December 2nd.—To-day, for the first time, I saw cormorants swimming at sea; I also saw a jellyfish.
The officer commanding the German expedition and the commander of the native troops came to call on the admiral. The latter did not return the call himself, but sent the flag-captain. The Orel has lost an anchor and forty fathoms of cable. They are now grappling for them, as it was decided not to send down divers for fear of sharks.
December 3rd.—In the Kamchatka they obtained an English paper from a collier, in which it is related that the Japanese attacked the part of our fleet that is going viâ the Suez Canal, in or near the Red Sea. Our ships apparently received some damages. Perhaps this is a newspaper yarn. The Roland went to sea yesterday, to bury the body of a sailor who died in the Korea.
An order has been issued that we are to steam without any lights, in absolute darkness. Hitherto all lights were put out except distinctive lights—i.e. those absolutely necessary to show we are steaming. Now these are forbidden.
It is settled that we leave here to-morrow morning early.
What surprises are in store for us on the way to Madagascar? That there will be some is beyond doubt. I have been running round to-day like a squirrel in a cage. I went to the Orel and Alexander, and was, as usual, a long time in the Borodino.
The first lieutenant fell into a coal-shoot, hurt his leg, and is now laid up. It is very strange, whenever I go on board the Borodino my spirits go up. I have noticed this more than once, and it is always with pleasure that I go on board her.
Boats from every ship helped the Orel to search for her anchor and cable. They only found them to-day at three o'clock. They had, after all, to send divers down several times.
December 4th.—I have not slept well the last few days. I am inclined to sleep, but it is impossible to lie down. The rats have greatly increased on board. However, they afford a certain amount of fun. The dog Flagmansky (this name was given him because he came on board the same day as the staff) found a rat in one of the cabins, and chased it into a cupboard. Several men took an active part in the chase. All this time Flagmansky barked, whined, rushed into the corners, scratched at the cupboard, and bit it.
The hunt was not crowned with success, and he is still in the cabin guarding the rat. The cur has an extraordinary passion for rats. I put him into my cabin once (he begged to go there), and repented. He made such a disgraceful noise. For an hour and a half I could not drag him away. I had to call the orderly, who with great difficulty pulled him away from the cupboard.