December 4th.—From Angra Pequena to Madagascar.

I only went to bed at 4 a.m., and rose at 8 a.m. We prepared to leave here at dawn, but at 1.30 a thick fog came on and continued till 9.30. As soon as it dispersed, the fleet weighed anchor. In the night a schooner came and lay near the fleet. The officer of the guard went on board. She is flying the English flag, and says she has come here for guano. Our next anchorage is at Madagascar, near the small island of St. Mary. This island lies near the north-eastern shores of Madagascar.

December 5th.—There was a short mass to-day.

A steamer was perceived far off going in our direction. Her funnel and two masts could only be seen from our masts. Perhaps she has come from St. Helena, and we may expect a surprise. At first she was noticed by the smoke from her funnel. She is now, no doubt, following us.

Something has happened to the Aurora's engines, but she has repaired it by now. To-day the Suvaroff steamed with one engine for a quarter of an hour.

Even the Malay, which has to be constantly nursed, is steaming successfully now. I expect several repairs were made when she was at Angra Pequena.

8 p.m.—The steamer which is on our course, though far away, overtook the fleet and went in the direction of Capetown.

December 6th.—To-day is December 6th. Where have I not spent this day? In Cronstadt, in Petersburg, in Tzarskoe Selo, in Tashkend, and in Gothland aboard the Poltava. Now I am spending it near the Cape of Good Hope. Who would believe that they would spend St. Nicholas Day near the southern coast of Africa? There was mass, prayers, and a salute. If foreigners heard it, no doubt it will appear in the papers that there was a fight, as firing had been heard.

We have not yet reached the Cape of Good Hope. We are just steaming past Capetown. Table Mountain is visible. The swell is tremendous. The ships are rolling. It is fearful to look at the Nachimoff and Donskoi, which are rolling especially heavily. The height of the waves sometimes reaches seventy feet. I was told this by the flag navigating officer. If we double the Cape in safety, then thanks be to God.

They have arranged a game for the crew. They hang up a bucket of water with a board attached to it, in which there is a hole. Those playing have, in passing under the bucket, to thrust a stick through the hole. This they seldom succeed in doing. Usually the stick hits the board, and the bucket is turned over, spilling the water on the player. The players are driven under the bucket on a field gun-carriage.

We are steaming near the shore. It is hilly, dark, and treeless. Table Mountain is distinguished by its height and its summit, which is flat, as if the top of the mountain were cut off; this is apparently why it got its name. The Cape of Good Hope is a shapeless pile of cliffs. There is a lighthouse. We have now passed this cape and Capetown. To-night we shall be off Cape Agulhas. When we have passed it we shall have left the Atlantic and entered the Indian Ocean. We shall be able to say, one ocean passed; two more remain, the Indian and the Pacific. As the crow flies we are now at the greatest distance from Petersburg. Up to the present we have been going away from Japan, now we begin to approach. Near Capetown we met an enormous four-masted ship, flying the American flag. She was coming towards us. We are expecting to meet three suspicious schooners.

The weather is getting worse. In two hours we shall be on the same meridian as Petersburg; our time will be the same as it is there—that is, midnight. After this Petersburg time will be behind ours; hitherto it has been before. Evidently you cannot double the Cape without very bad weather. Perhaps it is all for the best, as it will be more difficult for the suspicious schooners to commit any hostile action.

Astern of the fleet and on the same course there is a steamer. At first she showed lights, now they are not visible. The moon is shining, but will soon set, and it will be quite dark. This will be the time to expect any unpleasant occurrences.

I hear the admiral does not want to take the small torpedo-boats with him, among them being the Rezvy (Sportive). Perhaps some of the officers of these boats will be transferred to other ships. It has been decided that the transports Malay and Kniaz Gortchakoff are to return to Russia from Madagascar. Their engines are bad, and have to be nursed continually.

All the fleet and auxiliary cruisers will assemble at Madagascar.

The same steamer is astern of us; she has her lights out. It is not merely out of curiosity she does this.

