Up flew our flag and pennant. The steamer ran up the German flag. The crew laid aloft into the shrouds, and three cheers rang from deck to deck. As usual, our men were dressed in the manner customary in the Garden of Eden, a costume which necessity had forced upon them. The men of the _Choising_ confided to us later that they were blank with astonishment when suddenly, out of the fog, emerged a schooner, the shrouds of which were filled with naked forms. Because of the heavy seas running, an immediate transfer to the _Choising_ was not possible. As better weather had prevailed in the region to the south, from which we had come, I signaled the _Choising_ to follow the _Ayesha_. But, instead of growing better, the weather grew steadily worse on the following day, until, during the course of the night, it developed into a heavy storm. The _Ayesha's_ sails were close reefed, and, it must be said, she behaved well. Not one of the heavy combers broke over her; she rode them like a duck. Of course, the inside of the ship was as wet as the outside, for the spray dashed over the deck without intermission. At daybreak the _Choising_, which is a ship of 1700 tonnage, signaled by flag: "On account of the storm and heavy seas I cannot remain here." I therefore decided to run in under the lee of the land, so as to make the transfer there, and accordingly, signaled another place of meeting to the _Choising_. The two ships separated again, as I, in my sailing vessel, could not steer the same course that the steamer took. The next night was the worst that we experienced on the _Ayesha_. All night long the tempest raged. Although aware of our proximity to the islands, we did not know just where we were. Both the wind and the current threatened to dash us against the reefs. The night was so black that we could not see anything. If, under these conditions, we should get too near the shore, both ship and crew were doomed. Even the small rags of sails, closely reefed as they were, which we still carried, were almost too much. Towards morning an especially fierce squall set in. It was too much for our rotten old sails. We heard a sharp crack, and then another,--our fore-sail and our staysail had torn away from their bolt ropes, and only a few small rags were left whipping in the wind. The departing fore-sail took with it a third sail, the fore staysail, so that we lost all our forward canvas. To set a spare sail was quite impossible at the time, both on account of the darkness and of the heavy running seas. We had to lay to, therefore, with only the after-sails, and trust to luck to keep away from the surf.