ACROSS THE INDIAN OCEAN
_March 3rd._--Leaving Nosi Be; in the Indian Ocean.
To-day was full of events. This morning I went on shore to send my
letters and help dispatch others. There was a large crowd at the
post-office. All were hurrying to get rid of their letters by eleven,
when there is a cessation of work there until two o'clock. At noon
the order was given to be ready to get up anchor. Many people did not
succeed in posting valuable packets, parcels, and registered letters.
The latter they threw straight into the letter-box, which was instantly
filled, and had constantly to be emptied.
I was not looking, and the officer who was with me took my registered
letters and put them in the box. I was at that moment putting on stamps
for transmission abroad. I was annoyed. I went round the post-office
into the back yard, and through a window to a room where they were
receiving the letters. I induced a Malagassy to take all the letters
out of the box and look for mine, which among the general heap came
into my hands. I gave all the letters to a clerk, begging him to
send them to Russia registered. I had no time to wait for a receipt.
I had to hurry on board. I had the advantage of being known to the
clerks--firstly because I had often had business with them, and
secondly because I promised them medals and orders. Representations
about this are already made. At the post-office they asked me questions
like this: "Are you leaving to-day or to-morrow? Are you going straight
to Russia from here?" By eleven o'clock I was on board.
It was hard to imagine what was going on this morning on the quay.
Everything was quite covered by goods and provisions. Carts with
bullocks harnessed to them constantly brought loads. All were hastening
with packages to the boats. They were hurriedly closing accounts with
the shore.
Lunch passed off quietly, but then came my benefit. Forgive me; I will
tell you the rest to-morrow. I am so tired I can scarcely sit. I slept
badly last night, and do not feel well. My servant even said, "Look
here, your worship, sleep and rest. You have slept very little while at
the anchorage, and worked hard." That is true. There has been plenty
of work. I shall rest now, if nothing happens to the ships, which God
forbid. Here we are, again on our way. The place where we are going is
still kept secret.
_March 4th._--I must finish my story of yesterday. Soon after lunch
news was received from the _Kamchatka_ that her condenser did not work.
She also reported that a Kingston valve had been torn out, that she was
beginning to fill with water, and that they were putting a mat under. I
thought they would send me to the _Kamchatka_ and keep me there for the
whole voyage. I was sent for by the admiral. I went to the _Kamchatka_,
and found horror and confusion reigning there. In the engine-room
compartment the water was already breast-high. I managed to put it
right somehow. It happened that the Kingston was not torn out, but the
flap in the Kingston pipe was damaged. They shut the flap, not taking
precautionary measures, and ejected it out of the pipe, and water came
in through the opening formed. When the danger passed I returned to the
_Suvaroff_. The admiral sent me to the _Kamchatka_, to remain until the
work was finished. I went there in the duty steamboat. I sent it back
and returned in a rowing-boat to the _Suvaroff_, where another surprise
awaited me. They were unable to hoist the steamboat in the _Aurora_.
The davits were damaged.
I hastened there. In all the other ships the boats were already
hoisted. I set out for the _Aurora_ in the admiral's light whaler,
which is usually hoisted at the last moment. Every moment was valuable.
We had to hurry. The men pulled with all their might. At all costs
the _Aurora's_ steamboat had to be hoisted, otherwise it would have
had to be left behind. The work was strenuous. They hammered, filed,
and bound, rove the falls, and the boat was eventually hoisted. I was
annoyed at having dirtied myself.
You may imagine the need there was to hurry. All this business began
at twelve o'clock, and it was necessary that the fleet should weigh
anchor at three o'clock. Weigh anchor! and the _Kamchatka_ sinking and
a steamboat not able to be hoisted! Besides this, there was a report
from the _Kamchatka_ in the morning that there was a breakage in her
steering arrangements. I took it on myself to say that she could go
with such damages. Nevertheless, I was able to put everything to rights
by half-past two. I breathed freely. The signal was hoisted, and we
began to get up anchor.
The starting of the fleet was a pretty sight. There were forty-two
ships, if you count torpedo-boats and transports. French torpedo-boats
came to escort the fleet. They wished us a prosperous voyage, and
cheered. Our bands played the Marseillaise. Excitement reigns in the
wardroom. Will it be for long? Am I pleased? I cannot understand my own
feelings. On one hand I am anxious about the fate of the fleet; on the
other, there is the possibility of seeing you soon, and the feeble,
feeble hope of beating the Japanese fleet. If by any chance that should
happen, Russia will have command of the sea, and the battle-scenes on
land will be changed in our favour. If we are beaten--then Japan is
strong, very strong.
You know the steamer _Regina_ came to us. At the instance of Japan part
of the provisions and supplies were unloaded from her at Port Said.
How pleased you will be at this! It means that if Japan had wished it,
the _Regina_ would not have come here at all. We only receive what
Japan permits. See what strength this small country exhibits! It is all
thanks to her success in the war.
