Two evenings before he had been out in a gallant endeavour to lay mines on the track of the Japanese ships. To-day he was going to fulfil his last and most difficult task—to break through the line of the enemy torpedo-boat destroyers and attack one of the enemy ships. It was a clear night, and there would be no moon after ten. The time came. Ten struck, then 10.30—the tension became unbearable. Nothing could be seen of S.90. Suddenly—it was eleven—we perceived a narrow, grey shadow which carefully moved on the water under the Pearl Mountains. And soon our sharp sailors’ eyes recognized the shape of the torpedo boat. “Good luck to your brave men!” Our hearts accompanied them with our warmest wishes. The boat disappeared from our sight, and soon the dangerous moment was at hand, when they would have to break through the enemy lines. Our eyes were glued in fascination on the open sea, expecting the flashing of the searchlights and the thunder of the guns at any moment. But all was silence. It was midnight. Another half-hour sped by—we breathed more easily, for the enemy was still in ignorance of the coming attack. By this time our boat must have reached the bulk of the fleet. The minutes turned into hours. No one spoke. Suddenly at 1 a.m., far away towards the south on the open sea, a huge fire-column, and then from all sides the lurid, groping fingers of the searchlights and a distant muttering and vibrating. Hurrah! That was the work of S.90. And already at 1.30 we received the following wireless: “Have attacked enemy cruisers with three torpedoes, registered three hits. Cruiser blew up at once. Am hunted by torpedo-boat destroyers, return Kiao-Chow cut off, trying escape south, and, if necessary, shall explode boat. BRUNNER.” This wire is sufficient praise for Commander, officers and crew. A few weeks later, without premonition, I met the S.90 at Nanking—but that is another story. CHAPTER VII THE LAST DAY THE siege progressed according to plan. The Japanese dug themselves in ever closer; they brought up more and more heavy guns, and on several occasions large bodies of Japanese infantry made night attacks on our infantry positions—to be, however, repulsed each time. After this they subjected the latter and the wire entanglements in front of them to continuous fire, which ceased neither by night nor by day. Our guns, too, were never silent, but unfortunately we had to go slow on account of our remaining ammunition. The extraordinary length of the siege, the never-ceasing artillery fire, and the terrible tension under which we lived, began to tell on us. My own nerves were getting out of hand. I could no longer force myself to eat, and sleep had become impossible. When I shut my eyes at night I immediately saw my map, and below me the Protectorate with its enemy trenches and positions. My head swam, and my ears ached from the whirl of the propeller, and I could hear, over and over again, the words of the Chief of Staff: