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"By the end of September," the old man continued, "we knew that
Admiral Makarov was dead, the Novik sunk off Sakhalin, the
Tsessarevich interned in Tsingtao, Rurik and rest of the
Vladivostok squadron beaten, the Diana gone to Saigon for
refuge. We knew all these disasters were happening in the Far
East but still we swung at anchor at Libau. Some of the crews
grew unruly. Agitators, revolutionaries, they were going about
their work. I tell you, Ensign," Gorshin pointed his finger,
"even after all that happened later, you cannot sabotage the
morale of men who are about to risk their lives.

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   You cannot do
it, even if you dispute the cause, a man must be able to trust
his comrades. "

"Yes sir," Koscuisko answered, doubtfully.

"But I found my Katka in that horrid Latvian port and, I have
to say, she was all I could think about until the time we
sailed, and after. "


It was Sunday the 25th of September, 1904. Sub-Lieutenant
Yvgeny Ivanovich Gorshin, Third Officer of the Destroyer Grozny,
rose out of bed in his lodgings in Libau, dressed, and descended
the stairs to breakfast. He had slept little, his mind was so
full of thoughts and anticipations.

His landlady was a kind woman, as round as she was tall, and
well-used to hosting ship's Officers. She told him she ran a
'respectable' establishment, fed him well with a hearty
breakfast every morning, and fussed over his laundry.

When he told her he was expecting a 'visitor' later on that
morning, she asked few questions. She was, she said, attending
Basilica all day and trusted that Yvgeny would respect the
Lord's day.

"You sailors," she said in passing, "who could deny you a
little comfort before battle? If I was a few years younger," she
winked, "I wouldn't mind accompanying such a handsome Officer
myself. " The Lady was not above a little flirting.

At 8. 30 she donned her black shawl and left for church. Yvgeny
sat alone in the spacious kitchen of the house.

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   He was on
tenterhooks. He took a block of tobacco from his pouch and began
to pare some into the palm of his hand. Rubbing the dark leaf
into a plug he stoked his meerschaum calabash and tamped it with
his thumb. He lit the pungent Yenidjie tobacco with a taper from
the stove and puffed clouds of smoke so it hung like a pall
around him. He sat by the window so he had a good view of the
street, and waited.

The narrow street was almost deserted outside. Occasionally a
door would bang as a little group left for church. Yvgeny held
his breath as each lone figure hove into view. At ten he poured
another cup of black coffee. It was tepid and bitter to the
taste but he drank it anyway.

A little after 10. 15 he saw a girl moving furtively up the
street. She wore a long black shawl clutched across her face
like a Moslem 'devotchka. ' She stopped outside the house and
looked up and down the street before tentatively walking across.
She had barely knocked before Yvgeny swung the door open for

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   She ducked in hurriedly then went to the window to double-

Yvgeny moved behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Were you seen?" he asked.

She shook her head, placing her hand on top of his.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Just a little nervous. "

"Afraid of being found out?" he asked.

"No," she said in a quiet voice.

"Then what?"

She shrugged and turned away from the window. Yvgeny watched
her fluid movement, the way her body undulated under her long
dress. She dropped her shawl, shook out her thick, straight,
fair hair. For a moment he watched her every movement as she
inspected the kitchen.

"You wish to see my room?" he suggested.

She looked at him and swallowed, eyes betraying conflict and
uncertainty. A little nod of the head signified consent.

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crossed the room to her and took her lightly by the hand.

"This way," he told her softly before leading her to the stairs.

The narrow single bed had been made. His landlady had a habit
of doing that so he barely noticed her absence. She'd also
quickly tidied up, although Yvgeny was economical in his
personal habits anyway. It's the first thing a young Naval Cadet
learns, to keep his quarters tidy.

"It's small," she said.

"A palace compared to the Grozny," he replied, "on board ship I
have enough room for a bunk and tiny table and that's it. The
enlisted men have even less. They hot bunk and. . . "

"Hot bunk?"

"Share. . .

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   different watches of course," he added, "not at the
same time. "

"And you don't share your bunk?" she asked with a hint of a grin.

"Sometimes," he told her, smiling in reply, "when we're
standing watches on and off. "

"And a watch is?"