Just imagine the astonishment of Admiral Nebogatoff's fleet when they
learn that we have gone on without waiting for them. In my opinion it
is a rash step to divide your forces. It would not have taken much
longer waiting for that fleet, as we have already waited two and a half
months at Madagascar.
A flag-officer of our staff has received some secret appointment. He
remained at Nosi Be, and was advanced two and a half months' pay.
When Lieutenant Radekin was at Diego Suarez the French told him the
date of our departure from Nosi Be and of our further course. That
was on February 24th. Radekin wrote down the prediction, sealed it,
and gave it to me to be opened at sea. Just fancy, the date of our
departure was given exactly! The course I cannot verify, as I do not
know it myself.
Yesterday, when it grew dark, the ships lit their lights. The sky was
brilliant with flashing stars. Forty-five ships! What a grand armada!
How difficult it is to direct its movements, and what an enormous
extent it occupies! The admiral only left the bridge at nine o'clock.
We were then exceedingly hungry, and sat down to dinner. Last evening
delays began immediately. The battleship _Orel_ reported that some of
her machinery was broken. The fleet lessened speed, and the _Orel_
steamed with one engine. Something then went wrong with the _Anadir's_
machinery. We waited a whole hour while she put it right. To-day all
are going successfully. I have noticed that for some reason the tale of
damages usually begins at night.
To-day it is gloomy. The sun is not visible. The sea is rather rough.
God forbid that we should have bad weather, especially during the first
nine days. All the ships are heavily encumbered with coal. There is not
a spot on deck free of coal. This has a bad effect on the sea-going
qualities of ships.
I lay down to rest, but could not sleep owing to the heat. I forget
if I told you I sleep completely uncovered, and keep a small piece of
cardboard by me and use it as a fan. Some one has made a bag out of two
nets, and is catching fish from the stern gallery. The weather is calm,
and a great many fish swim after the ship.
Nearly alongside the _Suvaroff_ is the torpedo-boat _Biedovy_.[13] Life
in the torpedo-boat is passed on deck. From the ship we can see how
they dine and all that is going on.
Yesterday a sailor from the _Kieff_ flung himself into the sea and was
drowned. What was his mental condition? Was he afraid that he would be
killed. How strange it is! But I have heard that there are instances
when men, fearing to be killed in action, put an end to themselves.
Probably the fear of death acts so strongly on these men that they are
not themselves. An hour ago a sailor in a fever threw himself overboard
from the _Jemchug_. They lowered two whalers and a gig to pick him up,
and threw him a life-belt; but he fortunately swam to the hospital-ship
_Orel_ and climbed on board. Now he is remaining in her.
_March 5th_ (morning).--Last evening something went wrong with
the machinery of the transport _Vladimir_. We waited while it was
repaired. On the whole we are going very slowly. This morning all the
torpedo-boats but one (the duty boat) were taken in tow. This was in
order that they should not expend coal, which is very difficult to
supply in mid-ocean even when it is comparatively calm. In slightly
rough weather it is useless even to think of coaling.
Last evening a German steamer from Diego Suarez, as she explained on
being asked, overtook and passed us. This is rather suspicious. Why
must she go on the same course as we are going? The route for the
fleet was purposely chosen, being one along which no one ever goes.
Yesterday the _Navarin_ fired to try the carriage of newly placed guns.
The sound of the firing reached the _Suvaroff_. This, I thought, is how
I shall hear the firing when we meet the Japanese. The sounds are not
very loud. Our shots, no doubt, will make more noise.
Slowly, very slowly, we are going ahead. Now and then the fleet
stops, and goes on again with a speed of five to eight knots. There
are varieties of mishaps, breakages in the _Sissoi_, and in the
torpedo-boats _Grosny_ and _Gromky_. The slightest damage delays
all. Do you know to what distance our ships extend, going in several
divisions? Nearly ten versts. If we go on at the same speed we shall
expend a great deal of time before reaching any port. We are going
north-east, and are again approaching the equator.
The ship scouting reported that she saw a light far away. Perhaps
a "chance" vessel, like the one yesterday. In a good cruiser the
Japanese might watch every step of our fleet without being perceived
by us. We are steaming with lights. What is to prevent a fast cruiser,
without lights, from approaching us, ascertaining our position, and
disappearing--and no one will ever suspect such observation. If the
Japanese do not do that now, it is almost certain that they will watch
our fleet when approaching the islands of the East Indian archipelago,
in order that, having chosen a favourable time, they may attack, if not
the warships, at all events the transports. It is very difficult to
defend the latter.
What is Nebogatoff's fleet doing now? Will they really continue their
voyage to the East? It will be a great risk.
_March 6th_ (morning).--In the night we remained three hours at one
spot. Something was amiss with the steering engine of the _Borodino_.
She has not yet put it right, and so is going on the flanks of the rest.
A steamer is coming towards us.
The light which the scouting cruiser saw yesterday, and which she
took for a ship, proved to be a star. They say you can often make the
mistake, seeing a star setting on the horizon. I saw one like it.
