f Tsugaru, a
mysterious bark, without name or papers, peopled only by Chinese of
the coolie class, and bearing evident marks of foul play. From
indications she was supposed to be American, and our ship, being the
most immediately available, was ordered up to investigate; leaving
Nagasaki October 24, 1868. Our course took us over the ground which
has since become historic by the destruction of Rodjestvensky's fleet,
as well as by other incidents of the Russo-Japanese war; and the
weather we had, both going and returning, would justify the anxiety
said to have been felt by the Japanese naval authorities, that Port
Arthur should be taken before the winter set in. Like men, ships must
do their work at whatever cost; but like men also, and perhaps even
more, they should be spared needless strain, especially if they be
few. A sick ship needs usually more time for recovery than a sick man.

Our orders directed a stop at a port called Niigata, on the west coast
of Nippon. We must have communicated, for I thence despatched a
letter; but at the time of our arrival a furious northwest gale was
blowing, dead on shore. The ship, therefore, ran under a largish
island called Sado, which much to our convenience lies a few miles to
sea-ward of Niigata, and there anchored; quietly enough as to wind,
though gusty willy-waws descending from the cliffs and swishing the
water in petty whirlwinds testified to the commotion outside. We had
quite the same experience returning to Shanghai; but at that time in
mid-sea, where the _Iroquois_, powerless as to steam, but otherwise as
much at home as the sea-fowl, rode it out gleefully, though I admit
not luxuriously to flesh and muscles.

On November 1st we reached Hakodate, where our captain and consul,
aided by the Japanese authorities, proceeded at once with their
investigation. The strange vessel was in as distressed condition,
almost, as that of the Ancient Mariner when he drew near "his own
countree:" sails gone, rigging flying loose, one of her topgallant
masts, if I remember right, snapped in two, and the exterior of her
hull as though neither paint nor soap had known it for years. In her
cabins were marks of blood not eradicated; and particularly on the
transom over the stern windows was the print of a bloody hand, the
fingers spread wide as they rested against the paint, suggesting
resistance by one being thrust out. The story so far collected from
the coolies was that they had sailed in