"A period of duty on a warship. 4 hours on and 4 off when we're
on alert. "

"Goodness, how can you sleep?"

"You train yourself. Ships are very noisy, you get used to it,
the thumping of the engines, whine of machinery and people
moving about all the time making noise. . . "

She stood by his single window. It looked out over the
backyards to the port and the black hulls and canary-yellow
funnels of the Russian ships.

"Which one is yours?" she asked quietly.

He moved close behind her pointing out the window.

"You can't see it. Down behind those wharf buildings.

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   Just past
there you can see the stern of the Bravy, see? The Grozny is
moored alongside. "


He brushed his cheek in her hair. She hummed approval so he
circled her with his arms. Leaning back, she pressed her sweet
body against his.

"A little wine?" he suggested, moving towards the little
bedside cabinet.

"It's a bit early in the day," she replied, "but. . . why not!"

Yvgeny retrieved a bottle of Alazani from the cabinet together
with two glasses. He held the glasses up towards the window to
check they were clean before tipping a little of the red wine in
each. Crossing back to her, he offered her a glass which she
accepted with a little smile.

"Would you care to sit?" he asked.

He took her by the hand and guided her to the bed. She sat on
the covers, looking down at the floor. Yvgeny sat beside her,
lifted his glass, and offered a toast to a pleasant day.

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Katka remained looking at the carpet, idly swinging her foot.
Yvgeny was stuck for words. Instead he took a sip of wine,
swirling it around his mouth before swallowing.

"Yvgeny?" she said, quietly, "can I ask you a question?"

"Of course. "

"Why did you ask me here?" Her voice trembled a little.

"I. . . " Yvgeny's voice was thick, his tongue seemed twice its
size in his mouth. "I, guess I wanted to spend some time. . . with
you alone," he continued, his voice slow and deliberate.

"For what?" she asked.

He shrugged and looked away.

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   She turned to face him putting her
hand on his shoulder. He covered it with his and drew it down
pulling her towards him. Bending, he kissed her on the lips.

She closed her eyes as if to still her nerves. Katka, though,
was still aware of the scent of his cologne, the feel of his
cheek on hers, prickly with a low stubble. She breathed deep to
calm the butterflies. Instinctively, her arms circled his
shoulders for support.

Yvgeny kissed her again, longer andmore intense. Katka felt
herself falling backwards, but secure in his arms. His mouth
left her. She tried to speak but changed her mind. Instead she
put her arm around his neck as he rolled into place beside her.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered into her ear, before
kissing and nuzzling her neck. She relaxed a little, enjoying
the contact, the sweet words and the affection.


Katka Talsii's upbringing had been relatively free and easy.

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She enjoyed the farm, animals, and the wide-open spaces. Latvia
is flat, a country of rich pasture, although harsh in Winter.
Katka had the run of it, that is until she reached puberty.
Suddenly, she required a chaperone, was restricted in where she
could go and who she could see.

She knew, of course, all about sex. It's impossible not to,
living on a farm. Katka also noticed the boys, and they her.
However, as soon as she displayed an interest in any one of
them, her Mother, Father or Grandmother would forbid her to
leave the house until the 'danger' had passed.

Katka learned that her Mother had married her Father at 14 and
that her older Brother had appeared in a remarkably short time
after the wedding. She was to learn that wasn't an uncommon
occurrence in the community. Clearly her family desired a
properly arranged match for her and were taking pains to ensure
she was to be married a virgin. Katka, however, never adjusted
well to the imposition of restrictions on her liberty. She
learned to be sneaky. In fact, she discovered a taste for it.

Until now, however, she felt that she'd been merely playing
some childish games.

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   A rebellion, perhaps, against parental
rules. This Naval Officer was an altogether different intrigue.
His intensity both frightened and attracted her. She had the
feeling of slowly being swallowed up.


Until that Sunday she had never kissed anyone as long and as
deeply as Yvgeny Gorshin. Katka shivered in excitement and
arousal. She felt a wave of euphoria course through her body.

She cupped his cheek and ran her fingers through his hair.
Yvgeny kissed her again, open-mouthed. He stroked his palm over
her back and caressed her side, his thumb tantalisingly close to
the swell of her breast.

