We did not stay very long at the theatre, but were soon tearing back again through the streets to the Consulate.  These quick rides in a jinrikisha, especially at night, are very amusing.  You have the pleasure of going at a high speed, and yet, being on a level with the people, you can see much more of them and of their manners than would be possible in a carriage.

When we reached the Consulate we found the chief of the police of the foreign settlement waiting for the Consul, to inform him that Japanese soldiers were patrolling the town with fixed bayonets, alleging that information had been sent to the Governor that some of the rebels were in the hills at the back of the town, and might appear at any moment.  The ships-of-war were to be communicated with at once for the protection of the inhabitants.  They do not expect a general attack here, but seem to think the rebels’ plan is to creep up by degrees to Osaka, where the Mikado is shortly expected to stay, and take possession of his person and the imperial treasure at one blow.

When I got on board the ‘Sunbeam’ again, I found that steam was up and all was ready for starting; but the wind was still strong against us, and it was evidently necessary again to wait until four o’clock to-morrow morning.

We were rolling a good deal, and, coming along the engine-room passage, my foot slipped, a door banged to, and my thumb was caught in the hinge and terribly crushed.  Dressing it was a very painful affair, as the doctor had to ascertain whether the bone was broken, and I fainted during the operation.  At last I was carried to my cabin and put to bed, after taking a strong dose of chloral to soothe the agonising pain.

Thursday, February 15th.—­I wonder if anybody who has not experienced it can realise the stupefying, helpless sensation of being roused up from a sound sleep, in the middle of the night, on board ship, by the cry of ‘Fire!’ and finding oneself enveloped in a smoke so dense as to render everything invisible.

[Illustration:  The Yacht on Fire.]

At 2.30 a.m.  I was awakened by a great noise and a loud cry of ’The ship is on fire!’ followed by Mr. Bingham rushing into our cabin to arouse us.  At first I could hardly realise where we were, or what was happening, as I was half stupid with chloral, pain, and smoke, which was issuing from each side of the staircase in dense volumes.  My first thought was for the children, but I found they had not been forgotten.  Rolled up in blankets, they were already in transit to the deck-house.  In the meantime Mr. Bingham had drenched the flames with every available jug of water, and Tom had roused the crew, and made them screw the hose on to the pump.  They were afraid to open the hatches, to discover where the fire was, until the hose and extincteurs were ready to work, as they did not know whether or not the hold was on fire, and the whole ship might burst into a blaze the moment the air was admitted.