Meanwhile, having turned abruptly away from the _Suvoroff_, our fleet
had steamed off, gradually inclining to starboard so as not to give the
Japanese a chance of crossing its T, which they evidently were trying
to do. The consequence was that both belligerents moved on the arcs of
two concentric circles. Ours on the smaller--the Japanese on the larger.
_About 4 p.m._ it seemed as if fortune for the last time was
endeavouring to smile upon us. In the midst of the thick smoke which
was pouring from the damaged funnels, from the guns which were in
action, and from the fires on board, and which mingled with the mist
still lying on the water, the enemy’s main force seemed to separate
from and lose sight of ours. Japanese reports, of which I have availed
myself, comment very briefly and somewhat obscurely on this event.
Nothing is clear save that Togo, believing our fleet was somehow
breaking through to the north, went thither in search of it. Kamimura
being of a different opinion proceeded with his cruisers in a south and
south-westerly direction. At least, the above will alone explain the
glowing panegyrics which I find in the reports entitled “The Prowess of
Admiral Kamimura.” If it had not been for this “prowess,” possibly the
fight would have ended on 27th May, and our fleet would have had time
to close up and recover.
Steering on a south and afterwards south-westerly course, Kamimura
heard a heavy cannonade proceeding to the west. He accordingly hastened
there to find Admiral Kataoka attacking (till now with little success)
our cruisers and transports. Kamimura, commencing to take an active
part in the fight, then came upon our main body, which, having almost
described a circle with a 5-mile diameter, was returning to the spot
where the _Alexander_ had made her abrupt turn, and round which the
_Suvoroff_ was so helplessly wandering.
_It was about 5 p.m._
I was standing with Kursel in the lower battery smoking and talking of
subjects, not in any way connected with the fight, when suddenly we
seemed to be in the midst of the fleet, which, devoid of all formation,
was moving northwards. Some ships passed to starboard--some to
port--the _Borodino_--Captain Serebryanikoff--leading. The _Alexander_,
badly battered and with a heavy list--lying so low that the water
almost came into the portholes of the lower battery--was still
fighting, firing with such of her guns as were serviceable. I did not
see her, but was told that the whole of her bows, from the stem to the
12-inch turret, were torn open.
Having closed up to the main body, the cruisers and transports steamed
astern and somewhat to port--attacked by detachments of Admiral
Kataoko’s squadron. (In addition to Kataoko himself, Admirals Dewa,
Uriu, and Togo junior were also there.) Kamimura remained further to
starboard, _i.e._ to the east--also heading for the north.
“Portmanteaus” were still raining on us. Word had been received from
the engine-room that the men were being suffocated and rapidly falling
out, as the ventilators were bringing down smoke instead of air; soon
there would be no men left to work the engines! Meanwhile, the electric
light grew dim, and it was reported from the dynamo engines that steam
was scarce.
“Torpedo-boats ahead!”
We rushed to our only gun (the other had been found to be past repair),
but it turned out to be the _Buiny_, which happened to be passing us,
and was on her own initiative coming alongside the crippled battleship
to enquire if she could be of any assistance.
Kruijanoffsky was ordered by the flag-captain, who was standing on
the embrasure, to semaphore to her (with his arms) to “take off the
Admiral.”
I was watching the _Buiny’s_ movements from the battery, when suddenly
the Admiral’s messenger, Peter Poochkoff, hastened towards me.
“Please come to the turret, sir! a torpedo-boat has come alongside, but
the Admiral won’t leave.”
I ought to mention here that Rozhdestvensky had not been to the
dressing station, and none of us knew how badly he was wounded because,
to all enquiries when he was hit, he angrily replied that it was only
a trifle. He still remained sitting on the box in the turret, where he
had been placed.
At times he would look up to ask how the battle was progressing,
and then would again sit silently, with his eyes on the ground.
Considering, however, the state the ship was in, what else could he do?
His conduct seemed most natural, and it never occurred to us that these
questions were merely momentary flashes of energy--short snatches of
consciousness.
On the arrival of the torpedo-boat being reported, he pulled himself
together, and gave the order to “Collect the staff,”[26] with perfect
clearness, but afterwards, he only frowned, and would listen to nothing.
Assisted by Kursel I crept through the open half-port of the lower
battery, out on to the starboard embrasure in front of the centre
6-inch turret. I was in need of help, as my right leg had become very
painful, and I could only limp on the heel of my left.
