CHAPTER VI

Meanwhile, having turned abruptly away from the _Suvoroff_, our fleet had steamed off, gradually inclining to starboard so as not to give the Japanese a chance of crossing its T, which they evidently were trying to do. The consequence was that both belligerents moved on the arcs of two concentric circles. Ours on the smaller--the Japanese on the larger.

_About 4 p.m._ it seemed as if fortune for the last time was endeavouring to smile upon us. In the midst of the thick smoke which was pouring from the damaged funnels, from the guns which were in action, and from the fires on board, and which mingled with the mist still lying on the water, the enemy’s main force seemed to separate from and lose sight of ours. Japanese reports, of which I have availed myself, comment very briefly and somewhat obscurely on this event. Nothing is clear save that Togo, believing our fleet was somehow breaking through to the north, went thither in search of it. Kamimura being of a different opinion proceeded with his cruisers in a south and south-westerly direction. At least, the above will alone explain the glowing panegyrics which I find in the reports entitled “The Prowess of Admiral Kamimura.” If it had not been for this “prowess,” possibly the fight would have ended on 27th May, and our fleet would have had time to close up and recover.

Steering on a south and afterwards south-westerly course, Kamimura heard a heavy cannonade proceeding to the west. He accordingly hastened there to find Admiral Kataoka attacking (till now with little success) our cruisers and transports. Kamimura, commencing to take an active part in the fight, then came upon our main body, which, having almost described a circle with a 5-mile diameter, was returning to the spot where the _Alexander_ had made her abrupt turn, and round which the _Suvoroff_ was so helplessly wandering.

_It was about 5 p.m._

I was standing with Kursel in the lower battery smoking and talking of subjects, not in any way connected with the fight, when suddenly we seemed to be in the midst of the fleet, which, devoid of all formation, was moving northwards. Some ships passed to starboard--some to port--the _Borodino_--Captain Serebryanikoff--leading. The _Alexander_, badly battered and with a heavy list--lying so low that the water almost came into the portholes of the lower battery--was still fighting, firing with such of her guns as were serviceable. I did not see her, but was told that the whole of her bows, from the stem to the 12-inch turret, were torn open.

Having closed up to the main body, the cruisers and transports steamed astern and somewhat to port--attacked by detachments of Admiral Kataoko’s squadron. (In addition to Kataoko himself, Admirals Dewa, Uriu, and Togo junior were also there.) Kamimura remained further to starboard, _i.e._ to the east--also heading for the north.

“Portmanteaus” were still raining on us. Word had been received from the engine-room that the men were being suffocated and rapidly falling out, as the ventilators were bringing down smoke instead of air; soon there would be no men left to work the engines! Meanwhile, the electric light grew dim, and it was reported from the dynamo engines that steam was scarce.

“Torpedo-boats ahead!”

We rushed to our only gun (the other had been found to be past repair), but it turned out to be the _Buiny_, which happened to be passing us, and was on her own initiative coming alongside the crippled battleship to enquire if she could be of any assistance.

Kruijanoffsky was ordered by the flag-captain, who was standing on the embrasure, to semaphore to her (with his arms) to “take off the Admiral.”

I was watching the _Buiny’s_ movements from the battery, when suddenly the Admiral’s messenger, Peter Poochkoff, hastened towards me.

“Please come to the turret, sir! a torpedo-boat has come alongside, but the Admiral won’t leave.”

I ought to mention here that Rozhdestvensky had not been to the dressing station, and none of us knew how badly he was wounded because, to all enquiries when he was hit, he angrily replied that it was only a trifle. He still remained sitting on the box in the turret, where he had been placed.

At times he would look up to ask how the battle was progressing, and then would again sit silently, with his eyes on the ground. Considering, however, the state the ship was in, what else could he do? His conduct seemed most natural, and it never occurred to us that these questions were merely momentary flashes of energy--short snatches of consciousness.

On the arrival of the torpedo-boat being reported, he pulled himself together, and gave the order to “Collect the staff,”[26] with perfect clearness, but afterwards, he only frowned, and would listen to nothing.

