So the battle raged, and vessel after vessel, bearing the Russian flag, was battered to pieces and sent to the bottom, while Togo's fleet seemed to bear a charmed life. At last the merciful night, that so often has laid its quieting hand of peace upon maddened, struggling combatants by land and sea, brooded over the waters of the Sea of Japan. The few ships from the Baltic that could still move under control crept northward in the vain hope of reaching safety. There was no longer any dream of victory; escape, escape from this horrible, relentless foe, was the only thought. But while the heavier ships had been dealing deadly blows that fair May afternoon, the pack of smaller craft, the torpedo-boats and destroyers, had been for the most part held back under the lee of the islands; held back with difficulty, for their crews and officers were wild to enter the engagement. In the conning-tower of the _Fujiyama_ Commander Oto Owari chafed and fretted over the forced inaction, his dark eyes blazing and hands twitching. Before midnight the signal came down the line to advance. Silently, like wolves gathering about a wounded herd, crouching low to the ground, the pack gathered around the ill-fated, shattered fleet. Then the word was given, and they rushed upon their prey. Searchlights flashed from the beleaguered ships, as they bravely turned at bay. Again and again the wolves were driven back. More than one of the fierce assailants never returned to the charge; but the rest closed the gaps, and cutting out one after another of the Russians, set their teeth of steel into her ribs until with a great cry she succumbed. The _Fujiyama_ was foremost in every rush, and staggered under the blows she received. Oto was everywhere, with his savage little ship, launching his torpedoes at the biggest vessels of the enemy. He was in full attack upon the _Sissoi-Valiki_, one of Rojestvensky's finest battle-ships, when a great shell exploded just in front of the conning-tower of the destroyer. It was a fatal blow. Oto, with a dozen others, all of them wounded, was hurled into the sea, from which he was rescued and taken on board the _Kasuga_, insensible, and therefore blissfully unconscious that his ship had gone to the bottom. The fight drifted northward. Sunday morning dawned, "so cool, so calm, so bright." The battle was resumed, each flying ship of the Russians with three or four of the enemy hanging about her and hammering her with shell and solid shot. As on the preceding day and night the terrors of the Baltic crews were increased by the evident presence of submarines. Several of the western ships, with no hostile craft visible in the open sea, had suddenly felt the impact of an awful blow from below, followed by an explosion that tore her hull to pieces, while the unseen assailant darted off beneath the waves for fresh prey.