Katka found herself on her back with Yvgeny leaning over her,
kissing and stroking. He pressed his lips down below her neck,
his hand moved up from her tummy. Katka held her breath in
anticipation. Looking up enquiringly, he smiled when she gave a
slight nod. His hand and lips moved to the tip of her left
breast over the fabric of her white blouse.



"Do you wish to get more comfortable?" he murmured.

She was confused at first as to what he meant. He sat up and
began pulling on the buttons of his shirt. With a flash she
realised what he intended.

Doubts once again began to cloud her mind. She eased herself
upright and watched Yvgeny remove his shirt. He was well-
muscled, his torso displaying the benefit of youth and healthy

"Katka?" he asked softly. His expression showed concern and
something else, excitement, lust perhaps? "Katka, dear Katka?"
he said, "come. "

He took her hand and helped her from the bed. Taking her in his
arms again, his lips once again, fell on hers. Yvgeny's
fingertips explored the buttons of Katka's blouse running up her
back. Slowly, he began to undo them from the top, one by one.
She put her head against his chest, her arms around him, and
listened to his heavy breathing and the beat of his heart.

Her blouse fell open and bunched around her.

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   Yvgeny's hands
found the flesh of the small of her back, just below the line of
her wide corset. He hummed and nuzzled her neck, rubbing his
face in her hair.

"Come," he whispered, "I want to see you. "

He moved her away and she allowed him to pull her blouse from
her. She felt embarrassed as he looked down at her body,
drinking in the sight of her breasts encased in her iron-clad
corset. He kissed her bare shoulders, which made her gasp, as
his hands traced the outline of her chest. His lips travelled
down to her cleavage and he kissed her in the little valley. Of
themselves, her hands circled his head and held him fast to her.

Although the room was cool, Katka felt hot. She stumbled with
dizziness as Yvgeny turned her around and began to work on the
fastenings of her corset. She wanted to lie down but he held her
with one arm around her chest. With a sigh he released her
corset and she felt his cool hands cover her breasts.

"Let me sit," she told him. Yvgeny released her and she flopped
back down onto the bed. Rolling on to her back, she
instinctively folded her arms over her breasts, protectively.

kopeles athina - kopeles athina 


"What's the matter," he asked, concerned.

She shrugged her shoulders and looked away, unable to answer.
Yvgeny sat next to her, draped an arm over her shoulders and
rubbed his cheek in her hair. He told her how beautiful she was,
from the texture of her skin, her oval face and her dark, dark
eyes. She accepted his kiss once more, lingering and intense.

Fingertips explored her tummy, dwelt in her navel, then began
to inch higher. His knuckles brushed her breast flesh bulging
from underneath her arm. It tickled, she twitched, he got bolder
and eased his fingers under her arm. Katka grinned shyly but
allowed him to continue. Eventually she moved her arm,
permitting him to palm her little cone.

Shortly, his lips followed and soon he was happily sucking on
her stiffening nipple. She felt herself melt under his searing

Growling, Yvgeny became more urgent and insistent. He pushed
his hand down between her legs. Baulked by the heavy material of
her long, woollen dress, he began to inch it up her legs.

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Hesitantly, her knees fell open. She sensed his fingers
caressing the inside of her thighs. Gradually Katka's desire
began to match his. Rolling impatiently on her side, she urged
him to undo the buttons at the back of her, now uncomfortable,
skirt. Momentarily he left her to take off his trousers. Katka
used the time to dispense with her own garment.

She watched him in his underwear, his erection trapped and
bulging beneath the fabric. The gleam of perspiration trickled
down his flat chest, which heaved in anticipation. She felt
drawn by his lust, like looking into a blazing fire.

He was on her, between her legs and grinding that delicious
bulge into her very centre. Her body was a blur of sensation as
he kissed, caressed and nibbled her face, neck and aching
breasts. At that moment she wanted nothing but to be possessed
by him, and he, her.

Her pants, Yvgeny pulled roughly from her. His fingers opened
her like a flower. She was ready when he presented his hard cock
at her entrance.

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   Her knees she spread and held aloft as he
slowly pushed past her resistance. His hands held her around the
bottom as he undulated against her.

