I remembered that in the event of the flag-ship leaving the line, the
torpedo-boats, _Biedovy_ and _Buistry_, were to come to her in order
to transfer the Admiral and his staff to another and uninjured ship.
In such circumstances, in order to avoid confusion, until the flag had
been transferred or until a signal had been made as to the handing over
of the command, the fleet was to be led by the ship following the one
which had fallen out of the line.
I do not presume to be able to say whether our other ships could see
that no torpedo-boats had come up to the _Suvoroff_! Whether they
could all see that no signal was possible from the battered, burning
battleship, minus funnels and masts! Whether it ought in consequence
to have been taken for granted that the command naturally devolved on
the next ship according to seniority! and whether she should in some
way or another have shown that she had taken over command! In any case
the _Alexander_ (more correctly, her captain, Bukvostoff) carried out
the orders and did her duty. After the flag-ship had fallen out of the
line, receiving no fresh instructions, she took the lead and continued
the fight.
From the time when I saw the _Alexander_ passing close to us on a
south-easterly course, she steamed for twenty minutes, gradually
inclining to the south in order to prevent the enemy from getting
ahead and crossing her T. At the same time the Japanese, elated by
their first success, again endeavoured to realise their main idea of a
concentrated attack on the leading ship, and so wrapped up were they
in this objective that they went ahead too fast, leaving nothing to
prevent the _Alexander_ passing astern in a north-easterly direction.
She immediately took advantage of this and turned sharp to the north,
calculating with luck to fall in force upon their rear and subject them
to a raking fire. The Japanese in their reports fix the time of this
movement differently; some at 2.40 P.M., others at 2.50 P.M. (the
moment of the sinking of the _Oslyabya_, which under the concentrated
fire of six of Admiral Kamimura’s armoured cruisers had left the line
even before the _Suvoroff_). According to my own calculations, the
latter time was the more likely to be correct. If the enemy’s fleet
had turned “in succession,” as it had done at the commencement of the
battle, this manœuvre of the _Alexander’s_ might have been successful,
but, realising the gravity of the moment, Togo, on this occasion,
gave the order to turn 16 points to port “together.” The manœuvre was
not altogether successful. The 1st squadron (_Mikasa_, _Shikishima_,
_Fuji_, _Asahi_, _Kasuga_, and _Nisshin_) performed it correctly, but
Kamimura, with his cruisers--probably not having made out the signal
and expecting the order to turn “in succession” on to the former
course--quickly passed our fleet as well as his own battleships (which
were on the opposite course), and masked their fire. He then had plenty
of room to turn (he turned “in succession”) and, after overtaking the
battleships, to form single column line ahead.
For a moment confusion prevailed, for which the Japanese might have
paid dearly, but owing to its condition our fleet was unable to reap
the advantage. Making full use of their speed, the Japanese not only
succeeded in righting their distances, but attained their object,
_i.e._ came out across the _Alexander’s_ course, forcing her to the
south.
Through the starboard portholes of our batteries we were now able
plainly to see the _Alexander_, which was almost on our beam and
steering straight towards us--the remainder following her. The distance
rapidly diminished, and with our glasses we could clearly see her
battered sides, broken bridges, burning cabins and spar-deck, but her
funnels and masts were still standing. After her came the _Borodino_,
burning furiously. The enemy had already succeeded in forging ahead,
and we now lay between the fleets. Our ships approached from starboard,
_i.e._ the port side of the _Suvoroff_, and we came under a hot fire.
Our forward 12-inch turret (the only one that was now serviceable) took
an active part in the fight, and no attention was paid to falling
shells. I was wounded in the left leg, but only looked down with regret
at my torn boot! We all waited, holding our breath, watching the
Japanese fire, which was apparently concentrated on the _Alexander_. At
times she seemed completely enveloped in flames and brown smoke, while
round her the sea literally boiled, throwing up great pillars of water.
Nearer and nearer she came, till the distance was scarcely 2,000 yards.
Then--one after another, we saw a whole series of shells strike her
fore-bridge and port 6-inch turret, and turning sharply to starboard
she steamed away, having almost reversed her course, while after her
went the _Borodino_, _Orel_, and others. The turn was hastily made,
being neither “in succession” nor “all together,”[24] and the line
ahead formation was not maintained. A deafening clamour resounded in
our batteries.
“They’ve given it up. They are going off. They couldn’t do it,” I heard
on all sides.
These simple folk had, of course, imagined that our fleet was returning
to the flag-ship in order to rescue her. Their disenchantment was
distressing to witness, but still more was it distressing to realise
the true significance of what had happened.
How pitiless is memory!--A scene never to be forgotten came clearly
and distinctly before my eyes--just such another scene--the same
awful picture. After Prince Utomsky’s signal on the 10th August our
battleships had steamed north-west in the same disorder and just as
hurriedly.
“They couldn’t do it!”
And the awful, fatal word, which I had not even dared to think, rang in
my brain, and seemed to be written in letters of fire on the smoke, on
the battered sides, and even on the pale, confused faces of the crew.
