mohammedan  nobleman.  The 
adjutant  of  Prince  Nahitchivansky  bore  the  name  of 
Hadji  Murat,  a  name  which  speaks  for  itself. 

The  names  of  the  officers  with  whom  I  rode  were 
all  historical.  Some  of  them  are  borne  by  the 
oldest  Cossack  families — Grekoff,  Plaoutine,  Platoff, 
Kaznetzoff,  Krasnoff.  One  young  colonel  from  the 
General  Staff,  who  accompanied  us  bore  the  name  of 
that  gigantic  barbarian  who  loved  Catherine  the  Great 
and  who  strangled  her  Imperial  husband.  He  is  a 
polished  diplomatist,  a  great  linguist,  a  landowner,  a 
courtier,  an  influential  man  at  headquarters.  He  rode 
on  this  occasion  a  horse  which  was  almost  worth  its 
weight  in  gold,  and,  according  to  his  invariable  custom 
on  such  occasions,  carried  in  his  pocket  a  copy  of  one 
of  Shakespeare's  plays.  His  knowledge  of  English 
literature  and  of  every  nuance  of  expression  in  the 
English  language  is  extraordinarily  extensive. 

The  colonel  of  the  regiment  to  which  I  was  attached 
was  called  Bunting,  and  was  of  English  descent.  One 
of  the  officers,  a  polite  and  well-educated  young  man 
from  the  Guards,  was  of  Tartar  descent,  as  his  name, 
Turbin,  indicates.  Another  was  young  Burtin,  at  one 
and  the  same  time  lieutenant  in  the  Arab  cavalry  of 
France  and  centurion  in  the  Mongol  Cossacks  of 
Mishchenko. 

To  make  our  crowd  still  more  variegated,  there  was  a 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  169 

full-blooded  negro  in  it.  He  had  been  born  in  the 
Caucasus,  spoke  only  Russian,  and  seemed  to  be 
exactly  on  an  equality  with  his  white  comrades-in- 
arms. With  the  exception  of  Burtin,  I  was  the  only 
non-Russian  at  this  memorable  trysting-place  in  the 
valley  of  the  Liao-ho. 

However  much  I  might  try  to  persuade  myself  that 
the  Cossack  is  a  thing  of  the  past,  I  could  not  fail  to 
be  impressed  by  this  great  gathering  of  the  men 
who  guard  the  Russian  frontier  from  the  shores  of  the 
Pacific  to  the  shores  of  the  ebony  and  amber  sea,  and 
whose  very  designation,  recalling  the  names  of  great 
rebels  like  Mazeppa,  Stenka  Razin,  Pugatcheff,  the 
false  Dimitri,  made  me  see,  dimly,  gigantic  upheavals 
more  Asiatic  than  European,  and  made  me  hear  faintly, 
as  at  a  great  distance,  the  hoof-beats  of  innumerable 
hordes  of  horsemen  galloping  over  the  steppes.  The 
Cossacks  cannot  fail  to  be  interesting,  for  they  are  the 
only  reminder  we  have  left  of  the  time  when  the  popu- 
lation of  Europe  was  fluid  and  nomad. 

How  many  shades  of  Christianity,  Mohammedism, 
Lamaism,  and  Buddhism  there  were  amongst  us  I 
dared  not  inquire.  When  at  set  of  sun  I  saw  the 
Mohammedan  pray  with  face  turned  towards  Mecca,  I 
felt  as  if  I  were  in  a  Turkish  army.  When  I  saw  the 
Russian  kiss  the  collection  of  ikons  and  crucifixes  that 
he  wore  around  his  neck,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  among 
Crusaders.  When  the  indolent  Mongol  laughed  at  both 
Mohammedan  and  Christian,  I  felt  that  I  was  back  in 
my  own  century. 

Thus  we  marched  along  in  peace,  each  praying  to 
God  in  his  own  way,  some  not  praying  at  all.  We 
were  an  overflow  from  the  great  Muscovite  crucible, 


170  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

in  which  all  sorts  of  strange  undigested  elements  boil 
and  bubble  without  ever  uniting  ;  and  behind  us  came 
a  helter-skelter  of  little  cows  trampling  in  a  cloud  of 
dust,  beef  still  on  the  hoof,  driven  with  blows  of  whip 
by  a  warlike  people  in  migration. 

I  have  already  said  that  I  was  with  the  left  column, 
but  I  could  make  out  distinctly  with  the  naked  eye  the 
long  line  of  horsemen  composing  the  central  column. 
These  horsemen  were  generally  on  the  very  verge  of 
the  horizon,  and  owing,  I  suppose,  to  the  clearness  and 
dryness  of  the  air,  their  figures  were  frequently  sil- 
houetted with  marvellous  distinctness  against  the  void 
of  heaven,  so  that  they  looked  like  the  little  bronze 
Cossacks  of  Lanceray  or  Gratchoff,  and  that,  in  spite 
of  the  distance,  I  could  see  white  atoms  of  dazzling 
sky  between  the  horses'  legs  as  they  moved.  To  our 
left  rode  a  strong  flanking  party,  and,  in  all,  the  length 
of  front  swept  by  the  three  columns  could  not  have 
been  less  than  five  miles. 

It  must  not  be  imagined,  of  course,  that  there  were 
five  solid  miles  of  soldiers.  We  only  moved  four  or 
five  abreast,  so  that  each  column  resembled  a  long 
snake  crawling  slowly  southward.  The  central  column 
was  connected  with  the  right  and  left  columns  respec- 
tively by  a  network  of  scouts,  who  passed  continuously 
between  them. 

As  the  scouts  in  front  and  rear  and  on  the  flanks 
were  regularly  relieved,  there  was  no  chance  whatever 
for  a  strange  horseman  to  accompany  us  without  being 
observed.  It  would  go  hard,  I  am  afraid,  with  any 
Japanese  scout  who  attempted  to  get  a  view  of  us,  even 
a  long-distance  view,  for  without  doubt  he  would  have 
been    immediately   "  spotted."     Once,    in    the   rolling 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  171 

dust,  Colonel  Bunting  became  doubtful  about  the 
character  of  a  solitary  horseman  who  was  riding  on 
our  left,  and  at  a  word  from  him  a  Caucasian  sped 
off  like  an  arrow  to  investigate.  So  well  did  we  sweep 
the  country  with  our  scouts  that  game  and  domestic 
animals  fled  before  us  for  miles.  A  hare  ran  in  front 
of  us  all  the  wway  to  Yinkow,  and  though  again  and 
again  the  Cossacks  tried  to  overtake  and  kill  it  with 
their  "  nagaike,"  it  invariably  escaped  them. 

This  the  Russians  seemed  to  regard  as  a  serious 
matter,  but  they  laughed  very  much  at  the  way  in 
which  all  along  our  line  of  march  young  horses,  mules 
and  donkeys  broke  away  from  their  Celestial  pro- 
prietors and  enlisted  under  our  banners.  These 
innocent  beasts  had  never  before  seen  such  a  collec- 
tion of  their  species,  and  were  probably  under  the  im- 
pression that  it  was  a  great  equine  rebellion  against 
mankind.  If  so,  they  were  quickly  disillusioned,  for 
we  soon  caught  and  saddled  them. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  country  was  not  the 
very  best  for  horsemen,  the  land  being  all  cultivated 
with  the  usual  terrible  thoroughness  of  the  Chinese 
agriculturist,  and  traversed  by  interminable  little 
ridges,  which  are  bad  enough  for  horses  in  any  case, 
but  which  were  rendered  worse  on  this  occasion  by  the 
countless  millions  of  sharp  kiaoliang  stalks  with  which 
they  were  covered. 

On  the  first  night  after  crossing  the  Hun  river  we 
halted  at  Sifontai,  and  next  day  we  faced  south,  and 
continued  marching  south  until  we  reached  Yinkow. 

On  the  very  day  on  which  we  reached  Sifontai  our 
scouts  reported  a  conflagration  in  a  village  towards 
the  south-east,  but  I  should  have  concluded  that  it  had 


172  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

no  significance  and  was  probably  an  accidental  fire  had 
it  not  been  for  what  happened  next  evening. 

On  the  second  day  we  reached  a  village  called 
Yowdyeze,  near  the  confluence  of  the  Hun  and  the 
Liao  rivers,  and  it  was  here  that  we  came  for  the  first 
time  into  contact  with  the  Japanese.  Towards  evening 
our  foremost  scouts  overtook  a  small  party  of  the 
enemy,  who  were  conveying  a  transport  train  consist- 
ing of  twenty  Chinese  carts  filled  with  hay  and 
kiaoliang. 

The  main  body  of  our  column — that  is,  the  right 
column — had  no  sooner  reached  these  carts  than  we 
noticed  an  enormous  cloud  of  black  smoke  rise  from 
an  adjoining  village  and  hang  suspended  in  the  still 
air,  a  portentous  omen  to  us  and  a  warning  to  all  the 
Japanese  for  scores  of  miles  around.  I  had  been 
previously  disposed  to  scoff  when  I  heard  the  Russians 
declare  that  every  flash  of  light  or  column  of  smoke 
which  they  saw  in  the  distance  was  a  "signal;"  but 
there  could  be  no  doubt  about  the  nature  of  this  con- 
flagration, for  an  officer  of  the  Tersko-Kubansky 
regiment  who  entered  the  village  found  that  the 
burning  house  was  surrounded  by  empty  tins  of 
kerosene,  the  contents  of  which  had  evidently  been 
poured  over  the  building. 

It  was  on  this  day  that  I  saw  the  last  of  my  friend 
Burtin,  the  French  officer,  who  was  killed  the  next 
day.  He  had  ridden  over  from  the  central  column  to 
my  column,  that  is,  the  left  column,  along  with  a 
young  sotnik  of  the  name  of  Turbin,  who  was  accom- 
panied by  about  a  dozen  Verkhnyudinsky  Cossacks, 
and  I  can  still  see  him  bent  forward,  Arab-like,  on  his 
Cossack  saddle,  the  refined,  eager  face  of  the  enthusiast 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  173 

scanning  the  horizon,  and  oblivious  to  everything  in 
the  near  vicinity. 

When  night  came  on  we  could  see  fire  after  fire 
being  kindled  in  the  east,  one  further  away  than  the 
other,  the  remotest  probably  burning  within  easy 
distance  of  Yentai.  They  were  certainly  signals,  and 
as  from  a  hillock  I  watched  the  u  ghastly  war-flame  " 
speed  eastwards,  I  could  not  help  recalling  Clytem- 
nestra's  description  of  the  watch-fires  which  brought 
to  Argos  the  news  of  the  fall  of  Troy,  and  at  the  same 
time  thinking  how  much  inferior  after  all  is  the  vivid 
imagery  of  the  most  warlike  poetry  to  the  bald  truth 
of  the  "  real  thing." 

On  the  morning  of  December  28  (O.S.)  we  got 
ready  before  dawn — although,  of  course,  there  was 
not  much  to  get  ready,  for  we  travelled  as  lightly  as 
possible,  and  our  horses  were  always  kept  saddled — 
and  assembled  to  hear  the  order  of  the  day  in  a  vast 
sandy  valley,  one  of  those  bits  of  the  great  Gobi 
desert  that  break  out  here  and  there  like  a  rash  on  the 
smooth  face  of  the  interminable  ploughed  land. 

The  scene  was  peculiarly  striking.  The  sandy 
waste  and  the  dunes,  red  with  the  kindling  fires  of  the 
east,  on  which  the  figures  of  horsemen  stood  motion- 
less as  Arabs  at  prayer,  and  sharply  outlined  against 
the  glowing  sky,  reminded  me  of  pictures  I  had  seen 
of  Morocco  and  the  Sahara.  The  crimson  light  of 
dawn  streamed  over  the  bare  hillsides,  and  if  one 
ascended  a  cliff  and  looked  down  on  the  troops 
gathered  in  the  glen  below,  he  could  not  but  be  struck 
by  the  rich  oriental  colouring  of  the  scene.  Only 
Salvator  Rosa  could  do  justice  to  such  a  sight. 

When  I  gazed  on  this  interesting  spectacle  from  a 


174  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

hillside  and  with  the  rising  sun  at  my  back,  the  extra- 
ordinary mixture  of  colours  came  out  very  effectively  ; 
but  when  I  descended  the  hill  and  looked  at  the 
Cossacks  with  my  face  turned  towards  the  sun  there 
was  no  colour,  only  one  uniform  dark  grey,  and  no 
details  of  the  figures  before  me,  only  silhouettes. 

It  was  clear  to  us  all  this  day  that  something  big 
was  afoot.  The  signals  of  the  night  before  had 
probably  prepared  the  men  for  something,  and  you 
could  not  fail  to  notice  that  they  were  prepared  by  the 
vigilant  glances  they  threw  around  them  and  the  care 
with  which  they  scouted.  I  happened  to  be  riding  on 
this  occasion  with  the  advance  guard,  not  because  I 
wanted  to  see  the  first  shot  fired,  but  because  I  had 
mistakenly  supposed  when  it  started  that  it  was  the 
main  body. 

As  our  strong  fresh  horses  bounded  beneath  us 
over  the  illimitable  plain  I  began  for  the  first  time 
to  understand  the  delight  which  the  soldier  takes  in 
war.  I  had  not  been  able  to  understand  it  previously, 
having  been  mostly  occupied  during  battle  in  mourn- 
fully sitting  on  a  bare  hillside  watching  the  Japanese 
shells  creep  closer  and  closer,  and  scribbling  in  my 
notebook  instructions  regarding  the  disposal  of  my  horse 
and  camera.  That  sort  of  warfare  drives  fear  into  the 
marrow  of  one's  bones,  but  on  horseback,  his  lungs 
filled  with  ozone,  and  his  eyes  bright  with  health,  I 
think  that  even  the  coward  gets  an  infusion  of  courage 
sufficient  to  make  him  laugh  in  the  teeth  of  death,  or 
at  all  events  to  bear  himself  like  a  man  until  the  ordeal 
is  past. 

As  a  pastime  pursued  for  its  own  sake,  war — of  the 
kind  which  old  Mishchenko  gave  us  on  that  occasion — 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  175 

leaves  fox-hunting  far  behind.  In  both  cases  you  have 
the  hard  riding  and  the  open  air  and  the  glorious  sweep 
of  country  ;  but  in  war  you  have  the  piquant  spice  of 
danger,  and  even  if  you  are  a  non-combatant  the  in- 
toxicating sense  of  power,  without  which  a  ride  across 
country  will  ever  afterward  seem  to  you  like  salad 
without  vinegar,  like  an  egg  without  salt.  Little 
wonder,  then,  that  when,  on  the  day  after  the  fight  at 
Yinkow,  I  left  my  orderly,  my  Caucasian  friends  and 
Mishchenko  in  order  to  ride  into  a  part  of  the  country 
that  had  not  yet  been  visited  by  the  belligerents,  I  felt 
like  Brigadier  Gerard  after  Waterloo,  and  determined 
to  get  back  to  the  army  again  as  speedily  as  possible. 

Nearly  every  Cossack  engagement  opens  in  the  same 
way.  A  Cossack  scout  rushes  back  breathlessly  to  his 
leader,  and  somehow  or  other  there  is  never  any  mis- 
taking the  news  he  brings.  On  two  occasions,  at  all 
events,  when  I  marked  the  agitation  of  the  courier 
and  the  fleetness  with  which  he  rode,  and  noticed  our 
leader  bend  forward  in  his  saddle  in  an  attitude  of  keen 
expectation,  I  said  to  myself,  "Something  serious  has 
happened,"  and  on  both  occasions  I  was  right — a  man 
had  been  shot.  One  of  these  occasions  was  the  present, 
but  when  the  man  reached  Colonel  Bunting  and 
saluted,  he  gasped  and  remained  silent.  It  was  not 
that  he  was  wounded  or  breathless.  The  reason  of 
his  silence  was  that  he  was  a  Caucasian  and  unable  to 
speak  a  word  of  Russian.  A  few  moments  before,  the 
first  rifle  had  cracked,  and  Staff-Captain  Chaplin  had 
fallen  from  his  horse,  shot  through  the  heart. 

An  interpreter  having  been  found,  Colonel 
Bunting  succeeded  in  ascertaining  from  the  Cau- 
casian scout  that  there  was  a  band  of  Hunghuze  in 


176  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

the  vicinity  of  a  village  called  Lee-quee-shou.  H< 
therefore  gave  the  order  to  charge,  and  the  Tersko- 
Kubansky  and  the  Donsky  Cossacks  received  at  the 
same  time  a  similar  command.  The  Hunghuze  were 
on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Hun  river — we  were  not 
far  now  from  the  point  where  the  Hun  joins  the  Liao 
— and  had  apparently  fired  at  us  from  behind  one 
of  the  earthen  mounds  which  the  Chinese  have  con- 
structed for  scores  of  miles  along  the  banks  of  the  river 
in  order  to  protect  their  fields  from  inundations.  The 
Cossacks,  therefore,  crossed  the  ice  (see  photo.)  and 
swept  like  a  whirlwind  on  the  Hunghuze.  The 
memory  of  that  charge  will  remain  with  me  the  longest 
day  I  live. 

The  horses  rushed  across  the  plain  at  a  speed 
which  one  could  scarcely  have  believed  possible 
considering  the  nature  of  the  ground,  and,  amid  the 
clouds  of  dust  raised  by  their  horses'  hoofs,  the 
swords  of  the  Cossacks  flashed.  The  Hunghuze 
scattered  so  rapidly  that  I  could  form  no  idea  of  their 
number,  but  some  officers  put  it  at  five  hundred. 
Many  of  them  stood  their  ground  bravely,  firing  on 
the  Russians  until  their  heads  were  cloven  by  the 
Caucasians,  who  did  not,  I  must  say,  keep  them 
waiting  long.  They  did  not  fall  in  heaps,  however, 
as  you  see  in  battle  pictures,  but  were  very  widely 
scattered  over  an  immense  plain,  so  widely  that  I  only 
saw  two  corpses,  both  corpses  of  Chinamen,  dressed 
like  the  Hunghuze  we  had  killed  during  Plaoutine's 
raid,  and  with  nothing  remarkable  about  them. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  this  band  of  robbers 
was  in  the  service  of  the  Japanese,  otherwise  we 
should  not  have  found  them  down  there  in  the  rear 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  i77 

of  the  Japanese  army.  Besides,  we  captured  from 
them  a  Japanese  flag  bearing  a  Chinese  inscription 
meaning  "  the  right  camp  of  the  left  wing,"  a  "  camp  " 
in  the  Chinese  army  consisting  of  five  hundred  soldiers. 
They  were  all  hardy,  well-formed  men  in  the  prime  of 
life,  and  they  rode  good  Chinese  horses,  but  did  not 
carry  any  swords  or  lances.  Their  Japanese  instructors 
had  evidently  taken  great  pains  to  drill  them,  and  on 
this  occasion  they  were  a  credit  to  their  teachers. 

Somewhat  further  south  our  central  column  got 
into  a  far  stiffer  fight.  Near  the  confluence  of  the 
Hun  with  the  Liao  there  is  a  small  walled  village 
called  Shoutoze,  and  in  this  village  several  hundred 
Japanese  infantry-men  held  out  with  characteristic 
obstinacy  for  all  the  rest  of  the  afternoon,  thus  delay- 
ing us  by  half  a  day,  and  incidentally  saving  Yinkow. 

The  Verkhnyudinsky  Cossacks  were  ordered  to 
dismount  and  advance  against  them,  and  they  did 
so  with  great  courage,  their  officers  going  in  front. 
The  first  report  we  got  was  that  the  Cossacks 
were  driven  back  and  two  of  their  officers  wounded, 
one  of  these  wounded  officers  being  afterwards 
carried  inside  the  village  by  the  Japanese.  But 
next  morning  we  saw  the  leathern-coated  men  from 
Verkhnyudinsky  advancing  with  the  rest  of  us,  and 
heard  that  they  had  taken  the  village  on  the  previous 
evening,  all  the  Japanese  being  killed  or  dispersed. 
Unfortunately,  two  brave  young  officers  of  the  Verkh- 
nyudinsky Regiment  lost  their  lives  on  this  occasion, 
one  Nekrasoff,  a  "sotnik"  or  centurion  of  great  bravery, 
who  had  previously  been  wounded  twice  during  the 
present  war,  and  the  other  Ferdinand  Burtin,  the 
French   officer    of    whom    I    have    already    spoken. 


178  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Burtin  had  gone  forward  on  foot  to  attack  a  village 
with  the  "sotnia"  to  which  he  was  attached,  but  was 
shot  in  the  leg  and .  fell  to  the  ground,  when  he  had 
come  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  enemy.  If  he 
had  remained  quite  still  he  would  have  been  safe,  but 
he  raised  himself  to  a  sitting  posture  and  waved  his 
sword  as  a  sign  for  his  men  to  come  in,  whereupon  he 
immediately  got  one  bullet  through  the  head  and 
another  through  the  chest,  and  died  soon  afterwards, 
without  saying  anything.  The  official  paper  of  the 
army  afterwards  came  out  with  a  long  eulogistic 
account  of  him.  Lieutenant  Burtin  was  not  a  person- 
age, he  was  only  an  ordinary  French  officer,  but  he 
fully  maintained  the  French  officer's  high  reputation 
for  bravery,  skill  and  courtesy,  and  deeply  the 
Cossacks  of  the  Transbaikal  "  voisko"  mourn  the  loss  of 
the  gallant  foreigner  who  could  not  tell  them  how  he 
sympathised  with  them,  but  whose  actions  spoke 
louder  than  words.  He  was  buried  before  dawn  next 
morning,  January  it,  General  Mishchenko  and  all  his 
staff  being  present,  and  the  same  day  we  crossed  the 
Taitze  and  advanced  on  old  Newchwang.  Not  all  of 
us  went  that  way,  however.  The  Primorsky  Dragoons 
cantered  off  toward  Ta-shih-chiao  in  order  to  blow 
up  some  of  the  railway,  and  thus  prevent  the  Japanese 
from  bringing  troops  into  Yinkow  by  rail.  To  hear 
these  officers  talking  lightly  of  riding  over  to  Hai- 
cheng  and  Yinkow  made  us  almost  inclined  to  imagine 
that  we  were  back  in  January  1904,  and  that  the  fall 
of  Port  Arthur  and  the  defeats  at  Vafangow,  at  Liao- 
yang  and  on  the  Shaho  were  merely  dreams.  I,  for 
one,  was  inclined  to  rub  my  eyes  when  I  saw  again 
in  the  distance  the  familiar  hills  of  Ta-shih-chiao. 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  179 

On  the  previous  day  a  mixed  detachment,  composed 
of  half  a  "sotnia"  of  the  Chitinsky  Cossacks,  half  a 
"  sotnia  "  of  the  Verkhnyudinsky  Cossacks,  and  half  a 
"sotnia"  of  the  Uralsky  Cossacks,  had  been  des- 
patched eastwards  with  a  good  supply  of  nitro- 
glycerine in  order  to  cut  the  railway  north  of 
Haicheng.  They  accomplished  this  task  with  the 
greatest  ease  and  expedition,  but  in  such  a  way  that 
the  line  could  be  repaired  again  in  a  few  hours.  When 
they  reached  the  railway  there  were  only  a  few  of  the 
enemy  there,  and  these  retired  without  firing  a  shot, 
whereupon  the  Cossacks  proceeded  to  look  for  a 
bridge  underneath  which  they  might  plant  their 
explosives.  Unfortunately  they  could  not  find  any 
bridge,  so  they  had  to  content  themselves  with  blowing 
up  part  of  the  line — damage  which  the  Japanese  pro- 
bably made  good  in  a  very  short  time. 

A  detachment  of  the  Tersko-Kubansky  regiment 
reported  that  it  had  destroyed  five  hundred  metres  of 
the  railway  at  another  point,  and  at  four  o'clock  next 
morning  an  explosion  from  the  direction  of  Tah-shih- 
chiao  led  us  to  conclude  that  a  bridge  on  the  Tah- 
shih-chiao-Yinkow  line  had  been  blown  up.  But  this 
could  not  have  been  the  case ;  for  just  before  our 
attack  on  Yinkow  two  trains  came  through,  probably 
from  the  south. 

At  old  Newchwang  we  had  another  tussle  with  the 
Japanese.  Fifty  of  them  occupied  a  house  there,  and 
as  we  could  not  afford  to  waste  time  taking  it,  we  con- 
tented ourselves  with  making  prisoners  of  two  or  three 
wounded  officers — who,  by  the  way,  spoke  Russian 
tolerably  well — and  then  we  pushed  further  south. 

At  old  Newchwang  there  was   the  usual  litter  of 


180  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Japanese  telegraph  and  telephone  poles  and  wires,  and 
more  than  the  usual  capture  of  transports.  In  fact, 
too  much  time  was  spent,  I  think,  in  burning  these 
transports,  which  included  clothing,  kerosene,  pro- 
visions and  ammunition.  Hundreds  of  cattle  and 
sheep  were  also  taken  and  driven  before  us.  Every 
Cossack  had  a  small  bag  of  flour  at  his  saddle-bow, 
and  the  Japanese  must  have  found  the  tracking  of 
him  closely  to  resemble  a  paper  chase,  for  his  route 
was  marked  by  empty  boxes  of  "  Peacock  "  and  other 
brands  of  cigarettes  which  the  Japanese  soldier  loves, 
and  which  the  Cossack  had  now  got  hold  of. 

On  the  night  of  the  i  ith  there  were  no  less  than  two 
huge  conflagrations  reddening  the  horizon.  They  were 
Japanese  transports  on  lire.  We  spent  that  night  in 
the  village  of  Hundyatun,  twenty  miles  from  Yinkow, 
and  in  the  morning  we  set  out  with  the  determination 
of  reaching  our  destination  before  sunset.  We  passed 
on  our  way  still  another  flaming  transport.  On  this 
last  day  the  extraordinarily  mild  weather  that  had 
favoured  us  thus  far,  still  continued,  but  unfortunately 
the  warm  sunshine  thawed  the  surface  of  the  cultivated 
earth,  so  that  whenever  there  was  a  breeze  blowing 
from  any  point  of  the  compass  we  rode  amid  dense 
clouds  of  dust.  Of  the  Cossacks  a  few  yards  in  front 
of  me  I  could  only  see  a  faint  grey  outline,  like 
figures  of  men  on  an  over-exposed  photographic  plate, 
and  I  could  hardly  recognise  the  officers  who  rode 
beside  me,  so  powdered  were  their  beards  and  faces 
with  the  grey  dust. 

The  country  became  richer  as  we  approached  nearer 
to  Yinkow,  the  villages  far  more  prosperous,  and  the 
land  even  better  cultivated.     I  was  under  the  impres- 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  181 

sion  that  we  were  still  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
our  destination  when,  at  about  4  p.m.,  boom  !  went  a 
gun  on  the  right,  and  a  little  cloud  of  shrapnel  burst 
over  a  village,  which  was  situated,  as  I  afterwards  dis- 
covered, a  short  distance  in  front  of  the  Niuchatun 
Railway  station.  Boom  !  boom  !  boom  !  went  other 
guns,  and  then  came  the  rattle  of  a  heavy  musketry 
fire,  and  we  knew  that  the  fight  had  begun. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  this  day  a  Chinaman  whom 
we  met  at  Hundyatun  had  told  us  that  there  were  only 
three  hundred  Japanese  soldiers  at  the  Yinkow  rail- 
way station,  and  that  there  were  no  soldiers  at  all  in 
the  town.  Our  officers  had  been  of  the  opinion  that 
a  party  of  Cossacks  would  be  sent  to  smash  up  the 
Japanese  administration  buildings  while  the  rest  of  us 
were  burning  the  stores  at  the  station,  but,  just  before 
the  fight  began,  General  Mishchenko  communicated  to 
his  officers  his  plan  of  action,  which  was  as  follows : 

The  Japanese,  who  were  found  to  be  strongly  in- 
trenched in  front  of  the  station,  would  be  shelled  and 
then  attacked  by  a  mixed  force  composed  of  detach- 
ments from  the  Tersko-Kubansky  and  other  regiments, 
amounting  in  all  to  about  one  thousand  men.  If  this 
attack  were  successful  the  Japanese  stores  would  be 
set  on  fire,  and  then  the  Russians  would  fall  back  as 
fast  as  they  could.  Fearing  that  indiscriminate  looting 
and  subsequent  complications  with  foreign  Powers 
would  take  place  if  the  Cossacks  entered  the  town,  the 
general  forbade  them  to  enter  in  any  case. 

Just  as  we  approached  Yinkow  a  train  filled  with 
soldiers  rushed  in  from  Ta-shih-chiao.  It  was  made 
up  of  sixteen  trucks,  and,  calculating  that  each  truck 
could  accommodate  forty  men,  it  must  have  brought 


1 82  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

the  strength  of  the  garrison  up  to  about  a  thousand ; 
that  is,  it  made  them  equal  in  strength  to  the  attack- 
ing party,  which  had,  therefore,  of  course,  no  chance, 
especially  as  the  Cossacks  were  without  bayonets  and 
had  no  skill  whatever  in  attacking  intrenched  infantry. 
It  is  a  truism  to  say  that  cavalry  can  do  nothing 
against  an  equal  force  of  infantry  calmly  lying  behind 
earthworks,  with  their  eyes  on  the  sights  of  their  rifles. 
Our  Cossacks  dismounted,  of  course,  and  advanced  to 
the  attack  sword  in  hand,  but  they  suffered  seriously 
from  the  Japanese  fire,  and  could  make  no  progress. 
The  courage  of  the  Cossacks  seems  to  be  outside 
of  themselves  (to  apply  to  them  what  Tacitus  said  of 
the  Sarmates),  for  once  dismounted  they  are  lost. 

Among  those  killed  in  our  brigade  was  Captain 
Koulibakine,  a  wealthy  and  fashionable  officer  of  the 
Horse  Guards,  who  had  volunteered  for  the  war. 

Meanwhile  the  bulk  of  Mishchenko's  force  was  held 
in  reserve.  I  was  with  the  Caucasian  brigade  on  the 
left  flank,  that  is,  on  the  railway,  where  for  some 
reason  or  other  it  was  suspected  that  an  attempt  would 
be  made  to  flank  us.  These  suspicions  were  increased 
by  the  fact  that  a  few  shots  were  fired  on  this  part  of 
our  line,  but  these  shots  were  probably  fired  by  isolated 
Japanese  volunteers,  or  perhaps  by  our  own  scouts, 
who  mistook  one  another  for  the  enemy.  Luckily, 
however,  no  harm  was  done,  only  two  horses  wounded, 
I  think.  But  the  fear  of  an  enemy  who  was  not  there 
kept  us  close  to  the  railway  line  until  five  o'clock, 
when  the  fight  ceased. 

About  half-past  four,  a  Chinese  building  in  front  of 
the  station  and  another  on  the  railway  line  burst 
simultaneously  into  flames,  and  many  of  us  thought 


MISHCHENKO'S  RAID  183 

that  the  former  building  was  the  station  itself,  or,  at 
least,  some  of  the  buildings  in  which  the  Japanese 
stores  were  kept.  But  the  murderous  fire  of  the 
enemy  still  continued,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that  we 
were  making  no  progress.  Just  then  an  imperative 
order  from  General  Mishchenko  reached  us.  It  was 
to  the  effect  that  we  must  at  once  retreat  as  quickly 
as  we  could  to  a  village  seventeen  versts  north  of 
Yinkow,  and  we  lost  no  time  in  doing  so.  There  was 
not  the  slightest  panic  or  disorder  in  our  retreat,  and 
I  do  not  think  that  there  was  the  slightest  panic  or 
disorder  in  any  of  the  other  detachments.  The 
general  had  evidently  given  himself  an  hour  to  do  the 
work  he  had  got  to  do  at  Yinkow,  and  had  decided 
beforehand  to  leave,  directly  that  hour  was  up. 

It  was  too  dangerous  to  remain,  especially  with 
such  a  composite  force.  If  a  night  attack  had  been 
carried  out,  these  different  races  in  our  brigade  might 
very  probably  have  come  into  collision,  each  under 
the  impression  that  the  other  party  was  the  enemy. 
With  the  stores  at  Yinkow  station  left  uncaptured, 
the  success  of  the  raid  was,  however,  incomplete.  It 
was  a  pity  we  did  not  destroy  these  stores.  A  little 
more  would  have  done  it. 

I  have  just  said  that  we  got  orders  to  fall  back  on 
a  village  seventeen  miles  north  of  Mukden.  We  did 
so  in  good  order,  and  reached  our  destination  in  two 
hours.  It  was  a  smart  piece  of  work  all  round,  for  all 
the  other  regiments  were  there  before  us,  all  except 
the  Verkhnyudinsky  and  the  others  that  were  guarding 
our  rear.  Unfortunately  the  village  in  question  was 
too  small  to  hold  us  all,  so  that  most  of  us — including 
the  present  writer — had  to  sleep  out  in  the  open,  by 


1 84  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

no  means  a  pleasant  experience  in  Manchuria  at  that 
time  of  the  year. 

We  heard  next  morning  that  20,000  Japanese  had 
assembled  at  Haicheng  and  were  going  to  cut  us  off 
by  establishing  a  network  of  infantry  posts  from  that 
city  right  across  to  the  Liao  River  ;  but  neither  this 
information  nor  the  more  startling  news  that  a  Japanese 
infantry  force  was  advancing  towards  us  from  the  east 
of  Yinkow  caused  us  to  hurry  in  the  least. 

By  eleven  in  the  morning  we  still  occupied  that 
village,  or,  rather,  the  surrounding  country,  for  the 
village  was  just  large  enough  to  contain  General 
Mishchenko's  staff  and  no  more,  and  were  looking 
after  our  wounded  and  making  preparations  for  our 
journey  north.  Before  noon,  however,  the  Caucasians 
advanced  to  the  south-east,  covering  the  artillery, 
which  had  been  ordered  to  shell  the  approaching 
infantry.  The  infantry  did  not  approach,  however, 
so  that  in  the  afternoon  Mishchenko  marched  due  north 
with  great  rapidity,  as  if  he  intended  to  retreat  the 
way  he  came.  The  Japanese  probably  expected  that, 
and  had  made  every  preparation  to  give  him  a  warm 
reception  as  he  crossed  the  Taitsze  and  Hun  Rivers. 
But  just  when  it  seemed  certain  that  he  was  heading 
direct  for  the  trap  that  had  been  prepared  for  him,  the 
wily  old  Cossack  swung  suddenly  to  the  left,  and  was 
on  the  west  bank  of  the  Liao  before  the  Japanese 
could  properly  realise  what  had  happened.  Next 
morning  the  enemy  had  also  crossed  to  the  other  side 
of  the  Liao,  but  Mishchenko  made  it  hot  for  them 
from  eight  o'clock  to  nine  with  his  artillery.  Then  he 
moved  on  until  he  reached  the  main  Russian  army. 


HAPTER  V 


HOW  I  LEFT  MISHCHENKO 


When  Mishchenko  made  his  attack  on  Yinkow  I 
determined  that  if  it  was  successful  I  would  cross  the 
river  and,  from  the  neutral  territory  on  the  other  side, 
send  off  a  telegram  to  my  paper  describing  our  success. 
I  was  told  that  there  was  a  censor  at  the  telegraph 
office  on  the  right  bank,  so  I  offered  to  take  him  back 
alive  if  they  sent  a  Cossack  with  me,  explaining  that 
the  gratification  I  would  thus  confer  on  the  corre- 
spondents with  the  Japanese  would  be  almost  beyond 
human  conception.  The  detachment  with  which  I 
was  connected  made  its  attack  on  the  Japanese  left 
wing,  however,  so  that  I  was  a  long  way  from  the 
river,  on  whose  frozen  surface  I  could  nevertheless  see 
reflected  the  light  from  the  blazing  house  near  the 
railway  station. 

Seldom  in  my  life  did  I  experience  keener  vexation 
than  when  the  Cossacks  galloped  north  without  having 
done  anything,  and  I  went  with  them. 

"  Here,"  I  said  to  myself,  "is  a  magnificent  oppor- 
tunity lost !  I  could  have  struck  west  towards  that 
burning  building  and  crossed  the  river  in  its  glare. 
But  now,  alas !  it  is  too  late." 

So  angry  with  myself  did  I  feel  that  I  kept  a 
continual  look-out  on  our  left  for  the  Liao-ho,   and 


186  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

if  we  had  come  within  sight  of  it  again,  I  should 
certainly  have  crossed  it,  although  I  now  realise  that 
under  the  circumstances  it  would  have  been  an  ex- 
cessively dangerous  and  foolish  thing  to  do.  Not 
to  mention  the  risk  I  should  run  from  Chinese, 
Japanese,  and  Russians,  I  should  almost  certainly  be 
drowned  if  I  attempted  to  cross  the  river  on  horseback 
at  this  point ;  for,  near  Yinkow,  it  had  not  been  quite 
frozen  over  that  year,  and  even  where  I  did  cross  it 
much  higher  up,  next  day,  I  had  to  take  the  advice  of 
a  local  resident  and  to  travel  under  his  direction  in  a 
very  zig-zag  manner,  otherwise  I  should  have  infallibly 
gone  through  the  ice  in  several  places. 

At  last  I  caught  the  glitter  of  the  moonlight  on  a 
great  sheet  of  ice,  and  without  further  ado  I  informed 
Colonel  Bunting  that  I  was  going  to  cross  the 
river. 

"  But  that's  not  the  river,"  said  he,  "  that's  a  lake 
You're  a  long  way  from  the  river  now." 

These  words  convinced  me  that  it  was  hopeless  to 
try  to  get  away  that  night,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
get  off  next  morning  ;  and,  when  next  morning  came, 
I  took  advantage  of  our  delay  in  setting  out  to  tell 
Colonel  Bunting  that  I  was  determined  to  leave  him, 
to  cross  the  Liao-ho,  and  to  send  off  my  telegram 
from  the  town  of  Tenshwantai  above  Newchwang,  but 
on  the  Chinese  side  of  the  river. 

He  told  me  that  Mishchenko  would  cross  the 
Liao-ho  himself  a  little  further  north,  and  that  I  might 
as  well  accompany  him  for  some  distance  ;  but,  having 
studied  the  map,  I  thought  it  would  be  better  for  me 
to  strike  due  west  at  once.  Besides,  the  further  north 
I  went  the  greater  danger  I  ran  from  the  Hunghuze, 


HOW  I  LEFT  MISHCHENKO  187 

whom   I    feared  very  much  more  than  I  feared  the 
Japanese. 

Accordingly  I  induced  Colonel  Bunting  to  write 
me  a  statement  to  the  effect  that  I  had  left  the  regi- 
ment with  his  permission  in  order  to  cross  the  Liao 
river,  send  off  a  telegram  from  neutral  territory,  and 
afterwards  return  to  the  Russian  army  by  way  of 
Tsinmintun.  This  document  proved  useful  later  on, 
when  I  did  return  to  the  Russians  and  found  them 
labouring  under  the  delusion  that  I  was  a  traitor. 

I  next  engaged  the  Manchurian  who  had  guided  us 
to  Yinkow  to  guide  me  across  the  Liao-ho.  He  was 
a  young  dare-devil  of  nineteen  or  twenty,  probably  a 
bandit,  and  if  the  Japanese  had  caught  him  I  am 
afraid  that  he  would  have  had  a  short  shrift,  for  in 
his  purse  were  the  rouble  notes  which  he  had  received 
from  his  Russian  employers.  I  might  also  mention  the 
fact  that  I  carried  some  telegramswhich  the  commander 
of  our  brigade  had  casually  asked  me  to  send  for  him  ; 
and  though  they  were  apparently  private  messages,  the 
Japanese  might  have  made  short  work  of  me  too  if 
they  had  found  them  on  me.  Worst  of  all,  however, 
I  carried  on  my  person  rouble  notes  to  the  value  of 
about  one  thousand  pounds  sterling.  At  this  time  it 
was  necessary  for  a  correspondent  on  the  Russian  side 
to  carry  these  large  sums  of  money  with  him,  as  he 
never  knew  when  he  might  have  to  send  off  a  telegram 
which  would  require  every  kopeck  he  had  got,  for 
the  Russian  telegraph  officials  would  not  adopt  the 
"  receiver-to-pay"  system  that  obtains  elsewhere.  And 
if  a  Japanese  or  Russian  scout  had  caught  me,  searched 
me,  and  found  all  this  money  on  me,  I  am  extremely 
afraid  that  he  would  not  have  spared  my  life. 


1 88  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

At  first  our  young  Manchurian  guide  was  very  re- 
luctant to  go  with  me,  but  when  our  regular  regi- 
mental Chinese  interpreter  had  told  him  that  I  was 
Yingwa  (English),  and  therefore  a  great  favourite  with 
the  Japanese,  his  hesitation  was  at  once  overcome. 

In  order  to  get  past  the  lake  which  lay  to  our  west, 
I  had  to  ride  some  distance  to  the  south — that  is,  in 
the  direction  in  which  a  body  of  Japanese  infantry  was 
said  to  be  advancing  to  attack  us ;  and  I  felt  exces- 
sively uneasy,  therefore,  until  I  was  able  to  ride  due 
west. 

As  soon  as  I  got  clear  of  the  Russian  scouts  I  took 
off  the  Cossack  jacket  which  I  wore  ;  but  my  Astrakan 
cap,  my  high  boots,  and  a  number  of  other  things 
gave  everybody  I  met  the  impression  that  I  was  a 
Russian  soldier.  Besides,  it  is  nothing  less  than 
mysterious  how  closely  one  comes  to  resemble,  even 
in  face  and  manner,  a  foreign  people  among  whom  one 
has  lived  for  any  length  of  time. 

On  approaching  the  first  village  on  my  line  of  march 
my  heart  beat  rapidly,  for  the  heads  of  all  the  inhabi- 
tants thereof  were  visible  above  the  earthen  wall  which 
surrounded  the  hamlet,  and  it  was  as  likely  as  not  that 
somebody  would  have  a  pot-shot  at  me.  I  passed 
through  in  safety,  however,  and,  in  four  or  five  hours, 
was  near  the  Liao-ho. 

These  four  or  five  hours  were  not,  however,  among 
the  most  agreeable  which  I  have  spent  in  my  lifetime, 
for  the  eyes  were  ready  to  start  out  of  my  head  with 
the  strain  of  keeping  a  look-out  for  Japanese.  At  one 
place  I  saw  ten  or  twelve  horsemen  on  the  verge  of 
the  horizon,  but  my  guide  told  me  that  they  were 
Chinese  peasants  :  and,  anyhow,  we  did  not  encounter 


HOW  I  LEFT  MISHCHENKO  189 

them.  As  a  rule  I  made  out  distant  objects  myself, 
and  I  was  surprised  and  gratified  at  the  accuracy  I 
had  acquired  ;  for  I  remembered  that  at  the  battle  of 
Ta-shih-chiao  I  had  been  practically  unable  to  see 
anything  of  the  enemy,  while  the  officers  around  me 
were  able  to  see  them  easily. 

Having  at  length  come  near  to  the  Liao-ho,  I  was 
horrified  to  discover  casually  from  my  guide  that  there 
was  a  Japanese  guard  in  Tenshwantai,  and  I  made  no 
secret  of  my  alarm. 

"  But  I  thought  you  were  a  friend  of  the  Japanese  ?  " 
gasped  my  young  Hunghuze. 

I  tried  to  explain  that  I  was  not  fighting  against 
them,    and  had    nothing   to    fear    from  them    except 
delay,  which,  considering  the  business  I  was  on,  would 
have  been  fatal ;   but  all  this  failed  to  reassure  the 
youth,  who  now  came  evidently  to  the  conclusion  that 
I  was,  like  himself,  a  dangerous  outlaw.     I  sometimes 
heard  him  discussing  me  in  the  villages  through  which 
we  passed.     He  always  referred  to  me  as  the  "p'ing" 
(soldier),  and  did  not,  I  think,  give  the  inhabitants  a 
very  reassuring  account  of  me.     He  took  to  lagging 
behind  in  a  very  sulky  manner,  and  I  began  to  wonder 
if  his  object  was  to  shoot  me  from  the  rear — for  he 
was  armed — and  then,  in  good  old  Celestial  fashion, 
to  carry  my  head  to  the  Japanese  as  a  peace  offering. 
I  induced  him,  however,   to  bring  me  to  a  crossing- 
place  some  four  or  five  miles  north  of  Tenshwantai ; 
and  when  I  finally  did — albeit  not  without  some  diffi- 
culty— effect  a  crossing  at  this  point,  under  the  guid- 
ance of  a  middle-aged   Celestial,  who  trembled  with 
fear  as  he  stared  at  my  strange  accoutrements,   I  felt 
as  elated  as  if  I  had  discovered  the  North  Pole. 


190  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

It  was  not  quite  a  safe  place,  however,  for  it  was 
about  here  that,  after  the  battle  of  Ta-shih-chiao,  the 
unfortunate  Russian  gunboat  Sivoutch  was  so  pestered 
by  Hunghuze,  who  fired  on  her  night  after  night  from 
the  bank,  that  the  position  of  the  crew  became  almost 
as  horrible  as  that  of  the  Master  of  Ballintrae  when 
he  was  tracked  in  the  woods  of  America  by  vengeful 
Indians. 

The  country  through  which  I  now  passed  was  as  flat 
as  a  billiard-table,  but  it  was  very  well  cultivated,  and,  I 
should  say,  very  prosperous,  for  the  war  had  never 
touched  it.  I  felt  it  odd  not  to  see  shrapnel  on  the 
remote  horizon,  and  to  realise  that  there  were  no  longer 
any  of  the  enemy's  horsemen  to  keep  a  look-out  for  on 
the  edge  of  the  distant  plain.  I  thought  it  odder  to 
see  fat  hens  and  chickens  walking  placidly  about  the 
village  streets,  as  if  there  wasn't  a  Cossack  within  a 
thousand  miles  of  them.  Again  and  again  I  found 
myself  directing  covetous  glances  towards  fine  old 
Chinese  houses,  such  as  General  Mishchenko  would 
undoubtedly  have  made  his  headquarters  if  he  had 
come  that  way.  My  horse  seemed  to  be  in  an  equally 
demoralised  condition,  for  I  sometimes  had  difficulty  in 
getting  him  past  some  of  the  well-stocked  farmyards. 

Towards  evening  my  Chinese  guide  said  that  his 
horse  was  lame,  and  wanted  me  to  stop  for  the  night 
in  some  of  the  native  inns  which  we  passed  ;  but  I 
did  not  believe  him,  and,  besides,  I  was  determined  in 
any  case  to  get  my  wire  off  that  day.  Furthermore,  it 
would  be  safer  to  stop  at  a  railway-station,  where  I 
might  probably  meet  with  a  foreigner,  or  where,  at 
any  rate,  I  had  a  chance  of  getting  off  by  train  to  a 
safe  place,  than  in  a  no-man's  land  where  the  Japanese 


HOW  I  LEFT  MISHCHENKO  191 

might  still  catch  me  themselves,  or  induce  the  Chinese 
authorities  to  detain  me,  as  I  had  no  passport  and 
therefore  no  right  to  travel  in  the  district.  I  had 
also  to  consider  the  safety  of  my  guide,  who  seemed 
wholly  unconscious,  however,  of  the  danger  in  which 
he  stood. 

Accordingly  I  pushed  on  at  my  topmost  speed, 
inquiring  at  every  village  how  far  we  were  from  the 
railway.  Luckily  I  understood  enough  Chinese  to  ask 
this  question  and  to  understand  the  answers  to  it ; 
otherwise  my  guide  might  have  succeeded  in  persuad- 
ing me,  as  he  tried  hard  to  persuade  me,  that  the 
distance  was  twice  as  great  as  was  actually  the  case. 
I  noticed,  by  the  way,  that  he  unblushingly  mis- 
translated the  answers  of  the  villagers  on  this  point. 
The  distance  was  great  enough,  however.  That 
railway  seemed  to  fly  before  me  like  the  horizon. 
Village  after  village  I  passed,  and  I  seemed  to  be 
making  very  little  progress.  At  last,  long  after  the 
sun  had  sunk  below  the  horizon,  but  while  there  was 
still  some  light  in  the  sky,  I  descried  at  an  immense 
distance  a  little  square  house  standing  out  against  the 
last  faint  flicker  of  red  on  the  western  clouds.  From 
its  foreign  shape  I  knew  at  once  that  it  was  the 
railway-station  that  I  was  looking  for,  the  station  of 
Dava.  As  I  came  nearer  I  saw  an  embankment, 
then  a  railway  bridge,  then  ten  of  the  Viceroy  Yuan 
Shikai's  Chinese  soldiers — the  usual  railway  guard — 
strolling  about  on  the  line.  On  observing  me  they 
rapidly  retreated  towards  the  station,  and  I  feared  I 
was  going  to  get  one  of  their  dum-dum  bullets  in  my 
body  just  as  I  was  on  the  brink  of  safety. 

I  got  safely  into  the  station,  however,  had  my  horse 


19*  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

attended  to,  sent  off  my  telegram,  and  slept  that  night 
in  a  crowded  Chinese  "  hotel  "  of  the  dirtiest  descrip- 
tion. 

A  few  days  after,  I  went  to  Tientsin  by  train.  The 
conductor  of  the  train,  a  young  Englishman,  an  ex- 
Tommy,  who  had  been  in  South  Africa,  and  who  had 
naturally  a  keen  relish  for  adventure,  took  an  extra- 
ordinary but  embarrassing  interest  in  me,  owing,  I 
suppose,  to  my  Russian  attire  and  to  the  romantic 
circumstances  under  which  I  had  made  my  appear- 
ance, and  insisted  on  hiding  me  in  the  kitchen  of  the 
dining  car. 

M  Impossible,"  he  said,  "  to  go  into  the  car.  There 
are  two  Japs  there !  One  is  the  chief  of  police  at 
Shan-hai-kwan.  If  you  show  yourself,  they'll  try  to 
take  you  off  the  train  at  Kupanze.  They've  often 
done  it  with  Chinese.  Why,  they  dragged  a  China- 
man out  of  this  train  only  a  few  weeks  back,  and  shot 
him  behind  my  house  in  Kupanze.  He  was  probably 
a  Russian  emissary  of  some  sort,  or  had  betrayed 
them  or  something.  No,  the  Japanese  were  not  in 
uniform,  of  course.  In  fact,  they  were  disguised  as 
Chinamen,  but  we  all  know  that  they  are  Japanese. 
This  is  their  great  centre  for  the  organisation  of  the 
Hunghuze,  you  know.  Yes,  they've  often  dragged 
people  out  of  this  train.  But  let  them  try  it  this  time  ! 
/'ll  fix  them.  Now,  keep  quiet.  Your  revolver's 
loaded  ?  Good  !  Have  another  whiskey  and  soda  ! 
I'll  be  back  in  a  minute  to  report." 

A  few  moments  after  he  had  left,  however,  and 
while  I  was  sitting  on  my  saddle  and  rugs  trying  to 
control  my  laughter,  the  little  slide  through  which  the 
dishes  are  passed  from  the  kitchen  into  the  dining-car 


HOW  I  LEFT  MISHCHENKO  193 

was  suddenly  opened,  and  the  aperture  filled  with  a 
stern,  beardless,  yellow  face,  with  ugly,  determined 
mouth  and  slanting  eyes,  which  pierced  me  unrelent- 
ingly like  gimlets  for  fully  a  minute.  It  was  the  face 
of  a  Japanese  ;  and,  though  I  was  conscious  of  no 
crime,  I  felt  as  uneasy  under  its  stare  as  if  it  had  been 
the  face  of  a  judge  drawing  on  the  black  cap  to  con- 
demn me  to  death. 

A  few  stations  further  on,  I  found  a  Japanese  horse- 
man— undoubtedly  a  soldier,  although  he  wore  civilian 
dress — staring  at  me  with  equal  intentness  through 
the  carriage  window ;  but,  luckily,  I  passed  Kupanze 
without  being  interfered  with. 

Immediately  after  we  left  Kupanze,  the  slide  which 
I  have  already  spoken  of  was  again  drawn  aside,  and 
the  aperture  filled  with  a  face  very  different  to  the  last 
one.  It  was  a  fat,  rubicund,  Semitic  visage,  and  at  the 
same  time  a  cheerful  voice  began  speaking  to  me  in 
bad  Russian,  offering  vague,  incoherent  and  respectful 
promises  of  help.  The  owner  of  the  voice,  a  prosper- 
ous Greek  or  Jewish  sutler  who  had  just  come  down 
from  Mukden  and  Tsinmintun,  after  having  success- 
fully sold  a  large  consignment  of  liquor  to  the 
Russians,  was  divided  between  awe  of  me,  who  might 
turn  out  to  be  a  general,  and  intense  curiosity  to  know 
what  I  was  up  to. 

I  disappointed  him  keenly,  however,  by  telling  him 
coldly  that  I  was  an  Englishman,  and  not  a  Russian. 

"  Well,  I  only  heard  the  people  in  the  carriage  talk- 
ing about  you,"  he  mumbled  in  an  apologetic  tone, 
"  saying  that  you  had  been  with  that  party  which 
attacked  Newchwang  yesterday,  that  you  came  on  at 
a  wayside  station  where  by  right  this  train  should  not 


194  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

stop,  and  that  you  were  hiding  here.  I  don't  want  to 
know  anything  about  you,  but" — mysteriously — "I 
may  tell  you  that  I'm  working  for  the  Russians  myself. 
See  here  " — and  he  handed  me  a  Russian  paper  which 
I  at  once  saw  to  be  merely  a  sutler's  pass  allowing 
him  to  convey  goods  inside  the  Russian  lines  at 
Tsinmintun. 

He  then  went  on  to  speak  of  his  intimacy  with 
Colonel  Agorodinkoff,  the  Russian  military  agent  at 
Tientsin,  and  of  the  confidence  reposed  in  him  by 
Kuropatkin  himself,  until,  to  get  rid  of  him,  I  left  my 
hiding-place,  and,  to  the  unutterable  horror  of  my 
English  Tommy,  walked  right  into  the  dining-car.  Here 
I  found  several  Greek  sutlers,  also  on  their  way  from 
Mukden  for  more  liquor,  a  few  Japanese,  and  a  few 
Chinese,  who  were,  no  doubt,  disguised  Japanese 
officers. 

At  Shan-hai-kwan,  where  we  arrived  after  nightfall, 
my  English  friend  insisted  on  enveloping  me  in  a  great- 
coat, giving  me  a  bowler  hat  in  place  of  my  Russian 
cap,  and  bringing  me  with  the  utmost  secrecy  to  his 
own  lodgings,  which  I  quitted  next  morning  in  a  suit 
of  my  friend's  clothes,  and,  to  all  appearances,  quite  a 
different  man.  My  friend  had  even  insisted  on  giving 
me  the  name  of  Brown  ;  but,  of  course,  the  Japanese 
intelligence  officers  in  Shan-hai-kwan  recognised  me 
at  once.  One  of  them  was  within  earshot  when  I 
asked  for  my  ticket,  and  another  never  took  his  eyes 
off  me  all  the  way  to  Tientsin. 

I  might  here  mention  a  trifling  but  characteristic 
circumstance,  that  afterwards  occurred  to  me  at 
Kupanze  station,  on  my  way  back  to  the  Russians.  A 
Chinaman,  whom  I  did  not  know,  walked  up   to  me 


HOW  I  LEFT  MISHCHENKO  195 

and  handed  me  a  letter  addressed  to  me  by  my  real 
name — which,  by  the  way,  I  had  not  used  once  during 
this  trip.  Forgetting  for  the  moment  that  I  was 
Mr.  Brown,  I  accepted  the  letter  mechanically  ;  but 
its  contents  were  not  in  keeping  with  the  mysterious 
manner  in  which  it  had  been  delivered  to  me,  for  it  was 
simply  a  last  demand  from  the  tax-collecting  bureau  of 
Tokio  (in  which  city  I  had  lived  for  a  long  time)  for 
the  payment  of  income-tax.  Meanwhile  the  China- 
man had  disappeared,  but  how  he  had  got  to  know 
my  name  was  a  mystery. 

All  the  way  down  to  Tientsin  the  Greek  sutler  and 
his  friends  spoke  loudly  and  disrespectfully  about 
Japan,  drank  expensive  wines,  and  freely  displayed 
bundles  of  five-hundred  rouble  notes  which  they  had 
got  up  in  Mukden.  I  went  down  horribly  in  their 
estimation  by  suggesting  that  they  might  bring  cameras 
and  books  into  Mukden  next  trip.  "  What  we  makes 
money  on,  young  man,"  said  one  of  them,  turning  his 
back  on  me  contemptuously,  "  is — booze  !  " 

My  object  in  coming  to  Tientsin  was  to  purchase 
photographic  supplies,  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  books,  a 
fountain  pen,  and  a  number  of  other  things  which  could 
not  be  had  in  Mukden ;  but,  as  I  intended  to  return 
immediately  to  the  army,  and  as  I  wanted  to  keep  my- 
self above  all  suspicion  of  having  dealings  with  the 
enemy,  I  went  to  the  house  of  Colonel  Agorodinkoff, 
the  Russian  secret  service  agent  in  Tientsin,  and,  at 
his  request,  took  up  my  abode  with  him. 

