Chapter XII THE PASSAGE OF THE YALU. The night passed without alarm, and on the morning of April 30th the guns on the heights above Chiu-lien-cheng began to speak once more. Soon after dawn the Russian General discovered that his left flank was in danger, and withdrew it to a position North of the Ai-ho. Up to this moment General Kuroki was undecided as to the wisdom of disclosing his gun positions. It was a question with the staff whether the bombardment should begin on the 30th day of April or should be reserved for the day of assault. If the artillery opened on the 30th its position North of the main stream of the Yalu would be known to the Russians, who would retire their own guns further into the mountains. After anxious consideration it was determined that the Japanese artillery should remain silent as long as no fire was opened upon the pontoon bridges. In the event of any attempt to destroy the bridges the guns were ordered to reply. Precisely at eleven o’clock, when the sun was at their back and the light was in favour of the Japanese, the Russian guns were directed on the pontoons. There was no longer need for concealment. The Japanese unmasked their batteries near Wiju and on the island of Kontonto. For two hours the duel raged with increasing violence. At first the Russian guns were turned upon some infantry scouts and against the pontoons, but they speedily abandoned these targets and strove to silence the batteries. The gunners on a conical hill, East of Chiu-lien-cheng, were especially active and were distinctly visible against the sky line. Upon this hill the Japanese presently opened a severe and concentrated cannonade with field gun and howitzer. Shell after shell crowned the summit with smoke and flame. Surely nothing could live in that inferno, yet the Russians stood to their guns and answered shell with shell. But so deadly was the fire that courage gave place to discretion, and three dark objects appeared on the slope making their way toward the road that wound into the valley beyond. They were guns and their teams. How slowly they moved through the smoke and flame, as shrapnel rained upon them and common shell rent the earth about them like some mighty convulsion of nature. Not a yard did they cover but the iron leapt upon them with the force of a hurricane. Now a horse rolled over; now a man stumbled forward to rise no more. Still the storm swept over them--one second a blue smoke in the air that told of shrapnel, and the next a geyser of brown earth that marked the explosion of common shell. The scene caught one by the throat and held the breath. It lasted little more than half an hour, but it seemed an age of agony. Life had departed from the dark objects; they lay on the hillside motionless--the dead gunners and their guns.