The steamer on which I felt most at home was the Columbia, a little British vessel built originally for river traffic in South China, but at this time running between Chefoo and Port Arthur.
On the evening of February 6 I was sitting in the cosy dining saloon of this vessel, telling Mr. Wright, the chief officer, how I had to go some time or other to Chefoo in order to charter a steamer for the New York Herald. That day I had tried to charter a launch from Baron Ginsberg, the great Jewish capitalist, whose timber concessions on the Yalu had been the last straw on the back of Japan's patience, and the Baron had tried to sell me a launch which would be pretty sure to sink beneath me before it had got half way across. I therefore said that I had better go to Chefoo, whereupon Mr. Wright said, " Why not come with us to-night? We're sailing at eleven, and there are no other passengers. Besides, there's no quarantine now, so that you'll have no trouble getting back." Finding that I had an hour to spare, I went to my lodgings, put a few shirts into a little carpet - bag, and bade a hasty good-bye to Captain Yanchivetsky and his wife, telling them that I would be back on the morning of the 8th. Little did I think that at that moment diplomatic relations between Russia and Japan had been severed, that Kurino had left St. Petersburg, and that Togo had left Saseho.