A  few  days  in  Tientsin  showed  me  how  it  was  that 
the  Japanese  were  getting  so  much  better  informa- 
tion than  the  Russians.  The  latter  had  to  depend  on 
a  set  of  most  unreliable  Greek,  Armenian,  Polish  and 


196  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Jewish  sutlers.  The  news  these  ignorant  and  bump- 
tious men  picked  up  in  their  sober  moments  was  unre- 
liable and  inaccurate.  Besides,  they  blabbed  it  to 
everybody  who  wished  to  "draw"  them,  and  I  am 
sure  they  would  have  cheerfully  sold  it  to  the  Japanese 
if  the  latter  had  been  foolish  enough  to  bid  for  it. 
They  used  to  come  round  after  dark  every  day  to  the 
Russian  agent's  quarters,  but  the  Japanese  knew  them 
all  perfectly,  for  a  Japanese  agent  had  a  room  com- 
manding the  entrance  to  the  colonel's  house,  and  in 
this  room  there  was  always  a  watcher,  day  and  night. 
Besides  this,  Japanese,  got  up  as  Chinese  "jinrick- 
shaw" men,  were  always  stationed  at  our  door,  and 
nobody  passed  in  or  out  without  the  head  of  the 
Japanese  secret  service  organisation  knowing  of  it  at 
once.  In  fact,  the  Japanese  system  of  espionage  was 
absolutely  perfect,  and  that  because  of  the  zeal  with 
which  every  one  of  the  Mikado's  subjects  in  Tientsin 
worked  for  it.     I  shall  give  one  example. 

Going  into  a  Japanese  barber's  on  one  occasion  to 
get  my  hair  cut,  I  talked  to  the  barber  while  the 
operation  was  being  performed  about  his  native  town, 
which  I  knew  thoroughly,  and  I  think  he  got  the  im- 
pression that  I  had  just  been  in  Japan.  On  going 
away,  I  found  I  had  only  got  Russian  money  to  pay 
him  with.  Now  in  Tientsin  at  that  time,  Russian 
money  marked  the  owner  of  it  as  having  been  in 
Mukden,  and  I  am  told  that,  in  Haicheng  and  Liao- 
yang,  the  Japanese  used  to  imprison,  and  even  put  to 
death,  Chinese  whom  they  found  in  possession  of 
rouble  notes  which  they  could  not  give  a  satisfactory 
account  of.  Therefore,  the  fact  that  I  had  Russian 
money  and  that  I  had  evidently  just  come  from  Japan 


HOW  I  LEFT  MISHCHENKO  197 

at  once  aroused  the  suspicions  of  the  barber,  and 
he  very  cleverly  managed  to  detain  me  while  he  sent 
for  a  soldierly-looking  fellow  countryman  who  was 
probably  in  the  secret  service,  and  who  came  almost 
instantaneously  to  have  a  look  at  me. 

It  was  their  infinite  capacity  for  taking  pains  that 
made  the  Japanese  win  in  this  war,  and  that  made 
their  intelligence  service  far  superior  to  that  of  the 
Russians  ;  but,  by  saying  this,  I  do  not  mean  to  throw 
any  discredit  on  Colonel  Agorodinkoff.  In  fact,  I  was 
surprised  that  he  could  have  done  as  much  as  he  did, 
considering  the  unreliable  tools  he  had  to  work  with. 
Unfortunately,  any  European  nation  that  gets  into 
trouble  with  Japan  will  have  similarly  unreliable  tools 
to  depend  on.  It  will  be  a  question  of  money  against 
patriotic  fanaticism. 

A  Russian  secret  service  agent  in  Mukden — I  must 
explain  that  the  censors  were  all  secret  service  agents 
— once  confessed  to  me  that  he  found  it  absolutely 
impossible  to  get  information  from  Japan. 

u  It's  amazing !  "  he  said.  "  It's  as  if  the  country 
were  hermetically  sealed.  We  can  make  no  connec- 
tions.    We  can  get  no  news  of  military  movements." 

This  was  about  the  time  that  a  persecuted  Polish 
patriot,  who  had  fled  to  Tokio,  cursing  the  Tsar  and 
all  his  works,  had  been  coldly  received  by  the  Japanese, 
who  had  lost  no  time  in  seeing  him  on  board  the  first 
outgoing  steamer. 

Of  course  the  Russians  got  some  information.  Like 
the  Japanese,  and  like  every  political  or  Press  agent 
who  cared  to  spend  the  money,  they  got  all  the  tele- 
grams that  passed  along  the  Chinese  wires.  A  Russian 
newspaper  correspondent,  acting,   I  presume,  for  the 


198  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Russian  agent  at  Shan-hai-kwan,  with  whom  he  lived, 
had  bought  my  telegram  about  the  Mishchenko  raid 
over  the  counter  of  the  railway  telegraph  office  at  Shan- 
hai-kwan,  just  as  you  would  buy  a  box  of  cigars  at  a 
tobacconist's,  and,  when  I  came  down  to  Tientsin,  the 
Russians  knew  all  about  my  despatch.  This  is  not 
fancy  on  my  part,  for  I  afterwards  met  the  corre- 
spondent in  question  in  Shanghai,  and  he  unblushingly 
acknowledged  what  he  had  done. 

A  peculiar  thing  about  the  Russians  in  Tientsin  was 
that,  when  introduced  to  them  for  the  first  time,  they 
always  asked  me,  with  a  certain  odd  intonation  in  their 
voice:  "  What  brings  you  here?" — and  I  soon  saw 
that  this  was  a  pass-word  exchanged  among  their  secret 
agents.  I  never  tried  to  find  out  what  the  answer 
was,  but,  although  I  always  remained  outside  the 
charmed  circle,  I  felt  that  the  Russians  trusted  me 
implicitly. 

Before  leaving  for  the  north,  I  paid  a  visit  to 
Mr.  Lessar,  the  Russian  Minister  at  Peking,  now,  alas! 
dead.  When  I  called  on  him,  he  was  sitting  before 
his  desk  with  his  legs  extended  on  another  chair.  He 
wore  the  uniform  of  a  general,  and  was  looking  very 
worn.  He  told  me  that  he  had  been  in  Central  Asia 
and  had  known  Skoboleff ;  but  most  of  his  conversa- 
tion was  devoted  to  a  heated  exposition  of  the  dangers 
to  which  European  and  American  interests  in  the  Far 
East  were  exposed  through  the  Japanese  propaganda  in 
China.  He  told  me  in  the  most  earnest  manner  (and 
I  must  say  that,  owing  to  his  ghastly  appearance,  for 
he  was  then  dying,  his  words  had  a  great  effect  on 
me)  that  the  Japanese  were  working,  through  Yuan- 
shih-kai    and    the    Yangtsze    Viceroys,    towards    the 


HOW  I  LEFT  MISHCHENKO  199 

overthrow  of  the  Manchu  dynasty.  They  were  ex- 
citing a  revolutionary  spirit  in  the  country.  They 
were  at  the  back  of  some  of  the  powerful  secret 
societies,  and  they  were  even  using  their  Buddhist 
monks  down  in  the  south  to  scatter  the  seeds  of  revolt. 
The  Japanese  wanted  in  China  a  strong  new  Govern- 
ment, which  would  be  able  to  unite  with  them  against 
Europe  ;  and  England  would  be  the  first  to  suffer 
when  Japan  had  attained  this  end. 

Mr.  Lessar  protested  against  the  enormous  quantity 
of  ammunition  and  supplies  that  the  Japanese  were 
bringing  into  Newchwang  through  Chinese  territory 
and  against  Admiral  Togo's  seizure  of  the  Elliott 
Islands,  a  breach  of  neutrality  of  which  the  Powers 
had  taken  no  notice.  He  would  not,  however,  allow 
me  to  publish  his  name  in  connection  with  these 
remarks,  so  that  I  made  no  use  of  them  at  the  time. 

I  returned  to  Tsinmintun  with  a  number  of  Russian 
Legation  officials  who  were  going  home  that  way  to 
Europe,  and  I  again  met  my  Tommy  Atkins  friend  at 
Shan-hai-kwan,  and  heard  from  him  a  lot  of  strange 
stories  about  the  prosperous  Anglo-Chinese  railway, 
for  which  he  worked.  It  seems  that  since  the  war 
began,  and  especially  before  the  fall  of  Port  Arthur, 
the  Russians  had  spent  enormous  sums  in  bribing  the 
employes  of  this  railway  to  convey  food,  ammunition, 
etc.,  from  Tsinmintun  to  Shan-hai-kwan,  or  some  other 
port,  whence  it  was  shipped  to  Port  Arthur  by  captains 
who  had  also  received  enormous  bribes,  and  who 
would  each  of  them  have  been  rich  beyond  the  dreams 
of  avarice  if  they  had  succeeded  in  bringing  their 
precious  freight  of  explosives  into  the  beleaguered 
fortress.     In  spite  of  this  outlay  of  money,  which  must 


200  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

have  come  to  millions  of  pounds  sterling,  Japanese 
agents — not  one  of  whom  received,  I  suppose,  more 
than  a  pound  a  week — nipped  nearly  every  scheme  in 
the  bud.  Most  of  those  they  did  not  nip  were  nipped 
by  Togo's  blockading  squadron. 

I  left  Tientsin  for  my  Cossack  camp  with  the  greatest 
delight,  for,  after  such  a  long  absence  from  cities,  the 
life  of  Tientsin  disgusted  me.  To  be  separated  from 
my  horse,  to  sleep  within  four  walls,  to  eat  my  meals 
in  a  restaurant,  was  intolerable.  I  could  not  under- 
stand how  the  people  of  Tientsin  lived  the  unnatural 
life  they  led.  I  failed  to  comprehend  how  a  clerk 
could  sit  all  day  at  a  desk,  and  great  was  my  pity  for 
the  shop-boys  who  had  to  wear  immaculate  linen,  and 
whose  only  exercise  consisted  in  vaulting  over  the 
counter.  I  felt  that  I  knew  immeasurably  more  of 
life  than  they  did,  for  I  had  seen  wholesale  death.  I 
was  accordingly  delighted  when,  on  reaching  Tsin- 
mintun  at  nightfall  one  day,  I  found  there  a  force  of 
about  twenty  Cossacks  awaiting  to  convey  my  friends 
from  the  Legation,  inside  the  Russian  lines. 

Assuming  again  my  Russian  top-boots,  leathern 
jacket,  belt,  "polshubok,"  and  cap,  I  went  along  with 
them  on  my  faithful  horse,  which  an  English  railway 
employt  had  kindly  taken  care  of  all  this  time,  and  for 
which  I  had  now  brought,  by  way  of  New  Year's  gift, 
a  beautiful  new  English  bridle  that  I  had  purchased 
in  Tientsin.  Three  or  four  hours'  headlong  gallop  in 
the  dark  brought  us  across  the  Liao-ho  and  to  the 
first  Uape,  a  very  clean  one,  where  we  had  a  rousing 
reception. 

At  last,  after  wandering  long  amid  narrow  streets 
and  unsightly  houses — at  last  I  had  come  home  ! 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  BATTLE  OF  SANDYPU 

On  my  return  to  Mukden  I  found  the  wildest  tales  in 
circulation  regarding  my  departure  from  Mishchenko's 
force.  Cossack  officers  said  that  they  had  seen  me 
with  their  own  eyes  ride  into  Newchwang,  a  general 
at  the  "etat-major  "  had  declared  that  he  would  have 
ordered  the  Cossacks  to  fire  on  me  as  I  went  off,  if  I 
had  dared  to  leave  him  under  the  same  circumstances. 
Kuropatkin  had  complained  to  Mishchenko  about  me. 
Mishchenko  (who  had  not  heard  my  version  of  the 
story)  had  casually  told  his  men  to  hang  me  if  I  ever 
fell  into  their  hands. 

I  found  that  I  was  as  one  excommunicated.  The 
censor  had  wept  at  my  treachery,  and  declared  that 
his  belief  in  human  nature  was  shattered.  Brother 
correspondents  shook  their  heads  dolorously,  and  said 
that  it  was  all  up  with  me. 

The  Russian  diplomatists  with  whom  I  had  travelled 
from  Peking,  and  who  were  now  my  guests  in  Mukden, 
solemnly  advised  me,  after  seeing  some  prominent 
Russian  officials,  not,  as  I  valued  my  life,  to  go  back  to 
the  front.     The  soldiers  might  do  something  violent. 

I  went  back,  however,  that  very  day.  It  was 
snowing  and  cold  (20°  below  freezing-point  at  the  time 
I  started,  but  in  a  day  or  so  it  seemed  to  have  gone 


202  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

down  to  50°  below  freezing-point).  I  had  now  no 
Cossack  with  me,  for  PhilipofY  was  with  Mishchenko, 
but  I  thought  it  imperatively  necessary  to  explain 
matters  to  the  general  at  once  ;  so  I  set  out  alone, 
with  but  a  very  vague  idea  of  where  I  was  going  to, 
for  I  knew  that  Mishchenko  had  left  his  old  quarters, 
and  was  far  away  somewhere  down  along  the  Liao-ho. 

Towards  nightfall  I  reached  the  village  of  Sahu- 
dyapu  from  which  Mishchenko  had  started  on  his 
famous  raid  ;  but  as  it  was  now  the  headquarters  of 
General  Grippenberg,  a  very  severe  disciplinarian, 
who  had  been  maddest  of  all  about  my  escapade,  and 
who  would  have  at  once  sent  me  back  to  Mukden  if  I 
had  dared  to  call  on  him,  I  rode  past  as  quickly  as  I 
could.  The  cold  was  now  rendered  intense  owing  to 
a  cutting  wind  which  blew  from  the  north,  and  which 
seemed  to  penetrate  to  the  marrow  of  my  bones 
although  it  had  to  pass  through  no  less  than  three 
thick  coats  each  lined  with  sheepskin.  It  also  blew 
snow  in  my  eyes  so  that  I  could  hardly  see,  and, 
anyhow,  there  was  nothing  to  see — nothing  but  a  vast 
snowy  plain  of  infinite  desolation.  It  was  impossible 
for  me  to  distinguish  on  the  horizon  where  sky  began 
and  earth  ended.  I  seemed  to  be  caught  in  an 
immense  sphere  of  snowy  crystal.  No  words  can 
express  the  bleakness  of  these  polar  wastes. 

At  last  I  knew  what  a  northern  winter  meant,  and 
realised  the  force  of  Nekrassov's  description  of  that 
terrible  monarch  : 

In  the  sepulchres,  King  Winter  said, 
With  flowers  of  ice  I  deck  the  dead  ; 
I  freeze  the  blood  in  living  veins, 
And  in  living  heads  I  freeze  the  brains. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  SANDYPU  203 

Under  these  circumstances  I  was  delighted  to  meet 
with  a  red-bearded  Donsky  Cossack,  who  told  me  that 
he  was  riding  to  rejoin  the  detachment  of  General 
Mishchenko.  We  managed  to  converse,  after  a 
fashion,  on  quite  a  variety  of  subjects,  and  finally 
became  fast  friends. 

By-and-by  we  met  signs  of  life  in  this  desert.  The 
first  signs  of  life  consisted  of  a  young  Chinese  woman 
and  an  old  man  who  seemed  to  be  her  father,  both  of 
whom  were  being  conveyed  to  the  rear  by  a  Cossack. 
Then  came  some  more  Chinese.  An  aged  man  was 
carrying  on  his  back  an  old  door  !  One  young  couple 
had  with  them  an  ass  and  a  baby  boy.  I  thought  of 
the  Flight  into  Egypt ;  but,  alas !  this  child  is  more 
likely  to  be  a  Genghis  Khan  than  a  Christ.  Then  we 
met  signs  of  battle,  wounded  officers  and  men  being 
carried  on  stretchers,  and  a  score  or  so  of  Japanese 
prisoners.  I  talked  with  the  latter,  and  noticed  that,  far 
from  being  downcast,  they  spoke  up  cheerfully,  asking 
me  to  give  them  cigarettes.  One  of  them,  however, 
looked  very  sad.  He  was  a  handsome  youth,  and,  in 
contrast  with  the  jeering  Cossacks,  he  had  the  calm, 
unexpected,  foreign  face  of  an  Egyptian  statue,  of  a 
Rameses  II.  or  a  Queen  Tai.  Late  that  night  my 
friend  met  other  Cossacks  from  the  Don,  who  had 
established  themselves  snugly  in  a  Chinese  hut,  which 
they  had  managed  to  make  as  hot  as  an  oven.  The 
Cossacks  welcomed  me,  and  asked  me  to  share  their 
simple  meal  of  soup,  beef  and  black  bread,  which  I 
very  gladly  did,  although  the  beef  was  handed  to  me 
in  hands  which  were  none  too  clean.  I  gained  their 
hearts  by  repeating  snatches  of  Russian  songs  that  I 
had  picked  up,  but  grieved  them,  I  think,  by  going  to 


204  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

bed,  apparently  without  saying  my  prayers.  "And 
thou,  dost  thou  not  say  thy  prayers,  Little  Hawk 
(sok61ik)  ? "  As  for  them,  they  prayed  long  and 
fervently,  standing  up  facing  the  east  most  of  the 
time,  but  very  frequently  dropping  to  the  ground  with 
startling  suddenness  and  touching  the  floor  with  their 
foreheads. 

Next  morning  I  found  favour  with  them  again  by 
photographing  them  all  in  a  row  in  front  of  the  hut 
where  we  had  passed  the  night.  It  took  a  long  time 
before  they  had  arranged  themselves  to  their  own 
satisfaction  with  drawn  swords  in  front  of  the  camera, 
but  at  last  they  were  satisfied,  albeit  a  trifle  hurt  at 
first  because  I  could  not  give  them  the  "  sneemki " 
(photographs)  there  and  then. 

After  drinking  some  tea  I  and  my  companions  set 
out  again,  and  late  that  night  we  reached  the  house  of 
an  old  general  of  the  Don  Cossacks,  who  delighted  my 
heart  by  telling  me  that  I  was  now  at  the  extreme 
front — a  fact  which  I  had  already  discovered,  however, 
from  the  continual  rumble  of  cannon  and  the  crackling 
of  musketry — and  that  a  big  fight  was  going  on  a  few 
miles  off.  Even  while  he  was  talking,  a  young 
Japanese  cavalryman  was  led  in  prisoner,  and  in  order 
to  give  the  Donsky  general  a  high  idea  of  my  utility, 
I  forthwith  attempted  to  converse  with  him.  His  name 
was  Sakimoto,  he  came  from  Marga-Uchi,  Inaga,  and 
had  been  captured  in  a  neighbouring  village,  which 
he  and  about  a  dozen  other  scouts  had  entered.  The 
Cossacks  had  rushed  the  village,  but  all  the  Japanese 
had  escaped  save  our  friend,  who  told  me  to  ask  the 
"  seokwan  "  (general)  not  to  cut  his  head  off.  When  the 
general  heard  this,  he  swelled  visibly  with  benignity, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  SANDYPU  205 

and,  beaming  on  the  prisoner  like  a  father,  he  declared 
that  Russians  never  put  prisoners  to  death,  etc.  etc. 
Hearing  some  of  the  Russian  officers  using  the  word 
geisha,  the  prisoner  told  me  that  if  they  did  not  kill 
him  he  would  bring  back  from  Japan  any  number  of 
geisha  they  wanted — very  beautiful  geisha  too.  In 
spite  of  this  he  was  evidently  convinced  that  he 
was  going  to  be  put  to  death,  for  nothing  could  be 
sadder  than  the  look  in  his  dark  eyes  as  he  gave 
me  the  military  salute  before  being  taken  away. 
His  last  words  were  a  request  to  feed  his  horse, 
which  had  been  captured  with  him,  and  which  had 
not  had  anything  to  eat  since  morning.  The  old 
Cossack  leader  was  much  affected  when  he  heard 
this,  and  issued  immediate  directions  for  the  horse 
to  be  fed. 

As  soon  as  we  had  had  a  hasty  meal  of  preserves,  I 
wrapt  myself  in  my  warm  overcoat,  without  of  course 
removing  my  clothes  or  boots  or  hat,  or  cameras  even, 
and  laid  down  on  the  "  kang,"  but  at  about  three 
next  morning,  before  I  had  been  more  than  twenty 
minutes  asleep,  one  of  the  officers  awoke  me,  saying 
that  we  were  all  leaving  immediately.  When  I  went 
out  into  the  courtyard  I  thought  I  should  have  dropped 
dead,  for  the  cold  was  something  beyond  all  description. 
I  had  never  before  experienced  such  a  temperature.  I 
had  never  imagined  that  human  life  could  exist  in  such 
intense  cold.  The  Kirghiz  desert,  the  Antarctic  table- 
land, cannot,  I  said  to  myself,  be  half  as  bad  as  this. 
Owing  to  the  snow  which  had  fallen  during  the  night- 
time, and  to  the  freezing  of  the  natural  vapour  arising 
from  my  horse,  that  animal  had  the  appearance  of  a 
pre-historic  monster   embedded   in   an   Arctic   snow- 


206  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

drift.  Its  breath  had  frozen  on  leaving  its  nostrils  so 
that  there  was  a  horn  of  ice  a  foot  long  projecting  from 
its  nose,  and  lumps  of  the  hardest  ice  of  unequal 
sizes  had  become  attached  to  its  hoofs.  I  think 
that  at  that  moment  I  would  have  sacrificed  all  my 
prospects  in  this  world  and  the  next  for  a  warm 
bed  and  safety.  But,  unfortunately,  I  had  to  go,  and, 
in  a  few  moments  after  I  had  been  awakened,  I  had 
saddled  my  horse,  although  the  bit  burned  my 
benumbed  hands  like  frozen  mercury,  and  was  riding 
along  with  the  Donsky  Cossacks.  The  earth  was  all 
a  white  blank,  the  stars  were  of  extraordinary  bril- 
liancy, the  cold  prevented  me  from  noticing  more.  I 
wore  the  thickest  woollen  socks  that  Tientsin  could 
furnish,  and  over  them  I  wore  high  felt-lined  boots 
that  would  have  been  intolerably  hot  in  the  coldest 
English  winter  ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  this,  the  cold 
stirrups  burned  through  the  soles  of  my  boots  like  red- 
hot  irons,  and,  to  save  myself  from  the  loss  of  my  legs 
by  frost-bite,  I  jumped  off  my  horse  and  walked  on 
foot.  How  long  I  walked  I  don't  know,  but  I  noticed 
that  the  hardy  Cossacks  were  also  on  foot.  At  dawn 
we  entered  a  deserted  Chinese  village  at  one  end, 
while  in  at  the  other  end  came  my  friends  the 
Verkhnyudinsky  Cossacks  and  the  men  of  the 
Caucasian  brigade.  I  very  soon  explained  to  their 
satisfaction  my  ride  across  the  Liao-ho,  and  they 
told  me  of  the  bloody  battle  of  Sandypu  and  of  how 
Mishchenko  had  been  wounded  during  a  desperate 
attack  on  the  village  of  Wukiatsz,  which  a  handful 
of  Japanese  had  stuck  to  with  their  usual  bull-dog 
tenacity. 

Now,  for  the  retreat  from  Sandypu.     I  had  just 


THE  BATTLE  OF  SANDYPU  207 

made  myself  comfortable  in  a  Chinese  house,  with  my 
friends  of  the  Daghestansky  Polk,  when  the  usual  news 
came — instant  retreat.  It  was  now  evening,  and  the 
snow  was  falling  heavily.  Displacing  a  fleecy  pile  of 
it  from  my  saddle,  I  mounted  and  rode  north  through 
a  country  ensanguined,  despite  the  thick  white  mantle 
which  enshrouded  it,  by  a  blood-red  glow  extending 
all  over  the  western  heavens,  in  which  the  sun  was 
now  sinking. 

Long  after  darkness  had  fallen,  we  reached  a  village 
in  which  there  were  lights  and  crowds  of  soldiers  and 
officers,  and  stopped  in  the  outskirts  of  it  for  some 
time,  trying  to  locate  ourselves.  Under  the  impres- 
sion that  we  were  going  to  put  up  here  for  the  night. 
I  dismounted  and  entered  a  house,  but  soon  discovered 
that  my  party  had  gone  on  elsewhere.  Where  to  find 
them  on  such  a  dark  night  wTas  now  the  question. 
Fortunately  I  encountered  a  soldier  from  the  Daghe- 
stansky regiment,  and  followed  him.  It  was  very 
difficult  to  do  so,  however,  for  he  rode  a  fine  horse, 
and  went  at  a  break-neck  pace,  threading  his  way 
through  crowds  of  other  horsemen  from  whom  it  was 
difficult  to  distinguish  him.  In  fact  the  only  way  I 
could  distinguish  him  in  the  darkness  was  by  the  fact 
that  the  rump  of  his  horse  was  grey  and  that  a  weapon 
by  his  side  glinted  at  a  certain  angle. 

So  much  ice  had  become  attached  to  the  hoofs  of 
my  horse,  that  the  unfortunate  animal  seemed  to  be 
walking  on  four  stilts,  no  two  of  which  were  of  the 
same  length,  and,  to  make  matters  worse,  I  almost 
lost  all  feeling  in  my  own  extremities  owing  to  the 
intense  cold.  I  should  have  liked  to  walk  on  foot 
in  order  to  restore  my  circulation,  but   I  could  not 


208  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

now  do  so,  as  I  had  got  to  keep  up  with  this  horse- 
man. 

Some  time  before  daybreakmyguide  and  I  blundered 
into  a  large  body  of  cavalry  standing  compact  and 
almost  invisible  on  the  outskirts  of  a  village,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  darkness,  I  could  see  at  once  from  the 
multiplicity  of  strange  banners  which  they  carried 
folded  up,  that  they  were  the  Caucasians  I  was  in 
search  of.  There  seemed  to  be  some  difficulty  about 
getting  quarters  in  this  village,  for  we  had  to  remain 
on  the  outskirts  for  half  an  hour  while  our  leaders 
held  a  heated  discussion  with  some  soldiers  who  were 
already  in  possession. 

Finally  we  crowded  into  two  or  three  houses,  at 
least  the  officers  did  so.  The  men  lighted  huge  fires 
in  the  spacious  courtyards  of  these  houses  and  slept 
beside  them. 

Prince  Nahitchivansky  and  the  Caucasian  officers 
insisted  on  my  coming  into  the  house  which  they 
occupied  and  taking  my  place  on  the  warm  "kang" 
where,  after  an  hour  or  so,  I  slowly  began  to  thaw. 

Our  next  tribulation  came  in  the  shape  of  a  frozen 
general  and  his  men,  all  of  them  Donsky  Cossacks, 
who  insisted  most  emphatically  that  this  village  had 
been  assigned  to  them.  A  long  and  heated  debate 
on  this  subject  raged  between  our  adjutant  and  the 
adjutant  of  the  Donsky  general,  the  latter  gentleman 
being  apparently  too  frozen  to  speak  for  himself,  and, 
while  it  lasted,  our  hearts  almost  ceased  beating,  for 
the  prospect  of  having  to  leave  our  cosy  quarters  to 
face  the  biting  cold  outside  was  too  terrible.  It  was 
like  the  prospect  of  being  dragged  from  one's  warm 
bed  on  a  winter's  day  and  thrown  naked  into  a  hole  in 


THE  BATTLE  OF  SANDYPU  209 

an  icy  river,  and  the  reader  may  therefore  imagine 
the  agonising  interest  with  which  I  followed  the  con- 
test between  the  prince  from  the  frosty  Caucasus  and 
the  general  from  the  quiet  Don. 

Luckily  it  ended  in  an  amicable  compromise,  the 
general  being  given  a  place  on  the  "kang"  and  his 
followers  being  allowed  to  sleep  outside.  My  com- 
panions did  not  sleep,  however.  They  played  cards, 
and  the  words  "clubs,"  "trumps,"  "hearts,"  and  "ya 
eegrayu;  yapanemayu  "("I  play  :  I  understand"), — the 
strange  rhyme  which  one  hoarse-voiced  player  kept 
repeating  every  few  minutes, — were  the  last  sounds  I 
heard  as  I  dropped  off.  On  such  occasions  the  con- 
gestion was  terrible  and  was  made  worse,  in  the  morn- 
ing, by  every  one  insisting  on  washing  his  face  inside 
the  hut.  As  a  Russian  officer,  when  he  washes, 
requires  the  attendance  of  his  orderly,  who  first  pours 
water  on  his  hands  out  of  a  cup  and  then  pours  it  on 
his  head,  neck  and  face,  it  was  generally  impossible  to 
cross  the  floor  of  a  room  without  upsetting  somebody 
or  something. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  might  be  expected 
that  rows  would  take  place,  but  the  Russians  were 
invariably  good-natured  and  forbearing.  For  my  own 
part  I  always  washed  outside,  but  as  I  could  never 
pluck  up  sufficient  courage  to  take  off  any  of  my  three 
overcoats,  I  am  afraid  that  my  ablutions  were  of 
rather  a  perfunctory  character. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MUKDEN  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE 

Just  before  the  battle,  which  will  for  ever  make  its 
name  celebrated,  the  city  of  Mukden  was  at  its  best. 

In  order  to  find  that  ancient  capital  presenting  as 
picturesque  and  animated  a  picture  as  it  did  then,  one 
must  go  back  to  the  early  days  of  the  Manchus,  to  the 
days  when  Mukden  was  a  real  capital 

For  several  reigns  it  has  not  received  an  imperial 
visit.  The  palace  is  in  decay,  and  it  is  hard  to  dis- 
cover what  the  Tartar-general  does  with  the  thousands 
of  pounds  sterling  which  he  annually  receives  from  the 
Court  at  Pekin  for  its  upkeep.  Probably  he  pockets 
them.  Anyhow  the  continual  neglect  of  the  Court  had 
doubtless  a  good  deal  to  do  with  Mukden's  loneliness 
two  years  ago. 

When  I  came  to  Mukden,  in  April  1904,  I  found  the 
city  very  dull,  contrasting  strongly  in  this  respect  with 
Liao-yang.  Filled  with  temples  and  with  Buddhist 
monks,  it  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  faded  ecclesiastical 
capital,  like  Kandy  in  Ceylon,  Ayuthia  inSiam,  or  Kyoto 
in  Japan.  When  travellers  landed  at  the  bleak  little 
shanty  which  serves  as  the  railway-station,  they  found 
the  place  almost  deserted.  The  station-master,  a  Greek 
barber,  and  a  few  officers  and  soldiers,  were  the  sole 
inhabitants  of  this  sequestered  spot.     There  was  no 


MUKDEN  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE        211 

buffet,  and  no  "jinrikshas"or  other  means  of  conveyance 
waited  outside.  As  the  city  is  miles  distant  from  the 
station,  this  lack  of  transport  facilities  was  a  serious 
matter  ;  and  travellers  had  to  walk  toward  that  part  of 
the  horizon  where  they  believed  Mukden  to  lie,  much 
in  the  same  way  as  Red  Indians  out  in  the  prairies  of 
the  Far  West  stalk  stolidly  homewards  after  leaving 
the  train  at  some  point  where,  barring  the  railway- 
station,  there  is  not  a  house  in  sight. 

In  the  city  itself  there  were  only  two  or  three  houses 
where  European  commodities  could  be  purchased. 
The  streets  were  almost  deserted,  and  the  citizens 
had  not  yet  got  over  their  habit  of  staring  at  European 
customers  as  if  the  latter  wore  more  than  the  regulation 
number  of  heads. 

February  1905. — What  a  change  has  now  taken 
place  ! 

The  station  is  provided  with  a  buffet,  into  which  I 
have  only  been  able  to  penetrate]  once  or  twice,  owing 
to  the  throngs  of  officers,  doctors,  and  Red  Cross 
nurses  that  always  fill  it. 

The  crowd  of  "  jinrikshas  "  that  wait  outside  re- 
minds one  of  Shimbashi  station  at  Tokio.  There 
is  a  big  detachment  of  soldiers  going  north,  for  a  body 
of  Japanese  cavalry  has  just  blown  up  a  railway 
bridge  at  Changchun,  160  miles  north  of  Mukden,  and 
a  brigade  of  the  41st  Division  has  been  sent  to  inter- 
cept them.  Two  regiments  of  Cossacks  have  also 
marched  into  Mongolia  on  the  same  fruitless  mission, 
and,  when  they  return,  they  will  find  that  the  battle  of 
Mukden  has  been  fought  and  lost. 

The  streets  of  the  city  are  as  crowded  as  the  streets 
of  a  flourishing  market  town  in  England  during  the 


212  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Christmas  season.     Sometimes,  indeed,  the  congestion 
of  traffic  would  do  credit  to  the  Strand. 

Interminable  lines  of  transport-carts  and  horses  get 
locked  together  at  the  gates  and  block  the  street  traffic 
for  hours  together. 

M  Jinrikshas,"  pedestrians,  horsemen,  and  Chinese 
carters  try  to  make  their  way  through  the  swaying 
mass  of  cursing  men  and  rearing  horses  with  the  result 
that  they  only  render  the  confusion  worse  confounded. 
What  a  mixture  of  races  and  variety  of  types  one 
now  meets  in  the  streets !  Here  a  Buriat  Cossack 
sits  in  an  "arba"  (cart)  on  the  side  of  the  street, 
bargaining  with  a  placid  Chinese  shopkeeper,  who, 
patiently,  smilingly,  insistently  demands  five  hundred 
per  cent,  above  the  market  price.  This  Buriat  has  to 
take  supplies  to  his  "  sotnia,"  which  is  fifty  miles  off  to 
the  south-east,  and  to-night  he  will  sleep  in  his  cart 
outside  the  walls,  wrapped  in  his  capacious  but  dirty 
"  shuba,"  or  sheepskin  coat,  with  his  purchases  under 
him  and  his  horse  tethered  to  the  shafts  of  the  vehicle. 

Alas !  here  comes  a  melancholy  crowd  of  Chinese 
refugees — the  inhabitants  of  some  once  prosperous 
village.  Clad  in  rags  and  scarcely  able  to  walk 
from  hunger,  they  present  a  pitiable  sight,  and,  strange 
to  say,  it  is  not  the  Russians  but  their  own  country- 
men and  countrywomen  who  jeer  at  them  as  they 
stagger  past. 

Half  a  dozen  magnificent  horses,  half  of  them  Arab 
horses,  half  English,  are  held  by  orderlies  outside  a 
small  place  which  calls  itself  an  hotel.  These  horses 
belong  to  officers  who  had  volunteered  from  the  Guards 
at  the  beginning  of  the  war.  They — the  officers — had 
heard  of  the  parade  into  Pekin  in  1900  and  thought 


THE  SOUTH  GATE  OF  MUKDEN 


MUKDEN  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE        213 

that  there  was  going  to  be  a  similar  parade  into  Seoul 
and  Tokio  in  1904.  They  had  therefore  promised 
their  friends  souvenirs  from  the  Mikado's  capital,  and 
had  all  been  careful  to  provide  themselves  beforehand 
with  handy  little  Russo-Japanese  phrase-books. 

One  of  the  greatest  surprises  in  Mukden  is  the 
cosy  little  "interior"  belonging  to  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ross, 
of  the  Scotch  Presbyterian  Church.  It  is  a  perfect 
British  home,  with  library,  drawing-room,  clock  ticking 
in  the  hall,  warm  blazing  fire,  everything  complete. 
A  supper  with  Dr.  Ross  after  one  has  come  in  from 
some  Cossack  raid  is  enough  to  make  one  imagine 
that  he  has  never  left  the  English  shore,  and  that  all 
his  recent  experiences  are  only  unpleasant  dreams. 

Throughout  the  meal,   the  doctor,  whose  medical 
work  among  the  Chinese  poor  has  made  him  respected 
by  every  one  in  Mukden,  speaks  about  China — on  which 
country  he  has  written  several  valuable  books  ;  after 
supper  is  over  and  grace  has  been  said,  young  Miss 
Ross  plays  the  piano ;  but  it  remains  for  the  baby  to  add 
by  its  artless  prattling  the  last  touch  needed  in  order 
to  make  one  imagine  oneself  back  in  the  old  country. 
There  are  not  many   English  folk  in  Mukden,  but, 
nevertheless,  English  influence  is  strong  there.     The 
Chinese  postal  and  telegraph  officials  are  under  Sir 
Robert    Hart,    and    therefore  pro-English.     This    is 
useful    in    many   ways    to  the   correspondents.     For 
instance,  we  not  only  pick  our  own  mail  out  of  the 
mail-bags  at  the  post  office,  but  pick  out  all  the  news- 
papers addressed  to  the   censor  as    well.     As  these 
newspapers    sometimes  contain    uncensored    articles 
their  seizure  saves  trouble,  but  some  correspondents 
go  too  far.     One  of  them,  for  instance,  an  American, 


2i4  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

has  had  the  audacity  to  intercept  for  a  year  or  so  all 
the  English  papers  and  periodicals  that  come  to 
Admiral  Alexeieff,  the  Viceroy  of  the  Far  East !  The 
censor,  who  has  arranged  to  get  two  copies  of  each 
of  our  papers,  is  amazed  sometimes  at  their  non- 
arrival.  He  always  manages  to  get  hold  of  the  New 
York  Herald,  however,  and  I  was  very  proud  of  this 
fact  until  I  discovered  that  it  was  not  my  articles 
which  attracted  him,  but  a  series  of  coloured  cartoons 
in  the  Sunday  edition  representing  the  career  of  an 
American  enfant  terrible  called  Buster  Brown. 

Outside  the  west  gate,  the  Dai- Lama's  Temple, 
Quan-si-howlo,  in  which  I  lived  for  a  time  after 
coming  to  Mukden,  has  greatly  changed.  It  has  lost 
its  pristine  calm,  and  is  full  of  Russian  officers  and 
soldiers.  The  young  Lamas  are  rapidly  acquiring 
Russian,  but  losing,  I  am  afraid,  their  vocation. 
Luckily,  however,  monastic  life  in  Lama  monasteries 
is  not  too  strict. 

Members  of  the  Caucasian  brigade  are  strolling 
down  the  street  with  their  hands  on  the  hilts  of  their 
swords  and  their  brains — such  as  they  are — busy 
with  the  solution  of  the  perplexing  problem,  "  Why  is 
this  place  not  delivered  over  to  loot  ?  " 

These  bold  Mohammedan  mountaineers  have  stout 
hearts  and  fine  swords,  and  horses  and  a  picturesque 
costume,  but  as  soldiers  they  have,  as  I  tell  elsewhere, 
their  shortcomings.  Their  discipline  is  anything  but 
perfect,  and  no  two  of  them  speak  the  same  language, 
so  that  when  their  colonel  gives  the  order  to  charge, 
hours  elapse  before  the  numerous  translators  have 
made  a  fair  proportion  of  them  understand  what  is 
required  of  them. 


MUKDEN  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE        215 

It  is  surprising  how  well  the  Russian  privates  and 
the  Chinese  fraternise.  They  shake  hands,  they  play 
with  one  another  like  children.  They  are  on  terms  of 
perfect  equality.  I  have  seen  officers  shake  hands  with 
Chinese  interpreters.  Just  imagine  what  would  happen 
if  a  choleric  old  Indian  colonel  stepped  out  on  to  the 
verandah  of  his  bungalow  one  morning,  and  observed 
any  of  his  men  making  as  free  with  Ramasamy, 
as  the  Russian  soldier  does  with  "  John  Chinaman." 
He  would  immediately  conclude  that  the  man  was  in- 
toxicated. But  whatever  trouble  he  may  give  his 
superiors  in  other  directions,  Tommy  Atkins  is  not 
likely  to  distress  them  by  over-familiarity  with  the 
natives.  Drunk  or  sober,  he  will  stroll  about  in  gloomy 
and  magnificent  isolation,  so  far  as  his  dusky  Aryan 
brothers  are  concerned,  and  be  more  likely  to  kill  one 
of  them  with  a  kick  than  with  kindness. 

At  every  step  you  see  soldiers  bargaining  with  in- 
flexible Chinese  for  a  bottle  of  vodka  or  a  handful  of 
nuts  or  a  pair  of  socks.  Sometimes  you  see  a  soldier 
eating  an  apple  at  a  fruitseller's  stall.  This  soldier  is 
supposed  to  discharge  the  duties  of  a  policeman,  and 
the  apple  represents  bribery  and  corruption. 

A  Manchu  woman  walks  down  the  street  with  a  free 
stride,  which  contrasts  with  the  mincing  gait  of  the 
small-footed  Chinese  woman.  This  and  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  hair  are  the  only  tokens  by  which  you 
can  distinguish  the  Manchu  woman  from  the  Chinese 
woman.  As  for  the  men,  the  Manchu  is  practically 
undistinguishable  from  the  Chinese.  Yet,  once  upon 
a  time,  the  Manchu  came  down  on  the  Celestial 
Empire  like  a  wolf  on  the  fold,  even  as  the  Russians 
have  done.    He  has  given  a  dynasty  to  China,  but  that 


216  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

dynasty  is  now  more  Chinese  than  the  Chinese  dynasties 
that  preceded  it.  The  Manchu  bannermen  have  be- 
come more  cowardly  and  worthless  than  the  Chinese 
soldiers  whom  they  conquered  ;  and  Manchuria,  the 
mother  country  of  the  Manchu,  is  now  overrun  by 
Chinese.  Has  not  Japan,  therefore,  been  too  hasty  ? 
Whether  Russia  remains  master  of  Manchuria  or 
not,  the  Chinese  will,  in  a  few  thousand  years,  be  all 
over  the  Primosk,  Ussouri,  Transbaikal.  A  few 
thousand  years  are  nothing  to  the  Empire  which  has 
seen  Assyria,  Egypt  and  Rome  flourish  and  decay. 

A  Chinese  "iperevodcheek,"  or  regimental  translator, 
rides  by  in  all  the  glory  of  high  boots,  spurs,  striped 
trousers,  a  fur  cloak,  a  sword,  a  revolver  and  a  busby. 
Beneath  his  gaudy  headgear  there  is  no  pigtail ;  he 
has  cut  it  off,  or  some  soldier  has  done  so  for  him.  He 
is  a  handsome  boy  of  some  sixteen  summers,  and  I 
happen  to  know  something  of  his  history.  He  went 
originally  from  Chefoo  to  Port  Arthur,  where  he 
learned  Russian  in  a  small  Chinese  shop,  over  the 
counter  of  which  he  many  a  time  and  oft  handed  me 
boxes  of  cigarettes  and  parcels  of  humble  groceries  in 
exchange  for  Russian  roubles.  On  the  outbreak  of 
the  war  he  first  returned  to  Chefoo,  then  went  to 
Yinkow,  and  was  finally  engaged  as  interpreter  by  a 
Russian  colonel  of  Cossacks,  then  stationed  in  Liao- 
yang.  He  stops  his  pony  in  the  street  in  order  to 
question  an  old  Chinaman  who  happens  to  be  passing 
by,  and  a  curious  crowd  quickly  collects  around  him. 
The  old  man  gazes  sadly  at  the  well-favoured  youth, 
and  answers  his  questions  with  the  same  melancholy 
sarcasm  as  an  aged  Tipperary  man  would  employ  in 
answering  the  questions  of  a  fellow  Irishman  wh:>  had 


MUKDEN  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE        217 

forsworn  the  wearing  of  the  green  and  was  bursting 
with  importance  in  a  suit  of  "  England's  cruel  red." 

Since  the  retreat  from  Liao-yang  the  streets  of 
Mukden  have  all  blossomed  out  into  Russian  signs, 
more  or  less  grammatical.  Some  of  them  may  possibly 
have  been  brought  from  Liao-yang,  for  I  remember 
that  on  the  day  that  General  Stackelberg  abandoned 
Shu-shan  all  of  the  Russian  signboards  over  Chinese 
shops  were  hastily  withdrawn.  All  of  them  are  easily 
detachable,  so  that  at  a  moment's  notice  they  can  be 
thrown  into  a  cart  and  sent  on  to  Tie-ling  or  Kharbin. 

Every  second  shop  in  Mukden  is  now  selling 
European  goods.  It  may  have  been  a  pawnshop 
before  or  a  Chinese  drug-store,  but  it  is  now  selling 
Armour's  beef,  St.  Charles'  cream,  Wright's  health 
underwear  and  a  variety  of  other  European  and 
American  articles — all  of  them  made  in  Japan,  although 
the  manufacturers  refrain  from  stating  that  fact  on  the 
labels. 

Mukden's  great  original  line  is  furs,  of  which  there 
is  an  imposing  display  in  the  streets  ;  in  fact,  the  whole 
city  is  one  vast  fur  market.  Sheepskins  are  especially 
plentiful — sheepskin  gloves,  sheepskin  stockings  and 
sheepskin  overcoats.  Most  of  the  sheepskin  in 
the  gloves  and  stockings  was  originally  worn  by 
Chinese  dogs,  in  the  ridiculous  belief  that  it  was  dog- 
skin, or  by  goats  labouring  under  a  delusion  that  it 
was  goatskin.  Nevertheless,  there  is  enough  good  fur 
in  Mukden  to  make  me  regret  that  the  wise  old 
custom  of  our  ancestors,  according  to  which  a  pagan 
city  held  by  Christian  troops  was  periodically  looted  so 
as  to  inspire  the  presumptuous  burghers  with  the  fear 
of  God,  has  been  allowed  to  fall  into  disuse.      If  that 


XI 8  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

custom   is   revived   there   are   one   or   two  shops  in 
Mukden  that  I  should  like  to  pay  a  visit  to. 

There  are  crowds  of  horsemen,  mounted  and  dis- 
mounted, vociferating  outside  the  numerous  saddlers' 
shops  that  line  the  street  and  dazzle  the  unwary  rider 
with  a  display  of  imitation  Cossack  saddles  that  come 
to  pieces  at  the  end  of  a  day's  ride. 

A  Chinese  showman  with  a  performing  sheep  is 
gladdening  the  hearts  of  the  simple  Russian  soldiers  ; 
while  close  by  there  passes,  unobserved,  a  farmer 
carrying  on  his  shoulders  two  trampled  bundles  of 
kiaoliang,  or  Chinese  corn,  representing  the  harvest 
yielded  perhaps  by  a  dozen  acres  of  land.  This  har- 
vest he  had  tended  with  unwearied  care  until  the 
storm  of  shrapnel  burst,  and  men,  horses,  carriages 
and  guns  rolled  like  an  avalanche  over  his  crops. 

At  this  time  a  strange  trade  has  sprung  up  in  Mukden 
— the  collection,  at  the  front,  of  cart-loads  of  the  little 
leaden  tops  of  shells,  and  their  sale  to  Chinese  lead 
merchants  in  the  city.  I  may  mention  that  during  a 
battle  I  often  found  these  little  caps  useful  as  drinking 
cups,  when  nothing  else  was  available. 

A  long  side  street  is  entirely  devoted  to  tinkers,  who 
turn  out  the  best  work  that  is  produced  in  Mukden  to- 
day. They  make  those  fine  strong  copper  household 
utensils  which  are  so  largely  used  in  China  and  which 
look  so  much  better  than  our  tin  articles.  Day  by  day 
they  work  in  their  little  open  shops,  surprised  and 
delighted  if  a  foreigner  manifests  any  interest  in  their 
humble  labour,  careless  about  wars  and  rumours  of 
wars,  and  sure  to  be  safe,  no  matter  who  wins  or  loses. 
Akin  to  the  tinker  is  the  old  cobbler  at  the  street 
corner,   the  man  who  makes  small  dough  pies,  the 


MUKDEN  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE        219 

ragman,  and  all  that  honest  humble  brotherhood  which 
is  not  interested  in  politics  and  has  nothing  to  fear 
from  the  destruction  of  armies  and  the  fall  of  thrones. 
A  Mongol  lama,  with  vestments  of  green  and  gold 
and  shaven  head,  is  slowly  picking  his  way  across  the 
crowded  street,  fingering  his  beads  all  the  time  and 
feverishly  muttering:  "  Om  manepadme  hun,  om  mane 
padme  hun,"  for,  owing  to  his  lack  of  a  pigtail,  he  has 
been  already  arrested  six  times  to-day  on  suspicion  of 
being  a  Japanese.  Majestic  mules  move  along,  their 
upper  lips  curled  as  if  in  disdain,  but  really  because  a 
slender  steel  chain  passes  across  the  upper  gum,  and 
is  used  for  guiding  them.  Mandarins  go  past  in  faded 
sedan  chairs. 

Suddenly  there  is  a  commotion,  and  two  long  lines 
of  Chinese  dressed  in  red  and  carrying  staves  in  their 
hands  come  along  at  a  brisk  trot.  One  can  at  once 
see  by  their  bearing  that  they  are  the  retainers  of 
some  great  man  ;  and  so  they  are,  for  behind  them 
comes  the  famous  Jan-June  or  Tartar-general,  carried 
in  a  curtained  palanquin.  He  is  on  his  way  to  the 
temple,  where  he  will  return  thanks  to  the  gods,  for 
to-day  is  the  Empress  Dowager's  birthday  ;  and,  as 
he  is  borne  hurriedly  past,  one  catches  just  a  fleeting 
glimpse  of  his  gorgeous  robes,  enveloping  a  tall,  bent, 
meagre  form,  his  worn  parchment-like  face  of  the 
Li-Hung-Chang  type,  with  deeply  marked  semicircles 
underneath  the  eyes,  his  head  crowned  by  a  Chinese 
cap  with  the  peacock  feather,  and  his  scanty  beard 
and  moustache. 

Are  we  in  the  China  of  the  twentieth  century  or  in 
the  Jerusalem  or  Antioch  of  the  Caesars  ?  It  was  under 
this  mild  old  gentleman's  regime  that  the  Christians, 


220  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

were  martyred  four  years  ago  in  this  very  city.  Just 
outside  the  south  gate  stands  the  wreck  of  the 
cathedral  where  the  massacre  was  carried  out. 

Poor   Pere  has  to  say  Mass  now   in  a  little 

shanty  hung  around  with  tawdry  Chinese  decorations, 
but  I  think  I  can  say  that  I  generally  hear  Mass  there 
with  more  devotion  than  I  ever  experienced  in  any  of 
the  historic  churches  of  the  Continent.  The  strange, 
nasal,  strident  chanting  of  the  Chinese  congregation 
is  not,  it  is  true,  conducive  to  devotion,  but  many  of 
these  men  bear  scars  that  they  received  at  the  sack  of 
the  cathedral ;  and,  though  they  wear  pigtails,  I  fail  to 
see  the  difference  between  them  and  the  Georges  and 
Andrews  whose  emblems  are  embroidered  on  royal 
standards.  Some  Polish  soldiers  also  turn  up  every 
Sunday  and  thumb  their  way  religiously  through 
greasy  prayer-books,  and,  on  one  occasion,  I  met  there 
the  late  General  Gerard,  the  British  attach^  who 
probably  never  expected  at  that  time  that  in  a  few 
months  more  he  would  be  dead  at  Irkutsk. 

Meanwhile  the  Jan-June  continues  his  march — but, 
hark !  Clear  and  unmistakable  above  the  roar  of  the 
busy  street  comes  the  boom  of  distant  cannon.  If  his 
triumphal  progress  through  the  city  has  lulled  the  hoary 
persecutor  of  the  Christians  into  a  sense  of  false 
security  that  ominous  sound  will  quickly  awaken  him. 

The  Japanese  are  thundering  at  the  gates  of  Mukden ! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  BATTLE  OF  MUKDEN 

In  the  beginning  of  March  1905,  three  great  Russian 
armies  lay  in  a  line  south  of  Mukden.  On  the  ex- 
treme left  of  this  line,  in  fact  away  over  near  the 
Yalu  river,  was  Colonel  Madridoff,  with  a  small  force 
of  Cossacks  and  Russified  Hunghuze.  On  the  left 
was  Linievitch  with  the  first  army.  On  the  extreme 
right,  that  is,  near  the  Liao  river,  were  the  Cossacks 
of  Mishchenko  and  Tolmatcheff.  On  the  right  was 
General  Kaulbars,  who  commanded  the  Second  Army, 
composed  of  the  8th  and  10th  corps  and  of  a  mixed 
command  made  up  of  three  rifle  brigades,  and  whose 
headquarters  were  at  Meturan.  The  headquarters  of 
General  Tserpitsky,  who  commanded  the  8th  corps, 
and  to  whom  I  was  attached  during  the  battle,  were 
in  a  village  a  little  east  of  Meturan. 

The  space  between  Kaulbars  and  Linievitch  was 
occupied  by  General  Bilderling,  whose  headquarters 
were  at  Suiatun  or  Suchiatun  station  on  the  rail- 
way. 

Against  Kaulbars  came  Oku  with  the  2nd  Japanese 
army.  Against  Bilderling  came  Nodzu  with  the 
4th  army.  Against  Linievitch  came  Kuroki  with  the 
1  st  army.  I  need  hardly  say  that  Nogi  with  the  3rd 
army  turned   our  right  flank,  and  that  on  our  right 


222  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

therefore  the  fighting  was  hotter  and  more  desperate 
than  at  any  other  point  in  the  battle-field. 

On  Friday,  February  24,  I  happened  to  be  in  a 
village  called  Ubanyula,  some  ten  or  fifteen  versts 
south-west  of  Sifontai,  and,  therefore,  near  the  Liao 
River,  and  on  the  extreme  right  of  the  Russians.  In 
this  village,  Rennenkampf  temporarily  commanded 
Mishchenkos  Cossacks,  Mishchenko  being,  as  I  have 
already  intimated,  in  a  hospital  at  Mukden,  wounded 
in  the  knee.  On  this  day  a  typical  Cossack  banquet 
was  given  by  the  colonel  and  officers  of  the  Verkhny- 
udinsky  regiment  to  commemorate  the  departure  next 
day  of  Rennenkampf  s  whole  detachment  for  the  south. 
Orders  had  been  received  to  march  next  morning  as  far 
as  Davan,  a  place  on  the  Liao-ho,  some  dozen  miles 
further  south.  Nobody  knew  what  was  to  be  done 
after  they  had  reached  Davan,  but  the  general 
impression  was  that  they  were  then  to  march  on 
Yinkow,  or  east  on  the  Japanese  railway.  Next  day 
however,  this  order  was  countermanded,  and,  shortly 
after,  Rennenkampf  was  sent  east  to  replace  Alexeieff, 
who  seemed  to  be  handling  his  corps  very  badly. 
Mishchenko's  cavalry  force  was  then  broken  up  to 
some  extent,  and  Grekoff  took  what  remained  of  it. 

Grekoff  is  a  short,  stout,  red-faced  man  with  Dun- 
dreary whiskers,  very  fond  of  the  pleasures  of  the 
table,  and  formerly  notorious  in  Mukden  for  hanging 
round  the  provision  waggon  of  the  Ekonomitchesky 
Obchestvo  in  the  hope  of  buying  some  new  delicacy  for 
his  kitchen,  so  that  he  was  hardly  the  man  to  leave  in 
command  at  this  important  point ;  and,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  some  Russians  attribute  the  loss  of  the  battle  to 
the  inefficient  way  in  which  at  the  outset  this  cavalry 


THE  BATTLE  OF  MUKDEN  223 

leader  handled  his  Cossacks.  In  the  opinion  of  these 
critics — of  whose  qualifications  to  judge  I  must,  how- 
ever, say  that  I  know  nothing — Grekoff  should  have 
been  able,  by  means  of  his  scouts,  to  hear  of  Nogis 
approach  ;  but  probably  the  Cossacks,  who  were  taking 
things  easy  after  the  withdrawal  of  the  iron-minded 
Rennenkampf,  whom  they  hated  for  the  way  in  which 
he  made  them  work,  were  somewhat  to  blame  them- 
selves. However  that  may  be,  Grekoff  was  quite 
surprised  to  learn,  on  February  26,  just  as  he  was 
sitting  down  to  dinner,  that  a  strong  Japanese  column 
was  approaching  from  the  north — of  all  places  in  the 
world! — while  another  was  coming  from  the  south. 
The  Cossacks  had  just  time  to  escape,  and,  save  for 
their  subsequent  repulse  of  an  attack  on  the  railway 
north  of  Mukden,  I  did  not  hear  of  anything  done  by 
them  on  the  right  flank  at  this  battle.  After  all, 
Charles  XII.  was  right  when  he  said  that  the  Cos- 
sacks are  only  good  for  cutting  up  a  defeated  army. 

I  was  not  with  the  Cossacks  on  the  occasion  of  this 
interrupted  banquet,  as  I  had  left  them  the  day  before 
in  order  to  return  to  Mukden.  After  passing  through 
Sifontai,  I  came  to  the  district  occupied  by  the  1st 
Siberian  Corps,  and  was  astonished  to  find  that  it  had 
been  evacuated.  All  the  villages  were  deserted,  and 
sundry  indications  pointed  to  the  fact  that  the  soldiers 
had  left  only  a  few  hours  before.  The  names  of  regi- 
ments were  still  chalked  up  on  the  walls,  but  there  was 
not  a  soul  about,  not  even  a  solitary  specimen  of  the 
aboriginal  inhabitants,  the  Chinese.  In  the  high  wind 
that  blew,  doors  swung  violently  on  their  hinges,  and 
nobody  cried  to  the  soldiers  to  shut  them.  No  smoke 
issued  from  the  chimneys.     There  was  no  sign  of  life 


224  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

save  a  few  hungry  dogs.  The  landscape  was  to  the 
last  degree  sad.  It  was  noonday,  and  the  sun  was 
making  some  attempt  to  shine,  but  a  graveyard  by 
moonlight  would  be  a  cheerful  spectacle  in  comparison 
with  the  scene  which  lay  spread  out  before  me  on  that 
occasion.  The  surface  of  the  illimitable,  bare,  brown 
plain  had  thawed,  apparently  to  the  depth  of  a  few 
inches,  and  the  dust  flew  from  it  in  whirling  clouds  and 
pillars.  Whenever  one  raised  a  foot,  a  huge  puff  of 
dust  rushed  out  tumultuously  from  under  it,  like  genii 
out  of  a  magic  bottle  which  had  accidentally  been 
uncorked  ;  and  it  was  like  being  overwhelmed  by  an 
avalanche  to  find  oneself  on  the  windward  side  of  a 
passing  patrol  of  horsemen,  or  of  a  train  of  trans- 
ports. There  was  a  thick  coating  of  dust  on  every 
face,  so  that  the  passing  soldiers  looked  like  corpses. 
A  ghastly  grey  mask  covered  their  features  and  their 
beards.  The  wrinkles  around  their  mouths  and  eyes 
looked  like  deep  scars.  The  eyes  themselves  were 
distant  and  sunken. 

