The Channel was tolerably smooth outside the Isle of Wight, and during
the afternoon we were able to hold on our course direct for Ushant.
After midnight, however, the wind worked gradually round to the
W.S.W., and blew directly in our teeth. A terribly heavy sea got up;
and, as we were making little or no progress, it was decided to put
in to Torquay or Dartmouth, and there await a change. We anchored in
Torbay, about half a mile from the pier, at 8.30 a.m., and soon
afterwards went ashore to bathe. We found, however, that the high
rocks which surround the snug little bathing cove made the water as
cold as ice.

Nothing more having been heard of our poor little kitten, we can only
conclude that she has gone overboard. Just as we were leaving the
railway-station, however, we saw a small white kitten with a blue
ribbon round its neck; and all the children at once exclaimed,
'There's our Lily!' We made inquiries, and found that it belonged to
the young woman at the refreshment room, who, after some demur,
allowed us to take it away with us, in compliance with Muriel's
anxious wish, expressed on her face.

About ten o'clock we got under way, but lay-to for breakfast. We then
had a regular beat of it down Channel--everybody being ill. We formed
a melancholy-looking little row down the lee side of the ship, though
I must say that we were quite as cheery as might have been expected
under the circumstances. It was bright and sunny overhead, which made
things more bearable.

_Sunday, July 9th_.--A calm at 2 a.m. Orders were given to get up
steam; but the new coals from Chatham were slow to light, though good