Sometimes there is a completely deceptive appearance of a ship's light.
It is related that on one occasion, during the last war with Turkey, a
whole fleet (in the Black Sea) chased a star. No doubt the mistake was
soon found out.
During the cruise life on board passes very monotonously. There are no
events except breakages. All are tired of one another. They converse
little and about nothing, and sit in different corners. I have not been
much in the wardroom lately. I do not play games or the pianola. I sit
mostly in the deck-house, on the bridge, or in the flag-captain's cabin.
There was mass to-day. The weather has become a little rougher. We
are going desperately slowly, so shall not reach a port soon. We
have to cross a whole ocean. Another pleasure is in store for the
fleet--coaling in the open sea.
_Night._--The whole port side of the spar-deck is occupied by oxen and
cows. The oxen for meat and the cows for milk, only unfortunately the
latter do not give any. There are two calves. It is decided to feed
them. They will probably die. In the transports special stalls have
been made for the animals, so that they can endure the motion. There
are none of these stalls in the battleships, and the oxen have to stand
on deck.
_March 7th_ (morning).--Our voyage is continued to the Chagos Islands,
past the chief island, Diego Garcia. There were rumours that Japanese
ships were lying at the Chagos archipelago, which belongs to England.
The rumour may be true. Perhaps there will be a collision near these
islands. The Chagos archipelago consists of small, thinly populated
islands. There is no telegraph cable joining it to the mainland.
There is an artificer in the _Suvaroff_ called Krimmer. He is a very
trustworthy man. I once offered to exchange letters in the event of
the death of one of us. To-day he handed me an envelope with the
following superscription: "In the event of my death I beg you to send
the enclosed letter to its address, and also to dispatch the things I
leave behind. G. Krimmer, 2/3/1905. In the _Kniaz Suvaroff_." I have
not prepared my letter yet. And what can I say in it? I have no secrets
from you. You know everything and what I might say to you in my last
moments.
The route we are following now is little frequented by ships. Never
since the creation of the world have battleships, small cruisers,
torpedo-boats, or a fleet at all similar to ours gone along this
route. What sort of ship is there not with us? Battleships,
cruisers, torpedo-boats, transports, a repair ship, hospital-ship, a
water-carrier, and a tug.
Again the fleet has stopped. The tow-rope of one of the torpedo-boats
has broken. We are going slowly. To-day at noon we have done 675
miles, in all about 1,180 versts, and we have to do 7,000 versts in
order to reach the East Indian archipelago. At 4 a.m. to-morrow all
warships are to coal from the transports which are with us.
_March 8th._--I have been unable to write since this morning. In the
first place, I was going from ship to ship; then there was such an
infernal heat in my cabin that it was useless to think of writing. It
is a little fresher now, 27° R. In the night the tiller rope carried
away in the _Suvaroff_; the confusion was considerable, but I escaped
it.
I was called early this morning, at seven o'clock. All the fleet had
stopped and begun to take coal from the boats, which were loaded from
the transports. At first the weather was calm, although there was a
fairly large swell. The _Aurora's_ steamboat disturbed me. They had
hoisted it in, but I had not seen how they secured it. I wanted to see
it myself. The _Roland_ went about with various orders for ships that
were far from the _Suvaroff_. I decided to go in her to the _Aurora_.
I went in the admiral's whaler and began to curse myself. Getting
out of the whaler was very dangerous and difficult. The _Roland_ had
to deliver packets with orders to ten ships, and by eleven o'clock
she had just been to six. The ships lay far off, and much time was
spent in sending boats with the packets. At twelve o'clock I returned
to the _Suvaroff_ from the _Roland_ in the whaler again. Could you
have believed that I should ever be pulled across the ocean in a tiny
cockleshell?
The swell is an extraordinary thing. It looks quite calm from a ship,
but in reality it is far from being so. I drank a cup of coffee in the
_Roland_.
At first she rolled lightly, but afterwards to such an extent that the
plates fell from the table. When we came near the different ships they
looked at us with curiosity, expected something, and asked the news,
as if we were not in the same fleet. They were given the packets, and
their disappointment was fearful. I was late for lunch and ate in my
cabin. When I entered it from the fresh air, it seemed like a stove.
The heat was intolerable. I drank water with ice in it. A piece was
left. With the greatest delight I rubbed my head and neck with it. I
often do this now. The ice melts instantly.
I went to the after-cabin; landed myself there on a sofa to doze a
little, but it was not to be. I had begun to sleep when an orderly
came and said the admiral required me. The torpedo-boat _Buistry_ had
dented her side slightly, broken a boat, etc. When I had finished with
her I again went to the sofa in the after-cabin.