Bogdanoff was standing beside me. I caught his eye, and we understood
one another. He commenced to talk of it, but suddenly stopping, looked
round, and said in an unnaturally calm voice: “We seem to be heeling
over to port.”
“Yes--some 8 degrees,” I answered, and, pulling out my watch and
note-book, jotted down: “_3.25 p.m.--a heavy list to port, and a bad
fire in the upper battery._”
I often afterwards thought: why is it that we hide things from one
another and from ourselves? Why did not Bogdanoff express his thoughts
aloud? and why was it that I did not dare to write even in my own
note-book the cheerless word “_Defeat_”? Perhaps within us there still
existed some dim hope of a miracle, of some kind of surprise which
would change everything? I do not know.
After the _Alexander_ had turned, the enemy’s ships also turned
16 points “together,” and this time the manœuvre was successfully
performed--so successfully, in fact, that it seemed as if they were
merely at drill and not in action.
Steering on an opposite course, they passed under our bows, and from
the _Suvoroff_ it seemed as if we could almost cut into their column.
We inclined to starboard after our fleet. (This was, of course, only
imagination, for, not being able to steer by surrounding objects but
only by compass in the lower fighting position, we were in reality
not moving ahead, but were only turning to starboard and to port;
remaining almost in the same place.) In passing close to us, the enemy
did not miss his opportunity of concentrating his fire on the obstinate
ship which refused to sink, and it was, apparently, now that our last
turret, the forward 12-inch, was destroyed. According to Japanese
reports their torpedo-boats came up at the same time as their fleet and
attacked us unsuccessfully, but I did not see them.
A shell entered the gun port of the fourth (from the bows) 12-pounder
gun of the lower battery on the port side, and it was a lucky shot, for
in addition to carrying away the gun it penetrated the armoured deck.
The water poured into the damaged port, and being unable to run back on
account of the list to port, fell through this hole into the mess deck,
which was most dangerous.
Bogdanoff was the first to call attention to it, and we at once started
to make some kind of an obstacle out of coal sacks, and anything else
that was handy, so as to cover the hole and stop the water getting in.
I say “we,” because the few hands left in the battery could not be
brought to obey orders. They huddled in corners in a sort of stupor,
and we had almost to drag them out by force, and were obliged to work
ourselves to set them an example. We were joined by Flag Torpedo
Officer Lieutenant Leontieff and Demchinsky, but the latter could only
encourage us with words, as both his wrists were bandaged.
_At 3.40 p.m._ a cheer broke out in the battery, which was taken up
all over the vessel, but we were unable to ascertain what had caused
it or whence it had originated. Rumour had it that one of the enemy’s
ships had been seen to sink; some even said two--not one. Whatever may
have been the truth, this cheering had the effect of quickly changing
the feeling on board, and the depression from which we had been
suffering, both on account of the fire which we had seen poured into
the _Alexander_, and because of the departure of the fleet, vanished.
Men who had been skulking in corners, deaf to the commands and even
requests of their officers, now came running to us asking: “Where could
they be of use, and what at?” They even joked and laughed: “Hullo!
that’s only a 6-inch! No more ‘portmanteaus’ now!”
Sure enough, since the enemy’s main body had steamed off, we had only
been subjected to the fire of Admiral Dewa’s light cruisers, which, in
comparison to what we had been under before, was almost imperceptible.
Commander V. V. Ignatzius had remained below after the second wound in
his head had been dressed, and, unable to restrain himself at such a
moment, paying no heed to the doctors, he ran up the ladder into the
battery, shouting: “Follow me, lads! To the fire--to the fire! we have
only got to get it under!”
Various non-combatants in the mess deck (belonging to the hospital),
and men who were slightly wounded and had gone down to get their wounds
dressed, doubled after him. A chance shot struck the hatchway, and when
the smoke cleared away neither ladder, nor Commander, nor men with him,
were in existence!
But even this bloody episode did not damp the men’s ardour. It was only
one in a hundred others.
In the lower battery where, owing to insufficiency of hands, fires
momentarily became more numerous, men came, and work went merrily.
Of the ship’s officers, besides Bogdanoff, there came Lieutenant
Vuiruboff, junior torpedo officer, a robust-looking youth, who, in an
unbuttoned coat, rushed about everywhere giving the lead, while his
shout of “Tackle it! Stick to it!” resounding amongst smoke and flames,
gave strength to the workers. Zotoff came for a short time; he was
wounded in the left side and arm. Prince Tsereteli looked out from the
mess deck, asking how things were going. Kozakevitch was carried past,
wounded a second time, and now dangerously. My servant, Matrosoff,
appeared and almost dragged me by force to the dressing station. I got
rid of him with difficulty, telling him to go at once to my cabin and
get me some cigarettes.
“Very good, sir!” he said, going off as he was bid, and we did not meet
again.
“To the guns! Torpedo-boats astern! To the guns!” was shouted on deck.
