As the Danzig disappeared we went below.  “I hoped to go home at the end of this voyage,” said the captain as we seated around his table; “but we must now remain in the Pacific.  War has come and may give us glory or the grave; possibly both.”

For an hour we discussed the intelligence and the probabilities of its truth.  As we separated, Captain Lund repeated with emphasis his opinion that the news was false.

“I do not believe it,” said he; “but I must prepare for any emergency.”

In the wardroom the officers were exultant over the prospect of promotion and prize money.  The next day the men were exercised at the guns, and for the rest of the voyage they could not complain of ennui.  The deck was cleared of all superfluous rubbish, and we were ready for a battle.  The shotted case for the signal books was made ready, and other little preparations attended to.  I seemed carried back to my days of war, and had vivid recollections of being stormed at with shot and shell.

From Ohotsk to the mouth of the Amoor is a direct course of about four hundred miles.  A light draught steamer would have made short work of it, but we drew too much water to enter the northern passage.  So we were forced to sail through La Perouse Straits and up the Gulf of Tartary to De Castries Bay.  The voyage was more than twelve hundred miles in length, and had several turnings.  It was like going from New York to Philadelphia through Harrisburg, or from Paris to London through Brussels and Edinboro’.

A good wind came to our relief and took us rapidly through La Perouse straits.  There is a high rock in the middle of the passage covered with sea-lions, like those near San Francisco.  In nearly all weather the roaring of these creatures can be heard, and is a very good substitute for a fog-bell.  I am not aware that any government allows a subsidy to the sea-lions.

We saw the northern coast of Japan and the southern end of Sakhalin, both faint and shadowy in the fog and distance.  The wind freshened to a gale, and we made twelve knots an hour under double reefed mainsails and topsails.  In the narrow straits we escaped the heavy waves encountered at sea in a similar breeze.  Turning at right angles in the Gulf of Tartary, we began to roll until walking was no easy matter.  The wind abated so that by night we shook out our reefs and spread the royals and to’gallant sails to keep up our speed.

As we approached De Castries the question of war was again discussed.

“If I find only one French ship there,” said the captain, “I shall proceed.  If there are two I cannot fight them, and must run to San Francisco or some other neutral port.”

Just then San Francisco was the last place I desired to visit, but I knew I must abide the fortunes of war.  We talked of the possibility of convincing a French captain that we were engaged in an international enterprise, and therefore not subject to capture.  Anossoff joined me in arranging a plan to cover contingencies.