Farewell shouts reached us from the _Suvoroff_. I say from the “_Suvoroff_,” but who would have recognised the, till recently, formidable battleship in this crippled mass, which was now enveloped in smoke and flames? Her mainmast was cut in half. Her foremast and both funnels had been completely carried away, while her high bridges and galleries had been rent in pieces, and instead of them shapeless piles of distorted iron were heaped upon the deck. She had a heavy list to port, and, in consequence of it, we could see the hull under the water-line on her starboard side reddening the surface of the water, while great tongues of fire were leaping out of numerous rents. We rapidly steamed away, followed by a brisk fire from those of the enemy’s ships which had noticed our movements. _It was 5.30 p.m._ As I have previously remarked, up to the last moment in the _Suvoroff_ we none of us were aware of the nature of the Admiral’s wounds, and, therefore, the immediate question on board the _Buiny_ was, which ship was he to board in order to continue in command of the fleet? When, however, the surgeon, Peter Kudinoff, came to render first aid, we at once learned of how the matter lay, for Kudinoff declared that his life was in danger; that he was suffering from fracture of the skull--a portion of it having entered his brain--and that any jolt might have fatal results. Taking into consideration the condition of the weather--a fresh breeze and a fairly heavy swell--he said it would be impossible to transfer him to another ship. Moreover, he was unable to stand, and his general condition, loss of power and memory, wandering, and short flashes of consciousness, rendered him incapable of any action. From the _Buiny’s_ engine-room hatch, on which I had chanced to take up my position on going aboard, I proceeded to the bridge, but found that I was not able to stand here because of the rolling, and could only lie. However, while lying down, I was so in the way of those on duty that the Commander advised me in as nice a way as possible to go elsewhere--to the hospital. We were now overtaking the fleet, and the flag Captain decided that before making any signal, we must in spite of above consult the Admiral, and this was entrusted to me. Picking my way astern with great difficulty, I went down the ladder and looked into the Captain’s cabin. The surgeon had finished dressing the Admiral’s wounds, and the latter was lying motionless in a hammock with half-closed eyes. But he was still conscious. On my asking him if he felt strong enough to continue in command, and what ship he wished to board, he turned towards me with an effort, and for a while seemed trying to remember something. “No--where am I? You can see--command--Nebogatoff,” he muttered indistinctly, and then, with a sudden burst of energy, added, “Keep on Vladivostok--course N.23°E.,” and again relapsed into a stupor.