At first I used to be disturbed by reports of this kind, but am no longer. No doubt it is rather alarming, but nothing like it was before. How can this be explained? Nerves a little blunted, perhaps. It is summer here now. Nevertheless, at this time of the year ice sometimes drifts from the antarctic regions. They say a mountain of ice 100 feet above the water floated to the shore in summer-time.

December 7th.—Just as I sat down at table I was called away. It causes an unpleasant sensation when the engines race—that is, when the screws suddenly begin to turn very much quicker. This happens when there is no water over them, and is caused by the vessel pitching heavily; consequently, there is no resistance to their turning.

The steamer which has been following us all along is not to be seen. Perhaps towards night she will show herself somewhere. The wind has got up and raised a big sea. The sea is a following one. Great mountains of water pour on the upper deck. The ship is beginning to roll more heavily; we may expect a gale towards night if the wind strengthens. It is a good thing it is not a head sea—the ship steams more easily and does not roll so heavily. There is a lot of water on the deck in my cabin, as well as in other people's. I am now sitting with my legs huddled up. The water comes into the cabins through badly closed ports and badly riveted sides. The waves sometimes hit the side and make a noise like a shot from a gun. The weather is so bad that we need have no fear of being followed by the Japanese. They could no doubt attempt to fire a torpedo from the steamer, but it could hardly hit, and the steamer would certainly be fired on and sunk.

The battleships Suvaroff, Alexander, Borodino, and Orel have many defects which could be remedied in the construction of the Slava (Glory).

December 8th.—The weather was such yesterday that God grant we do not experience it a second time. Early in the morning it was tolerable, but later on the wind began to freshen. Standing on deck was difficult. The waves grew larger and larger—like immensely steep hills round the ship. They attained a height of forty feet.

From three to four o'clock the fury of the gale reached its height. I am not sufficiently eloquent to describe it all. The ship tossed and groaned complainingly. Everything was tightly shut, but water came in everywhere. It poured in cascades on the upper deck, went into the turrets, stokeholds, engine room, conning tower, and even on to the bridge. You could not walk on the poop, or you would be washed overboard. You could not breathe in the cabins; the atmosphere was like a bath (steam), if not worse. The wind roared, the ship rolled. The waves came up quite vertically—you looked and saw a wall of water. A boat which hung at the davits was smashed to bits, torn away, and carried off to sea.

Astern of the Suvaroff came the Alexander; at times, when the sea lifted the latter, her ram was visible. Sometimes her bows were at the bottom of a wave, and her stern at the top; and then all her deck, from bow to stern, could be seen from the Suvaroff. When I saw this I could not at first believe it. The best-behaved ship was the Borodino; she is a ship to be proud of.

At last the weather got to such a pitch that, had the engines or rudder of any ship given way, she would have been in a hopeless position. To think of help from other vessels would be useless. At this time each ship only thought of herself. The steamer Roland was flooded with waves minute after minute; she had to increase speed to escape them, and disappeared out of sight of the fleet.

She rejoined to-day. Thank God it was a following sea and a fair wind. What would it have been had it been a head or beam wind?

At 5 p.m. something went wrong with the engines of the Malay. She stopped and turned broadside to the wind. If you could but see what a sad sight she presented! It was impossible to help her, even if she had gone to the bottom before the eyes of the whole fleet. Nearly all the underwater part of her was visible. Wave after wave rolled over her. To help herself a little she set small and wretched sails. They were no good. The whole fleet, without lessening speed, went past the Malay, leaving her to cope by herself with the broken engine and the bad weather. Since then she has not been seen. How does she fare? It is not known whether she is afloat or sunk. We shall know nothing before we get to Madagascar. Perhaps all will yet be well.

The Indian Ocean has not given us a very affable reception. They were afraid that the wind would get up to-day, but although it is fresh it is tolerable. Storms such as we experienced yesterday last for a fortnight without a break. Last night, when the gale abated, rain squalls began to pass over us. This pleasure was not continuous; besides, we were wet enough without them. I went to bed late. I had wandered all over the ship. Went to sleep undressed. My feet had been wet through since the morning. While at lunch yesterday in the admiral's cabin a large wave rolled on to the upper deck; the door leading to the poop from the cabin had not been closed, and a cascade of water poured in. Every one raised their legs and kept them so until sailors had dried up the water. This wave was one of the first to fall on the ship.

