At 7 o'clock on the evening of April 12 our destroyer division of eight ships went out, in beautiful weather, to do a long reconnaissance. By 10 the weather had rapidly changed for the worse, and the sky was overcast. A thick sea mist covered the water and it was hailing. In such a night there was nothing to prevent the Japs getting within half a cable of the place without being discovered. Notwithstanding the little practice our men had had at sea in peace-time, they were not at all put out by the weather. Those who assert that Russians do not make good sailors, lie: all they want is good leaders. By midnight our destroyers drew near a group of islands, and here the fog and murk of the pouring rain were so thick that it was impossible for the vessels to distinguish one another. Around were solid darkness and deathly silence, broken only by the beat of the engines. Owing to the fog, the proximity of the islands, and the rocky nature of the coast, the division kept at low speed, being only able to get its bearings by the cries of the gulls roosting on the shore hard by. About midnight among the islands the Strashny lost touch with the rest. At 2 o'clock she made out some lights, and thinking them to belong to her division, steamed slowly towards them, only to be met as dawn broke by a sudden broad[Pg 33]side. Instead of being with our ships, she was in the middle of six Japanese destroyers and two two-funnelled cruisers. Returning the fire, the commander ordered 'full steam ahead' and made for Port Arthur; but it was too late. The enemy had everything in their favour—numbers, strength, and speed. The Strashny was overhauled and riddled. But though Captain Urasovsky, who was commanding, and all the crews of the bow guns were killed almost at once, and she was soon full of dead and dying men, the engines still worked. She had not been deprived of her life, her mobility—and she moved. Life was dear to every man aboard her, and they fought like devils. Lieutenant Malaeff, upon whom the command had now devolved, was everywhere—now forward, now aft—giving orders and encouragement. In him the desire to live beat strong, and a faint hope of assistance or of escape made him disregard the slaughter all around him, the enemy's increasing fire—all else but the main chance. Sub-Lieutenant Akinfieff fell wounded in the side; the crew were falling fast. The swish, crack, and whistle of shells was mingled with the groans, prayers, and shrieks of the wounded.
Choosing a favourable moment, Malaeff fired a torpedo from the stern tube at the nearest cruiser, and hit. She heeled over and stopped, and the other cruiser and two of the destroyers went to her aid. Things now looked better, as only four destroyers were left against the Strashny. Encouraged by what Malaeff had done, torpedo-man Cherepanoff dashed to the other torpedo-tube; but he had not got hold of the firing-lever when a shell struck the torpedo and exploded it, with awful results. Engineer-mechanic Dmitrieff was blown in half, and every man near was killed. The engines stopped. The Japs also stopped, and continued firing at a range of 80 yards. Akinfieff, who up till now had been still able to give[Pg 34] orders, was struck by another shell. The last 47-millimetre gun was disabled; the vessel was penetrated below water-line, and must sink. Convinced............