Following the troops I watched them from a distant height forming a _cordon_ around the devoted town, which contains about a thousand houses built Chinese fashion (usually in one storey), two theatres, temples, hotels, and banks, besides the extensive docks fitted with all modern appliances, torpedo factory, a railway, cranes, workshops, and basins for ships and boats. The place is well supplied with water, and later I witnessed a curious scene in those docks.
When I had struggled as near as I deemed prudent, armed with a Japanese rifle, cartridges, and a cap, I fancied I could hear a band playing. A musical welcome from the Chinese was perhaps the most curious of the many curious and contradictory things in China, but it was certainly a military band in the town, while the brigade beyond was storming the forts. I made inquiry as well as I could, and ascertained that the Japanese had already occupied the town, and the band was playing them in with their National Anthem, which I recognised as having already heard on board ship in the hour of victory.
The day was now coming to a close. Golden Hill remained in Chinese hands, and the fighting was for a while suspended. Still Port Arthur was in possession of the Japanese, and the remaining fort when attacked next morning was found empty. The garrison had deserted it in the night.
That night of the 21st November 1894 will be remembered by all who live to think of it. Why? you may ask. Simply because the Chinese were slain in the most savage and unrelenting way in the town. On the hill a chill and piercing wind rose that night, and the sufferings of the wounded must have been terrible. I made my way at dusk, under shelter, behind the hill I had scrambled up before, and found the Japanese lying on their faces still, thickly. The Chinese were lying anyhow on that hill, and on the other slope; half-clothed, nearly always unarmed, and seldom in any "uniform" dress.
[Illustration: THE CHINESE WERE LYING ANYHOW]
These are common instances which indicate the temperaments and courage of the two nations. The Japanese shot in the forehead or chest falls _forward_ and dies. The Chinese I saw were fugitives who had cast away their weapons and clothing the more easily to escape and to be mistaken for civilians. I must add that the Japanese wounded never seemed to complain or cry out. Their fortitude under the most deplorable conditions, amid terrible injuries and wounds, was Spartan-like--heroic.