Towards evening we took in a conversation between other installations, which at night had increased to seven. The messages were in cypher, but by their brevity and uniformity and by the fact that they commenced and ceased at fixed times, we were able to calculate with tolerable accuracy that these were not reports, but merely messages exchanged between the scouts. It was clear that we had not been discovered. At sunset the fleet closed up, and in expectation of torpedo attacks half the officers and crew were detailed for duty at the guns, the remainder sleeping by their posts, without undressing, ready to jump up on the first sound of the alarm. The night came on dark. The mist seemed to grow denser, and through it but few stars could be seen. On the dark deck there prevailed a strained stillness, broken at times only by the sighs of the sleepers, the steps of an officer, or by an order given in an undertone. Near the guns the motionless figures of their crews seemed like dead, but all were wide awake, gazing keenly into the darkness. Was not that the dark shadow of a torpedo-boat? They listened attentively. Surely the throb of her engines and the noise of steam must betray an invisible foe? Stepping carefully, so as not to disturb the sleepers, I went round the bridges and decks, and then proceeded to the engine-room. For a moment the bright light blinded me. Here, life and movement was visible on all sides. Men were nimbly running up and down the ladders; there was a tinkling of bells and buzzing of voices. Orders were being transmitted loudly, but, on looking more intently, the tension and anxiety--that same peculiar frame of mind so noticeable on deck--could also be observed. And then it suddenly occurred to me that all this--the tall, somewhat bent figure of the Admiral on the side of the bridge, the wrinkled face of the man at the wheel stooping over the compass, the guns’ crews chilled to the bone at their posts, these men talking loudly and running about, the giant connecting-rods whose steel glittered dimly in the dark, and the mighty hissing of steam in the cylinders--was one and the same thing. I suddenly remembered the old sea legend of the ship’s spirit dwelling in every rivet, nail, and screw, which at the fated moment takes possession of the whole ship with her crew, and turns both crew and surroundings into one indivisible supernatural being. Of a sudden it seemed that this spirit was looking right into my heart, which beat with unusual rapidity, and for a moment it seemed as if I had become this being to whom the name _Suvoroff_--so sacred to all of us--was no more than a mere rivet! It was a flash of madness, which quickly passed, leaving behind it only a sensation akin to daring and grim determination.