Instead of two dead bodies, five or six were now lying in the conning tower. The man at the wheel having been incapacitated, Vladimirsky had taken his place. His face was covered with blood, but his moustache was smartly twisted upwards, and he wore the same self-confident look as he had in the ward-room when discussing “the future of gunnery.” Leaving the tower, I intended going to Reydkin to tell him the Admiral’s reply and to assist in extinguishing the fire, but instead I remained on the bridge looking at the Japanese fleet. CHAPTER IV After steering on their new course for a quarter of an hour, the enemy had again forged a considerable distance ahead, and now the _Mikasa_, at the head of the column, gradually inclined to starboard to cross our T. I waited for us to incline to starboard also, but the Admiral held on to the old course for some time longer. I guessed that by doing this he hoped to lessen the distance as much as possible, which would naturally have assisted us, since, with our wrecked range-finders and gun-directing positions, our guns were only serviceable at close quarters. However, to allow the enemy to cross our T and to subject ourselves to a raking fire was not to be thought of. Counting the moments anxiously I watched and waited. The _Mikasa_ came closer and closer to our course. Our 6-inch starboard turret was already preparing to fire, when--we sharply inclined to starboard. Breathing freely again, I looked around. Demchinsky had not yet gone below with his men but was hard at work, apparently moving the cartridge boxes of the 47-millimetre guns off the deck into the turret, so that there should be less risk of their exploding in the fire and causing greater damage. I went to ask him what he was doing, but before I was able to say anything the Captain appeared at the top of the ladder just behind me. His head was covered with blood and, staggering convulsively, he clutched at the hand-rail. At that moment a shell burst quite close to us and, losing his balance from the sudden explosion, he fell, head foremost, down the ladder. Luckily we saw it and were able to catch him. “It’s nothing--only a trifle,” he said in his ordinary quick way of speaking. He tried to force a smile and, jumping up, endeavoured to go on. But as to go on to the hospital meant another three ladders, we put him, in spite of his protests, on a stretcher. A man reported that the after turret had been blown up[20] and almost simultaneously there resounded above us a rumbling noise accompanied by the sharp clank of falling iron. Something large and heavy fell with a crash; the ship’s boats on the spar-deck were smashed to bits; burning _débris_ fell all round us and we were enveloped in an impenetrable smoke. At the time we did not know what had happened, but afterwards we learned that it was the foremost funnel which had fallen.