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The diary of a Russian lady

Chapter 99: CHAPTER XCVII ADEN
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About This Book

A woman records personal recollections and travel memoirs that move from early childhood and society life through marriage and wartime episodes to long tours across Europe, the Caucasus, Siberia, North America and East and Southeast Asia. The narrative prioritizes vivid impressions of places, social scenes, and notable persons, offering character sketches and descriptive travel writing rather than political analysis. Interwoven are accounts of colonial outposts, frontier life along the Amur, and the demands of public service, all presented with candid, observant detail and a charitable impulse behind publication.

CHAPTER XCVII
ADEN

July 2nd.—Early in the morning we came in view of Aden. Our boat sets off at six o’clock in the evening, and we had plenty of time to visit the town. We landed at Steamer Point and found ourselves in a territory over which the British flag flies. We took a carriage with a negro coachman, and drove to see the cisterns, following a beautifully kept road. At a steep turning we met a long caravan of camels. To jump out of the carriage was the affair of a minute for me. I continued the ascent trudging under a broiling sun, spoiling my complexion, foot-sore and ill-tempered. A most unpleasant walk it was; the trees were too thin to give any shade, the ground was parched and cracked and scorching hot, one could easily bake an egg in it.

When we were back at Aden, we had lunch at the Hotel d’ Europe. After our meal I went out to rest on the verandah, whilst Sergy visited the English Hospital, to which one of our recruits, who had fallen ill during the voyage, had been removed.

Towards five o’clock we were back on board, and left Aden at six. Before starting, one of our ship-officers standing on the deck got sunstroke.

The monsoon rages at this season in these parts. When we came into the open sea the long swell began to lift and toss the steamer like a cork. The passengers became immediately sea-sick and sought their berths. One of the cows on board broke her leg during the horrid rocking and had to be killed. I rolled my deck-chair into the corridor under a ventilator broken through the ceiling, which allowed me to overhear all the conversation which took place on the upper deck; the rolling was less here. Maria Michaelovna brought me some tea and a lot of nice things with it. Over my head, through the pipe of the ventilator, I heard the recruits conversing. Two men began to pick a quarrel, and nearly came to blows. Both of them were put under arrest. Whilst they were being led away, one of the quarrellers complained to the officer on duty that his antagonist, in an access of fury, had pricked him with a pin, and the other one defended himself, advancing that he had been pricked the first with a crust of bread!

The rolling of the ship drove my chair in all directions about the corridor. I was obliged to return to my cabin.

In the night the wind increased, and the anchor ran out with a rattle and a roar of cable. It was stifling in my cabin; I imprudently opened the porthole and an avalanche of water rushed in, threatening to drown me.

July 3rd.—The sea is the colour of ink, and I am ill, ill! ... Towards noon great black clouds came upon us rapidly and very soon the whole sky was covered, it was almost as dark as night; a heavy storm was coming on. The recruits are put down in the hold. The long menacing waves were advancing upon our ship like big mountains. Sounds of broken crockery are heard; two beautiful Chinese vases, standing on the side-board in the saloon, were thrown out on the floor and went to pieces.

Though we have six cows on board they cannot be milked for the rolling of the ship, and I had to drink my coffee without cream; it tasted like medicine to me.

July 4th.—A terrible night had followed. The ship rolled over fifty degrees from the perpendicular on each side. The situation was becoming more and more perilous. The shouts of the watch-officer mingled with the whistle of the quartermaster, and the shrieks of the siren were something awful. Hearing a commotion above, shouting and rushing footsteps, I thought we were going to sink. I dressed in a hurry and rushed to the staircase, where I met Sergy, who persuaded me to return to my cabin and lie down, but I felt it was quite useless to try to sleep.

July 5th.—I passed again the whole of the night in the corridor; Maria Michaelovna followed my example and came up with her pillow and coverlet, and slipped into the narrow space between me and my maid. Towards noon the direction of the wind changed, we are out of the cyclone centre.

July 6th, 7th.—The temperature all these days is something awful. We are dying of thirst and all our provision of ice on board has melted.

A bird which followed our boat all the way from Aden, rested this night on the main mast and was captured by the sailors who want to tame it.