It was easy to say, “To the guns!” but of the twelve 12-pounder guns in
the lower battery only one, on the starboard side, was now serviceable,
and there was no chance of using it. The torpedo-boats carefully came
up from astern (according to the Japanese, this was about 4.20 P.M.),
but in the light gun battery aft (behind the ward-room) there was still
one uninjured 12-pounder. Maximoff, a volunteer, on whom the command of
the battery had devolved after the officers had fallen, opened a hot
fire, and the torpedo-boats, seeing that this strange-looking, battered
vessel could still show her teeth, steamed off to wait for a more
favourable opportunity.
This event suggested to me the idea of noting the means we had with
which to protect ourselves against torpedo attack, or, more properly,
to what degree of helplessness we had arrived. There were in the lower
battery about fifty men of the crew--all of various ratings. Among
them, however, were two gun captains. Of the guns, only one was really
serviceable, though the gun captains proposed to “repair” another by
substituting for its injured parts pieces from the other ten which were
quite unserviceable. There was also Maximoff’s gun in the stern light
gun battery.
Having finished my inspection of the lower battery I went through
the upper to the forward light gun battery (not one of the turrets
was fit for action), and I was struck with the picture it presented,
illustrating, more clearly than I had yet seen, the action of the
enemy’s projectiles.
There were no fires; everything that could ignite had already been
burned. The four 12-pounder guns had been torn off their mountings,
and in vain I looked on them for marks of direct hits. None could be
seen. The havoc had clearly been caused by the force of the explosion,
and not by the impact of the shell. How was this? Neither mines nor
pyroxylene were stored in the battery, so the enemy’s shells must have
exploded with the force of mines.
To my readers, walking about the crippled wreck of a ship like this
and inspecting the damage done may appear strange, but it must be
remembered that a peculiar, even extraordinary condition of affairs
prevailed on board. “So fearful as not to be in the least terrible.”
To every one it was perfectly clear that all was over. Neither past or
future existed. We lived only in the actual moment, and were possessed
with an overpowering desire to do something, no matter what.
Having again gone down to the lower battery, I was proceeding to the
stern light gun battery, which I wished to inspect, when I met Kursel.
Verner von Kursel, a Courlandian by birth, and a general favourite
with every one in the _Suvoroff’s_ ward-room, had been in the merchant
service almost since his cradle, and could speak every language in
Europe, though he was equally bad at all of them. When they chaffed him
about this in the ward-room he used to say quite seriously: “I think
that I’m better at German than any other!”[25] He had seen and been
through so much that he never lost his presence of mind, and nothing
prevented him meeting his friends with a pleasant smile.
And so now, nodding his head to me in the distance, he cheerily asked:
“Well! How are you passing the time?”
“Badly,” I answered.
“Oh! that’s it, is it? They don’t seem able to hit me yet, but I see
that you have been wounded.”
“I was.”
“Where are you off to?”
“To have a look at the light guns in the stern and get some cigarettes
from my cabin; I have smoked all I had.”
“To your cabin?” and Kursel grinned. “I have just come from there, I’ll
go with you.”
Indeed, he seemed likely to be a useful companion, as he knew the most
sheltered way.
Having got as far as the officers’ quarters, I stopped in amazement.
Where my cabin and the two adjoining ones had been was an enormous
hole! Kursel laughed heartily, thoroughly enjoying his joke, but
growing angry I waved my hand and quickly retraced my steps. Kursel
overtook me in the battery and offered me a cigar.
The fires in the lower battery had all been got under and, encouraged
by this success, we determined to try our luck in the upper battery.
Two firemen produced some new half-made hoses; one end of them we
fastened to the water-main with wire, and the other we tied to the
nozzle. Then, armed with these and using damp sacks to protect us from
the flames, we leaned out through the church hatch whence, having
succeeded after some little time in putting the fire out which had been
burning in the dressing station we were able to go into the upper
battery. All hands worked splendidly, and we soon had extinguished the
fire in the part assigned to the church. Then another fire started
abaft the centre 6-inch turrets--the place which had been selected, on
account of its being protected, for putting the cartridge boxes of the
47-millimetre guns taken down from the bridges. Their removal had been
well ordered, for no sooner had we set about extinguishing the fire
which was now raging near them than they began to explode. Several of
the men fell killed and wounded, and great confusion at once ensued.
“It’s nothing--it will cease in a moment,” said Kursel.
But explosions became more and more frequent. The new hoses were
destroyed, one after the other, and then, suddenly, quite close, there
was a loud crash, accompanied with the ring of tearing iron. This was
not a 6-inch shell, but the “portmanteaus” again. The men became seized
with panic, and, listening to nothing and nobody, rushed below.
When we went down into the lower battery, bitterly disappointed at our
want of luck just when things seemed beginning to go so well, something
(it must have been a splinter of some kind) struck me in the side and I
staggered.
“Wounded again?” enquired Kursel, taking his cigar out of his mouth and
leaning tenderly over me.
I looked at him and thought: “Ah! if only the whole fleet were composed
of men as cool as you are!”