Assisted by Kursel I crept through the open half-port of the lower battery, out on to the starboard embrasure in front of the centre 6-inch turret. I was in need of help, as my right leg had become very painful, and I could only limp on the heel of my left.

The boatswain and some sailors were at work on the embrasure, sweeping overboard the burning _débris_ which had fallen from the spar-deck above. Lying off our starboard bow, and some three or four cables distant, was the _Kamchatka_. Kamimura’s cruisers were pouring as heavy a fire into her as into us, but she was an easier victim.

The _Buiny_ kept close alongside, dancing up and down. Her Captain, Kolomeytseff, shouting through his speaking trumpet, asked: “Have you a boat in which to take off the Admiral? We haven’t!” To this the flag Captain and Kruijanoffsky made some reply. I looked at the turret. Its armoured door was damaged and refused to open properly, so that it was very doubtful if anything as big as a man could get through. The Admiral was sitting huddled up, with his eyes on the ground; his head was bandaged in a blood-stained towel.

“Sir, the torpedo-boat is alongside! we must go,” I said.

“Call Filipinoffsky,” he replied, without moving.

Rozhdestvensky evidently intended to lead the fleet after hoisting his flag on another ship, and therefore wanted to have with him the flag navigating officer, who was responsible for the dead-reckoning and safety of manœuvres.

“He will be here in a minute; they have gone for him.” The Admiral merely shook his head.

I have not laid stress on the fact that before transferring him to another ship it was necessary to try and arrange some means of getting him there.

Kursel, with the boatswain and two or three sailors, had got hold of some half-burned hammocks and rope from the upper battery, and with these had begun to lash together something in the shape of a raft on which to lower the Admiral into the water and put him on board the torpedo-boat. It was risky, but nothing else was to hand.

The raft was ready. Filipinoffsky appeared, and I hurried to the turret.

“Come out, sir! Filipinoffsky is here.”

Rozhdestvensky gazed at us, shaking his head, and not uttering a syllable.

“I don’t want to. No.”

We were at a loss how to proceed.

“What are you staring at?” suddenly said Kursel. “Carry him; can’t you see he is badly wounded?”

It seemed as if it was only for these words and the impulse they supplied for which we were waiting. There was a hum of voices and much bustling about. Some forcing their way into the turret, took hold of the Admiral by his arms and raised him up, but no sooner had he put his left leg to the ground than he groaned and completely lost consciousness. It was the best thing that could have happened.

“Bring him along! Bring him along! Splendid! Easy now! the devil! Take him along the side! Get to the side, can’t you? Stop--something’s cracking! What? his coat is being torn! Carry him along!” were the anxious shouts one heard on all sides. Having taken off the Admiral’s coat, they dragged him with the greatest difficulty through the narrow opening of the jammed door out on to the after embrasure, and were just proceeding to fasten him to the raft, when Kolomeytseff did, what a man does only once in his life, and then when inspired. My readers who are landsmen will not realise all the danger of what we were to attempt, but sailors will easily understand the risk. Kolomeytseff brought his vessel alongside and to windward of the mutilated battleship, out of whose battered gun ports stuck her crippled guns, and from whose side projected the broken booms of her torpedo-nets.[27] Dancing up and down on the waves the torpedo-boat at one moment rose till her deck was almost on a level with the embrasure, then rapidly sank away below; next moment she was carried away, and then again was seen struggling towards us, being momentarily in danger of staving in her thin side against one of the many projections from this motionless mass.

The Admiral was carried hurriedly from the after to the bow embrasure, along the narrow gangway between the turrets and the battered side of the upper battery. From here, off the backs of the men who were standing by the open half-port, holding on to the side, he was lowered down, almost thrown, on board the torpedo-boat, at a moment when she rose on a wave and swung towards us.[28]

“Hurrah! the Admiral is on board!” shouted Kursel, waving his cap.

“Hurrah!” cheered every one.

How I, with my wounded legs, boarded her, I don’t remember. I can only recollect that, lying on the hot engine-room hatch between the funnels, I gazed at the _Suvoroff_, unable to take my eyes off her. It was one of those moments which are indelibly impressed upon the mind.

