I raised myself, as quickly as possible on my arm, but where the Borodino had been nothing was visible save a patch of white foam!
It was 7.10 p.m.
The enemy’s fleet having turned sharply to starboard, bore off to the east, and in its place was a group of torpedo-boats, which now surrounded us in a semicircle from the north, east, and west. Preparing to receive their attacks from astern, our cruisers, and we after them, gradually inclined to port,—and then bore almost direct to the west—straight towards the red sky. (There was no compass near me.)
At 7.40 p.m. I still was able to see our battleships, steaming astern of us devoid of formation, and defending themselves from the approaching torpedo-boats by firing. This was my last note.
Feeling weak from loss of blood and from the inflammation of my wounds, which were dirty and had not been bandaged, I began to shiver. My head swam, and I went below to get help.
And what of the Suvoroff? This is how a Japanese report describes her last moments:
“In the dusk, when our cruisers were driving the enemy northwards, they came upon the Suvoroff alone, at some distance from the fight, heeling over badly and enveloped in flames and smoke. The division (Captain-Lieutenant Fudzimoto) of torpedo-boats, which was with our cruisers, was at once sent to attack her. Although much burned and still on fire—although she had been subjected to so many attacks, having been fired at by all the fleet (in the full sense of the word)—although she had only one serviceable gun—she still opened fire, showing her determination to defend herself to the last moment of her existence—so long, in fact, as she remained above water. At length, about 7 P.M., after our torpedo-boats had twice attacked her, she went to the bottom.”
TO THE EVERLASTING MEMORY OF
THE HEROES WHO PERISHED!