3 p.m.—They gave us ices for lunch to-day; they were steaming though cold. The heat is awful. Precautions are being taken against sunstrokes. There are some indications that we shall stay here till Wednesday—i.e. November 3rd. If we do not go to Gaboon, but steer for the next port on the list, we shall have a tremendous trip.
Our admiral called on the local commandant and invited him to lunch.
Just been urgently summoned on board the Donskoi.
November 1st.—Just returned from the transport Malay. She is damaged below the water-line.
Evening.—At 3 p.m. Lieutenant Nelidoff (son of our ambassador at Paris) died from sunstroke. The deceased was a wonderful linguist, knowing seven or eight languages. He will be buried to-morrow.
Our officers have just returned from the shore. According to them there is nothing interesting to be seen. If I can manage it, I shall go ashore to-morrow. I am too tired to-day.
November 2nd (5 p.m.)—I am sitting in a restaurant, drinking lemonade. How you would have laughed just now! I asked the negro waiter for the menu, and he brought me cards, dice, and a board covered with cloth. There is nothing to do on shore. I shall go on board by the first boat. They are burying Nelidoff. I hear the volleys.
I returned from the shore by the seven o'clock boat. Our doctor distinguished himself. He tore some fruit from a tree and ate it. Scarcely had he returned on board when he was seized with colic and vomiting.
There are some Japanese here. Our officers saw two of them. Evidently they are spies.
We leave to-morrow, and I go on board the Donskoi in the morning. I shall scarcely have time when I return to add two or three words to this letter before the post goes. Our trip will be a long one—about ten days.