the 2nd of may was a trying day, for there was a rumour about that we were again to be attacked. the day wore on until the sun slowly sank in the west on its way to hide behind quail hill, and its slanting rays gave a farewell glint of light upon the sea, the hills, and the town. soon all was veiled by the cloak of night; everything behind the huge hills seemed to sleep. but the fortress was not sleeping; it was only pretending, for now and then searchlights flashed from the dark mass, like the eyes of a monster, and their rays wheeled dazzlingly across the sea. yet the monster had not eyes enough; there were only five all told. it was midnight, and the gentle moon above the hills lit up the whole scene. suddenly, as if by word of command, the shore batteries opened fire. a minute passed—a second, a third, and everything was once more quiet; but though silence again reigned, the town was awake, and life was visible in the streets. the vibrating rattle of a machine-gun could be heard in the channel as it fired at an escaping rowing-boat, for one blocker had been sunk. a cutter put out from the sevastopol; in it was the viceroy, alexeieff, going to the gunboat otvajny, which flew the flag of rear-admiral loschinsky, and which was lying right in the narrows by tiger's tail; further forward near the boom itself lay the giliak. again the awful[pg 42] whirlwind of metal thundered, whistled, and roared, seemingly destroying everything that came in its way; the condition of the narrows beggars all description; the water literally boiled with falling shells. on the forebridge of the otvajny, in the very centre of the narrows, stood the viceroy, personally directing the defences, inspiring every one by his calmness under the hail of small shell from the quick-firing guns of the blockers and destroyers. loschinsky, in the conning-tower of the giliak, was methodically directing the repulse of one of the most gallant attacks ever attempted in this world, made by unarmoured steamers against the whole front of a powerful naval fortress. the cannonade increased till individual shots could not be distinguished, but were blended in the thundering echoes.

two rockets shot up from the giliak, and there was silence for twenty minutes, after which fire recommenced and continued almost without ceasing for two hours. three rockets shot up from golden hill, lighting up the narrows and the roads close by. the batteries again ceased fire. in the blinding glare of the bursting rockets a dreadful picture was revealed: against the dark background of the waters, almost in the narrows, lay the sunken vessels, masts and funnels clustered with men. it was only a lull before a fresh storm—a boding silence—for in the distance more blockers were seen to be tearing in. the whole fortress slumbered for a moment, then woke up and turned all its force to beyond the narrows, towards which the doomed vessels, brilliantly lit up in the rays of the searchlights, were dashing at full speed. the enemy's fleet stood afar off on the dark horizon, as if frightened.

but the attempt was all in vain; the narrows were quite clear. out of twelve blockers, ten had ceased to exist—had been absolutely destroyed—and with them two[pg 43] destroyers, and many a japanese hero had been hurled into his cold grave. with morning the fight ended.

this incredible attempt to block the entrance to the harbour in the face of the whole front of the fortress—incredible by reason of its magnificent daring—had failed, thanks to the vigilance of the guard-ships and the skilfully organized mine defences. i venture to assert that the whole honour of repulsing the blockers, and, in consequence, of preserving all our ships from dishonourable inactivity when the enemy were preparing to land, is due almost entirely to the ships of the mining defence and to rear-admiral loschinsky. of nine of the blockers, two were blown up by engineer mines, two by mines laid by steam pinnaces, one by a whitehead torpedo fired from one of the blockers which had been sunk on march 27; three never reached the narrows, but anchored outside and blew up, all on board being killed, and one ran aground at electric cliff.

after dinner on the evening of the 4th i was sitting in the ward-room of the otvajny, where several of the officers were relating their experiences of the previous night. conversation had gradually turned to the doings of the army in the north and the connexion between the desperate attempts to block the entrance and the probable landing of troops in the north, when about eight o'clock an orderly came in and told captain pekarsky that they had called him up on the telephone from golden hill. after a few minutes he returned.

'gentlemen, i've just got a message to say that the enemy have begun landing at petsiwo. the viceroy, in accordance with imperial orders, leaves for mukden to-morrow.'

for a minute we sat silent, for, although it could hardly be called unexpected, the news was depressing.

we were cut off!