What weather! You seldom see the like! I wrote to you that we had passed the meridian of Petersburg. I was mistaken. We only passed it to-day at 8 a.m.

December 9th.—The weather is gradually mending. The ship rolls lightly.

In the Suvaroff the cook and the messman were French. The messman left the ship at Vigo, and the former cook became messman. Every one grumbled at him. At last it was decided to get rid of him. One of the officers undertook to superintend the cooking. The messman will be put on shore at Madagascar.

Thanks to the favouring gale and fair wind we shall, it appears, reach Madagascar considerably earlier than was anticipated.

December 10th.—The weather is nearly quite calm, although the ship is still rolling slightly. At 8.30 the Borodino left the line. Something went wrong with her steering gear. She has not left the fleet, but is steaming alongside it. Now she has repaired the damage.

There are about 1,400 miles more to St. Mary, our next anchorage. Under favourable conditions we should arrive there in six or seven days. We shall get the mails and newspapers there. No news has been received about the Malay, though they call her up by signal in the evenings. If she has not suffered shipwreck, she must be far from the fleet. Her speed is inconsiderable. We shall learn her fate at Madagascar.

December 11th.—During the night on board the Suvaroff the coal in the bunker caught fire. The fire was speedily extinguished with steam, which was injected into the bunker.

There is only a slight wind to-day, but the deadly swell continues. It is impossible to open the ports. Yesterday they brought my cap-covers from the wash. They are so torn now I can hardly wear them. You cannot imagine what a barbarous wash-house we have. They bring back the linen torn and stained. No matter how strong a material your tunic is made of, they tear it.

The Orel left the line, having damaged her steering engine; but she quickly set it right and resumed her place.

Just before the colours were lowered to-day a cloud appeared on the horizon, like smoke. They thought it was the Malay overtaking us. Our excitement appeared to have been needless. The Kamchatka complained of bad coal; she could not keep up sufficient steam, and began to drop astern. Her captain, by signal, asked permission to throw overboard some 150 tons of bad coal. The admiral, seeing in the fall of steam the work of some evil-disposed persons, refused, but gave permission to throw overboard the wrongdoer.

No sooner is the tale of the Kamchatka ended than the Suvaroff lies motionless, having damaged her steering engine. It was repaired somehow, and we proceeded.

December 12th.—A curious thing happened last night. They were communicating with the Kamchatka by signal. She hoisted a signal about her speed. The ship's signalmen interpreted the signal thus, "Do you see the torpedo-boats?" The officer of the watch sent down to wake all officers, and tell them that a torpedo-boat attack was imminent. Buglers and drummers were stationed to sound off quarters for action. There was general alarm.

A strong wind is beginning to blow. I hope it will not turn into a gale again, as it does not bring much joy. When you are ashore you pay no attention to the weather, whereas now you attentively follow its strength and direction. If nothing happens, there are four days' journey left to our anchorage in Madagascar. Up to the present we have come quicker than was intended. The storm on the eighth of the month helped us. At Madagascar the cruiser Kuban will probably join the fleet. She left Russia after we did. She outstripped us, and we have not yet seen her.

Probably at that island we shall be joined by the ships going by the Suez Canal. The weather is apparently about to get worse. The waves are again increasing. In the Atlantic it is calm; in the Indian Ocean it is always boisterous. They say that from Madagascar on it will be quieter. God grant it! It is impossible even for a minute to open one's port to let fresh air into the cabin. The artificial ventilation is very feeble.

December 13th.—Rain has fallen all to-day. The transport Meteor for some reason began to drop astern. (She is carrying fresh water. Although they distil water in the battleships and cruisers, she is nevertheless sometimes of assistance. She usually provides the transports with water.) Like all the other ships, she complains of the bad coal, with which it is difficult to keep up a sufficient quantity of steam for the boilers.

