AN INTERVIEW WITH GORSHIN (Part 2) "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. 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. 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 her. She ducked in hurriedly then went to the window to double- check. 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. He 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... 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. Just past there you can see the stern of the Bravy, see? The Grozny is moored alongside." "Oh!" 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. 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. 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 and more 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. 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. 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 exercise. "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. 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. "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 assault. 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. 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. 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 semen. "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. 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. 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 watch. --------------------------------------------------------- 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. 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. 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 quarters. ---------------------------------------------------- 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. 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. 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 moist. "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. This 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. 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 embrace. "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." "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. 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. 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.