The coaling will soon be stopped. The ships are moving their engines,
and we shall proceed! It will be difficult in the swell to hoist steam
and other boats on board. The weather was indifferent; but contrary to
expectation, the coaling was fairly successful. Perhaps they will begin
it again to-morrow morning. The fleet does not anchor, but only lies
with engines stopped. The wind and sea continually bring ships towards
each other. Up to now, thank God! everything was all right, with the
exception of the _Buistry_. She ought not to have been brought. She
broke up at Revel, knocked her side in at the Skaw, and now she has
collided with a transport. We went on again twenty minutes ago. Dinner
was late again. I have not been invited to the dining-room.
A curious impression is produced by the boxes or barrels fastened to
the masts of the cruisers for the look-out men. Some of the cruisers
have fastened cages, like boxes, and others have simply suspended
barrels. In these boxes and barrels signalmen stand and watch the
horizon.
They are hung up very high. Without them sailors might easily fall
from the mast. Only the heads and shoulders of the signalmen are
visible now. A monotonous journey again stretches before us. Do you
know how the officers in the wardroom amuse themselves all the evening?
They make the dog listen to the gramaphone. Several pieces did not
please her, and she began to howl. This employment seemed very funny
to many. The gramaphone was purposely placed on deck, and the trumpet
directed straight at the dog.
Nights of alarm have again begun. They suspect the near presence of
Japanese cruisers, which have a base in the English Seychelles Islands,
by which we are now passing.
At the wireless telegraph office they are receiving strange dispatches.
There are more grounds for caution now than there ever were before.
No doubt as the fleet moves forward the chances of a meeting with the
enemy increase. All day I felt fairly well, but towards the evening a
strange depression came over me. Anxiety wrings my heart. I have lost
all interest in everything. They say that the Japanese are near. What
then? It is all the same to me.
I often pass through bad moments. One grieves, rages, censures,
criticises, and condemns everything. Our army is acting independently,
and the fleet does not combine with the movements of the army. The
self-same fleet is split into little pieces, which do not act in
conformity with the movements of the others. Three (or now, perhaps,
two) ships are doing something, or more probably are lying at
Vladivostok. Our fleet is moving east, and the third remains behind
somewhere (where we do not know); and they are collecting some remnants
at Cronstadt and Libau. All these parts do not know what the others are
doing. Can there be success under these conditions? I think that there
are many disorders in the army. There is no method or organisation
anywhere. Among our enemies all is worked out, foreseen, and guessed
beforehand. They conduct war on a scientific programme. Is success
likely to be on our side? No.
Of course, anything might happen. We might win, but it would only be
by chance. With us it is the old system called "Perhaps," and the old
game of trusting to luck. Everything is done anyhow. Not without reason
some one remarked that the "apes were righting the anyhows." To do him
justice, it would be difficult to say a worse or a truer thing.
The _Oleg_ is steaming astern, and other cruisers are ahead and abeam
of the fleet. All the battleships, torpedo-boats, and transports occupy
the centre.
_March 9th_ (8 a.m.).--Six times to-day the tow-ropes of torpedo-boats
have carried away. This is rather often. The _Dimitry Donskoi_ reports
that at night she saw lights of three ships, which were communicating
with searchlight flashes, and were going the same course as ourselves.
Another sailor has died in the _Oslyabya_. He will be buried at sea.
He died the day before yesterday, but the coaling prevented his body
being committed to the deep yesterday. There are frequent deaths in the
_Oslyabya_, and most of them occur when the fleet is under way.
The admiral always had weak nerves, and now especially so. He sleeps
very little, is worried, and gets beside himself at every trifle.
Probably he will not hold out to the end.
11 p.m.--We are going desperately slowly. So far we have made a
thousand miles. If we go by one course there will be 2,800 miles left,
and by another 2,500. This means we have to toss on the sea for fifteen
or twenty days, if nothing happens.
At every step there are breakages and damages. This evening the
_Sissoi_ damaged first her rudder and then her machinery. The tow-ropes
of the torpedo-boats break like threads. The _Buistry_ has again
distinguished herself. She has broken a gun-platform. Soon there will
be nothing to break in her.
In the wardroom they reckon that we have 4,400 miles to do in
thirty-four days. Our provisions are finished, and we shall have to
take to salt provisions (horrid filth). They make jokes, selecting
which of the officers shall be eaten first.
To-morrow it is proposed to coal. It will be difficult to do so if the
swell is as great as it was to-day. Again we shall lose a whole day.
Coaling in our present condition is a very important thing, though
troublesome. The whole deck is encumbered with coal, and even part of
the guns.
_March 10th._--At nine the torpedo-boat _Gromky_ reported that her
rudder was damaged. The divers had to work under water, and there were
many sharks. While they were at work men with loaded rifles stood
ready to defend them. They were clearly visible, as the water is very
transparent.
9 p.m.--From a chance word I gathered that in fifteen days we shall be
at some port. I doubt it. By my reckoning we shall toss at sea much
longer. Slowly, very slowly, we go on. Stoppages are constant. I am
so accustomed to them that I take very little interest in knowing the
reason, and am too lazy to go on deck and find out.