I  overtook  a  company  of  Siberian  foot  soldiers 
trudging  along  the  road,  and  learned  from  them  that 
the  i  st  Corps  had  been  suddenly  ordered  to  the  ex- 
treme left  flank.  The  soldiers  and  officers  were  so 
dead  tired,  so  utterly  done  up,  that  they  could  hardly 
speak.  They  had  not  even  enough  energy  left  to 
arrest  me  for  not  having  the  password.  They  found  it 
hard  even  to  drag  one  leg  after  the  other,  and  had  to 
throw  themselves  flat  on  the  ground  every  twenty 
minutes  or  so  in  order  to  get  a  short  rest.  A  little 
further,  however,  they  were  able,  I  dare  say,  to  take 
the  branch  railway  to  the  main  line,  whence  they  could 
go  by  train  to  Fushun,  but  they  had  so  far  to  walk 


THE  BATTLE  OF  MUKDEN  225 

after  they  got  to  Fushun  that  they  must  have  had  no 
great  desire  for  fighting  when  they  reached  their 
destination.  A  few  days  after,  when  Kuropatkin  dis- 
covered that  the  Port  Arthur  army  was  on  his  right 
flank,  instead  of  on  his  left,  he  brought  the  1st 
Siberians  back  again  to  the  extreme  right,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  fatigue  and  demoralisation  all  this  aimless 
wandering  meant,  they  resisted  Nogi's  terrible  on- 
slaught with  conspicuous  bravery  and  stubbornness. 

I  put  up  this  evening  at  the  head-quarters  of  the 
Second  Army,  that  is,  at  the  village  of  Meturan. 
This  village  is  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Hun,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  branch  railway  running  east  along  that 
river.  It  was  a  clean,  whitewashed  village,  in  which 
every  house  was  numbered,  and  bore  on  its  exterior  a 
list  of  the  people  staying  inside.  In  spite  of  its  being 
a  Chinese  village,  there  was  an  air  of  severity,  cleanli- 
ness and  order  about  it  which  reminded  one  partly  of 
a  barracks  and  partly  of  a  convent,  so  that  when  I  saw 
the  flames  licking  it  up  a  few  days  after,  I  felt  almost 
like  a  man  who  sees  a  dignified  person  knocked  down 
and  trampled  on. 

I  might,  however,  have  early  seen  the  seeds  of 
decay  beneath  this  fair  exterior.  The  private  soldiers 
I  spoke  to  told  me  about  an  advance  that  was  to  take 
place  that  night  on  the  left  flank.  Unaware  of  the 
true  state  of  affairs,  they  thought  that  the  Russians 
were  taking  the  initiative,  but  they  spoke  of  the  matter 
without  enthusiasm.  They  were  melancholy  and 
dispirited  in  this  strange  disagreeable  land,  which  they 
did  not  want  in  the  least  to  fight  for.  "  I'm  getting 
thirty-five  kopecks  a  month,"  said  one  unwashed, 
melancholy  young  man.     "  I  don't  mind  getting  killed, 


226  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 


but  if  I  lose  a  leg  or  arm  I  cannot  work  afterward, 
and  I  shall  only  get  a  pension  of  three  roubles  a 
month  for  the  rest  of  my  life." 

Nearly  all  the  soldiers  I  came  across  in  Meturan 
were  depressed,  sad-toned  men,  who  frequently  sighed 
as  if  they  were  suffering  from  some  fatal  internal 
malady.  Even  the  songs  that  I  heard  the  orderlies 
crooning  to  themselves  were  very  mournful.  One  of 
the  saddest  of  them,  which  described  a  conscript's 
leave-taking  of  his  home,  made  me  think,  by  way  of 
contrast,  of  the  gay  processions  I  had  often  seen  escort 
Japanese  conscripts  to  barracks.  An  oldish-looking 
man,  who  looked  after  my  horse,  astonished  me  by 
saying  that  he  was  only  thirty-five  years  of  age.  He 
was  a  reservist,  and  wanted  to  go  home.  They  all 
wanted  to  go  home.  Among  the  few  who  were 
cheerful  was  a  little  lark  of  a  fellow  who  had  been  a 
waiter  in  an  hotel  at  Nijni  Novgorod.  He  once 
whispered  to  me  in  a  very  confidential  manner  the 
news  that  he  belonged  to  some  very  heterodox  sect,  of 
which  I  have  forgotten  the  name.  Another,  a  boy  of 
seventeen  or  eighteen,  with  the  gentle  manner  and  the 
smooth  face  of  a  girl,  told  me  that  he  was  a  Pole  and 
a  Roman  Catholic,  and  that  there  were  two  Roman 
Catholic  priests  in  the  whole  Russian  army. 

After  telling  me  a  tale  of  woe  that  made  me  feel 
quite  sad,  one  of  the  melancholy  men  said  to  me  :  "  I 
suppose,  sir,  your  lot  here  is  also  very  hard."  He 
looked  surprised  and  incredulous  when  I  told  him  that 
I  could  go  home  whenever  I  liked,  and  that  to  be  sent 
home  in  a  luxurious  train,  via  St.  Petersburg,  was  one 
of  the  direst  threats  held  over  the  heads  of  the  cor- 
respondents by  the  censor  at  Mukden. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  MUKDEN  227 

I  must  say  that  I  honestly  tried  to  cheer  up  that 
young  man,  and  to  make  him  see  the  romance  of  war, 
but  I  did  not  succeed.  On  the  contrary,  he  succeeded 
in  making  me  very  doubtful  of  the  Russian  chances  of 
success  in  the  battle  which  had  just  begun  ;  for  I  now 
remembered  that  the  Cossacks,  and  every  other  branch 
of  the  army,  were  just  as  homesick  and  discouraged. 
Many  of  the  officers  had  no  better  name  for  their 
generals  than  "prokhvost,"  while  in  medical  circles 
the  freedom  and  latitude  of  the  criticisms  indulged  in 
shocked  me — me,  whom  a  year's  stay  in  the  army  had 
led  to  regard  a  general  as  something  peculiarly  sacred. 
On  one  occasion,  I  remember,  I  was  lamenting,  in 
very  guarded  language,  the  comparative  inefficiency  of 
the  Cossacks  during  the  present  campaign,  whereupon 
a  doctor  remarked,  with  a  dryness  of  manner  that 
would  do  credit  to  a  Scotchman  :  "  The  Cossacks  are 
only  good  in  the  streets  of  St.  Petersburg." 

The  officers  seemed  to  be  almost  as  dispirited  as 
the  men.  I  found  one  of  them  reading  a  most  gloomy 
religious  book  on  "  How  to  Prepare  for  Death,"  and 
another  deep  in  the  perusal  of  that  unhinged  genius 
Dostoievski.  A  third  officer  was  reading  Nek- 
rassov,  whose  funereal  verses  are  the  best  antidote 
to  martial  enthusiasm  that  can  be  found  in  the  whole 
range  of  Russian  literature. 

Meanwhile  Kuroki  and  Kawamura  were  rolling 
back  the  Russian  left  with  such  rapidity  and  violence 
that  General  Kuropatkin  could  be  excused  for  believ- 
ing that  the  principal  Japanese  attack  was  to  come 
from  that  quarter. 


CHAPTER  IX 

MARCH  1  AND  MARCH  2 

On  March  i  I  rode  out  with  General  Tserpitsky  to 
his  "positions."  The  scene  was  not  one  that  would 
look  well  in  a  photograph.  If  a  landscape  painter 
were  to  paint  it,  people  would  think  that  his  intention 
was  to  picture  immensity,  not  to  represent  a  battle- 
field. There  were  bright  sunlight  and  warm  spring 
weather,  but  it  was  not  so  warm  that  one  could  dis- 
pense with  an  overcoat  while  riding.  There  as  no 
sign  of  life  save  a  distant  scattered  line  of  soldiers 
advancing  over  the  vast  expanse.  The  silence  and 
the  great  distances  suggested  to  me,  somehow  or 
other,  Sunday,  the  great  sea,  eternity.  The  shrapnel 
was  bursting  far  away  to  the  right,  where  Miloff  was 
losing  village  after  village,  and  falling  back  step  after 
step  and  verst  after  verst  before  the  terrible  men  who 
had  taken  Port  Arthur.  Against  old  Tserpitsky,  how- 
ever, with  his  twenty-four  batteries  of  field-pieces  and 
four  batteries  of  heavy  guns,  Oku  did  nothing,  and  I 
went  home  that  night  thinking  that  the  Japanese  had 
put  their  hand  to  a  work  they  could  not  carry  through. 
My  home  was  in  the  very  exiguous  Chinese  house  of 
a  Red  Cross  doctor,  and,  just  before  we  turned  in,  the 
doctor  received  orders  to  hold  himself  in  readiness  at 
four  o'clock  next  morning  to  accompany  two  divisions 


MARCH  1  AND  MARCH  2  229 

which  were  to  leave  for  Tsinmintun,  which  a  large 
force  of  Japanese  had,  it  was  reported,  seized.  This 
news  cast  a  gloom  over  all  of  us  ;  for,  if  the  Japanese 
had  a  large  force  on  the  west  of  the  Liao,  they  might 
easily  succeed  in  turning  our  right  flank  and  in  cutting 
the  railway  in  our  rear. 

We  lit  our  cigars  and  went  out  into  the  night  to 
discuss  this  new  development  of  the  situation.  The 
stars  were  clouded,  the  earth  was  dark,  but,  far  away 
on  the  edge  of  the  plain,  search-lights  were  swinging 
their  long  arms  backwards  and  forwards,  unweariedly, 
in  an  acute  angle,  and,  despite  the  darkness,  shells 
were  still  bursting.  Occasionally  the  heavy  boom  of 
a  single  cannon,  followed  at  a  short  interval  by  its 
echo,  reached  our  ears.  Later  on  there  came  from 
the  south-west  a  continuous  crackling  rifle-fire,  which 
lasted,  with  few  interruptions,  all  night.  We  after- 
wards learned  that  this  rifle-fire  marked  several 
unsuccessful  but  desperate  night  attacks  which  the 
Japanese  had  essayed  against  Wangkiawopeng  and 
Likiawopeng,  and  one  unsuccessful  counter-attack 
made  by  the  Russians. 

When  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  my  kind  host, 
Dr.  Pusep,  had  vanished,  and  with  him  all  his  assist- 
ants and  furniture.  There  remained  to  me,  however, 
a  small  but  very  valuable  friend  in  the  person  of 
Andrew  Mikhailovitch  RikachefT,  the  correspondent 
of  the  St.  Petersburg  paper  Nasha  Jeezn.  Andrew 
occupied  a  somewhat  anomalous  position  in  the 
Russian  camp,  for  his  paper,  which  had  been  impru- 
dent enough  to  declare  that  the  war  should  be  brought 
to  an  end,  had  been  suspended  for  three  months,  so 
that  he  did  not  quite  know  whether  to  regard  himself 


230  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

as  a  correspondent  or  not.  In  spite  of  this  discou- 
ragement, however,  he  worked  with  extraordinary 
zeal,  while  his  patriotism  and  singular  fearlessness 
endeared  him  to  the  soldiers. 

As  soon  as  we  had  succeeded  in  getting  a  cup  of  tea, 
Andrew  Mikhai'lovitch  and  I  rode  out  to  Davanganpu, 
the  terminus  of  the  branch  railway.  It  was  filled  with 
wounded  and  with  dusty,  broken,  and  dispirited  troops, 
who  freely  confessed — in  Russian — that  they  had 
retreated  because  they  could  not  keep  back  the 
Japanese.  According  to  one  soldier,  the  enemy  kept 
coming  on,  coming  on,  like  ants,  four  or  five  times  in 
succession.  At  last  the  officer  said,  "Children,  we 
cannot  stay  here  any  longer.     We  must  go  back." 

The  Decauxville  railway  that  ran  south-west  from 
Davanganpu  was  overtaxed  owing  to  the  multitudes  of 
wounded.  In  one  hospital  alone,  a  hospital  which 
normally  could  only  accommodate  a  few  hundred  men, 
there  were  more  than  a  thousand  patients. 

We  then  rode  over  to  Meturan,  the  headquarters 
of  General  Kaulbars.  Here  we  found  everything 
packed  up,  and  everybody  ready  to  move.  Rikacheff 
and  I  got  transferred  to  the  8th  Corps,  as  that  corps 
seemed  to  have  most  of  the  fun,  but  the  trouble  was 
where  to  find  its  headquarters.  There  was  no  diffi- 
culty, however,  about  locating  the  Japs,  for  their  shells 
were  bursting  in  showers  at  Dzeurpo,  a  few  miles  to 
the  west.  At  last,  by  dint  of  diligent  questioning,  we 
got  the  name  of  the  village  in  which  Miloff  would 
probably  be  found,  and  galloped  towards  it,  passing, 
on  the  way,  great  bodies  of  troops  slowly  advancing 
in  loose  formation.  We  found  the  village  all  right, 
but  we  did  not  find  Miloff,  for  he  had  gone  away  some 


MARCH  1  AND  MARCH  2  231 

hours  before,  no  one  knew  in  what  direction.  The 
village  looked  like  the  Roman  catacombs,  for  most 
of  it  was  underground,  and  its  underground  houses — 
I  mean  of  course  the  Russian  trenches  and  dug-outs — 
were  all  deserted,  as  were  also,  indeed,  its  overground 
houses,  in  some  of  which  large  quantities  of  stores 
seemed  to  have  been  left  behind.  A  regiment,  the 
Volinsky  regiment,  lined  the  walls  and  houses  at  the 
back  of  this  village,  which  the  Russians  called  Tow- 
taidze,  but  the  place  was  not  under  fire.  In  fact  the 
Japanese  shells  were  bursting  a  few  versts  in  front  of 
us,  on  a  fringe  of  trees  which  marked  the  horizon  of 
the  usual  naked  plain.  Just  in  front  of  this  ultimate 
fringe  we  saw  the  Russian  firing  line.  Some  of  the 
men  who  composed  it  were  lying  down,  some  were 
advancing  by  short  rushes,  some  were  getting  jammed 
behind  hillocks,  farmhouses,  the  river  bank,  some 
were  swinging  with  great  caution  to  the  right  or  to 
the  left.  While  we  were  watching  this  scene,  a  score 
of  soldiers  were  busy  plundering  the  stores  which  had 
been  left  behind  in  Towtaidze  by  the  staff,  and  which 
comprised  many  different  kinds  of  provisions.  In 
doing  so  they  exposed  themselves  freely,  but  where 
was  the  harm  in  that  ?  The  Japanese  were  not  firing 
at  them — probably  could  not  fire  on  account  of  the 
range.  The  sky  was  clear,  but  the  atmosphere  was 
ominous  and  threatening,  as  if  a  thunderstorm  were 
about  to  burst. 

Suddenly,  like  the  first  big  drops  of  rain  heralding 
a  tropical  downpour,  a  few  shimose  shells  dropped 
casually  in  different  parts  of  the  village.  At  this  time 
Rikacheff  and  I  were  following  the  colonel  of  the 
Volinsky  regiment  to  a  place  further  back,  where  there 


232  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

were  some  officers  that  he  wanted  to  introduce  us  to. 
Before  we  had  gone  many  steps,  however,  hell  was  let 
loose  around  us.  Common  shell  tore  up  the  ground. 
Showers  of  shrapnel  bullets  hopped  on  the  road  like 
hailstones.  One  projectile  burst  less  than  six  feet  in 
front  of  the  colonel,  who  was  leading  the  way,  covering 
us  all  with  dirt  and  clay.  Our  ears  were  filled  with  ex- 
plosions like  claps  of  thunder.  The  rear  of  the  village 
was,  if  anything,  more  dangerous  than  the  front.  A 
big  trench  that  ran  behind  the  usual  mud  wall  was 
filled  with  anxious-faced  soldiers.  The  ground  behind 
them  was  strewn  so  thick  with  shrapnel  that  I  soon 
filled  my  pockets  with  these  sinister  curios. 

The  Volinsky  colonel  impressed  me  as  one  of  the 
best  soldiers  I  had  ever  met,  simple,  suspicious,  calm, 
brave,  uncommunicative.  "  We've  got  to  hold  this 
village  to-day,  and  we'll  hold  it,"  he  said.  At  any 
other  time  I  would  have  thought  that  he  was  boast- 
ing, but  not  at  such  a  time  as  this.  He  explained  to 
me  that  the  Russian  line  north  of  Sandypu  and  south 
of  Changtang  had  fallen  back,  but  that  two  divisions 
of  Russians  had  gone  to  turn  the  Japanese  left  flank. 

The  scene  in  Towtaidze  at  this  moment  is  deeply 
engraved  on  my  memory.  The  colonel  is  drawing  a 
map  in  the  ground  with  the  end  of  his  scabbard,  and 
is  talking,  although  the  appalling  visitations  of  shimose 
prevent  me  occasionally  from  catching  what  he  says. 
Projectiles  throw  up  dun  clouds  of  earth.  Shells  burst 
among  us  with  reverberating  roar.  It  is  an  inferno. 
Two  dead  men  are  lying  on  the  roadside  and  two 
living  men  are  working  hard  to  scoop  out  a  grave  for 
them  in  that  frozen  ground.  There  is  a  wild,  frankly 
frightened  look  in  the  eyes  of  the  soldiers  who  are 


MARCH  1  AND  MARCH  2  233 

hidden  in  the  trenches.  The  sky  is  overcast.  The 
officers  are  remarkably  affable,  but  nobody  cares  to 
look  any  one  else  straight  in  the  eye  lest  his  secret  be 
revealed,  lest  it  be  found  that  his  own  eye  is  rolling 
unsteadily  in  its  socket,  that  his  cheeks  are  flushed  and 
that  his  manner  is  slightly  unstable  and  exaggerated. 
Our  horses  are  feeding  peaceably,  as  if  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  war.  On  such  occasions  one  can  always 
get  them  plenty  of  fodder  which  has  been  left  behind 
in  the  confusion.  Things  are  lying  about — typical 
Russian  things.  Here  is  a  long  folded  grey  overcoat 
shaped  like  a  yoke  for  a  horse's  neck,  both  ends  meet- 
ing and  clinched  together  by  means  of  a  very  black 
and  sooty  tin  porringer.  It  was  evidently  intended  to 
be  worn  athwart  the  shoulder.  There  are  also  many 
blood-stained,  nondescript  rags,  sad  reminders  of  the 
wounded.  A  patriarchal  soldier  hobbles  past,  all 
hunched  up  as  if  broken  in  two.  He  is  only  wounded 
in  the  hand.  Another  man  comes,  reverentially  carry- 
ing the  overcoat  belonging  to  the  wounded  man.  A 
third  brings  his  rifle  and  cartridges.  The  colonel  is 
easy  on  these  men.  He  does  not  curse  at  them  and 
send  them  scurrying  back  to  the  front,  as  an  English 
or  American  officer  would  have  done.  He  talks  to 
them  affably  for  several  minutes  and  then  lets  them 
go  on.  Shrapnel  bursts  among  the  trees  on  the 
other  side  of  the  road,  sending  the  sparrows  flying 
with  sharp  chirpings  of  discontent  to  every  point  of 
the  compass  and  making  the  tethered  horses  jump. 
Bullets  kick  up  the  dust  on  the  road.  Evening  is 
coming  on,  and  Rikacheff  and  I  are  anxious  to  know 
where  we  can  find  the  8th  Corps.  We  are  told  that 
their  headquarters  is  at   Davanganpu.      The  leaden 


234  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

storm  of  shrapnel  and  shimose  continues.  I  often 
discover  myself  muttering,  "  What  terrible  fellows 
these  Japs  are  !  What  superhuman  perseverance ! 
What  incredible  bravery  !  How  little  did  I  think 
that  the  awkward,  smooth-faced  lads  in  uniform 
whom  I  used  so  often  to  meet  walking  hand-in 
hand  in  Uyeno  Park  like  Dresden  shepherdesses, 
would  prove  to  be  such  demons  for  warfare  !  What 
can  we,  any  of  us — Englishmen,  Germans,  French- 
men, Russians — what  can  any  of  us  do  against  a  race 
which  fears  no  more  the  supreme  dolour  of  death 
than  we  fear  a  shower  of  rain  ?  And  these,  if  you 
please,  are  a  people  ■  ayant  une  nature  d  oiseau  ou  de 
papillon,  plutot  que  d'hommes  ordinaires.'  "  Amidst 
the  obstinate,  incessant,  exasperating  uproar  the 
words  of  that  silly  Frenchman  ring  in  my  ears  like  the 
mocking  laughter  of  a  fiend. 

Meanwhile  the  distant  boom  of  the  valiant  Tser- 
pitsky's  four-and-twenty  batteries  added  to  the  nearer 
roar  of  Miloff  s  great  guns  and  of  the  Japanese  cannon, 
the  unceasing  crackle  of  infantry  fire,  the  continuous 
rattle,  rattle,  rattle  of  the  machine  guns.  At  some 
point  in  front — I  am  afraid  to  raise  my  head  to  see 
where — some  vital  issue  is  in  arbitrament,  some  point 
of  ultimate  importance  is  being  discussed.  Towards 
that  point  the  troops  are  now  rushing  like  water  above 
a  cataract.  I  quickly  raise  my  head  and  glance  in  the 
direction  in  which  they  are  going.  What  a  scene  ! 
The  fighting  line  is  marked  by  a  pall  of  shrapnel 
smoke  and  dust,  hanging  in  mid  air  like  the  mists  of 
Niagara.  The  Japanese  are  coming  on  like  the 
whirlwind  from  out  of  the  North  which  Ezekiel  saw 
in  his  terrible  vision. 


MARCH  1  AND  MARCH  2  235 

A  colonel  of  the  1st  Rifles  (European)  rides  up  to 
our  little  group.  He  is  a  stout,  tired,  flabby  man,  the 
ghastly  pallor  of  whose  face  is  rather  heightened  than 
otherwise  by  a  thick  coating  of  dust.  He  speaks 
French,  has  had  severe  contusion,  sits  down  heavily 
near  us  on  the  roadside.  The  talk  runs  on  contusions 
until  something  shrieks  past  and  bursts  with  a  bang 
somewhere  close  by  but  out  of  sight.  Then  the 
Volinsky  colonel  observes  cheerfully  that  you  never 
hear  the  whizz  of  the  shell  that  kills  you.  As  if  to 
contradict  his  theory,  a  shell  whose  augmenting  whizz 
we  had  been  listening  to  not  without  anxiety  for  a 
second  or  two,  bursts  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood. 
It  does  no  damage  to  anything  except  to  the  colonel's 
theory,  for  it  might  just  as  well  have  alighted  on  top 
of  us.  And  here,  let  me  remark,  parenthetically,  that 
there  is  something  peculiarly  angry,  vicious,  abrupt, 
vehement  and  impolite  about  a  shell  that  bursts  close 
to  you.  It  annoys  and  displeases.  If  it  were  human 
you  would  cut  it  dead  ever  after  for  giving  you  such  a 
devil  of  a  start.  The  angry  bark  of  an  unexpected 
dog  within  a  few  feet  of  your  calves  is  like  a  maidens 
sigh  in  comparison. 

Rikacheff  tries,  in  his  ingenuous  way,  to  get  some 
information  about  the  troops,  but  the  colonel  is  very 
cautious  and  reticent.  The  conversation  flags,  and  we 
turn  our  attention  to  the  landscape.  It  is  the  same 
brown  bare  country,  with  the  same  long  melancholy 
lines  of  men  advancing  over  it.  Sometimes  they  run. 
Dozens  of  little  fleecy  clouds  of  shrapnel  hang  over 
the  distant  villages. 

Suddenly  a  small  excited  man  rides  towards  us. 
When  he  dismounts,  we  see  that  he  is  a  lieutenant,  a 


236  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

plump  man  on  the  shady  side  of  thirty,  with  a  weak, 
babyish  face,  and  round  protruding  eyes.  His  clothes 
are  very  good,  his  trousers  fit  tightly  on  plump  legs, 
he  is  provided  with  brandy-flask,  binoculars,  compass, 
all  complete.  He  is  also  in  a  state  of  awful,  undis- 
guised "funk."  Terror  is  writ  large  on  his  face,  and 
in.  every  movement  of  his  body.  His  unfortunate  con- 
dition is  in  great  contrast  to  his  warlike  and  fashion- 
able equipment.  He  points  to  little  clouds  of  shrapnel 
north  and  north-east. 

"  They're  getting  round  us,"  he  blubbers,  his  fat 
face  working  like  the  face  of  a  baby  that  is  going  to 
cry,  "and  the  Cossacks  tell  me  they  have  gone  along 
the  west  bank  of  the  Hun  and  are  now  near  Mukden." 

The  Volinsky  colonel  is  very  reasonable  and  calm. 
It  seems  so  odd  to  find  him  so,  for  one  generally 
associates  personal  uncleanness  and  disorder  with 
drink  and  incoherence. 

"  Impossible  !  "  he  says.  "  I  know  the  exact  posi- 
tion. ..."  (I  could  only  catch  fragments  of  the 
conversation  ;  the  Volinsky  colonel  is  very  cautious). 
"The  ioth  Corps  and  16th  Corps  are  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Hun  River  south  of  Sifontai.  .  .  .  Japanese 
will  be  caught  between  two  fires  .  .  .  heard  to-day 
seven  attacks  Baitapu  .  .  .  three  days  fight  .  .  .  de- 
monstration left,  right,  centre,  but  real  attack  from 
direction  of  Tsinmintun  .  .  .  yes,  Kaulbars  has  got 
command  of  the  army  between  Tsinmintun  and 
Mukden.  The  Japs  wanted  to  cut  the  Mukden- 
Tsinmintun  road.  Rifles  ?  General  Staff  sent  the 
Rifles  to  strengthen  the  centre  .  .  .  the  17th  and 
19th  Rifles  are  with  Kaulbars.  .  .  .  What?  Over 
there  ?     Yes,  the  14th  Division  is  over  there  on  the 


MARCH  1  AND  MARCH  2  237 

west  bank  of  the  Hun,  the  15th  is  on  this  side.  Yes, 
Jentan  was  taken  this  morning,  but  we're  going  to 
retake  it  to-night."  * 

A  very  calm  courteous  young  officer  rides  up,  dis- 
mounts,   salutes — bad    story    to    tell — "  Japs    awfully 
close,  sir."     Projectile  whizzes  viciously  overhead,  but 
young  officer  remains  quite  unmoved,  his  hand  still  to 
the  salute.     Colonel  says  things  cannot  be  quite  so 
bad.     Still,    to    my    unpractised    eye,    the  outlook    is 
black    enough.     A    circle    of  fire,   a  thunder-striking 
girdle  of  artillery  seems  to  be  slowly  closing  in  around 
us.     A    ring  of  shrapnel   looking   clearer   and  more 
dreadful    in    the   gathering   night   is   bursting   round 
ninety  degrees  of  a  circle  ;  the  little  gap,   the  tenth 
degree,  may  be  closed  at  any  moment.     If  I  were  in 
command  of  the  Volinsky  regiment  I  am  afraid  that  I 
would  lose  no  time  in  making  a  bee-line  for  that  gap. 
A  young  Polish  officer,  who  has  been  looking  at  this 
awful  scene  for  some  time,  quotes  some  of  Mickiewicz's 
terrible    verses   describing    Napoleon's    advance    into 
Russia,    and    immediately   after   gets   into   a  violent 
argument  with  the  Volinsky  colonel.     Rikacheff  and 
I  make  another  effort  to  get  news  of  staffs  and  armies, 
but  the  colonel  leaves  us  absolutely  in  the  dark.     He 
is  kind   enough,  however,  to  remark  that  if  we  don't 
like  to  go  away,  we  may  remain  with  him  in  Towtaidze 
for  the  night.     It   is  like  an  invitation  to  remain  on 
the  top  storey  of  a  burning  house.     All   indications 
point  to  the  likelihood  of  the   Japanese  making  five 
or  six  bayonet  attacks  on  Towtaidze  under  cover  of 
the    darkness,    so    we    hastily    excuse  ourselves   and 

*  This  is  not  an  imaginary  conversation. 


238  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

mount  our  horses,  which,  having  fed,  are  now  standing 
sleepily  by,  with  sad,  pendulous  under-lips  which  occa- 
sionally move  as  if  in  prayer.  The  colonel  gives  each 
of  us  a  feeling  handshake,  and  says  that  we  both 
deserve  a  St.  George,  but  he  refuses  to  give  us  the 
password.  "You  may  be  challenged  by  Japanese, 
and  give  it  to  them  involuntarily,"  he  argues,  "  and, 
anyhow,  you  don't  need  it.  If  our  people  arrest  you, 
they'll  bring  you  direct  to  the  staff,  and  isn't  that 
exactly  where  you  want  to  go  ?  ? 

Thus  we  parted  with  this  brave,  unsympathetic 
man,  and  lucky  it  was  for  us  that  we  did  so,  for, 
perhaps,  on  that  very  night  the  terrible  circle  of  steel 
and  fire  closed  in  around  Towtaidze.  I  cannot  say  for 
certain,  however  ;  for  in  those  troubled  days  it  was  as 
hard  for  me  to  get  any  information  of  what  was 
happening  at  a  distance  as  it  would  be  to  get  news 
about  friends  in  England  in  case  primeval  chaos  had 
returned  to  earth  and  upset  all  the  postal  arrangements 
of  the  nations. 

Just  then,  however,  we  are  too  much  concerned 
about  ourselves  to  mourn  for  the  doom  impending 
over  this  shell-battered  hamlet.  We  hurry  off  like 
men  pursued  by  a  tidal  wave.  On  right  of  us,  on 
left  of  us  we  hear  the  roar  of  the  Japanese  advance 
grow  louder  and  louder.  It  is  like  the  deep  rumbling 
of  a  sea  that  has  burst  its  bounds.  High  above  the 
plain  on  right  of  us,  on  left  of  us,  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach,  are  long  lines  of  fleecy  shrapnel  cloudlets,  the 
foam  and  the  spray  of  that  on-rushing  ocean.  Two 
projectiles  burst  with  an  appalling  crash  right  in  front 
of  us.  We  go  forth,  feeling  like  men  going  out  on  a 
torpedo-boat  which  stands  a  thousand  chances  to  one 


MARCH  1  AND  MARCH  2  239 

of  being  sunk.  It  is  a  beautiful  evening  ;  the  sky  is 
lovely  ;  I  count  six  villages  burning  on  the  horizon. 
Miltonic  images  arise  in  my  mind  as  I  contemplate 
this  terrific  battle-field.  Can  the  pen  of  poet,  can  the 
brush  of  painter  ever  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  the 
horror  of  such  a  night  as  this  ?     Never  !     Never  ! 

I  have  not  the  least  notion  where  we  are  heading  for. 
I  soon  became  aware,  however,  that  we  are  in  a  hot 
place,  for  the  whizz  of  the  bullets  is  unceasing ;  and 
ominous,  unseen  things  strike  the  ground  in  several 
places  close  to  us,  raising  little  puffs  of  dust.  Shells 
hurtle  overhead  with  long  shrieks.  The  r-r-r-rip, 
r-r-r-rip,  r-r-r-rip  of  the  musketry  is  getting  louder. 
The  furnace  roar  of  the  battle  now  becomes  deafening, 
We  are  going  the  wrong  way  !  We  are  approaching 
the  enemy  !  Panic-stricken,  I  persuade  my  com- 
panion to  come  back.  Back  !  Whither  ?  To  Tow- 
taidze  ?  Impossible  !  Towtaidze  is  nought  now  but 
one  of  half  a  score  of  burning  villages,  which  flame 
like  red  torches  in  the  immense  black  night  above 
innumerable  multitudes  of  men  trampling  by.  Even  if 
it  still  exists  it  will  be  impossible  to  find  it.  Whipped 
by  the  mad  wind  of  panic,  we  gallop — I  don't  know 
in  what  direction.  At  last  we  meet  several  military 
waggons  advancing,  and  join  ourselves  on  to  them. 
The  drivers  of  these  waggons  are  visibly  perspiring. 
Vapour  rises  from  their  faces  like  steam,  and  they  are 
crossing  themselves  briskly  with  large,  unsteady  hands. 
We  notice  that  one  of  the  flaming  villages  is  Meturan, 
the  former  headquarters  of  Kaulbars.  Alone  and 
unprovided  with  the  password,  there  is  a  great  chance 
of  our  being  taken  for  Japanese.  But  what  infor- 
mation could  a  Japanese  §cout  get  on  such  a  night  ? 


240  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

He  would  lose  the  points  of  the  compass.  He  would 
only  run  up  in  the  darkness  against  large  bodies  of 
men  standing  he  knew  not  where  or  marching  he 
knew  not  whither.  Of  what  use  would  such  infor- 
mation be  to  him  unless  perchance  he  had,  combined 
in  his  single  person,  the  technical  knowledge  of  a 
Moltke,  the  coolness  of  a  Wellington,  the  bravery  of 
a  SkobelefT,  and  the  topographical  certainty  of  a  local 
Chinese  peasant? 

The  night  has  come  suddenly,  but  the  darkness  is 
rendered  more  confusing  by  reason  of  the  tremendous 
glare  from  the  burning  villages — vast  sacrificial  fires 
roaring  up  from  gigantic  altars  to  bloodthirsty,  pagan 
gods.  There  is  a  red  glow  in  the  sky  overhead. 
Sharp,  continuous  explosions,  sounding  like  rifle-shots, 
proceed  from  the  burning  houses,  but  whether  these 
explosions  are  due  to  ammunition  left  behind  or  to  the 
crackling  and  falling  of  the  wooden  beams,  I  cannot 
say.  During  lulls  in  this  storm  of  noise  there  comes 
to  us  a  faint  ripple  of  sound  like  the  washing  of  the 
waves  on  a  shingly  beach.  It  comes  from  away 
beyond  Shahepu  and  the  railway,  where  the  stern 
Nodzu  is  vainly  hurling  his  brave  Kumamoto  men 
against  the  bristling  rifles  of  the  Putiloff  Asobke. 
Vainly,  O  children  of  Kato  Kiyamasu  !  Spartans  of 
Japan !  throwing  yourselves  with  a  very  fury  of 
courage  on  that  fatal  hillside  ?  No  !  not  vainly  !  You 
were  never  meant  to  take  that  hill.  Man  born  of 
woman  could  not  take  it  by  frontal  assault.  You  were 
merely  meant  to  die  there  by  thousands  until  trench 
and  fosse  and  trou-de-loup  were  choked  with  your  dead, 
until  the  Russian  soldiers  saw  with  horror  the  living 
carrying  forward  the  frozen  corpses  of  the  fallen  in 


MARCH  1  AND  MARCH  2  241 

order  to  use  them  as  a  screen  against  that  hail  of 
bullets.  You  were  merely  meant  to  do  all  this  so  that 
the  enemy  would  get  the  impression  that  the  Japanese 
centre  was  overwhelmingly  strong,  and  that  it  could 
not  be  cut.  That  centre  was  composed  of  two  frail 
divisions ! 

At  Chukwanpo  on  the  east,  and  at  Wanghsiutai  on 
the  west,  the  Japanese  are  making  the  last  desperate 
bayonet  charge  which  won  them  those  places.  At 
Changtien,  some  miles  to  the  north  of  the  river,  five 
battalions  of  Russian  infantry  are  madly,  bravely, 
vainly,  rushing  on  the  veterans  of  Nogi. 

For  Rikacheffand  me  things  begin  to  look  serious,  in 
fact  they  have  been  looking  serious  for  some  time  past. 
There  is  firing  going  on  north,  south,  east,  and  west, 
and  we  do  not  know  where  is  friend  and  where  is  foe. 
The  Russians  with  whom  we  are  travelling  are  as 
puzzled  as  we.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  had  thought 
we  knew  the  way,  and  had  been  following  us.  At  last, 
emerging  from  a  swirl  of  smoke,  we  come  suddenly  on 
a  big  body  of  men,  tense,  waiting,  with  weapons 
levelled  at  us.  It  is  like  coming  face  to  face  with  a 
tiger  prepared  to  spring.  As  they  prove,  however,  to 
be  Russians,  Rikacheff  rides  up  to  an  officer  and 
questions  him  with  engaging  and  child-like  frankness 
about  things  that  should  only  be  spoken  of  in  a 
whisper  at  secret  councils  of  war.  And,  wonderful  to 
relate,  he  is  answered.  The  answers  come  slowly 
and  sullenly,  however,  like  drops  out  of  a  withered 
orange.  Then  there  is  a  pause,  and  the  officer  says, 
contemplatively  half  to  himself,  "  Many  Japanese 
spies  around  here.  One  cannot  be  too  careful.  One 
of  them  came  here  the  other  day,  representing  himself 

Q 


242  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

to  be  from  the  General  Staff  and  speaking  Russian 
perfectly." 

Rikacheff  laughs  and  says,  "  Well,  if  you're  afraid 
that  we  are  spies,  we'll  go  along  with  you  to  the  General 
Staff  and  we  shall  show  you  our  papers." 

But  the  officer,  who  is  very  young  and  simple- 
minded,  will  not  hear  of  this. 

"  No,  no,"  he  hastily  returns.  "  I  don't  mean  you. 
But  just  now,  just  this  very  moment,  a  soldier  came  up 
to  me  and  said  :  '  Vashe  Blagarodie,'  says  he, '  perhaps 
these  are  not  Russians.'  " 

And  sure  enough,  I  had  noticed  one  or  two  soldiers 
peering  in  the  darkness  at  my  face  and  strange  saddle. 
My  silence  and  Rikacheff's  very  small  size  are  both 
sufficient  to  excite  their  suspicions. 

Finally,  we  come  to  Miloff  s  headquarters,  a  pillaged 
cabin  in  a  half-burned  village.  The  place  is  cold,  un- 
comfortable, upside-down,  and  filled  with  high  officers 
in  furs  and  spurs,  discussing  things  in  a  heated  manner 
over  maps,  by  the  light  of  one  dim  candle.  Miloff 
receives  us  in  a  kindly  but  distracted  manner,  but  says 
that  as  there  is  no  accommodation,  and  as  he  is  leaving 
in  a  few  minutes  himself,  he  will  send  us  on  to 
Davangangpu  with  his  adjutant,  who  is  leaving 
directly.  I  wait  for  almost  three  hours  listening  to 
a  discussion  that  I  cannot  understand,  and  trying  tc 
read  fragments  of  the  Novoe  Vremya  which  are 
pasted  over  cracks  in  the  walls  and  holes  in  the 
windows,  and  which,  taken  in  connection  with  other 
signs,  indicate  that  the  place  has  at  one  time  been  the 
snug  quarters  of  some  officers. 

Finally,  the  adjutant,  a  young,  handsome,  voluble 
man,  tells    us    he  is    ready  to   start.     When  we    go 


MARCH  1  AND  MARCH  2  243 

out  into  the  courtyard  we  find  that  it  has  been 
snowing,  and  that  our  horses  and  saddles  are  all 
white  and  fleecy.  It  can  easily  be  seen,  however, 
that  the  fierce  cold  which  marked  the  first  battle  of 
Sandypu  has  passed.  Lucky  as  ever,  the  Japanese 
have  begun  the  battle  at  the  right  moment.  A  week 
earlier  it  would  have  been  too  cold ;  a  week  later 
the  ice  on  the  rivers  would  have  been  too  thin  to  bear 
artillery.  Alas !  The  stars  in  their  courses  have 
fought  against  us  ! 

A  few  days  before,  I  saw  Davangangpu  for  the  first 
time,  and  was  powerfully  impressed  by  the  aspect  of 
the  place.  It  was  like  a  busy  railway  terminus  in 
Western  America.  A  dozen  sidings  were  filled  with 
trains.  Veritable  mountains  of  provisions  were  piled 
along  the  railway  and  guarded  by  soldiers.  Close  by 
was  a  long  row  of  hospital  tents,  whose  inner  shell  was 
made  of  earth,  and  from  the  gables  of  which  smoking 
stove-pipes  projected.  A  dozen  enormous  siege-guns 
lay  alongside  the  tents,  and  imparted  an  air  of  finality 
to  the  scene. 

Davangangpu  now  wears  a  different  appearance. 
The  tents,  guns,  and  railway  trains  are  gone,  and  the 
mountains  of  provisions  are  going — going  up  in  flames 
and  smoke.  The  whole  place  is  lit  up  by  a  furnace 
glare.  The  windows  vomit  great  red  flames.  It  is 
like  the  mouth  of  the  Great  Pit.  In  the  lurid  glare 
there  rushes  past  a  frightened  flood  of  men,  horses  and 
cannon.  There  remains,  however,  one  good  house, 
the  house  set  apart  for  the  use  of  General  Miloff's 
staff.  In  this  house  I  am  asked  to  eat  and  to  sleep, 
for  death  and  defeat  have  failed  to  make  the  Russian 
officers  forget  their  traditional  hospitality.     I  lie  down 


244  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

in  my  boots,  after  midnight,  and  am  lulled  to  sleep  by 
the  tremendous  roar  of  the  flames,  which  sound  as  if  it 
were  London  that  was  burning,  and  am  awakened  at 
3.30  a.m.,  though  we  do  not  leave  the  village  till  day- 
break. I  put  in  the  interval  looking  after  my  horse,  for 
which  I  had  previously  been  unable  to  get  a  handful 
of  oats  for  love  or  money,  but  which  I  am  now  in  a 
position  to  present  gratis  with  whole  bags  of  corn — 
bags  snatched  from  the  burning.  The  great  con- 
flagration is  still  going  on  within  a  few  hundred  yards 
of  me ;  and  I  now  discern,  as  the  light  of  dawn  slowly 
filters  through  the  eastern  clouds,  that  what  I  at  first 
took  to  be  a  low  crenellated  wall  standing  between 
me  and  the  flames,  is  in  reality  an  enormous  swarm  of 
humanity,  the  innumerable  hosts  of  the  Tsar,  warming 
themselves,  countless  as  a  hive  of  ants,  in  front  of  the 
fire,  against  whose  genial  but  expensive  glow  their 
heads  show  like  crenellations. 

Two  groups  of  prisoners  are  now  brought  into  our 
courtyard.  One  is  a  group  of  Japanese,  all  of  them 
wounded,  the  slightly  wounded  ones  supporting  the 
badly  wounded  ones  with  fraternal  arms.  The  other 
is  a  group  of  Chinese,  who  are  accused  of  having 
been  caught  signalling  to  the  enemy.  The  two  groups 
are  kept  separate,  are  looked  upon  with  different  eyes, 
will  be  treated  in  a  very  different  fashion.  It  is  now 
nearly  dawn,  but  not  one  of  these  Chinamen  shall 
see  the  sun  rise. 


CHAPTER  X 
A  VAST  VODKA  DEBAUCH 

March  the  3rd  dawned  beautifully.  The  stars  faded 
away.  The  moon,  which  was  the  thinnest  possible 
crescent,  merely  a  geometrical  line,  also  disappeared. 
The  pale  light  of  dawn  was  reflected  from  the  snow, 
which  lightly  covered  the  ground. 

Finally  the  sun  rose,  promising  a  bright  day.  With 
the  rising  of  the  sun  the  retreat  commenced. 

We  pushed  on  towards  Suhudyapu,  along  the  branch 
railway,  forming  three  columns  of  enormous  length. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  I  had  been  living  in 
Suhudyapu,  or  Suhupu,  with  Mishchenko's  Cossacks, 
and  my  feelings  on  returning  to  it  were  like  those  of  a 
man  who  returns  to  his  native  village  after  a  long 
absence.  Suhudyapu  had  been  quiet,  sequestered, 
roomy  ;  now  a  railway  ran  past  it,  and  it  was  dreadfully 
busy,  overcrowded,  and  forgetful  of  me.  General 
Mishchenko's  former  residence  was  choke-full  of 
stores ;  and  the  former  "  Sobranie "  (club)  of  the 
Verkhnyudinsky  Cossacks  had  been  converted  into  a 
Red  Cross  Hospital.  RikacheiT  and  I  managed  to 
discover  a  Greek  store,  in  which  some  tinned  provisions 
still  remained,  and  here  we  made  the  first  decent  meal 
that  we  had  had  for  some  days.  While  we  were 
eating,  a  strange  thing  happened.     I  chanced  to  see  at 


246  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

the  door  a  venerable  Manchu  woman,  with  a  fine  face, 
almost  Roman  in  the  regularity  of  its  outline,  and  with 
a  striking  dignity  of  manner  which  was  sadly  in 
contrast  to  the  dry  leaves  and  pieces  of  straw  which, 
frozen  to  her  dress,  indicated  that  she  had  been  sleeping 
out  in  the  open.  She  was  looking  wistfully  into  the 
house,  and,  anxious  to  air  the  few  words  of  Chinese 
that  I  know,  I  asked  her  what  she  wanted.  She  then 
came  into  the  room,  carrying  a  little  child  in  her  arms 
and  leading  another  by  the  hand,  and,  pointing  with  a 
dramaticgestureto  the  "kang,"  shesaid  inawhimpering 
voice  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes  that  her  children  had 
been  born  there.  It  was  a  striking  way  of  saying  that 
the  house  belonged  taher,  and  the  superstitious  Greek 
became  visibly  uncomfortable.  He  became  still  more 
uncomfortable  a  few  hours  later,  when  a  Japanese 
shell  frightened  him  out  of  that  house  and  almost  out 
of  his  wits. 

At  Suhudyapu  railway  station  I  saw  a  sight  that 
made  a  greater  impression  on  me  than  anything  that 
I  had  witnessed  so  far.  A  large  quantity  of  "  vodka," 
bread,  conserves  and  other  eatables  and  drinkables 
had  been  thrown  to  the  soldiers,  as  it  was  impossible 
to  save  it ;  and,  considering  the  thousands  of  men  there 
were  around  who  had  not  eaten  a  morsel  for  days,  it 
is  easy  to  imagine  what  occurred.  Fierce  currents  of 
humanity  set  in  simultaneously  from  north,  south,  east 
and  west  towards  this  loot.  Many  of  the  men  imme- 
diately carried  away  loads  of  preserves,  most  of  which 
they  would  undoubtedly  have  to  drop  before  they 
had  marched  a  mile.  Nevertheless  they  snapped 
ferociously  at  any  comrade  who  offered  to  relieve 
them  of  a  tin  or  two.     Some  sat  down  on  the  ground 


A  VAST  VODKA  DEBAUCH  247 

and  began  to  cut  open  tins  with  their  swords  and 
bayonets  and  to  devour  the  contents  on  the  spot. 
The  veins  stood  out  like  whipcord  on  their  temples, 
their  eyes  were  bloodshot,  and  the  perspiration 
streamed  down  their  faces  as  they  savagely  attacked 
the  food.  Others  cut  open  more  preserves  than  they 
could  eat  in  a  week.  Their  hunger  seemed  to  be 
appeased  by  the  mere  sight  of  the  food,  and  their 
excitement  was  so  great  that  they  sometimes  cut  their 
fingers  without  noticing  it.  But  the  great  scenes 
raged  around  the  "  vodka"  casks.  The  barrels  had 
been  stabbed  with  bayonets  and  hacked  open  with 
knives,  swords,  and  axes  until  they  bled  from  scores 
of  wounds.  A  frantic  crowd  of  men  struggled  around 
these  openings,  seeking  to  apply  their  mouths  to  them 
or  to  catch  the  precious  liquid  in  cups,  cans,  empty 
sardine  tins,  and  even  in  the  cases  of  the  Japanese 
shells  that  were  falling  conveniently  around.  A  huge 
red-capped  Orenburg  Cossack  jumped  on  one  of  the 
barrels,  wielding  an  axe,  with  which  he  soon  stove  in 
the  head  of  another  barrel  amid  wild  cries  of  drunken 
triumph.  The  sight  of  that  red-capped  Cossack  and 
the  frenzied  crowd  that  surged  around  him  recalled 
ominous  historical  scenes  from  the  pages  of  Carlyle. 

"  This  is  more  dangerous  for  you  than  Towtaidze," 
whispered  Rikacheff,  white  as  a  sheet ;  "  for  God's 
sake  don't  speak  English." 

This  warning  was  necessary,  for  of  late  the  soldiers 
had  developed  a  distinct  tinge  of  Anglophobia.  They 
had  all  got  the  idea  that  the  Japanese  could  not  have 
carried  on  the  war  so  long  had  it  not  been  for  the 
financial  assistance  given  them  by  the  British  and  the 
Americans,  and  this  financial  assistance  they  seemed 


248  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

to  regard    as   a    breach    of  neutrality,   a  casus   belt 
almost. 

A  drunken  infantryman  rolled  unsteadily  towards 
me,  his  beard  and  the  breast  of  his  coat  all  wet  with 
"  vodka,"  and  began  to  speak  volubly  and  unintel- 
ligibly ;  but  Rikacheff,  who  probably  did  not  want  to 
see  my  head  smashed  in  with  the  butt  of  a  rifle,  as 
soon  as  the  soldier  had  discovered  that  he  was  address- 
ing a  Britisher,  edged  in  between  us  and  took  up  the 
tangled  thread  of  the  discourse. 

The  "  vodka"  that  overflowed  from  the  burst 
casks  had  collected  a  foot  deep  in  a  depression  of  the 
ground.  Men  knelt  down  to  drink  the  muddy  liquor. 
Some  scooped  it  up  in  the  hollows  of  their  hands,  as 
you  would  scoop  up  water  from  a  well.  Some  fell 
into  it  bodily.  Many  were  wetted  by  the  jets  of  liquor 
from  the  barrels  squirting  over  them.  Buriat  Cos- 
sacks, Mahommedans  from  the  Caucasus  (forbidden  by 
their  religion  to  touch  drink),  riflemen,  dragoons,  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  military  people,  joined  in  this 
mad  spree ;  and,  with  the  dust  and  the  smoke 
from  the  burning  stores  eddying  around  them,  they 
looked  like  alcoholic  demons  struggling  in  the  reek 
of  hell. 

The  liquor  made  some  of  them  insane  or  good- 
natured,  I  don't  know  which.  I  saw  men  working  like 
slaves  at  handing  out  tea,  meat,  etc.  to  their  comrades, 
laughing  hilariously  all  the  time.  One  very  unwashed 
soldier  applied  himself  enthusiastically  to  the  task  of 
giving  away  bars  of  soap  !  Officers  shouted  to  their 
men  to  stop,  and,  finding  that  their  orders  were  dis- 
obeyed, turned  to  me  and  said :  "  All  discipline  is 
gone." 


A  VAST  VODKA  DEBAUCH  249 

Then  they  themselves  began  to  loot  Government 
property  from  the  train  that  stood  close  by. 

Meanwhile  I  looked  on  awed  and  thunderstruck,  as 
one  who  sees  the  small  but  unmistakable  beginning  of 
great  events — the  first  miracle  of  Christ,  the  crossing 
of  the  Rubicon,  the  march  on  Versailles. 

It  is,  I  said  to  myself,  the  commencement  of  la  de- 
bacle russe,  and  I  am  the  only  foreign  spectator  of  it. 
It  is  the  first  fatal,  unmistakable  sign  of  disintegra- 
tion and  decay  in  a  great  military  body  that  has  awed 
Europe  and  Asia  for  fifty  years. 

There  were  little  hillocks  of  "  sukharee  "  (hard  tack) 
and  of  fine,  newly  baked  bread,  but  nobody  touched 
them.  They  were  not  valuable  enough.  It  was 
pleasanter  far  to  destroy  costly  preserves  and  scatter 
them  all  over  the  ground  than  to  eat  black  bread.  The 
love  of  destruction  for  its  own  sake  had  seized  upon 
the  soldiers  and  threatened  to  become  uncontrollable. 
Letting  troops  loot  their  own  stores  is  like  letting 
partially  domesticated  tigers  taste  blood.  Unfortu- 
nately for  the  Russians,  they  had,  from  the  beginning 
to  the  end  of  the  war,  no  stores  to  loot  save  their  own. 
And  at  Tah-si-chiao  and  Liaoyang  they  had  not  much 
to  loot — only  a  few  waggon-loads  of  preserves.  In 
Mukden,  and  all  around  Mukden — at  Fushan,  Quan- 
shan,  Kandalusan,  and  Suhudyapu — they  were  turned 
loose  on  an  enormous  accumulation  of  provisions. 
The  result  was  that  many  drunken  soldiers  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  Hunghuze  over  by  Tsinmintun 
during  the  great  retreat,  and  were  put  to  death 
with  horrid  tortures ;  and  that,  after  the  Russian 
evacuation,  the  railway  station  at  Mukden  was  strewn 
with  the  corpses  of  Russians  who  had  been  murdered 


250  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

and     stripped     by    the    Chinese    while    lying    there 
drunk. 

What  lent  a  zest  to  this  looting  ot  the  stores  was,  I 
think,  the  feeling  among  the  soldiers  that  they  were 
doing  with  impunity  what  they  could  not  have  done 
the  day  before  without  being  shot.  These  stores  were 
then  guarded,  and  a  private  soldier  hardly  dared  look 
at  them.  The  sudden  removal  of  all  restraint  caused 
them  to  lose  all  control  of  themselves.  They  felt  as  if 
God  had  suddenly  repealed  the  Ten  Commandments. 

I  don't  know  if  it  would  not  be  better  for  retreating 
generals  to  let  all  the  supplies  they  cannot  carry  off 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  In  that  case  only  a 
few  soldiers  would  be  scandalised ;  whereas,  when  the 
soldier  is  let  loose  on  his  own  stores,  everybody  in  the 
army  hears  about  it,  everybody  sees  the  columns  of 
smoke,  and  shares  the  pilfered  dainties,  hitherto  sacred 
to  officers  alone. 

By  the  light  of  these  burning  stores,  the  ignorant 
mujik  gets  one  awful,  fleeting  glimpse  of  a  new  world 
— a  world  without  police,  without  rulers,  without  laws — 
and  the  sight  is  not  good  for  him.  There  is  something 
peculiarly  demoralising  in  the  wholesale,  deliberate 
destruction  of  millions  of  roubles  worth  of  valuable 
property,  something  calculated  to  make  even  a  Car- 
thusian giddy.  The  corner-stone  of  society  is  knocked 
away  ;  all  the  copy-book  maxims  about  thrift  seem  the 
veriest  drivel ;  and  it  suddenly  occurs  to  one,  with  all 
the  force  of  a  supernatural  revelation,  that  he  has  been 
on  the  wrong  tack  all  the  time,  that  the  "  small  profits, 
quick  returns,"  system  is  absurd,  and  that  for  all  who  are 
not  monarchs  or  millionaires  the  one  sound  political 
faith,  the  one  true  religion  in  this  world,  is — anarchism. 


A  VAST  VODKA  DEBAUCH  251 

The  fact  that  all  these  men  were  armed,  and  the 
accidental  discharge  of  a  rifle  now  and  then  in  the 
middle  of  the  throng,  made  this  orgy  tragical.  Some- 
times a  dusty  Cossack  rode  in  with  the  news  that  the 
Japanese  were  coming.  "  They  fired  on  us  half  a 
mile  off — other  side  of  the  river."  On  such  occasions 
there  was  a  momentary  commotion,  bloodshot  eyes 
and  flushed  faces  were  turned  towards  the  frozen 
stream,  fire-arms  were  clutched,  preparations  were 
made  to  fly,  to  advance  ;  but,  a  few  moments  after, 
the  panic  had  subsided,  and  the  orgy  had  recom- 
menced. 

Being  Irish,  I  can  understand  a  crowd  of  men 
getting  drunk  in  order  to  make  themselves  cheerful, 
but  this  was  the  most  sombre  crowd  of  drunkards  I 
had  ever  seen.  Instead  of  making  them  gay,  the 
drink  made  them  mad. 

Meanwhile  there  were  the  usual  contrasts  in  which 
war  is  so  prolific.  A  short  distance  from  the  station 
I  met  three  officers  of  the  Zamostie  regiment,  who 
looked  dirtier  and  more  wretched  than  even  their 
own  soldiers.  One  was  wounded  ;  two  were  suffering 
from  contusions,  which  were  probably  worse  than 
wounds.  Dazed  and  feeble,  with  arms  around  each 
others  necks,  these  unfortunate  gentlemen  staggered 
along — a  tragical  parody  on  Burns's  famous  drinking- 
song. 