He paused and mashed his lips to hers before continuing,
slightly faster.

"Oooh," she uttered a cry; more an expulsion of air as she
climbed higher and higher.

Katka knew about orgasms. She also knew about the male
genitalia in circumstances she wouldn't reveal to Yvgeny for a
long, long time. If he ever wondered about her apparent
familiarity with the act of love, he was tactful enough not to
enquire. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when she began to
thrust back at him with an increasing urgency.

He burst within her all too soon; one long powerful stream of

"Go on!" she cried desperately as she continued to pound
herself against him faster and faster. Yvgeny held on as Katka
gasped and babbled.

He never thought he would see such a powerfully erotic sight as
the face of his new lover in the throes of exquisite pleasure.
She screamed through clenched teeth, her eyes screwed up in
concentration. Her thighs clamped him, her hands pulled his arse
hard against her pussy.

Katka's breathing gradually began to slow, but still she
wouldn't release him.

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   Still joined, he lay on top of her until
his flacid cock eventually became dislodged. Only then would she
permit him to rise from the bed to attend to his other needs.

Returning, he watched her expression of sweet contentment and
thought of desertion. He didn't want to leave her, this bed,
this room and this dreadful Latvian port.

He checked his fob-watch on the dresser and discovered it was
only a little after 11. 30. It had taken just over an hour to
lose his heart. Sighing he climbed once more onto the bed.


It wasn't quite two before Katka finally slipped out of the
door and back home. They had made love again after lunch,
slower, but just as satisfying. Yvgeny watched her from the
window until she passed out of sight then still watched the
empty street. Perhaps, he thought, she may return.

He knew they would marry. He was as certain of that as he was
about anything. They touched on the subject in the afterglow of
their second coupling.

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   She asked him to return for her. She said
her love would protect him from harm when he faced the Japanese.

"When can I see you again. . . alone?" he'd asked her.

She'd been non-committal, saying it was awkward with her family
keeping such a close watch on her when they were in town. With a
heavy heart, he returned to his ship that evening for the night


Unusually, the Captain was on the bridge that night. Gravely he
requested all the Officers to attend a conference in the mess.

The atmosphere was thick and soon became thicker as each
Officer lit his pipe. Lieutenant-Commander Pikalevoi wiped the
perspiration from his forehead before scanning the folder spread
on the table in front of him.

"Gentlemen," he said, "we have received our sailing orders. The
fleet is to depart at first light on the 1st of October. God
save the Tsar!"

Yvgeny was still trying to absorb the news as his fellows shot
to their feet in salute.

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   Reluctantly he stood also; his
hesitancy was not noticed in the general cheer.

"Now, Gentlemen, the contents of the orders as they pertain to
us are these: We will form the 2nd half-flotilla along with
Bezuprechny and Bravy. Our normal station will be in the van,
200 metres to starboard of the first division. However," he
continued, "in safe waters we are to be towed to conserve our
coal supplies. We have been assigned the tug Kamchatka. Any
questions so far?"

"The Kamchatka?" Lieutenant Lineavitch, Second Officer,
complained, "it is too slow. It can't make more than 10 knots in
a following sea. "

"The speed of the fleet will be a maximum of 9 and a half
knots, Lieutenant. What's the hurry? Afraid the Japanese will
die of boredom before we get there?"

"I could paddle a log there faster," he told his Commander.

"Perhaps, but that speed is what the Admiral ordered and that
is the speed we will all do. Any other questions?"

"Our first port of call?" Yvgeny asked.

"Casablanca," the Commander replied, "in Morocco. Then Dakar in
Senegal before a long stretch down to German Southwest Africa.

    We will need to coal at sea for that journey. The laws of
    neutrality," he went on, "forbid us to coal and provision in
    those harbours but I think the French are going to be a little
    lax about such things.

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       The Admiral said, however, that the
    English are particularly troublesome. We are to be on alert when
    we are close to their waters. "

    Pikalevoi ended the conference then brought out a bottle of
    Vodka for the traditional toast. This went on well into the
    night until the Grozny's Commander slumped into a coma. The rest
    of the ship's Officers then staggered or crawled back to their


    The sailing orders were particularly sketchy. Many details were
    left up to Rhozdventsky's subordinates. Hence the Divisions'
    Commanders, Felkersam and Enkvist, struggled to make sense of
    them with little direction from the Commander in Chief.

