Shall bring off all American refugees would suggest that our State Department request the Porte (Which signifies the Sultan’s government) to permit American warships pass through Bosphorus and protect our interests which appear to be in danger that place.
I also sent a wire to the American Embassy at Constantinople on the same lines advising them that if I did not show up within a week to please make an effort to see what had become of us. After both of these cables were on the wire I felt that I had taken all precautions for the future that I could think about, and we returned to the _France_ and put to sea.
About every day that winter seemed to be the same on those peaceful waters, as far as storm and stress were concerned. We were running up the coast of Asia Minor a few miles off shore all of that night and the next day. It is a bleak and barren shore, with snow-covered mountains rising abruptly from the ragged rocks, against which the sea beat and frothed with a boom that came to us at sea, as loud as distant thunder.
It was about noon on the following day that I opened my diary to make the day’s entry. It was December 24th. Christmas eve! I had even forgotten that Christmas existed, and for the first time it occurred to me that we would celebrate rather a dismal day on the little _France_. It is the season of the year when one’s mind wanders far from wars and waves and tumult, and my thoughts drifted back across the broad Atlantic to a certain home, where festivities would be going forward apace on this day, and little children would be expectantly doing up bundles and trimming all with green and holly.
I sent Morris forward for the skipper and asked him if there was a cable station within range of us. Together we pored over the chart and figured that we might reach Trebizond by four that afternoon, if all went well, and the course was duly altered. Sure enough, promptly on the hour we rounded the point and sailed into the mere angle on the coast they call a harbor at Trebizond. Half a dozen ships lay at anchor riding the heavy swell that came booming in from the sea, and then swept on to break with grim fury on the shore a mile or so beyond. One of these ships was a French mail steamer of 3500 tons, which had been lying there for ten days waiting for the storm to abate, and the others had been standing by for varying lengths of time for a similar purpose.