Bay of Biscay.
Fate herself prevented our going to Brest, and steered us straight across the Bay of Biscay to Vigo (Spain).
Such a thick fog came up at 1 p.m. that the ship astern was not visible. We are steaming through milk! The sirens are shrieking in turn, one ship after another.
The following ships are in our division: first the Suvaroff, next the Alexander III., then the Borodino, Orel, and the transport Anadir.
Perhaps it is just as well we did not go to Brest. The entrance to the port is very difficult, dangerous, and impossible in a fog.
If we do not go to Crete, from Vigo onwards the way before us is wide—the whole ocean!
Lying on my bed last night I watched the rats making themselves at home in my cabin. I used to sleep with my feet towards the door, but have now put my pillow there, because of the rats. They can jump from the writing-table on to the settee, and could easily have jumped on my head.
Since we left the port of Alexander III. at Libau, a fortnight ago, no telegrams have been sent, except those allowed by the admiral. This was done so that spies should not warn the Japanese, waiting for us in the Baltic. The Japanese evidently thought (report said there were more than a hundred of them in the Baltic) that we should wait for the Oleg at Libau. The admiral, however, did not wait for the Oleg, and left. Their spies did not succeed in warning them. Though telegrams were received at the office, they were not sent on for two days. Perhaps this accounts for their inactivity.
Evening.—The fog dispersed and our division reassembled. The crew will sleep at their guns without undressing till we reach Vigo.