My swimming kit had meanwhile been taken down into the stokehole, so that when it was handed to me it was not only nearly dry but, what was very much more to the purpose, comfortably warm. Donning it and a fine warm boat cloak, I accompanied the skipper to the deck and walked aft to take a look at the task before me. I found that they had taken the boat in to the very edge of the outer line of the surf, which stretched away inshore of us, line after line, in an apparently interminable procession of breakers, like lines of infantry rushing forward to the assault, vaguely visible in their pallid phosphorescence against the blackness of the starless night. To fight my way to the shore through that wide area of roaring, leaping, and seething breakers promised to be a task that would tax my strength and energy to their utmost limits; but it was a case of necessity, and I had undertaken to do it; therefore, throwing off the borrowed boat cloak, with a word of farewell to the skipper of the boat, I waited for the next oncoming breaker, and dived overboard at the precise moment when it would catch me up in its mighty arms and sweep me, without effort on my part, a good twenty fathoms toward the shore.
B-r-r-r! The water struck icy cold to my warm skin as I plunged deep into the heart of the great arching mass of water, which caught me just as I was rising to the surface and hurled me shoreward with irresistible force, rolling me over and over like a cork as it broke into a long line of hissing, pallid foam. But I knew exactly what to expect, and was fully prepared for it. I therefore allowed it to do with me just what it would, holding my breath and waiting until the breaker had passed ahead and spent its force. Then, striking out strongly as I came to the surface, I swam on toward the next line of breakers, where the same thing was repeated, but each time a shade less violently, until at length, after what seemed like hours, but which, as a matter of fact, could not have been more than about forty minutes of battling with the breakers, my feet touched ground, and a moment later the last breaker, a very mild and harmless one compared with those in the offing, lifted me up and almost gently deposited me on the beach.
Upon hands and knees I crawled up above watermark and then rose to my feet to look about, recover my breath, and get my bearings. After the stinging cold of the water, the air felt quite pleasantly warm, but I knew that I should soon get chilled if I did not keep moving briskly; so, seeing a line of watch-fires about half a mile away, which, from their position, I guessed must be Japanese, I set out toward them at a brisk walking pace, and, the ground being fortunately open in that direction, it was but a few minutes before I found myself unexpectedly halted, with the point of a Japanese sentry’s bayonet gently pressing against my breast. Of course I hadn’t the countersign; but my appearance, and particularly my unconventional garb, must have convinced him of the truth of my story that, being unable to get ashore in any other way, I had swum in from the fleet, with a communication from the Admiral for General Oku, for he passed me on to the next sentry without hesitation; and thus in the course of another ten minutes I found myself in the tent of a certain colonel who not only had heard of me but had also seen me and now recognised me. From him I learned that the general staff quarters were situated about a mile farther inland, on one of the lower slopes of Mount Sampson, to which he very kindly offered to conduct me. But of course I could not present myself before General Oku in bathing rig, and it was not without difficulty that a suit of clothes was at length found into which I could get; but it was managed at last, and off we went, the colonel and I, my companion seeming to be greatly impressed with my swimming feat. “I wonder,” he remarked, “if there is anything that an Englishman would not at least attempt to do!”
Our way led through the Japanese camp, so I had a very good opportunity to observe what the domestic life—if I may so term it—of the Japanese soldier was at the front; and I was surprised to see how thoroughly every possible contingency had been foreseen and provided for, and how many ingenious little devices had been thought out and included in his kit with the object of adding to his comfort.
In due time we arrived at headquarters; and late though the hour was, the General and his staff were all not only awake and on the move, but were holding a sort of council of war, for the purpose of making the final arrangements for the morrow. As it happened, my arrival was most opportune, for the staff were planning the details of an assault that could by no possibility be successful without the assistance of the navy, upon which they were all confidently reckoning, whereas it was my duty to inform them that, unless there came a very quick change of weather, it would be impossible for our ships to co-operate, and I had to explain at length why. This caused an immediate change of plan, the grand assault being provisionally postponed, since there was no prospect whatever at that moment of a change of weather occurring in time.
I delivered my message and produced my map, explaining the various markings upon it and describing the work upon which I had been engaged during the past few days; and I was exceedingly gratified to learn that it would greatly simplify and assist the general’s plans.
It was also satisfactory to know that the Japanese had never had the slightest suspicion of what I was doing, which was tantamount to an assurance that the Russians were equally ignorant. It was amazing to see the facility with which Oku altered his plans. No sooner did he understand that the chances were all against the fleet being able to help him on the following day than he was ready with an alternative scheme; and in a quarter of an hour he had everything cut-and-dried, every officer present was given clear and concise instructions relative to his duties on the morrow, and we were all dismissed with a hint to get what rest we might, as the morrow was to be a busy day. General Oshima, who was in command of the 3rd Division, constituting the Japanese left, very kindly took me under his wing, and found me sleeping quarters in a tent, the occupants of which happened to be out on duty.
Being greatly fatigued after my swim, I slept soundly that night, but was awakened at dawn by the bugle calls, and turned out to see what the weather was like. To my disgust, and doubtless that of everybody else, it was worse than ever; the sky was overcast and louring, with great rags of dirty grey scud flying athwart the face of the heavens from the westward, while the top of Mount Sampson was completely enveloped in mist, which, notwithstanding the gale, clung to the rugged peak and ribs of the mountain very much as the “tablecloth” does to the summit of Table Mountain. There was no fog down where we were, but, what was even worse, we were smothered with blinding and suffocating clouds of dust, for it was a dry gale, and all hands were devoutly praying that the louring sky would dissolve into rain, if only for half an hour, just to lay the dust and so save us from the unpleasantness of being blinded and suffocated. As for the bay, it was just one continuous sheet of foam, while the breakers leapt and boiled for a space of a full mile from the beach. A single glance at it was sufficient to make it clear that it would be impossible for the fleet to co-operate so long as the gale lasted, even if the tossing masts and spray-enveloped hulls of our craft in the offing had not told a similar tale. General Oshima and I walked a couple of miles to the northward along the slopes of Mount Sampson, in order to get a good view of the bay, clear of the northern spur of the Nanshan Heights, just to make assurance doubly sure; but it was scarcely necessary to point out to him the wildly plunging hulls of our ships to make him understand the hopelessness of the case, and that once clearly established, we hurried back to Headquarters to make our report.