The boatswain and some sailors were at work on the embrasure, sweeping
overboard the burning _débris_ which had fallen from the spar-deck
above. Lying off our starboard bow, and some three or four cables
distant, was the _Kamchatka_. Kamimura’s cruisers were pouring as heavy
a fire into her as into us, but she was an easier victim.
The _Buiny_ kept close alongside, dancing up and down. Her Captain,
Kolomeytseff, shouting through his speaking trumpet, asked: “Have you
a boat in which to take off the Admiral? We haven’t!” To this the flag
Captain and Kruijanoffsky made some reply. I looked at the turret. Its
armoured door was damaged and refused to open properly, so that it
was very doubtful if anything as big as a man could get through. The
Admiral was sitting huddled up, with his eyes on the ground; his head
was bandaged in a blood-stained towel.
“Sir, the torpedo-boat is alongside! we must go,” I said.
“Call Filipinoffsky,” he replied, without moving.
Rozhdestvensky evidently intended to lead the fleet after hoisting his
flag on another ship, and therefore wanted to have with him the flag
navigating officer, who was responsible for the dead-reckoning and
safety of manœuvres.
“He will be here in a minute; they have gone for him.” The Admiral
merely shook his head.
I have not laid stress on the fact that before transferring him to
another ship it was necessary to try and arrange some means of getting
him there.
Kursel, with the boatswain and two or three sailors, had got hold of
some half-burned hammocks and rope from the upper battery, and with
these had begun to lash together something in the shape of a raft on
which to lower the Admiral into the water and put him on board the
torpedo-boat. It was risky, but nothing else was to hand.
The raft was ready. Filipinoffsky appeared, and I hurried to the turret.
“Come out, sir! Filipinoffsky is here.”
Rozhdestvensky gazed at us, shaking his head, and not uttering a
syllable.
“I don’t want to. No.”
We were at a loss how to proceed.
“What are you staring at?” suddenly said Kursel. “Carry him; can’t you
see he is badly wounded?”
It seemed as if it was only for these words and the impulse they
supplied for which we were waiting. There was a hum of voices and
much bustling about. Some forcing their way into the turret, took
hold of the Admiral by his arms and raised him up, but no sooner had
he put his left leg to the ground than he groaned and completely lost
consciousness. It was the best thing that could have happened.
“Bring him along! Bring him along! Splendid! Easy now! the devil! Take
him along the side! Get to the side, can’t you? Stop--something’s
cracking! What? his coat is being torn! Carry him along!” were the
anxious shouts one heard on all sides. Having taken off the Admiral’s
coat, they dragged him with the greatest difficulty through the narrow
opening of the jammed door out on to the after embrasure, and were just
proceeding to fasten him to the raft, when Kolomeytseff did, what a man
does only once in his life, and then when inspired. My readers who are
landsmen will not realise all the danger of what we were to attempt,
but sailors will easily understand the risk. Kolomeytseff brought his
vessel alongside and to windward of the mutilated battleship, out of
whose battered gun ports stuck her crippled guns, and from whose side
projected the broken booms of her torpedo-nets.[27] Dancing up and down
on the waves the torpedo-boat at one moment rose till her deck was
almost on a level with the embrasure, then rapidly sank away below;
next moment she was carried away, and then again was seen struggling
towards us, being momentarily in danger of staving in her thin side
against one of the many projections from this motionless mass.
The Admiral was carried hurriedly from the after to the bow embrasure,
along the narrow gangway between the turrets and the battered side
of the upper battery. From here, off the backs of the men who were
standing by the open half-port, holding on to the side, he was lowered
down, almost thrown, on board the torpedo-boat, at a moment when she
rose on a wave and swung towards us.[28]
“Hurrah! the Admiral is on board!” shouted Kursel, waving his cap.
“Hurrah!” cheered every one.
How I, with my wounded legs, boarded her, I don’t remember. I can only
recollect that, lying on the hot engine-room hatch between the funnels,
I gazed at the _Suvoroff_, unable to take my eyes off her. It was one
of those moments which are indelibly impressed upon the mind.
Our position alongside the _Suvoroff_ was extremely dangerous, as,
besides the risk of being crushed, we might, at any moment, have been
sunk by a shell, for the Japanese still poured in a hot fire upon both
the flag-ship and the _Kamchatka_. Several of the _Buiny’s_ crew had
already been killed and wounded with splinters, and a lucky shot might
at any moment send us to the bottom.
“Push off quickly!” shouted Kursel from the embrasure.