Still  more  neglected,  of  course,  were  the  wounded 
privates.  I  met  long  strings  of  them  in  the  streets  of 
Suhudyapu.  Several  of  them  came  to  me  on  one 
occasion  with  their  wounds  bound  up  in  dirty  pocket 
handkerchiefs,  and  asked  me  " for  Christ's  sake" 
(radee    Khrista)   the    way    to    the    "  Perevyazyochny 


252  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 


Punkt."  Not  being  able  to  give  them  the  necessary 
information,  and  knowing  that  my  accent  would  at 
once  betray  me,  I  remained  silent,  whereupon  one  of 
the  wounded  men  caught  at  the  arm  of  a  man  worse 
wounded  than  himself,  saying: 

"Come  along,  little  brother!  Come  along,  go- 
lubchik  tui  moi  (my  little  pigeon).  You  see  nobody 
will  answer.     Nobody  speaks." 

His  tone  was  charged  with  sorrowful  resignation, 
not  with  anger.     He  was  a  typical  Slav. 

Some  of  the  Cossacks  excited  my  admiration  by 
stealing  bags  of  corn  for  their  little  ponies  before  they 
themselves  tackled  the  "  vodka,"  thus  unconsciously 
carrying  out  the  orders  of  their  Cossack-poet  Davidoff. 
Close  by,  a  gang  of  soldiers  were  working  hard, 
loading  boxes  of  shell  into  a  train.  Why  they  did  not 
throw  all  discipline  to  the  winds  and  join  in  the  mad 
revel  that  was  going  on  beside  them,  I  cannot  imagine. 

Other  soldiers  were  carefully  lifting  the  wounded 
into  poseelkee  (stretchers).  Even  in  the  midst  of  this 
indescribable  uproar,  some  Red  Cross  sisters,  all 
honour  to  them,  remained  at  their  posts  not  only  self- 
possessed,  but  cheerful.  I  remember  little  Rikacheff 
significantly  drawing  the  attention  of  one  of  them,  a 
large,  red-cheeked  lassie,  with  the  bearing  of  a  Tsar- 
itza,  and  the  serene  self-possession  of  one  of  Tur- 
geneffs  heroines,  to  his  horse,  which  he  was  tying 
up  in  the  yard  of  the  hospital,  the  inference  being 
that  she  would  keep  an  eye  on  it,  for  at  this  time 
all  the  distinctions  between  "  meum  M  and  "  tuum  "  had 
completely  disappeared.  After  listening  for  a  second, 
her  dark  eyes  brimming  over  with  merriment,  she  flew 
lightly  backwards   towards  the  door  of  the  hospital, 


A  VAST  VODKA  DEBAUCH  253 

clapping  her  hands  together,  and  giving  vent  to  a 
clear,  ringing  laugh,  the  memory  of  which  did  me 
good  for  weeks  after.  "  So  !  so  !  "  she  said,  "  you 
want  me,  then,  to  mount  guard  ('  vstupeet'  v'karaool ') 
over  your  precious  horse.  '  Spasibo  '  (thanks),  I've 
got  enough  to  do  looking  after  my  little  boys  " — 
and  sure  enough  she  had,  poor  girl,  for  the  wounded 
were  being  carried  in  by  scores. 

The  reports  brought  us  from  time  to  time  by  the 
Cossacks  with  regard  to  the  advance  of  the  enemy  were 
not  exaggerated.  The  Japanese  were  coming  on  with 
the  force  of  an  inundation.  Their  right  wing  rolled 
like  a  tidal  wave  into  the  villages  of  Sankiatsz,  Hsiao- 
fanghsin  and  Mentapu.  Their  centre  drove  the 
Russians  out  of  Meturan,  Davanganpu  (which  I  had 
left  only  a  few  hours  before),  and  Danjanhay,  Tser- 
pitsky's  former  headquarters.  Their  left  wing  swept 
along  the  west  bank  of  the  Hun,  capturing  Wokiapu, 
in  the  rear  of  Suhudyapu,  the  village  in  which  I  was 
standing.  One  could  almost  fancy  that  he  heard  the 
increasing  roar  of  this  fierce  advance,  that  he  could 
catch,  like  the  deep  rumbling  of  unchained  waters,  the 
sound  of  this  oncoming  ocean  of  armed  men. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  north,  Nogi  and  his  outflanking 
army  were  literally  carrying  all  before  them.  They 
even  reached  Tehshengyingtsz,  due  north  of  Suhu- 
dyapu, and  almost  in  a  straight  line  between  that  place 
and  Mukden.  Indeed,  as  I  shall  afterwards  tell, 
Japanese  horsemen  rode  as  far  as  Madyapu  or 
Mokiapu,  the  point  where  the  road  from  Suhudyapu 
to  Mukden  crosses  the  Hun  river,  and  fired  on  the 
retreating  Russians  there. 

We  watched  this  terrible  advance  as  Arabs  in  the 


254  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

desert  might  watch  in  the  heavens  the  approach  of 
the  dreaded  simoom.  We  could  not  see  the  enemy, 
but  we  could  mark  his  progress  by  an  awe-inspiring 
precursor,  by  a  reverberating  vanguard  of  shrapnel 
and  shimose  which  scourged  the  earth  for  half  a  dozen 
miles  ahead  of  him. 

To-day  we  are  conscious  of  defeat.  We  live  in  the 
shadow  of  a  final  cataclysmal  disaster,  the  news  of 
which  has  not  yet  been  broken  to  us.  What  are  these 
ominous  whispers  about  Tsinmintun,  Teihling,  the 
road  to  Mukden.  Oh,  tell  us,  Vashe  Blagarodie,  one 
of  noble  birth  !  is  the  battle  lost  ?  Is  our  retreat  cut 
off? 

We  feel  like  an  unarmed  man  groping  in  a  dark 
room,  where  he  knows  that  a  strong  enemy  awaits 
him,  in  silence,  hidden,  with  uplifted  sabre. 

Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  shall  die. 
O  source  of  hope !  Orthodox  Tsar !  O  Little 
Father  !  O  Gosudar  !  You  were  once  our  God,  but 
now  God  and  you  have  alike  failed  us.  Holy 
Russia,  we  shall  never  see  you  again !  God  we 
shall  never  see,  for  there  is  no  God !  Our  popes 
have  lied  to  us  about  Him.  If  God  existed  He  would 
never  allow  His  chosen  people  to  be  butchered  like 
swine  by  the  savage  Hunghuze  and  the  pagan 
Yapontszi. 

I  left  Suhudyapu  before  the  Japanese  appeared  on 
the  scene  and  brought  to  a  conclusion  this  Belshazzar 
revel.  I  afterwards  asked  the  practical-minded  con- 
querors what  they  had  seen,  but  they  did  not  remember 
anything  beyond  the  exact  number  of  the  bags  of  corn 
which  had  been  captured  on  this  occasion. 


I 


CHAPTER  XI 

GENERAL  KUROPATKIN'S  TRAIN 

On  the  evening  of  March  3  I  left  Suhudyapu  with  a 
Finnish  officer  in  order  to  join  General  Kaulbars  west 
of  Mukden.  The  road  to  Madyapu  was  crowded  with 
retreating  troops.  At  Madyapu  itself  some  excite- 
ment was  caused  by  a  Japanese  patrol  firing  on  the 
Russians.  The  audacity  of  the  Japanese  in  coming  so 
far  inside  the  enemy's  lines  was  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  things  in  this  battle,  while  the  entire 
absence  of  Cossack  patrols  at  that  point  was  a  piece 
of  inexcusable  neglect  on  the  part  of  the  Russians, 
In  fact,  the  Cossacks  were  more  useless  during  the 
battle  of  Mukden  than  they  had  ever  been  before  in 
this  war,  and  that  is  putting  the  case  against  them  very 
strong  indeed.  It  is  true  that  the  Japanese  are  bad 
riders  and  have  bad  horses,  but  their  superior  audacity 
and  pluck  more  than  counterbalance  these  defects. 

Crossing  the  Hun  we  rode  northward  for  some 
distance,  thinking  that  we  should  find  Kaulbars  in  that 
direction,  but  several  circumstances  induced  us  to 
retrace  our  steps.  The  first  was  that  all  the  villages 
in  front  of  us  and  to  right  and  left  of  us  were  ablaze. 
I  counted  about  a  dozen  different  conflagrations  on 
the  horizon,  and  unless  we  expected  to  find  Kaulbars' 
staff  in  the  middle  of  a  burning  village  it  seemed  that 


256  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

the  only  safe  thing  for  us  to  do  was  to  go  west  to 
Mukden.  Then,  again,  we  noticed  a  number  of  sus- 
picious-looking horsemen  riding  about  in  the  distance, 
and  though  it  might  be  that  they  were  Russians,  there 
was  a  considerable  probability  they  were  the  very 
Japanese  who  had  been  firing  on  us  half  an  hour 
before. 

We  returned  therefore  to  Madyapu  just  in  time  to 
witness  an  unpleasant  incident.  There  was  a  big 
uproar  in  a  Chinese  farmers  house,  and  riding  up  to 
the  kiaolang  fence  which  surrounded  it  we  looked  over. 
Inside,  a  Russian  officer,  whose  eyes  were  concealed 
by  large  black  goggles  and  the  rest  of  whose  face  was 
as  effectively  hidden  under  a  thick  coating  of  grey 
dust,  was  ordering,  with  violent  gestures,  the  arrest  of 
all  the  Chinese  in  the  house.  A  handsome  young 
Chinese  woman,  with  a  baby  in  her  arms,  threw  her- 
self at  his  feet,  but  he  repulsed  her  violently.  An  old, 
palsied  woman  was  dragged  out  of  the  house  by  a  pair 
of  soldiers.  A  young  Chinaman,  evidently  the  husband 
of  the  young  woman,  lay  on  the  ground  outside,  almost 
unconscious  and  evidently  unable  to  move,  despite  the 
blows  and  kicks  that  were  rained  on  him.  An  old  man 
was  dragged  out,  then  an  elderly  woman.  The  sight 
was  enough  to  have  melted  the  heart  of  a  stone,  but  in 
the  faces  of  all  these  thousands  of  soldiers  there  was 
not  the  faintest  gleam  of  pity.  I  do  not  know  the 
rights  and  wrongs  of  the  case,  but  the  general  cry  of 
"  signalizieravat !"  seemed  to  indicate  that  these  people 
had  some  connection  with  the  arrival  of  Japanese 
scouts  in  the  near  vicinity.  These  poor  people  may 
have  been  spies,  but  this  cry  and  the  blows  by  which 
it  was  accompanied  reminded  me  more  than  anything 


GENERAL  KUROPATKIN'S  TRAIN        257 

else  of  another  cry  :  "  He  is  a  blasphemer!  Crucify 
him  !     Crucify  him  !  " 

Such  things  may  be  necessary  for  the  prosecution  of 
war,  and  they  may  be  done  on  the  Japanese  side  as 
well  as  on  the  Russian,  but,  if  so,  I  hold  that  victory 
gained  at  such  a  price  is  too  dearly  gained. 

North  of  Madyapu  we  made  another  attempt  to 
reach  Kaulbars  on  the  west,  and,  in  fact,  if  we  had 
gone  north  we  should  undoubtedly  have  reached 
him,  for,  as  we  afterwards  learned,  the  Japanese  had 
not  yet  come  so  far.  But  again  we  were  intimidated 
and  checked  by  the  number  of  the  burning  villages. 
In  some  cases  the  horizon  was  lighted  up  for  miles  by 
an  unbroken  line  of  red,  leaping,  wavering  flames, 
from  which  rose  enormous  columns  of  smoke.  We 
rode  up  to  the  nearest  of  these  conflagrations  and 
found  it  to  be  the  bakery  of  the  Eighth  Corps.  Here 
we  remained  for  a  moment  discussing  our  plans.  The 
Finnish  officer  met  a  compatriot,  also  an  officer,  and  it 
was  strange  to  hear  them  talking  in  their  own  proscribed 
tongue,  while  Russian  soldiers,  tired  to  death,  lay  all 
around  on  the  bare  ground,  fast  asleep.  I  asked  for 
an  explanation  of  the  arrests  at  Madyapu,  and  was 
told  that  the  Chinese  had  set  their  house  on  fire  in 
order  to  give  notice  to  the  Japanese  that  it  was  a  good 
time  to  attack. 

Another  suspicious  circumstance  was  that  a  Chinese 
boy  was  found  bringing  to  this  house  the  latest  issue 
of  the  Vyestneek  Manjchurskoi  Armee,  the  official 
Russian  newspaper  of  Mukden,  the  inference  being 
that  this  paper  was  to  be  passed  on  to  the  Japanese, 
though,  as  it  only  chronicled  Russian  victories,  I  do 
not  see  how  it  could  have  contained  much  news  just 


258  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

then  or  have  been  of  much  assistance  to  the  enemy. 
But  if  these  Chinese  were  really  spies,  they  were 
certainly  in  good  position  to  supply  their  employers 
with  news,  for  all  the  troops  that  went  to  the  Russian 
right  had  to  pass  through  or  near  Madyapu. 

The  Russians  also  pointed  out  to  me  that,  on  the 
night  before,  big  conflagrations,  started  by  the  Chinese, 
had  revealed  to  the  enemy  the  headquarters  of  General 
Kaulbars  and  those  of  Generals  Miloff  and  Tserpitsky 
respectively ;  but  I  am  still  unconvinced  by  these 
arguments,  feeling  sure  that  these  fires  were  lighted 
by  the  Russians  themselves.  At  the  same  time  I  am 
also  convinced  that  the  Japanese  got  a  vast  amount  of 
valuable  information  from  their  Chinese  spies  during 
the  course  of  the  battle. 

There  was  at  this  stage  a  lot  of  the  usual  flapdoodle 
among  the  Russian  officers  about  Kuropatkin  being 
c<  very  angry  with  Kaulbars  for  burning  all  these 
stores,"  and,  again,  about  Miloff  being  perfectly  able 
to  hold  out  if  "  that  idiot,  Kuropatkin,"  had  not 
ordered  him  to  retire. 

Finally  we  got  lost  in  the  swollen  torrent  of  men, 
horses,  guns,  Red  Cross  waggons,  transport  carts  and 
commandeered  Chinese  vehicles  that  was  rushing 
toward  Mukden.  The  dust,  combined  with  the  dark- 
ness, was  such  that  for  half  an  hour  after  I  reached 
the  Russian  settlement  I  could  not  find  the  railway 
station.  Lights  shone  all  around  me,  but  they  were 
merely  pin-points  of  varying  degrees  of  brightness  in 
the  dense,  dark  grey  haze.  They  threw  no  more 
radiance  on  the  buildings  around  them  than  did  the 
Great  Bear.  We  seemed  to  pass  dozens  of  lines  of 
railway,  from  which  I  conjecture  that  we  passed  and 


GENERAL  KUROPATKIN'S  TRAIN        259 

repassed  the  numerous  sidings  about  the  station.  In 
one  of  these  sidings  was  Kuropatkin's  train.  Kaulbars' 
train  was  near  it.  Although  the  compartment  of  the 
commander-in-chief  was  lighted  by  electricity,  there 
was  also  on  the  table,  inside,  a  neatly  shaded  lamp, 
which  suggested  studious  ease  and  literary  seclusion. 
One  window  of  the  brilliantly  lighted  dining-saloon 
was  blocked  by  the  back  of  a  typical  waiter  standing 
in  faultless  evening  dress  behind  his  master's  chair, 
his  spine  bent  at  an  angle  of  well-bred  attention. 

On  the  steps  of  the  carriage  stood  Kuropatkin's 
adjutant,  bold,  smiling,  suave,  exceedingly  well 
groomed,  every  brass  button  and  gold  tag  on  his 
uniform  shining  like  a  mirror.  He  was  chatting 
pleasantly  with  somebody  and  seemed  as  serenely 
oblivious  of  the  hordes  of  beaten  men  who  were 
tramping  past  as  if  he  were  standing  in  one  of  the 
most  exclusive  drawing-rooms  in  St.  Petersburg. 

At  last  we  found  the  station  and  made  our  way  to 
the  restaurant.  It  was  packed  with  officers,  so  closely 
packed  that  the  waiters  could  not  circulate  outside  the 
counter,  and  dishes  had  to  be  passed  to  the  people  at 
the  tables  over  the  heads  of  the  dense  crowd  in  the 
centre  of  the  room.  Every  one  save  Rikacheff  and 
myself  and  the  waiters  was  in  uniform,  and  every  one 
was  talking  loudly  and  excitedly.  It  seemed  from 
what  they  said  that  all  the  Japanese  attacks  on 
the  Russian  left  and  centre  had  been  repulsed  with 
great  loss,  and  this  was  perfectly  true.  It  was  only  on 
the  right  that  we  were  beaten  back  this  day  ;  and  this 
was  due  to  the  absence  of  the  First  Siberian  Corps, 
which  was  now,  however,  on  its  way  back  to  the 
west. 


260  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

It  was  everywhere  expected  that  next  day — that  is, 
March  4 — Kaulbars  would  deliver  a  decisive  battle 
west  of  Mukden,  with  the  object  of  isolating  and 
destroying  General  Nogi,  whose  presence  in  that  part 
of  the  field  was  now  known,  and  I  made  an  appoint- 
ment with  an  officer  on  Kaulbars'  staff,  who  was  to 
leave  Mukden  with  the  commander  of  the  second 
army  at  five  o'clock  the  next  morning. 

Kaulbars  did  not  start,  however,  at  five  o'clock  the 
next  morning.  In  fact,  he  did  not  start  at  all.  I 
think  he  remained  in  his  railway  carriage  at  Mukden 
station  for  the  next  few  days — that  is,  until  the  battle 
was  decided.  And  no  one  can  blame  him  for  this,  as 
the  Japanese  had  now  come  so  close  to  Mukden  on 
the  west,  and  from  Mukden  better  than  from  any 
other  point  Kaulbars  could  direct  the  operations  of 
his  subordinates  against  Nogi. 

On  this  day,  March  4,  the  excitement  at  the  railway 
station  reached  fever-point.  From  morning  till  night 
troops  poured  in — Cossacks,  artillerymen,  dragoons, 
infantry.  What  became  of  them  afterward  I  do  not 
know.  I  suppose  some  were  sent  west  and  some 
north.  Great  numbers  of  wounded  were  also  brought 
along.  Long  rows  of  tents  were  run  up  alongside  the 
railway  line  for  the  reception  of  these  wounded.  Out- 
side these  tents  were  piles  of  blood-stained  first-aid 
bandages  as  high  as  your  armpits.  The  great  square 
in  front  of  the  station  was  black,  or  rather  grey,  with 
troops.  There  was  a  large  Cossack  escort  waiting 
outside  Kaulbars'  railway  train  on  a  siding.  There 
was  another  escort  near  Kuropatkin's  carriage,  which 
nobody  was  allowed  to  approach.  There  was  a  third 
escort   outside   the   carriage   of  General  Tserpitsky. 


GENERAL   KUROPATKIN'S  TRAIN       261 

Crowds  of  officers  were  also  standing  outside  these 
carriages  awaiting  the  behests  of  these  and  other 
generals.  Inside  heated  discussions  were  going  on. 
Through  the  window-panes  you  could  see  that  some 
of  the  officers  were  standing  up,  gesticulating  and 
pointing  to  maps.  Messengers  were  arriving  every 
few  moments.  Once  an  excited  Cossack  rode  up 
shouting  that  the  Japanese  were  only  three  versts  off. 
The  restaurant  at  the  railway  station  was  as  crowded 
as  ever.  There  was  hardly  standing-room  on  the 
platform. 

The  number  of  trains  that  were  in  would  have  been 
no  discredit  to  a  big  depot  in  America.  Most  of  them, 
however,  were  Red  Cross  trains,  white,  and  bearing 
the  name  and  coat  of  arms  of  some  princess  or  other. 

There  was  a  crowd  of  czvoscheeks  in  front  of  the 
station.  Private  soldiers  who  seemed  to  have  nothing 
else  to  do  turned  many  a  decent  penny  by  holding 
horses.  The  collection  of  fine  horses  there  reminded 
one  of  a  horse  show.  The  little  village  of  Greek  stores 
near  the  station  did  a  roaring  trade,  and,  strange  to 
say,  the  prices  were  not  exorbitant. 

In  the  censor's  office,  No.  15,  sat  Colonel  Pestitch, 
the  head  censor,  displaying  a  gold  molar  in  an  unceas- 
ing smile,  the  result  of  the  good  news  he  hourly 
received.  This  news  he  generally  communicated  to 
the  correspondents.  Colonel  Pestitch  was  a  personi- 
fication of  optimism. 

In  an  open  space  on  the  road  leading  to  the  city  there 
was  to  be  seen  on  the  4th  a  sight  which  would,  even  in 
the  days  of  miracles,  have  been  considered  striking. 
Four  or  five  hundred  of  the  former  Hunghuzes  which 
Russia  had  for  some  years  past  kept  in  her  pay  were 


262  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

there  marshalled.  They  were  all  young  men,  well 
armed,  well  mounted,  dressed  in  flaring  silk,  yellow 
cummerbunds  tied  around  their  waists,  golden  orna- 
ments hanging  from  their  necks.  One  could  hardly 
believe  that  these  men  belonged  to  the  peaceful  Chinese 
race,  so  firm  were  their  handsome  faces,  so  fiercely  did 
they  return  through  their  oblique  eyelids  the  stare  of 
inquisitive  foreigners.  On  Russians  whom  curiosity 
led  to  finger  those  very  unusual  specimens  of  Celestial 
manhood  they  promptly  drew  their  swords,  and  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  when  they  did  so  they  were  not  show- 
ing off,  as  Russian  officers  sometimes  show  off  with 
naked  sabres  in  the  cafes  chantants. 

These  interesting  gentlemen  had  evidently  attained 
that  enviable  state  of  mind  (which,  with  the  exception 
of  Japanese  soldiers,  few  people  in  the  modern  world 
can  be  said  to  have  attained)  in  which,  every  morn- 
ing that  they  open  their  eyes,  they  are»perfectly  pre- 
pared to  regard  their  own  violent  death  as  one  of  the 
most  probable  occurrences  of  the  coming  day,  and 
when  men  reach  that  stage  their  conduct  is  not  always 
distinguished  by  an  excess  of  caution  and  self-restraint. 

From  afar  off,  the  good  citizens  of  Nurhachu's  ancient 
capital  watched,  in  awe  and  wonder,  this  band  of  free- 
booters. Village  legends  and  tales  and  old  nurses' 
rhymes  had  often  spoken  of  them,  but  never  a  single 
specimen  had  the  good  burghers  of  Mukden  seen 
before,  save,  disarmed  and  bound,  on  the  execution 
ground  outside  the  west  gate  of  Mukden. 

Where  these  desperadoes  came  from  I  do  not  know. 
Where  they  were  sent  to  I  do  not  know.  I  can  only 
say  that  they  all  disappeared  mysteriously  next  day. 
But  on  this  day  of  troubles  and  rumours,  their  appari- 


GENERAL  KUROPATKIN'S  TRAIN       263 

tion  excited  no  great  attention,  and,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  local  photographer,  I  think  that  I  was  the  only 
foreigner  to  notice  them  or  to  snapshot  them.  They 
seemed  to  me  like  one  of  those  mysterious  but 
necessary  signs  which  are,  according  to  the  Apocalypse, 
to  precede  the  end  of  the  world.  Their  coming  and 
their  going  were  alike  mysterious,  but  in  that  day  of 
death  and  destruction  and  red  ruin,  of  the  imminent 
fall  of  Mukden  and  the  tottering  of  the  Muscovite 
throne  in  Manchuria,  the  dead  would  hardly  have 
excited  attention  had  they  risen  from  their  graves 
and  walked  the  streets. 

At  3  p.m.  I  set  out  with  Tserpitsky  for  the  west. 
With  our  Cossack  escort  we  rode  at  great  speed 
to  the  little  village  of  Tapau,  north  of  Madyapu 
and  south-west  of  Mukden.  Tserpitsky  s  new  line  ran 
from  Kwanlinpu  to  Likwanpu.  North  of  him  was 
Gerngross  and  the  brave  First  Siberian,  or  at  least  as 
much  of  it  as  had  arrived.  South  of  him  was  Gershel- 
mann,  with  the  Forty-first  Artillery  brigade,  and 
Roussanoff.  We  had  now,  among  others,  the  four- 
teenth division.  Previously  the  Japanese  had  been  able 
to  hurl  against  the  numerically  inferior  Russian  right 
no  less  than  eight  divisions,  equivalent  to  the  whole 
Japanese  army  at  the  battle  of  Liao-Yang.  Now  the 
fight  would  be  fairer,  for,  in  addition  to  Gerngross,  an 
independent  corps,  to  operate  north-west  of  Mukden, 
was  formed  under  Von  Launitz,  but,  alas,  it  was  already 
too  late. 

After  remaining  at  Tapau  till  the  evening  Tserpitsky 
started  at  nightfall  for  Yangshihtun.  There  were  six 
huge  conflagrations  in  front  of  us.  As  we  drew  close 
to  them  we  discovered  a  long  line  of  our  infantry  waiting 


264  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

in  a  field.  Tserpitsky,  short,  red,  puffy,  but  brave  as  a 
Paladin,  rode  impetuously  among  them.  They  surged 
around  him  with  fixed  bayonets  like  frightened  children 
around  a  father.  They  pressed  close  to  him,  shaken, 
terror-stricken,  as  if  the  sound  of  his  words  could 
confer  invincibility.  "  Men  of  Minsk  !  "  he  began,  but 
this  was  too  formal.  M  Rebyata !  "  he  said,  "  children  ! 
Russia  always  conquers  !  We'll  conquer  now  !  Ad- 
vance and  sweep  those  pagan  Japanese  to  hell !  Now !  " 
imploringly,  almost  tearfully.  "  There  will  be  no  re- 
treat, no  coming  back  !  "  (A  loud  cry  of  "  Nyet !  nyet ! 
vashe  prevoshoditelstvo !  ")  For  a  moment  the  old 
general  was  overcome  by  emotion.  Then  he  mastered 
himself  by  a  strong  effort  and  recommenced  :  "  Reb- 
yata !  molodtzi ! "  but  suddenly  his  voice  broke,  and, 
turning  to  his  staff,  he  said  huskily  :  "  Give  them 
vodka  !  Give  them  anything  !  Send  them  on !  God 
bless  you  !  God  bless  you  !  "  and,  shaking  hands  fer- 
vently, tearfully,  with  the  colonel  of  the  regiment,  who 
had  at  the  time  been  standing  at  attention  beside  his 
horse's  head,  he  plunged  his  spurs  into  his  steed  and 
went  off  at  his  usual  breakneck  pace. 

We  now  approached  very  near  to  one  of  the  burning 
villages,  trampling  in  the  darkness  over  thousands  of 
preserved  meat  tins,  which  had  probably  been  carried 
off  from  Suhudyapu.  On  the  walls  of  this  burning 
village  figures  were  outlined  against  the  flames,  figures 
of  soldiers,  small  soldiers  with  round  caps  and  overcoats 
of  which  the  skin-lined  collars  swept  upward  round  the 
face  and  ears  after  the  manner  of  a  lotus  blossom. 
Crack  !  crack  !  crack  !  They  were  firing  at  us.  We 
had  come  too  near.  Increasing  our  speed  we  soon 
left  the  dangerous  village  behind  and  came,   in   the 


GENERAL  KUROPATKIN'S  TRAIN       265 

densest  darkness,  to  another  where  there  was  no  con- 
flagration, not  even  a  gleam  of  light,  and  behind  which 
thousands  of  Russians  were  massed  in  trenches.  These 
men  also  Tserpitsky  addressed,  winding  up  by  order- 
ing the  colonel  to  give  them  one  yen  each !  On  hear- 
ing this  the  poor,  simple-minded,  tow-headed  Musco- 
vites, going  in  hundreds  to  their  death,  nearly  went 
mad  with  delight ;  but,  good  heavens !  that  very 
morning  a  Chinese  jinriksha  coolie  had  nearly  stabbed 
me  in  the  streets  of  Mukden  for  presuming  to  offer  him 
only  three  yen  for  an  hour's  work ! 

The  General  and  his  staff  entered  the  village,  while 
Rikacheff  and  I  got  a  soldier  to  hold  our  horses.  We 
promised  him  twenty-five  kopecks  ;  and  he  was  de- 
lighted. Taking  us  for  Cossacks,  he  began  to 
expatiate  on  how  differently  Cossack  officers  and 
infantry  officers  treated  their  men.  "  Why,  one  of  our 
officers  would  never  think  of  talking  to  us  so  friendly 
as  that,"  he  began,  but  without  waiting  to  hear  the  rest 
of  it,  we  left  him  hurriedly  and  joined  the  General  in  a 
Chinese  house,  where  after  sleeping  somewhere  in  my 
boots,  as  usual,  I  was  awakened  toward  daybreak  by 
the  loudest  bombardment  I  had  ever  listened  to.  We 
were  like  insects  living  in  a  drum  which  was  getting 
a  tremendous  whack  on  both  sides  every  few  minutes. 
The  house  shook  as  if  from  the  shock  of  an  earthquake. 
The  paper  window-panes  bulged  out  like  the  sails 
of  a  ship  in  a  typhoon  and  then  relaxed  with  a  shiver. 
We  feared  that  with  the  next  terrific  bellow  the 
flimsy  structure  would  fall  to  pieces.  Meanwhile,  the 
rattle-rattle-rattle  of  the  rifles  was  incessant,  close  and 
angry.  Hearing  that  sort  of  uproar  the  first  thing  in 
the  morning,  whenit  is  dark  and  one  is  only  half  awake, 


266  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

the  average  person  is  inclined  to  imagine  that  he  has 
died  during  the  night  and  is  not  waking  up  in  heaven. 

It  was  my  good  friend  Rikacheff  who  aroused  me, 
and  I  remember  that  he  spent  a  considerable  time 
trying  to  make  me  grasp  the  fact  that,  so  far,  I  was 
alive,  and  that  if  I  intended  to  remain  alive  I  had 
better  hustle  and  find  my  horse,  as  we  were  leaving 
instantly.  Oh,  those  horses  !  the  trouble  they  gave 
us !  they  had  never  been  unsaddled  day  or  night  for 
weeks,  so  there  was  no  trouble  on  that  score  ;  but  they 
had  such  a  habit  of  breaking  loose,  and  it  was  so  diffi- 
cult, with  our  hands  almost  frozen,  to  put  the  bit  into 
their  unwilling  mouths.  On  this  occasion  the  man  we 
had  bribed  with  twenty-five  kopecks  to  look  after  them 
had  disappeared,  and  so,  of  course,  had  the  horses. 
Before  we  had  found  them  we  had  received  several 
kicks  from  strange  irascible  animals,  whose  hind- 
quarters we  had  unwittingly  bumped  against  in  the 
darkness,  but  bridling  them  was  a  task  I  should  not 
like  to  undertake  again.  When  I  had  got  the  bit 
under  my  horse's  lip  and  all  seemed  to  be  well  he  would 
suddenly  knock  me  down  with  a  toss  of  his  head, 
which  seemed  to  say  : 

"  No,  no,  no !  By  no  manner  of  means  !  Why,  I 
haven't  finished  breakfast  yet,"  and  I  would  have  to 
begin  all  over  again.  His  usual  plan,  however,  was  to 
keep  his  teeth  tightly  clenched,  evidently  with  the  idea 
of  convincing  me  that  there  was  no  opening  in  that 
quarter  and  that  I  had  been  mistaken  in  thinking  that 
there  was.  Finally,  however,  I  succeeded  in  getting 
the  bit  into  his  mouth,  and,  having  done  so,  I  had  to 
wait  full  three  hours  before  the  General  left ! 

It  was,  of  course,  our  own  artillery  that  made  most 


GENERAL  KUROPATKIN'S  TRAIN        267 

of  the  noise,  and  not  the  Japanese  artillery,  but,  never- 
theless, our  danger  was  considerable,  and  I  did  not  quite 
know  whether  to  admire  or  to  blame  Tserpitsky  for 
running  such  risks.  When  he  sent  me  a  message  to 
come  and  have  breakfast  with  him  I  decided,  however, 
only  to  admire  him. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  the  Japanese  knew  we  were  in 
this  village — perhaps  we  had  been  followed  thither  by 
some  of  the  soldiers  who  had  fired  at  us  from  the  walls 
of  the  burning  village — at  any  rate,  two  shells  exploded 
in  the  front  yard  of  our  house,  and  one  shrapnel  made 
a  hole  in  the  roof  of  the  room  where  General  Tser- 
pitsky and  his  adjutant  were  sitting,  filling  the  room 
with  dust,  but  doing  no  further  damage.  Many  bullets 
also  struck  the  walls  of  the  house,  and  many  more 
whistled  harmlessly  overhead. 

I  spent  only  about  an  hour  in  this  house  after  day- 
break, but  I  could  write  a  book  about  it  owing  to  the 
marvellous  clearness  with  which  at  this  period  of  ex- 
cessive strain  every  little  detail  impressed  itself  on  my 
mind.  I  went  into  the  street  to  wash  myself  at  a  frozen 
horse-trough,  and  I  shall  never  forgot  how  deserted 
that  street  looked.  It  was  not  the  desertion  of  early 
morning — it  was  the  desertion  of  death.  London 
town  must  have  looked  like  that  during  the  Great 
Plague.  At  the  street  corner  a  horse  lay  dead. 
Further  off  lay  a  dead  man.  By-and-by  the  Russian 
troops  stole  past  me  with  the  silence  and  cautiousness 
of  thieves  in  a  bedroom.  I  should  not  have  been  so 
particular  about  washing  myself  at  this  particular  time 
had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that,  not  having  washed  for 
several  days,  my  eyelashes  had  become  clogged  with 
dust.     While    I   was  washing  myself  three  Shimose 


268  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 


shells  fell  in  quick  succession  at  the  back  of  the 
General's  house,  and  as  it  now  seemed  certain  that  the 
Japanese  really  knew  we  were  there  Tserpitsky  decided 
to  leave,  and  accordingly  we  went  eastward  across  the 
plain,  galloping  at  a  great  rate,  amid  the  billows  of 
impenetrable  dust,  which  sometimes  permitted  the 
heads  and  bodies  of  the  Cossacks  to  be  seen — some- 
times the  heads  alone.  We  went  as  far  back  as  Tapau 
or  Dapu. 


CHAPTER  XII 

MARCH  5,  6  AND  7 

March  5  fell  on  a  Sunday,  and,  comparatively  speak- 
ing, it  had  something  of  a  Sabbath  calm  about  it,  as 
far  at  least  as  I  was  concerned.  I  remained  all  day  at 
Dapu  with  Tserpitsky,  watching  a  great  semicircle  of 
bursting  shells  at  a  safe  distance.  I  soon  began  to  feel 
bored,  however.  It  was  like  watching  a  football  match 
at  such  a  distance  that  you  could  only  see  the  dust 
raised  by  the  players.  It  was  a  fine  day,  and  the  sun 
shone  brightly  on  long  lines  of  wounded  being  carried 
past  and  on  numbers  of  unexploded  Japanese  shells 
scattered  over  the  fields. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  a  battle  is  a  display 
of  terrible  energy  all  the  time.  Sometimes  officers  and 
even  generals  take  tea  and  smoke,  and  on  such  occa- 
sions the  irresponsible  correspondent  comes  perilously 
near  to  loafing.  Two  Zabaikal  batteries  and  two  sotnia 
of  the  Verkhnyudinsky  Cossacks  were  this  day  attached 
to  our  force  ;  and,  in  spite  of  his  wounded  leg,  General 
Mishchenko  came  all  the  way  from  Mukden  in  his 
carriage  in  order  to  give  his  old  chief,  Tserpitsky,  the 
benefit  of  his  advice.  They  had  been  together  during 
the  Boxer  troubles  in  China,  but,  alas !  to  use  an 
expressive  American  colloquialism,  they  were  now, 
"  up  against  a  different  proposition." 


270  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

How  strange,  pathetic  almost,  it  was  to  read  at 
this  time  in  old  newspapers  of  the  great  exploits  of 
Russian  generals  against  the  Chinese  in  1900,  generals 
who  were  now  unable  to  do  anything  against  the 
Japanese!  SakharofTs  march  along  the  Sungari, 
Linievitch's  capture  of  Newchwang  and  Mukden, 
Rennenkampfs  storming  of  Ai'goun,  Orloff's  cele- 
brated passage  of  the  Khingan  mountains,  how  great 
these  feats  would  have  looked  if  there  had  been  no 
Russo-Japanese  War  !  How  small  they  now  seemed  ! 
It  was  good  for  Pizarro  and  Cortes  that  they  had  never 
been  called  upon  to  fight  some  stubborn  people  like 
the  English  or  the  Dutch.  Perhaps,  too,  it  was  good 
for  us  English  that  we  never  stirred  up  in  India  such 
a  nest  of  hornets  as  the  Japanese. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  four  mortar  batteries — 
thirty-two  guns, — moved  slowly  round  on  our  left 
towards  Madyapu  in  a  long  and  most  imposing  line, 
which  greatly  cheered  our  soldiers  ;  but  what  we  on 
the  spot  considered  as  the  most  important  event  of 
the  day,  although  history  may  take  a  different  view, 
was  the  fact  that  one  of  the  fine  kitchen  waggons 
which  the  Russians  made  use  of  in  their  army,  paid  us 
a  flying  visit,  which  greatly  improved  our  temper. 
Immediately  after,  however,  a  couple  of  ugly  incidents 
rudely  disturbed  this  happy  state  of  mind.  A  party 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  Russians,  who  told  a  rather 
incredible  story  about  having  lost  their  regiment,  were 
found  wandering  about  near  the  Japanese  lines  in 
the  direction  of  Madyapu,  evidently  with  the  inten- 
tion of  surrendering.  Tserpitsky  gave  them  a  terrible 
scolding,  and  immediately  marched  them  into  the  very 
hottest  corner  in  the  whole  field,  a  place  where  they 


MARCH  5,  6  AND  7  271 

might  easily  get  killed,  but  could  not  possibly  surrender 
without  being  cut  to  pieces  by  their  own  men. 

Then  a  Russian  deserter  was  brought  in  with  his 
hands  tied  behind  his  back,  charged  with  having  been 
among  the  Japanese,  and  having  even  fired  on  his 
own  men.  It  was  an  extraordinary  tale  ;  but  the  dusty, 
bitter  soldiers  who  led  him  in  asserted  that  he  did  not 
belong  to  any  regiment  in  that  part  of  the  field,  and 
that  they  had  seen  him  leave  the  Japanese  lines  and 
come  crawling  in  among  them,  evidently  in  order  to 
ascertain  their  strength  and  then  to  bring  the  informa- 
tion back  to  the  enemy.  The  inference  was  that  he 
had  surrendered  to  the  Japanese,  perhaps  months 
before,  and  that  they  had  ever  since  employed  him  to 
go  about  in  his  Russian  uniform  and  get  them  inform- 
ation which  neither  they  themselves  nor  their  Chinese 
spies  could  obtain.  This  unfortunate  renegade  met 
with  little  sympathy  from  his  captors.  On  his  observ- 
ing with  white  lips  that  he  had  a  wife  and  children  at 
home,  one  of  the  soldiers  told  him  not  to  worry  about 
them,  as  "  the  Japanese  will  send  them  the  money  all 
right." 

The  chief  of  staff  abused  him  fiercely,  winding  up 
by  asking  him  if  he  belonged  to  the  Orthodox  Church 
and  if  he  wore  a  cross.  It  would  have  been  a  great 
discovery  if  he  had  turned  out  to  be  a  Jew ;  but,  on 
the  breast  of  his  shirt  being  torn  open,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  he  did  wear  a  cross — a  Greek  cross,  too, 
not  a  Latin  one. 

About  the  same  time  several  Chinese,  accused  of 
signalling,  were  brought  in.  Most  of  them  were 
knocked  all  in  a  heap,  so  to  speak,  with  fright ;  but 
one  handsome,  affable  youth,  who  spoke  two  or  three 


272  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

words  of  "  pigin  "  Russian,  used  an  amount  of  diplo- 
macy which,  considering  the  great  disadvantages  under 
which  he  laboured,  was  truly  magnificent,  although  at 
times  the  awful  fear  clutching  at  his  heart  would  show 
for  a  second  through  this  veneer  of  self-confidence. 
Unable  to  make  much  use  of  his  tongue,  which  must 
have  been  a  very  sugary  one  in  his  own  language,  he 
used  his  fine  almond  eyes  and  winning  smile  with  all 
the  skill  of  a  coquette ;  but  he  might  just  as  well  have 
ogled  a  milestone.  I  did  not  go  to  see  him  killed,  but 
employed  myself  more  usefully  in  going  around  the 
village  with  Rikacheff,  trying  to  find  a  vacant  house, 
for  it  was  rather  crowded  at  the  general's.  We  were 
astonished  to  discover  one  fine  house  quite  empty,  and 
on  inquiring  why  it  had  not  been  occupied,  we  were  told 
that  it  was  because  a  Japanese  bullet  had  come  through 
the  roof  on  the  previous  day  and  killed  a  soldier  as  he 
was  eating  his  dinner.  Flattering  ourselves  that  we, 
at  any  rate,  were  free  from  superstitious  fears,  Rikacheff 
and  I  at  once  took  up  our  abode  here,  but  when  dark- 
ness fell  we  suddenly  discovered  that  it  was  a  mistake 
after  all  to  separate  ourselves  from  the  Staff. 

On  Monday,  the  6th,  things  were  again  quiet,  and 
even  monotonous.  This  was  all  the  better  for  us,  as 
it  showed  that,  in  spite  of  their  five  or  six  general 
assaults  daily,  the  Japanese  had  practically  failed  to 
move  us  from  the  positions  we  had  taken  up  west  and 
south-west  of  Mukden  on  the  4th.  A  day  or  so  more 
and  we  would  take  root  in  those  positions,  as  we  had 
taken  root  in  the  positions  south  of  the  Hun  after 
the  battle  of  the  Shaho.  That  day  or  so  was  not  to 
be  given  us.  On  the  7th  Nogi  began  one  of  the  most 
terrible  assaults  in  history. 


MARCH  5,  6  AND  7  273 

On  the  morning  of  that  day  I  was  awakened  about 
an  hour  before  dawn  by  the  roar  of  thirty  Russian 
batteries,  240  cannon,  and  by  the  continuous  explosion 
of  Japanese  shells. 

I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  scene.  It  was  the  bare 
interior  of  a  wretched  Chinese  hovel,  which  the  staff 
had  casually  appropriated  at  a  late  hour  the  night 
before — I  may  here  remark  that,  whether  from  chance 
or  design,  we  slept  in  a  different  village  every  night — 
and  I  found  myself  lying  on  the  "  kang  "  wrapped  in  a 
Russian  pelisse  and  with  a  brick  for  a  pillow.  There 
were  several  colonels  on  the  same  "  kang,"  and  the 
ground  was  strewn  thick  with  orderlies,  who  were 
lying  around  in  such  a  way  as  to  suggest  that  they  had 
all  been  killed  by  a  shell.  One,  a  Don  Cossack,  was 
even  lying  asleep  in  the  doorway. 

There  was  a  light  in  the  adjoining  room,  and  an 
excited  voice  was  calling  into  a  telephone.  There 
seemed  to  be  some  difficulty  about  getting  the  party 
at  the  other  end  to  understand,  for  the  same  phrase 
was  frequently  repeated.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  the 
Japanese  were  advancing  against  Fudyatun,  and  that 
this  was  the  commencement  of  a  grand  general  attack 
on  the  part  of  the  enemy.  In  the  subsequent  conver- 
sation the  names  of  General  Churnin  (the  gallant 
defender  of  Yangshihtun),  General  Roussanoff,  General 
Pavloff  (the  commander  of  the  Transbaikal  brigade), 
and  of  other  leaders  were  frequently  mentioned. 
Sometimes  it  would  be  Tserpitsky  himself  that  would 
shriek  into  that  telephone.  Sometimes  it  would  be 
his  adjutant,  Yannoffsky.  Now  it  was  the  General 
Staff  at  Mukden  that  was  communicated  with  ;  now  it 
was  some  of  the  subordinate  leaders  in  the  firing  line. 


274  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Meanwhile  the  Transbaikal  and  Stryelkovi  cannon 
almost  deafened  us.  Louder  and  louder  became  the 
roar  ;  swifter,  angrier,  more  insistent,  more  breathless. 
And  the  greater  grew  that  iron-throated  clamour,  the 
less  confident  I  felt.  I  fancied  I  could  detect  in  this 
frightful  bellowing  a  whine  of  terror,  a  distinct  note 
of  fear.  All  this  uproar  simply  meant  that  those 
yellow  demons  were  just  at  their  best  for  offensive 
purposes,  when  they  should,  had  they  been  human 
beings  at  all,  have  been  tired  to  death  by  their  innu- 
merable onslaughts  for  more  than  a  week  past.  How 
could  we  continue  to  withstand  such  a  people  ? 

While  ruminating  in  this  dismal  manner  I  got  a 
message  from  the  general,  asking  me  to  have  break- 
fast with  him.  I  accepted  the  invitation  with  almost 
indecent  alacrity,  for  Tserpitsky  always  brought  an 
excellent  Russian  cook  along  with  him.  While  I  was 
eating,  my  host  told  me  that  he  was  going  to 
Fudyatun  that  morning,  and  urged  me  to  order  his 
cook  to  make  anything  I  wanted  in  case  he  himself 
was  absent  throughout  the  day.  This  was  the  last  I 
saw  of  this  brave  and  kind-hearted  gentleman.  I 
went  out  next  day  to  see  the  fighting  on  the  west,  and 
was  never  able  to  return  to  the  ioth  Corps,  which 
held  on,  however,  to  Tapau  till  ten  o'clock  on  the 
morning  of  the  fatal  ioth.  How  Tserpitsky  himself 
managed  to  escape  is  a  mystery  to  me.  He  received 
several  wounds,  from  the  effects  of  which  he  died,  and 
I  am  not  surprised  at  it,  for  Skobeleff  himself  was  not 
more  indifferent  to  his  life. 

Before  leaving  the  ioth  Corps  Rikacheff  and  I 
paid  another  visit  to  the  hard-pressed  village  of 
Yangshihtun,     against     which    Nogi    was     at    that 


I 


MARCH  5,  6  AND  7  275 

moment  hurling  his  bravest.  The  sunlight  now 
flooded  the  vast,  grey  plain,  which,  devoid  of  even  a 
single  blade  of  grass,  seemed  the  very  image  of 
desolation.  On  the  sky-line  was  a  small  Buddhist 
chapel,  looking  like  a  Catholic  shrine  in  the  Sabine 
Hills,  and  beyond  it  was  the  Chinese  village  which 
we  wanted  to  reach. 

Half-way  across  the  plain  we  could  see  several  long 
widely-spaced  lines  of  Russian  soldiers  lying  on  the 
ground,  with  heads  raised  slightly  above  the  level  of 
their  bodies,  and  rifles  projecting  in  front  of  them.  They 
were  not  firing,  however,  for  the  firing-line,  which  they 
were  on  their  way  to  reinforce  or  replace,  was  beyond 
the  distant  village.  Very  frequently  we  saw,  afar  off, 
small  groups  of  men  advancing  towards  us,  slowly, 
mournfully,  and  as  fearlessly  as  if  they  knew  themselves 
to  be  invulnerable.  When  they  came  nearer  we  saw 
that  each  group  was  carrying  a  wounded  comrade  to 
the  rear  on  a  stretcher. 

Shells  were  falling  at  intervals  all  over  the  plain, 
raising  volcanic  columns  of  black  smoke,  which  slowly 
dissipated  as  the  wind  whirled  them  lazily  along.  When 
not  thus  engaged,  the  wind  amused  itself  by  raising,  on 
its  own  account,  columns  of  dun-grey  dust,  almost 
exactly  like  the  columns  of  shimose,  and  whirling  them 
about  in  the  same  way. 

A  soldier  gravely  told  me  that  there  was  a  wizard 
inside  each  of  these  "  dust-spouts,"  and  it  did  not 
seem  at  all  improbable,  for  sometimes  these  pillars  of 
dust  went  spinning  down  the  wind  like  phantoms 
with  long,  flying  robes. 

A  semicircle  of  snow-white,  fleecy,  shrapnel  cloud- 
lets hung  over  the  line  of  prostrate  Russians,  like  the 


276  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

aureole  of  stars  one  sees  in  pictures  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  ;  and,  like  a  youth  in  crimson  garments,  the  sun 
now  appeared  in  the  east.  On  seeing  that  a  regiment 
was  slowly  following  us  in  extended  formation,  probably 
in  order  to  stiffen  the  force  already  at  the  front,  we 
reined  in  our  horses  and  waited  for  it  to  come  up.  It 
was  a  beautiful  sight  so  long  as  I  watched  it  with  my 
face  to  the  east,  for  then  the  hard  details  of  the  ground 
before  me  were  all  obliterated,  and  the  spaces  between 
the  soldiers  were  filled  by  a  wondrous  misty,  golden 
haze,  amid  which,  hooded  and  gowned  like  Franciscans, 
the  men  advanced  solemnly,  like  silent  files  of  the 
Beatified  in  some  mediaeval  Italian  painting. 

But  when  they  had  gone  by  and  I  gazed  after  them 
with  the  sun  at  my  back,  all  the  hard  lines  on  the 
brown  earth,  and  all  the  sordid  tokens  of  toil  and 
stress  on  the  men's  persons,  came  out  with  ghastly 
clearness.  The  blaze  of  martial  glory  ceased  all  at 
once  to  dazzle.  The  golden  mist  of  illusion  and 
romance  which  surrounds  the  military  profession  passed 
suddenly  away,  and  the  hard,  clear  daylight  of  reason 
illuminated  inexorably  this  reluctant  march  to  a  miser- 
able death. 

Rikacheff,  however,  was  not  disillusioned.  He 
seemed  on  the  contrary  to  become  more  enthusiastic 
than  ever.  Riding  in  amongst  the  men,  he  spoke  to 
them  of  God  and  of  Russia,  coupling  these  two  names 
together  as  if  they  were  the  names  of  the  two  great 
facts  of  the  Universe.  The  men  were  visibly  touched 
and  impressed  by  the  zeal  of  this  young  man,  and 
many  a  rough  voice  was  heard  thanking  him.  Cir- 
cumstances such  as  these  make  me  see  in  Russia 
a  latent  fanaticism   which  bodes    ill,  some   day,  for 


MARCH  5,  6  AND  7  277 

the  countries  on  her  frontiers  both  in  Europe  and 
Asia. 

On  a  level  plain  east  of  a  frozen  brook  on  whose 
western  side  lay  Yangshihtun,  we  found  two  batteries 
pounding  away  at  the  Japanese,  and  as  Rikacheff  said 
that  he  knew  an  officer  in  one  of  them,  we  approached 
to  make  inquiries.  The  artillery  officers  were  repos- 
ing on  their  backs  in  shallow  pits,  each  man  with  a 
telephone  at  his  ear,  and  some  tattered  novels  and 
empty  sardine  tins  lying  on  the  straw  beside  him. 
They  told  Rikacheff  that  his  friend  was  at  that 
moment  in  the  Kumernya  or  village  temple  on  the 
other  side  of  the  brook.  We  accordingly  visited  this 
temple,  which  was  being  used  as  an  observation  station, 
and  which  was  consequently  the  focus  of  a  hot 
Japanese  rifle  and  artillery  fire.  Once  I  got  inside 
this  temple  enclosure,  I  discovered  with  a  shock  that 
I  had  never  before  known  what  a  hot  fire  meant. 

Every  Chinese  temple  has  got  an  elaborate  gate- 
way, with  a  covering  like  a  roof.  This  particular 
temple  had  got  a  fine,  large  specimen  of  such  a  gate- 
way when  I  came  in  ;  but  there  was  not  much  of  it  left 
when  I  departed,  somewhat  precipitately,  a  few 
moments  later.  There  was  also  an  additional  rent  in 
the  temple  roof,  while  the  ground  outside  was  as  full 
of  holes  as  a  pepper-pot.  The  courtyard  of  the  temple 
would  have  been  in  the  same  condition  had  it  not  been 
for  the  fact  that  it  was  paved.  Consequently  shells 
did  not  go  deep  into  it,  but,  whenever  one  struck  it, 
showers  of  stone  and  iron  flew  about  in  all  directions. 
A  few  moments  before  my  arrival,  part  of  the  gable 
had  been  blown  off  the  sanctuary,  and  in  the  new, 
white  light  from  heaven  that  now  streamed  straight 


278  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

down  on  their  faces — for  the  first  time  probably  since 
the  temple  roof  had  been  put  on — the  distorted  idols 
inside  glared  diabolically  against  the  sombre  back- 
ground. The  light  fell  as  in  a  painting  by  Correggio, 
but  never  did  that  joyful  Italian  make  light  fall  on 
faces  like  those.  My  Celtic  superstitiousness  made 
my  blood  run  cold  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  my  last 
end  in  such  an  unholy  spot,  and  my  horror  was  in- 
creased by  the  presence  of  an  insane  Chinese  bonze, 
whose  sorceries  and  incantations,  directed  apparently 
against  the  unseen  powers  of  the  air  that  were  smash- 
ing his  temple  to  pieces,  were  demoniacal  and 
uncanny. 

The  officer  in  charge  of  this  post  lived  in  a  bomb- 
proof, from  which  he  frequently  emerged  to  take  a 
hasty  look  through  one  of  those  telescopes,  which, 
by  means  of  a  series  of  mirrors  inside,  enable  a 
person  to  look  over  a  wall  without  raising  his  head 
above  the  level  of  it — a  hydroscope,  I  think,  they  call 
it.  It  was  good  that  he  was  provided  with  such  an 
instrument,  for  the  sheet  of  bullets  that  flew  over  that 
massive  temple  wall  could  only  be  compared  to  a 
slanting  hailstorm.  I  was  able  to  get  just  one  glimpse 
of  the  Japanese,  or,  rather,  of  one  or  two  jet-black 
Japanese  heads  bobbing  up  and  down  behind  a  group 
of  Chinese  tombs  a  few  hundred  yards  off ;  and  of  a 
single  active  little  figure  in  a  khaki-coloured  overcoat 
that  shot  from  one  mound  of  earth  to  another.  At 
this  point  the  Japanese  were  overpoweringly  superior 
in  numbers,  all  that  stood  between  them  and  us  being 
a  bleak  grey  line  of  Russian  infantrymen  lying,  close- 
packed,  behind  the  squat  mud  wall  which  surrounded 
the  village. 


I 


MARCH  5,  6  AND  7  279 

Rikacheff  duly  discovered  his  friend,  and,  standing 
on  a  piece  of  ground  littered  with  empty  shell-cases, 
unexploded  projectiles,  and  bits  of  twisted  and  tor- 
tured metal,  they  tried  to  talk.  But,  what  with  the 
rapid  bang!  bang!  bang!  of  the  shimose,  the  crash 
of  falling  masonry,  and  the  ominous  whistle  of  high- 
velocity  projectiles  passing  overhead,  it  was  almost 
as  difficult  to  carry  on  a  conversation  as  it  would 
have  been  on  board  a  ship  during  a  typhoon. 

This  was  the  very  front.  It  was  one  of  the  hottest 
points  of  the  battle,  and  in  order  to  get  a  good  view 
of  it  I  went  into  the  village.  What  a  desolation ! 
There  came  into  my  mind  biblical  descriptions  of 
cities  wasted  and  empty  and  smitten  by  the  hand  of 
God.  Soldiers  whose  faces  were  blanched  with  terror 
hid  behind  tottering  walls.  The  grey-coated  line  in 
front  fired  steadily,  steadily,  as  if  they  were  automatic 
machines  fixed  to  the  ground.  Meanwhile  the  Japanese 
outflanking  army  was  sweeping  round  towards  Pehling, 
the  tombs  of  the  Manchu  Emperors. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN 

On  March  7  the  Japanese  outflanking  army  made  a 
sudden  sweep  eastwards,  which  brought  them  close  to 
the  Imperial  tombs  and  to  the  railroad.  On  the 
morning  of  March  8  I  rode  out  to  the  north-west  with 
my  friend  Rikacheff  to  see  what  was  happening  in 
that  direction.  We  first  came  to  Houta  (or  Howha, 
as  the  Russians  call  it),  a  village  a  little  north  of  the 
Tsinmintun  Road,  and  distinguished  by  a  pagoda  of 
much  the  same  appearance  as  the  famous  pagoda  at 
Liaoyang.  Here  we  found  the  staff  of  the  Second 
Army. 

Then  we  pushed  on  towards  Padyaza,  a  few  miles 
to  the  north  of  Houta,  but,  long  before  we  had  reached 
that  point,  we  learned  from  the  dull  rumbling  and 
pounding  and  the  continual  flash  of  the  shells  that  a 
terrible  battle  was  raging  there.  Before  us,  a  grey 
monotony  of  desolation,  the  level  plain  stretched  away 
to  the  horizon  under  a  pallid  sky,  which  seemed  to  be 
the  reflection  of  the  wearied  earth.  O  great,  sad 
plains  of  Mukden,  torn  by  shells  and  wheels  and 
horses'  hoofs,  stained  with  blood  and  littered  with 
shrapnel,  ye  seem  a  land  that  God  has  cursed  and 
condemned  to  remain  for  ever  sterile ! 