A storm has begun; the wind has suddenly freshened. Some say that this is a local squall, others that it is a cyclone. It is especially awkward for ships to get into a cyclone if they happen to be in its centre. Formerly sailing-ships that were caught in the centre of a cyclone seldom escaped. No doubt it is not so dangerous for steamships; yet, all the same, it may cause discomfort enough.

To-night is very dark. Black clouds stretch over the sky. The storm sometimes moves away, sometimes approaches us.

December 14th.—It was a cyclone yesterday; it only caught us with its circumference. Until one o'clock I was on deck. We are now passing along the eastern shore of Madagascar, and about thirty miles from it. The shore is clearly seen with the naked eye. It is high and mountainous. Just before twelve o'clock a steam-pipe burst in the stokehold of the Suvaroff. The steam whistled and began to pour into the stokehold. The men were nearly scalded. Some of them fled into the bunker, and shut the door behind them with the aid of a stoker, who remained in the stokehold and found a means of saving himself another way.

December 16th.—Off the island of St. Mary.

They have brought news from the shore. Ay! such news that the remembrance of it is nauseating. All the ships at Port Arthur are destroyed. The Gromoboy (Thunderer) has struck on the rocks. Kuropatkin sits tight at Mukden and organises parades. A third deep-sea fleet is leaving, or preparing to leave, Libau. Can this be true? What is all this? Are they joking, or have they quite lost their heads? You cannot imagine how mortifying it is. Everywhere are failures, corruption, stupidity, and mistakes. No doubt you, living in Petersburg, have heard all gradually. It all falls on us as a sudden blow. Involuntarily you are overwhelmed with horror. There is not one bright spot; all around is hopeless darkness.

Yes, our affairs are bad, very bad!

The steamer Roland is going to the town of Tamatave, which is about a hundred versts from our anchorage. The hospital-ship Orel arrived from Capetown and brought newspapers. The officers of the Orel say that in the streets of Capetown you constantly hear Russian spoken; that is, by Jews from Russia. There are some thirteen and a half thousands of them. Many of them have fled from Russia in order to escape their military obligations. The Jews so besieged the Orel, wishing to look over her, that at last the police had to drive them away from the ship.

December 17th.—The Roland, when coming out of Tamatave, signalled that the Malay was coming in. A schooner flying the Swiss flag has arrived here—schooner of a country where there is no sea!

The Malay has arrived. It does not do to believe all the news from the fleet. For instance, to-day a telegram was sent vi Tamatave, saying we had coaled near Durban. Nothing of the kind occurred. It was telegraphed to alarm the English and compel them to institute an inquiry. In one word, to make them show that they had not broken their neutrality.

The Orel brought the captain of the Suvaroff the Novoe Vremya (New Times) and Birgevya Viedomosti (Bourse News) from Capetown. How eagerly we read them!

Our fleet lies in the strait between the islands of Madagascar and St. Mary. To-day we were informed from St. Mary that two ships were lying on the other side. Was it from these ships we received signals? They suppose them to be Japanese cruisers, and fear for the Roland. She has not returned. If there are Japanese cruisers here they might easily catch her and send her to the bottom.

It is very probable that the ships coming vi Suez are lying in the Mozambique Channel, off Madagascar (near the western shore). As yet we have no news of them.

December 18th.—To-day the admiral and several officers of his staff went to the island of St. Mary. I did not want to go, so did not take advantage of the opportunity. The steamer Esperanza, which is bringing provisions for the fleet, has not yet arrived. She had to call at Capetown, and then follow us here. Perhaps we shall remain off the island here for a prolonged time. Evidently the term of our stay depends on the answer to the telegram sent to Petersburg.

To-morrow a steamer arrives (French), and leaves on the 21st, taking the mails.

The Roland has not yet returned. Where the rest of the ships are is not known.

The question of the return to Russia of the Malay is definitely settled. She is to go to the Black Sea. Her stores will be taken in the other transports. She goes from here vi the Suez Canal, taking the sick and feeble from the fleet. That will be one burden the less.

December 19th.—I have been to St. Mary to-day. The trip began by our scarcely reaching the shore. It was rough, and a head sea began to pour over the cutter. I was wet through, and cursed myself for coming.