“Push off--push off--don’t waste a moment--don’t drown the Admiral!”
bawled Bogdanoff, leaning over the side and shaking his fist at our
captain.
“Push off--push off!” repeated the crew, looking out of the battery
ports and waving their caps.
Choosing a moment when she was clear of the side, Kolomeytseff gave the
order “Full speed astern.”
Farewell shouts reached us from the _Suvoroff_. I say from the
“_Suvoroff_,” but who would have recognised the, till recently,
formidable battleship in this crippled mass, which was now enveloped in
smoke and flames?
Her mainmast was cut in half. Her foremast and both funnels had been
completely carried away, while her high bridges and galleries had
been rent in pieces, and instead of them shapeless piles of distorted
iron were heaped upon the deck. She had a heavy list to port, and, in
consequence of it, we could see the hull under the water-line on her
starboard side reddening the surface of the water, while great tongues
of fire were leaping out of numerous rents.
We rapidly steamed away, followed by a brisk fire from those of the
enemy’s ships which had noticed our movements.
_It was 5.30 p.m._
As I have previously remarked, up to the last moment in the _Suvoroff_
we none of us were aware of the nature of the Admiral’s wounds, and,
therefore, the immediate question on board the _Buiny_ was, which ship
was he to board in order to continue in command of the fleet? When,
however, the surgeon, Peter Kudinoff, came to render first aid, we at
once learned of how the matter lay, for Kudinoff declared that his life
was in danger; that he was suffering from fracture of the skull--a
portion of it having entered his brain--and that any jolt might
have fatal results. Taking into consideration the condition of the
weather--a fresh breeze and a fairly heavy swell--he said it would be
impossible to transfer him to another ship. Moreover, he was unable to
stand, and his general condition, loss of power and memory, wandering,
and short flashes of consciousness, rendered him incapable of any
action.
From the _Buiny’s_ engine-room hatch, on which I had chanced to take
up my position on going aboard, I proceeded to the bridge, but found
that I was not able to stand here because of the rolling, and could
only lie. However, while lying down, I was so in the way of those on
duty that the Commander advised me in as nice a way as possible to go
elsewhere--to the hospital.
We were now overtaking the fleet, and the flag Captain decided that
before making any signal, we must in spite of above consult the
Admiral, and this was entrusted to me. Picking my way astern with great
difficulty, I went down the ladder and looked into the Captain’s
cabin. The surgeon had finished dressing the Admiral’s wounds, and the
latter was lying motionless in a hammock with half-closed eyes. But he
was still conscious.
On my asking him if he felt strong enough to continue in command, and
what ship he wished to board, he turned towards me with an effort, and
for a while seemed trying to remember something.
“No--where am I? You can see--command--Nebogatoff,” he muttered
indistinctly, and then, with a sudden burst of energy, added, “Keep on
Vladivostok--course N.23°E.,” and again relapsed into a stupor.
Having sent his reply to the flag Captain (I don’t remember by
whom, but I think it was by Leontieff) I intended to remain in the
ward-room, but there was no room. All the cabins and even the upper
deck were full of men, as, before coming to the _Suvoroff_, the _Buiny_
had picked up over 200 men at the spot where the _Oslyabya_ sank.
Amongst them were wounded sailors who had been swimming about in the
salt water, and others who, when taken up, had been half drowned. The
latter, contracted with cramp, and racked with tormenting coughs and
pains in their chests, seemed with their bluish faces to be in a worse
plight than the most badly wounded.
Passing on to the upper deck I seated myself on a box by the ladder to
the officers’ quarters.
Signals were fluttering from our mast and orders were being given by
semaphore to the torpedo-boats, _Bezuprechny_ and _Biedovy_, which
were now close up to us.[29] We had already caught up the fleet and
were steaming, together with the transports, which were covered, ahead
and to starboard, by our cruisers. Still further to starboard, and
some 30 cables off, was our main force. The _Borodino_ was leading,
and after her came the _Orel_; but the _Alexander_ was nowhere to be
seen.[30] In the distance, still further off, could dimly be made out
in the dusk, which was now rapidly creeping on, the silhouettes of the
Japanese ships--steaming parallel to us. The flashes of their guns
twinkled incessantly along the line, but the stubborn fight was not
yet at an end!
Alongside of me I recognised an officer of the _Oslyabya_, and asked
him what had actually caused his ship to sink?
Waving his arm in a helpless sort of way, and in a voice full of
disgust, he jerked out: “How? it’s not very pleasant to remember.