Scattered  over  this  plain  like  islands  were  clumps 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         281 

of  trees  which  marked  the  position  of  villages.  Behind 
the  villages  which  were  close  to  us  lay  Russian  bat- 
teries which  went  boom !  boom !  boom !  steadily  and 
exasperatingly.  Their  shells  burst  in  clusters  on  the 
tree-fringed  horizon,  and  at  five  or  six  points  great 
sheets  of  flame  and  white  smoke  indicated  where 
villages  burned.  A  long  column  of  Russians  began 
to  advance  over  the  plain,  in  the  midst  of  which 
shimose  shells  now  began  to  explode  in  ominous  black 
clouds.  Half  a  dozen  times  in  succession  they  burst  in 
almost  the  same  place.  That  place  was  in  front  of  the 
column  and  on  its  line  of  march.  The  column  turned 
at  an  acute  angle  and  avoided  the  dangerous  spot. 
It  was  evidently  bound  for  Padyaza  on  the  north-west. 
Everything  seemed  bound  for  Padyaza,  where  the  smoke 
arose  out  of  the  earth  as  the  smoke  of  a  great  furnace, 
and  the  sun  and  the  air  were  darkened.  Everybody 
watched  Padyaza.  Now  and  then  batteries  would  rush 
past  with  all  the  clatter  of  fire-engines.  Sometimes 
they  stopped  and  unlimbered,  but  always  they  sent 
their  shells  towards  Padyaza,  beyond  which  there  was 
something  formidable  massing.  It  is  a  vital  point.  It 
dominates  the  railway.  If  Nogi  breaks  through  here, 
all  is  lost. 

Rikacheff  and  I  hurry  forward.  We  join  a  line  of 
soldiers  lying  on  the  open  ground  in  front  of  Padyaza. 
The  dusty  officers  receive  us  civilly,  but  no  longer  with 
their  old  cordiality.  I,  at  least,  am  but  a  foreigner 
come  with  an  opera-glass  in  my  hand  to  watch,  with  a 
critical  air,  the  last  agony  of  the  Russian  army,  to  see 
the  end  of  this  formidable  drama. 

We  are  in  an  exposed  position,  and  bullets  are  coming 
thick.    A  horse  close  by  is  hit.    I  feel  somehow  as  if  I 


282  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

were  facing  a  gale  of  wind.  A  Japanese  machine-gun 
spouts  out  a  stream  of  lead  which  can  be  easily  traced 
by  the  puffs  of  dust  it  raises  from  the  clayey  promi- 
nences in  the  field.  It  swings  backward  and  forward 
in  an  acute  angle,  like  a  search-light.  Rikacheff  lends 
his  horse  to  a  soldier,  who  has  been  told  to  go  back  for 
more  ammunition.  A  column  of  smoke  bursts  from 
Padyaza,  and  the  broken  remnant  of  a  Russian  regiment 
retreats  from  it.  A  few  khaki-clad  figures  flit  under- 
neath the  trees,  and  the  captain,  who  has  his  binoculars 
to  his  eyes,  tells  his  men  to  open  fire  on  the  village 
which,  a  moment  before,  was  Russian. 

As  the  Japanese  fire  now  became  very  hot,  Rikacheff 
and  I  retired,  and  were  soon  followed  by  the  Russian 
firing-line.  The  number  of  wounded  was  very  great, 
so  great  that  many  of  them  could  not  be  attended  to. 
In  one  case  I  saw  two  soldiers,  not  Red  Cross  men, 
carrying  back  in  their  arms  a  wounded  comrade,  to 
whom  even  first  aid  had  not  been  rendered  owing  to 
want  of  bandages.  I  gave  them  the  little  packet 
of  lint  I  always  carried  with  me,  and  Rikacheff  helped 
them  to  bind  the  wound,  which  was  a  shocking  one. 
Afterwards,  by  means  of  their  rifles  and  of  a  little 
tente  dabri  which  one  of  them  carried,  folded,  athwart 
his  shoulder,  they  managed  to  improvise  a  stretcher. 
There  was  a  continual  stream  of  slightly  wounded  men 
staggering  or  limping  past  unassisted,  and  I  must  say 
that  few  of  them  were  bearing  up  well.  They  had  the 
air  of  people  that  had  got  hurt  in  a  row  that  didn't 
concern  them.  Most  of  them  were  moaning  piteously. 
As  they  passed  me,  one  of  them  drew  his  hand  across 
his  wounded  forehead,  and  on  finding  the  hand  covered 
with   blood,   he  said,   as  if  grieved  and   astonished  : 


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THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN        283 

"  Kroff  idyot"  (It  is  bleeding).  Another,  wounded 
in  the  left  hand,  talked  to  himself  and  sighed.  A 
pathetic  figure  was  an  untidy,  bent,  middle-aged  man 
trudging  towards  the  hospital,  the  butt  of  his  gun 
sticking  out  underneath  his  coat. 

RikachefT  and  I  now  went  further  north.  Behind 
many  of  the  low  mud  walls  that  divided  the  fields  we 
found  lines  of  soldiers  ;  and  in  one  place  there  were  no 
soldiers,  but  a  great  collection  of  boots,  overcoats  and 
blood-stained  bandages,  which  probably  indicated  that 
a  shell  had  wrought  great  havoc  there.  We  sat  down 
for  a  moment  on  this  scarred,  unlucky  spot  to  eat 
some  cheese  we  had  brought  with  us,  when  suddenly 
a  soldier  rushed  up  and  begged  one  of  us  to  lend  him  a 
horse  for  a  short  time,  as  he  wanted  to  order  more 
ammunition.  He  got  the  horse  and  duly  returned  it, 
but  no  sooner  had  he  done  so  than  the  Russian  line  in 
front  of  us — it  consisted  of  a  regiment  belonging  to 
the  1  st  Siberian  Corps — began  to  fall  back.  Thus, 
on  this  day  I  saw  our  firing-line  give  way  at  two 
different  points,  and  in  neither  case  was  the  movement 
such  as  I  had  previously  imagined  a  retreat  to  be.  It 
was  no  sauve  qui  peut,  for  the  men  trudged  back 
slowly  and  sullenly,  covered  by  their  own  batteries. 

They  were  too  tired  to  go  back  quickly,  and  the 
Japanese  were  too  tired  to  follow  them  up.  On  both 
sides  the  limit  of  human  endurance  had  almost  been 
reached,  and,  if  finally  the  Japanese  won,  it  was  because 
their  fanaticism  had  made  them  more  than  human. 

We  now  entered  the  great  forest  that  surrounds  the 
Imperial  Tombs  of  Pehling,  where,  in  the  deep  shade 
beneath  the  murmuring  pines,  the  ancient  monarchs 
of   Manchuria   had  wisely  chosen  their  last  resting- 


284  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

place.  The  peace  that  prevailed  here  was  in  startling 
contrast  to  the  uproar  outside. 

Even  a  company  of  soldiers  who  passed  at  a  distance 
through  the  forest  aisles  seemed,  in  that  cathedral 
light,  to  be  transformed,  beatified.  Standing  in  the 
shady  path,  with  the  gentle  rustling  of  the  trees  in  our 
ears,  Rikacheff  and  I  instinctively  lowered  our  voices 
as  if  we  had  been  in  a  basilica.  We  seemed  to  have 
stumbled  by  accident  on  an  ark  in  which  God  had 
preserved  a  specimen  of  a  beautiful  world  which  had 
been  wrecked,  smashed  and  over-run  by  a  deluge  of 
armed  men.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  me  that  the 
Almighty  could  not,  after  all,  be  the  pitiless  Jehovah 
whom  I  had  heard  about. 

There  was  not  a  soul  in  the  great  shady  quad- 
rangles, not  a  priest  in  the  reposeful  ancient  temples. 
Nest-building  sparrows  and  the  long  line  of  gigantic 
stone  animals  which  flanked  the  avenue  appeared  to 
be  the  sole  inhabitants  of  this  sequestered  ruin.  The 
manes  of  dead  Emperors  seemed  to  guard  the  spot. 

At  length,  however,  a  Chinese  guide  advanced 
cautiously  towards  us  from  a  distant  hut,  but,  in  spite 
of  his  stolid  appearance,  he  must  have  been  very  much 
upset,  for  he  forgot  to  ask  us,  as  usual,  for  money 
before  unbarring  the  various  iron-studded  doors  that 
led  to  the  interior  of  the  Mausoleum.  Expecting  to 
get  a  good  view  of  the  Japanese,  I  ascended  the 
highest  tower,  but  the  huge  trees  and  the  white  semi- 
circular earthen  mound,  beneath  which  lie  the  bones  of 
Nurhachu,  prevented  me  from  seeing  anything.  Ricka- 
cheff  and  I  wound  up  the  day's  proceedings  by  getting 
arrested  as  Japanese  spies. 

Thursday  was  a  day  on  which  no  sensible  person 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN        285 

would  venture  out  of  doors,  for  the  dust-storm  which 
raged  was  unparalleled  even  in  the  dusty  annals  of 
Mukden,  and  M.  Naudeau,  of  the  Paris  Journal,  and  Mr. 
R.  H.  Little,  of  the  Chicago  Daily  News,  who  returned 
from  the  front  unrecognisable  by  their  best  friends, 
and  looking  as  if  they  had  rolled  in  dust  all  the  way 
home,  assured  me  that,  even  if  I  had  gone  out,  I  could 
have  seen  nothing  owing  to  the  storm.  I  employed 
myself  therefore  in  the  composition  of  a  long  telegram 
to  the  Herald,  which  I  brought  to  the  censor's  office 
at  the  railway-station.  Colonel  Pestitch  was  not  at 
home,  being  probably  half-way  to  Tiehling  by  that 
time,  but  an  English-speaking  captain,  who  acted  as 
his  subordinate,  took  charge  of  my  telegram  and  said 
he  would  translate  it  for  the  colonel.  He  assured  me 
that  the  telegraph  line  was  uninterrupted,  and  was  so 
optimistic  that  I  not  only  paid  for  this  telegram  in 
advance  but  made  a  small  deposit  with  him  to  cover 
the  expenses  of  future  wires  from  Mukden.  Of  course 
he  said  absolutely  nothing  about  it  being  necessary  to 
leave  the  city  that  night,  and  nobody  else  gave  me  any 
warning. 

On  my  way  back  to  the  town,  I  went  astray  owing  to 
the  fierceness  of  the  dust-storm  (which,  by  the  way, 
proved  so  useful  to  Nodzu  that  very  night),  but  at 
length  I  regained  my  house  in  safety. 

Some  six  months  earlier  four  correspondents — Mr. 
Charles  Hands,  of  the  Daily  Mail ;  Mr.  R.  H.  Little, 
of  the  Chicago  Daily  News ;  Mr.  George  Denny,  of 
the  Associated  Press,  and  myself — had  rented,  for  our 
use  whenever  we  came  to  Mukden,  a  large  Chinese 
house,  which  stood  in  a  retired  spot  underneath  the 
imposing  south-east  corner  of  Mukden's  ancient 
battlements. 


286  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Late  on  the  night  of  March  9  some  of  the  corre- 
spondents— there  were  only  six  of  us  now  left,  and  I 
was  the  only  Britisher  among  them — were  discussing 
in  this  house  the  position  of  affairs.  With  us  were 
three  American  attaches  and  one  British  attache1.  It 
was  a  serious  and  dramatic  moment.  We  heard  that 
Nogi  had  wrecked  the  railway  to  the  north.  We  also 
heard  that  it  had  been  repaired,  but  were  not  inclined 
to  believe  this.  We  heard  that  Oku  had  broken 
through  the  line  to  the  south-west.  It  was  now  cer- 
tain that  the  battle  was  lost.  The  gigantic  army  of 
Muscovy  was  going  to  pieces.  The  whole  fabric 
might  come  down  at  any  moment,  and  the  disaster 
would  be  terrible. 

We  felt  the  responsibility  of  men  on  whom  the  eyes 
of  the  world  are  fixed.  We  were  the  sole  repre- 
sentatives of  England,  Germany,  France,  andtAmerica 
— the  only  White  Powers  now  left  on  the  face  of  the 
earth — at  a  battle  which  would  change  the  course  of 
history;  and  as  we  stood  there,  with  the  Yellow  Wave 
toppling  over  us,  it  almost  seemed  to  us  asif  old  Europe 
were  undone.  We  talked  gravely,  like  ambassadors 
burdened  with  a  great  mission. 

"  Can  Kuropatkin  make  good  his  retreat?  "  was  the 
question  we  all  asked.  The  military  men  thought  he 
could  not.  He  was  trapped  at  last.  A  terrible  object 
lay  across  his  path.  That  object  was  Nogi.  Some- 
body muttered  the  word  "  Sedan." 

We  sat  there  discussing  every  possible  aspect  of  the 
situation.  We  wondered  if  the  Russians  would  try  to 
escape  by  the  west.  If  they  did,  it  would  be  Napoleon's 
retreat  from  Moscow  over  again.  The  mere  thought 
of  that  great  army  of  nearly  half  a  million  of  men 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         287 

flying  across  the  frozen  steppes  of  Mongolia  with  the 
Japanese  army  behind  them,  the  Chinese  army  on 
their  flanks,  and  the  Mongol  horsemen  in  front,  made 
us  shudder.  It  would  be  one  of  the  most  frightful 
disasters  in  history. 

Probably  the  Russians  would  make  a  desperate 
resistance  close  around  Mukden,  and  attempt  to  cut 
their  way  through  the  Japanese  cordon  at  some  point 
or  other.  This  meant  that  Mukden  would  be  shelled 
to-morrow  morning.  The  attaches  were  so  certain  on 
this  point  that  Captain  Bill  Judson,  one  of  the  Ameri- 
can officers,  proceeded  to  draw  up  plans  for  a  bomb- 
proof to  be  constructed  in  our  courtyard.  Principally 
out  of  Irish  "  contrariness/'  but  also  with  the  object  of 
lightening  to  some  extent  the  gloom  which  had  settled 
on  our  little  party,  I  insisted  that  the  Russians  were 
not  cut  off  at  all  that  they  would  fight  a  successful 
rearguard  action  at  Mukden  as  they  had  done  at 
Liaoyang,  and  that  they  would  not  leave  the  city  for 
three  days  yet.  I  made  a  bet  on  this  subject  with 
Mr.  Little — principally  because  I  felt  certain  that,  if  I 
lost,  Mr.  Little  would  have  some  difficulty  in  getting 
his  money,  as  in  that  case  we  would  be  all  scattered 
to  the  four  winds  of  heaven — and  I  regret  to  say  that 
when  we  met  at  Dalny,  about  a  week  later,  this  was 
one  of  the  first  things  on  which  Little  refreshed  my 
memory. 

Meanwhile  I  congratulated  myself  on  having  sent 
my  baggage  north  with  Philipoff  and  the  Cossacks. 

At  Liaoyang  I  had  missed  some  of  the  best  fighting 
by  leaving  a  day  too  soon,  when,  if  it  had  not  been  for 
my  baggage,  I  could  have  remained  behind  and  fallen 
back  with  the  Russian  rear-guard  ;  and  I  was  deter- 


288  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

mined  not  to  repeat  this  mistake  at  Mukden.  I  would 
leave  it  with  the  very  last  Russian  detachment.  So  I 
did,  and  I  was  captured  with  that  detachment. 

Meanwhile  we  solemnly  used  up  our  last  tins  of 
preserves  and  our  last  bottles  of  whisky,  for  it  was  a 
great  occasion.  It  was  the  eve  of  the  Deluge.  There 
was  bound  to  be  a  catastrophe  next  day,  and  God 
alone  knew  the  form  it  would  take. 

In  the  next  room,  Little's  Chinese  boy  "  Ding  "  was 
cleaning  up  the  supper  things,  as  the  occasional  clatter 
of  a  spoon  on  the  stone  floor  or  the  tinkle  of  cups  and 
saucers  indicated. 

Outside  there  was  perfect  silence.  The  cries  of  the 
Chinese  pedlars — various,  mournful,  persistent  and 
mysterious  as  the  cries  of  unknown  animals  in  tropical 
forests — had  now  quite  ceased.  Nature  was  hushed  in 
horror.  With  prophetic  eye  the  earth  was  gazing, 
speechless,  at  a  tragedy.  She  had  already  received 
into  her  bosom  twenty-seven  thousand  Russian  dead ! 
She  had  seen  the  greatest  defeat  in  Russian  history. 
She  had  seen  the  bloodiest  fight  men  had  ever  fought. 
And  now  she  foresaw  the  retreat. 

It  is  one  o'clock.  Hark !  there  suddenly  bursts 
forth  to  the  south-east  a  heavy  sound  of  rifle-firing. 
We  all  jump  to  our  feet  and  gaze  at  one  another  in 
silence. 

For  the  last  ten  days  we  had  been  listening  to 
rifle-firing  day  and  night,  but  never  had  we  heard 
anything  so  ominous,  so  menacing,  so  close  as  this. 
What  gave  an  uncanny  touch  to  it  was  the  dominating, 
melancholy  boom  of  a  single  great  gun,  which  rang  forth 
at  regular  intervals  with  surprising  clearness,  and  was 
immediately  followed  by  an  echo  almost  as  loud.     No 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN        289 

wonder  that  our  faces  paled  with  superstitious  awe  when 
we  heard  that  funereal  note,  for  it  was  the  death-bell 
tolling  for  the  loss  of  Mukden,  for  the  passing  away 
of  Russia's  empire  in  Manchuria,  for  the  strangling  in 
its  cradle  of  a  great  Eurasian  State  whose  arms  might 
well,  in  manhood,  have  stretched  to  Bender  Abbas  and 
Cape  Cormorin. 

Nay,  who  knows  but  that  it  was  the  death-knell  of 
the  Russian  Empire  itself? 

When  that  gun  sounded,  Nodzu  had  crossed  the 
Hun  River,  and  the  ancient  seat  of  the  Manchus  was 
for  ever  lost  to  Russia.  Kuroki  had  crossed  further 
east,  and  was  advancing  by  forced  marches  in  order  to 
join  hands  with  Nogi  across  Kuropatkin's  line  of 
retreat.  Mukden  was  compassed  with  the  armies  of 
the  Mikado. 

With  one  accord  we  all  rushed  outside.  A  distant 
village  was  flaming  redly  in  the  south.  Shells  were 
bursting  afar  off.  In  the  sky  there  were  mysterious 
glows,  like  great  signs  from  heaven.  Ghostly  search- 
lights were  moving  backwards  and  forwards  like 
gigantic  fingers.  But  we  could  not  read  that  mysterious 
handwriting  on  the  vast  wall  of  night.  We  could  not 
surmise  what  was  happening.  It  was  all  a  gigantic 
enigma.  We  did  not  know  that  the  secret  net  of  fate 
had  already  been  thrown  over  Mukden,  and  that  we 
were  all  of  us  caught  in  its  enormous  sweep.  I  went 
to  sleep  that  night  in  a  rather  uneasy  frame  of  mind, 
for  in  such  topsy-turvy  times  there  was  scarcely  any 
kind  of  development  that  would  have  surprised  me. 
Early  on  Friday  morning  there  was  a  stillness  in  the 
air  which,  combined  with  the  absence  of  Russian 
soldiers,  was  decidedly  disquieting,  for  it  reminded  me 


290  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

forcibly  of  the  unearthly,  unaccustomed  calm  which 
came  over  Liaoyang  the  day  Shushan  was  evacuated, 
and  which  I  had  at  first  taken  for  conclusive  proof  of 
a  Japanese  retreat.  It  looked  as  if  the  Russians  had 
withdrawn  during  the  night,  and,  owing  to  the  retired 
position  of  my  house,  they  might  easily  have  done  so 
without  my  knowledge.  Riding  hastily  forth,  I  found 
the  gates  of  Mukden  now  guarded  by  Chinese  instead 
of  by  Russian  soldiers,  the  shops  shut,  and  the  streets 
swarming  with  a  curious  and  excited  populace.  I  felt 
rather  nervous  about  riding  through  the  city,  now  that 
it  was  no  longer  European,  but  there  was  no  help  for 
it,  so  I  rode  through.  When  I  emerged  at  the  west 
gate,  I  saw  that  the  Russian  railway  station  and  all 
the  buildings  around  it  were  in  flames,  while  from 
various  points  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city  great  columns 
of  smoke  and  red  tongues  of  fire  indicated  the  where- 
abouts of  Russian  granaries. 

Outside  the  west  gate  I  called  at  a  Lama  temple, 
where  I  was  well  known,  and  found  the  old  Dai-Lama 
greatly  distressed  about  the  burning  of  one  of  his 
houses,  which  had  contained  Russian  stores.  I  felt 
vaguely  refreshed  by  his  irritation  ;  for  it  proved  that 
human  nature  had  not,  after  all,  been  swamped  and 
obliterated  by  the  gigantic  disasters  that  were  happen- 
ing. Incredible  as  it  might  appear,  the  old  Lama 
evidently  looked  forward  to  a  time  when  the  world 
would  regain  its  ancient  calm.  At  that  moment, 
however,  he  was  very  much  afraid  of  the  drunken 
stragglers  who  from  time  to  time  found  their  way 
into  his  courtyard,  and  he  hailed  my  coming  with 
great  joy,  for  he  seemed  to  think  that  I  would 
prove   a   protector   against    these   desperadoes,   and, 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         291 

as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  one  of  them  came  roaring 
into  the  temple  just  while  we  were  talking.  Telling 
me  to  tackle  him,  the  Dai-Lama  hastily  retreated 
to  his  room  and  carefully  barred  the  lath-and-paper 
door  thereof;  but  in  China  a  door  is  very  often 
little  more  than  a  symbol  of  privacy,  and  the  big  soldier 
could  have  walked  through  this  one  with  but  little 
knowledge  that  there  had  been  any  obstacle  in  his  way. 
In  a  very  mild  and  subdued  voice  I  asked  the  soldier 
in  Russian  what  regiment  he  belonged  to  ;  and,  taking 
me  probably,  in  his  drunken  condition,  for  an  officer, 
he  soon  went  out  again  after  some  incoherent  mutter- 
ings  ;  whereupon  the  Dai- Lama  and  his  shaven  monks 
emerged  from  their  hiding-places  and  hailed  me  with 
one  voice  as  their  benefactor  and  their  deliverer,  whom 
Buddha  would  reward.  I  went  away,  however,  as  soon 
as  my  horse  was  fed,  for  I  was  very  doubtful  of  being 
equally  successful  with  the  next  straggler. 

At  the  railway-station  the  ground  was  covered  with 
the  usual  litter  of  a  flying  army,  and  hordes  of  Chinese, 
looking  like  wreckers,  were  appropriating  as  much  of 
it  as  they  could,  including  some  damaged  rifles  and 
bayonets.  Many  Russian  soldiers  were  passing  by  in 
fairly  good  order,  but  dead  tired.  They  frequently  sat 
or  lay  on  the  ground  to  get  a  few  moments'  rest.  Two 
or  three  of  them  had  disinterred  pathetic  proofs  of 
Russian  aspirations  in  the  shape  of  several  ice  blocks, 
of  which  the  commissariat  had  buried  a  great  quantity 
in  the  ground  with  a  view  to  the  coming  summer,  and 
were  eating  the  ice  greedily.  I  rode  between  the 
burning  houses  at  the  station  until  I  found  that,  owing 
to  the  ammunition  left  behind  in  them,  bullets  were 
flying  about  as  in  a  battle. 


292  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

On  one  occasion  I  approached  a  soldier  who  was 
lying  on  the  ground,  evidently  in  a  dying  condition, 
and  took  a  snapshot  of  him,  feeling  at  the  same  time 
that  I  was  a  brute  for  doing  so.  To  atone  for  my 
heartlessness,  I  afterwards  approached  the  poor  man 
in  order  to  see  if  I  could  not  help  him  in  some  way, 
but  was  disappointed  when  one  of  his  comrades  told 
me  gruffly  that  he  was  only  drunk. 

At  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  began  to 
suspect  that  the  rearguard  action  which  I  was  expect- 
ing would  not  come  off  after  all,  and  that,  in  fact,  / 
was  the  rearguard.  At  first  I  intended,  despite  the 
scriptural  injunction,  to  turn  back  again  to  my  house, 
to  take  up  some  things  which  I  wanted  to  carry 
along  with  me ;  but  on  seeing  the  enormous  crowds  of 
Chinese  through  which  I  would  have  to  pass,  I  changed 
my  mind,  and,  riding  as  fast  as  I  could,  I  soon  over- 
took some  tired  and  desperate-looking  stragglers,  one 
of  whom  shouted  at  me  to  stop,  his  object  evidently 
being  to  deprive  me  of  my  horse.  He  continued 
bawling  after  me  fiercely  for  about  five  minutes  ;  but  I 
rode  on,  preserving  at  the  same  time  an  appearance  of 
imperturbable  deafness  and  calm,  although  I  expected 
a  bullet  to  whizz  past  my  ear  at  any  moment,  for  unfor- 
tunately the  man  had  forgotten  to  let  go  hold  of  his 
rifle.  I  was  rather  glad  when  I  overtook  a  young 
officer  on  a  white  horse  and  a  few  mounted  infantry- 
men, and  I  hastily  presented  my  credentials  to  the 
former,  but  he  only  said  cheerfully:  M  O  chort !  (devil !) 

/  don't  want   to   see  your   d d   papers,"  adding 

fiercely,  M  Have  a  cigarette  !  " 

He  belonged  to  the  brave  ist  Siberian  Corps 
which  had  suffered  so  terribly  during  this  battle,  and 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         293 

he  told  me  that  he  had  not  heard  till  that  very  day  of 
the  retreat  having  been  decided  on.  "  We,  the  under- 
officers,  know  nothing,"  he  plaintively  remarked,  blow- 
ing a  cloud  of  cigarette  smoke  through  his  nostrils  ; 
"the  generals,  you  see,  keep  everything  to  them- 
selves." 

I  reflected  that  it  was  very  easy  to  understand  why 
the  generals  had  not  told  this  poor  fellow  and  his  men 
that  they  were  to  be  the  scapegoats  of  the  army. 
When  travellers  attacked  by  wolves  in  Siberia  sacrifice 
a  horse  in  order  to  gain  time,  they  do  not  tell  the  animal 
why  it  is  sacrificed.  I  took  a  liking  to  this  young  fellow, 
and  decided  I  would  stick  to  him  as  long  as  I  could,  so 
that  I  tried  my  best  to  interest  him  in  myself.  To 
convince  him  that  I  was  above  all  suspicion,  I  began, 
first  of  all,  to  reel  off  the  names  of  all  the  Russian 
officers  belonging  to  his  regiment  that  I  knew  ;  but  I 
am  afraid  that  1  only  made  him  sad,  for  after  every 
single  name  I  mentioned,  including  that  of  the  colonel, 
he  repeated  the  one  dreadful  dissyllable  "  umer  "  (dead). 
If  was  like  the  "  Kyrie  Eleison,  Christi  Eleison"  in 
a  Litany  for  the  Dead. 

As  we  went  along,  our  party  gradually  grew  larger, 
being  joined  by  soldiers  driving  empty  ammunition 
carts,  by  dismounted  Cossacks,  by  slightly  wounded 
men,  by  drunkards,  by  unarmed  soldiers  who  seemed 
to  be  insane,  and,  generally  speaking,  by  the  flotsam 
and  jetsam  of  war.  We  kept  close  to  the  railway  on 
the  eastern  side,  and,  when  we  had  reached  a  point  a 
little  north  of  the  Imperial  Mausolea  at  Pehling,  we 
came  suddenly  on  the  traces  of  a  big  disaster.  About  a 
square  mile  of  ground  seemed  to  have  been  strewn  thick 
with  old  mess-tins,  over-turned  carts,  canteens,  top- 


294  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

boots,  socks,  pelisses,  dead  horses,  bags  of  flour,  rifles, 
bayonets,  cartridge-clips  and  cartridges.  The  bayonets 
and  rifles  seemed  a  new-cut  crop  of  some  kind.  Alas  ! 
they  were  the  only  crop  Manchuria  yielded  that  year. 

With  large  eyes,  we  stood  contemplating  this  wreck, 
as  one  would  contemplate  a  corpse,  when  suddenly 
our  reverie  was  broken  by  a  sudden  shower  of  rifle 
bullets.  Ping  !  ping !  ping  !  ping  !  they  savagely  buried 
themselves  in  the  railway  embankment  alongside  us, 
raising  little  puffs  of  dust.  Now,  this  embankment 
was  ten  feet  above  the  level  of  the  plain,  but,  about 
twenty  yards  ahead,  a  road  crossed  it,  and  for  that 
road  we  all  made  an  instant  and  simultaneous  rush.  I 
have  a  dim  recollection  of  our  party  making  immediate 
and  generous  contribution  to  the  collection  of  curios 
that  already  strewed  the  ground,  of  frenzied  soldiers 
flogging  on  cart-horses,  of  horsemen  taking  that  ten- 
foot  embankment  at  one  bound,  of  infantry  men  run- 
ning like  hares,  their  accoutrements  banging  around 
them  as  if  they  were  being  whirled  along  by  a 
typhoon. 

The  young  Siberian  officer  with  whom  I  had  been 
riding  pulled  in  his  restive  horse  with  a  tug  that  threw 
it  back  upon  its  haunches  and,  without  taking  his 
cigarette  from  between  his  lips,  cursed  steadily.  That 
was  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  him. 

When  I  got  to  the  other  side  of  the  embankment  (I 
was  one  of  the  first  across)  I  found  about  five  thousand 
soldiers  there.  Some  of  them  were  marching  north- 
wards. A  long  line  of  them  were  lying  on  the  top  of 
the  embankment,  firing  as  hard  as  they  could  on  the 
Japanese,  who  were  quite  invisible.  A  good  many 
were  standing  motionless.     I  went  close  to  the  base  of 


I 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         295 

the  embankment  so  as  to  get  the  best  shelter  possible, 
but  was  horrified  to  find  there  the  body  of  a  soldier 
who  had  evidently  been  hit  while  he  stood  on  that 
spot. 

Let  military  men  explain  the  phenomenon  as  they 
may,  that  embankment  was  no  protection.  Further 
on  I  found  another  dead  man.  Then  I  stopped.  There 
was  no  safety  anywhere. 

Men  now  came  rushing  in  out  of  the  dust-storm  to 
the  north.  They  were  in  a  hurry,  as  if  pursued  by 
cannibals.  Among  them  was  a  young  regimental 
surgeon,  stylishly  dressed,  whom  I  ventured  to  ques- 
tion. For  some  time  he  could  not  speak,  and  his  face 
worked  as  if  he  had  taken  poison.  At  last  he  waved 
his  arms  wildly  and  that  seemed  to  relieve  him,  for  he 
proceeded  to  tell  a  terrible  tale.  I  expressed  poignant 
sympathy,  although  I  could  only  catch  the  words  : 
"  We  were  surrounded — shrapnelled — whole  regiment 
wiped  out."  After  a  while,  however,  he  was  able  to 
explain  that  the  regiment  with  which  he  had  been 
retreating  had  opened  fire  on  some  Buriat  Cossacks 
whom  they  had  mistaken  for  Japanese,  and  that,  when 
the  survivors  were  explaining  matters  to  one  another, 
the  Japanese  came  upon  the  scene  and  were  mistaken 
for  Buriats  until  they  had  got  very  close.  "  Its  the 
beginning  of  the  tragedy,"  said  I  to  myself,  horror- 
stricken.  "  Like  a  wounded,  blind,  infuriated  monster, 
the  doomed  army  is  beginning  to  devour  its  own 
children.  God  alone  knows  what's  in  store  for  us 
this  coming  night !  " 

On  learning  that  I  was  a  correspondent,  the  doctor 
implored  me  to  go  back  to  Mukden  with  him.  I 
refused,  whereupon  he  became  hysterical  and  lost  all 


296  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

self-respect.  An  officer  who  had  seen  us  from  a  dis- 
tance elbowed  his  way  through  the  crowd,  and  asked 
what  it  was  all  about,  whereupon  the  doctor  told  him 
that  we  were  both  going  back  to  Mukden,  to  surrender. 

M  Well,  you're  your  own  masters,  gentlemen," 
dryly  remarked  the  newcomer,  turning  away,  after 
having  given  both  of  us  a  look.  That  look  was  too 
much  for  me  :  my  race  and  my  profession  seemed  to 
be  on  their  trial  before  all  these  foreigners  ;  and  I  told 
the  doctor,  once  and  for  all,  that  I  would  not  go  back 
with  him.  Correspondents  should  not,  I  said,  contract 
the  habit  of  getting  captured. 

The  officers  with  whom  I  decided  to  remain  did  not 
appear  to  care  very  much  one  way  or  the  other.  In 
fact,  they  seemed  to  regard  me  with  distrust.  So  did 
the  soldiers. 

4 'What  regiment  do  you  belong  to,  golubchik 
(little  pigeon)  ?  "  I  asked  of  one  of  them. 

"  We  don't  tell  these  things  to  the  likes  of  you,"  he 
answered  gruffly. 

Softening  somewhat,  about  half  an  hour  later 
(probably  because  that,  in  the  meantime,  he  had  got 
wounded  in  the  arm)  he  asked  me  what  "goobernie  " 
(Government  division  of  the  Russian  Empire)  I  came 
from.  He  asked  this  in  the  tone  of  a  kindly  judge 
giving  a  criminal  a  chance  to  exculpate  himself,  and 
when  I  told  him  that  I  came  from  a  part  of  Europe 
which  was  not  Russian,  he  seemed  very  puzzled.  It 
was  like  saying  that  I  came  from  another  planet. 
Shaking  his  head  sadly  and  incredulously,  he  turned 
away  from  me  and  never  opened  his  lips  to  me  again. 

Meanwhile  the  doctor  continued  to  make  a  sad 
exhibition  of  himself. 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         297 

"  Can  any  one  give  me  a  Red  Cross  brassard  ?  "  he 
cried,  waving  a  bundle  of  rouble  notes  in  the  air,  "for 
God's  sake  a  Red  Cross  brassard !  " 

One  youthful  Feldsher  hastily  gave  him  one,  but 
refused  to  take  any  money  for  it.  Then  the  officer 
started  for  Mukden,  without  bidding  any  of  us  good- 
bye, and  I  have  never  seen  him  since. 

Finding  myself  thus  left  alone  among  men  who  mis- 
trusted me  and  who  did  not  know  me,  I  felt  disheartened 
and  desperate,  and  did  my  best  to  gain  some  sympathy 
from  them,  first  by  showing  them  my  Russian  cre- 
dentials and  then  by  climbing  up  the  embankment  and 
exposing  myself  to  the  dangers  of  the  soldiers  who  lay 
there.  This  foolish  performance  seemed  to  touch  them 
somewhat,  and  one  of  the  officers  then  lent  me  a  pair 
of  binoculars,  but  I  could  see  no  Japanese.  Coming 
down  from  the  embankment  I  made  the  acquaintance 
of  the  other  officers,  who  had  now  become  friendly,  and 
of  the  colonel,  a  brave  old  gentleman,  who  spoke  to 
me  in  French. 

As  time  passed,  and  I  showed  no  signs  of  treason, 
by  waving  of  flags  or  lighting  of  fires,  or  by  any  other 
suspicious  performance,  the  private  soldiers  also  began 
to  relent  and  gather  round  me.  One  of  them,  called 
Soikin,  had  been  more  than  a  year  in  New  York,  but 
could  not  speak  one  word  of  English.  He  had  spent 
all  that  year  in  the  house  of  a  German  whom  he  called 
Baris  Enche,  a  rich  man  who  had  seven  or  eight 
horses  and  who  spoke  Russian.  It  was  a  corner 
house,  he  said,  and  situated  on  the  main  street.  He 
seemed  surprised  that  I  did  not  identify  it  from  that 
description. 

My  conversation  with  Soikin  was  interrupted  by  the 


298  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

order  to  march.     The  colonel  devoutly  crossed  himself 
and  said  :  "  In  God's  name  (S.  Bogom)  let  us  go." 

Night  was  now  coming  on,  and,  as  the  dust  storm 
hid  everything,  our  leaders  thought  that  it  would  be  a 
good  time  to  break  away.  Their  plan  was  to  cross  the 
railway,  march  as  far  as  possible  east,  and  then  swing 
round  towards  the  north,  so  as  to  get  round  the  Japa- 
nese obstacle  in  front,  instead  of  going  bang  into  it. 

I  then  mounted  the  embankment  and  stood,  probably 
for  the  last  time  in  my  life,  between  the  metals  of  that 
fatal  railway,  that  idol  of  wood  and  steel,  for  which 
tens  of  thousands  of  brave  men  had  died — in  vain. 
From  Port  Arthur  to  Telissu,  from  Telissu  to  Ta-shih- 
chiao,  from  Ta-shih-chiao  to  Liaoyang,  from  Liaoyang 
to  Mukden,  their  bones  were  scattered  on  both  sides 
of  it,  and,  in  the  whirling  dust,  an  army  of  gibbering 
ghosts  seemed  to  rush  northwards  from  a  land  over 
which  the  Russian  eagles  shall  never  wave  again. 

As  I  crossed  the  track  I  threw  a  glance  at  the  plain 
behind.  It  was  as  desolate  as  the  valley  of  dry  bones. 
Its  only  occupants  were  two  corpses.  One,  who  wore 
the  little  iron  cross  of  St.  George  which  is  given  to 
soldiers,  lay  on  his  back,  but  as  he  was  propped  up 
behind,  probably  by  his  large  canvas  bag,  he  always 
seemed  to  be  raising  himself  on  his  elbow.  His  mouth 
was  wide  open.  His  head  hung  far  back,  and  he  was 
glaring  straight  up  at  the  sky  with  an  awful  expression 
in  his  frozen  eyes.  He  seemed  to  be  uttering  a  gigantic 
blasphemy  against  God. 

The  other  lay  on  his  face,  his  head  resting  on  his 
bent  arm,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  were  asleep.  Beyond 
the  dead  men  was  a  stunted  tree  with  a  single  withered 
branch,  which  pointed  ominously  north.     In  the  dust 


I 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         299 

and  mist  it  seemed  to  me  like  the  gaunt  figure  of  a 
prophet.  In  the  background  was  a  mass  of  dark, 
storm-driven  clouds,  behind  which  faded,  like  the 
hopes  of  Russia,  the  last  faint  light  of  day. 

In  the  south,  Mukden  was  now  invisible,  but,  afar 
off,  I  could  see  the  smoke  of  its  burning.  To  the 
south-west,  where  there  had  been  fierce  fighting  the 
day  before,  I  could  see  a  series  of  little  fires.  They 
were  not  burning  villages,  for  all  the  villages  had  been 
already  burned.  No,  they  were  the  fires  which  the 
Japanese  had  lighted  to  consume  their  dead,  and  they 
twinkled  in  the  distance  like  death-lights,  like  the 
ghostly  flames  which  the  Russian  "  mujik  "  sometimes 
sees  glimmering  above  graves. 

Once  we  got  across  the  railway,  our  old  colonel 
addressed  his  men  in  the  usual  sing-song  style  of  the 
Russian  leaders,  calling  them  "  molodtszi "  (brave 
fellows),  and  telling  them  that  they  would  win  and 
crush  the  Japanese  ;  but,  instead  of  the  long,  measured 
shout  with  which  the  Russian  soldiers  are  taught  to 
reply  to  any  speech  of  their  commander,  there  was  an 
absolute  and  ominous  silence.  The  poor  devils  had 
heard  that  sort  of  talk  too  often. 

Even  the  subordinate  officers  had  no  hope  of 
success.  "  We  are  surrounded,'*  said  one  young 
lieutenant  to  me,  gloomily ;  "we  shall  be  taken 
prisoners." 

This  was  the  refrain  of  every  conversation.  One 
continually  heard  the  private  soldier  saying  otryezalee 
("  cut  off"),  propalee  ("  lost  "),  and  nu  bratszi  shabash! 
("  now,  brothers,  we're  done  for").  There  was  some- 
thing poetical  and  at  the  same  time  disquieting  in  the 
way  they  always  referred,  vaguely,  to  the  Japanese  as 


300  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

"  he "  (on'),   as  if  we  were  pursued,   not  by  human 
beings,  but  by  some  monstrous  beast. 

For  miles  we  seemed  to  be  treading  on  nothing  but 
rifles  and  cartridges,  which  some  preceding  column 
had  thrown  away.  We  also  came  across  many  of  this 
columns  wounded.  One  man,  blinded  in  both  eyes  by 
a  shot,  rushed  after  us  calling  on  us  for  God's  sake 
(radee  Boga)  not  to  leave  him.  I  halted  till  he  came 
up,  and  spoke  to  him.  He  stumbled  forwards  with 
arms  widely  outspread  so  as  not  to  miss  me.  At  last 
one  of  his  hands  touched  my  holster,  and  he  clutched 
it  feverishly.  "  Thou  art  mounted,  O  brother,  O 
little  angel ! "  he  said. 

I  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  this  poor  fellow 
until  a  Chinese  cart,  driven  by  a  soldier,  came  along 
and  I  tried  to  get  him  put  inside  ;  but  as  it  was  already 
choke-full  of  wounded,  the  soldier  in  charge  of  it  sug- 
gested, with  the  gruffness  of  a  man  who  is  afraid  that 
he  is  going  to  sob  like  a  child,  that  my  protegS  had 
better  walk  behind  this  cart,  holding  on  to  the  end  of 
it ;  and,  as  this  arrangement  seemed  to  suit  the  blind 
man,  it  was  adopted.  A  few  minutes  later,  this  vehicle 
with  its  load  of  wounded  had  disappeared  as  completely 
as  if  the  earth  had  opened  and  swallowed  it.  It  was 
the  same  with  nearly  everything  else  that  I  came  in 
contact  with  throughout  this  evening  and  throughout 
the  awful  night  which  followed.  I  got  acquainted 
with  officers,  baggage-carts,  Cossacks,  cannon,  only  to 
lose  them  again  immediately,  completely  and  for  ever. 
A  young  lieutenant  would  come  and  speak  to  me  in 
French.  We  would  then  walk  side  by  side  for  a 
moment  in  silence,  and  when  I  would  resume  the  con- 
versation, lo  !  I  would  find  that  my  youthful  companion 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN        301 

had  suddenly  become  transformed  into  an  elderly 
captain,  sour  and  hirsute,  speaking  only  Russian.  The 
young  lieutenant  I  would  never  meet  again,  It  was  a 
phantasmagoria,  a  wild  jumble  of  transformation  scenes, 
a  feverish  dream  wherein  all  sorts  of  shapes  and  figures 
flit  through  the  heated  brain  to  disappear  for  ever.  And, 
withal,  it  was  a  faithful  epitome  of  life. 

As  I  was  riding  along  I  nearly  passed  over  another 
man,  wounded  in  the  leg,  and  unable  to  walk.  Dis- 
mounting, I  helped  him  into  my  saddle  and  got  a 
soldier  to  lead  the  horse.  I  did  this  not  so  much  from 
pity  for  the  man  as  from  the  conviction  that  I  myself 
would  go  to  my  Last  Account  that  night.  For  some 
hours  I  had  been  vainly  trying  to  recall  any  good  that 
I  had  done  since  my  birth,  and,  in  a  panic,  I  had  re- 
solved to  lead  a  better  life.  Accordingly  I  gave  the 
wounded  men  to  drink  from  my  water-bottle  until  the 
water  was  exhausted,  and  in  every  case  they  crossed 
themselves  before  tasting  it,  and  thanked  God  and  me. 
As  Gogol  say  :  "  Pity  for  a  fallen  human  creature  is  a 
strong  Russian  trait,"  and  I  think  that  if  we  had  not 
spent  so  much  time  assisting  the  wounded,  we  might 
have  escaped.  I  saw  more  acts  of  heroism  that  night 
than  I  had  seen  in  twenty  years  of  civil  life.  It  was 
a  mixture  of  the  Millennium  and  Hell. 

Soon  afterwards  I  got  separated  from  my  horse,  but 
at  midnight,  while  we  were  resting  for  a  moment  near 
a  burning  village,  I  saw  him  again,  and,  with  a  sudden 
return  of  worldly  prudence,  determined  to  keep  my  eye 
on  him,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  the  valuable  collection 
of  photographs  which  I  carried  in  my  saddle-bags. 
But,  as  soon  as  we  started,  he  seemed  to  vanish,  and  I 
never  afterwards  laid  eyes  on  him  or  on  the  wounded 


302  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

man  whom  he  carried.  They  were  not  captured,  they 
could  not  have  escaped;  it  is  impossible  to  say  what 
became  of  them. 

Other  wounded  men  lying  on  the  ground  continued 
to  make  their  presence  known  to  us  by  cries  calculated 
to  wring  the  heart  of  a  stone. 

It  was  peculiarly  affecting  to  notice  the  frequent  use 
they  made  of  the  word  "  brother,"  and  of  the  other 
affectionate  terms  of  address  in  which  the  Russian 
language  is  as  rich  as  the  Japanese  language  is  rich 
in  honorifics.  These  affectionate  terms  of  address 
strongly  reminded  me  of  the  poetical  expressions  of 
the  Gaelic-speaking  Irish.  So  did  the  continual  in- 
vocation of  saints,  and  especially  of  the  Holy  Mother 
of  God.  One  badly- wounded  man  prayed  to  the  Holy 
Virgin  of  the  Iversky  Gate,  another  to  Our  Lady  of 
Kazan,  a  third  to  the  Smolensk  Matushka.  One  dying 
soldier  called  out  with  a  loud  voice,  "  O !  Nicolai 
Chudotvorets  (Wonder- Worker),  Saint  of  God  !  "  and, 
immediately  after,  his  life  went  out  suddenly  like  the 
lamp  before  an  ikon. 

Many,  who  were  delirious,  called  out  the  names  of 
friends  whom  they  thought  they  recognised  in  the 
crowd  of  men  that  flowed  past  like  an  invisible,  gloomy 
river.  Ivan  Tikhonovitch  !  Andrei  Petrovitch  !  One 
called  out  the  name  of  a  woman. 

"Bratszi,  Pomogeete  mnye"  (" Brothers,  help  me!"), 
wailed  one  poor  fellow.  An  officer  supported  him  till 
a  cannon  came  rumbling  along,  and  then  managed, 
after  a  long  argument  with  the  artilleryman,  to  put  him 
on  the  driver's  seat,  alongside  a  number  of  other 
wounded  men  who  were  clinging  on,  I  don't  know 
how. 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         303 

We  disposed  in  this  way  of  many  wounded  who 
were  almost  insane  with  terror  at  the  prospect  of  being 
mutilated  by  the  Chinese.  Several  times  I  put  myself 
to  much  inconvenience  attending  to  men  lying  inert 
and  speechless  across  the  road,  only  to  discover,  when 
they  turned  their  faces  towards  me,  that  they  exhaled 
a  smell  of  "  vodka  "strong  enough  to  make  me  stagger 
backwards.  They  were  not  wounded  at  all.  They 
were  only  drunk. 

Yet,  harassing  as  were  these  wails  of  the  wounded, 
they  were  not  so  frightful  as  the  silence  of  the  dead, 
over  whose  stiffened  corpses  one  or  other  of  us  some- 
times fell.  Squalid,  unsightly  corpses  these  ;  and  yet 
at  this  moment,  O  poor  soldiers !  mothers  in  distant 
Russia  are  praying  for  ye  before  the  shrines  of  the 
saints,  are  making  long  pilgrimages  to  monasteries 
containing  miraculous  ikons,  are  even,  in  the  dis- 
traction of  their  grief,  weaving  spells  as  heathenish  in 
tenor  and  as  Oriental  in  expression  as  those  which 
many  a  poor  Japanese  mother  is  making  use  of  this 
bitter  night.* 

*  Some  of  the  spells  are  given  by  Sakharof  in  his  "  Pyesni 
Russkago  Naroda."  One  runs  as  follows  : — "  From  the  red 
dawn  have  I  wept  all  day  long — I,  his  mother — alone  in  my 
upper  chamber,  looking  out  on  the  desolate  plain.  .  .  , 
There  sat  I  in  sorrow  and  in  sadness,  till  the  glow  of  the 
evening,  till  the  heavy  dews.  But  at  last  I  grew  weary  of 
sobbing,  so  I  pondered  on  what  magic  spells  I  should  employ 
to  charm  away  that  bitter,  deadly  grief.  ...  I  charm  my 
never-sufficiently-to-be-gazed-on  child  over  my  nuptial  cup, 
over  running  water,  over  my  marriage  handkerchief,  over  my 
marriage  candle.  I  wipe  my  child's  pure  face  with  my 
marriage  handkerchief,  I  clean  his  red  lips,  his  bright  eyes, 
his  thoughtful  brow,  his  ruddy  cheeks.  With  my  marriage 
candle  I  light  up  his  long  ■  kaftan,'  his  black  bonnet,    his 


3o4  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

One  corpse,  that  of  a  blonde-haired  lad  of  eighteen 
or  nineteen  years  of  age,  was  quite  naked,  having 
been  already  stripped  by  the  Chinese.  It  looked  like 
a  fallen  statue  of  Hercules,  and  reminded  me  of  the 
words  which  Nekrassov  puts  into  the  mouth  of  a 
Russian  mother  lamenting  her  dead  soldier  son,  words 
which  express  with  a  pathos  which  goes  to  one's  heart 
like  a  dagger  the  poor  woman's  pride  in  her  big  boy, 
whose  magnificent  proportions  had,  she  said,  so  struck 
the  General  when  he  saw  the  lad  stripped  for  the 
physical  examination. # 

figured  belt,  his  stitched  shoes,  his  fair  curls,  his  young  face, 
this  swift  step,  ...  I  avert  from  thee,  O  never-sufficiently- 
to-be-gazed-on  child,  the  terrible  devil.  I  avert  the  fierce 
whirlwind.  I  drive  away  the  one-eyed  wood-sprite.  .  .  . 
And  then,  my  child,  at  night  and  at  midnight,  throughout 
the  hours  and  at  the  half-hours,  on  the  highroad  and  in 
byways,  sleeping  and  waking,  be  thou  hidden  and  concealed 
by  virtue  of  this,  my  powerful  spell,  from  hostile  influences 
and  from  unclean  spirits,  preserved  from  sudden  death  and 
from  misfortune  and  from  woe.  .  .  .  And  should  the  hour 
of  thy  death  come,  remember,  O  my  child  !  our  great  love 
for  thee,  our  unsparing  bread-and-salt,  and,  turning  towards 
thy  well-loved  home,  bend  thy  brow  to  the  ground  with 
seven  times  seven  salutations,  bid  farewell  to  thy  kith  and 
kin  and  drop  into  a  sweet  and  dreamless  slumber." 

Another  spell  says : — M  Mayest  thou  never  be  hurt,  O  my 
child !  by  guns  or  by  arquebuses,  or  by  arrows  or  by 
wrestlers,  or  by  boxers.  May  the  champions  not  challenge 
thee  nor  strike  thee  with  warlike  weapons ;  may  they  not 
pierce  thee  with  lance  or  spear,  or  cut  thee  with  halbert  or 
hatchet,  or  crush  thee  with  battle-axe,  or  stab  thee  with 
knife.  May  the  aged  deceive  thee  not ;  may  the  young  men 
do  thee  no  injury ;  but  mayst  thou  be  to  them  as  a  hawk, 
and  may  they  be  unto  thee  as  thrushes." 

*  "  Podiveelsya  sam  eez  Piter  General  na  papnya  etogo 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         305 

We  passed  several  other  naked  corpses,  one  of 
which  was  headless  and  still  warm — for  when  I  fell 
over  it  my  face  touched  it.  I  had  at  first  thought  that 
it  was  the  body  of  a  living  man,  and  it  was  only  when 
I  attempted  to  give  it  a  drink  that  I  discovered  it  to 
be  headless.  For  a  long  time  after  this  I  feared  that 
my  nervous  system  had  been  permanently  injured  by 
the  shock  I  received  on  this  occasion.  I  could  not 
bear  to  even  think  of  this  incident  for,  whenever  I 
did,  it  gripped  my  brain  like  an  insane  obsession. 

It  was  evident,  then,  that  the  Chinese  were  close 
by,  and  my  heart  sank  like  lead,  for  nothing  so 
appalled  me  as  the  prospect  of  being  beheaded  and 
stripped  stark  naked,  for  I  felt  that,  in  that  case, 
my  own  mother  could  not  recognise  me.  I  would 
lose  my  race,  my  individuality.  I  would  lose  that 
cachet,  that  special  character  which  everybody 
imagines  to  mark  him  off  from  the  common  herd.  I 
would  simply  become  a  lump  of  excrement  dunged  by 
War.  Soul  and  body  would,  it  seemed  to  me,  be  alike 
annihilated.  Any  one  who  has  ever  seen  that  mon- 
strous spectacle,  a  headless  corpse,  can  understand  the 
horror  which  I  felt,  and  the  longing  with  which  I 
longed  at  that  moment  for  a  consecrated  grave  on 
some  green  hillside  in  Ireland.  I  dare  say  that  all  of 
my  companions  had  the  same  longing,  for  I  heard  a 
dismounted  Cossack  say  that  he  would  not  mind 
getting  killed  if  only  he  were  buried  near  a  great 
river. 

kak  v'  rekrutskoe  prisutstvie  preevelee  ego  razdyetavo." 
.  .  .  ("  Why,  the  General  at  Piter  was  surprised  himself  to  see 
how  strong  my  lad  was,  when  they  brought  the  boy  naked 
into  the  Hall  of  Examination  "). 

u 


306  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Owing  to  a  strange  physical  weakness  that  came 
over  me  at  this  time  and  also  to  the  fear  that  I  should 
be  the  first  to  fall  in  case  an  attack  was  made  on  us 
from  the  front,  I  tried  to  work  my  way  into  the  centre 
of  our  column,  but,  as  everybody  else  was  trying  to 
do  exactly  the  same  thing,  I  was  unsuccessful. 

Nobody  knew  where  we  were  going  or  who  com- 
manded us  or  what  troops  we  were  composed  of. 
"  Ya  nye  magu  znat  "  ("  I  don't  know  ")  was  the  stereo- 
typed answer  of  the  soldiers  to  whom  I  addressed 
myself  for  information.  We  were  marching  through 
the  valley  of  the  Shadow.  Between  us  and  Tiehling 
lay  a  chasm  like  that  which  divides  the  living  from  the 
dead.  I  felt  that  I  had  ceased  to  be  a  human  being, 
and  had  become  a  thing,  a  piece  of  wreckage,  tossed 
hither  and  thither  in  the  crowd. 

I  should  soon  have  lost  the  party  to  which  I  had 
attached  myself,  and  among  which  I  had  now  made  a 
few  acquaintances,  had  it  not  been  for  the  kindness  of 
an  officer  who,  seeing  me  fall  repeatedly,  told  off  a 
soldier  specially  to  guide  my  wandering  footsteps. 
I  made  the  acquaintance  of  this  soldier  in  deepest 
night,  and  I  never  saw  him  by  daylight,  so  that 
I  am  to  this  day  in  ignorance  of  his  appearance, 
but  he  seemed  to  be  a  bright,  quick-witted  young 
fellow.  At  first  I  used  to  lose  him  frequently,  but 
then  I  noticed  that  the  sharp  top  of  his  "  bash- 
leek,"  or  the  detachable  hood  of  grey  felt,  which  he 
wore  over  his  head,  pointed  upwards  at  a  slightly 
different  angle  to  the  others,  and  also  that  there  was  a 
peculiar  glint  in  the  tin  can  he  wore  at  his  belt,  for  it 
is  extraordinary  how  expert  one  becomes  in  detecting 
these    infinitesimal   points   of  difference   when  it    is 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         307 

almost  a  matter  of  life  or  death  for  him  to  notice  them. 
The  fraternally  authoritative  way  in  which  he  used  to 
say  to  me:  "Come  along  now,  'golubcheek'  (little 
pigeon) !  come  along,  '  bratetz  '  (comrade) !  "  when  I 
had  fallen  behind  or  had  continued  to  rest  after  the 
order  to  advance  had  been  given,  touched  my  heart 
like  the  embrace  of  a  mother. 

This  mysterious  soldier,  whom  I  shall  call  "  the  Man 
in  the  Bashleek,"  was  very  quick  at  finding  the  way, 
at  circumventing  obstacles,  at  helping  his  officers  ;  and 
he  was  not,  I  am  sure,  told  off  to  watch  me  as  a 
prisoner,  for  he  always  walked  in  front,  and  I  could 
easily  have  escaped  him  at  any  time.  I  was  very  glad 
to  keep  close  to  him,  however,  for  had  I  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  some  strange  detachment  I  might  have  fared 
badly.  He  asked  me  once  if  I  was  a  barin  (gentleman), 
and  expressed  his  amazement  at  my  not  having  re- 
mained behind  in  Mukden.    I  was  just  as  amazed  myself. 

I  was  carrying  on  my  arm  (for,  though  the  night  was 
cold,  the  walking  had  heated  me)  a  very  heavy  fur- 
lined  overcoat,  under  the  weight  of  which  I  frequently 
stumbled  ;  and,  perceiving  this,  a  soldier  kindly  took 
the  coat  from  me,  saying,  "  Give  it  to  me>  O  little 
brother  (brateeshka)."  For  hours  after,  I  was  selfish 
enough  to  watch  him  staggering  and  tumbling  under 
the  weight  of  that  unwieldy  garment,  but  when  dawn 
came,  he  and  the  ulster  had  both  disappeared.  Whether 
he  had  heroically  fallen  by  the  wayside  still  clutching 
that  fatal  coat  or  had  wisely  dropped  it  I  cannot  say  ; 
but  at  such  a  time  it  was  more  than  kind  of  him  to 
carry  it  at  all. 