_March 11th._--The _Svietlana_ reports that she sees a steamer ahead on
the same course as ourselves. It is strange that we are going slowly
along an unfrequented route and yet we can catch up a steamer. Even
freight-steamers do not go as slowly as our ships.
_March 12th._--The _Oleg_ and _Donskoi_ report that they see some
lights far away. They are watching them. Perhaps they are English
cruisers. The steamer which the _Svietlana_ saw was apparently a myth.
A boiler in the _Kamchatka_ is damaged, but she does not remain behind.
She began to drop, but when she knew about the suspicious light she
prepared to come on. We are approaching nearer and nearer to the East.
We shall soon recross the equator. Vladivostok seems like the promised
land. Yes; Vladivostok, Vladivostok!
But what if my supposition about Sagalien and Vladivostok are
justified? Where will our fleet go then, and what will it do? The next
time we stop to coal I shall have to pass the whole day on board the
_Gromky_.
They have stopped breaking the tow-ropes in the torpedo-boats. At all
events, they have not broken one for some time.
The _Sissoi_ is keeping back the fleet. There is always something wrong
with her. This morning the _Nachimoff_ joined her. The _Oleg_ reports
that the lights she saw yesterday were not constant. They looked
like sparks flying out of funnels. Perhaps our fleet is following in
the wake of some other ships. By day they hide themselves beyond the
horizon, so we do not see them; and by night they approach us, having
all lights out. The sparks betray their presence. At night, when there
is no moon, it is absolutely dark and very difficult to see.
Our fleet is steaming with lights visible from afar; therefore it is
easy for ships knowing our course to find the fleet in the ocean and to
approach it without danger. We may expect any moment to be attacked at
night. I cannot without horror imagine one thing--that is, that they
will compel us to lie an endless number of days in some Saigon.
Then what will happen? I calm myself with the thought that they will
not allow this, observing neutrality.
Neutrality is a fine word. It is good and convenient only for the
strong. Strength is now on Japan's side, and neutrality serves her
interests and is useful to her.
They say that the admiral declared that if he met a Japanese ship in
neutral waters he would destroy her, remembering the capture of the
_Reshitelny_ (Decisive) by the Japanese. There is neutrality for you! I
did not myself hear Rojdestvensky say this--but knowing his character,
think him quite capable of it. However, this will not happen. The
Japanese are wily. They will not separate their ships, as Russia has
done. God forbid that Japan beats our fleet! The might of Russia will
perish with it for ten years. The fleet will not be reconstructed for
long. But if we beat the Japanese at sea and get command of it, then
Japan is ruined. She will be unable to carry on war, and will not be
able to feed and provide the army.
In Japan itself there will be nothing to eat. It can scarcely happen
so. Even if the mastery of the sea remains with us, England and America
will defend Japan, and Russia will retire, fearing war with these two
countries. The war is bound to end to Russia's disadvantage. How much
money she has wasted! How many men have perished!--and for what?
Shame! Shame! We wallow in shame! How we jeered at the English during
their war with the Boers, at the Italians during their Abyssinian
campaign! I do not know what is going on in Manchuria, but judging
by the time that passed between the battles of Liao-Yang and Mukden
the next great fight will take place in August or September,--in the
event of the Japanese not moving beyond Mukden and acting as they have
hitherto done--that is, very carefully.
By August or September Russia might collect an army.
Where is now the supply depot of our land forces? In Harbin? It may be
that they will have to leave it and retire again. Yesterday I heard
a quarrel among the sub-lieutenants about how many stokeholds there
were in the _Suvaroff_, and how the boilers were placed. Officers who
had been in the ship a year, and who had, by order of the admiral,
kept watch in the stokehold, were quarrelling over these things. How
sad it was, and yet I could not listen to them without laughing! The
Japanese doubtless know our ships better than we do ourselves. Do you
remember what I said before the departure of the fleet? From the very
beginning of the voyage I have seen so many instances confirming my
former opinions. I do not believe in the fleet, however many ships are
in it, and however much they count on them. It is a small matter to
possess warships. It is necessary to profit by their strength. Possibly
the Japanese fleet might be beaten, but it would only be by chance.
_March 13th._--To-day is Sunday. There will be mass. I must go to
church--the service is just beginning. I have not been at all well.
I slept a great deal to-day, and was punished for it. I slept in my
bunk, leaving my port open. There was a fairly heavy sea. The water
splashed in and poured over my feet. I took off my boots and went to
sleep again in wet clothes. I woke from a second douche. A third time
I was splashed over. I rose, and began to change my socks and boots. I
sat at the writing-table. Another wave poured in, and literally wetted
me from head to foot.
Everything on the table was drenched. I had to shut the port. Now it is
so stuffy in my cabin and the air is so steamy that I cannot breathe.
I am writing in the deck cabin. The weather is getting more and more
rough. Perhaps it is for the best--it will be more difficult for the
enemy to attack us.