Our position alongside the _Suvoroff_ was extremely dangerous, as, besides the risk of being crushed, we might, at any moment, have been sunk by a shell, for the Japanese still poured in a hot fire upon both the flag-ship and the _Kamchatka_. Several of the _Buiny’s_ crew had already been killed and wounded with splinters, and a lucky shot might at any moment send us to the bottom.

“Push off quickly!” shouted Kursel from the embrasure.

“Push off--push off--don’t waste a moment--don’t drown the Admiral!” bawled Bogdanoff, leaning over the side and shaking his fist at our captain.

“Push off--push off!” repeated the crew, looking out of the battery ports and waving their caps.

Choosing a moment when she was clear of the side, Kolomeytseff gave the order “Full speed astern.”

Farewell shouts reached us from the _Suvoroff_. I say from the “_Suvoroff_,” but who would have recognised the, till recently, formidable battleship in this crippled mass, which was now enveloped in smoke and flames?

Her mainmast was cut in half. Her foremast and both funnels had been completely carried away, while her high bridges and galleries had been rent in pieces, and instead of them shapeless piles of distorted iron were heaped upon the deck. She had a heavy list to port, and, in consequence of it, we could see the hull under the water-line on her starboard side reddening the surface of the water, while great tongues of fire were leaping out of numerous rents.

We rapidly steamed away, followed by a brisk fire from those of the enemy’s ships which had noticed our movements.

_It was 5.30 p.m._

As I have previously remarked, up to the last moment in the _Suvoroff_ we none of us were aware of the nature of the Admiral’s wounds, and, therefore, the immediate question on board the _Buiny_ was, which ship was he to board in order to continue in command of the fleet? When, however, the surgeon, Peter Kudinoff, came to render first aid, we at once learned of how the matter lay, for Kudinoff declared that his life was in danger; that he was suffering from fracture of the skull--a portion of it having entered his brain--and that any jolt might have fatal results. Taking into consideration the condition of the weather--a fresh breeze and a fairly heavy swell--he said it would be impossible to transfer him to another ship. Moreover, he was unable to stand, and his general condition, loss of power and memory, wandering, and short flashes of consciousness, rendered him incapable of any action.

From the _Buiny’s_ engine-room hatch, on which I had chanced to take up my position on going aboard, I proceeded to the bridge, but found that I was not able to stand here because of the rolling, and could only lie. However, while lying down, I was so in the way of those on duty that the Commander advised me in as nice a way as possible to go elsewhere--to the hospital.

We were now overtaking the fleet, and the flag Captain decided that before making any signal, we must in spite of above consult the Admiral, and this was entrusted to me. Picking my way astern with great difficulty, I went down the ladder and looked into the Captain’s cabin. The surgeon had finished dressing the Admiral’s wounds, and the latter was lying motionless in a hammock with half-closed eyes. But he was still conscious.

On my asking him if he felt strong enough to continue in command, and what ship he wished to board, he turned towards me with an effort, and for a while seemed trying to remember something.

“No--where am I? You can see--command--Nebogatoff,” he muttered indistinctly, and then, with a sudden burst of energy, added, “Keep on Vladivostok--course N.23°E.,” and again relapsed into a stupor.

Having sent his reply to the flag Captain (I don’t remember by whom, but I think it was by Leontieff) I intended to remain in the ward-room, but there was no room. All the cabins and even the upper deck were full of men, as, before coming to the _Suvoroff_, the _Buiny_ had picked up over 200 men at the spot where the _Oslyabya_ sank. Amongst them were wounded sailors who had been swimming about in the salt water, and others who, when taken up, had been half drowned. The latter, contracted with cramp, and racked with tormenting coughs and pains in their chests, seemed with their bluish faces to be in a worse plight than the most badly wounded.

Passing on to the upper deck I seated myself on a box by the ladder to the officers’ quarters.

