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Expecting Torpedo and Submarine Attacks—Delay—Signals—Formosa—Coaling—A Steamer arrested—Love of Secrets—A Possible Japanese Scout—Contraband Ships—Preparations for Battle—An English Trick—A Balloon sighted—No Sign of the Japanese—The Irtish breaks down—Hopes of reaching Vladivostok

NOTE BY MADAME POLITOVSKY

APPENDIX.—OFFICIAL STATEMENT OF THE RUSSIAN
LOSSES IN THE BATTLE

CHAPTER I
BEGINNING THE VOYAGE

August 28th.—Events follow each other so fast that they get confused in the memory.

The return from the club in the morning, a frightened wife with a telegram, the rush from Petersburg to Cronstadt, hurried calls, appointment to the Suvaroff, good-byes, send-offs, a new service, etc., etc.

I am not yet accustomed to my new surroundings.

To-day I bade good-bye to the captain and officers of the Borodino, and to the foremen and workmen. They wished me good luck, drank my health, cheered, and the band played. They evidently had a very friendly disposition towards me.

The parting with the foremen and workmen was cordial. It was very sad to see their doleful faces. They all cried before the end of their farewell speeches. I kissed all and thanked them. They blessed me with the ikon of St. Nicholas. I promised to give them my photograph as a memento. I had nothing else to repay them with. I could think of nothing better.

August 30th.—Yesterday we left Cronstadt. The Emperor overtook the fleet in the Alexandria, and steamed round it. All the time bands were playing, the men cheered, the fleet saluted. It was a superb sight. At times the smoke from the guns was so thick that the nearest ships were not visible. To-day we arrived at Revel at 7 a.m. It is said we are to remain here for nearly a month.

To-day is the Suvaroff's name-day. There was mass. No festivities.

8 p.m.—Such a worry. Nowhere can I find room for myself. When I was working on board the Borodino, as you may imagine, I constantly consoled myself with the thought of rest and of leave. The Borodino is completed. I might now have been free, might now have been living at home with my wife. But ah! fate! It seems to me that I shall not return. My predecessor in this cabin that I occupy went mad and was retired. This may be superstition, but it is nevertheless unpleasant. It is said that to-day the captain of the Asia momentarily lost his head and steered his ship to ram the Apraxin; the presence of mind of the officer of the watch saved the Asia and Apraxin from damage.

October 3rd.—At sea, on the way to the island of Bornholm. Time flies. Daily there are new impressions, worries, gossip, and work. On the eve of our departure from Libau there was prayer, with genuflexions for "Boyarin Zenovie."[1]

Yesterday we had vespers, and to-day mass. Everything so triumphant and showy! The weather was glorious. At lunch the band played. Suddenly it was reported that the torpedo-boat Buistry (Rapid) had rammed the Oslyabya—had knocked a hole in herself and damaged her torpedo-tubes. The Buistry approached the Suvaroff. With the help of a megaphone (i.e. a large speaking-trumpet) the admiral conversed with her. They managed to plug the holes. It will be my work to mend them. We shall anchor off Bornholm, where I hope to repair the torpedo-boat. To-night there will be danger. We shall all sleep in our clothes and all guns will be loaded. We shall pass through a narrow strait. We are afraid of striking on Japanese mines in these waters. Perhaps there will be no mines; but considering that long ago Japanese officers went to Sweden and, it is said, swore to destroy our fleet, we must be on our guard. This strait is eminently suitable for torpedo-boat attacks or for laying down mines. When you get this letter we shall have passed the dangerous place, and it is no use your worrying yourself about it.

Have things gone badly with Kuropatkin again? How serious it is! Will there ever be an end to our reverses?

4 p.m.—We have passed the island of Bornholm without stopping. The southern shores of Sweden were visible. On the way we met a good many steamers. We are steaming with the greatest precaution. The fleet is split into several divisions, steaming at a certain distance from one another. Each division is surrounded by torpedo-boats. Whenever a steamer or sailing-ship is observed on our course or coming toward us, a torpedo-boat goes ahead and clears the way—that is, drives them aside.

It is a pretty sight—a torpedo-boat going full speed gliding swiftly over the sea like a snake. Being low in the water, it can scarcely be seen from afar.

October 4th.—At anchor off the coast of Denmark, opposite the island of Langeland (Longland). On board the transport Kamchatka.

Ah me, what a day it has been! We had scarcely arrived at Langeland when I went on board the torpedo-boat Buistry, not having even drunk my coffee. I put on high boots and took my mackintosh. The Buistry approached the Kamchatka and the work began. I got as black as the devil in the bunker. I must have new overalls. I shall buy some cloth somewhere and give it to a sailor to make.

High boots are invaluable, but it is a pity they do not come above the knee, as I sometimes have to crawl and spoil my trousers, just as I did to-day. The work in the Buistry is tremendous. The wind freshened. The torpedo-boat rolled. We should have worked outboard, but there was too much sea on; she rolled her deck under. The artificers will work all night at the inside, and perhaps to-morrow they may be able to do outside repairs. Towards the evening it blew so hard that it was useless thinking of getting on board the Suvaroff. It is very cramped in the torpedo-boat, and she is still rolling very heavily. I went over to the Kamchatka. I do not yet know if I shall get a cabin to sleep in. I brought very few cigarettes with me. Here, off Langeland, are a Danish cruiser and a torpedo-boat guarding our anchorage from the Japanese, who might fire a torpedo at us. There are Danish pilots in each ship, as well as in the torpedo-boats. Once we are out of the Baltic, the danger from mines will be passed.

I am sitting in the wardroom of the Kamchatka, where I have found some paper on which I am scribbling. If the weather does not abate I shall have to stay in the Kamchatka until we reach the next anchorage.