As I emerged upon the surface I found my boat in the very center of the full glare of a search-light which lit up the whole scene with dazzling radiance.
Fresh from the depths below, where all had been dark, my eyes fairly blinked in the sudden splendor of light.
Then, for what might have been from three to five seconds, I saw everything that passed.
The foremost vessels of the Russian fleet had already gone past the group of drifting trawlers. One large cruiser was passing within a stone’s-throw of the nearest fishing-boat, and the English fishermen were playfully holding up some of their freshly-caught fish, as though offering it to the Russian sailors.
Another line of warships was coming up behind, with its search-lights thrown out in front.
And then, right across the range of lights, and in a straight line between the Russian battleships and the English smacks, I saw the phantom torpedo boat pass deliberately, as high out of the water as she could show.
What happened next took place so swiftly, and with such confusion that I cannot pretend to describe it with accuracy.
Shouts rang out on some of the Russian ships, the submarine headed around as though to seek refuge among the trawlers, and then a gun was fired, and a cannon-ball struck the water within a few feet of me.
All at once, it seemed to me, and as though by some preconcerted plan, half the ships of the Baltic Fleet opened fire on the English fishermen, who seemed too surprised and horrified to do anything. I saw ball after ball crash into one luckless smack, which quickly began to fill and sink. But, generally speaking, the marksmanship of the Russians was too wild for the firing to have serious effect.