We steamed steadily on through the fleet, every vessel of which was probably by this time aware of our presence. The search-lights flashed and fell all around us, but not once did we have to face again that blinking glare which tells the blockade runner that the game is up.
But there was another peril in store on which we had not reckoned. The sea all around Port Arthur had been strewn with Russian mines!
Unconscious of what was coming, we steamed gaily past the last outlying torpedo-boat of Admiral Togo’s squadron.
“Through!” cried my friend the skipper, pointing with a grin of delight at the Port Arthur lights as they came into view around the edge of a dark cliff.
And even as he looked and pointed, there was a terrific wave, a rush, a flare and a report, and I felt myself lifted off my feet into mid-air.
I fancy I must have been unconscious for a second or two while in the air, for the splash of the sea as I struck it in falling seemed to wake me up like a cold douche.
My first movement, on coming to the surface again, was to put my hand to my neck to make sure of the safety of the precious locket which had been placed there by my dear little countrywoman.
My second was to strike out for a big spar which I saw floating amid a mass of tangled cordage and splinters a few yards in front of me.
Strange as it may seem, only when my arms were resting safely on the spar, and I had time to look about me and take stock of the situation, did I realize the extreme peril I had been in.
Most dangers and disasters are worse to read about than to go through. Had any one warned me beforehand that I was going to be blown up by a mine, I should probably have felt the keenest dread, and conjured up all sorts of horrors. As it was, the whole adventure was over in a twinkling, and by the greatest good luck I had escaped without a scratch.