OUR WAY BACK TO KHABAROVSK VIA ODESSA
We left St. Petersburg on the 17th June, and are on our way for a second
tour around the world. This time we sail from Odessa on the _Orel_ a
boat belonging to the Volunteer Fleet, which will take us straight to
Vladivostock.
June 19th.—Towards noon we arrived at Odessa where I was happy to find my
mother, who had come from Moscow to see us off. We put up together at the
Hôtel de Londres.
June 20th.—This morning Sergy reviewed the recruits who are to sail with
us on the _Orel_.
June 21st.—At three o’clock in the afternoon we went on board the _Orel_
our new dwelling for many days. I took the best place I could find at the
side of the ship to see the last of Russia and mother, with whom I parted
shedding abundant tears. After the last embraces we separated, our boat
gave the third whistle, and slowly we moved away from the dense crowd
that covered the wharf. I sent my good-byes to mother, waving wildly my
handkerchief to her. I saw the shore separating us, and knew that we
couldn’t meet for a very long time.
We are in the open sea, the wind is favourable, the sails are up, and our
boat advances rapidly.
The _Orel_ had on board 1300 recruits and 280 first-class passengers,
Russian officers for the most part, going out to serve in Siberia,
accompanied by their families. We occupy one of the largest state-cabins,
with mirrors, carpets, electric light, and electric ventilators, which
make, it is true, more noise than ventilation.
We sit down to meals four times a day. At nine o’clock breakfast, at
one—tiffin, at four—tea, at seven—dinner. The food is good, but a trifle
heavy for the tropics. To-day after dinner, the officer upon duty came
up to Sergy to show him the log-book in which all the incidents of the
day are noted. At nine o’clock precisely the sailors sang the evening
prayers, after which all the passengers went to bed.
June 22nd.—We are on the Black Sea, between sky and water, with no land
in view. The weather is beautiful, but the ship rolls dreadfully all
the same. I try to brave sea-sickness, and do needlework, whilst Maria
Michaelovna reads aloud to me.
June 23rd.—At ten o’clock in the morning we enter the Bosporus and anchor
in the Golden Horn. Sergy with all his companions and almost all the
passengers had landed in order to stroll about Constantinople. I was
tired of sight-seeing and lessons of history, and was the only one of our
party who remained on board. At eight o’clock in the evening the _Orel_
weighed anchor. To-day is Saturday, and our ship’s priest performed
vespers on the lower deck.
June 24th.—To-day we passed the Dardanelles and entered the Archipelago,
and found ourselves near the point where ancient Troy stood.
June 25th.—It is getting hotter and hotter. My hair is out of curl, but
never mind; this awful heat takes away all attempt at coquetry. A tent
has been spread on deck, under which we take our repasts, protected from
the rays of the scorching sun. We have given to this tent the poetical
name of “Villa Borghese.” During our dinner the recruits danced a wild
jig on the deck, to the accompaniment of five violins, a tambourine and
a blow-pipe. One of the men began to whistle artistically, imitating the
nightingale, whilst another recruit gambolled and turned somersaults,
representing a trained monkey. It is pleasant to see the good relations
between the recruits and the chief of their battalion, surnamed by his
men “Captain Tempest,” on account of his fiery temper. He raged and
stormed a great deal, but was adored by the recruits, notwithstanding his
rough tongue.