    The disposition of the Destroyers, for instance, came from
    Enkvist's staff on the Aurora. As Commander of the Scouting
    forces he had overall command of Almaz and her charges. It had
    not yet occurred to the Russian fleet to co-ordinate the
    Destroyers under a single dedicated Commodore.

    The Almaz itself was little more than an armed yacht. Its
    original purpose was to provide comfortable accomodation for the
    senior officers but Rhozdventsky thought the arrangement too
    cumbersome for effective command. The Cruiser's fighting value
    was minimal, speed its only useful quality.

    For Yvgeny Gorshin the news meant that he was unable to see
    Katka while the fleet prepared for sailing.

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       He didn't have to
    tell her why. The sudden activity around the squadron was pretty
    obvious to everyone.

    Trains began to arrive daily from Riga carrying final
    provisions. This included automobiles, food delicacies,
    including caviar by the ton, and crates and crates of Champagne.
    All this began to be stowed somehow in the supply ships or piled
    into the warships. The Battleships began to sink even lower in
    the water under the weight of the supplies.

    The Alexander the Third in particular was crammed full of
    Aristocrats. Many were scions of some of Russia's leading
    dynasties. These younger sons expected to bring their expensive
    tastes along with them. If Admiral Rhozdventsky had any concerns
    with the overloading of his ships with non-essentials he never
    left any record. Probably he merely accepted it as a reality of
    the Tsarist Navy.

    The most serious problem that worried the Admiral at this time
    was the lack of manpower. Russia was suffering from a shortage
    of trained seamen and it was said that many a malefactor was
    given a choice by the Magistrate of prison or service in the
    Navy. Certainly on some of the ships, up to a third of the crew
    had never been to sea before. This may have been less of a
    difficulty in the days of sail where a sailor could learn his
    trade at sea.

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       But warships were now becoming highly technical
    requiring crews with at least a modicum of formal education. Gun
    crews, for example, were augmented by Army Artillerymen. They
    would find shooting at floating targets an altogether different
    exercise compared to land fortifications.

    Sub-Lieutenant Gorshin was kept busy checking the torpedo
    equipment. The weapon was launched by compressed air fed up
    through the deck from a compressor in the engine compartment. It
    charged a brass cylinder mounted on top of the tube which was
    connected to the torpedo by a bridle. When the valve was opened,
    air forced a piston along the cylinder which in turn shot the
    torpedo from its tube. It was a hazardous business and there was
    much that could go wrong. Being relatively new technology, the
    system was still being developed in 1904.

    It was known that the Japanese fleet were accompanied by as
    many as thirty Torpedo boats, all of the most modern British
    design. There was much talk of being ambushed, even that the
    Japanese had flotillas laying in wait for the Russians in waters
    around the British Isles. The one single operational order
    directed at the Russian Destroyer flotilla by the flagship was
    that they were to pay close attention during the passage up the
    English Channel.


    "There developed a kind of hysteria," Admiral Gorshin told
    Ensign Koscuiko, "a kind of 'torpedo mania. ' That, I believe,
    was the main cause of what came to be called 'The Battle of the
    North Sea'. "

    The young Archivist nodded respectfully.



    "But in those days," he continued, "the torpedo was a very
    inaccurate weapon. You had to get very close to an opponent to
    be certain of achieving a hit. Even then, it was not unknown to
    be chased by one's own torpedo. I have known at least half a
    dozen boats who have torpedoed themselves. "

    Admiral (ret) Yvgeny Gorshin reached for another cigarette. He
    asked the young Ensign to fetch him a fresh pot of tea from the
    small kitchenette of the apartment. Swirling the black liquid in
    his fine porcelain cup, he reached for a nearby bottle of
    Stolichnaya Vodka and splashed a little in the tea.

    "Katka used to bring me my tea," he told the Ensign, "but I
    used to hide the Vodka and put it in when she wasn't watching.
    She always knew," he added, "I'm certain of it. For 60 years she
    never said anything about it. I'm sure she used to turn her back
    deliberately. "

    The Ensign watched the od Admiral turn his face away, his eyes

    "She was the love of my life," he told him eventually.


