SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 2
At the first hint of dawn, I rowed over from the Azuma to the Daimyo to confer with the Commodore. It was plain we could not see this through on the yachts. For one thing, we hadn’t enough food; for another, conditions around us might become hazardous. The conclusion was inevitable: we should have to face facts and throw ourselves on the hospitality of the ships in port until we could be evacuated to some other port in Japan or the Far East or even America.