We were forty-three on board, all told, as will be seen by reference to the list I have given.  We had with us, besides, two dogs, three birds, and a charming Persian kitten belonging to the baby.  The kitten soon disappeared, and it was feared she must have gone overboard down the hawse pipe.  There was a faint hope, however, that she might have been packed away with the new sails, which had been stowed in a great hurry the day before.  Unhappily she was never found again, and the children were inconsolable until they discovered, at Torquay, an effective substitute for ‘Lily.’

The Channel was tolerably smooth outside the Isle of Wight, and during the afternoon we were able to hold on our course direct for Ushant.  After midnight, however, the wind worked gradually round to the W.S.W., and blew directly in our teeth.  A terribly heavy sea got up; and, as we were making little or no progress, it was decided to put in to Torquay or Dartmouth, and there await a change.  We anchored in Torbay, about half a mile from the pier, at 8.30 a.m., and soon afterwards went ashore to bathe.  We found, however, that the high rocks which surround the snug little bathing cove made the water as cold as ice.

Nothing more having been heard of our poor little kitten, we can only conclude that she has gone overboard.  Just as we were leaving the railway-station, however, we saw a small white kitten with a blue ribbon round its neck; and all the children at once exclaimed, ‘There’s our Lily!’ We made inquiries, and found that it belonged to the young woman at the refreshment room, who, after some demur, allowed us to take it away with us, in compliance with Muriel’s anxious wish, expressed on her face.

About ten o’clock we got under way, but lay-to for breakfast.  We then had a regular beat of it down Channel—­everybody being ill.  We formed a melancholy-looking little row down the lee side of the ship, though I must say that we were quite as cheery as might have been expected under the circumstances.  It was bright and sunny overhead, which made things more bearable.

Sunday, July 9th.—­A calm at 2 a.m.  Orders were given to get up steam; but the new coals from Chatham were slow to light, though good to keep up steam when once fairly kindled.  For four long hours, therefore, we lolloped about in the trough of a heavy sea, the sails flapping as the vessel rolled.  By the time the steam was up so was the breeze—­a contrary one, of course.  We accordingly steamed and sailed all day, taking more water on board, though not really in any great quantity, than I had ever seen the good ship do before.  She carries a larger supply of coal and other stores than usual, and no doubt the square yards on the foremast make her pitch more heavily.  We were all very sorry for ourselves, and ‘church,’ postponed from eleven until four o’clock, brought together but a small congregation.