April 28th.—My work in the Bezuprechny was successfully carried out. I returned to the fleet in the torpedo-boat Bodry. We met the fleet returning to Van Fong Bay to coal, as the open sea was rough.
We leave here to-morrow morning. The French sternly drive us away, but we stay on. It is impertinence. Port Dayot is really the same as Van Fong, as it is a gulf joined to it by a wide strait. It is very beautiful. The shores are hilly and covered with thick wood. In the corner of the bay lies a wrecked French gunboat, which is being dismantled. There are a lot of goats, peacocks, monkeys, elephants, and wild beasts on shore.
Yesterday I dined in the Bezuprechny. The night was calm. They brought officers over from the neighbouring boats. They all live in a very friendly way. It is their custom to give each other presents on their names-days and birthdays. Sometimes the presents are very curious ones.
They invited me to spend the night, but I refused. I went to the Kamchatka. A cabin was ready for me there, but I preferred spending the night half-sitting in a long chair, in the fresh air on deck. At six o'clock a torpedo-boat came for me. In the Kamchatka they begged me to take several things to the Suvaroff. I did not do so.
Yesterday, in the hospital-ship Orel, the crew were sent into the hold for something. There were poisonous gases, and they began to suffocate. All except one escaped. The deceased was buried to-day.
The shoulder-straps you sent me are not uniform. They are an ensign's. I made a present of them to an engineer, Krimer. He was so pleased that he treated the wardroom to champagne. I did not like to give them away, but persuaded myself that I must not be a dog in the manger.
I treated some of the others to the almond cake. It smells somewhat strange, and some insects like beetles have established themselves in it.
We move on to Vladivostok the day after to-morrow. Many fear danger. After your letters I feel bold, and look to the future with hope. There is an idea that the Japanese fleet will not fight a fleet action until we arrive off Vladivostok. They will feign torpedo attacks, while in the meantime they will cut us off by land. Who can foretell the events?
For God's sake do not be anxious at not receiving letters or telegrams for a very long time. We are passing along uninhabited shores. Letters will be sent as occasions offer. Our postal arrangements are bad. Some of your letters to me are lost, and some of your October letters I have only just received.
April 29th.—We went to sea early this morning. A steamer passed close to the fleet, making an attempt to escape. Our torpedo-boats and scouting cruiser overtook her. She hoisted English colours. We only questioned, and did not examine her. She said she was going from Japan to the south, carrying coolies. We let her go.