Chapter IV: Part 4

"I have had a little conversation with him," replied the pilot; "and it does seem to me extraordinary--and if I were not here I might almost say an outrage--that no other course could be found than utter sacrifice."

"Oh, don't talk to me!" exclaimed the vivacious mate, in a flood of passion. "You call it extraordinary and an outrage! Is that a proper name for such wickedness? You ask me what I think of it? I tell you I cannot think. You talk about outrage! I say, sir, it is joining outrage to injustice, and I cannot believe that any other than a frozen-souled fool would have done it. There is not a glimmering of common-sense in it. The wonder is that he didn't take it back to the scoundrels, for pity's sake!"

This outburst of withering scorn encouraged the pilot to ask what the sailors thought of it.

"Go and ask them, if you want to hear something you've never heard before."

The captain, who was in the charthouse, could not help hearing these interesting opinions of himself, nor could he help enjoying the rugged humour of them. His mate had his peculiarities, but he never doubted his loyalty to himself, and he was sure that on reflection he would come to see the wisdom of disentanglement. He went on to the bridge as though all was serene, asked a few questions of the pilot, and settled down until the vessel arrived at her discharging port.

On landing, a message-boy told him there was a telegram at the office for him. He eagerly asked if he knew where it was from. The boy replied, "Gibraltar." He requested the messenger to get it for him, and found it was from the agent who shipped the tobacco, the purport of it being to offer him L500 to bring it back, and intimating that a letter was on the way. When this came to hand, it explained exhaustively the reason the freight was not paid as agreed, and boldly accused the port authorities and officials of having organized a plot in order to accomplish their own evil ends. This precious document was signed by the writer, and, needless to say, was not replied to. As a necessary protection to himself, the master had a declaration signed by the whole of the crew, stating that they had no tobacco concealed or in their possession other than that shown to the Custom-house officers.

As is usual after a vessel arrives in a home port, and is properly moored and decks cleared up, the crew go aft, draw a portion of their wages, and then go ashore. They had a fine tale to relate, and it may be taken for granted that no incident connected therewith lost any of its flavour in the process of narration. It would appear that the sailors got drunk and "peached" in a most grotesque way. They declared that although much of the contraband had been disposed of, this was only done as a blind, and that there were tons beneath the iron ore and in the peaks and bunkers, and all over the vessel. The story spread, and grew as it was passed along, until it became the most colossal smuggling enterprise ever known in the country. The captain came on board at noon on the day following the arrival, and found a large number of Custom-house officers on board. Some were in the holds digging vigorously at the ore with picks and shovels. Their coats were off, and their shirt sleeves doubled up. Others were on deck ready for action, but the chief mate prevented them going into the forepeak, which caused both suspicion and irritation. The captain gave them permission. Two went forth full of hope and confidence that they were on the point of reaping their reward. They had no sooner got down than indescribable cries for God to help them were heard. A rush was made to see what had happened. The lights were out, and nothing was visible. They groped their way to the peak ladder, and were nearly dead with fright when they reached the deck. When they had sufficiently recovered, they said that there was something in the peak alive, which kept butting up against them. They were sure it wasn't a man, and that it must be something evil. An Irish sailor stood close by laughing and jeering at them, and in genuine brogue he charged them with being haunted by their own "evil deeds."

"You had no business there," said he, "and to prove to you that I am right I'll swear divil a thing is there in the peak but cargo gear and other stores. I'll go down myself and face the evil one you talk about."

And down he went, but the fright of the officers was feeble to the Irishman's. He shrieked and flew on deck shouting, "Be God, you're right, he's there!"

The chief mate suspected what it was, but was not keen on going down himself or ordering any one else to do so, so the anchor light was lowered down and shone upon the captain's pet goat. It had been long aboard for the purpose of supplying milk to the captain and his wife. The peak hatch had been off, and Nannie, accustomed to go wherever she pleased, strayed into the darkness and tumbled down. The incident stopped all work for a time, and created a lot of good-humoured chaff. The Irishman was especially droll, and endeavoured to carry it off by swearing he knew it was the goat, but he wanted some other fellow to have a go at it. "But no fear," said he; "every one of them was dying with funk."

After a time the captain thought it right to disillusion the officer in charge, and going up to him asked the meaning of the raid.

"Well," replied the officer, "we have information that there is a large quantity of tobacco aboard, and that some of it is in the forepeak, but most of it is about a couple of feet below the iron ore."

The captain replied, "We had a lot of it a few days since, but there is not a leaf aboard now that I know of. Every particle has been thrown overboard. Let me reassure you on this point."

"But," said the officer, "what about the packing? My men have come across a large quantity."

"That is very true," said the commander; "the packing is the only thing we saved. Now get your men ashore, there's a good fellow. You are only working them to death for no earthly reason."

