I now approach the crucial portion of my narrative.
The incidents already dealt with, though not without a certain interest, perhaps, for those who value exact information about political events, are comparatively unimportant, and have been given here chiefly in order to inspire confidence in what follows.
At all events, their truth is not likely to be disputed, and I have not thought it necessary, therefore, to insist on every corroborative detail.
But I am now about to enter on what must be considered debatable ground.
I had taken the little house on the Alexander Quay, as the reader will have guessed, as a post of observation from which to watch the proceedings of the Russian Ministry of Marine, more particularly with regard to the fleet under the command of Admiral Rojestvensky.
It is my subsequent observations and discoveries which compel me, greatly to my regret, to give a direct contradiction to the gallant Admiral’s version of what took place in the North Sea on the night of Trafalgar Day, 1904.
It is for that reason that I desire to exercise particular care in this part of my statement.
Such care is the more incumbent on me, inasmuch as I was requested by the British Government to furnish a confidential copy of my evidence in advance, for the use of the members of the international court which sat in Paris to inquire into this most mysterious affair.
The following chapters should be read, therefore, as the sworn depositions of a witness, and not as the carelessly worded account of a journalist or popular historian.