Sir Harry Parkes at once asked for an appointment to see the Shōgun on the following day, which was declined; but hearing that M. Roches was to be received, our chief was not to be held; he insisted upon making his way in, with Satow and me—to the outspoken disgust of the French colleague—and the two ministers were received together—not without some recriminations and angry words between them. The Shōgun, or rather ex-Shōgun, as he now was, seemed greatly depressed; he was a very different man from the handsome, proud noble who had received us with so much dignity in the preceding May. The many troubles, sorrows and indignities which he had undergone were written in his face. He repeated the old story of his having left Kiōto from patriotic motives, in order to avoid civil war, which would be waged almost in the sacred presence of the Emperor. He said that he should remain in Ōsaka, but did not know whether he would be attacked. As to the existing order of things, he said that the Mikado nominally ruled, but that Kiōto was occupied by an unruly set of men, who did nothing but quarrel among themselves and had no notion of governing. The two ministers applauded his action—the Frenchman in fulsome language, Sir Harry in more measured terms. There was obviously nothing much to be drawn from him, and as he complained of feeling tired, the rather barren conference came to an end. That evening Sir Henry Keppel, who, with my old friend, his flag lieutenant (now Admiral Sir Henry Stephenson, Black Rod), and that grand sailor and gallant gentleman, Captain Chandos Scudamore Stanhope, of H.M.S. _Ocean_,[3] was on shore, insisted on my going off with him to Hiōgo to sleep on board the _Rodney_, and hear the band play. It was blowing great guns, and I felt pretty certain that the perfidious bar which I knew only too well would be dangerous if not impassable. I told this to the Admiral, but he pooh-poohed the objections of a mere landsman, and said that I “did not know what a steam-launch could do.” So off we went with a second boat in tow. Darkness set in, and by the time we reached the mouth of the river it was black night. The wind was howling like Bedlam; the sea was terrific; now and then there was a rift in the clouds, and we could see the mockery of the wicked moon shining luridly through the ugly green waves which towered over us, hungry to swallow us up; we expected to go under any minute.