Signals were fluttering from our mast and orders were being given by semaphore to the torpedo-boats, _Bezuprechny_ and _Biedovy_, which were now close up to us.[29] We had already caught up the fleet and were steaming, together with the transports, which were covered, ahead and to starboard, by our cruisers. Still further to starboard, and some 30 cables off, was our main force. The _Borodino_ was leading, and after her came the _Orel_; but the _Alexander_ was nowhere to be seen.[30] In the distance, still further off, could dimly be made out in the dusk, which was now rapidly creeping on, the silhouettes of the Japanese ships--steaming parallel to us. The flashes of their guns twinkled incessantly along the line, but the stubborn fight was not yet at an end!

Alongside of me I recognised an officer of the _Oslyabya_, and asked him what had actually caused his ship to sink?

Waving his arm in a helpless sort of way, and in a voice full of disgust, he jerked out: “How? it’s not very pleasant to remember. Absolutely no luck, that’s what sunk her. Nothing but bad luck! They shot straight enough--but it wasn’t shooting. It wasn’t skill either. It was luck--infernal luck! Three shells, one after the other, almost in the same identical spot--Imagine it! All of them in the same place! All on the water-line under the forward turret! Not a hole--but a regular gateway! Three of them penetrated her together. She almost heeled over at once--then settled under the water. A tremendous rush of water and the partitions were naturally useless. The devil himself couldn’t have done anything!” he hysterically exclaimed, and, covering his face with his hands, went on deck.

_About 7 p.m._ the enemy’s torpedo-boats appeared across the course on which our main force was steering, but rapidly drew off as our cruisers opened fire on them.

“Perhaps they’ve laid mines!” I thought to myself, and turned on my box, trying to make myself more easy.

“The _Borodino_! Look! the _Borodino_!” was shouted on all sides.

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!

COMPOSITION OF THE OPPOSING FLEETS.

RUSSIAN. JAPANESE.

1st Armoured Squadron. 1st Squadron. _Knyaz Suvoroff._ (_Flag._) _Mikasa._ (_Flag._) _Imperator Alexander._ _Shikishima._ _Borodino._ _Fuji._ _Orel._ _Asahi._ _Kasuga._ _Nisshin._

2nd Armoured Squadron. 2nd Squadron. _Oslyabya._ _Idzumo._ _Sissoy Veliki._ _Yakumo._ _Navarin._ _Asama._ _Admiral Nakhimoff._ _Adzuma._ _Tokiwa._ _Iwate._

3rd Armoured Squadron. _Imperator Nicolay._ _Admiral Senyavin._ _Admiral Apraxin._ _Admiral Ushakoff._

CRUISERS

Cruiser Squadron. 3rd Squadron. _Oleg._ _Aurora._ 1st Division. _Dmitri Donskoy._ _Itsukushima._ _Vladimir Monomakh._ _Matsushima._ _Hasidate._ _Chin Yen._

2nd Division. _Suma._ _Chiyoda._ _Idzumi._ _Akitsushu._

3rd Division. _Kasagi_ _Chitose._ _Otawa._ _Niitaka._

4th Division. _Naniwa._ _Takachiho._ Scout Division. _Tsushima._ _Svietlana._ _Akashi._

AUXILIARY CRUISERS.

_Almaz._ 16 Cruisers. _Ural._

CRUISERS DETAILED FOR CO-OPERATION WITH TORPEDO-BOATS.

_Zemtchug._ _Toyohashi._ _Izumrud._ _Maya._ _Takao._ _Chihaya._ _Tatsuta._ _Uji._ _Yaeyama._ _Chokai._ _Yamato._ _Tsukushi._

DESTROYERS AND TORPEDO-BOATS.

9 Destroyers. 25 Destroyers. 12 Torpedo-Boats, 1st Class. 55 Torpedo-Boats, 2nd Class. 18 Torpedo-Boats, 3rd Class.

PRINTED AT THE EDINBURGH PRESS 9 AND 11 YOUNG STREET.

FOOTNOTES

[1] These cruisers had no armour protection for their guns.

[2] All, except the naval transports carrying war stores, were left at Shanghai.--A.B.L.