The scenery here is very little different from Gaboon and Dakar. There is the same rich tropical growth. The types of inhabitants are different. The people here dress more than those at Gaboon, and appear well built. The population does not enjoy the confidence of the French, and the soldiers are taken from another place. Not long ago the natives killed two European officers in Madagascar. When our fleet arrived, they thought we had come to punish them for the murders, and several settlements ran away. St. Mary is a Sagalien for Madagascar. There are two prisons—one for political offenders, the other for capital offenders. What strikes one generally about the negroes is their gait. They walk holding themselves upright.

I wandered about on shore, was in the village, and looked into the church (Roman Catholic). It is the new year to-day, according to the New Style. The population are dressed in their holiday clothes. I bought six very pretty shells in the village for a franc. Strolling along the beach I collected fifty shells—one large one of six to eight inches diameter. My walk along the beach was poisoned by anticipation of having to row back to the ship, which, with the others, lies very far from the shore.

I went on board the ship, and there was a surprise for me—to go to the Esperanza, which had only just arrived. The weather had already grown much rougher. Two Frenchmen have come aboard the Suvaroff, and they cannot get ashore; they will have to spend the night here. The sailors from their boat are negroes, and have been sent to sleep with the crew, whose chance guests afford them amusement.

In the morning the Roland arrived, and brought the news that they had seen a suspicious schooner and a destroyer (Japanese). They saw Admiral Folkersham's fleet (which came by Suez) had gone to Nosi Be. No answer had been received at Tamatave from Petersburg. A French steamer will bring us the answer to-morrow. At Tamatave the French gave our officers a friendly reception. On the occasion of the arrival of the Russian fleet they even printed the menus with the double-headed eagle and our flags.

December 20th.—I was called early this morning. I have to go to the Esperanza again. I am wet through, and have to change my clothes and boots. It is a good thing that those I wore yesterday have dried. The Frenchmen have gone and taken with them the letters and telegrams to give to the steamer. I missed the dispatch of letters owing to the trip to the Esperanza.

Our fleet will soon shift its anchorage. We shall hardly go to Nosi Be. It is awkward to lie there, and the bay is shallow for battleships and also for transports. The refrigerator in the Esperanza, which cools the air in the holds where the meat is stowed, is damaged. This is unfortunate; the meat will go bad, and we shall have to feed on salt meat.

At four o'clock the steamer Pernosbucco arrived here; she brought no news from Petersburg. At seven she left for Diego Suarez. To-morrow we get up anchor and go north to some bay.

A stoker died on board the Oslyabya; he was buried at five o'clock to-day. The Oslyabya left the line, half-masted her colours, fired her guns (a salute), and committed the body to the sea. During this ceremony the officers and crews of all the ships stood at "attention," and where there were bands they played "Kol Slaven."[4]

To-day the wireless station received some signals, evidently sent from a great distance. None of the ships could decipher them—it was not known, even, in what language they were written. To-morrow I shall learn whether it was not one of our newly arrived ships that signalled.

December 21st.—In the bay of Tang-tang.

This morning we weighed and shifted from St. Mary nearer to Madagascar, in the bay of Tang-tang. It is better protected than where we were lying.

The guns are ready at any minute to commence firing. In all corners of the ship are men talking in undertones. They anxiously scan the horizon. The outlines of the nearest ships stand out in black silhouettes. At the sides the torpedo-nets are rocked by the waves. The searchlights are ready to instantly illuminate all around. The tension is felt, though there is absolute stillness. Every one is chilled by fearful anticipation.

December 22nd.—To-day the cruiser Kuban is expected to arrive, and to-morrow the squadron that came vi Suez.

In the English newspapers there is an announcement that Russia has ordered thirty ships of various kinds in Germany and Italy.

Those undeciphered signals which our wireless stations received have been made out by some one in the Nachimoff. The signal was Japanese. It stated that "the Russian fleet is lying without lights off the island of St. Mary." To-day a French officer commanding some local troops arrived, and spent the night on board the Suvaroff. The torpedo-nets were again got out; the crews were at their guns; steam and mining cutters lay near their ships, one-third of the officers were on deck by order, and a large number out of curiosity.

