Then, looking through the eye-pieces of the range-finder, he saw a line of Russian war-ships extended outside the harbour. The scale indicated that they were at least six miles distant. There were five battle-ships, six cruisers, a gun-boat, and seventeen smaller craft—destroyers and torpedo-boats. The mosquito flotilla was grouped close to the entrance of the navigable channel. Just beyond them Bob descried the funnels of three large vessels apparently aground. These were the victims of the night’s operations—the vessels whose unhappy plight was soon to result in the removal of Admiral Stark from the command of the fleet his laxity had jeopardized. It was a fine sunny day, there was a gentle swell on the surface of the sea, and the _Mikasa_, steaming eighteen knots, drew rapidly nearer to the great fortress. Bob, looking steadily through his glass, singled out the flagship, the _Peresviet_, on which he expected the _Mikasa’s_ attack would be directed. The gunnery officer’s eyes were now riveted to the range-finder. At length, whispering "Three miles and a half" in Bob’s ear, he touched an electric apparatus at his side. The clang of bells was soon afterwards heard, signal-flags were run up at the vessel’s fore, and Bob distinguished a curious clinking sound from an invisible point below him. "Twelve-inch breech swung open," said the gunnery officer quietly. "Keep your eye on the _Peresviet_." Almost immediately afterwards there came to Bob’s ears a strange hoarse cough; the vessel seemed to wince. A few seconds of suspense, then Bob saw a small puff of smoke beneath the bows of the _Peresviet_: a column of water rose high into the air, and as the wind separated its particles into spray, it appeared as if a shower of many-coloured glass were falling over the deck of the Russian vessel. "Beautiful shot!" said the gunnery officer. "We must alter the range." Before a second shot could be fired from the _Mikasa_, however, one of her consorts had followed her example, and Bob saw a patch of dirty smoke on one of the bluffs near the Lao-mu-chu battery. "Hasn’t got the range yet," said the gunnery officer. "Now for ours." Again the coughing sound, again the staggering recoil, and the Shimose shell burst on the armour plating of the _Peresviet_, which was at once obscured by a cloud of dense black smoke. The bombardment had begun.