Absolutely no luck, that’s what sunk her. Nothing but bad luck! They
shot straight enough--but it wasn’t shooting. It wasn’t skill either.
It was luck--infernal luck! Three shells, one after the other, almost
in the same identical spot--Imagine it! All of them in the same place!
All on the water-line under the forward turret! Not a hole--but a
regular gateway! Three of them penetrated her together. She almost
heeled over at once--then settled under the water. A tremendous rush
of water and the partitions were naturally useless. The devil himself
couldn’t have done anything!” he hysterically exclaimed, and, covering
his face with his hands, went on deck.
_About 7 p.m._ the enemy’s torpedo-boats appeared across the course on
which our main force was steering, but rapidly drew off as our cruisers
opened fire on them.
“Perhaps they’ve laid mines!” I thought to myself, and turned on my
box, trying to make myself more easy.
“The _Borodino_! Look! the _Borodino_!” was shouted on all sides.
I raised myself, as quickly as possible on my arm, but where the
_Borodino_ had been nothing was visible save a patch of white foam!
_It was 7.10 p.m._
The enemy’s fleet having turned sharply to starboard, bore off to
the east, and in its place was a group of torpedo-boats, which now
surrounded us in a semicircle from the north, east, and west. Preparing
to receive their attacks from astern, our cruisers, and we after
them, gradually inclined to port,--and then bore almost direct to the
west--straight towards the red sky. (There was no compass near me.)
_At 7.40 p.m._ I still was able to see our battleships, steaming
astern of us devoid of formation, and defending themselves from the
approaching torpedo-boats by firing. _This was my last note._
Feeling weak from loss of blood and from the inflammation of my wounds,
which were dirty and had not been bandaged, I began to shiver. My head
swam, and I went below to get help.
And what of the _Suvoroff_? This is how a Japanese report describes her
last moments:
“In the dusk, when our cruisers were driving the enemy northwards,
they came upon the _Suvoroff_ alone, at some distance from the
fight, heeling over badly and enveloped in flames and smoke. The
division (Captain-Lieutenant Fudzimoto) of torpedo-boats, which was
with our cruisers, was at once sent to attack her. Although much
burned and still on fire--although she had been subjected to so
many attacks, having been fired at by all the fleet (in the full
sense of the word)--although she had only one serviceable gun--she
still opened fire, showing her determination to defend herself to
the last moment of her existence--so long, in fact, as she remained
above water. At length, about 7 P.M., after our torpedo-boats had
twice attacked her, she went to the bottom.”
TO THE EVERLASTING MEMORY OF THE HEROES WHO PERISHED!
COMPOSITION OF THE OPPOSING FLEETS.
RUSSIAN. JAPANESE.
1st Armoured Squadron. 1st Squadron.
_Knyaz Suvoroff._ (_Flag._) _Mikasa._ (_Flag._)
_Imperator Alexander._ _Shikishima._
_Borodino._ _Fuji._
_Orel._ _Asahi._
_Kasuga._
_Nisshin._
2nd Armoured Squadron. 2nd Squadron.
_Oslyabya._ _Idzumo._
_Sissoy Veliki._ _Yakumo._
_Navarin._ _Asama._
_Admiral Nakhimoff._ _Adzuma._
_Tokiwa._
_Iwate._
3rd Armoured Squadron.
_Imperator Nicolay._
_Admiral Senyavin._
_Admiral Apraxin._
_Admiral Ushakoff._
CRUISERS
Cruiser Squadron. 3rd Squadron.
_Oleg._
_Aurora._ 1st Division.
_Dmitri Donskoy._ _Itsukushima._
_Vladimir Monomakh._ _Matsushima._
_Hasidate._
_Chin Yen._
2nd Division.
_Suma._
_Chiyoda._
_Idzumi._
_Akitsushu._
3rd Division.
_Kasagi_
_Chitose._
_Otawa._
_Niitaka._
4th Division.
_Naniwa._
_Takachiho._
Scout Division. _Tsushima._
_Svietlana._ _Akashi._
AUXILIARY CRUISERS.
_Almaz._ 16 Cruisers.
_Ural._
CRUISERS DETAILED FOR CO-OPERATION WITH TORPEDO-BOATS.
_Zemtchug._ _Toyohashi._
_Izumrud._ _Maya._
_Takao._
_Chihaya._
_Tatsuta._
_Uji._
_Yaeyama._
_Chokai._
_Yamato._
_Tsukushi._
DESTROYERS AND TORPEDO-BOATS.