Of  course  we  had  thrown  out  no  scouts  and,  at  any 
moment,  we  might  walk  into  the  gates  of  death. 


3o8  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Before  us  was  night,  cruel  night,  inscrutable  as  the 
woman  on  whose  forehead  was  mystery.  Every  tree, 
every  shape  was  big  with  menace.  A  stray  dog  once 
caused  a  panic  in  which  several  of  our  soldiers  shot 
each  other. 

There  was  some  light  from  the  stars,  and  more,  for 
a  short  time,  from  a  burning  village  far  in  front.  Some 
miles  in  advance  of  us,  rifle-fire  continued  at  intervals 
until  near  dawn.  We  seemed  to  be  continually  knocking 
up  against  lost  columns  like  ourselves,  armed  bands 
marching  towards  all  points  of  the  compass,  moving 
like  wandering  comets  in  the  abyss  of  night.  Some 
of  our  men  were  always  killed  on  these  occasions,  for 
each  party  mistook  the  other  for  the  enemy  and  com- 
menced firing.  It  was  not  till  the  wounded  began  to 
shriek  in  Russian  that  the  mistake  was  discovered. 
A  few  of  our  men,  who  were  most  certainly  insane, 
had  to  be  forcibly  made  to  cease  firing,  but  their 
weapons  were  not  taken  from  them.  In  one  of  these 
wandering  columns  Soi'kin  met  his  brother  and  went 
away  with  him,  for  none  of  these  other  lost  battalions 
ever  joined  us.  They  had  always  some  mysterious  des- 
tination of  their  own.  And  yet,  in  the  long  run,  we 
all  reached  the  same  sad  goal. 

Out  of  that  impenetrable  night  there  loomed  up  at 
intervals  in  front  of  us  a  mysterious  figure  on  a  white 
horse,  but,  though  we  called  to  it,  it  did  not  come  closer, 
nor  did  it  go  away  until  we  fired  at  it  when  it  suddenly 
disappeared,  the  horse  galloping  wildly  like  a  steed 
that  is  riderless.  I  reflected,  with  a  sudden  spasm  of 
horror  which  made  me  sweat,  that  it  might  be  the 
frozen  equestrian  corpse  of  the  young  Siberian  officer 
who  had  given  me  a  cigarette  at  the  railway  embank- 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         309 

ment  some  hours  before.  If  this  was  so,  our  doomed 
column  was  being  led  on  by  Death  itself. 

Once,  while  we  were  all  resting  for  a  moment,  I  had 
just  thrown  myself  down  flat  on  my  back  when  I  caught 
sight  in  the  zenith  above  me  of  a  great  star  that  fell 
from  heaven,  burning  as  it  were  a  lamp.  This  grand 
celestial  phenomenon  at  once  recalled  to  my  mind  the 
obscure  and  terrible  prophecies  of  the  Apocalypse  ; 
and  the  soldiers  seemed  to  be  similarly  affected,  for 
they  said  it  was  the  track  of  an  angel  flying  to  receive 
a  departing  spirit. 

Once  every  hour  or  so  we  were  allowed  to  lie  down 
on  the  ground  and  rest  for  a  few  minutes.  I  used  to 
appreciate  this  repose  keenly,  and  became  quite  a 
connoisseur  in  earth-couches.  I  found  that  the  best 
way  to  rest  was  to  lie  athwart  the  furrows,  my  hips  in 
one  hollow  and  my  heels  in  another,  the  back  of  my 
head  resting  on  one  ridge  and  my  legs  bending  at  the 
knees  over  a  second.  I  used  to  become  so  comfortable 
in  this  luxurious  position  that  I  always  fell  fast  asleep 
the  moment  I  assumed  it,  but,  luckily,  "the  man  in 
the  'bashleek'"  always  woke  me  up  promptly,  so  that 
I  never  had  time  to  get  frozen.  Despite  their  extreme 
fatigue,  the  soldiers  did  not  like  these  pauses,  for  the 
intense  silence  horrified  them.  The  men  held  their 
breath,  so  that  I  fancied  I  could  hear  my  heart  beat- 
ing. Once,  a  dog  howled  dismally  in  a  distant 
village. 

I  noticed  that  we  passed  through  four  different  kinds 
of  country,  first  flat  country  over  which  a  gigantic 
steam-roller  seemed  to  have  just  passed,  levelling 
everything,  and  leaving  behind  it  naught  but  wounded 
men,  dead  horses,  and  broken   carts ;  then  flat,  culti- 


3io  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

vated  land  in  which  we  had  to  cross  the  furrows ;  then 
flat  cultivated  land  in  which  we  walked  along  the 
furrows ;  and,  lastly,  grassy  and  slightly  hilly  country. 

These  furrows  were  frozen  as  hard  as  marble,  and 
walking  athwart  them  was  worse  than  marching  with 
peas  in  your  boots,  for  they  were  not  far  enough  apart 
for  a  single  stride,  and,  as  they  were  invisible  in  the 
darkness,  one  frequently  came  a  "  cropper."  Every 
now  and  then  a  big  soldier  would  come  down  with  a 
thud,  and  a  rattle  of  accoutrements  that  sounded  like 
the  fall  of  a  harnessed  dray-horse.  It  was  like  walking 
the  treadmill,  it  was  like  tugging  the  oar  in  a  Moroccan 
galley ;  but  by-and-by  I  became  used  to  it,  just  as  I 
could,  I  suppose,  become  used  to  picking  oakum,  and 
plodded  on  stolidly  and  mechanically.  It  seemed  as  if 
I  had  been  all  my  life  engaged  in  this  sort  of  work. 
I  tried,  but  unsuccessfully,  to  imagine  that  at  that 
very  moment  people  were  sitting  down  to  recherchd 
dinners  in  the  Carlton,  buying  " extra  specials"  in 
the  Strand,  and  laying  down  the  law  about  the 
battle  in  the  clubs.  It  was  hard  to  realise  that  some 
parts  of  the  world  were  bored  by  the  whole  proceed- 
ings, but  whenever  I  brought  my  mind  to  bear  on  this 
problem  I  missed  a  furrow  and  went  headlong  to  the 
earth.  Walking  down  these  furrows  was  also  very 
tiresome,  as  they  were  just  a  shade  too  narrow.  The 
hilly  country  in  which  we  found  ourselves  before  dawn 
next  morning  was  not  much  better  than  that  which  we 
had  traversed  during  the  night,  as  it  contained  un- 
expected gullies  and  stumps  of  trees. 

Towards  morning  we  all  became  afflicted  by  a  ter- 
rible thirst,  and  one  of  the  officers  earned  my  everlast- 
ing gratitude  by  allowing  me  on  several  occasions  to 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  MUKDEN         311 

drink  from  his  water-bottle.  At  length  this  precious 
liquid  gave  out,  and  I  keenly  envied  the  soldiers  who 
were  able  with  their  bayonets  to  cut  lumps  of  ice  from 
the  frozen  streams.  At  times,  when  the  firing  in 
front  of  us  ceased,  one  might  have  thought  that  we 
had  escaped,  had  it  not  been  for  a  Japanese  flash-light 
on  the  northern  horizon.  It  was  our  constant  aim  all 
night  long  to  hide  from  that  flash-light,  and,  whenever 
we  found  its  glassy,  unpitying  eye  fixed  upon  us,  a 
visible  shudder  ran  down  our  whole  line. 

At  first  we  marched  like  a  mob,  but  finally,  by  dint 
of  hard  work,  the  officers  succeeded  in  creating  some 
sort  of  order.  This  was  not  easy,  as  we  consisted  of 
the  fragments  of  seven  regiments,  and  as  officers  and 
men  had  been  thrown  together  haphazard. 

I  did  not  realise  how  demoralised  the  men  were 
until  once,  when  passing  near  a  burning  village,  a 
Japanese  patrol  fired  on  us.  Once  again  our  whole 
force  shuddered,  but  this  time  it  was  a  shudder  that 
might  very  easily  have  become  a  rout.  The  Japanese 
only  fired  a  few  shots  at  close  quarters,  but  they  pro- 
bably hung  upon  our  rear  till  morning,  carefully 
shepherding  us  into  the  trap  that  had  been  prepared 
for  us. 

The  soldiers  are  models  of  stoical  resignation,  and 
their  conversation  on  the  march  seemed  to  consist  of 
vague  proverbs  expressing  fatalism.  They  trudged 
along  with  the  humble  resignation  of  beasts  of  burden, 
and,  as  I  watched  them,  I  could  not  help  thinking  of 
Tolstoi's  Karatayef. 

Several  times  throughout  the  night  I  tried  to  say 
my  prayers,  but,  I  am  afraid,  with  ill  success,  for  before 
I  could  concentrate  my  mind  sufficiently,  I  had  lost 


3i2  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

my  place  in  the  ranks,  or  stumbled  over  the  trunk  of  a 
tree,  or  down  a  gully.  Sometimes  I  was  surprised  to 
find  myself  mechanically  saying  my  prayers  in  English, 
the  language  in  which  I  had  been  taught  them  by  my 
mother,  but  in  which  I  had  not  said  them  for  many 
years.  I  had  none  of  those  swift  visions  of  my  past 
life  with  which  people  about  to  die  are  supposed  to  be 
favoured.  In  fact,  I  had  no  time  for  visions.  I  was 
too  tired  and  too  much  occupied  in  watching  where  I 
was  putting  my  feet. 

Dawn  came  almost  suddenly  while  we  were  sitting 
down  on  a  hill-side  There  were  now  about  three 
thousand  of  us,  but  very  few  mounted  men  and  no 
cannon  or  carts.  What  became  of  the  guns  and  gun- 
carriages,  the  latter  laden  with  wounded,  I  do  not 
know  ;  but  as  I  saw  some  artillerymen  riding  artillery 
horses  with  the  traces  trailing  on  the  ground,  but  no 
guns  behind  them,  I  surmised  that  cannons  and  cart- 
loads of  wounded  had  all  been  alike  abandoned  during: 
the  night.  My  own  horse  I  sought  for  long  and 
anxiously,  but  in  vain.  Poor  old  "  Sobersides,"  who 
carried  me  all  through  the  war,  what  fate  has  befallen 
thee? 


CHAPTER   XIV 

OUR  CAPTURE 

The  first  thing  I  remember  about  March  1 1  was  being 
awakened  by  a  soldier,  for  I  had  unwittingly  fallen 
asleep.  I  must  have  been  dreaming,  for,  half  awake, 
I  thought  that  I  had  been  washed  up  by  the  sea,  and 
the  roaring  of  the  surges  was  still  in  my  ears.  I  found 
the  world,  which  I  hardly  hoped  to  see  again,  bathed  in 
a  faint,  cold  grey  light,  in  which  I  strove  to  recognise 
some  of  the  friends  I  had  made  during  the  hours  of 
darkness. 

It  was  a  difficult  task,  for  they  seemed  no  more  to 
correspond  to  the  portraits  which  I  had  formed  of 
them  in  my  mind  than  mental  portraits  of  authors 
formed  by  readers  of  their  books  correspond  to  the 
reality.  I  saw  a  soldier  who  might  have  been  the 
"  man  in  the  bashleek,"  because  he  talked  of  our 
having  been  together  throughout  the  night ;  but  he  was 
only  an  ordinary,  stale-looking  elderly  private,  whoi 
when  he  stepped  back  among  his  comrades,  became 
instantly  undistinguishable  from  them.  I  shook  hands 
with  the  officer  who  had  given  me  water  ;  but  he,  too, 
was  quite  different  to  what  I  had  expected  him  to  be. 

The  colonel,  who  was  on  horseback,  bade  me  good 
morning  in  French,  and  thanked  his  men  in  Russian, 
calling  them  "  Molodtsami,  rebyata  !  "  (" Brave  fellows, 


3  H  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

children ")  but  there  was  no  answering  shout 
"  Radee  starat'sya"  ("Glad  to  do  all  we  can")  from 
the  latter.  They  had  heard  these  complimentary 
speeches  too  often. 

Soon  after,  we  entered  a  broad  flat  valley  with  some 
heights  beyond,  the  character  of  the  country  being,  as 
I  have  already  pointed  out,  quite  different  from  that 
of  the  level  Mukden  district. 

To  the  south  was  a  grove  of  pine-trees  surrounding 
a  little  shrine  and  surrounded  by  a  wall,  and  this  grove 
some  of  our  men  went  to  beat,  not  for  game,  however, 
but  for  hunters — we  were  the  game.  And  the  hunters 
were  there,  as  a  volley  from  the  grove  and  the  whizz  of 
bullets  overhead  clearly  indicated.  A  lieutenant  near 
me  clapped  his  hand  suddenly  to  his  side  and  said 
"  Chort  vozmee  !  "  ("  The  devil  take  me  ! ")  He  had 
been  wounded,  and  in  ten  seconds  he  was  dead.  Our 
Colonel  shouted  out  directions  ;  but,  without  listening 
to  them,  the  men  unanimously  headed  northward  at 
a  pace  which  very  soon  broke  into  a  run.  At  the 
same  time  many  of  them  shouted  loudly  that  it  was  all 
a  mistake,  that  the  men  concealed  in  the  grove  were 
Russians,  and  there  were  no  Japanese  there  at  all. 

These  optimists  continued  to  run,  however,  as  fast 
as  the  rest  of  us,  and,  as  they  ran,  they  raised  a  wild  cry 
of  "  Stoi !  Stoi !  "  ("  Stop  !  Stop  !  ")  evidently  with  the 
intention  of  getting  those,  whom  they  supposed  to  be 
their  own  men,  to  cease  firing. 

On  reaching  some  rising  ground  to  the  north,  we 
caught  sight,  in  a  plain  far  away  to  the  west,  of  some 
squadrons  of  unmistakably  Japanese  cavalry;  but  though 
they  were  as  different,  of  course,  from  the  Cossacks  as 
chalk  is  from  cheese,  some  of  our  men  joyfully  cried 


OUR  CAPTURE  315 

out,  "  Slava  Bogu  !  Nashe  !  Nashe  !  "  ("  Glory  be  to 
God  !  Ours  !  Ours  !  "),  and  clapped  their  hands  with 
delight. 

They  were  not  long  clapping  their  hands,  for  a  volley 
from  some  concealed  infantry  to  the  northward  soon 
drove  us  back  like  a  flock  of  sheep,  and  showers  of 
bullets  from  the  east  and  the  west  completed  our 
demoralisation.  One  man  who  fell  wounded,  cried  : 
"  Wait  for  me,  my  brothers,  dear"  ("  Bratsui  moi 
milenkiye  "),  but  we  left  him  lying  there. 

The  cry  of  "StOl!  Stoi !  "  was  now  taken  up  by 
almost  everybody — including,  I  think,  myself — and 
the  effect  was  inexpressibly  weird.  It  was  varied  by 
a  wild,  uncanny,  lugubrious,  inarticulate  wail,  which 
rose  and  fell  at  intervals  like  a  funeral  cry.  When  a 
child  in  Ireland  I  heard  one  night  the  unearthly  cry  of 
a  banshee  ;  and  on  this  Manchurian  hillside,  mingled 
with  the  despairing  shrieks  of  those  unhappy  soldiers, 
rushing  wildly  backwards  and  forwards,  lashed  by 
bullets,  maddened  by  fear,  I  heard  again  the  blood 
curdling  warning  of  that  messenger  of  death. 

On  getting  into  the  broad,  flat  valley  that  I  have 
already  alluded  to,  the  men  all  lay  down  instinctively 
along  two  shallow  furrows,  about  a  hundred  yards 
apart,  and,  as  I  stepped  over  one  of  these  lines  in 
order  to  get  inside,  a  man  discharged  his  rifle  close 
to  my  leg.  It  may  have  been  an  accident,  but  if  I 
had  been  hit  at  such  close  range  the  wound  would 
have  been  a  bad  one. 

The  Russians  now  began  firing,  although  they  could 
see  nothing,  while  the  Japanese  increased  their  fire 
because  they  could  see  us  perfectly.  Our  furrow  was 
no  protection  whatever,  even  if  the  Japanese  had  not 


316  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

occupied  higher  ground.  All  our  men  had  not  yet 
taken  their  places  on  the  ground  with  their  com- 
panions, and  many  of  them  were  still  wandering  aim- 
lessly at  large  in  the  space  between  the  two  furrows, 
when  suddenly  there  was  a  loud  report,  and  a  shrapnel 
shell  exploded  a  little  way  off.  At  the  same  instant 
about  a  hundred  men  simultaneously  bit  the  dust,  fall- 
ing down  as  suddenly  as  if  each  of  them  had  been 
shot  through  the  heart.  A  few  moments  later  a  good 
many  of  the  corpses  got  up  again  and  raced  swiftly, 
with  head  bent,  towards  one  or  other  of  the  absolutely 
unsheltered  furrows.  Of  those  that  remained  lying  on 
the  ground,  it  was  easy  to  distinguish  between  the 
quick  and  the  dead,  for  the  latter  lay  in  a  position  of 
absolute  abandon^  while  the  former  crouched  and 
looked  watchful. 

The  bullets  had  frightened  us,  but  the  shrapnel 
drove  the  fear  of  God  into  our  souls,  and  after  several 
shells  had  exploded  right  in  our  midst,  there  were  to 
be  seen  between  the  two  furrows  many  men  standing 
up  waving  their  hats  in  sign  of  submission.  Some 
mounted  their  busbies  on  the  points  of  their  bayonets 
and  agitated  them  furiously ;  but  evidently  the  Japanese 
wanted  more  unequivocal  tokens  of  surrender  than 
this,  for,  after  a  moment's  pause,  they  commenced 
shelling  us  harder  than  ever.  The  Russians  now  be- 
came panic-stricken.  Those  who  had  been  lying 
down  threw  away  their  arms  and  sat  up  in  such  a  way 
that  the  Japanese  could  not  fail  to  hit  them.  Some, 
who  must  have  lost  their  senses,  stood  up,  gazing 
stupidly  and  listlessly  at  the  bursting  shrapnel,  while 
the  bullets  whizzed  around  them  and  struck  the 
ground  at  their  feet. 


OUR  CAPTURE  317 

Somebody  shouted  to  the  bugler  to  blow  the 
"  Cease  fire,"  and,  lying  on  the  ground,  he  blew  for  all 
he  was  worth.  No  officer  ordered  the  blowing  of  the 
"  Cease  fire"  or  the  hoisting  of  the  white  flag.  The 
men  did  these  things  of  their  own  accord,  while  the 
officers  stood  by,  listlessly  expecting  death.  We  could 
see  that  at  the  other  furrow  conditions  were  much  the 
same  as  with  us.  The  soldiers  had  all  thrown  away 
their  arms  and  were  exposing  themselves  carelessly. 
Between  the  two  lines  many  soldiers,  who  still 
thoughtlessly  retained  their  rifles,  were  walking  about 
at  random  over  the  ridges  from  which  the  stumps  of 
last  year's  "  kiaoliang"  crop  still  projected.  One  of 
them  waved  a  large  white  flag,  but  still  the  Japanese 
made  no  sign,  and  their  fire  continued  unabated. 

There  now  arose  a  fierce  cry  of  "  Throw  away  your 
arms  !  "  and  some  soldiers,  not  content  with  having  got 
rid  of  their  rifles,  began  to  throw  away  their  cartridges 
and  their  belts. 

Even  at  this  stage  there  were  still  men  foolish  enough 
or  crazed  enough  to  shout :  "That's  not  the  Japanese 
at  all.  That's  our  artillery.  It's  all  a  mistake  !  Stoi ! 
Stoi!'" 

And  again  the  wild  wail  of  "Stoi!  Stoi !"  would 
rise  and  fall  like  the  waves  of  the  sea,  the  melancholy 
bugles  blowing  all  the  while  a  useless  "  Cease  fire  !  " 

I  am  convinced  that  the  men  who  led  this  cry  of 
•'  Stoi !  Stoi ! "  were  insane.  They  ran  around  like  wild- 
eyed  prophets  who  see  a  whole  world  rushing  to  per- 
dition ;  and  I  feared  that  they  would  undo  us  all. 

In  battle  the  Siberian  soldier  is  apt  to  become  un- 
hinged. At  Tah-shih-chiao  I  had  seen  nearly  a  dozen 
insane  foot-soldiers  brought  to  Mishchenko's  battery, 


3i8  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

and  one  of  them,  in  a  sudden  access  of  fury,  nearly 
routed  the  whole  staff  at  a  time  when  we  were  hard 
pressed  by  the  Japanese.  In  his  book  on  the  war, 
M.  Recouly  tells  a  horrible  story  of  a  staff  officer  who 
went  mad  at  the  battle  of  the  Shaho  ;  and  a  German 
correspondent  who  was  captured  with  another  detach- 
ment during  this  retreat  from  Mukden,  and  who  was 
my  fellow  prisoner  in  Japan,  where  he  showed  symp- 
toms of  great  nervous  excitement,  afterwards  shot 
himself. 

Close  by  was  lying  a  thin,  cold-faced  man  with  his 
face  wrapped  up  in  his  overcoat.  He  was  nursing  a 
minor  wound,  and  kept  ejaculating  to  himself  at  in- 
tervals the  word  "  Smert !  Smert !  "  (Death).  Suddenly 
he  rolled  over  like  a  person  turning  uneasily  in  his 
sleep,  but  nobody  suspected  that  anything  had  happened 
to  him  until  the  Japanese  came  up,  when  we  found 
that  he  was  dead.  A  burly  man,  standing  in  the  open 
field  about  fifty  yards  off,  collapsed  without  a  word, 
like  a  heap  of  old  clothes.  The  colonel  fell  from  his 
horse,  shot  through  the  brain,  whereupon  the  frightened 
animal  bolted. 

A  short  time  before,  some  of  his  officers  had  warned 
him  to  get  off  his  horse ;  but  he  had  answered,  almost 
in  the  words  of  the  heroic  Grand  Duke  Svatoslav 
Sgorevich,  that  there  was  no  disgrace  in  dying, 

Not  perceiving  at  first  that  he  had  been  shot  through 
the  head,  we  tore  open  the  breast  of  his  coat.  Around 
his  neck  and  inside  his  shirt  were  six  or  seven  most 
beautiful  religious  medals  and  miniature  "  ikoni "  of 
silver  and  gold  suspended  by  fine  chains  of  pure  gold. 

The  officers  were  not  in  the  least  intimidated  by  the 
colonels  fate,  for  they  continued    to    expose   them- 


OUR  CAPTURE  319 

selves  recklessly,  and  were  killed  or  wounded  one  after 
another.  Good  sharpshooters  were  evidently  picking 
them  off. 

These  happenings  froze  every  one  of  us  with  fear, 
and  there  were  continual  cries  of  "  Gospodee  Bozhe  !  " 
("O  Lord  God!") 

A  private  soldier,  evidently  the  spokesman  of  several 
others,  now  approached  me  on  his  hands  and  knees. 
His  face  was  streaming  with  tears  which  made  clean 
channels  down  his  dusty  cheeks,  and  he  implored  me  to 
go  out  to  the  Japanese  and  beg  them  to  cease  firing. 

11  You  are  English,  Batyushka  (little  father),"  said 
he,  "  and  the  Japanese  will  do  whatever  you  ask  them." 

I  refused,  and  told  him  to  ask  one  of  his  officers, 
but  he  said,  "We  have  no  officers.  These  officers 
don't  belong  to  our  regiment  at  all ; "  and  continued 
to  entreat  me  until  I  told  him  that  the  fire  would  cease 
directly. 

But  it  seemed  hours  before  it  ceased,  and  slowly  the 
awful  conviction  began  to  dawn  on  me  that  the  Japanese 
did  not  intend  to  give  quarter.  They  were,  after  all, 
the  bloodthirsty  pagans  they  had  been  represented  to 
be.  The  tales  which  the  Russians  had  told  of  their 
savagery  were  true.  They  had  got  too  many  prisoners 
on  their  hands  already.  Our  crowd  would  only  be  an 
incumbrance  to  them,  so  they  had  determined  to  shoot 
all  they  could  and  then  finish  off  the  rest  of  us  with 
the  bayonet.  I  was  going  to  have  convincing  proof 
of  Japanese  barbarity,  but  I  would  never  live  to  tell 
the  tale. 

Just  as  I  had  given  up  all  hope,  the  fire  suddenly 
ceased,  and  at  a  distant  point  on  our  right  a  long  line 
of  men  rose  out  of  the  ground  and  advanced  rapidly 


320  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

towards  us.  The  order  in  which  they  marched  and 
the  sunlight  shimmering  on  their  broad  sword-bayonets 
showed  that  they  were  soldiers,  and,  when  they  came 
nearer,  their  uniforms  and  their  small  size  proved  that 
they  were  Japanese. 

Onward  they  came,  just  as  I  had  often  seen  them 
years  before  on  the  Aoyama  parade-ground.  At  that 
time,  I  must  say,  I  was  no  more  impressed  by  their 
gorgeous  French  uniforms  than  if  they  had  been 
Orange  bandsmen  parading  the  streets  of  Belfast  on 
July  12  ;  for  what  were  they  but  copyists,  birds  in 
borrowed  plumage,  men  who  would,  like  all  Asiatics, 
fade  away  before  a  White  army  like  sinners  before  the 
wrath  of  God  ? 

But  now  it  was  all  different.  Fifty  thousand  dead 
had  made  that  uniform  historic.  A  years  fighting  had 
placed  them  among  Caesars  legions  and  the  Old  Guard 
of  Napoleon. 

I  had  seen  them,  in  mimic  fight  at  Kumamoto,  per- 
forming, under  the  eyes  of  the  Mikado,  feats  which 
every  foreign  military  attachd  present  declared  to  be 
impossible  in  real  warfare.  In  Manchuria  I  had  seen 
them  prove  these  foreign  critics  wrong  a  dozen  times 
over. 

I  was  now  to  get  a  closer  view  of  them  than  ever  I 
had  had  in  my  life.  On  they  came,  all  the  same  size, 
all  wonderfully  alike,  as  if  they  had  been  turned  out  of 
the  same  mould.  On  they  came,  with  quick,  elastic 
step,  until  I  could  distinguish  each  boyish  beardless 
face,  until  I  could  see  a  long  line  of  gleaming  white 
teeth  and  glittering  jet-black  eyes. 

It  was  a  dangerous  moment,  for  they  had  heard  as 
much  of  Russian  treachery  as  the  Russians  had  heard 


I 


OUR  CAPTURE  321 

of  Japanese  treachery,  and  some  imprudent  act  on  the 
part  of  a  crazy  Russian  soldier  might  have  cost  us  all 
our  lives.  From  the  ugly  gleam  in  their  slanting  eyes, 
from  the  angle  at  which  they  held  their  rifles  clutched, 
I  knew  that  they  were  prepared  for  anything.  But 
they  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  poor  Russkies,  who 
stood  all  the  time  as  calm  as  a  herd  of  cows. 

On  seeing  the  enemy  approach  to  disarm  them,  a 
great  weight  seemed  to  be  taken  off  their  minds,  and 
they  even  joked.  One  of  them  asked  me  if  I  was  a 
Japanese  officer,  and,  without  waiting  for  an  answer, 
expressed  his  candid  admiration  for  the  way  in  which 
I  had  done  it.  He  even  scowled  on  a  companion  on 
whose  face  he  fancied  he  could  detect  a  slight  shade  of 
disapprobation.  An  officer  consulted  me  about  the 
best  manner  of  surrendering  his  sword. 

"  Shall  I  throw  it  away,"  he  asked  genially,  "or 
give  it  up  ?  " 

A  second  officer  rushed  forward  to  ask  if  he  should 
continue  or  not  blowing  the  bugle  to  announce  the 
cesses  feu ;  but  on  this  last  point  my  expression  of 
opinion  was  not  waited  for,  as  everybody  roared 
simultaneously  at  the  bugler  to  blow  with  all  his  might. 
Also,  everybody  roared  at  everybody  else  to  continue 
waving  white  handkerchiefs.  There  seemed  to  be  an 
impression  abroad  that  if  anybody  ceased  for  a  moment 
to  wave  something  white,  all  was  lost. 

The  Japanese  were  now  within  forty  yards  of  us. 
They  were  preceded  by  a  breathless  little  non-com- 
missioned officer.  The  language  difficulty  remained, 
but  it  was  an  obstacle  which  was  easily  brushed 
aside. 

The  Russians  genially  shouted  "  Hodya  !  "  a  friendly 


3i2  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

term  they  apply  to  Chinamen  when  they  want  the  latter 
to  come  to  them.  The  Japanese  cried  out  in  more 
unexceptionable  Chinese  M  Li !  Li !"  ("Come  !  come  !") 
At  the  same  time  several  soldiers  rushed  towards 
us,  breathing  hard,  devouring  us  with  their  almond 
eyes,  still  uncertain  that  there  would  not  be  treachery. 

One  of  them  came  near  me,  evidently  taking  me  for 
an  officer,  but  went  away,  puzzled,  on  seeing  no  sword 
and  no  epaulettes.  Another,  more  fortunate,  rushed 
up  to  a  real  officer,  who  stood  close  by,  and  laid  his 
hand  on  the  hilt  of  the  latter's  sword.  This  officer 
(who,  by  the  way,  had  received  a  contusion  on  his 
head)  smiled,  and  cheerfully  allowed  the  Japanese  to 
take  the  weapon.  The  next  thing  I  was  aware  of  was 
that  the  enemy  had  closed  in  on  us  all  along  the  line, 
and  that  a  tremendous  amount  of  enthusiastic  hand- 
shaking was  going  on  between  them  and  their  captors. 
The  Russians  were  laughing  with  joy,  as  if  they  had 
met  long-lost  brothers,  and  were  trying  to  express  their 
feelings  by  the  frequent  repetition  of  such  "  pijin  " 
Russian  phrases  as  "  Shibka  Znakom  "  ("  Very  good 
friends  "),  etc.  The  Japanese  did  not  evidently  under- 
stand these  phrases,  but  their  genial  smile  was  worth 
a  bookful  of  polite  protestations. 

They  seemed  as  pleased  as  children  who  have  got 
new  toys,  and  made  no  objection  when,  with  eloquent 
gestures  expressive  of  extreme  thirst,  the  Russians 
went  down  on  their  knees  and  emptied  the  water- 
bottles  that  hung  at  the  waists  of  their  captors.  Mean- 
while several  mounted  officers  rode  in  among  us,  giving 
directions  to  the  men,  some  of  whom  thereupon  made 
signs  for  us  to  come  along  with  them,  while  others 
picked  up  our  guns  and  began  discharging  them  in  the 


OUR  CAPTURE  323 

air.  A  number  of  Chinese  coolies  afterward  appeared 
on  the  scene  and  followed  us,  dispassionately,  with 
numerous  bundles  of  surrendered  firearms. 

All  this  time  I  was  allowed  to  rush  about,  taking 
snapshots  with  my  two  cameras.  Even  the  Japanese 
privates  understood  perfectly  what  I  was  about,  and 
merely  said  to  one  another  "  Shashin-kikai  desu" 
("It's  a  kodak").  Judging  from  past  experience,  I  am 
afraid  that  it  would  not  have  been  so  safe  to  take 
photographs  had  I  been  with  the  Japanese  and  my 
captors  been  Russians. 

A  long  train  of  disarmed  captives,  we  now  wended 
our  way  slowly  between  two  rows  of  armed  Japanese, 
who  accompanied  us  toward  the  hill  from  which 
the  shrapnel  had  been  launched  and  on  which  a 
great  crowd  of  Japanese  now  stood  revealed.  Our 
captors  took  advantage  of  this  opportunity  to  deprive 
the  Russian  officers  of  their  binoculars  and  of  some 
other  objects  which,  under  the  rules  of  war,  they  were 
hardly  entitled  to  seize.  Spying  a  pair  of  fine  fur- 
lined  gloves  in  my  pocket,  a  young  private  briskly 
snatched  them  from  me,  checking  my  remonstrances 
by  threatening  gestures.  I  afterwards  heard  the 
Russian  officers  complain  to  the  Japanese  commander 
of  these  petty  thefts  ;  but  as  the  Russian  officers  could 
not  identify  the  culprits — for  the  Japs  looked  as  alike  as 
ducks'  eggs — and  as  the  Japanese  commander  sorrow- 
fully lamented  his  own  inability  to  do  so,  the  matter 
went  no  further. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  we  came  to  a  frozen  brook, 
from  which  the  Japanese  cut  chunks  of  ice  with  their 
bayonets  for  the  now  bayonetless  Russians,  who,  still 
tortured  by  thirst,  proceeded  to  eat  this  ice  greedily. 


324  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Then  we  moved  on  again  toward  a  gully  from  which 
the  frozen  stream  proceeded,  and  while  en  route  I 
casually  remarked  to  a  Japanese  soldier  who  was  walk- 
ing alongside  me  :  "  Anone  !  Anone  !  Watakushi-wa 
Igirisu-jin  desu"  ("I  say!  I  say!  I'm  an  Englishman "). 
On  hearing  this  remark  the  soldier  jumped  as  if  he 
had  been  shot  (he  was  the  party  that  had  " swiped" 
my  fur-lined  gloves),  and  regarded  me  with  bulging 
eyes.  He  could  not  have  been  more  astounded  had 
it  been  his  horse  which  had  spoken. 

"  Sayo  de  gozaimasu,"  I  continued  affably,  in 
Japanese,  which,  if  not  faultless,  was  at  least  intelli- 
gible. "  Watakushi-wa  shimbun  kisha  desu."  ("  Yes, 
I'm  a  newspaper  man.")  Whereupon  the  soldier,  after 
exchanging  a  few  hasty  words  with  his  sergeant, 
rapidly  disappeared. 

I  felt  as  pleased  and  gratified  at  the  outcome  of  this 
little  incursion  of  mine  into  the  Japanese  language  as 
a  magician  who  has  just  tested  a  new  and  mighty 
spell  with  very  satisfactory  results.  It  seemed  that,  in 
spite  of  his  colour,  the  tiny  Jap  had  more  respect  for 
the  Press  than  his  European  antagonist  ;  for  on  several 
occasions  when  I  had  told  Russian  privates  in  their 
own  language  that  I  was  a  correspondent,  their  faces 
remained  as  blank  and  expressionless  as  if  I  had 
informed  them  that  I  was  a  herbivorous  dinosaur. 

We  now  entered  a  long  narrow  gully  along  both 
lips  of  which,  Japanese  soldiers  were  ranged.  The 
Russian  privates  were  told  to  accommodate  them- 
selves as  best  they  could  in  the  flat  bottom  of  the 
gully,  while  their  superiors  were  requested  to  sit  down 
on  an  upward  break  in  the  side  of  the  glen,  at  the  top 
of  which  stood  a  group  of  Japanese  officers,  one  of 


OUR  CAPTURE  325 

whose  horses  was  held  by  a  Chinese  soldier  in  uniform. 
I  seated  myself  on  the  ground  and  began  to  write  up 
my  notes,  when  suddenly  a  youthful  Japanese  lieutenant 
appeared  before  me,  and  said  winningly  in  English  : 

"  You  are  an  English  newspaper  man,  I  understand. 
May  I  ask  if  you  represent  the  London  Times  ?  " 

I  had  at  first  a  wild  idea  of  saying  that  I  did  repre- 
sent the  Times,  judging  that  a  correspondent  of  that 
paper  would  be  more  favourably  received  in  Japanese 
circles  than  a  correspondent  of  the  New  York  Herald. 
But  I  sternly  repressed  this  inclination  and  told  the 
truth.  It  made  no  difference,  however.  The  young 
officer  professed  to  be  delighted. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  an  officer  in  your  own  country  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  Ah,  no  !  But  no  matter.  Come  here 
and  sit  with  the  Russian  officers.  We  shall  treat  you 
as  an  officer."  And  the  young  man  scurried  up  to  the 
top  of  the  hill  to  report. 

Next  came  the  leader  of  the  detachment,  Captain 
Takashima,  adjutant  of  the  Imperial  Guard.  He 
introduced  himself  to  me  gracefully,  and  began  filling 
a  large  beer  glass  for  me. 

"  Oh,  thank  you !  "  said  I  ;  "  but  you  are  giving  me 
too  much.     It's  white  wine,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  brandy.  You'll  need  it  all  after 
your  fatigues  in  Manchuria." 

The  Russian  officers  also  got  plenty  of  brandy,  and 
they  did  immediate  justice  to  it.  I  am  certain  that, 
just  then,  they  would  have  preferred  cold  water  or  tea, 
but  the  Japanese  is  firmly  convinced  that  at  no  hour 
of  the  day  or  night  will  a  Russian  object  to  brandy 
neat,  and  plenty  of  it. 

Then  came  Lieutenant  Shibouya,  also  an  adjutant 


326  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

of  the  Imperial  Guard — a  young  man  who  speaks 
French,  and  who  inquired  very  particularly  after  a 
Russian  officer  called  Ecke,  an  acquaintance  of  mine 
— in  fact,  we  had  been  together  on  the  Novi  Krai 
in  Port  Arthur — whom  he  had  met  under  a  flag  of 
truce  just  before  the  battle,  and  with  whom  he  had, 
soldier-like,  exchanged  vows  of  eternal  friendship  on 
that  occasion.  Several  of  these  meetings  occurred 
just  before  the  battle  of  Mukden.  One  took  place  in 
the  centre  of  the  line,  and  General  ZarubaiefPs  son 
was  one  of  the  Russian  delegates.  The  other  took 
place  on  the  right  flank  on  February  20,  and  most  of 
the  Russian  representatives — there  were  three  officers 
and  three  soldiers  on  each  side — were  Cossacks.  Both 
parties  had  brought  white  wine,  cooked  chicken,  and 
champagne  with  them,  and,  as  the  Japanese  spoke 
Russian  very  well,  a  most  enjoyable  hour  was  spent, 
and  everybody  on  both  sides  got  impartially  drunk 
and  was  photographed  in  that  condition. 

It  was  the  Japanese  who  had  suggested  these  social 
meetings,  and  I  think  that  they  had  no  ulterior  object 
in  view.  They  simply  wanted  to  show  that  they,  too, 
could  glory  and  drink  deep  even  with  the  men  whom 
they  were  going  in  a  few  days  to  attack  with  un- 
paralleled fierceness.  They  wanted  to  demonstrate  that, 
despite  the  disgraceful  stories  that  had  been  circulated 
anent  their  prudishness  and  their  Sunday-school 
sobriety,  they,  too,  were  human  and  could  sin  as 
heinously  as  anybody. # 

#  Since  the  above  was  written  I  find  that,  writing  in  a  mili- 
tary periodical  published  in  the  United  States,  an  American 
military  attache  takes  a  diametrically  opposite  view.  He 
regards  these  meetings  as  instances  of  supreme  Japanese  craft. 


OUR  CAPTURE  327 

Next  came  to  me  a  number  of  Japanese  war  corre- 
spondents. Mr.  Ota,  of  the  Jiji;  Mr.  Konishi,  of 
the  Asahi ;  Mr.  Saito,  of  the  Nippon,  and  others. 
Several  of  them  I  had  known  in  Japan,  and  one  I  had 
met  at  the  annual  manoeuvres  there.  He  explained  to 
me  how  much  Japan  had  profited  by  the  observations 
she  had  made  of  European  troops  and  their  arrange- 
ments during  the  Boxer  troubles,  and  was,  as  usual 
with  Japanese,  almost  apologetic  in  speaking  of  his 
country's  successes.  A  Japanese  who  boasts  of  his 
country's  warlike  prowess  is  to  me  inconceivable. 

Finally  I  met  Colonel  Hume,  the  British  attache, 
with  Kuroki's  army  ;  Colonel  Crowder,  the  American 
attache ;  Major  von  Etzel,  the  German  attache  (whom 
I  had  formerly  known  very  well  in  Tokio),  and  two 
other  continental  attaches.  All  these  gentlemen  were 
very  kind  to  me,  and  so,  I  must  say,  were  the  Japanese, 
who  pressed  on  me  a  limitless  amount  of  hard  biscuits. 
On  learning  that  I  was  English,  every  private  soldier 
seemed  to  consider  it  his  duty  to  give  me  a  box  of 
cigarettes,  until  finally  I  had  got  a  collection  which  it 
would  require  a  small  cart  to  remove.  I  appreciated 
this  kindness  all  the  more  when  I  discovered  how 
extremely  little  this  Japanese  column  had  brought 
with  them  in  the  shape  of  provisions  or  tobacco. 

One  of  the  Japanese  officers  spoke  Chinese.  Another 
spoke  Russian,  and  was  in  great  demand  as  an  in- 
terpreter. The  Russian  officers  made  much  use  of 
him,  addressing  him  in  loud  and  genial  tones,  such  as 
they  would  use  toward  an  equal.  The  Russian  soldiers 
were  also  quite  at  home,  being  ordered  about  by  a 
Japanese  private  who  had  been  in  Vladivostock,  I 
suppose,   and  who  spoke  Russian  ;  but  I    could   see 


328  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

from  the  first  that,  despite  the  courtesy  of  the  Japanese 
officers,  there  was  a  fundamental  difference  between 
the  Russian  estimate  of  a  prisoner's  status  and  the 
Japanese.  The  Russian  seemed  to  think  that  a 
prisoner  who  has  done  his  best  has  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of  and  can  hold  his  head  as  high  as  anybody  ; 
while  on  the  inscrutable  Japanese  countenance  I  could 
detect  a  shade  of  contempt  for  men  who  had  allowed 
themselves  to  be  taken  alive.  In  the  Russian  view  a 
prisoner  of  war  is  a  brave  man,  deserving  not  only  to 
be  treated  but  even  to  be  spoken  of  and  thought  of  as 
such  ;  in  the  view  of  the  Japanese  soldiery  in  general 
a  prisoner  is  a  disgraced  person  whom  the  rules  of  war 
save  from  the  indignity  of  discourteous  treatment,  but 
who  cannot  be  spoken  of  or  thought  of  save  with 
contempt. 

Holding  this  view,  the  Japanese  could  not  sometimes 
conceal  their  astonishment  at  the  free-and-easy  way  in 
which  the  Russians  bore  themselves,  at  the  loud 
manner  in  which  they  talked  and  laughed.  In  their 
opinion  a  prisoner  ought  to  hang  his  head,  to  speak  in 
a  low  and  broken  voice,  and,  if  he  had  any  spunk  left 
in  him  at  all,  to  avail  himself  of  the  first  favourable 
opportunity  to  commit  suicide. 

I  took  an  early  opportunity  of  hinting  that,  though 
awfully  sorry  to  leave  them  so  quickly,  I  did  not  mind 
if  they  sent  me  as  soon  as  possible  to  Newchwang,  the 
residence  of  the  nearest  consul ;  but  they  entreated  me 
to  consider  that  I  needed  a  rest  "after  my  fatigues  in 
Manchuria,"  and  said  that,  in  any  case,  politeness  re- 
quired me  to  call  on  General  Kuroki.  A  prisoner! 
Oh  !  no !  of  course  not ! 


CHAPTER  XV 

FACE    TO    FACE    WITH    KUROKI 

For  a  long  time  we  waited  in  that  valley,  and  I  took 
advantage  of  the  delay  to  get  the  senior  surviving 
Russian  officer  to  write  a  short  statement  in  my  note- 
book describing  my  part  in  the  affair,  that  is,  saying 
that  I  had  tried  my  best  to  join  the  retreating  army 
and  that  I  had  acted  with  correctitude  all  the  time  I  had 
been  with  the  party.  I  had  judged  it  well  to  do  this, 
as  the  Russians  are  extraordinary  people  for  inventing 
and  believing  stories  about  spies  and  traitors  ;  but  when 
the  Japanese  saw  me  thus  closeted,  so  to  speak,  with 
the  Russian  leader  they  sent  a  messenger  to  tell  me 
most  politely  that,  not  being  a  military  man,  I  was  not 
to  sit  with  the  Russian  officers,  but  was  to  come  up 
and  favour  the  Japanese  staff  with  the  light  of  my 
countenance.  I  obeyed  these  instructions,  and,  having 
done  so,  promptly  fell  asleep,  and  slept  for  several 
hours. 

Meanwhile  the  wounded  were  carried  in  and  attended 
to.  Then  the  Russian  officers  and  men  were  led  away. 
Some  of  the  men  were  fast  asleep  and  refused  to  get 
up.  I  saw  a  little  Jap  spend  about  half  an  hour  gently 
trying  to  rouse  one  big  giant  who  lay  snoring  on  the 
ground,  and  who,  even  when  aroused  and  set  upright 
on  his  huge  legs,  became  abusive  and  threatened  to 


33°  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

fight.  The  man  seemed  to  have  had  liquor,  but,  in 
spite  of  his  disorderly  conduct,  the  Japanese,  in  ac- 
cordance with  their  invariable  custom,  did  not  resort 
to  force.  They  simply  smiled,  and  seemed  to  regard 
the  proceedings  as  funny.  It  was  exactly  as  if  the  big 
grey-coated  giant  was  a  naughty  child. 

In  contrast  with  the  loud  and  burly  Russians,  the 
Japanese  officers  seemed  peculiarly  slight,  slim  and 
effeminate,  and  their  subdued  and  gentle  manner  greatly 
heightened  this  impression  of  fragility.  After  having 
been  for  a  long  time  accustomed  to  the  large  Russian 
grasp  I  thought  their  hands  remarkably  small  and  thin, 
and  everything  else  about  them  seemed  to  me  to  be  in 
proportion.  They  did  not  take  much  interest  in  the  spoils 
that  were  captured,  the  maps,  bottles,  horses,  etc.,  but  I 
saw  one  of  them  holding  for  a  long  time  in  his  slender 
hand  a  large  crucifix  and  gazing  at  it  long  and  curiously. 
One  of  our  officers  turned  out  to  be  a  lady.  She  was  a 
rather  hard-featured  woman  of  about  twenty-five  or 
twenty-six,  dressed  in  the  complete  uniform  of  a  sub- 
lieutenant of  infantry  and  with  her  hair  cut  short. 
There  was  not  the  slightest  fear  or  embarrassment 
about  her ;  she  seemed  to  be  perfectly  unconcerned, 
and  whenever  she  wanted  anything  she  asked  for  it 
in  a  voice  which,  although  a  woman's  voice,  had  that 
clear  decisive  timbre  in  it  which  bespeaks  the  habitude 
of  command. 

The  Japanese  showed  great  tact  in  dealing  with 
this  unusual  capture.  There  was  no  crowding  around 
her,  and  neither  by  look  nor  by  sign  did  any  one  betray 
the  fact  that  he  knew  her  secret.  Some  privates  gazed 
at  her  curiously  from  afar  off ;  but  though  really  very 
much  interested  in  her,  the  Japanese  officers  seemed 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  KUROKI         331 

to  regard  her  just  as  an  ordinary  sub-lieutenant.  At 
Kuroki's  headquarters,  however,  she  was  allowed  as 
much  privacy  as  possible. 

Not  being  a  very  strait-laced  people  themselves, 
the  Japanese  were  rather  tickled  than  otherwise  at 
this  discovery,  but  it  is  remarkable  how  well  they 
managed  on  their  side  to  eliminate  the  lady  peril  from 
the  field  of  military  operations — far  better  than  the 
English  succeeded  in  doing  in  South  Africa  or  the 
Americans  in  Cuba.  Even  lady  nurses  were  not  allowed 
to  mix  among  the  wounded  as  freely  as  on  the  Russian 
side,  and  I  hope  I  am  not  reflecting  in  any  way  on  the 
Russian  Red  Cross  Sisterhood  as  a  whole  when  I  say 
that  there  were  to  be  found  among  them  women  who 
were  unworthy  of  the  robe  which  they  wore.  These 
women  were  seldom  professional  nurses — they  generally 
obtained  the  sacred  robe  of  a  Sister  of  Charity  in 
order  to  be  able  to  follow  some  influential  lover  in  the 
field. 

I  suppose  there  were,  on  the  Russian  side,  cases  of 
pure  women  dressing  as  men,  in  order  to  follow  their 
husbands  and  lovers,  for  such  a  course  would  strongly 
recommend  itself  to  the  romantic-minded  Russian 
damsel.  I  dare  say  that  the  Japanese  will,  with  their 
usual  care,  collect  all  the  facts  bearing  on  this  subject, 
and  the  collection  ought  to  be  very  interesting.  In 
some  cases  the  girls  passed  for  some  time  as  youthful 
soldiers,  until  the  fear  of  the  public  and  compulsory 
bath  at  the  Japanese  quarantine  station  forced  them 
to  disclose  their  secret.  In  other  cases  ladies  whose 
lovers  had  been  captured  rode  into  the  Japanese  lines 
and  surrendered,  so  as  to  be  able  to  rejoin  their  beloved 
ones  in  Matsuyama. 


332  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Each  of  the  Russian  privates  had  now  fixed  to  his 
shoulder-strap  a  tag,  such  as  the  express  companies  in 
America  fix  to  your  luggage,  and  the  whole  batch  was 
sent  off  to  Kuroki's  headquarters  some  eight  or  nine 
miles  distant.  I  was  told  that  I  would  be  sent  with 
the  next  batch.  "  We  expect  to  capture  another  small 
force,"  said  Captain  Takashima,  "  and  you'll  be  sent 
on  to  headquarters  with  them." 

I  took  advantage  of  this  opportunity  to  speak  with 
the  captain  on  a  confidential  matter.  With  bated 
breath,  I  confessed  that  I  had  on  my  person  a  loaded 
revolver  and  ammunition.  I  was  willing  to  surrender 
it,  but  the  captain  laughingly  declined  to  insist  on  my 
disarmament, 

II  Keep  everything  you  have  got,"  said  he  cheerfully, 
"  You  are  a  correspondent,  and  we  don't  want  to  take 
anything  from  you." 

And  as  a  matter  of  fact  that  loaded  revolver  was 
never  taken  from  me.  I  also  kept  a  Russian  map, 
and,  more  important  still,  a  list  which  I  had  compiled 
in  my  notebook  of  the  Russian  forces  in  the  field,  for 
I  was  never  searched  even  in  the  most  cursory  manner, 
and  never  questioned  as  to  what  documents  I  had  in 
my  possession. 

The  other  "small  force"  of  which  Captain  Taka- 
shima spoke  was  duly  captured,  but,  nevertheless,  I 
was  eventually  sent  on  alone  in  charge  of  a  little 
Imperial  guardsman  with  red  riding  breeches  and  a 
horse  which  he  and  I  rode  by  turns.  He  was  so 
polite  that,  every  time  I  dismounted,  he  protested  that 
I  had  not  remained  in  the  saddle  long  enough,  and  he 
was  hardly  a  moment  astride  the  horse's  back  before 
he  wanted  to  get  off  in  order  to  make  place  for  me. 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  KUROKI    m 

In  fact,  we  spent  so  much  time  trying  to  persuade  one 
another  to  mount  that  there  was  serious  danger  of  our 
never  reaching  our  destination  at  all.  He  allowed  me 
to  fall  behind  or  to  gallop  on  in  advance  just  as  I  liked, 
so  that  I  was  in  mortal  fear  that  I  would  accidentally 
escape  and  get  the  poor  fellow  into  trouble.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  I  would  probably  have  tried  to  utilise 
my  knowledge  of  the  country  in  order  to  escape  here 
or  afterward  on  the  way  to  Dalny,  had  it  not  been  that 
my  guards  were  invariably  such  kind,  confiding  fellows 
that  I  had  not  the  heart  to  abuse  their  confidence. 
Several  other  things  cooled  my  ardour  for  escape. 
Firstly,  I  might  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Chinese  and 
be  tortured  to  death.  Secondly,  I  might,  if  captured 
by  individual  Japanese  or  Russian  scouts,  be  killed  by 
them  for  the  sake  of  the  large  sum  of  money  which  I 
carried.  Thirdly,  I  stood  a  fairly  good  chance,  even 
if  I  reached  the  Russian  lines,  of  being  shot  at  by 
some  of  the  outposts  before  I  could  explain  myself. 

The  country  through  which  we  passed  was  hilly, 
and  near  the  end  of  our  journey  we  crossed  a  river. 
Litde  Red  Riding  Breeches  asked  me  the  name  of 
that  river,  and  I  replied,  "  the  Liao-ho,"  at  which 
answer  he  seemed  mightily  pleased,  for  he  had  evi- 
dently got  instructions  to  lead  me  backward  and 
forward  in  such  a  way  that  I  would  quite  lose  all 
sense  of  direction.  Of  course  it  was  not  the  Liao-ho 
at  all. 

Sifontai,  or  Kuroki's  village,  as  I  had  better  call  it, 
for  I  believe  that  the  Japanese  purposely  gave  us  the 
wrong  name,  was  a  very  small  and  a  very  much  over- 
crowded hamlet,  in  which  there  was  not  enough  accom- 
modation   for   troops,    much    less   prisoners.     It   was 


334  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

surrounded  by  a  cordon  of  guards,  one  of  whom 
challenged  us,  but  allowed  us  to  proceed  on  my 
guide  giving  the  password.  I  was  at  once  brought 
to  the  principal  house  in  the  village,  the  residence  of 
General  Kuroki's  staff. 

In  the  outer  room  some  clerks  were  working.  In 
the  inner  room  General  Fuji,  the  chief  of  staff,  received 
me  very  affably  and  offered  me  tea.  He  said  that  as 
the  Japanese  had  derived  much  moral  support  from 
England  and  America  he  could  not  but  regard  me — at 
one  and  the  same  time  British  subject  and  American 
newspaper  man — as  doubly  a  friend.  I  so  shocked 
General  Fuji  by  bluntly  asking  him  if  I  were  a  prisoner 
that,  for  a  moment,  he  was  unable  to  speak.  "  Why, 
didn't  I  tell  you  that  you're  our  guest  ?  "  he  cried,  as 
soon  as  he  had  recovered  his  voice  ;  "but,"  he  added 
benignantly,  "you  need  to  have  a  rest,  a  long  rest,  in 
Japan." 

And  in  these  words  I  read  my  fate. 

I  was  then  sent  to  a  Chinese  house,  in  which  I 
found  the  Russian  officers  who  had  been  captured  with 
me.  The  house  had  previously  been  occupied  by 
soldiers  of  the  Imperial  Guard,  and  we  slept  among 
them  that  night,  packed  together  like  herrings  in  a 
barrel.  They  were  clean  lads,  however,  far  cleaner 
than  any  Russian  privates,  cleaner,  even,  than  the 
average  Englishman,  and  they  were  very  accommo- 
dating, too,  for  one  of  them  gave  me  a  blanket  to  cover 
myself  with. 

The  next  morning  I  woke  up  late,  to  find  everything 
in  an  awful  muddle.  The  orderlies  of  the  Russian 
officers,  who  had  slept  three  deep  on  top  of  one 
another  out  in  the  porch,  were  continually  rushing  in 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  KUROKI  335 

with  the  object  of  making  tea  for  their  masters  at  a 
fire  which  burned  on  the  floor,  and  the  Japanese 
soldiers  were  continually  putting  them  out  again. 
The  Russian  officers  could  do  nothing  without  the 
assistance  of  their  "  vestavoi,"  while  the  Japanese  guard 
had  had  orders  to  admit  no  privates  to  that  room,  and 
were  determined  to  enforce  those  orders. 

Some  orderlies  solved  the  difficulty  by  making  the 
tea  outside  and  handing  it  through  the  window,  but 
the  bawling  out  of  orders,  which  were  not  obeyed,  and 
the  wails  of  hapless  "  vestavoi"  seized  at  the  doorway 
with  steaming  teapots  were  heartrending  and  ludicrous. 
A  young  soldier  of  the  Guards  who  slept  beside  me, 
and  who  turned  out  to  be  a  Greek  Christian,  greatly 
amused  his  comrades,  on  awakening,  by  reading  them 
extracts  from  a  Russo-Japanese  phrase  book  which  he 
had  captured.  The  humour  of  the  situation  can  readily 
be  imagined  on  the  discovery  that  some  of  the  ques- 
tions asked  were  : — "  Where  is  the  road  to  Kobe  ?  " 
M  Who  is  the  Governor  of  Osaka  fortress  ?  "  "  What 
is  the  strength  of  the  enemy  in  Matsuyama  ?  "  "  Has 
the  Mikado  fled  to  Nikko  or  to  Aomori  ? "  The 
Japanese  Greek  Christian  laughed  so  long  and  so 
heartily  at  these  unconscious  witticisms  that  I  thought 
his  little  looped-up  eyes  would  never  open  again. 
Evidently  he  had  no  great  belief  in  the  political 
infallibility  of  his  co-religionists. 

Meanwhile  we  were  very  much  cramped  for  room, 
and  I  decided  to  go  out  into  the  yard,  where  I  found  a 
considerable  number  of  Japanese  guardsmen  and  a 
sprinkling  of  Russian  officers. 

Thanks  to  the  kindness  of  one  of  the  guardsmen  I 
again   enjoyed  the  luxury  of  a  wash,  after  which    I 


336  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

returned  to  the  house  and  had  some  tea  and  hard 
biscuit,  on  which  spare  diet  I  lived  for  fully  a  week 
afterward,  practically,  in  fact,  until  I  reached  Dalny. 