By the morning we should be at Diego Garcia (one of the islands of
the Chagos Archipelago), where the presence of Japanese ships is
suspected. In any case, I must be prepared to go to-morrow morning to
the _Gromky_, although the weather is such that it will be difficult to
coal. We are going slowly. It is a good thing that a favourable current
is helping us on. During the last twenty-four hours it has advanced us
about fifty versts. This evening all searchlights were lit up until the
moon rose.
_March 14th_ (morning).--What a night it was!--so stuffy and hot that
when I woke not only were the sheets and pillows wet, but the mat as
well.
We had just done half the voyage between Madagascar and the East Indian
Archipelago. We may count not only on torpedo-attacks and ground mines,
but also on a fleet action.
Our voyage to Vladivostok will be very dangerous. We have to pass
through straits and narrow seas. All sorts of meetings and surprises
are possible. They will follow every movement of our ships, choosing
a favourable time to deliver battle or make a torpedo-boat attack.
Some one conceived the fancy that when the whole fleet coaled in the
open sea, and lay with engines stopped, a Russian town had sprung up
in the middle of the ocean, with a population of 12,000 people. If I
reach Vladivostok, a distance which can be passed over in fourteen or
fifteen days will separate you from me. How microscopic it will seem in
comparison with what we have already passed! It will seem quite close
to me.
If there are no delays anywhere, then by the middle of April the
fleet will reach Vladivostok. But what is the use of guessing and
calculating?--a thousand things may yet happen.
It is unfortunate that in the East Indian archipelago there are so
many straits which are long and narrow. There are some which cannot be
passed through in a day, and have to be traversed at night. They might
be mined.
On entering or leaving them when the fleet is spread out, torpedo
attacks might be made. We may expect surprises from torpedo-boats and
from the shores. It is impossible to pass through a strait unperceived.
I have just hit on the idea that we may possibly go to Saigon. On the
way to Saigon a collison will infallibly take place. It may have sad
consequences for me as well as for the others.
Perhaps I shall not be able to send letters. Let us suppose we get to
Saigon. The _Diana_ is lying there. She is officially disarmed. What is
to prevent her joining our fleet? Instead of the _Diana_ a ship like
the _Almez_ might be left. That would be excellent. It would be better
if we were joined by the _Cesarevitch_, _Askold_, and torpedo-boats. It
is difficult to count on this.
All the ships are disarmed in neutral ports. It is a pity we have to
pass through the straits in dark, moonless nights.
_March 15th._--I was called at 5 a.m. in order to go on board the
_Gromky_.
Divers arrived and the work began. The work is greatly hampered by the
swell. The divers are constantly struck by the rudder. I am astonished
at the dog's life they lead on board the torpedo-boats. Whilst
steaming, the vibration is so great that it is impossible to write.
They roll so much that nothing remains on the tables without fiddles
(frames which support tumblers, plates, etc.). The accommodation is
cramped, and it is dirty and sooty.
In addition to all this the fare is disgusting. I remained in the
_Gromky_ until eleven o'clock. It was time to eat, but they did not
think of laying a table. They brought the crew their stchee,[14] and
my appetite left me. There were only four sausages for the officers.
Some officers from the _Kamchatka_, which was lying close by, were in
the _Gromky_. They requested by semaphore that preserves, lemonade,
etc., might be sent from her. I was so hungry that I did not hesitate
to insist on their bringing sardines, ham, bacon, etc. When they
arrived we all threw ourselves on these delicacies with avidity. They
purposely brought more than sufficient, in order to leave the surplus
for the officers of the torpedo-boat. The latter astonished me. They
look upon a lack of food as inevitable. The _Irtish_ should supply them
with provisions, but she fulfilled the duty badly.
The captain asked that his torpedo-boat should be attached to another
transport. I supported the captain's request to the utmost of my
ability, and depicted in vivid colours their famished condition. Life
on board a torpedo-boat is sufficiently penal, but in this one they
starve as well. For the future the _Gromky_ will be attached to the
_Kieff_.
While I was in the _Gromky_ a heavy squall went by on the beam. It was
lucky it did not catch the torpedo-boat.
Several times sharks gathered near the divers, but they saw them in
time and drove them away with rifle-shots. You suddenly see a large,
grey, shapeless thing appearing. It is an ugly and repulsive-looking
shark.
In the _Gromky_ I saw friend Grishka, "the Iconoclast." This monkey
has grown a great deal, and is very amusing. I think I told you about
Grishka. He is the monkey who was the cause of a scandal in the
_Suvaroff_, and was given to another ship. He received the nickname of
the "Iconoclast," because he once stole an ikon out of the cabin and
threw it overboard.
