Eighteen seconds elapse. The second falls, followed by the third, fourth, and all the others, on every ship which maintains a diagonal course nearing the coast. In three minutes the operation is over; the mines are planted in the exact spot. The teeth of the crew gleam in a wild smile. Each sailor sees in his heart the enemy's battleships rent and sinking.
"Four—Three—Three—Zero."
We assume our position at the head of the line, returning on our course with the initial speed. The ships seem now to me to be quivering with warlike joy. In the distance over the mainland the white beams of the searchlights still cross each other. Ever and anon a rocket explodes. Our wake now is so beautiful as to resemble a whirling milky way. A sailor mounts the bridge and gives us a cup of steaming coffee, whose aroma titillates our nostrils and our heart. We light our cigarette.
But here is a Marconigram.
"Look out, two submarines are lying in wait for you on the safe route."
And in the first quiver of dawn, with expanded lungs, we again breathe danger and death.
[THE BLOOD OF THE RUSSIANS IN FIGHT FOR LIBERTY]
"The Deserted Battlefields I Have Seen"
Told by Count Ilya Tolstoy, Son of the late Count Leo Tolstoy, Famous Russian Novelist