Having closed up to the main body, the cruisers and transports steamed astern and somewhat to port--attacked by detachments of Admiral Kataoko’s squadron. (In addition to Kataoko himself, Admirals Dewa, Uriu, and Togo junior were also there.) Kamimura remained further to starboard, _i.e._ to the east--also heading for the north. “Portmanteaus” were still raining on us. Word had been received from the engine-room that the men were being suffocated and rapidly falling out, as the ventilators were bringing down smoke instead of air; soon there would be no men left to work the engines! Meanwhile, the electric light grew dim, and it was reported from the dynamo engines that steam was scarce. “Torpedo-boats ahead!” We rushed to our only gun (the other had been found to be past repair), but it turned out to be the _Buiny_, which happened to be passing us, and was on her own initiative coming alongside the crippled battleship to enquire if she could be of any assistance. Kruijanoffsky was ordered by the flag-captain, who was standing on the embrasure, to semaphore to her (with his arms) to “take off the Admiral.” I was watching the _Buiny’s_ movements from the battery, when suddenly the Admiral’s messenger, Peter Poochkoff, hastened towards me. “Please come to the turret, sir! a torpedo-boat has come alongside, but the Admiral won’t leave.” I ought to mention here that Rozhdestvensky had not been to the dressing station, and none of us knew how badly he was wounded because, to all enquiries when he was hit, he angrily replied that it was only a trifle. He still remained sitting on the box in the turret, where he had been placed. At times he would look up to ask how the battle was progressing, and then would again sit silently, with his eyes on the ground. Considering, however, the state the ship was in, what else could he do? His conduct seemed most natural, and it never occurred to us that these questions were merely momentary flashes of energy--short snatches of consciousness. On the arrival of the torpedo-boat being reported, he pulled himself together, and gave the order to “Collect the staff,”[26] with perfect clearness, but afterwards, he only frowned, and would listen to nothing. Assisted by Kursel I crept through the open half-port of the lower battery, out on to the starboard embrasure in front of the centre 6-inch turret. I was in need of help, as my right leg had become very painful, and I could only limp on the heel of my left. The boatswain and some sailors were at work on the embrasure, sweeping overboard the burning _débris_ which had fallen from the spar-deck above. Lying off our starboard bow, and some three or four cables distant, was the _Kamchatka_. Kamimura’s cruisers were pouring as heavy a fire into her as into us, but she was an easier victim.