9 Destroyers. 25 Destroyers.
12 Torpedo-Boats, 1st Class.
55 Torpedo-Boats, 2nd Class.
18 Torpedo-Boats, 3rd Class.
PRINTED AT THE EDINBURGH PRESS
9 AND 11 YOUNG STREET.
FOOTNOTES
[1] These cruisers had no armour protection for their guns.
[2] All, except the naval transports carrying war stores, were left at
Shanghai.--A.B.L.
[3] Evidently the _Oslyabya_ was omitted by a printer’s error. She
should come in as the fifth ship, _i.e._ after the _Orel_, and leading
the 2nd armoured squadron.--A.B.L.
[4] Cruel irony! We were attempting to force our way through to our
_base_, and had been ordered to take with us, if possible, everything
in the way of materials and supplies that we might require, so as not
to overtax it. The railway was only able with difficulty to supply the
army, and we were under no circumstances to count upon its help.
[5] “Together” has a literal meaning: the ships all change direction
simultaneously to the same side and at the same angle. By doing this
they take up a new formation, parallel to their former line, and to
starboard or to port of it, moving ahead or not according to the size
of the angle of turning. Shortly after changing direction the order is
again given to turn “together” at the same angle, but to the opposite
side, and the ships thus find themselves once more in single column
line ahead, but at some distance to starboard or to port of their
original course.
“Together” is the direct opposite to “in succession,” when each ship
changes direction as she comes to the spot in which the leading ship
has turned--_i.e._ follows her.
[6] “Samotopy” literally “self-sinkers.”--A.B.L.
[7] Admiral Nebogatoff, with the 3rd squadron, joined the main fleet on
9th May.--A.B.L.
[8] A play upon the words. The Russian translation of “presentiment” is
“feeling before.”--A.B.L.
[9] Fate had not been kind to us. The _Terek_ and _Kuban_ met no one
all the time that they were there, and no one knew of their presence in
those waters.
[10] Verbatim in the context.--A.B.L.
[11] According to Japanese reports, Togo, who was stationed with his
main body somewhere off Fusan, was at this time in complete ignorance
of our whereabouts and was waiting for news from both north and south.
[12] A point = 11¼°.
[13] At Port Arthur the long Japanese shells of big calibre guns were
nicknamed (“chemodani”) “portmanteaus.” Indeed, what else could you
call a shell, a foot in diameter and more than 4 feet long, filled with
explosive?
[14] A flag-sub-lieutenant.
[15] Japanese officers said that after Port Arthur had capitulated,
while waiting for the Baltic fleet, they worked up to their high state
of preparation as follows:--At target practice every gun captain fired
five live shells out of his gun. New guns were afterwards substituted
for those worn out.
[16] According to thoroughly trustworthy reports, the Japanese in the
battle of Tsu-shima were the first to employ a new kind of explosive
in their shells, the secret of which they bought during the war from
its inventor, a colonel in one of the South American Republics. It was
said that these shells could only be used in guns of large calibre in
the armoured squadrons, and that is how those of our ships engaged with
Admiral Kataoka’s squadron did not suffer the same amount of damage,
or have so many fires, as the ships engaged with the battleships and
armoured cruisers. Very convincing proofs of this were the cases of the
_Svietlana_ and _Donskoy_. On 28th May the former was subjected to the
fire of two light cruisers, and the latter to the fire of five. In the
first place, both were able to hold out for a considerable time, and
in the second (and this is most important), they did not catch fire,
although on both ships--the _Donskoy_, which was one of the older type,
and the _Svietlana_, which was like a yacht--there was considerably
more combustible material than on the newer type of battleship.
For a great many years in naval gunnery two distinct ideas have
prevailed--one is to inflict on the enemy, although not necessarily
much (in quantity), severe and heavy damage--_i.e._ to stop
movement--to penetrate under the water-line--to get a burst in the hull
below the water-line--briefly, to put the ship at once out of action.
The other is to pour upon him the greatest volume of fire in the
shortest time--though it be above water and the actual damage caused by
each individual shot be immaterial--in the hope of paralysing the ship,
trusting that if this were done it would not be difficult to destroy
her completely--that she would, in fact, sink by herself.