    Yvgeny had one last opportunity to see Katka before the fleet
    sailed. He found her at the family stall in the market.

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    time he was able to persuade her Grandmother to allow him to
    speak with Katka alone. That is, providing they didn't go out of
    her sight.

    Quickly he told her about the fleet's imminent departure and
    that he wouldn't be able to get away. This was to be the last
    liberty he was to receive before he sailed.

    "Tonight," she whispered, "after ten. Come to the back of the
    house by the garden wall. I will come out. Can you find it in
    the dark?"

    He told her he could find his way to her under any
    circumstances she could imagine. She stifled a smile, mindful of
    her Grandmother's watchful eye. Yvgeny touched his cap and said
    a chaste goodbye.

    Yvgeny returned to his lodgings and settled accounts with his
    landlady. He found he was going to miss his little room. The
    room where he and Katka had sealed their bond that afternoon.
    Again he pondered desertion. But his upbringing, honour and
    innate good sense pushed the thought from his mind.

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       No, he would
    have to wait until the fleet reached Vladivostok, if it ever got
    there, for a chance to be reunited with her.

    He allowed himself plenty of time to follow Katka's directions.
    At last he found the stone wall at the back of the garden and
    hid in the shadows. At half past ten he concluded that she
    wasn't coming when he detected movement.

    "Yvgeny?" a voice whispered, "are you there?"

    "Here!" he told her. Presently she appeared over the wall and
    jumped down beside him.

    By the moonlight he could see her mischievous smile. She was
    enjoying the game. He grabbed for her and wrapped her in an

    "You're late," he said, grinning.

    She wore a fur coat against the cold night. Underneath, Yvgeny
    could see she was dressed in a long night dress with a bodice of
    fine embroidery. He kissed her thoroughly on the lips before
    snuggling her protectively against his body.

    "Yvgeny, you must steal me onto your ship," she said, "I don't
    want to remain here. If the Japanese sink you I want to die by
    your side.

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    "No!" he replied aghast, "how could I do my job knowing you. . .
    Besides, there's nowhere to hide on the Grozny, it's too small. "

    "I don't care," she answered, miserably. "Father said I mustn't
    turn you from your duty. He said in any case you will forget me
    by your next port of call. He thinks all sailors have fancies in
    every port and I'm not to be one. "

    "It seems your Father knows a lot about the sea. . . for a
    Farmer," he wryly told her.

    "He doesn't know you," she said, softly.

    Yvgeny kissed her again and slipped his hands around her slim
    waist. She trembled and held him tightly around the shoulders.

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    His hands drifted up her back under her fur coat, delighting in
    the warmth of her body. His fingers sought her lovely contours,
    his thumbs found her breasts. It was apparent to him she wore
    nothing underneath her nightdress.

    He explored her down over her bottom until he found the bare
    skin of her thighs. Slowly he began to inch the fabric higher,
    growing excited by the smooth texture of her inner thighs.

    "We can't!" she said, giggling.

    "We can," he replied, smiling.

    "You're crazy!"

    "I know!"

    Yvgeny found a patch of heather that wasn't too wet from the
    night dew. He sat propped against the stone wall and got Katka
    to squat on him. Struggling down his trousers, he freed his
    stiff cock. She slowly lowered herself on it then instantly
    began to squirm and wriggle. All through this she giggled,
    dipping her head down below the level of the stone wall,
    delighting in the daring, the risk.

    Yvgeny's hands held and caressed her breasts, still encased in
    the fabric of her nightgown. As the act grew more serious, he
    transferred his attention to her bare bottom, guiding her
    movements as she wriggled faster and faster.

    Katka whimpered as she became more excited.

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       She bit her hand to
    stop from crying out. Once again, Yvgeny looked in wonder at the
    face of his lover as the first spasm of her orgasm took her body.

    Spent, she gave him one last lingering kiss before sneaking
    back towards the house.

    Yvgeny wandered back towards the Grozny where he took to his
    bunk with a bottle of Vodka. He consumed about half the bottle
    before sleep overcame him.