"The bursting shells," said the writer, "bowled over man after man until the decks were slippery with blood. Amidst this hell the captain stood unmoved in the conning tower calmly telephoning his orders to the captains of the guns. His wonderful coolness had a remarkable influence on all the officers. The cockpit was soon crowded with wounded, thirty-nine men being brought down before the fight ended. "Amid the crash of the guns, the hiss of the flying projectiles, and the thunder of their explosions, the smashing of splinters, and the din of the working engines, the surgeons labored quietly among the wounded on the hospital operating table. Although some of the men suffered frightful agony, few groans were heard, in spite of the fact that anæsthetics were only administered in one case." [Illustration: SKETCH PLAN OF PORT ARTHUR'S MAIN FORTIFICATIONS.] [Sidenote: Terrific Missiles] For hours that to the heart-shaken inhabitants must have appeared interminable, the great shells, each of the enormous weight of 850 lbs., continued to hurtle through the air and to burst over the harassed stronghold. The sensations of a garrison in such circumstances are well described in a letter which a wounded Russian officer wrote from the hospital in Port Arthur to a friend in Russia. He is recounting his experiences of the first bombardment, but the account is so vivid and would apply so well to the more trying ordeal of the 10th of March that it will bear reproduction here. [Sidenote: A Vivid Picture] "The sea," he says, "is quite white from the falling shells, and it is impossible to hear the words of command. I cry out until my voice becomes hoarse, but cannot make myself heard above the din. There are more than 150 cannon belching forth smoke, shell and death. There is a wild, choking sound from the machine guns. Amid the smoke, steam and dust I hear a groan, it is that of a soldier whose nose has been torn away by the fragment of a shell. He is surrounded by stretcher bearers. Someone lays his hand on my shoulder, and I turn and see at my side a soldier, pale, and his lips trembling. He wishes to speak, but his tongue refuses to obey. He points with his finger, and I understand what has occurred. [Illustration: FUNERAL PROCESSION OF A JAPANESE OFFICER IN YOKOHAMA.] [Sidenote: Blood--Blood Everywhere]