[3] Evidently the _Oslyabya_ was omitted by a printer’s error. She should come in as the fifth ship, _i.e._ after the _Orel_, and leading the 2nd armoured squadron.--A.B.L.

[4] Cruel irony! We were attempting to force our way through to our _base_, and had been ordered to take with us, if possible, everything in the way of materials and supplies that we might require, so as not to overtax it. The railway was only able with difficulty to supply the army, and we were under no circumstances to count upon its help.

[5] “Together” has a literal meaning: the ships all change direction simultaneously to the same side and at the same angle. By doing this they take up a new formation, parallel to their former line, and to starboard or to port of it, moving ahead or not according to the size of the angle of turning. Shortly after changing direction the order is again given to turn “together” at the same angle, but to the opposite side, and the ships thus find themselves once more in single column line ahead, but at some distance to starboard or to port of their original course.

“Together” is the direct opposite to “in succession,” when each ship changes direction as she comes to the spot in which the leading ship has turned--_i.e._ follows her.

[6] “Samotopy” literally “self-sinkers.”--A.B.L.

[7] Admiral Nebogatoff, with the 3rd squadron, joined the main fleet on 9th May.--A.B.L.

[8] A play upon the words. The Russian translation of “presentiment” is “feeling before.”--A.B.L.

[9] Fate had not been kind to us. The _Terek_ and _Kuban_ met no one all the time that they were there, and no one knew of their presence in those waters.

[10] Verbatim in the context.--A.B.L.

[11] According to Japanese reports, Togo, who was stationed with his main body somewhere off Fusan, was at this time in complete ignorance of our whereabouts and was waiting for news from both north and south.

[12] A point = 11¼°.

[13] At Port Arthur the long Japanese shells of big calibre guns were nicknamed (“chemodani”) “portmanteaus.” Indeed, what else could you call a shell, a foot in diameter and more than 4 feet long, filled with explosive?

[14] A flag-sub-lieutenant.

[15] Japanese officers said that after Port Arthur had capitulated, while waiting for the Baltic fleet, they worked up to their high state of preparation as follows:--At target practice every gun captain fired five live shells out of his gun. New guns were afterwards substituted for those worn out.

[16] According to thoroughly trustworthy reports, the Japanese in the battle of Tsu-shima were the first to employ a new kind of explosive in their shells, the secret of which they bought during the war from its inventor, a colonel in one of the South American Republics. It was said that these shells could only be used in guns of large calibre in the armoured squadrons, and that is how those of our ships engaged with Admiral Kataoka’s squadron did not suffer the same amount of damage, or have so many fires, as the ships engaged with the battleships and armoured cruisers. Very convincing proofs of this were the cases of the _Svietlana_ and _Donskoy_. On 28th May the former was subjected to the fire of two light cruisers, and the latter to the fire of five. In the first place, both were able to hold out for a considerable time, and in the second (and this is most important), they did not catch fire, although on both ships--the _Donskoy_, which was one of the older type, and the _Svietlana_, which was like a yacht--there was considerably more combustible material than on the newer type of battleship.

For a great many years in naval gunnery two distinct ideas have prevailed--one is to inflict on the enemy, although not necessarily much (in quantity), severe and heavy damage--_i.e._ to stop movement--to penetrate under the water-line--to get a burst in the hull below the water-line--briefly, to put the ship at once out of action. The other is to pour upon him the greatest volume of fire in the shortest time--though it be above water and the actual damage caused by each individual shot be immaterial--in the hope of paralysing the ship, trusting that if this were done it would not be difficult to destroy her completely--that she would, in fact, sink by herself.

With modern guns, in order to secure the first of the above ideas, solid armour-penetrating projectiles must be employed--_i.e._ thick-coated shells (whose internal capacity and bursting charge is consequently diminished), and percussion fuzes with retarded action, bursting the shell inside the target. To secure the second idea shells need only be sufficiently solid to ensure their not bursting at the moment of being fired. The thickness of their walls may be reduced to the minimum, and their internal capacity and bursting charge increased to the utmost limits. The percussion fuses should be sensitive enough to detonate at the slightest touch.

