how the night must have sped with them and with the other poor wretches battened down in the hold.

There was no limit to the variety of the motion of the little tub adrift on the angered ocean. There is among sea-going passengers a difference of opinion as to whether pitching or rolling is the least bearable. We had both in succession, with a quite new and original motion, as if the vessel were trying to jump sideways over a yawning chasm, and, always failing, was pitched ruthlessly to the bottom of the abyss. Once the bows coming upon a roller were pitched so high that the vessel seemed literally standing on end.

There was a moment during which I distinctly felt it poised trembling in every plank, undecided whether, since it had come so far, it was worth while going back, and whether, on the whole, it would not be better to go over backwards as a rearing horse sometimes falls on its rider. I remember assisting at the deliberation without particularly caring how it ended. The force of habit prevailed, and the vessel righted herself, and by way of change began to roll.

Thus the night wore on, and thus in slightly modified degree the day was spent. I heard afterwards that the captain had vainly

tried to run for shelter into a little fishing port on the coast, but wind and sea proved too strong for him. He could not fetch the port, could only lie out with the engines at full pressure, driving the ship along at the rate of two miles an hour. The night continued light, whereby possibly catastrophe was averted. But what with the waves constantly washing over the steamer, and the spindrift blinding the look-out man, it was hard to see where we were going.

The young gentleman from Glasgow got up and went resolutely to his breakfast. I remained on the shelf, and spent quite a pleasant day, eating a pomello and reading Mr. Edmund Yates's "Land at Last." The cupboard, though a little close with the door shut, had some corresponding advantages. For example, you might, if you liked, having opened the door, step out of bed on to the dining-room table, an arrangement which I do not remember to have seen perfected even in the best-appointed houses in England. Short of that you might lie in bed, and, making a long arm, help yourself from the breakfasttable. Thus I obtained a woodcock on toast. It is well there was toast as there was singularly little woodcock.

The young gentleman from Glasgow ate

five, and then took some dubious compound labelled "jam." I never saw such a fellow for puddings, cakes, jams, and other unwholesome compounds. I believe that if the worst had come, and, struggling in the water, some one had thrown him a plank and a gooseberry tart, he would have gone for the gooseberry tart.

We were to have reached Yokkaichi at two o'clock. At noon we were still out in the open sea, and it was clear that if ever we reached Yokkaichi at all it would not be till after midnight. The wretched engineer had now gone round on a fresh tack, and was as despondent as he was yesterday hopeful. The gale had considerably abated, but it had left its mark upon the waters through which the little vessel floundered. The engineer, for our comfort, sent down word that the comparative quietude now prevalent would not last very long. A spit of land was sheltering us from the full wrath of the sea; but when we rounded the point, now within view, we should "have it all."

Under these circumstances it was better to stop on the shelf, where I felt no discomfort, except when the captain and officers came down to their meals. Then we were obliged to shut the cabin door. After waiting till we had rounded the point, and nothing particular

happening, we got up to dinner and did very well. The melancholy duck turned out excellent, and there were some more pale tarts for the young gentleman from Glasgow.

It was now announced that we should be at Yokkaichi at midnight, and the question arose whether we should stay on board another night or straightway go ashore. It was decided that we should sleep on the shelf once more, a prospect the less appalling since we had now got into smoother water, and by midnight the steamer would be at anchor in the bay.

This was a resolution we subsequently had occasion to regard with thankfulness. Ito undertook to go ashore as soon as the steamer had dropped anchor, and arrange for an early start in jinrikishas in the morning. I did not question Ito too closely about his experiences. They were, in truth, written upon his face, and in the pervading limpness of his bearing. Amongst the experiences crowded into his yet young life was a brief sojourn on an English man-of-war. He had, he believed, permanently gained his sea-legs on this cruise, and on boarding the steamer at Yokohama had assumed a certain rakish nautical bearing that was quite reassuring. One felt that if anything happened to the

VOL. II.

23

captain or the engineer it was well that Ito was on board. But there is no use in disguising the fact that Ito, like some other seasoned sailors, had been utterly routed during the storm, and he was now eager to go ashore at the first possible opportunity.

In the early morning, between one and two o'clock, I was awakened by a tremendous hubbub on deck. Men ran about wildly shouting. Half a dozen captains seemed giving orders at the same time. The noise lasted five or six minutes, when it ceased as suddenly as it had arisen, and a deep silence fell over the steamer, now at anchor in the bay. It was clear enough what all this meant. A fleet of sampans had come up to take off passengers, had clamorously got their fares, and had gone away. I turned over and went to sleep in the certainty that the faithful Ito would come off for us at six in the morning.

When I awaked it was already half-past six and Ito had not come. Whilst we were taking a cup of tea and a biscuit, a Japanese entered with profound bows and made a long speech. With the assistance of the Chinese cook we made out that Ito had sent him off to bring us ashore. This seemed strange, as Ito was not accustomed to delegate part of his duty to others. There was, however, no help