I often pass through bad moments. One grieves, rages, censures, criticises, and condemns everything. Our army is acting independently, and the fleet does not combine with the movements of the army. The self-same fleet is split into little pieces, which do not act in conformity with the movements of the others. Three (or now, perhaps, two) ships are doing something, or more probably are lying at Vladivostok. Our fleet is moving east, and the third remains behind somewhere (where we do not know); and they are collecting some remnants at Cronstadt and Libau. All these parts do not know what the others are doing. Can there be success under these conditions? I think that there are many disorders in the army. There is no method or organisation anywhere. Among our enemies all is worked out, foreseen, and guessed beforehand. They conduct war on a scientific programme. Is success likely to be on our side? No. Of course, anything might happen. We might win, but it would only be by chance. With us it is the old system called "Perhaps," and the old game of trusting to luck. Everything is done anyhow. Not without reason some one remarked that the "apes were righting the anyhows." To do him justice, it would be difficult to say a worse or a truer thing. The _Oleg_ is steaming astern, and other cruisers are ahead and abeam of the fleet. All the battleships, torpedo-boats, and transports occupy the centre. _March 9th_ (8 a.m.).--Six times to-day the tow-ropes of torpedo-boats have carried away. This is rather often. The _Dimitry Donskoi_ reports that at night she saw lights of three ships, which were communicating with searchlight flashes, and were going the same course as ourselves. Another sailor has died in the _Oslyabya_. He will be buried at sea. He died the day before yesterday, but the coaling prevented his body being committed to the deep yesterday. There are frequent deaths in the _Oslyabya_, and most of them occur when the fleet is under way. The admiral always had weak nerves, and now especially so. He sleeps very little, is worried, and gets beside himself at every trifle. Probably he will not hold out to the end. 11 p.m.--We are going desperately slowly. So far we have made a thousand miles. If we go by one course there will be 2,800 miles left, and by another 2,500. This means we have to toss on the sea for fifteen or twenty days, if nothing happens. At every step there are breakages and damages. This evening the _Sissoi_ damaged first her rudder and then her machinery. The tow-ropes of the torpedo-boats break like threads. The _Buistry_ has again distinguished herself. She has broken a gun-platform. Soon there will be nothing to break in her. In the wardroom they reckon that we have 4,400 miles to do in thirty-four days. Our provisions are finished, and we shall have to take to salt provisions (horrid filth). They make jokes, selecting which of the officers shall be eaten first.