The first of the above views prevails chiefly in France, the second in England. In the late war we held the first, and the Japanese the second.

[17] A colonel of the marine artillery--flag gunnery officer.

[18] By the Admiral’s order the iron oil drums, instead of being thrown away, had been converted into buckets, and these home-made contrivances were placed about the decks.

[19] In the Battle of Tsu-shima the Japanese losses were:

Killed 113 Dangerously wounded 139 Severely wounded 243 Slightly wounded 42

These figures are sufficiently eloquent, even allowing for the reports of Japanese officers to be somewhat partial. Almost half of the casualties (252 out of 537) were killed and dangerously wounded, the other half were severely and slightly wounded--less than 8 per cent. The total number was insignificant. Our shells evidently either never burst, or burst badly, _i.e._ in a few large pieces. The Japanese bursting charge was seven times stronger than ours, and consisted not of pyroxylene, but of shimose (and perhaps of something still more powerful). Shimose, on exploding, raises the temperature one and a half times higher than pyroxylene. In fact, one might say that a Japanese shell bursting well did as much damage as twelve of ours bursting equally well. And this ours rarely succeeded in doing!

[20] The ships nearest to us reported afterwards that the armoured shield on our after turret had been blown right up above the bridges, and then was seen to fall crumpled up on to the poop. What had actually happened was not known.

[21] In order to establish a connection between the facts which I personally saw and noted down, and in order to be able to explain the Japanese movements, I shall have recourse to sources which can hardly be suspected of partiality towards us. I refer to two Japanese official publications which are both entitled “Nippon-Kai Tai-Kai-Sen” (“The Great Battle in the Sea of Japan”). The books are illustrated by a number of photographs and plans taken at different moments of the fight, and contain the reports of various ships and detachments. A few quite immaterial differences in description of detail by various witnesses have not been removed, as they only give the stamp of truth to the publication.

I must request my readers to excuse the heavy, and at times incoherent language introduced by me in these quotations. The reason for this is my wish to keep as near as possible to the original, and, in the construction of its sentences, Japanese is totally different to any European language.

[22] In a ship there is no proper church compartment. The church is only rigged when a service is to be held.

[23] There were probably more here than in the whole of the Japanese fleet.

[24] Whether this turn was intentional or accidental, owing to the damage done to her steering communicators, will for ever remain a secret.

[25] Courland is one of the Baltic Provinces where German is spoken.--A.B.L.

[26] Of all the wounded members of the staff, who were below, under the armoured deck, it was only possible to “collect” two--Filipinoffsky and Leontieff. The former was in the lower fighting position, which was hermetically separated from the mess deck, and received a current of fresh air through the armoured tube of the conning tower. (All the same he had to sit by candle light, as the lamps had gone out.) The latter was at the exit hatch. The mess deck was in darkness (the electric light had gone out) and was full of suffocating smoke. Hurrying along to find the staff, we called them by name; but received no answers. The silence of the dead reigned in that smoky darkness, and it is probable that all who were in the closed compartments under the armoured deck, where the ventilators took smoke instead of air, gradually becoming suffocated, lost consciousness and died. The engines had ceased to work. The electric light had given out for want of steam; and no one came up from below. Of the 900 men composing the complement of the _Suvoroff_, it would not be far wrong to say that, at this time there remained alive only those few who were gathered together in the lower battery and on the windward embrasure.

[27] It was impossible to come up on the leeward side, because of the smoke and flames.

[28] He was transferred to the _Biedovy_ on the morning of 28th May.--A.B.L.

[29] The _Bezuprechny_ was ordered to go to the _Nicolay_ and to give (by semaphore) the late commander’s instructions to the new, _i.e._ Nebogatoff. The _Biedovy_ was sent to the _Suvoroff_ to take off the remainder of her complement, but the flag-ship could not be found.

[30] She had gone down about 5.30 P.M.

Transcriber’s Notes

Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected.

Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.

The Diagram of Movements referenced in the Contents is not available.