_March 16th_ (evening).--Early this morning I again went to the
_Gromky_. I got there with difficulty. The swell tossed the
torpedo-boat all day. Heavy rain-squalls constantly flew by. The boat
rolled more than 25°. Everything fell about. To sit you had to press
hands and feet against something. How many times I was literally wet to
the skin to-day, and got dry again, it is difficult to say. Under these
conditions the divers had to work. The waves now tore them from the
boat, now beat them against her, now retreating, showing the diver's
heads, now hiding them somewhere in the abyss. They were rocked about
under the water, and were seasick with all its consequences when in
diving clothes. They had to be drawn up, as they were so faint. The
work was desperately difficult. I was astonished that they went into
the water again without refusing.
Picture to yourself the scene. All this was being done in a
torpedo-boat in the midst of the ocean. The boat had been carried
away from the fleet by the swell; we could even no longer see it. The
diving-boat lay alongside the torpedo-boat. In addition to this they
were coaling at the same time. It was a regular hell. The work went on
very slowly.
In order to review the results of my work I sat on an outrigger (I have
already told you what this is) like a bird on a twig. When rolling,
the water now covered my head, now lifted me high. It was horrible,
abominable, foul. It was a good thing there were no sharks.
At last, amid the chaos of waves and foam, I had to go to the
_Suvaroff_ in a whaler. I seized hold of a chain, pressed my feet
against the side, and climbed on deck. I was wet, dirty, and could
scarcely stand from fatigue. And what welcome awaited me? A reprimand
from the admiral, with a cry of "Shameful! you serve on the staff,
and cover yourself with filth. You return at five o'clock, instead of
three." This is my reward! Never, never shall I forget it! True, it is
my first reprimand during the seven months. What could I do? They did
not send a torpedo-boat for me, as they always had done.
Nor was the _Gromky_ at fault. She brought me as soon as ever she
could. When the work was done she had to take the divers to the
_Svietlana_, _Kamchatka_, and _Jemchug_. I was only guilty in that I
was not guilty at all. Having reached my cabin, I changed my clothes,
and instantly fell into a dead sleep.
There was nothing to eat in the _Gromky_, and she could not receive
anything from the transport. They sent a present of a basket of
provisions and a live pig from the _Svietlana_. How pleased the
officers were!
_March 17th_ (morning).--Since last evening we have been going along
the equator.
We are a little to the north. How strange it seems at first! Yesterday
we were in the southern half of the globe, where it was autumn; to-day
we are in the northern half, where it is spring. We have missed a
whole winter. There is news that the _Varyag_ has been raised by the
Japanese.
Possibly they have already been able to repair her, and we may meet her
among the hostile ships. A pleasant encounter! Our ships will fight
against us. What a disgrace!
The _Donskoi_ reports that she sees occasional lights out of funnels on
the horizon. That they are following us is beyond doubt. We shall go
by the straits of Malacca, the length of which is about 1,000 versts.
There will be surprises on going through it, and on leaving it we may
count on meeting the whole of Togo's fleet. Probably among the Japanese
ships will be those the Russians were unable to sink properly at Port
Arthur. I have no confidence in success.
If I were in the place of the Japanese I should let the whole fleet
pass without hindrance to Vladivostok, not risking my own ships in
battle. It would be so easy to make a second Port Arthur out of it. A
siege can be more easily undertaken there (if they have not already
done so). The fortress is worse; there are less stores, workshops, and
docks.
Every advantage is on Japan's side. Her success is almost sure.
_March 18th_ (morning).--The weather is worse. The barometer is
falling. The wind gets stronger and stronger; it has attained the
force of a gale. The _Suvaroff_ inclined three degrees to the wind,
and has remained in that position. My heart beats when I think of the
torpedo-boats. They are being towed. I am very anxious about them. It
will be dark soon. How are they faring now? They are not visible from
the _Suvaroff_. The wind has gone down, but the sea is still big. The
_Bodry_, one of the torpedo-boats, has her mast broken. The _Gromky_
broke her tow-rope, and is going independently.
During the last coaling a steam-cutter from the _Sissoi_ was sunk.
All the crew were saved. The boat incautiously approached the side of
a battleship, which rolled and sank her. In the _Terek_ yesterday a
sailor fell into the hold, and died to-day.
_March 19th_ (morning).--Probably the whole world thought the fleet
would go from Nosi Be to the East, round Australia or the straits of
Sunda. It is proposed to go, as I have said, by the straits of Malacca.
Every one will be astonished at our effrontery.
In a day or so we shall enter on a route where there are many merchant
steamers. This means that in a short time all the world will know the
whereabouts of our fleet and the route chosen.
At a favourable spot the Japanese may meet us. The impending battle
will be one of the most momentous of the war.
Important events will soon now begin to take place. A new phase of the
war which has been so unsuccessful and unfortunate for us is beginning.
We are not going to Saigon, but to Kamranh. It is a small bay, lying
about 350 versts north of Saigon. On shore there is a fort and a
small settlement. There is no telegraph, but apparently there is a
post-office. The fleet will pass in view of Singapore.