With modern guns, in order to secure the first of the above ideas,
solid armour-penetrating projectiles must be employed--_i.e._
thick-coated shells (whose internal capacity and bursting charge is
consequently diminished), and percussion fuzes with retarded action,
bursting the shell inside the target. To secure the second idea shells
need only be sufficiently solid to ensure their not bursting at the
moment of being fired. The thickness of their walls may be reduced to
the minimum, and their internal capacity and bursting charge increased
to the utmost limits. The percussion fuses should be sensitive enough
to detonate at the slightest touch.
The first of the above views prevails chiefly in France, the second in
England. In the late war we held the first, and the Japanese the second.
[17] A colonel of the marine artillery--flag gunnery officer.
[18] By the Admiral’s order the iron oil drums, instead of being thrown
away, had been converted into buckets, and these home-made contrivances
were placed about the decks.
[19] In the Battle of Tsu-shima the Japanese losses were:
Killed 113
Dangerously wounded 139
Severely wounded 243
Slightly wounded 42
These figures are sufficiently eloquent, even allowing for the reports
of Japanese officers to be somewhat partial. Almost half of the
casualties (252 out of 537) were killed and dangerously wounded, the
other half were severely and slightly wounded--less than 8 per cent.
The total number was insignificant. Our shells evidently either never
burst, or burst badly, _i.e._ in a few large pieces. The Japanese
bursting charge was seven times stronger than ours, and consisted not
of pyroxylene, but of shimose (and perhaps of something still more
powerful). Shimose, on exploding, raises the temperature one and a half
times higher than pyroxylene. In fact, one might say that a Japanese
shell bursting well did as much damage as twelve of ours bursting
equally well. And this ours rarely succeeded in doing!
[20] The ships nearest to us reported afterwards that the armoured
shield on our after turret had been blown right up above the bridges,
and then was seen to fall crumpled up on to the poop. What had actually
happened was not known.
[21] In order to establish a connection between the facts which I
personally saw and noted down, and in order to be able to explain
the Japanese movements, I shall have recourse to sources which can
hardly be suspected of partiality towards us. I refer to two Japanese
official publications which are both entitled “Nippon-Kai Tai-Kai-Sen”
(“The Great Battle in the Sea of Japan”). The books are illustrated by
a number of photographs and plans taken at different moments of the
fight, and contain the reports of various ships and detachments. A
few quite immaterial differences in description of detail by various
witnesses have not been removed, as they only give the stamp of truth
to the publication.
I must request my readers to excuse the heavy, and at times incoherent
language introduced by me in these quotations. The reason for this
is my wish to keep as near as possible to the original, and, in the
construction of its sentences, Japanese is totally different to any
European language.
[22] In a ship there is no proper church compartment. The church is
only rigged when a service is to be held.
[23] There were probably more here than in the whole of the Japanese
fleet.
[24] Whether this turn was intentional or accidental, owing to the
damage done to her steering communicators, will for ever remain a
secret.
[25] Courland is one of the Baltic Provinces where German is
spoken.--A.B.L.
[26] Of all the wounded members of the staff, who were below, under the
armoured deck, it was only possible to “collect” two--Filipinoffsky and
Leontieff. The former was in the lower fighting position, which was
hermetically separated from the mess deck, and received a current of
fresh air through the armoured tube of the conning tower. (All the same
he had to sit by candle light, as the lamps had gone out.) The latter
was at the exit hatch. The mess deck was in darkness (the electric
light had gone out) and was full of suffocating smoke. Hurrying along
to find the staff, we called them by name; but received no answers. The
silence of the dead reigned in that smoky darkness, and it is probable
that all who were in the closed compartments under the armoured deck,
where the ventilators took smoke instead of air, gradually becoming
suffocated, lost consciousness and died. The engines had ceased to
work. The electric light had given out for want of steam; and no one
came up from below. Of the 900 men composing the complement of the
_Suvoroff_, it would not be far wrong to say that, at this time there
remained alive only those few who were gathered together in the lower
battery and on the windward embrasure.
[27] It was impossible to come up on the leeward side, because of the
smoke and flames.
[28] He was transferred to the _Biedovy_ on the morning of 28th
May.--A.B.L.
[29] The _Bezuprechny_ was ordered to go to the _Nicolay_ and to give
(by semaphore) the late commander’s instructions to the new, _i.e._
Nebogatoff. The _Biedovy_ was sent to the _Suvoroff_ to take off the
remainder of her complement, but the flag-ship could not be found.
[30] She had gone down about 5.30 P.M.
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant
preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected.
Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.
The Diagram of Movements referenced in the Contents is not available.