The ladies' committee of the "Society to help the Wounded" sent the admiral the ikon of St. George "the Victorious," and fifty small crosses for the officers and crew. I received a cross and hung it to a chain with my own. It is very pretty, and made of mother-of-pearl. The rainy season, which should have begun a fortnight ago, was late. It has now begun--another pleasure for us. Many of the wardroom tumblers are broken. They cannot be bought here. Jam-pots are used instead. It is difficult to imagine how the local traders live. They have raised all prices considerably, and continue to raise them. The provision-ship _Esperanza_ will no longer accompany the fleet. I wanted to go ashore at 6 a.m. to-morrow with some one, to explore the interior of the island; but it is impossible. An inquiry is to be held in the _Malay_ to survey the coal left in her. I have to take a part in this inquiry. Again there are rumours that the fleet will leave here on the 11th. I think this is only supposition. The French mail-steamer leaves for Europe on the 9th. Perhaps this letter will be the last that will go in her. There will then be a break in my letters. Steamers do not often call here--only once or twice a month. Some chameleons were brought on board, and have now spread all over the ship. They are harmless; but to me, at all events, they are repulsive. Some fellows take them in their hands and allow them to crawl over their heads and faces. _January 8th._--Since 4 a.m. there has been such a downpour, difficult to imagine if you have not seen it. Many men, desiring to wash in fresh water, took advantage of the rain to go on deck with a piece of soap and wash themselves. At this blessed moment I have to go to the inquiry in the _Malay_. While I was standing at a closed hatchway on deck, waiting for the captain of the _Malay_, a man was wandering about in white uniform, barefooted and capless. I paid no attention to him. Suddenly he approached me and stretched out his hand. I hesitated, thinking he was a drunken sailor playing a joke. "I knew you very well long ago. I am Titoff," he said. Then I guessed that this was the mad ensign from the battleship _Orel_. I shook hands with him, and said that I had not recognised him because he had grown a beard, although in deed it was only of two or three days' growth. He began to laugh, asked me if I feared Death, and had I seen him; and, pointing all round, he said, "This is all Russia," etc. They were not very pleasant minutes that I spent in his company. It was sad to see him. He walks about the dirty deck half undressed. He does what he likes. He may fall overboard, or fall down a hatchway, or slip from a ladder--no one looks after him. A melancholy spectacle!