Many officers have begun to hide their things behind the armour, in
order to be able to dress themselves after the battle. I do not know
whether to hide anything. We have begun to feel the proximity of the
enemy. I have not yet selected the place where I shall be during the
fight. Of course, during torpedo attacks one should be on deck, so
that, should the ship be blown up and begin to sink, one would not
have to come up from below. A ship in this event may go down almost
instantaneously, like the _Petropavlosk_ and the _Hatsuse_.
_March 20th_ (morning).--Coaling has not taken place to-day. Many
officers confidently rely on the fleet. They look on the four new
battleships, _Suvaroff_, _Borodino_, _Alexander_, and _Orel_, as
invincible. The Japanese will put forth all their power to destroy the
_Suvaroff_, in which is the admiral commanding the whole fleet. The
torpedo attacks and the fire of all guns will be concentrated on the
_Suvaroff_. She will be exposed to the greatest danger. It will be less
dangerous in the other ships, especially in the _Borodino_ and _Orel_.
The Japanese will try to kill the admiral. And what will happen then?
Our ships can scarcely fly to various neutral ports and be disarmed, as
has been done before.
We have been eighteen days at sea, and our port is still far away; but
with each turn of the screw we are nearer and nearer our goal. It is
five and a half months to-day since the fleet left Libau. Scarcely any
one would have supposed that nearly six months would be necessary to
get as far as the straits of Malacca.
The _Donskoi_, _Oleg_, _Orel_, and _Terek_ report that they have seen
lights. Hitherto the appearance of every light interested us; but
now that we are near the theatre of war we regard them with complete
equanimity. Is it not all the same? Would that it were sooner ended!
There are people who are satisfied with the existing state of affairs.
I am surprised at them. Just now there are officers sitting at table
drunk--they are singing. Nothing like it is possible in the Japanese
ships. There, they are preparing for another feast and for other songs.
When shall we get our letters? Hardly before we reach Kamranh Bay.
_March 21st._--There still remains 3,000 versts to Kamranh Bay. They
say that Japanese cruisers are waiting for us there. It will be ten or
twelve days' journey if nothing happens. From there to Vladivostok I
think we shall go at greater speed than now, to get over 5,000 versts.
They are coaling to-day.
I went to the _Bezuprechny_ and _Gromky_ and distributed confidential
packets to the ships. Of course, I did not go to the general lunch. I
lunched instead with the officer of the watch. A curious thing happened
in the _Bezuprechny_. They drew a small shark out of the Kingstons. It
was drawn in by the current. The ships are now forming in battle order.
Probably lunch will be late. To-morrow is the new moon. It will give
little light at night. It is a pity that we shall have to pass through
the straits of Malacca on a dark night, when we may expect the Japanese
to destroy our ships in the narrows.
_March 22nd._--Although I did not feel tired yesterday, I lay down and
slept till the waves splashed in through the port and woke me.
Three sailors were scalded by steam in the _Oslyabya_; it is not yet
known if they are seriously hurt. I have discovered the reason of my
sleepiness yesterday. I began to smoke new French cigarettes. They had
opium in them. It is a pity I have only a hundred cigarettes left. They
are very dear now. I must smoke others, and keep those with opium in
reserve.
The torpedo-boat _Buiny_ has damaged her forward torpedo-tube by
striking the _Vladimir_. Now it will not work.
The fleet will pass through the straits of Malacca in four columns. All
the transports will be in the middle, the battleships on the extreme
right, and the cruisers on the extreme left.
It is curious. You would expect us to be alarmed. We are almost on the
eve of meeting with the enemy's fleet, with his mines, submarine boats,
and torpedo-boats, and yet I am quite calm, even happy. The prospect
of being at Vladivostok in a month's time is so exhilarating. I daily
look at the chart with feverish interest, where the course already run
is shown, and I count the remaining miles to Vladivostok.
Are they despairing in Russia and not counting on Vladivostok being
able to hold out? If on our arrival at Kamranh we learn that it has
fallen, we should then have no base. What could we do then? We should
have to occupy one of the Japanese islands and make it our base--but
that would be bad for the supply of warlike provisions, ammunition,
correspondence, and telegrams. They would not allow a base to be made
at a neutral port. There is a report that the Japanese have made
themselves at home in the islands of the Natuna Archipelago, which
nominally belong to Holland. These islands lie on our course higher up,
north of the strait of Singapore, which is a continuation of Malacca.
How quickly rats swim! Two were thrown overboard to-day. They chased
the ship and climbed up, although the speed was nearly seven knots.
Up to the present the newspapers have not known where the fleet is to
be found. To-morrow we shall pass by the lighthouse of Pulo Way. From
there the ends of the earth will be informed by telegrams.
Strange lights have appeared. Our fleet has been ordered to put out
superfluous lights. Ports are covered with dead lights. We may expect
an attack to-night. At last our wartime has begun.
How many restless nights are before us? How will it all end?
FOOTNOTES:
[13] This is the torpedo-boat which took the admiral and his staff when
the _Suvaroff_ sank in the battle of Tsushima.
[14] Cabbage soup.