Next  day  more  officers  and  soldiers  came  in,  and 
the  difficulty  for  the  Japanese  was  to  know  where  to 
put  them.  Some  were  taken  in  hand  by  a  rough- 
looking  Japanese  private,  who  spoke  Russian  and  had 
evidently  been  a  coolie  of  some  kind  in  Siberia.  He 
ordered  them  into  an  empty  outhouse,  and  told  them 
they  could  sleep  on  the  floor.  The  poor,  long-bearded 
greycoats  followed  him  meekly  and  made  no  remark. 
The  main  body  was  turned  loose  in  a  field  behind 
General  Kuroki's  house.  Then  the  Japanese  soldiers 
were  all  removed  from  our  cabin  and  the  place  given 
over  to  us  entirely.  A  few  "vestavoi"  were  allowed 
to  attend  us,  and  it  was  touching  to  see  the  affectionate 
way  in  which  these  poor  lads  waited  on  their  masters, 
although  the  common  disaster  which  had  overwhelmed 
them  might  have  led  them  to  assert  their  independence. 
The  Japanese  privates  seemed,  by  the  way,  greatly 
amused  at  the  zeal  with  which  the  Russian  privates 
discharged  all  sorts  of  menial  duties  for  their  officers. 
To  them  it  seemed  that  their  big  Russian  antagonists 
were  more  like  nurses  than  anything  else,  for  in  the 
Japanese  army  all  menial  work  is  discharged  by 
11  styohe,"or  military  coolies. 

The  Japanese  officers  often  bring  their  own  servants 
with  them,  and  in  any  case  the  simplicity  of  their  life 
and  of  their  food  is  such  that  their  orderlies  do  not 
have  to  spend  more  than  half  an  hour  every  day  in 
what  I  may  call  personal  menial  attendance  on  them. 
The  Russian  officer,  on  the  other  hand,  is  always  shout- 
ing for  his  "vestavoi, "and  his  "vestavoi*  "spends all  the 


I 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  KUROKI         337 

day  and  often  a  considerable  part  of  the  night,  cooking 
for  him,  opening  bottles  for  him,  cleaning  his  clothes, 
etc.  In  Russia  men  are  cheap,  in  Japan  the  soldier  is  a 
precious  object.  Japan  emerged  in  thirty  years  from  the 
intensely  pleasant,  intensely  impracticable,  old  clan  sys- 
tem, in  which  every  "daimyo"  and  "samurai"  was  attended 
by  crowds  of  retainers.  Russia  is  still  in  the  patriarchal 
stage.  The  soldiers  are  little  children,  the  officers  are 
their  "  fathers/'  Despite  the  *  'emancipation  of  the  serfs," 
the  agreeable,  old  Biblical  slave  system  still  really  sur- 
vives in  Russia,  and  it  will  require  a  whole  series  of 
military  disasters,  and  perhaps  a  great  national  upheaval, 
to  do  away  with  it  completely.  But  why  should  you 
pity  Russia  for  the  pain  this  revolution  will  cause  her  ? 
Do  you  think  that  it  cost  the  "  daimyo  "  of  Japan  no 
pain  to  leave  their  moated  "  yashki,"  to  disband  their 
faithful  "samurai,"  to  sink  from  gods  to  common  men  ? 

On  this  day  (Sunday)  I  was  allowed  to  have  an 
interview  with  Kuroki,  the  leader  whose  death  by 
dysentery  I  announced  in  October  1904  in  thelVew  Yoj'k 
Herald 'on  the  authority  of  a  Japanese  prisoner.  Dressed 
in  a  plain  black  uniform,  this  great  Asiatic  captain 
lived  in  a  small  bare  room  at  the  back  of  the  build- 
ing occupied  by  his  staff,  and  when  I  entered  he  was 
seated  cross-legged  on  the  "  kang,"  just  as  if  he  were 
sitting  on  the  "tatami"  of  his  little  white  lath-and-paper 
dwelling  at  home.  One  or  two  small  rectangular  trunks, 
evidently  containing  clothing  and  personal  effects,  lay 
beside  him  on  the  "  kang,"  while  his  sword,  overcoat, 
and  hat  hung  on  the  wall.  On  a  small  Chinese  table 
beside  him  lay  a  Japanese  map,  which  he  had  been 
apparently  studying. 

The  generals  appearance  was  strictly  in   keeping 


338  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

with  the  severity  of  his  surroundings.  He  was  a 
medium-sized  unpretentious  gentleman,  with  a  greyish 
moustache  and  thick  greyish  hair.  He  greeted  me 
very  naturally  and  pleasantly,  and,  after  the  Japanese 
custom,  continued  smiling  all  the  time  I  remained  with 
him.  He  asked  me  to  excuse  him  for  being  seated,  as 
he  was  in  his  stockinged  feet ;  and  he  talked  only  in 
Japanese  through  an  interpreter,  Captain  T.  Okada,  I 
think.  As  his  back  was  to  the  window,  I  could  not 
get  a  very  good  view  of  his  face,  but  I  carried  away 
with  me  the  impression  of  a  plain,  firm,  grey-toned, 
friendly  physiognomy,  that  could,  however,  be  terrible 
if  it  liked.  It  was  unmistakably  military,  but  in  the 
crowds  at  Shimbashi  Station  or  Uyeno  Park  it  would 
have  attracted  no  special  attention.  You  could  only 
say,  "  That's  some  officer,"  but  it  might  be  a  major,  a 
captain  in  the  navy,  or  somebody  connected  with  the 
transport  service.  Yet  this  unimposing  man  dwarfs 
all  the  ancient  heroes  of  Japan — Nobunaga,  Hideyoshi, 
I  eyasu,  Kato  Kiy  emasu,  K  onishi,  and  all  the  rest  of  them. 
If  Japan's  religious  customs  do  not  alter  he  will  yet 
be  a  god  like  I  eyasu,  like  the  Soga  brothers.  Other 
countries  look  back  through  the  mists  of  years  for  their 
greatest  captain.  In  the  person  of  General  Kuroki, 
Dai- Nippon  has  got  hers  in  the  flesh  to-day.  He  may 
not  be  Japan's  greatest  general,  but  Europe  will  never 
forget  his  name,  for  he  is  the  first  Yellow  leader  who 
has  beaten  white  men  with  modern  weapons. 

The  general  did  not  ask  me  any  leading  questions 
regarding  the  Russians  (he  seemed  to  leave  all  this 
sort  of  thing  to  the  astute  Fuji,  to  whom,  however,  I 
refused  to  give  any  information  that  could  do  harm  to 
Kuropatkin),  but  he  wanted  to  know  how  long  I  had 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  KUROKI         339 

been  with  them.     "  Since  the  outbreak  of  the  war," 
I  replied. 

"  Then,"  said  he,  casting  a  keen  glance  at  my 
Russian  coat,  hat,  and  top-boots,  "  you  have  been  so 
long  with  them  that  you  have  almost  become  a  Russian 
yourself — so  far  at  least  as  your  dress  is  concerned." 

I  explained  that  there  had  been  no  other  kind  of 
warm  clothing  to  be  had  in  Mukden,  and  that,  besides, 
it  was  better  for  me  to  wear  Russian  garments,  since 
if  I  looked  too  foreign,  I  might  have  had  frequent  diffi- 
culties with  sentinels  and  patrols. 

He  laughingly  admitted  the  truth  of  this.  When  I 
asked  him  what  he  thought  of  the  Russian  generals 
he  first  turned  the  question  by  a  compliment.  "If 
they  were  as  brave  as  the  correspondents,"  he  said, 
"  they  might  do  better." 

I  thanked  him  on  the  part  of  the  correspondents, 
but  remarked  that  I  thought  the  Russian  generals  were 
often  too  brave  and  exposed  themselves  too  recklessly. 
I  mentioned  the  case  of  Count  Keller,  who  had  been 
killed,  and  of  Generals  Mishchenko,  Rennenkampf, 
Tserpitsky  and  others  who  had  been  wounded. 

General  Kuroki  did  not  seem  impressed,  however. 
He  thought  that  the  Russian  generals  were  none  of 
them  capable  men. 

"  But  hasn't  some  one  of  them  given  you  more 
trouble  than  the  others  ?  "  I  asked. 

"No,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "They're  all  on  the 
same  level." 

He  admitted,  however,  that  the  Russian  soldiers 
were  good  fighters.  Like  General  Fuji,  he  seemed 
anxious  to  know  if  the  Russians  were  aware  of  the 
domestic  troubles  in  their  own  country,  and  laughed 


340  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

pleasantly  when  he  heard  that  they  were.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  Japanese  had  taken  particular  pains  to  keep 
the  Russians  well  informed  on  this  point.  For  some 
time  they  used  to  sendsoldiers  with  a  flag  of  truce  and 
a  bundle  of  literature  regarding  the  trouble  in  Russia 
to  places  near  the  Russian  outposts  ;  but,  as  after  a 
while  the  Russians  threatened  to  fire  on  any  one  who 
came  on  such  an  errand,  other  means  for  the  propa- 
gation of  information  were  resorted  to. 

When  I  asked  General  Kuroki  if  the  Japanese  would 
be  satisfied  with  the  capture  of  Mukden  and  if  there 
was  any  chance  of  the  war  ever  coming  to  an  end,  he 
paused  for  a  moment,  like  a  man  in  deep  thought,  and 
then  answered  impressively  :  "  The  war  must  go  on." 
In  fact,  the  impression  made  on  me  at  that  time  fr- 
ail the  Japanese  officers  and  men  was  that  they  would 
mutiny  almost  if  the  war  were  brought  to  a  termination 
before  the  capture  of  Harbin  and  Vladivostock. 
Instead  of  being  tired,  they  seemed  to  be  only  warming 
to  their  work. 

It  is  a  Japanese  custom  to  give  presents  of  trifling 
value  to  visitors,  and,  on  my  leaving  his  room,  General 
Kuroki  presented  me  with  a  box  of  Turkish  cigarettes. 
I  then  returned  to  my  prison,  where  I  was  visited 
during  the  rest  of  the  day  by  a  number  of  very  sympa- 
thetic Japanese  correspondents  and  English-speaking 
Japanese  civilians  employed  at  Kurokis  headquarters 
as  censors  and  so  forth. 

As  I  have  already  intimated,  there  was  very  little 
to  eat  or  drink,  for  the  Japanese  carry  few  luxuries 
with  them,  so  that  they  can  never  display  anything 
approaching  the  lavish  hospitality  of  the  Russians,  but 
they  seemed  to  do  all  they  could  to  entertain  us. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

BACK    TO    LIAOYANG 

On  Monday,  March  13,  I  was  told  to  get  ready  to 
start  in  an  hour  for  Dalny.  I  did  not  take  five 
minutes  to  get  ready,  for  I  had  no  packing  to  do,  and 
at  daybreak  I  set  out  with — or,  rather,  "  in  custody 
of" — a  young  soldier  called  T.  Hara.  Hara  San, 
who  speaks  English  well,  was  a  delightful  travelling 
companion,  and  possessed  in  an  exceptional  degree 
the  Japanese  qualities  of  tact,  good  humour  and  physical 
endurance.  He  said  to  me:  "Sir,  you  will  be  much 
civilised  when  you  reach  Dalny,"  meaning  that  I  would 
have  an  opportunity  of  getting  a  good  wash,  and  I 
thanked  him  for  this  piercing,  but  well-intentioned, 
comment  on  my  personal  appearance. 

During  our  little  trip  to  Dalny  Private  Hara  taught 
me  some  Japanese,  and  discussed  all  sorts  of  subjects 
with  me,  from  the  merest  trifles  to  the  most  abstruse 
problems  of  philosophy,  and  his  smile,  his  "aliveness" 
and  his  fine  teeth  were  my  entertainment  all  the  way. 
In  sooth,  he  was  a  very  engaging  little  fellow,  and  if 
Japanese  privates  are  all  like  him  I  am  afraid  that 
there  will  soon  be  no  chance  for  us  poor  whites  on  the 
face  of  this  planet. 

Like  all  Japanese,  Hara  was  entirely  under  the  Anglo- 
American  influence,  save  in  the  matter  of  religion. 


342  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

"  None  of  us,  Japanese,  believe  in  religion,"  he  said, 
proudly  ;  "  we  believe  neither  in  a  God  nor  in  a  here- 
after. In  our  funeral  services,  it  is  true,  we  address 
the  spirits  of  the  dead  as  if  they  were  present,  but  that 
is  only  our  politeness.  Besides,"  he  added  cheerfully, 
a  question  twinkling  in  his  eye,  "  no  educated  European 
or  American  now  believes  in  Christianity." 

I  quote  him  because,  from  a  four  years'  experience 
of  Japan,  I  am  convinced  that  he  speaks  not  only  for 
himself,  but  for  the  more  advanced  portion  of  his 
nation.  Of  few  things  is  intellectual  Japan  so  perfectly 
certain  as  that  religion  is  merely  an  old  wife's  tale  ; 
and  if  an  earnest  man  from  Oxford  or  Maynooth  thinks 
he  makes  a  good  impression  on  a  Japanese  philosopher 
by  confessing  that  he  believes  in  Christianity  he  errs 
grievously  ;  in  fact,  he  might  as  well  seek  to  make  an 
impression  on  his  Japanese  friend  by  assuring  him 
that  he  is  one  of  an  ancient  band  of  believers  who 
hold  that  the  earth  is  flat.  In  short,  the  Japanese 
think  that  what  they  regard  as  the  extraordinary 
delusion  about  Christianity  is,  perhaps,  the  one  weak 
point  in  the  European  intellect. 

Hara  said  that  the  Japanese  generals  had  no  religion, 
and,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  that  settled  it.  He 
told  me  that  there  were  Buddhist  and  Shinto  priests 
in  the  army,  some  attached  to  the  forces  in  the  capacity 
of  chaplains,  some  wearing  the  uniforms  of  private 
soldiers  which  they  temporarily  discarded  for  the 
sacerdotal  robes  whenever  the  necessity  arose,  but 
that,  though  the  officers  attended  their  services,  they 
' 'did  not  believe  in  them." 

This  did  not,  however,  prevent  these  officers  from 
encouraging  the   simpler   soldiers  to  wear  Buddhist 


BACK  TO  LI AO YANG  343 

amulets  and  phylacteries,  so  that  in  no  way,  even  in 
the  faith  in  supernatural  assistance,  would  the  Russians 
have  the  advantage  of  them.  The  Japanese  have 
already  adopted  the  Russian  "  bashleek,"  and  in  the 
Russian  Prisoners'  Quarters,  where  I  was  afterwards 
incarcerated,  at  Shizuoka  I  heard  squads  of  soldiers 
engaged  in  a  cheering  drill  a  la  Russe.  If  Christianity 
is  found  to  increase  the  fanaticism  of  the  soldier  and 
to  lessen  his  fear  of  death  the  Japanese  will  also 
adopt  it. 

A  long  residence  in  the  Far  East  is  calculated  to 
shake  one's  faith  in  Christianity.  You  find  non- 
Christian  tribes  and  nations  contain  about  the  average 
number  of  respectable  citizens.  If  you  bring  forward 
the  good  points  of  Christianity,  the  educated  heathen 
will  promptly  dig  up  something  of  the  same  kind  out 
of  Buddhist  or  Confucian  theology.  The  sight  of  the 
Russian  prisoners  saying  their  prayers  three  times  a 
day  amid  a  circle  of  their  polite  but  incredulous  con- 
querors tempts  you  to  believe  that  Christianity  is, 
after  all,  a  superstition,  and  that  the  agnostic  Japanese 
are  right. 

Soon  after  leaving  Kuroki's  village  we  passed  a  long 
train  of  transport  carts  driven  by  Chinamen,  who 
grinned  at  me  and  shouted  sarcastically,  "  Ta  ta  de 
kapitan  !  "  ("  Great  captain  !"),  and  "  Cush  cush  mayo  !  " 
("  No  food  !  "),  whereupon  little  Hara  got  angry  and 
threatened  them  with  his  rifle,  shouting  at  the  same 
time  as  loud  as  he  could,  M  Yingwa-Rin !  Yingwa- 
Rin  !  "  ("  He's  an  Englishman  !  He's  an  Englishman  ! ") 
We  also  passed  long  trains  of  Japanese  pack-horses 
led  by  "styohe,"  or  military  coolies,  from  whom,  some- 
times, but  seldom,  a  single  abrupt,  dispassionate  shout 


344  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

of  "  Russky  !  "  proceeded.  At  first  Hara  used  to  stop 
to  explain  to  these  good  people  that  they  had  made  a 
great  mistake  in  calling  me  "  Russky,"  but  after  he  had 
done  so  for  the  two  hundredth  time  or  so,  he  got  tired 
and  even  assented,  if  silence  meant  assent,  to  the 
people  who  asked  him  if  I  was  not  a  Russian  "  shoko  " 
(officer). 

The  first  dtape,  or,  as  the  Japanese  call  it,  com- 
munication station,  was  at  a  place  called  Tudyatun, 
where  we  had  dinner.  The  commandant  of  this  etape 
asked  me  if  it  was  true  that,  just  before  the  battle,  a 
number  of  wounded  Japanese  had  been  bound  with 
ropes  and  dragged  through  the  streets  of  Mukden,  in 
order  to  make  the  Chinese  believe  that  the  Russians 
were  winning.  I  said  that  I  only  knew  of  some 
unwounded  Japanese  having  been  marched  through 
Mukden,  and  that  they  were  not  bound  and  not  ill- 
treated  along  the  route  ;  but  I  am  astonished  that, 
with  tales  like  these,  told  them  by  constitutionally 
inaccurate  Chinamen  and  accepted  as  gospel  by  the 
General  Staff,  the  Japanese,  who  took  me  for  a 
Russian,  did  not  indulge  in  any  hostile  demonstration. 
I  am  afraid  that  things  would  have  been  different  in 
any  other  country,  but  it  is  not  impossible  that  the 
Japanese  themselves  would  behave  differently  in  case 
they  were  losing.  It  is  to  the  credit  of  the  Russians, 
on  the  other  hand,  that,  despite  their  uninterrupted 
succession  of  defeats,  they  treated  Japanese  prisoners 
with  unvarying  kindness. 

All  the  way  down  the  Liaotung  peninsula  and  all 
the  way  from  Hiroshima  to  Shizuoka  I  was  taken  for 
a  Russian,  but  not  even  once  was  an  angry  remark 
addressed  to  me  or  an  angry  glance  cast  at  me,  either 


BACK  TO  LIAOYANG  345 

by  the  Chinese,  who  have  suffered  so  much  at  the 
hands  of  the  Russians,  or  by  the  Japanese.  Sometimes 
Japanese  soldiers,  taking  me  for  an  officer,  saluted  me 
respectfully  ;  and  once,  while  standing  at  the  gate  of 
my  Japanese  prison,  a  little  girl  of  about  three  years 
of  age  was  induced  by  some  companions  a  year  or  two 
older  to  toddle  forward  and  present  me  with  a  bough 
of  cherry-blossoms. 

After  leaving  Tudyatun  I  passed  further  trains  of 
Chinese  transport  carts,  the  Celestial  drivers  of  which 
grinned  at  me  with  one  accord,  and  shouted,  "  Poo  ko 
bin!"  a  Chinese  term  which  really  means  "cannot 
sell,"  but  which  seems  to  be  used  by  the  Japanese  and 
the  Chinese  in  their  employ  as  the  equivalent  of  "You 
are  powerless.     You  cannot  do  anything." 

Some  of  them  shouted  "  Kupetz ! "  the  Russian 
word  for  "merchant,"  whereupon,  sooner  than  be 
taken  for  a  camp  follower,  I  resumed  the  brass- 
buttoned,  double-breasted  Russian  coat  which  had 
previously  caused  me  to  be  mistaken  for  an  officer. 

Midway  between  Tudyatun  and  Kandalusan  I  came 
across  a  little  village  occupied  by  military  coolies,  who 
invited  me  into  their  best  house,  offered  me  such 
simple  food  as  they  had  got,  and  were  very  inquisitive, 
friendly,  and  sympathetic.  Most  of  them  introduced 
themselves  to  me  in  a  state  of  nature,  for  they  had  just 
been  having  a  bath  in  a  new  bath-house  which  they 
had  erected ;  but  as  they  themselves  did  not  seem  to 
realise  that  there  was  anything  improper  in  their  lack 
of  attire  I  for  my  part  did  not  manifest  any  surprise. 

All  morning  we  passed  long  strings  of  pack  animals  led 
by  "styohe,"  alternating  with  longer  strings  of  Chinese 
carts  driven  by  Chinamen  ;  and  at  noon  a  faint  sound 


346  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

of  cannonading,  away  to  the  northward,  showed  us 
that  Kuroki  was  again  righting,  as  I  had  fully  expected, 
for,  on  the  morning  on  which  I  left  him,  his  headquarters 
had  been  in  a  state  of  feverish  activity. 

Passing  on  this  day  a  collection  of  dug-outs,  Hara 
began  calculating  the  force  of  Russians  it  had  con- 
tained. He  also  used  every  opportunity  of  enlarging 
his  vocabulary  of  English  military  terms,  taking  care 
to  jot  down  in  his  notebook  every  unfamiliar  word 
that  he  heard  me  use.  As  I  was  equally  keen,  how- 
ever, on  enlarging  my  Japanese  vocabulary,  there 
was  a  fair  exchange  on  both  sides.  He  had  got 
three  books  in  his  knapsack,  one  Colonel  Churchill's 
M  Japanese  Military  Terms,"  the  second  a  little  Anglo- 
Japanese  dictionary,  and  the  third  a  Sino-Japanese 
gazetteer  of  Manchurian  geographical  names.  When 
with  the  Russian  army,  I  had^ometimes  heard  privates 
reading  novels  aloud  for  the  delectation  of  comrades 
who  could  not  read,  but  I  never  knew  any  of  them  to 
possess  even  as  much  as  a  map. 

But  in  the  Japanese  army  the  First  Soldiers,  as  they 
are  called,  had  always  maps,  and  so  had  even  ordinary 
privates  sometimes. 

A  Chinese  countryman  joined  us  in  the  evening  and 
enlarged  for  a  long  time,  in  his  own  language,  on  the 
oneness  of  the  Japanese  and  Chinese  peoples.  Accord- 
ing to  him  they  were  "yeega  yang"  (all  the  same) — 
same  eyes,  same  black  hair,  same  absence  of  beard, 
same  rice,  chopsticks  and  character  writing.  I  realised 
that  the  occasion  was  a  solemn  one.  I  was  watching 
the  birth  of  the  Yellow  Peril.  But  Hara  tactfully 
discouraged  this  conversation. 

In  regard  to  the  treatment  of  Chinese,  I  think  the 


BACK  TO  LIAOYANG  347 

Japanese  are  ahead  of  the  Russians,  but  there  is  in 
general  as  little  fraternisation  between  the  Celestials 
and  the  Japanese  soldiers  as  if  the  latter  were  the 
troops  of  some  civilised  Malay  empire  which  had 
adopted  Chinese  character  writing.  Contrary  to  my 
expectations,  the  Japanese  do  not  speak  Chinese  any 
better  than  the  Russians,  but  they  have  the  advantage 
of  being  able  to  communicate  with  the  Chinese  in 
writing. 

In  the  evening  I  reached  Kandalusan,  about  a 
day's  journey  to  the  south-east  of  Mukden,  and  for- 
merly the  headquarters  of  General  Zassulitch,  com- 
manding the  First  Siberian  Army  Corps.  As  my  next 
day's  journey  was  to  take  me  to  the  Yentai  coal  mines 
it  will  be  seen  that  I  was  sent  around  in  a  semicircular 
sweep,  so  as  not  to  be  able  to  see  anything  of  what 
was  going  on  in  the  vicinity  of  Mukden. 

I  found  Kandalusan  so  little  changed  that  I  almost 
expected  to  hear  the  merry  music  and  the  sound  of 
dancing  which  had  proceeded  from  it  when  I  had  last 
visited  it,  several  months  before.  But,  alas  for  worldly 
grandeur,  it  had  fallen  from  its  high  estate,  and,  instead 
of  being  the  headquarters  of  a  General,  was  now  a  mere 
communications  station.  Never  again  shall  the  voice 
of  Muscovite  harpers  and  musicians  be  heard  in 
Kandalusan. 

The  very  house  in  which  General  Zassulitch  had 
given  me  a  frosty  welcome  and  a  frostier  dinner  was 
desecrated  by  the  presence  of  a  commissariat  officer  of 
low  degree.  This  functionary  received  me  almost  as 
coldly  as  if  he  had  been  an  English  postmistress  and 
I  a  customer  coming  to  buy  a  stamp.  He  gave  me 
good  quarters,  however,  and  got  the  servants  to  make 


348  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

several  attempts  to  light  a  fire  in  the  "  kang,"  but  these 
attempts  were  all  failures,  and  I  woke  up  very  cold 
at  a  quarter  past  2  a.m.  to  find  one  soldier  sleeping 
on  the  "  kang  "  alongside  me  and  another  sitting  at  my 
feet  with  his  rifle  between  his  knees  and  his  bayonet 
fixed  to  the  rifle,  watching  me  intently  by  the  uncertain 
flicker  of  a  new  candle  which  he  had  just  lighted,  the 
first  one  having  burned  out.  The  guard  over  me  was 
relieved  every  half-hour,  the  relieved  always  saying 
"Yoroshii!"  ("All's  well!")  to  the  relievee,  in  the 
bated  breath  of  a  man  guarding  incalculable  treasures. 

Next  morning  I  asked  Hara  for  an  explanation  of 
this  singular  watchfulness. 

"  Oh,  sir!"  said  he,  "that  guard  is  simply  there 
to  do  you  honour  as  correspondent." 

I  thereupon  thanked  God  that  I  was  not  a  general, 
for  in  that  case  they  would  probably  have  taken  it  into 
their  heads  to  have  a  brass  band  playing  all  night  in 
my  bedroom. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  Tuesday,  March  14,  we 
started  for  Tanko,  near  the  Yentai  mines. 

An  instinctive  fear  that  the  Japanese  batteries  would 
fire  on  us  seized  me  as  soon  as  we  left  Kandalusan, 
for,  the  last  time  I  had  been  there,  it  was  dangerous  to 
wander  to  any  considerable  distance  south  of  the 
Russian  lines.  But  at  length  we  passed  what  had  long 
been  the  Land  Debatable  and  reached  what  had  long 
been  the  Japanese  outposts.  On  one  side  of  the 
Shaho  (which  was  then,  like  the  Hunho,  almost  free 
from  ice  and  difficult  to  cross)  the  outermost  Russian 
posts,  with  their  palisades,  their  barbed  wire  fences 
and  their  pitfalls  ;  on  the  other  side,  the  simpler 
Japanese  dug-outs  and  trenches.     The  Russians  seem 


I 


BACK  TO  L1AOYANG  349 

to  have  been  everlastingly  preparing  against  attack  ; 
the  Japanese  to  have  been  ever  getting  ready  for  an 
advance. 

All  the  way  from  the  Shaho  to  Yentai  ran  a  trolley 
line  of  far  simpler  and  cheaper  construction  than  the 
fine  narrow-gauge  railways  which  the  Russians  had 
constructed  to  the  east  and  west  of  Mukden  and 
which  afterward  fell  entirely  into  the  hands  of  the 
conquerors. 

On  this  day  I  met  the  usual  endless  stream  of 
military  coolies  and  Chinese  carts.  A  Japanese 
soldier,  asleep  in  one  of  the  latter,  was  roused  by 
the  excited  driver  thereof,  who  shouted  to  him  : 
"  Quick!  quick!  Look!  look!  A  white  man!  A 
hairy  barbarian  caught !  "  But,  greatly  to  my  disgust 
— for  up  to  that  time  I  had  attracted  as  much  attention 
as  a  cow  with  two  heads — the  little  Jap  only  cursed 
the  Chinaman  and  went  to  sleep  again,  without  hardly 
condescending  to  favour  me  with  a  glance.  In  the 
old  days  our  fondness  for  having  a  whole  bedroom  to 
ourselves  in  Japanese  hotels,  our  dislike  of  the  publicity 
which  obtains  in  the  Japanese  bath,  and  our  unac- 
countable repugnance  to  going  about  like  them  inpuris 
naturalibus,  led  the  Japanese  to  suspect  that  there  was 
about  our  mode  of  existence  and  our  bodily  form 
something  mysterious,  something  of  which  we  felt 
ashamed  and  which  we  wished  to  hide ;  but  now  that 
they  have  captured  tens  of  thousands  of  us — men, 
women  and  children,  including  sick,  wounded,  naked 
and  insane,  now  that  they  have  buried  our  mangled 
dead,  all  the  way  from  Port  Arthur  to  Kaiyuan  ;  that 
they  have  watched  all  sorts  of  specimens  of  us  day  and 
night  with  the  care  of  a  naturalist  studying  a  new 


3 so  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

variety  of  beetle  ;  that  they  have  superintended  us 
taking  our  compulsory  bath,  scores  at  a  time  in  the 
quarantine  stations  at  Ninoshima  and  Nagasaki,  the 
edge  must  surely  be  for  ever  taken  off  their  keen 
curiosity. 

I  dined  this  day  at  a  place  south  of  the  Shaho,  called 
Sudyaze,  where  there  was  an  enormous  depot  of  Japa- 
nese stores  of  rice  and  barley  packed  in  gunny  bags 
covered  by  closely  woven  straw  mats,  and  ready  to  be 
carted  or  carried  off  at  a  moment's  notice.  The  officer 
in  charge  of  the  dtape  was  hospitable  and  communica- 
tive. He  said  that  he  had  expected  one  hundred 
thousand  prisoners,  and  was  disappointed  at  getting 
word  to  prepare  accommodation  for  only  ten  thousand. 
The  total  number  of  captives  was  higher  than  ten 
thousand,  but  the  balance  was  going  southward  by 
another  route.  Personally  he  did  not  dote  on  Russian 
prisoners,  whose  clothing  was,  he  said,  dirty.  He 
complained  that  a  Russian  regimental  doctor  who 
had  been  captured  three  days  before  and  whom  he 
had  treated  very  well,  had  stolen  a  Japanese  soldier's 
overcoat  and  vamoosed  in  the  night-time.  The  soldier 
on  guard  had  been  deceived  by  the  colour  of  the  coat, 
but  this  did  not  save  him  from  punishment  next  day  at 
the  hands  of  his  incensed  superior. 

While  sympathising  to  some  extent  with  the  latter, 
I  could  not  help  feeling  some  sympathy  for  the  un- 
fortunate Russian  also,  because  I  had  been  often 
thinking  of  doing  as  he  did.  At  the  same  time  this 
problem  of  escaping  from  watchful  guardians  is  one  of 
the  hardest  that  ever  confronted  any  ordinary  man  • 
for,  apart  from  the  great  difficulty  of  getting  past  sleep- 
ing men  and  armed  sentinels,  there  is  the  equally  great 


BACK  TO  LI AO YANG  351 

difficulty  of  getting  across  a  flat,  bare,  wasted  country- 
traversed  everywhere  by  the  enemy.  The  more  I 
pondered  on  this  problem  the  more  profound  became 
my  admiration  for  Jack  Sheppard.  In  some  ways 
Jack  was  a  greater  man  than  Napoleon  Bonaparte. 

Here  and  elsewhere  in  Manchuria,  more  especially 
in  Dalny,  I  found  in  the  hands  of  the  Japanese  fine 
Russian  dogs,  which,  seeing  that  I  was  a  white  man, 
used  to  rush  towards  me  with  sorrowful  whines. 
Although  they  were  well  treated  by  the  Japanese,  it  was 
rather  sad  to  see  them  forced  to  lick  the  hands  that 
had  perhaps  shed  their  masters'  blood. 

Near  Tanko  we  called  on  a  friend  of  Hara's  who 
had  something  to  do  with  the  canteen  business,  and  in 
his  house,  strange  to  say,  I  found  two  Japanese  servants 
who  had  been  in  Siberia  and  could  speak  Russian. 

The  Chinese  inhabitants  seemed  to  be  getting  on 
fairly  well  under  the  Japanese  sway  in  this  part  of  the 
country.  They  had  not  begun  to  till  their  rice-fields 
yet,  but  this  was,  I  suppose,  because  the  ground  was 
still  frozen.  A  handsome  young  Chinese  woman  with 
a  baby  in  her  arms  regarded  me,  as  I  passed,  with 
curiosity,  but  not  with  hatred  ;  while  the  usual  stream 
of  Chinese  carters  indulged  sometimes  in  the  usual 
good-natured  chaff,  but  generally  confined  themselves 
to  a  blank  stare  of  wonderment. 

The  Japanese  had  made  themselves  at  home  in  such 
of  the  Chinese  houses  as  they  occupied  hereabouts. 
They  squatted  with  stockinged  feet  on  the  "  kang," 
they  had  improvised  u  hibachi  "  out  of  old  oil  tins,  and 
they  generally  had  a  fire  burning  in  a  hollow  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  as  in  Hokkaido  and  other  cold 
parts  of  their  own  islands. 


352  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

After  having  had  a  fine  Japanese  dinner  with  Haras 
friends  we  crossed  a  ridge  of  hills  at  sunset,  and,  lo  ! 
beneath  us  lay  a  lost  Russian  town  !  a  fine  collection 
of  European  houses  like  those  at  Dalny  or  Tsingtau, 
with  well-gravelled  walks  and  with  long  lines  of  stone 
steps  before  the  doors.  Chinese  lions  carved  in  granite 
guarded  the  approaches  to  these  steps,  potted  plants  of 
many  varieties  adorned  them  all  the  way  up.  Lights 
twinkled  from  windows.  Blinds  were  drawn.  I  could 
almost  believe  that  I  was  in  a  prosperous  Russian 
settlement  had  it  not  been  for  the  flag  of  the  Rising 
Sun,  which  was  hauled  down  at  sunset  from  half  a 
dozen  lofty  flag-poles. 

Descending  the  hill  we  climbed  one  of  the  biggest 
flights  of  steps  and  entered  a  large  room,  all  around 
which  Japanese  sat  at  desks.  Some  were  in  European 
civil  dress,  some  were  in  semi-military  dress,  some  were 
in  "  kimonos,"  and  all  were  working  hard  at  big  ledgers 
and  account  books. 

Leaving  me  standing  severely  alone  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  Hara  went  forward  to  the  manager,  with 
the  ait  of  a  man  who  is  going  to  spring  a  good  joke. 
He  saluted,  but  for  about  five  minutes  the  manager 
was  oblivious  of  his  presence,  and  in  the  meantime  the 
clerks  stared  at  me  coldly,  tittered  slightly,  and  ex- 
changed comments  on  my  appearance.  One  of  them 
hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head  with  the  remark,  which 
he  made  in  Japanese  to  a  companion,  that,  judging  from 
my  camera,  I  must  be  a  newspaper  man.  When  Hara 
told  his  story,  however,  and  he  always  told  it,  what- 
ever it  was,  with  great  gusto,  a  sudden  change  came 
over  the  scene.  The  manager  shook  hands  with  me 
heartily  and  asked  me  to  pray  be  seated,  while  the 


BACK  TO  LIAOYANG  353 

glances  directed  at  me  by  his  satellites  became  all  at 
once  sympathetic. 

Nevertheless,  I  could  not  help  thinking  how  un- 
enviable must  be  the  feelings  of  a  Russian  prisoner, 
coldly  received  and  coldly  stared  at,  in  a  house  which 
his  money  had  built  and  in  defence  of  which  his  blood 
had  perhaps  been  shed.  This  must,  however,  have 
been  the  fate  of  many  unfortunate  Russians,  for  the 
manager  told  me  that  a  colonel  and  one  hundred  and 
fifty  prisoners  had  passed  through  to  Liaoyang  the  day 
before,  while  about  five  thousand  were  expected  next 
day.  He  also  informed  me  with  a  laugh  that  formerly 
the  Russian  military  governor  of  the  place  lived  in 
that  very  house. 

I  had  so  long  identified  myself  with  the  Russians, 
I  had  so  often  eaten  their  khleb-sol  (bread  and  salt), 
that  this  laugh  of  triumph  somewhat  jarred  on  me  ;  but, 
after  all,  I  cannot  say  that  I  felt  out  of  place  among 
the  Japanese.  Although  their  ways  are  not  always 
our  ways,  the  Japanese  are  human ;  and  it  does  not 
take  very  long  for  a  white  man  to  forget  that  their 
skin  is  not  quite  the  same  colour  as  his.  I  f  there  is  ever  a 
"  yellow  peril,"  it  will  be  an  educated  peril,  and  not  the 
wild,  barbaric,  mysterious  and  inhuman  monster  with 
visions  of  which  some  people  have  tortured  their  brains. 

Fortunately  there  was  a  train  leaving  at  once  for 
Liaoyang,  and  Hara  and  I  secured  an  empty  goods 
waggon,  in  which  we  made  ourselves  comfortable  with 
numerous  red  army  rugs  which  the  Tanko  manager 
kindly  lent  us. 

About  half-past  ten  at  night  we  were  in  Liaoyang 
station.  Liaoyang  ?  I  could  hardly  believe  my  eyes. 
When  last  I  had  seen  Liaoyang,  the  station  platform 


354  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

was  crowded  with  Russian  officers  and  the  crowd  in 
the  buffet  was  dense.  Angry  cries  of  "  Boyka ! " 
("Waiter");  "Chelovek!"  "Peevo!"  ("Beer");  "  Itte 
syuda  !  "  ("Come  here")  ;  and  deprecatory  responses  of 
"  Sichas  ! "  ("  Immediately  ")  filled  the  air.  Here  and 
there  was  a  Red  Cross  sister,  or  a  Korean  boy,  who 
looked  very  much  like  a  Japanese,  and  who  did  not 
seem  to  push  the  sale  of  his  basketful  of  cigarettes 
with  all  the  zeal  that  you  would  expect  of  a  bond 
fide  pedlar.  Away  down  at  the  dark  end  of  the 
platform  a  crowd  of  big,  patient,  clumsy  privates 
were  bargaining  hoarsely  with  a  Greek  sutler,  who 
kept  a  store  there.  A  stone's  throw  from  the  station 
the  lights  of  sundry  Greek  stores  gleamed  through 
innumerable  rows  of  bottles  and  were  reflected  in  an 
intervening  lake  of  watery  mud  which  was,  in  places, 
almost  deep  enough  to  drown  one. 

Liaoyang  had  now  the  sober  and  settled  tranquillity 
of  a  prosperous  little  market-town  in  England.  Five 
pairs  of  rails  glistened  in  the  lamp-light,  the  buffet 
had  become  a  traffic  managers  office,  and  the  station 
was  divided  into  compartments  wherein  prosaic, 
sedentary  little  men  worked  patiently  and  noiselessly. 
There  was  no  crowd  on  the  platform.  Several  people 
crossed  it  hurriedly  with  luggage.  A  few  porters 
walked  along  it  swinging  their  lanterns.  Like  one 
in  a  dream  I  issued  from  the  train  and  passed  through 
the  wicket.  Outside  was  no  crowd  of  loud,  abusive 
"jinriksha"  men  wanting  three  or  four  roubles  to  bring 
you  a  few  hundred  yards,  no  long  line  of  pure-breds 
held  by  patient  orderlies,  no  crowd  of  privates  com- 
peting with  Chinamen  for  the  few  kopecks  the  holding 
of  a  horse  would  bring  them. 


BACK  TO  LI AO YANG  355 

The  lofty  tower  of  Liaoyang  rose  above  me  ;  the 
houses  of  the  Russian  settlement  twinkled  with 
lights  ;  afar  off  the  triple  summit  of  Shushan  looked  as 
calm  as  if  it  had  never  known  shrapnel.  I  passed 
over  a  road  hard  as  iron,  and  after  visiting  several 
offices  wherein  pale,  studious,  polite  young  men,  in 
semi-military  costume  and  with  spectacles  and  hollow 
cheeks  were  still  writing  patiently,  sadly  and  silently, 
I  was  finally  led  into  the  gendarmerie  quarter,  a  quad- 
rangular block  of  buildings  situated  at  the  base  of  the 
old  pagoda.  Here  also,  despite  the  lateness  of  the 
hour,  sallow,  sartorial-looking  clerks  were  still  at  work. 
But  there  were  others.  At  a  sign  from  the  chief 
clerk,  to  whom  Hara  had,  with  his  usual  swing  and 
vim,  told  the  whole  story  and  handed  his  documents, 
two  sturdy  little  soldiers,  with  rifles  and  fixed  bayonets, 
came  from  somewhere  or  other  and  quietly  but  firmly 
attached  themselves  to  me. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

FROM  LIAOYANG  TO  DALNY 

When  I  got  up  at  7.30  a.m.  on  Wednesday,  March  15, 
I  found  everybody  had  already  breakfasted  and  gone 
out  to  work,  that  the  kitchen  fire  was  cold,  and  had  to 
be  lighted  again  in  order  to  prepare  my  breakfast,  that 
the  commandant  of  the  gendarmerie  had  already  been 
twice  to  see  me.  When  I  found  this  out  and  thought 
of  the  old  Liaoyang,  which  regarded  ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning  as  scandalously  early,  I  began  to  realise 
that  there  is  something,  after  all,  in  that  saying  about 
the  early  bird. 

The  commandant  was  very  polite.  He  said  that  it 
would  have  been  a  dreadful  thing  if  an  English  or 
American  correspondent  on  the  Russian  side  had 
fallen  by  a  Japanese  bullet,  that  it  was  an  honour  for 
me  to  have  been  captured  as  I  was,  and  that  it  was  an 
honour  for  him  to  be  my  host.  But  on  learning  that 
I  had  been  in  Liaoyang  before  and  knew  the  lie  of 
the  ground  perfectly,  his  jaw  fell,  and,  immediately 
after,  my  guards  began  watching  me  intently,  evidently 
under  the  impression  that  I  was  a  kind  of  Irish 
leprecaun  that  was  liable  to  disappear  the  instant  its 
captor  took  his  eyes  off  it.  I  was  also  refused  per- 
mission to  visit  the  city,  to  take  a  walk,  to  send  a  note 
to  my  old  friend,  Dr.  Westwater  of  Liaoyang,  or  to  do 


FROM  LI AO YANG  TO  DALNY  357 

anything  save  remain  all  day  in  my  room.  I  was 
treated,  however,  with  much  courtesy,  and  supplied 
with  enough  food  and  drink  for  two  men. 

Despite  his  suspicious  nature,  the  commandant  of 
Liaoyang  pleased  me  by  the  paternal  interest  he  took 
in  his  involuntary  charges.  He  consulted  with  me 
anxiously  as  to  what  the  Russians  got  to  eat  when  at 
home,  and  seemed  surprised  when  I  told  him  that,  even 
in  their  worst  times  in  Manchuria,  they  had  always  got 
plenty  of  black  bread,  thick  soup,  meat,  "  kasha " 
(porridge),  and  tea.  He  had  evidently  imagined  that 
in  their  own  country  they  lived  exclusively  on  dog 
biscuits.  He  was  a  minute,  conscientious,  scrupulous 
man,  however,  and  begged  anxiously  to  know  if  four 
pieces  of  a  hard  cabin-biscuit  kind  of  production  per 
meal  were  not  sufficient  for  each  man.  He  was  visibly 
disappointed  and  distressed  when  I  told  him  that  I 
hardly  thought  this  sufficient.  The  Russian  soldiers 
themselves  were  decidedly  of  opinion  that  it  was  insuf- 
ficient, and  in  conversation  with  me  they  contrasted 
the  warm  "  zeemlyankee,"  abundant  "  borsh,"  and  huge 
chunks  of  fresh  black  bread  supplied  to  the  Japanese 
prisoners  by  the  Russians  with  the  treatment  meted 
out  them  by  the  Japs. 

Finally  I  rather  put  my  foot  in  it  by  telling  the  old 
commandant  that,  when  the  next  Russo-Japanese  wa 
broke  out,  I  would  again  join  the  Russians.     "  Then," 
said  he  sharply,  "  next  time  you  are  my  guest   it  will 
be  in  St.  Petersburg." 

In  the  afternoon  I  was  brought  to  the  station,  and 
on  the  way  I  saw  a  sight  that  moved  me  more  than 
anything  I  had  seen  during  the  whole  war.  In  front 
of  the  Liaoyang  railway  depot  there  is  a  large  fenced- 


358  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

in  space,  and  this  space  I  found  to  be  crammed  with 
Russian  prisoners  who  had  passed  the  whole  night 
there  on  the  bare  ground  without  any  kind  of  covering. 
They  were  cold,  hungry,  dirty  and  miserable,  to  such 
an  extent  that  their  worst  enemy  might  have  wept  for 
pity;  and,  all  round,  Japanese  and  Chinese  pressed 
against  the  railings  and  grinned  at  the  unhappy  captives 
inside. 

There  were  eight  tents  for  officers — for  a  time  I 
occupied  one  of  them  myself — but,  as  far  as  I  could  see, 
there  were  no  latrines,  no  decent  privacy,  and  the 
natives  watched  the  white  men  discharging  the  offices  of 
nature  with  a  critical  and  disgusted  air.  The  unfor- 
tunate Russkies  were  exactly  on  the  level  of  a  collec- 
tion of  gorillas  that  had  just  been  captured  and 
rendered  harmless.  Poor  devils !  they  had  hardly 
room  to  turn  round  in,  and  as  they  had  not  washed  for 
weeks,  and  as  no  soap  or  water  was  now  given  them, 
it  is  not  surprising  that  the  neat  little  Japanese  soldiers, 
spruce  as  if  they  had  just  stepped  out  of  a  band-box, 
with  shining  cheeks  and  glistening  white  teeth,  some- 
times held  their  noses,  and  that  even  the  dirtiest 
Chinese  coolies  seemed  to  regard  this  Russky  nuisance 
as  something  too  great  to  be  borne  in  silence.  It  was 
a  fall  indeed ;  a  fall  so  tremendous  that  words  fail  to 
convey  a  just  idea  of  it.  To  be  captured  and  driven 
into  a  cage  by  the  yellow  soldiers  whom,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  war,  they  had  only  one  designation  for — 
"makaka"  (monkeys) — was  a  come-down  in  the  world 
for  the  haughty  Muscovites.  To  be  driven  into  an 
enclosure  like  cattle,  and  allowed  to  stand  or  lie  there, 
on  a  night  when  a  considerate  man  would  scarcely 
like  to  let  his  horse  or  his  dog  sleep  out  in  the  open, 


FROM  LIAOYANG  TO  DALNY  359 

was  bad  enough  ;  but  what  made  it  worse  was  the  fact 
that  in  the  neat  houses  which  the  Russians  had  built 
for  themselves  years  ago  all  around  the  station,  the 
Japanese  were  now  very  snug  and  comfortable. 

Some  of  the  Russians  tried  to  converse  with  the 
Chinese  whom  they  had  formerly  known  in  Liaoyang, 
while  others  accepted  cigarettes  which  good-natured 
Japanese  soldiers  passed  to  them  through  the  bars  of 
the  fence,  the  same  as  you  would  pass  biscuits  to  a 
caged  monkey  at  the  Zoo.  It  was  pathetic  to  watch  the 
vain  attempts  of  one  or  two  to  light  a  fire  with  a  hand- 
ful of  twigs  and  dried  grass  they  had  collected  in  order 
to  boil  water  in  the  few  sooty  and  dented  old  mess-tins 
that  still  remained  to  them,  for  the  purpose  of  making 
their  beloved  "chai"  (tea).  Some  prayed,  with  faces 
turned  towards  the  sun  and  with  the  frequent  cross- 
ings which  the  Orthodox  Catholic  employs.  Japanese 
soldiers  occasionally  imitated  them  out  of  a  spirit  of 
fun,  but  the  Russians  did  not  take  this  unconscious 
irreverence  in  bad  part.  They  only  smiled,  and  taught 
the  Japs  how  to  cross  themselves  properly. 

I  cannot  say  that  the  Russians  were  dignified  in  their 
misfortunes.  They  "  bummed  "  around  the  limits  of 
their  cage,  fraternising  quite  affably  with  the  few 
Japanese  who  allowed  them  to  become  familiar,  and 
begging  piteously  for  food,  Tor  tobacco,  for  anything 
their  keepers  would  condescend  to  give  them.  None 
of  them  seemed  by  his  conduct  to  feel  that  he  repre- 
sented Europe  and  must  behave  accordingly.  It 
cannot  be  said  that  any  of  them  stood  gloomily  apart 
like  a  Byronic  hero  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  On 
one  occasion,  however,  when  a  young  Russian  private 
began  to  tell  me  how  his  party  had  been  surrounded, 


360  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

an  elderly  comrade  interrupted  him  with  the  angry 
exclamation  :  M  What's  the  use  of  talking  about  these 
things  now  ?  Can't  you  wait  till  we  get  back  to 
Russia  ?  " 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  Russians  were  led  from 
their  cage  to  the  railway-station,  where  they  were 
driven  like  cattle  into  open  trucks.  This  long  line  of 
tall,  patriarchal-looking,  bearded  men  marched  between 
two  grinning  rows  of  Chinamen  and  Japanese.  As 
they  did  not  march  fast  enough  to  please  their  masters, 
the  latter  made  them  run,  and  then  laughed  the 
silent,  Asiatic  laugh — at  the  "  bashleeks  "  and  the 
"papakhas"  bobbing  up  and  down  as  the  big,  docile 
men  raced  obediently  towards  the  railway. 

There  were  about  twenty  trucks  in  the  train  and 
fifty  men  in  each  truck.  For  every  fifty  prisoners 
there  was  one  armed  Japanese,  who  sat  stiff  and 
upright  on  the  side  of  the  vehicle,  his  black  eyes 
shining  brightly  above  the  high,  fur-lined  collar  of  his 
pepper-coloured  overcoat,  his  rifle  between  his  knees, 
the  sinking  sun  glinting  red  on  his  broad  naked 
bayonet,  whose  point  and  edge  were  as  sharp  as  a 
razor.  The  Russians  were  all  littered  in  the  bottom 
of  the  trucks,  only  their  heads  and  shoulders  pro- 
jecting. Personally,  I  felt  like  one  of  the  conquered 
in  a  Roman  triumph.  I  had  touched  the  lowest  deep 
of  abasement.  Chains  would  not  have  added 
materially  to  my  humiliation. 

After  having  passed  one  night,  without  covering,  in 
an  open  field,  the  Russians  were  now  to  pass  the  next 
night  without  covering  in  open  trucks.  The  Japanese 
evidently  meant  to  test  the  boasted  ability  of  the 
Muscovites  to  withstand  cold.     There  was  a  moderate- 


FROM  LIAOYANG  TO  DALNY  361 

sized  crowd  of  Japanese  and  Chinese  at  the  station, 
but  they  did  not  cheer  or  make  any  demonstration. 
The  Japanese  never  cheers  even  when  the  "Tenno 
Haiku  "  (whom  foreigners  call  the  Mikado)  passes  by, 
and  now  he  looked  on  with  a  grave  smile  at  the  loud 
undignified  uproar  of  the  Russians,  among  whom  tins 
of  hard  biscuits  were  being  divided.  The  Japanese 
guard  in  each  truck  had  the  task  of  distribution,  and 
he  threw  the  stuff  among  his  prisoners  as  a  man 
throws  bread  to  dogs.  Like  dogs,  too,  the  Russians 
scrambled  for  the  food,  with  shouts  of  M  Vozmee 
syuda  !  "  and  "  Dai  khleb  ! "  that  were  not  unlike 
barks.  The  decorous  station  precincts  echoed  to  the 
roars  of  one  big  fellow  who  had  got  nothing,  but  the 
sentinel's  only  reply  was  gravely  to  raise  the  empty 
tin  to  show  that  there  was  no  more.  Some  wounded 
Japanese  officers  in  white  "  kimono  "  with  a  red  cross 
on  the  shoulder,  stood  on  the  platform  and  looked  on 
in  contempt.  They  knew  that  had  they  been  in  the 
position  of  the  Russians  they  would  have  starved  to 
death  sooner  than  raise  such  an  unseemly  clamour. 

To  appreciate  the  significance  of  this  historic  scene, 
one  should  have  lived  for  a  long  time  in  the  Far 
East,  and  fully  entered  into  the  spirit  with  which  the 
white  settlers  there  regard  the  yellow  inhabitants. 
When,  seven  years  ago,  I  first  travelled  from  Tientsin 
to  Peking,  a  Chinese  attendant  on  the  train  cere- 
moniously ushered  me  into  a  car  in  which  only  white 
men  were  allowed  to  travel.  Mandarins,  coolies, 
Chinese  princes  and  Chinese  prostitutes  were  all  piled 
together  in  dirty  third-class  carriages.  They  were  all 
yellow  ;  why  make  any  distinctions  between  them  ? 

No  Chinese  guest  ever  desecrated  the  sacred  pre- 


362  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

cincts  of  the  Shanghai  Club  (which,  up  till  a  couple  of 
years  ago,  would  not  allow  a  Japanese  to  cross  its 
threshold — no,  not  even  if  that  Japanese  bore  the  name 
of  Togo  or  Kuroki),  and  no  European,  unless  he  were 
mad  or  drunk,  would  ever  dream  of  asking  a  Chinese 
gentleman  to  dinner. 

The  Japanese  were  tarred  with  the  same  brush,  and 
the  language  anent  "  yellow  monkeys  "  in  which  Port 
Arthur  used  to  indulge  was  tame  in  comparison  with 
what  one  heard  in  the  bar-rooms  of  the  Yokohama 
hotels  even  after  the  outbreak  of  the  recent  war. 

I  could  hardly  therefore  realise  that  I  was  awake 
when  I  found  myself  at  Liaoyang  station  surrounded 
by  examples  of  Russian  architecture,  in  a  train  drawn  by 
an  American  engine  ;  but,  nevertheless,  one  of  a  crowd 
of  broken  white  men  whom  the  despised  little  slant- 
eye  had  compelled,  by  the  keen  logic  of  the  bayonet 
point,  to  travel  in  trucks  which  might  have  been  useful 
for  carrying  coal  or  ballast,  but  in  which,  at  that  season 
of  the  year,  no  cattle-dealer  would  care  to  send  cattle 
any  considerable  distance.  Although  the  events  of  a 
year  might  have  prepared  my  mind  for  it,  this  turning 
of  the  tables  was  so  sudden  and  so  complete  that  I 
looked  on  dazed  and  thunderstruck.  It  was  like  going 
into  Calcutta  and  finding  all  the  white  men  of  that 
city  acting  as  street-sweepers,  coolies,  syces,  shoe- 
blacks and  in  other  menial  capacities,  while  the  obese 
Bengalee  lolled  back  in  the  best  places  on  the  trains 
and  in  the  hotels.  In  making  this  comparison,  I  do 
not  wish  to  offend  the  Japanese.  My  only  object  is 
to  give  the  reader  an  accurate  idea  of  the  impression 
made  on  the  mind  of  one  who  has  lived  half  his  life 
among  the  conquering  whites  of  Asia. 


FROM  LIAOYANG  TO  DALNY  363 

Nor  do  I  wish  to  accuse  the  Japanese  of  having 
deliberately  selected  open  trucks  for  the  Russians  in 
order  that  all  Liaoyang  and  all  the  country  between 
Liaoyang  and  Dalny  could  see  their  shame,  for  per- 
haps they  had  not  got  a  sufficient  supply  of  closed 
carriages  ;  but  a  more  efficient  way  for  destroying  the 
prestige  of  the  white  race  and  dragging  the  renown  of 
Russia  in  the  dust  could  hardly  be  conceived. 

At  dawn  next  day  we  reached  the  station  of  Van- 
galeen,  and  it  was  strange  to  see  the  Russian  letters 
on  the  station  and  the  Russian  buildings  all  around. 
The  Russians  now  looked  so  wretched,  dirty,  red-nosed, 
and  blear-eyed  that,  in  comparison  with  them,  Kentish 
hop-pickers  would  be  regarded  as  models  of  fashion. 
We  had  only  a  few  moments  to  stop  at  Vangaleen,  but 
the  Russians  hastened  to  avail  themselves  of  those  few 
moments,  some  for  the  purpose  of  discharging  the 
offices  of  nature  in  the  open  space  near  the  train,  and 
others  of  lighting  a  fire  with  lightning  rapidity  for  the 
sake  of  boiling  tea.  "  Much  civilised  !  "  said  Hara, 
when  he  saw  several  of  them  using  soap  to  wash 
themselves  with.  He  had  evidently  thought  that  the 
Russians  only  used  soap  as  an  article  of  food. 

