August 11th.—The rain falls in torrents, and the state of the sky does not promise improvement of the weather for the moment. The tempest-flag is hoisted in the port. Impossible to go out to sea to-morrow!
August 12th.—The sea is much calmer and we sail from Nagasaki to-night. Before embarking we went for a drive in rikshas and met nearly all the officers from the “Mandchour.” By night as we approached our ship in a canoe, our rower shouted out the password “An officer,” to the question, “Who rows?” of the sailor on duty.
The deck was lighted with different coloured lanterns in our honour. I escaped to my cabin whilst my husband was being greeted by the ship’s officers.
CHAPTER LXX
ACROSS THE JAPANESE SEA
August 13th.—We were anchored in the bay the whole night waiting for the break of day, and left Nagasaki at six in the morning. The day is very fine. I lay comfortably stretched in my chair on the deck, covered all over with an awning to ameliorate the ardour of the sun. The crew was exercising on the upper deck. I hear the command of “Fire!” (powder charges). A second “False alarm” was rung, “Man overboard!” someone cried, and in the space of three minutes a life-boat was equipped and lowered, manned by two sailors who brought up triumphantly to the officer on duty the huge club, which represented the shipwrecked man.
August 14th.—The barometer has fallen. The wind is blowing very hard, and the sea is swelling rapidly. I remained shut up in my cabin all day stretched inertia in my narrow berth; I see the ceiling rise and descend. A very disagreeable feeling indeed!
August 15th.—The sea is something frightful. The wind moans and our ship pitches and groans as if she was going to fall in pieces.