The night was rather dark—half the sky was covered with clouds. Occasionally sparks of light glimmer here and there. Some one is signalling. A light flashes on shore; it is answered from the sea. The Aurora reports that she saw six lights astern of her. I myself saw four out at sea and one on shore. What will to-night bring us? An attack must be expected. Everything is so unusual. All lights are hidden. At dawn a cruiser is leaving with secret orders, apparently for the colliers.

December 23rd.—The Malay, which remained at our former anchorage, has not yet reached the fleet. The cruisers have gone. The Roland has not yet returned. The Kuban is not here, nor the squadron from Suez. To-night there was a long story from the Esperanza, which is cruising under the French flag and has a French crew. The crew, not liking to lie at anchor without lights during the night, threatened the captain. These brave Frenchmen feared an attack. The Esperanza has now been sent away somewhere. A collier arrived bringing some information, thanks to which we shall leave here to-morrow—whither I do not yet know.

Evening.—The Kuban, it appears, is lying at Diego Suarez, and the ships from Suez at Nosi Be, where we are also going to-morrow.

December 24th.—Port Arthur has surrendered. What more can be said?

On the way to Nosi Be from Tang-tang.

The sad news of the surrender of Port Arthur was brought by the Roland. She arrived to-day.

On the 24th the cruiser Svietlana and the torpedo-boats Biedovy and Bodry joined the fleet. The latter damaged her engines, and was at once taken in tow by the Roland. The same day we met two colliers. They were ordered to go to Nosi Be. On the 25th the Bodry reported that she had very little coal. The fleet stopped, and the Bodry took coal from the Anadir, going alongside her.

It is a good thing it was calm, and this could be done without risk of damage. Yesterday there was mass and prayers. It is really Christmas. After mass the admiral made a short but impressive speech to the crew. All the ships saluted according to regulation. They fired thirty-one guns.

In the evening the Borodino reported by semaphore that shortly before sunset four large warships were visible from her masts, steaming in line ahead. Afterwards three of the ships turned and disappeared. Lights were burning on the remaining ship. After a short time, they made out that this ship, having put out her lights, altered course and also disappeared. There is evidence that there are Japanese warships off Madagascar. The night passed in alarms. Some lights were visible away from our course. Attacks were feared. Instructions were given to the battleships and transports what to do during an attack.

The cruiser Svietlana was sent to the squadron lying in Nosi Be.

I could not sleep from the closeness in my cabin. Until 6 a.m. I slept in my clothes on a sofa in the wardroom. At 6 I went back to my cabin and opened the port. The sea wetted the table and fell on to the bed, but that afforded nothing but pleasure. It does not even wake you.

This morning we got into communication by wireless with the Svietlana, which is ahead of the fleet, while she was in communication with the squadron at Nosi Be. It appears that our cruisers Aurora, Donskoi, and Nachimoff are lying there. Yesterday it was supposed that the ships seen in line ahead were these cruisers and the Kuban, which joined them from Diego Suarez. Now this supposition falls to the ground.

We are going by a spot seldom explored and not sounded. Occasionally shallow places are shown on the chart, and the fairway along which we are steaming is very narrow; the depth is unknown—it has not been measured. We may go aground.

To-day I finished writing those reports about the battleships Borodino, Orel, Imperator Alexander III., and Kniaz Suvaroff, which I began long ago. I must touch them up a little and send them to Petersburg. Many will be dissatisfied with them, and probably I shall make enemies for myself. No matter. Having once decided on it, I must carry it out—the more so as it appears to me the remarks will be very useful.

At seven o'clock the torpedo-boat Buiny (Boisterous) approached, coming from Nosi Be. All is well there. The torpedo-boat offered to escort the hospital-ship Orel to the anchorage. At present our fleet is thirty miles from the anchorage. Owing to the dangerous entrance, we shall remain at sea all night, and go in to-morrow morning. Tossing on the sea all night with the transports is not without danger.

