Under the Dragon Flag | Page 9

noon we saw dense smoke all along the horizon ahead, and a heavy,
dull, rumbling sound reached us which soon made itself unmistakable
as the roar of artillery. We immediately guessed that the squadron
preceding us had been attacked by the enemy. Our escort, if I may so
term it, drew inshore, and I at first thought from their demeanour that
they were going to shirk entering the engagement. If such was their
intention, however, they changed it, and stood boldly on with the
torpedo-boats. We came to a stop, undecided how to proceed. The other
transport which had accompanied us was already in full retreat, and Lin
Wong, in whom discretion seemed very unduly proportioned to valour,
advised a similar course on our part. Chubb and I, however, felt a
strong desire to see the fight, and as we were not now under the
Chinese flag, there seemed no reason why we should not stay to
witness it, particularly as there was no need to let the Columbia be
seen.
We therefore, in spite of the unintelligible protests of Lin Wong, cast
anchor, having hoisted American colours, in one of the numerous bays
that indent the rocky coast of the Liaotung. Then Chubb and myself,
leaving Webster in charge, pulled off in a small boat towards the scene
of action. We kept close to the shore, and had about a mile and a half to
pull before we came abreast of the conflict. With its deepening
thunders bellowing in our deafened ears, we landed where the ground
was high, and ascending the most elevated point we could perceive, had,
with the aid of powerful glasses, a good view of the scene. Terrific
indeed it was--a wide, dense pall of smoke, which there was little wind
to carry off; through the haze the huge reeling shapes of the fighting
vessels, looming indistinctly, vomiting flame like so many angry
dragons, and several of them burning in addition, having been set on
fire by shells; and above all the appalling concussion of the great guns,
like the bursting of incessant thunder-bolts.

By this time it was half-past two p.m., and the battle had been in
progress nearly three hours. Not having seen the commencement of the
affair, we were for some time unable to make head or tail of it. The
ships were mixed up and scattered, and we could perceive little sign of
plan or combination on either side. The first thing that began to make
itself evident as we watched was that the struggle was nearing the coast.
At first the nearest ships had been fully a league and a half seaward;
before we had occupied our position three-quarters of an hour, many
were well within two miles of the coast. So evident was this that Chubb
remarked that half of them would be ashore before the fighting was
over. This of course enabled us to distinguish the vessels better, and we
began to make out evident signs that John Chinaman was getting much
the worst of it. The Japanese vessels, working in concert and keeping
together, as we began to perceive, seemed to sail round and round the
enemy, pouring on them an incessant cannonade, and excelling them in
rapidity of fire and manoeuvring. Some of the Chinese vessels appeared
to me to present an appearance of helplessness, and there was no
indication of combination as amongst their opponents. Not but what
they blazed away valiantly enough, and some of them had evidently
given as good as they got, for more than one Japanese vessel was in
flames. Of course we could not identify these ships, but we could make
out that in numbers and armament they were a fair match for the
Chinese squadron. They appeared to pay special attention to the two
great Chinese ironclads, the Chen-Yuen and Ting-Yuen, one of which at
least had had her big guns, 37-ton Krupps, silenced, though still
contributing to the entertainment with the quick-firing armament.
Shortly after three, the King-Yuen, fired by shells, began to burn
fiercely; she showed through the smoke like a mass of flame, and was
evidently sinking, settling down on an even keel. Three or four of the
enemy circled round, plying her with shot and shell. Finally, with a
plunge she disappeared, and the immediate darkening, as the
smoke-clouds rolled in where the fierce blaze of the burning wreck had
been, was like the sudden drawing of a veil over the spot where
hundreds of men had met their simultaneous doom. The cannonade
slackened, but soon broke out again fiercely as ever. About this time it
seemed as if the Japanese flagship, Matshushima, was about to share
the same fate. She looked all in a blaze forward. The fire, however, was

got under, and later on she