Some  of  the  prisoners  stand  stupidly  around  an 
ex- Russian  interpreter,  really  a  low  Chinese  coolie, 
who  happened  to  pick  up  a  few  words  of  Russian 
somehow  or  other,  while  he  prods  them  familiarly  with 
a  walking-stick,  at  the  same  time  impressing  on  them 
the  fact  that  "all  this  would  not  have  befallen  you  if 
you  had  not  come  to  '  our'  country,"  indicating,  with 
a  wave  of  the  walking-stick,  the  Japanese  and  himself. 
As  regards  their  treatment  in  Japan,  he  explains  to 
them  authoritatively,  but  in  execrable   Russian,  that 


364  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

they  will  get  bread  and  rice,  but  no  "vodka."  A 
Russian  remarks  humbly  that  the  Japanese  prisoners 
are  well- treated  in  Russia.  "  Oh,  yes,"  says  the  "  pere- 
vodcheek"  loftily,  "but  the  Japanese  prisoners  are 
very  few  —  '  ochen  malo  '  —  whereas  the  Russky 
prisoners  are  very  numerous — one  million  !  " 

The  bell  announcing  the  forthcoming  departure  of 
the  train  now  rang,  and  this  coolie-"  perevodcheek  " 
made  himself  officious  by  driving  the  soldiers  into 
the  trucks  with  his  cane,  at  the  same  time  airing  his 
knowledge  of  Russian  expletives.  Some,  poor  devils, 
suffering,  perhaps,  from  bowel  complaint,  brought  on 
by  sleeping  on  the  bare  ground,  were  hardly  in  a 
position  to  re-enter  their  trucks  just  then  ;  but  the 
Russian-speaking  Chinaman  had  no  mercy  on  them, 
and  the  Chinese  and  Japanese,  who  had  been  watch- 
ing their  performances  with  the  critical  air  of  vulgar- 
minded  children  watching  strange  brutes  evacuating, 
were  delighted  at  the  uncouth  stampede  of  these 
grey,  bearded  animals,  adjusting  their  tattered  clothing 
as  they  ran.  The  men  who  had  been  making  tea 
were  driven  off  mercilessly  just  before  their  water  had 
reached  the  boil.  O  Russky !  Russky  !  Thy  ill- 
trained  "  perevodcheek  "  has  turned  and  rent  thee  ! 

It  was  an  uninterrupted  yellow  grin  all  the  way  to 
Dalny.  I  have  never  before  had  such  an  opportunity 
of  observing  the  mirthless  Asiatic  smile.  It  was  a 
kind  of  noiseless  laugh,  and  conveyed,  not  only  an 
appreciation  of  humour,  but  amazement,  keen  satis- 
faction and  scorn  sharp  enough  to  pierce  the  hide  of  a 
rhinoceros.  It  was  like  the  smile  you  might  see  on 
the  faces  of  London  street  arabs  gazing  at  the  corpulent 
form  of  a  pompous  but  unpopular  police-sergeant  who 


FROM  LIAOYANG  TO  DALNY  365 

had  got  beastly  drunk  and  was  being  solemnly  carried 
frog's-march  to  the  police  station,  only  that  the  street 
arabs  would  dissipate  a  lot  of  their  venom  in  jocular 
and  abusing  shouts,  while  the  Chinese  concentrated 
all  theirs  in  that  characteristic  smile.  There  was  no 
tribute  to  bravery,  no  pity  for  suffering  in  that  cruel 
grin.  The  Chinese  can  see  nothing  honourable  in 
captivity  ;  most  of  them  were  probably  convinced  that 
the  Japanese  would  hereafter  make  slaves,  draught- 
cattle,  of  these  white-skinned  prizes  of  war.  Being 
Orientals  and  belonging  to  a  nation  as  old  as  Assyria, 
they  probably  thought  that  the  natural  thing  to  do 
with  us  was  to  treat  us  in  the  shameful  way  that 
prisoners  of  war  were  treated  in  the  days  of  Assur- 
Nusir-Pal. 

It  seemed  impossible  to  sate  the  curiosity  of  these 
Celestials.  They  drank  in  the  tremendous  significance 
of  the  scene  with  their  eyes  as  thirsty  men  drink  water, 
and  their  curiosity  seemed  unappeasable.  Many 
Chinamen,  who  had  probably  supposed  the  Great 
White  Tsar  to  be  God  in  Heaven,  were  suddenly 
petrified  when  they  saw  us,  and  remained  in  that  con- 
dition until  the  train  had  passed.  Chinese  boys  in 
padded  winter  dress  that  gave  them  the  appearance 
of  corpulent  little  elephants,  ran  wildly  across  fields 
to  see  the  show,  intimating  meanwhile  by  shouts  and 
gestures  that  they  fully  grasped  the  enormous  signifi- 
cance of  this  great  haul.  Parents,  with  an  historical 
prescience  that  did  them  credit,  brought  out  their 
little  children  to  gaze  on  the  train-load  of  fallen  white 
men  passing  by. 

And  how  shall  I  describe  the  way  in  which  the 
Chinese    regarded   the    Japanese?      To    borrow    M. 


366  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

Berard's  fine  comparison,  they  seemed  to  lock 
this  victorious,  kindred  people,  whom  the  infallible 
Occident  had  declared  to  be  smitten  by  the  same  in- 
feriority as  themselves,  as  Homeric  soldiers  might  be 
supposed  to  look  upon  comrades  who  had  all  at  once 
and  without  effort  assumed  the  mighty  casques  and 
armour  of  those  vast  gods  whose  weight  made  the 
axle-trees  of  their  chariots  creak. 

Meanwhile  the  Russians  talked  of  their  capture  just 
as  if  they  had  been  captured  by  the  Germans  or  the 
English  or  any  other  race  of  kindred.  They  failed  to 
grasp  the  fact  that  the  Germans  and  the  English  are 
their  brethren,  while,  to  all  Europeans,  the  Japanese 
are  as  mysterious  and  incomprehensible  as  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Mars.  They  failed  to  see  that  they  were 
prisoners  of  this  strange  and  monstrous  Asia,  which, 
since  the  time  ot  Herodotus,  Europe  has  constantly 
regarded  with  distrust  and  hatred,  not  unmixed  with 
fear.  They  were  captives  to  the  vague,  legendary 
Cipango.  They  failed  to  see  the  fact,  clear  as  the  sun  in 
the  heavens,  that  history  had  opened  a  new  account, 
that  the  axis  of  the  earth  had  shifted,  that  the  Universe 
had  entered  on  an  entirely  new  phase.  They  were  as 
little  alive  to  the  tremendous  nature  of  the  occasion  as 
was  Columbus's  cabin-boy  when  the  New  World  was 
first  sighted.  Not  since  the  days  of  the  Golden  Horde, 
since  the  days  when  Russian  princes  had  to  kneel  in 
person  before  the  Khan  of  Serai,  has  Russia  endured 
such  a  gigantic  humiliation.  No  such  disaster  has  be- 
fallen the  White  Race  since  the  time  of  the  Mongols. 
Adowa  was  nothing  in  comparison  with  it.  No 
such  disaster  befell  the  Russians  in  the  recent  war. 
There  were  not  many  Chinese  to  see  the  shame  of 


FROM  LIAOYANG  TO  DALNY         367 

Port  Arthur,  while  Ta-shih-chiao  and  Liaoyang  were 
practically  barren  of  captives.  But  the  publicity  of  this 
dishonour  may  be  gauged  by  the  fact  that  for  two 
months,  according  to  the  jubilant  Japanese  calculation, 
it  would  take  a  train  like  the  one  in  which  I  travelled, 
running  daily,  to  convey  all  the  Russian  captives 
through  Manchuria  to  Dalny.  By  the  end  of  that 
time  the  Manchurian  peasant  might  well  be  excused 
for  believing  that  the  entire  White  Race  was  tilling 
the  soil  of  Japan  under  the  whip  of  the  Japanese  slave- 
driver. 

The  shame  was  so  flagrant,  so  glaring,  that  one  felt 
reluctant  to  regard  it,  just  as  he  would  feel  reluctant 
to  regard  the  shame  of  a  man  dragged  naked  to  prison 
in  broad  daylight  through  howling  streets.  One  longed 
to  shut  his  eyes.  One  wished  for  the  darkness  to  come 
and  hide  the  horror,  for  some  natural  catastrophe  to 
take  place  and  distract  the  universal  attention.  One 
wished  to  be  small  and  beardless  like  a  Japanese.  One 
felt  ashamed  of  being  white,  inasmuch  as  his  white 
skin  exposed  him  to  some  of  the  unspeakable  reproach. 

It  were  nothing  if  the  disgrace  had  been  fictitious, 
temporary,  but  it  was  real  and  eternal.  Some  sixteen 
months  before,  General  Wogack  had  told  the  statesmen 
of  Peking  that,  if  Japan  dared  to  attack  Russia,  she 
would  be  crushed  like  a  fly  on  the  wheel  of  a  war- 
chariot.  During  their  sullen  retirement  from  Liaotung 
and  the  Valu,  the  Russians  had  declared  that  they  were 
only  enticing  the  Japanese  to  their  doom,  and  that 
very  soon  they  would  roll  down  like  a  tidal  wave,  not 
only  on  Port  Arthur,  but  on  Tokio.  Yes,  the  Russians 
were  now  rolling  swiftly  towards  Port  Arthur  and 
Tokio,  but  not  exactly  in  the  manner  of  a  tidal  wave. 


368  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

The  man  who  had  borne  the  White  Man's  burden, 
to  the  easternmost  limits  of  the  Asiatic  Continent,  the 
lineal  successors  of  Alexander,  Crassus,  and  Heraclius 
in  their  revenge — Greek,  Roman  and  Byzantine — on 
Asia,  was  now  being  borne  along  himself  by  some 
of  the  fluttered  folk  and  wild  whom  he  had  come  to 
civilise,  while  I,  much  to  my  astonishment,  found  my- 
self guarded  by  Japanese  soldiers  and  figuring  promi- 
nently as  one  of  the  new-caught,  sullen  peoples. 

We  were  an  army  of  long-bearded  patriarchs  escorted 
by  a  handful  of  smiling,  chubby-cheeked  school-boys. 
Truly  the  Russians  are  a  docile  folk.  If  we  had  been 
all  English  or  American  captives,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  we  should  have  made  short  work  of  the 
handful  of  Japs  who  were  guarding  us,  and  imme- 
diately afterwards  have  made  tracks  westward  for  the 
Liao  river,  only  a  day's  march  distant.  But  what  did 
these  poor  Russians  know  of  the  Liao  river  or  of 
Chinese  neutrality  ?  As  little  as  a  sheep  being  led  to 
the  slaughter  knows  of  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act. 

We  could  now  see  of  what  enormous  value  to  Japan 
were  her  three  lines  of  communication,  the  line  from 
the  Yalu  which  Kuroki  had  opened  up  and  in  which 
Kawamura  had  worthily  trod,  the  line  from  Dalny,  and 
the  line  from  Yinkow.  Over  the  two  last  lines  came 
an  enormous  quantity  of  supplies,  not  only  by  train 
but  by  road.  This  advantage  alone  would  have  been 
almost  enough  to  secure  the  victory  for  Japan. 

It  was  war — or  at  least  the  memory  of  war  and  the 
preparations  for  war — all  the  way  down  to  Dalny. 
Enormous  stores  of  supplies  at  Liaoyang,  Ta-shih- 
chiao  and  elsewhere  along  the  line.  Japanese 
soldiers  at  every  station,  Japanese  soldiers  convoying 


I 


FROM  LI AO YANG  TO  DALNY  369 

transports,  the  Chinese  seeming  to  exist  only  for  the 
purpose  of  working  on  the  railway  or  of  driving 
waggons. 

What,  I  wonder,  will  these  lads  from  Niigata  and 
Kagoshima  and  Aomori  think  of  the  boasted  white 
man  when  this  war  is  over  ?  Forty  years  ago  the 
white  man  was  a  mysterious  being  in  Japan,  an 
objectionable  being  perhaps,  but  one  possessed  of 
diabolical  powers  and  therefore  to  be  cultivated.  The 
Japanese  have  pretty  well  analysed  him  now.  Half  a 
century  ago  the  "  black  demon-ships  "  of  the  American 
Admiral  Perry  excited  awe  and  terror  as,  spouting 
smoke,  they  steamed  into  Yedo  Bay.  Some  Japanese 
who — like  Admiral  Togo — were  boys  of  ten  years 
old  then,  know  a  thing  or  two  about  these  "  black 
demon-ships  "  now. 

Later  still,  we  find  England  bombarding  Shimono- 
seki  simply  because  Shimonoseki  had  not  behaved 
with  proper  respect  to  white  men,  although  these 
particular  white  men  were  not  Britishers.  In  those 
days  England  believed  in  making  common  cause  with 
her  white  brethren  against  the  yellow  race,  and  that 
feeling  has  scarcely  died  out  yet  among  the  English 
in  Japan.  Many  of  these  people  used,  after  the 
Japan-China  War,  to  complain  of  the  overbearing, 
I'm-as-good-as-you-are  style  of  the  Japanese  officers, 
meaning  that  the  white  race  was  treated  as  if  it  were 
not  superior  to  the  yellow.  What  reputation  is  now 
left  to  the  white  race  in  Japan  ? 

On  went  the  train  with  its  load  of  captives.  Station 
after  station  it  passed.  As  the  names  of  some  stations 
were  cried  out,  the  Russians  raised  their  heads  with 
the  air  of  men  who,  in  a  foreign  land,  hear  familiar 

2  A 


370  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

words.    They  had  heard  the  names  of  Russian  defeats 
— Haicheng,  Ta-shih-chiao,  Telissu,  Kinchow. 

It  was  midnight  when  we  passed  Ta-shih-chiao,  with 
its  long  line  of  provision  stores  which  Mishchenko's 
Cossacks  might  so  easily  have  destroyed  on  the  previous 
January.  It  was  morning  when  we  came  to  Telissu,  with 
its  broken  bridges  and  overturned  locomotives — the 
only  relics  of  the  great  battle  that  remained. 

At  Kinchow  the  Russian  barracks  still  stood,  also 
some  huge,  damaged  Russian  guns.  Many  of  the 
prisoners  left  the  train,  but  not  to  weep  over  these 
reminders  of  their  lost  dominion.  It  was  only  to  get, 
for  the  purpose  of  making  tea,  some  of  the  hot  water 
which  a  Chinese  coolie  was  distributing.  But  the 
Chinese  coolie  ordered  them  away  with  a  threatening 
wave  of  a  stick  and  insisted  on  serving  the  Japanese 
first.  The  Japanese  looked  on,  laughing  in  the  good- 
natured,  self-complacent  way  in  which  one  laughs  at 
an  imbecile.  They  laughed  until  their  eyes  looked 
like  two  oblique  slits,  at  the  big,  uncouth,  bearded 
babies  waddling  after  them,  meek,  docile,  dirty,  utterly 
humiliated. 

At  some  distance  apart,  a  well-groomed  group  of 
Japanese  officers,  station  functionaries  and  doctors 
had  collected,  and  were  smiling  in  an  affable  and 
patronising  way  at  the  awful  specimens  of  humanity 
that  disfigured  the  landscape.  Beside  them  orderlies 
held  magnificent  Russian  horses,  some  of  the  wide- 
strewn  spoils  of  Port  Arthur. 

Dalny !  the  name  brought  vividly  to  my  mind  the 
first  visit  which  I  paid  to  Liaotung,  in  September 
1903.  I  recalled  the  profound  impression  of  Russian 
might  the  place  made  on  me  then.      I   recalled  my 


FROM  LIAOYANG  TO  DALNY  371 

first  sight  of  that  fine  European  town,  the  easternmost 
limits  of  a  White  Empire,  of  Europe,  my  first  glimpse 
of  the  harbour  fit  to  shelter  navies,  of  the  enormous 
piers  built  not  for  an  age  but  for  all  time. 

This  monument  of  Russian  might  was  now  an 
eternal  monument  of  Japanese  bravery.  This  fine 
European  town  was  Japanese.  This  frontier  post 
of  Europe  had  ceased  to  be  European.  This  harbour 
sheltered  only  Japanese  ships.  These  piers  echoed 
only  to  the  triumphant  clink  of  Japanese  "  geta." 

At  Dairen  I  met  three  other  correspondents  who 
had  been  captured  at  other  parts  of  the  battle-field — 
M.  Ludovic  Naudeau,  of  the  Journal  (Paris),  Mr. 
Richard  Little,  of  the  Chicago  Daily  News,  and  Baron 
Bilder  von  Kriegelstein,  of  the  Berlin  Lokalanzeiger. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FROM  DALNY  TO  JAPAN  AS  A  PRISONER 
OF  WAR 

The  most  interesting  sea  trip  I  ever  made  in  my  life 
was  the  trip  from  Dalny  to  Ujina,  Japan,  in  the  middle 
of  last  March.  I  went  as  a  Japanese  prisoner  of  war 
in  a  hospital  ship,  the  Awa  Maru,  a  fine  little  vessel, 
formerly  on  the  Nippon  Yusen  Kaisha's  European 
run,  with  a  German  captain  in  command  of  her,  and, 
down  in  the  engine-room,  two  canny  Scotch  engineers, 
who  were  making  big  pay  but  were  mortally  afraid 
that  if  they  went  hame  to  their  ain  countrie  they  would 
be  promptly  run  into  gaol  under  the  "  Foreign  Enlist- 
ments Act." 

The  number  of  wounded  Japanese  on  board  that 
boat  was  considerable,  and  the  way  in  which  the 
privates  were  accommodated  in  tier  upon  tier  of 
shelves  in  the  hold  was  marvellous  and  economical. 
Japan  did  wonderful  things  in  the  late  war,  but 
nothing  more  wonderful  than  the  way  in  which  she 
cut  down  expenses  without  sacrificing  efficiency,  pre- 
senting in  this  respect  a  great  contrast  to  Russia, 
which,  although  comparatively  a  poor  country,  spent 
money  with  a  lavishness  which  would  make  even 
wealthy  nations  like  America  or  Great  Britain  stand 
aghast. 


FROM  DALNY  TO  JAPAN  373 

Without  paying  anything  for  it,  however,  Japan 
derives  from  her  geographical  situation  advantages 
which  all  the  gold  in  the  Russian  treasury  could  not 
buy.  The  Russians  brought  their  wounded  by  jolting 
carts  to  the  railway,  and  such  of  them  as  survived 
that  preliminary  trial  were  brought  by  jolting  trains  to 
Chita,  Verkhnyudinsk  and  Irkutsk,  where  they  ran  a 
good  chance  of  dying  from  ennui  in  the  monotonous 
Siberian  plains,  while  the  Japanese  wounded  could  in 
a  few  days  be  transported  from  the  battle-field  to  the 
loveliest  islands  in  the  world. 

The  change  from  dusty  Manchuria  to  the  clean  sea, 
the  bright  sky,  the  green  islands,  the  snowy  seagulls, 
the  glad  vinous  air,  the  sunshine  sparkling  on  the 
polished  brasswork  of  Awa  Maru,  the  snowy  billows 
dancing  before  the  prow,  the  white  foaming  water 
spouting  continually  from  the  condenser  at  the  side, 
the  sea  churned  into  foam  underneath  the  propeller, 
the  deck  as  white  and  spotless  as  the  snowy  quarter- 
deck of  a  British  warship,  the  clear-cut  horizon, — this 
change  was  so  great  that  I  felt — well,  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
just  drunk  a  deep  draught  of  some  rare  wine. 

A  narrow  white  fringe  of  crumpled  water  leaped 
before  the  bows  and  formed  on  each  side  an  ample 
band  of  tossing  creamy  surf,  running  back,  swift  as  a 
mill-race.  Behind  the  screw  the  carded,  torn  water 
rushed  away  like  the  stream  below  a  cataract.  On 
every  side  stretched  a  glassy  sea,  glassy  save  where 
we  cut  through  it,  and  there  it  effervesced,  and  one 
could  see  myriads  of  white  air-bubbles  dancing  below 
the  surface  and  showing  distinctly  against  the  deep 
blue.  I  spent  hours  listening  in  the  intervals  between 
the  rhythmic  beats  of  the  calm,  pulsating  engine,  to 


374  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

the  delicious  fizz  of  the  water,  and  watching  the  creamy 
foam  that  mantled  on  its  surface,  and  the  little,  joyous, 
crested  wavelets  rushing  back  gracefully,  like  sea- 
nymphs,  in  feigned  alarm  from  the  rude  touch  of  the 
keel. 

The  first  astounding  thing  we  noticed  once  we  got 
out  of  sight  of  land  was  that  there  was  no  dust !  Air 
— real  air — without  a  solitary  speck  of  dust !  Was  it 
possible  ? 

The  four  correspondents,  who  had  passed  a  year  in 
Central  Manchuria,  looked  in  one  another's  eyes 
amazed,  and  all  asked  the  same  question  simul- 
taneously :  M  No  dust  ? "  It  was  almost  disquieting. 
It  was  as  if  some  ever-present  phenomenon,  absolutely 
necessary  in  the  economy  of  nature,  were  by  some 
strange  chance  missing ;  as  if  we  had  suddenly  found 
ourselves  in  a  sinless  world. 

How  came  it  that  we  could  at  last  see  the  blue  sky 
above  us,  the  white  fleecy  clouds  ?  We  seemed  to  be 
regarding  nature  through  some  wonderful  optical  instru- 
ment which  heightened  the  colours,  cleared  the  air, 
made  all  things  marvellously  and  exuberantly  distinct. 
For  my  own  part,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  looking  again  on 
the  world  of  my  childhood,  that  world  which  had  all 
the  glory  and  the  unexpectedness  of  a  new,  brilliantly 
painted  wooden  horse,  but  which  had,  alas  !  for  such  a 
long  time  past  been  common,  grey,  and  stale. 

It  is  on  occasions  like  this  that  one  realises  how 
much  we  owe  to  the  sea.  It  makes  nations  clean, 
great,  and  adventurous.  A  single  turn  on  the  clean 
wind-swept  deck  of  the  Awa  Maru,  "  fierce  with  the 
flavour  of  illimitable  seas,"  is  enough  to  show  how  this 
war  was  won,  is  better  calculated  than  a  cart-load  of 


FROM   DALNY  TO  JAPAN  375 

learned  treatises  to  explain  the  predominance  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon. 

And  to  imagine  that  few  of  these  Russian  soldiers 
have  ever  before  gazed  upon  the  sea  !  To-day  ought 
to  be  a  red-letter  day  in  their  lives,  but,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  isn't.  Their  minds  have  been  too  cramped  by 
a  long,  vegetable-like  existence  in  Siberia  to  be  capable 
of  solving  at  a  glance  the  riddle  of  the  Deep.  As  well 
expect  a  man  who  has  never  listened  to  music  to  appre- 
ciate Wagner  at  the  first  hearing. 

In  their  attitude  toward  the  sea  these  soldiers  belong 
to  the  ancient  world,  to  the  school  of  Horace  and 
Dr.  Samuel  Johnson.  The  only  things  in  the  ship  that 
seem  to  interest  them  are  the  mysterious  orifices  from 
which  they  can  get  hot  water  to  make  tea. 

There  are  on  this  ship  two  cabins  superior  to  the 
others,  and  the  Japanese  have  given  both  of  them  to 
the  captured  correspondents.  The  material  comforts 
are  beyond  praise,  and  the  consideration  shown  us 
makes  us  feel  like  princes.  Really,  it  is  not  good  for 
a  war  correspondent  to  get  captured  by  the  Japanese ! 
He  is  liable  to  imagine  that  he  is  a  minister  pleni- 
potentiary. He  runs  the  risk  of  degenerating  into  a 
sybarite. 

When  Nippon  next  draws  the  sword  I  should  not, 
however,  advise  any  newspaper  correspondent  to  get 
captured  by  the  Japanese  if  he  can  help  it ;  for  Japan 
is  on  her  good  behaviour  this  time,  and  next  time  she 
can  permit  herself  to  indulge  in  the  usual  barbarities  of 
Christian  nations. 

When,  in  the  red  rays  of  the  sinking  sun,  the  bin- 
nacle flamed  like  a  pillar  of  gold,  a  sudden  revulsion  of 
feeling  seized  me.     Would  I  never  more  live  with  the 


376  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

free  wandering  people  of  the  Transbaikal?  Was  I 
back  again  in  this  artificial  life  from  whose  trammels 
I  thought  that  I  had  for  ever  emancipated  myself? 
Would  I  never  again  press  the  hand  of  Serge  Ivano- 
vitch  or  Nicolai'  Mikhailavitch,  or  give  orders  to  my 
faithful  Philipoff,  or  listen  to  the  entrancing  old  Malo- 
russky  melodies  in  the  u  Sobranie,'5  or  see  the  Cossacks 
dance  the  gay  u  Kazatchok  "  ?  With  a  desire  that 
was  almost  pain,  I  longed  for  the  society  of  the  rude 
friendly  Cossacks,  in  whose  sad  superstitions  and  songs 
and  mysticism  there  was  so  much  to  remind  me  of  my 
own  folk,  the  merry,  melancholy  Gael.  I  longed  for 
old  Mukden.  I  hated  these  snug  berths  with  their 
immaculate  linen.  I  pined  for  the  sleep  in  the  open 
air  with  the  solemn  moon  overhead,  the  free  wind  of 
heaven  blowing  on  my  face,  the  large  vague  sounds 
of  the  night  coming  wafted  gently  like  fairies'  whispers 
o'er  the  dim  swaying  harvest  fields,  the  tethered  horses 
nosing  around  in  the  vicinity,  sometimes  tumbling 
awkwardly  to  the  ground  asleep,  sometimes  kicking 
and  whinnying  and  raising  an  uproar  fit  to  wake  the 
whole  "sotnia."  I  heard  again  the  reassuring  sound  of 
the  sentry's  footsteps,  I  heard  him  calm  the  frightened 
horses  with  soft  musical  Slavonic  sounds  such  as  a 
mother  might  use  to  soothe  a  fretful  babe.  Again  was 
I  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  gentle,  continuous  munching  of 
my  faithful  pony  "  Sobersides." 

Neither  the  deep  philosophy  of  M.  Naudeau  nor  the 
sparkling  wit  of  Dick  Little  sufficed  to  reconcile  me  to 
my  sumptuous  imprisonment,  and,  as  late  that  night  I 
sat  on  the  deck  of  the  Awa  Marti  while  the  foam- 
flecked  sea  rushed  past  like  a  flood  in  the  calm  radiance 
of  the  electric  lights  on  board,  I  thought,  with  a  heart 


I 


FROM  DALNY  TO  JAPAN  377 

full  of  unutterable  sadness,  of  the  bivouac,  the  night 
alarm,  the  joyous  ride  with  the  Transbaikalians  in  the 
red  of  the  morning,  the  creak  of  leather,  the  tinkle 
of  steel,  the  clickety-clack  of  the  horses'  hoofs,  and 
sorrowfully  reflected  that  in  all  probability  I  would 
never  see  those  days  again,  that  never  again  would  I 
gaze  so  close  on  the  glorious  face  of  danger.  I  felt 
that  the  leaden  hand  of  peace  had  descended  on  me, 
that  the  most  interesting  chapter  in  my  life  had  come 
to  an  end,  that,  like  all  picturesque  and  interesting 
things,  the  Cossacks  were  coming  to  an  end  too. 

After  having  tasted  of  the  horror  and  the  sublimity 
of  war  I  was  to  return  to  the  contemplation  of — nay, 
more,  unfortunately,  to  an  active  part  in — that  sordid, 
eternal  squabble  for  pence  which  they  call  peace — a 
squabble  in  which  there  is  no  red  cross,  no  quarter, 
no  regard  for  age  or  sex,  no  truth,  no  dignity,  not  a 
single  redeeming  feature. 

Farewell,  O  Cossacks  of  the  Transbaikal !  I  shall 
always  hear  your  melancholy  songs  resounding  in  the 
infinite  immensities  of  Russia.  I  shall  always  hear  the 
hoof-beats  of  your  little  ponies  ringing  in  boundless 
waste  places.     But  yourselves  I  shall  never  see  again- 

It  may  seem  a  humiliating  and  unmanly  confession 
to  make,  but  I  must  confess  that  my  anguish  was  such 
that,  instead  of  going  to  bed  like  the  good  boitrgeois 
I  now  was,  I  sat  for  half  the  night  on  that  cold 
deserted  deck,  weeping  in  secret,  like  a  child. 

Our  companions  in  the  first-class  are  all  wounded 
Japanese  officers  going  home  to  places  whose  names 
sound  like  music — Omori,  Arima,  Oiso,  Hanada,  Nara, 
Tosa,  Mito,  Orio.  They  wear  spotless  white  ''kimonos," 
with  a  small  red  cross  on  the  shoulder,  and  they  look 


378  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

far  better  in  them  than  they  would  in  foreign  dress 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Russian  wounded  look 
in  their  "kimonos"  like  men  in  their  night-shirts.  Small, 
slender,  beardless,  gentle,  young,  moving  noiselessly 
about  in  their  "waraji"  or  straw  sandals,  they  remind 
one  of  Franciscan  nuns.  Two  years  ago  I  would  have 
laughed  with  contempt  if  you  had  told  me  that  these 
men  would  hurl  headlong  from  the  city  of  Mukden  an 
army  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  Russians. 

To  me,  fresh  from  the  Russian  camp,  everything 
about  these  Japanese  officers  is  as  striking  as  if  they 
came  from  another  planet,  but  two  things  especially 
strike  me :  one  is  their  youth,  the  other  is  their 
gentleness.  Accustomed  for  over  a  year  to  married, 
middle-aged  Russian  lieutenants  and  captains,  I  feel  it 
odd  to  find  myself  among  a  shipful  of  officers  most  of 
them  not  over  twenty-three  years  of  age,  and  not  one 
of  whom  is  married.  It  is  like  being  in  a  boys'  school 
or  in  the  warrant  officers'  mess  on  board  a  British  gun- 
boat, say  the  Espiegle.  Russia  sent  to  this  war  her 
old,  grey-bearded,  grandfatherly  reservists.  Japan 
sent  the  cream  of  her  manhood.  The  result  is  clear 
for  all  men  to  read.  It  is  also,  like  everything  else  in 
the  topsy-turvy  world,  paradoxical.  The  enthusiastic 
youth,  with  strong  limbs  and  with  a  long  life  before 
him,  throws  that  life  away  with  a  laugh  ;  the  fretful, 
pessimistic  grey  head,  with  only  a  few  sordid  years  to 
live,  hugs  his  life  as  if  it  were  valuable. 

The  gentleness  of  the  Japanese  officers  is  hard  to 
describe.  In  no  other  country  is  there  such  an  officer. 
America,  England,  France,  Germany,  Russia,  have  all 
in  their  armies  men  of  much  the  same  type — but  it  is 
a  type  which  is  not  found  in  Japan.     Some  drink  more 


FROM  DALNY  TO  JAPAN      379 

than  others,  but  all  of  them  drink.  Some  are  gayer 
than  others,  but  all  of  them  are  gay.  It  is  only  a 
question  of  degree. 

A  timid,  girlish  youth  who  enters  the  British  or 
American  army  soon  changes  his  character  or  leaves 
the  army.  An  ocean  of  tradition,  old  as  Julius  Caesar, 
sweeps  away  either  him  or  else  his  little  sand-heap  of 
principle  or  prejudice.  Missionaries  and  strict  parents 
may  deplore  this  state  of  things,  but  men  of  the  world 
recognise  that  ample  allowance  must  be  made  for  the 
overflowing  vitality  required  in  one  who  embraces  the 
military  profession.  Gordon  may  be  enshrined  in  the 
British  Nonconformist  heart,  and  even  military  men 
may  like  him,  now  that  he  is  dead  ;  but  the  language 
British  officers  use  about  living  comrades  of  the 
Gordon  type  is  not  fit  for  publication. 

You  cannot  both  eat  your  cake  and  have  it.  If  you 
want  an  army  you  must  nerve  yourself  to  stand  a  lot. 
You  cannot  expect  it  to  be  a  Sunday-school.  Old- 
fashioned  parents  sometimes  imagine  that  they  can 
find  for  their  little  Francis  Xavier  a  holy  regiment. 
They  can  never  find  it.  They  could  not  have  found  it 
among  the  Crusaders  or  in  the  Papal  Guards.  It  does 
not  exist.  It  never  existed.  It  is  a  contradiction  in 
terms. 

In  the  Japanese  army,  however,  there  seems  to  be 
no  tradition  of  boisterousness.  I  noticed  this  during 
my  residence  in  Japan  ;  I  noticed  it  in  Manchuria  ; 
and  now  again  I  noticed  it  on  the  Awa  Maru.  It 
would  almost  seem  as  if  the  Japanese  army  borrowed 
asceticism  from  their  enemies  the  Jesuits,  even  as  the 
Jesuits  borrowed  some  points  in  their  organisation 
from  the  army. 


380  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

If  the  Azva  Maru  had  been  a  Russian  boat  you 
could  not  have  heard  yourself  speaking  for  the  noise  in 
the  dining  saloon.  Orderlies  in  top  boots  would  be 
tumbling  over  one  another  in  their  haste  to  execute 
the  orders  of  their  respective  masters.  Cold  ham, 
novels  by  Danchenko,  spilt  beer,  the  Novoe  Vremya, 
smashed  match-boxes,  somebody's  revolver  (loaded), 
a  number  of  cigar  ends,  a  half  empty  box  of  cigarettes, 
and  a  bottle  of  vodka,  would  be  inextricably  mixed 
together  on  the  table. 

But  the  dining-room  of  the  Awa  Maru  is  like  a 
Trappist  refectory.  White-robed  figures  glide  in,  eat 
sparingly  of  the  simplest  Japanese  food,  converse  in 
subdued  tones  and  then  glide  out  again.  It  is  not 
that  they  are  in  a  low  state  of  health,  for  all  belong  to 
the  "  slightly  wounded  "  class,  the  greater  number  of 
them  suffering  from  simple  bullet  wounds  in  the  arms 
or  legs.     It  is  the  Japanese  custom. 

After  dinner  some  of  them  play  the  game  of  "go," 
while  one,  with  some  musical  pretensions,  gently 
murders  various  simple  European  melodies  on  the 
piano,  always  winding  up  with  the  "  Kee  Mee  Gai 
Yo,"  the  national  hymn  of  Japan. 

They  are  extraordinarily  clean.  As  they  go  bare- 
footed, save  for  their  sandals,  one  can  see  that  their 
toe  nails  have  evidently  been  washed  and  polished  and 
pared  as  thoroughly  as  a  fashionable  lady's  finger 
nails. 

Their  teeth  are  so  white  and  their  mouths  so  well 
washed  that  one  is  inclined  to  believe  that  their  saliva 
consists  exclusively  of  soap  suds.  Their  only  draw- 
back is  their  high  Mongolian  cheek-bones  and  their 
wide  nostrils.     It  is  a  trifling  drawback,   but  Japan 


FROM  DALNY  TO  JAPAN  381 

must  still  spill  oceans  of  blood  before  Europe  consents 
to  overlook  it  completely. 

Some  of  them  are,  however,  of  almost  perfect 
European  type,  straight  eyes,  unobtrusive  cheek- 
bones and  small  nostrils.  I  told  a  young  lieutenant, 
answering  to  this  description,  that  he  was  descended 
from  the  Portuguese  who  settled  in  Kyushu  in  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  but  he  did  not 
appear  to  be  flattered.  No  Japanese  is  complimented 
by  being  told  that  he  has  foreign  blood  in  his  veins. 
Nevertheless,  in  the  case  of  this  young  man,  I  was 
probably  right  in  my  surmise,  for  he  came  from 
Kumamoto,  a  great  missionary  centre  of  the  Portu- 
guese, and  he  looked  more  like  an  Iberian  than  a 
Japanese. 

During  this  trip  I  was  brought  into  closer  relations 
with  the  Japanese  officers  than  ever  I  was  before,  and 
I  must  say  that  I  found  them  very  pleasant  companions. 
Their  courtesy  and  their  clear  pronunciation  of  their 
own  beautiful  language  were  delightful,  while  their 
English  was  quaint,  with  an  unspeakable  charm.  Nor 
were  they  suspicious.  They  told  me  everything  they 
knew  about  the  disposition  of  their  forces ;  but  the 
Japanese  War  Office  need  not  be  alarmed,  as,  in  the 
first  place,  they  did  not  know  much,  and  in  the  second, 
I  have  not  communicated  what  they  told  me  to  any- 
body. 

And  here  I  may  remark  that,  as  a  rule,  the  young 
Japanese  officer  is  as  civil  and  unsuspicious  as  any 
young  English  middy.  During  this  war  he  was,  how- 
ever, under  the  influence  of  the  stern  men  who  were 
born  under  the  rule  of  the  Shogun  and  fed  in  their 
early  days  on  the  iron  traditions  of  the  Samarai ;  but 


382  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

it  is,  in  the  nature  of  things,  impossible  that  this 
stoicism  can  last  much  longer.  I  could,  if  I  liked, 
give  many  instances  of  its  breakdown. 

In  these  days  of  commercialism,  when  many  of  us 
have  become  cosmopolitans  and  few  of  us  are  dis- 
interested patriots,  the  little  Jap  officer  can  teach  us  a 
good  lesson.  He  gets  at  first  only  thirty-three  yen 
fifty  sen  (or  about  £$  IOS-)  a  month,  and  his  salary, 
even  when  he  has  attained  high  rank  in  the  army, 
would  be  scornfully  laughed  at  by  the  average  foreign 
clerk  in  Yokohama.  With  him,  therefore,  money  is 
as  little  an  object  as  it  is  with  a  Carthusian  novice. 

He  devotes  his  life  to  an  ideal — the  glory  of  Dai- 
Nippon — and  if,  philosophically  considered,  it  is  not  a 
very  high  ideal,  it  is  surely  better  than  none  at  all. 
It  is  a  great  privilege  in  these  decadent  days  to  be 
able  to  die  for  something. 

The  conversation  of  these  young  men  was  as  original 
and  piquant  as  the  first  taste  of  an  excellent  strange 
wine  or  the  first  perusal  of  an  interesting  foreign  author. 
I  shall  select  some  examples  of  their  small  talk  : 

"  Russky  no  Heitai-wa  wari-wari  no  teketoshite-wa 
amari  yohaee." 

"  The  Russian  soldier  is  not  worthy  to  be  our 
enemy,  because  he  is  too  timid.,, 

#Jt-  JA.  M.  M. 

TV"  TV  TV"  TV* 

"When  come  Russky  prisoner,  then  I  feed  poor 
man  (aware-nashto)  ;  I  give  whisky,  b(u)randy,  cake 
and  milk.  Prisoner  not  enemy.  .  .  .  Yes,  I  catch 
Russky  prisoner,  many  I  catch"  ("  watakshi-wa  horio 
wo  takusan  toriimashta  "). 

The  above,  by  the  way,  from  a  young  fellow  of 


FROM  DALNY  TO  JAPAN  383 

twenty-one,  with  a  face  so  mild  that  you  would  think 
butter  would  not  melt  in  his  mouth. 

#  #  #  #  # 

A  phrase,  often  repeated  during  the  latter  end  of 
this  trip,  was  "  Nippon-wa  chikai  desu  "  ("  Japan  is 
near  "). 

#  #  #  #  # 

A  youth,  whom  I  congratulated  on  his  luck  in 
getting  home,  responded  seriously  : — "  I  am  not  glad 
to  return  to  my  native  country  because  the  war  is  not 
finished,  and,  when  my  wound  is  healed,  I  shall  again 
return  to  Manchuria." 

#  #  #  #  # 

It  was  surprising  the  unanimity  of  opinion  they 
showed  with  regard  to  their  enemies.  The  Russian 
soldiers  were  good,  the  officers  not  good,  the  generals 
bad. 

It  was  also  surprising  how  unanimous  they  were  in 
thinking  that  Kuropatkin  ought  to  commit  suicide 
sooner  than  accept  a  subordinate  command. 

TT  W  TV"  "A-  -7V" 

"  I  have  a  bottle  of  whisky  for  when  my  courage  is 
gone  ;  severe  attack  of  enemy,  long,  long  march  down 
the  hills,  along  the  valley,  then  whisky  very  grateful." 

#  #  *  #  # 

"Watashi-wa  Tokio-no  Rikogun  dai  gakko  ko  ni 
hairimai  sosh'te  sambo  shoko  ni  narimasho." 

("I  will  re-enter  military  college,  Tokio,  and  from 
that  school  will  become  staff  officer.") 

^  W  ^  W  T& 

One  officer  admitted  that  the  Russians  were  braver 
than  the  Chinese — an  admission  which  reminded  me 
that,  just  before  the  outbreak  of  the  war,   Russian 


384  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

privates  at  Port  Arthur  used  to  admit  that  the  little 
Jap  would  give  them  more  trouble,  perhaps,  than  the 
Chinaman. 

#  •  #  #  # 

It  is  significant  of  the  very  different  spirit  with 
which  the  Japanese  and  the  Russians  entered  on  this 
war  that  an  intensely  poetic,  imaginative  and  musical 
people  like  the  latter  have  no  songs  about  the  conflict 
save  one  very  long  and  very  dull  ballad  written  by  an 
Orenburg  Cossack  ;  while  the  Japanese,  a  materialistic 
people  without  music,  have  produced  a  considerable 
number  of  rousing  war  songs.  Many  of  these  songs 
are  written  to  European  and  American  airs,  but  the 
style  is  typically  Japanese — that  is,  the  hearer  is 
generally  left  to  guess  at  the  meaning,  for  even  Kipling 
himself  is  not  as  cryptic  sometimes  as  a  Japanese 
ballad-maker.  One  song,  a  great  favourite  among  the 
soldiers,  goes  to  the  air  of"  Marching  through  Georgia." 
The  chorus  runs  like  this  : — 

Heerah  !  heerah  !  to  goon  kan  kee  ! 
Heerah  !  heerah  !  to  nisho  kee  ! 
Itsu  tzu  no  chayenju  fu  setsu  ritzu  shee 
Kai  beewo  genishay  you  ya  ! 

A  rough  and  ready  translation  of  the  above  would  be  : 

Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  for  our  sun-burst  flag ! 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  for  our  rising  sun  flag ! 
Five  naval  camps  have  been  formed  ! 
Five  impregnable  war-ports  are  ready. 

Another,  beginning  "Ana  uray-shee  yoriko-bashi," 
may  be  translated  as  follows  : 

O  !  gladly,  gladly,  I  welcome  the  battle ! 

We  are  victorious ! 

Many  foemen  fell  before  us ! 


FROM  DALNY  TO  JAPAN  385 

All  the  enemy  are  gone. 

Glorious,  glorious,  this  victory  for  my  country,  for  my 

Emperor  ! 
Happy  any  of  us  whom  death  awaits ! 

Chorus. 

Fight  for  country !     Fight  for  Emperor  ! 

Mother  said  to  me,  "  Be  patriotic  !  " 

Joyful  will  my  father  be  to  hear  of  this  great  day. 

Homeward,  full  of  honours,  shall  we  finally  return. 

The  happy  day  of  meeting  with  our  parents  is  not  far. 

These  songs  indicate  that  the  Japanese  are  coming 
into  line  with  the  rest  of  the  nations.  In  fact,  they 
are  now  introducing  regimental  singing  and  shouting 
after  the  Russian  fashion.  The  officers  are  even 
beginning  to  drink  Scotch  whisky.  Like  all  novices, 
they  dislike  it,  but  the  time  will  come  when  they  cannot 
do  without  it.  I  have,  therefore,  said  a  good  deal 
about  them  as  they  now  are,  because  in  their  next  war 
they  will  have  lost  all  the  charm  of  originality  which 
they  now  possess. 

As  we  watched  the  sea  one  day  we  saw  a  whale 
spouting,  and  the  Japanese  officers  described  to  me 
with  great  vivacity  the  way  the  fishermen  capture 
whales  at  a  certain  island  called  Oshima,  not  far  from 
Kobe.  The  animal  is  first  lured  into  shallow  water, 
and  made  fast.  Then  follows  a  scene  the  description 
of  which  reminded  me  of  gory  Bacchanalian  rites. 
All  the  people  of  the  village  swarm  round  the  great 
helpless  beast,  and,  while  it  is  still  alive,  make  huge 
wounds  in  it,  into  which  bloody  openings  naked  men 
plunge  bodily,  emerging  again  covered  from  head  to 
foot  with  blood,  and  evidently  intoxicated  by  the 
experience,  for  they  shout  and  dance  like  madmen  and 

2    B 


386  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

slash  the  still  quivering  body  with  their  knives.  The 
Japanese  seemed  to  revel  in  these  horrible  details; 
but  I,  on  the  contrary,  rather  sympathised  with  the  poor 
whale,  just  as  I  had  sympathised  with  Russia  while  that 
gigantic  and  unwieldy  Empire  was  receiving  stab  after 
stab  from  these  fanatical  little  islanders.  To  make 
the  parallel  more  exact,  the  Japanese  had  often  during 
the  great  heats  of  the  previous  summer  charged  the 
Russian  positions  in  a  state  of  total  nudity.  At 
Haicheng,  hundreds  of  them  had  fallen  before  a  strong 
Russian  position  on  which  they  had  rushed  with  no 
clothing  save  rifles,  bayonets,  a  belt  for  carrying  cart- 
ridges, and  a  cap  to  protect  their  eyes  from  the  sun. 
The  pile  of  naked  corpses  which  lay  in  front  of  that 
Russian  trench  reminded  me  of  a  mediaeval  battle-field 
after  the  corpse-strippers  had  done  their  work. 

Japan !  Japan  !  Seventh  Great  Power  !  Enfant 
mystdrieux  of  the  world  !  The  keel  of  the  Awa  Maru 
cuts  at  last  through  the  deep  narrow  seas  which  inter- 
vene between  the  innumerable,  green,  tumbled,  rocky 
islands,  amid  the  gnarled  pines  on  whose  slopes  and 
summits  is  bred  this  extraordinary  race  of  soldiers. 
We  are  now  in  the  lion's  mouth.  We  have  entered 
the  one  country  in  the  world  where  the  white  man  has 
not  prevailed. 

We  are  now  among  those  ultimate,  mysterious 
islands  wherein  the  forlorn  hope  of  Asia  is  fashioning 
its  thunderbolts.  And  what  a  beautiful  land  it  has 
chosen  for  that  deadly  work  !  How  lovely  are  these 
volcanic  peaks  emerging  from  the  most  profound 
abysses  of  Ocean !  The  Japanese  do  not  believe  in 
Adam's  sin,  and  I  do  not  blame  them  for  their  disbelief, 
for  theirs  is  the  world  before  the  Fall.    I  can  well  believe 


FROM  DALNY  TO  JAPAN  387 

their  legends  which  say  that  these  beauteous  isles  were 
born  of  the  gods,  and  grew  up,  little  by  little,  like 
children. 

After  the  cataclysmal  happenings  I  had  seen  during 
the  preceding  year  I  expected  to  find  Japan  unrecog 
nisable  ;  but,  in  sooth,  nothing  had  changed  outwardly. 
The  little  fishers'  huts  were  there  still,  and  the  broad 
semicircle  of  lights  on  our  lee  showed  that  the  fisher- 
man was  still  pursuing  his  toilsome  occupation  in  the 
night. 

And  when  we  went  inland  we  thought,  at  first  sight, 
that  everything  was  much  the  same  as  usual.  The 
despatch  of  half  a  million  men  to  Manchuria  did  not 
seem  to  have  caused  any  sensible  decrease  in  the  male 
population. 

It  was  a  novel  sensation  to  be  taken  through  Japan  at 
this  juncture  as  a  prisoner  of  war,  but  it  was  not  alto- 
gether a  disagreeable  sensation,  as  one  was  compen- 
sated for  his  loss  of  liberty  and  for  the  undesirable 
attention  which  he  excited  by  the  conviction  that  he  was 
assisting  at  the  birth  of  great  events.  There  was  an 
electric  feeling  in  the  air  around  him,  for  though  out- 
wardly all  was  the  same,  a  new  soul  had  entered  into 
Kami-no-kuni,  the  Land  of  the  Gods.  1 1  was  like  passing 
through  England  at  the  time  of  the  Spanish  Armada, 
during  the  breathless  pause  before  Trafalgar.  Verily 
those  were  spacious  days  in  Dai-Nippon  ! 

The  destruction  of  the  Russian  power  in  Eastern  Asia 
has  had  the  same  effect  on  the  yellow  races  as  the  fall 
of  Napoleon  had  on  the  white,  as  the  collapse  of  the 
Roman  Empire  had  on  the  Europe  of  the  time.  It  is 
the  overthrow  of  invincibility. 

The   conveyance   of   the    Russian   troops   through 


388  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

China  as  prisoners  of  war  is  only  comparable  to  the 
carrying  into  captivity  by  the  northern  barbarians  of 
the  generals  and  senators  of  Imperial  Rome.  All  along 
the  China  coast  Russia's  disgrace  was  advertised  by 
smashed  ships,  broken  soldiers,  and  penniless  refugees. 

Hitherto  the  white  man  has  been,  in  Japan,  the 
Sensei,  the  master,  at  whose  feet  the  little  Jap  sat  for 
thirty  years,  and  whose  very  shadow  must  be  respected. 
But,  while  the  war  with  Russia  lasted,  Young  Japan 
regarded  with  a  rather  irreverent  smile  the  spectacle  of 
the  white  master  being  carted  through  the  country 
wholesale,  and  with  no  more  respect  than  a  trainful  of 
returned  empties. 

When  foreigners  first  came  under  Japanese  jurisdic- 
tion, Europeans  in  treaty  ports  used  sometimes  to 
write  indignant  letters  to  the  local  papers,  pointing  out 
that  they  had  seen  with  their  own  eyes  drunken  British 
or  American  men-o'-war's  men  marched  through  the 
street  by  "  native "  policemen,  their  arms  screwed 
behind  their  backs,  and  on  their  faces  a  consequent 
expression  of  anguish  calculated  to  lower  the  prestige 
of  the  white  race  in  the  eyes  of  the  Japanese. 

I  noticed  that  in  1905  these  indignant  scribes  were 
dumb.  Some  of  them  had,  I  suppose,  died  of  apoplexy, 
induced  by  the  sights  they  saw  that  year. 

To  one  who  could  recognise  the  greatness  of  the 
recent  crisis  in  Japanese  history  there  sometimes  seemed 
to  be  lacking  in  the  Japanese  people  a  proper  apprecia- 
tion of  that  crisis.  There  was  a  certain  amount  of 
phlegmaticism  ;  there  was  an  absence  of  appropriate 
external  display.  It  was  as  if  you  gave  a  cabman  a  tip 
of  twenty  pounds  and  he  pocketed  it  with  an  expres- 
sionless face.     But  perhaps  the  same  might  be  said  of 


FROM  DALNY  TO  JAPAN  389 

all  the  great  events  (with  the  possible  exception  of  the 
Deluge)  that  have  taken  place  since  the  world  began — 
of  the  passage  of  the  Rubicon,  of  the  miracles  of  Christ, 
of  the  fall  of  Rome. 

Many  Japanese  gathered  at  the  railway-stations  to 
see  us  pass,  but  a  greater  number  preferred  to  continue 
at  their  ordinary  avocations  in  field  or  shop. 

Those  who  came  to  see  us  were  silent,  but  on  their 
faces  I  fancied  I  could  detect  a  strange,  half-amused, 
half-pitying  expression,  such  as  one  might  expect  to 
see  on  the  faces  of  good-natured  gentlefolk  watching 
the  gyrations  of  a  lord  mayor  in  liquor,  a  man  on  his 
honeymoon,  or  a  person  guilty  of  any  other  pardonable 
weakness. 

This  journey  through  Japan  made  Japan's  victory 
seem  to  us  all  the  more  wonderful.  Our  train  load  of 
hairy  giants,  with  voices  like  thunder,  gazed  with  bulg- 
ing eyes  at  those  frail,  delicate,  fairy-like  people,  and 
asked  themselves,  "  Are  these  the  folk  who  gave  us 
that  awful  beating  ?  " 

Slender  women  passed  with  little  black-eyed  dolls  of 
children  clad  in  rainbow-coloured  garments.  On  the 
platforms  variegated  infants  tottered  towards  happy 
chubby-cheeked  mothers  not  much  older  apparently 
than  themselves.  In  ten  years  more  some  of  these 
children  will  be  Japanese  officers. 

A  youth  in  a  "  kimono  "  and  with  a  startling  extent  of 
bare  leg  sauntered  home  from  the  village  bath,  singing 
like  a  lark.  In  a  month's  time,  I  said  to  myself,  that 
youth  may  be  one  of  the  iron  legionaries  of  Nogi. 
Gentle  girls  with  eyes  turned  up  towards  the  temples, 
looked  at  us  with  infinite  sadness.  A  young  man 
passed  by,  carrying  in  his  arms,  without  the  slightest 


390  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

trace  of  self-consciousness,  his  own  tiny  baby;  and  the 
Russians  did  not  know  whether  to  wonder  most  at  so 
boyish  a  person  being  a  father  or  at  so  small  a  baby 
being  capable  of  independent  existence. 

Often  we  passed  southward-bound  trains  of  soldiers, 
trains  of  ammunition,  trains  full  of  horses.  The 
soldiers  were  young,  hardy,  filled  with  youthful  enthu- 
siasm ;  the  stations  were  gaily  decorated  in  their  honour 
with  Rising  Sun  flags  and  lanterns,  and  crowded  with 
friends  come  to  see  them  off. 

Afar,  on  the  hillsides,  we  could  see  new  troops 
drilling,  advancing  cautiously  against  an  imaginary 
enemy,  carrying  off  "  wounded,"  going  through  all 
sorts  of  military  evolutions  with  the  zest  of  born 
soldiers,  and  at  the  same  time  with  the  solemnity  of 
priests  engaged  in  some  solemn  rite.  Imperial  Guards- 
men pranced  about  like  fierce  dolls  on  horseback. 
Formerly  I  used  to  laugh  at  them  when  they  came 
a  cropper.  On  this  occasion  I  didn't.  Groups  of 
demure  "  nesan,"  groups  of  bare-legged  boys  with 
children  on  their  backs  watched  them  seriously. 

A  very  young  soldier  with  a  very  new  uniform, 
made  of  fine  cloth  and  evidently  by  a  good  tailor,  also 
with  a  painfully  new  sword  attached  to  his  person  by 
straps  and  buckles  that  seemed  to  have  come  out  of  the 
harness-maker's  hands  only  the  day  before,  came  into 
our  carriage,  followed  at  a  respectful  distance  by  his  old 
father,  who  had  probably  come  to  see  his  son  off  to 
the  wars,  and  who,  after  the  lapse  of  an  hour  or  two, 
offered  him  rice,  lighted  his  cigarette  and  attended  on 
him  generally  as  if  he  were  a  god.  So  might  the 
father  of  Marcus  Curtius  have  treated  his  son  before 
his  departure  for  that  yawning  chasm  in  the  forum ; 


FROM  DALNY  TO  JAPAN  39t 

and  such  a  reversal  of  the  relations  usually  existing 
between  parents  and  their  children  would  be  no  less 
remarkable  in  ancient  Rome  than  it  is  in  modern 
Japan. 

All  the  officers  who  from  time  to  time  accompanied 
us  as  ordinary  passengers  had  been  wounded,  most  of 
them  in  that  Place  of  Death,  Port  Arthur.  Every  one 
of  the  young  soldiers  who  mounted  guard  over  us  in 
the  little  Japanese  house  wherein  we  were  confined  at 
Shizuoka  had  been  wounded  in  Manchuria,  some  of 
them  repeatedly  wounded ;  but  all  were  intensely 
anxious  to  start  again  for  the  front. 

One  brisk  young  fellow,  who  had  got  permission  to 
go,  was  as  envied  by  his  comrades  as  a  schoolboy  who 
gets  home  before  the  holidays.  He  came  to  me  in 
my  picturesque  little  lath-and-paper  prison  to  bid  me 
goodbye,  and  I  remember  that  he  was  accompanied 
by  a  bright-eyed  companion  somewhat  older  than 
himself,  with  whom  he  was  on  such  terms  of  joyful 
intimacy  that  I  thought  they  were  merely  "pals." 

But  the  companion  turned  out  to  be  his  father  ! 
11  Isn't  he  young?  "  said  the  son  to  me  later  on,  looking 
after  the  retiring  form  of  his  parent,  his  eyes  glistening 
with  filial  pride  and  affection. 

In  this  extraordinarily  strong  desire  of  the  private 
to  get  to  the  front  lay  the  secret  of  Japan's  success. 
The  meanest  soldiers  and  coolies  in  her  army  were  mad 
to  win,  while  the  Russians  were  generally  indifferent. 
But  it  would,  of  course,  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that 
in  this  respect  the  Japanese  are  unequalled  in  the 
history  of  the  world.  The  conscripts  of  Montmirail, 
the  Americans  who  fought  at  Bunker  Hill,  the  British 
tars  of  Nelson,  the  Germans  of  1870,  were  all  quite  as 


392  WITH  THE  COSSACKS 

fanatic  and  probably  more  capable  than  the  Japanese 
soldier  of  to-day.  But  it  is  too  much  to  expect  that 
the  French,  British,  Americans  or  Germans  will  dis- 
play, in  defence  of  their  respective  possessions  in  the 
Far  East,  the  same  fanaticism  as  they  displayed  in 
fighting  for  their  national  existence  and  their  homes. 
So  far  as  I  can  see,  therefore,  the  Japanese  are  bound 
to  have  it  all  their  own  way  in  the  Far  East  for  a 
long  time  to  come.  But  I  question  whether,  at  the 
apex  of  their  prosperity,  they  will  enjoy  anything  like 
the  national  happiness  which  is  theirs  to-day.  Success 
will  bring  satiety.  Knowledge  will  bring  disillusion- 
ment. They  will  learn,  alas  !  that  Matsuhito  is  the 
last  Mikado  who  is  divine.  Time  and  wealth  and 
factory  servitude,  the  great  corroders  of  all  martial 
virtue,  will  gradually  take  the  fine  edge  from  off 
their  valour. 


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