The guns are ready at any minute to commence firing. In all corners of the ship are men talking in undertones. They anxiously scan the horizon. The outlines of the nearest ships stand out in black silhouettes. At the sides the torpedo-nets are rocked by the waves. The searchlights are ready to instantly illuminate all around. The tension is felt, though there is absolute stillness. Every one is chilled by fearful anticipation.
December 22nd.—To-day the cruiser Kuban is expected to arrive, and to-morrow the squadron that came viâ Suez.
In the English newspapers there is an announcement that Russia has ordered thirty ships of various kinds in Germany and Italy.
Those undeciphered signals which our wireless stations received have been made out by some one in the Nachimoff. The signal was Japanese. It stated that "the Russian fleet is lying without lights off the island of St. Mary." To-day a French officer commanding some local troops arrived, and spent the night on board the Suvaroff. The torpedo-nets were again got out; the crews were at their guns; steam and mining cutters lay near their ships, one-third of the officers were on deck by order, and a large number out of curiosity.
The night was rather dark—half the sky was covered with clouds. Occasionally sparks of light glimmer here and there. Some one is signalling. A light flashes on shore; it is answered from the sea. The Aurora reports that she saw six lights astern of her. I myself saw four out at sea and one on shore. What will to-night bring us? An attack must be expected. Everything is so unusual. All lights are hidden. At dawn a cruiser is leaving with secret orders, apparently for the colliers.
December 23rd.—The Malay, which remained at our former anchorage, has not yet reached the fleet. The cruisers have gone. The Roland has not yet returned. The Kuban is not here, nor the squadron from Suez. To-night there was a long story from the Esperanza, which is cruising under the French flag and has a French crew. The crew, not liking to lie at anchor without lights during the night, threatened the captain. These brave Frenchmen feared an attack. The Esperanza has now been sent away somewhere. A collier arrived bringing some information, thanks to which we shall leave here to-morrow—whither I do not yet know.
Evening.—The Kuban, it appears, is lying at Diego Suarez, and the ships from Suez at Nosi Be, where we are also going to-morrow.
December 24th.—Port Arthur has surrendered. What more can be said?