The sky became more and more overcast, and a strong south-east wind blowing in fitful gusts brought up clouds of dust. It was midnight, and it grew darker. Having said good-bye to the Frontier Guards in the trenches, I went on towards the guns on Lime Hill. The Commanding Officer was lying down in his tent, fully dressed. We went on to the battery, and found everything quiet and the sentries by the guns. The air seemed oppressive and charged with electricity, and in the distance we heard the growl of thunder. There was a blinding flash of lightning, then another, and the rattle of thunder shook the earth: we ran to the tent. The rain poured down as if out of a bucket. By 3 a.m. it had stopped and all was silent; the darkness of night was giving place to the rosy light of the approaching day, and a blanket of haze lay over the valley towards Mount Samson. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 12: Also known as the battle of _Nan-shan_.] CHAPTER XIII THE BATTLE CONTINUES Serene and calm dawned May 26, but by five o'clock we were aroused by the relentless sputter of machine-guns and the sound of bursting shrapnel--our réveillé--and all peace was gone. During the night the enemy had deployed their batteries along the heights between Kinchou Bay and Khinoeze Bay,[13] and were now concentrating their fire on us, taking our works in front and flank, while from Kinchou Bay some of their gunboats were pounding our left with 10-inch guns. This bombardment, now commenced, did not cease the whole day. The panorama from Lime Battery before the sun was well up was remarkable. In the dim light the flashes of the enemy's artillery showed up against the dark mass of gigantic Mount Samson like long threads of fire, like golden chains swaying up and down, rocking to and fro. As the sun crept higher the gold gradually faded into silvery white, and the chains seemed to turn into little bunches of fleecy clouds. Higher and higher rose the sun; not a single cloud flecked the delicate turquoise of the heavens. From the ground rose clouds of dirty grey smoke, each followed by a dull roar: the enemy were firing _rafales_, half of the guns being loaded with shrapnel, fuzed to burst in the air, and half with common shell with percussion fuzes, which, bursting on impact, raised a pillar of dust and suffocating smoke. At present the fighting was limited to an artillery duel, but our position presented an awful sight, for now, under the concentrated fire of more than 150 guns, it was smoking like a crater. Every minute the intensity of this fire increased, the guns being systematically directed on to each of our batteries in turn; it was hellish. Lieutenant Solomonoff, who was coolly directing the fire of his battery, came up to me, and glancing towards our centre batteries, remarked: