Towards the end of 1869 there came an Austrian Mission to conclude a treaty with Japan. As usual we pulled the chestnuts out of the fire for them. The Mission was commended to our good offices and we had to dry-nurse them, put them up to the ropes, and furnish them with an interpreter. The head of the Mission was Admiral Petz, the hero of Lissa, a most interesting personality; the second in command, charged with the negotiation of the commercial details of the affair, was Baron Calice, who afterwards made a sort of name for himself as Austro-Hungarian Ambassador at Constantinople. With the Admiral I made great friends. One day as we were sitting together watching the picturesque junks sailing to and fro in front of a great warship in the Bay of Yedo, he gave me an account of the battle of Lissa in which he had played so great a part three years before. The island of Lissa, practically an Austrian fortress plunged in the Adriatic sea, was attacked on the 18th of July, 1866, by the Italian fleet under Admiral Persano. The Austrian Admiral Tegethoff went out to relieve the besieged stronghold, and on the 20th the great sea-fight took place. Admiral Petz’s story of the battle was most exciting. Although ironclads had been in existence for some years, Lissa must have been the first action in which they played their part. The Italian fleet, with eleven armoured ships and a powerful ram, was by far the stronger; the Austrians had only seven. The wooden ships on the two sides were about even in number. Admiral Petz, then Commodore, was in command of the _Kaiser_, an old-fashioned wooden battleship. There was a moment when he was engaged at close quarters with three Italian ironclads, the four ships blazing away for dear life or death. He was on the bridge, half choked and blinded by the thick, poisonous smoke and flames belched out by his own and the enemy’s guns, his ears deafened by the roar of the cannon. It was like hell-fire let loose upon the waters. All of a sudden a puff of wind cleared the air, and to his dismay he saw the huge bulk of the dreaded _Ré d’Italia_, supposed to be the most powerful armoured vessel afloat, bearing down upon him. Iron attacking oak; an unequal fight. It was a horror: if she rammed him it was certain death for all. A sudden inspiration struck him; he had just time to make a despairing dash at the monster before she could reach him. He gave the necessary order, full steam ahead, charged and drove his bows into her, striking her amidships. To his amazement the blow crashed into her, boring a huge hole in her iron sides as easily as if they had been made of paper, and the great terror sank into the sea with all her crew.