CHAPTER C
FROM SINGAPORE TO NAGASAKI
July 18th.—To-day we returned to our ship. A Portuguese cruiser, which had just arrived at Singapore, has sent out one of her officers to salute my husband on board. I sat on deck and looked about me. A troop of jugglers, who begged leave to give a performance, swallowed swords, transformed sand into rice, and showed us how a tree may spring up from seed they had just sown. They produced a paper from their pockets, filled with earth, which they strew out into a pot, and when it was full, they set a seed in it and covered it over with a handkerchief. We saw a movement beneath that handkerchief, it fluttered, and was lifted higher and higher. Finally the magicians whisked it off, and there was a shrub, leaf and stem—all complete. This was really marvellous! A little Hindoo girl, aged five, performed the Danse du ventre, after which she settled herself on the knees of our Portuguese guest, and pulled very unceremoniously at his moustache, demanding “baksheesh.” Around us glided, backwards and forwards, small boats filled with half-naked natives, who dived into the water for coins, and came on the surface smiling, with cheeks puffed up like a well-filled purse.
July 19th, 20th.—Great was the desire of all the passengers to visit the celebrated cigar-manufactory of Manilla, but our captain opposed our landing on the Philippine Islands, because cholera had broken out in the town, and thus Manilla was black-balled.
July 21st.—We are in the sphere of a cyclone, and battle with the swell of the ocean. We mount, descend, and roll from right to left. Enormous billows throw clouds of foam as high as a mountain on the deck, and two liquid walls meet to swallow us up. A terrible gust of wind tore the great sail, shredding it to pieces, and its tatters floated like old banners on the top of the mast. I passed the night on the floor in the corridor, and woke up after three hours of poor sleep, feeling something tickling my nose. It was the tail of a rat the size of a kitten, which was promenading over my face.
July 22nd.—Daybreak came at last to put an end to my torments. The tempest began to abate. To-day is the namesday of our Empress Dowager, and the boat has assumed a holiday aspect. At dinner Sergy regaled us with champagne, and offered up libations to the recruits and the crew. He raised his glass to the health of Her Majesty; the sailors shouted loud hurrahs and got up a dance on the deck.
July 23rd.—Early in the morning we perceived in the distance the coasts of Formosa. We have to go to-day through dangerous parts filled with coral banks, and sadly famed for numerous shipwrecks.
July 24th, 25th.—The weather is very fine, the sea—a polished mirror. A favourable wind sends us forward, all the sails are up, and the Orel is running at the rate of fifteen miles an hour.
CHAPTER CI
NAGASAKI
July 26th.—This morning at ten o’clock we arrived at Nagasaki, and anchored alongside the Voronege, a Russian boat, bringing back to Russia a thousand soldiers. These men, who had just finished their military service in Siberia, and our recruits, who had not begun it, exchanged frenzied hurrahs.