The return from the club in the morning, a frightened wife with a telegram, the rush from Petersburg to Cronstadt, hurried calls, appointment to the Suvaroff, good-byes, send-offs, a new service, etc., etc.
I am not yet accustomed to my new surroundings.
To-day I bade good-bye to the captain and officers of the Borodino, and to the foremen and workmen. They wished me good luck, drank my health, cheered, and the band played. They evidently had a very friendly disposition towards me.
The parting with the foremen and workmen was cordial. It was very sad to see their doleful faces. They all cried before the end of their farewell speeches. I kissed all and thanked them. They blessed me with the ikon of St. Nicholas. I promised to give them my photograph as a memento. I had nothing else to repay them with. I could think of nothing better.
August 30th.—Yesterday we left Cronstadt. The Emperor overtook the fleet in the Alexandria, and steamed round it. All the time bands were playing, the men cheered, the fleet saluted. It was a superb sight. At times the smoke from the guns was so thick that the nearest ships were not visible. To-day we arrived at Revel at 7 a.m. It is said we are to remain here for nearly a month.
To-day is the Suvaroff's name-day. There was mass. No festivities.
8 p.m.—Such a worry. Nowhere can I find room for myself. When I was working on board the Borodino, as you may imagine, I constantly consoled myself with the thought of rest and of leave. The Borodino is completed. I might now have been free, might now have been living at home with my wife. But ah! fate! It seems to me that I shall not return. My predecessor in this cabin that I occupy went mad and was retired. This may be superstition, but it is nevertheless unpleasant. It is said that to-day the captain of the Asia momentarily lost his head and steered his ship to ram the Apraxin; the presence of mind of the officer of the watch saved the Asia and Apraxin from damage.
October 3rd.—At sea, on the way to the island of Bornholm. Time flies. Daily there are new impressions, worries, gossip, and work. On the eve of our departure from Libau there was prayer, with genuflexions for "Boyarin Zenovie."[1]
Yesterday we had vespers, and to-day mass. Everything so triumphant and showy! The weather was glorious. At lunch the band played. Suddenly it was reported that the torpedo-boat Buistry (Rapid) had rammed the Oslyabya—had knocked a hole in herself and damaged her torpedo-tubes. The Buistry approached the Suvaroff. With the help of a megaphone (i.e. a large speaking-trumpet) the admiral conversed with her. They managed to plug the holes. It will be my work to mend them. We shall anchor off Bornholm, where I hope to repair the torpedo-boat. To-night there will be danger. We shall all sleep in our clothes and all guns will be loaded. We shall pass through a narrow strait. We are afraid of striking on Japanese mines in these waters. Perhaps there will be no mines; but considering that long ago Japanese officers went to Sweden and, it is said, swore to destroy our fleet, we must be on our guard. This strait is eminently suitable for torpedo-boat attacks or for laying down mines. When you get this letter we shall have passed the dangerous place, and it is no use your worrying yourself about it.