'Number 1!' A streak of flame, a stunning roar, and away sped the steel messenger with its ever-lessening scream up into the air. Down below in the casemate the telephone rang. 'Short, sir. Please shell the slopes _towards_ the enemy,' was the message. 'Number 2!' Again the roar and shock. One could scarcely distinguish the shots being fired from the neighbouring sea batteries. Uncle Moshinsky had opened fire, and, further off, Cape Flat and Cross Hill also; in fact, the whole front was rumbling with noise. 'Sir, that shell fell on the saddle of Ta-ku-shan. You are requested to shell the slopes _towards the enemy_,' again came on the telephone. Captain Zeitz ran down below into the casemate. After consulting the outspread map, he dashed up again and altered the sighting. 'Number 3!' Every five minutes a shot boomed out. Going to the edge of the glacis, I looked over the steep precipice dropping down to the water. On the sea everything was quiet; the horizon was clear, and nothing was to be seen on the watery expanse lit up by the searchlights. Turning round, I saw the smooth edge of the hill; at an equal distance one from another, the four evil-looking mouths of the howitzers. Two minutes had passed since the last shot; everything in the battery was quiet and dark, and I was alone on the glacis. Down below stretched the town, buried in darkness, with no sign of light or life in street or house; it might have been a city of the dead. Suddenly the battery was lighted up as if it were day: a pillar of flame flashed from the mouth of one of the howitzers, and the blast swept up the pebbles from the ground and hurled them over the cliff. I went back into the casemate, and found it hot and stuffy. The majority of officers were lying down, as was every one in the battery above, with the exception of Zeitz; but it was impossible to sleep, because of the deafening noise of each shot. I sat down to the table close to a lamp and began to read over my daily 'News' for the _Novy Kry_. The telephone rang, and orders came that we were to cease fire for half an hour. In the distance shots became fewer and fewer, and in the battery noise gave place to silence. For three hours incessantly the whole of the shore front from Golden Hill had bellowed at Ta-ku-shan.