December 27th.—The fleet is steaming slowly, turning constantly in order not to be too far off Nosi Be. At 2 p.m. the Roland hoisted a signal, "The crew have mutinied." The torpedo-boat Biedovy was ordered to reduce the mutineers to submission, and if necessary to shoot them. The torpedo-boat, with such full powers, soon re-established order. It appeared that the stokers did not wish to take the place of two sick comrades, and hence the whole story.

I hardly slept all night. Went to bed at four and got up at seven. We are approaching our anchorage. What news awaits us? After the destruction of the fleet and the fall of Port Arthur, affairs are radically changed. There is now no need for haste.

There are three courses open to our fleet—either to continue the voyage to the East, to remain for an indefinite time in some place in the expectation that its presence will be necessary on the coast of Japan, or to return to Russia. If we are obliged to remain somewhere and wait, will the admiral remain in the fleet? And if he goes, what fate may his staff expect?

I had just sat down and busied myself when I heard the sound of my beloved Little Russian march. I looked out of my port and saw we had arrived at Nosi Be. I ran on deck and saw a wonderful picture. The bay, the calm sea, hills all round—two of the latter especially, covered with a thick wood, stand at the entrance opposite each other. The sun is scorching. In the bay are the remains of the naval might of our unfortunate fatherland. The sounds of the march re-echo. We have rejoined all the ships that we parted from at Tangier more than two months ago. Here are all that are left to Russia. Can it be that they will be ingloriously and ignominiously destroyed? The fleet is still strong enough, but is it efficient? There were more ships, and they are battered to pieces or lie at the bottom of the sea. Can it be that our fleet will complete the great tragedy of the ruin of an immense navy?

The meeting of our admiral and Admiral Folkersham was very hearty. They embraced. You cannot recognise the men in the boats of Admiral Folkersham's division. They are all in sun helmets, whereas our men have put neck-covers on their caps. Admirals Folkersham and Enquist were invited to lunch. They learnt the news. All are sad.

There is neither telegraph nor post here. Torpedo-boats go to Mayung (Mojanga) in order to send the mails and telegrams. It is about 200 versts from here. There are few Europeans. We hear occasional newspaper reports which we do not know how to believe. One is perfectly terrible. Port Arthur surrendered with a garrison of more than 40,000 men, among whom were 1,000 officers. It is simply incredible! The triumph of the Japanese is complete; they will raise our ships that were sunk in Port Arthur harbour, and leaving them their former names, will fight in them against us.

Admiral Folkersham says there are no mails or letters from Russia. He telegraphed twice to our staff requesting them to send on letters. They did not even reply. What is it to them, sitting snugly in Petersburg, that more than 850 officers alone have no news from home for two months? It is all the same to them! They are all right, and as regards others it is not their business.

They do not count on taking the transports Gortchakoff and Malay any further, but will send them to Russia from here. It is said that, according to the first order, the fleet is to leave Madagascar on January 1st. The captain of the torpedo-boat Buiny has come. There are several breakages and defects in this boat. I shall have to go to-morrow morning and make arrangements for their repair.

We have a tremendous voyage before us—across the Indian Ocean, calling nowhere. Under favourable conditions we shall get to the East Indian Archipelago in twenty days, and then Japan is quite close. What will it be? Can the fate of the Port Arthur fleet await us? It is said that Nosi Be is extraordinarily like the harbour of Nagasaki. It is not possible to remain in one's cabin. The deck is so hot that you can feel the heat through the soles of your boots.

The cyclone that overtook us on the way to Madagascar apparently caused much damage in this island. Thank God that we came happily out of it. The cruise in the ships that came vi Suez was much easier than ours. They called at well-constructed ports. The voyage was shorter. Officers and men were frequently allowed ashore. Our fleet accomplished a tremendous voyage, calling at a few deserted bays. The crew were not allowed on shore, and the officers seldom had permission to land. It is said permission to land will be given to-morrow. It does not attract me; the shore is wild and deserted.

To-night I can sleep with my port open. I shall be able to breathe. I must go to bed early. It is already late, and to-morrow I must get up early, and dash round the ships. At present there are few damages. Perhaps they have not been able to report them. I shall see to-morrow.