"But the sailors say the tobacco was emptied out of the packing and covered over with ore."

"Well, if you believe the sailors and you don't believe me, go on digging. I can only repeat, the search is futile."

"Very well," replied the disconcerted official, "I shall withdraw all my men but two, who must remain to watch and make sure of there being no concealment. Not that I disbelieve you. It is merely a formal precaution which I hope you will think nothing of."

The whole affair had been reported to the Collector of Customs, and the master was informed that all things considered, the best thing had been done in ridding himself of an awkward encumbrance. In a few days an emissary of the Gibraltar syndicate had an interview with the captain, and then disappeared. It was said that he was strongly advised to disappear, lest he should be detained by legal authority.

The owner received the freight paid in advance with obvious pleasure, like a good, Christian gentleman; but the intelligence of how it was earned and the disastrous conclusion of the undertaking was listened to with studied gravity. A sermon on the danger of little sins such as covetousness and the growing love of money was impressively preached. The owner was convinced that if ever the gentlemen involved in this little transaction got the opportunity they would take the master's life, so in the goodness of his heart he determined that the vessel should not call there for coal until the spirit of vengeance had had ample time to cool down.

More than twelve months had elapsed since these affairs occurred, when the owner was offered a charter from the Black Sea, but one of the unalterable conditions was that the vessel should call at Gibraltar for orders. The captain strongly urged his owner not to lose so good a charter because of his anxiety for him, but he was obdurate until the captain said--

"Then I shall have to resign my command. I cannot go on like this any longer."

"If you make this the alternative, then I must give way; but the responsibility is yours alone," was the reply.

The charter was signed, and on a fine summer day two months after, the _C----_ let go her anchor in Gibraltar Harbour to await her orders. A tall, fine-looking man came aboard to solicit business of a legitimate character. He spoke English with fluency and an almost correct accent. The captain knew he had some business connection with the syndicate, but did not give him any reason to suppose he had this knowledge. He was cognisant of the characteristics of these people, and determined that his safety was in assuming an injured attitude, and making a slashing attack on the blackguards who had done him so much harm. Excepting for a slight humorous twist in the corner of his mouth, Mr. ---- received the onslaught with perfect equanimity. The captain asked if he knew the rascal P----.

"Yes," said he, "I know him. He is a bad lot, and I advise you never to trust him again. But if you wish me to, I will convey to him what you say; and I think you would be perfectly justified in carrying out your intention." (The intention was to horsewhip him publicly.)

The following morning the captain landed with his wife and family, and boldly walked past the resorts of the men who he had reason to believe were on his track. He kept his hand on the revolver which was in his trouser-pocket, and the sound of every foot behind him seemed to be a message of warning. This ordeal went on for four days, and never a sign of the dreaded assassins was seen. On the afternoon of the fifth day he was walking down towards the boat-landing to go on board, when his eye came in contact with the interpreter and the whole gang that were concerned in the tobacco enterprise. There was a look of murder on their villainous faces, which the captain said would haunt him to his dying day. He spontaneously and without thought said to his wife, who walked beside him--

"I see the smugglers. Don't look!"

But it came so suddenly upon her that she could not restrain the temptation of seeing them, and the impression of their malignant looks had a lasting effect on her. When they reached the boat, the gentleman who had boarded her on arrival was there. He drew the captain aside, and whispered that he was being shadowed, and urged that a double watch be kept at the entrance to the cabin. As a matter of policy the captain assumed an air of defiance. He promised a sanguinary reception for them if they attempted to come near his vessel, and he believes to this day that this alone was the means of preventing an attack.

Next morning orders were brought off, and no time was lost in weighing anchor and clearing out, and he has never visited the place since.

A Pasha before Plevna

The Eastern Question was ablaze. Mr. Gladstone had published his "bag and baggage" pamphlet, and made his Blackheath speech in September 1876. Both are memorable for the strong feelings they generated for and against the object of his attack. Benjamin Disraeli had become the Earl of Beaconsfield, and had made his bellicose and Judaical speech at the Lord Mayor's Banquet. The fleet had been ordered to Besika Bay, and the metropolitan Press was busy backing Turkish saintliness for all it was worth. The Black Sea ports were crowded with steamers, and a great rush was made to get them loaded before hostilities broke out. In a few days there were but two vessels left in ---- Harbour. The last cart-loads of grain in bags were being shipped. The vessel was held by a slip-rope at bow and stern, and as soon as she was loaded they let go, and the pilot took her to the outer harbour and anchored. The captain went to the town to clear his ship and sign bills of lading, and great exertions were made by his agents and himself to have this smartly done so that he could sail before darkness set in. After his business was done, he came to the landing and was about to get into his boat when a gentleman stepped up to him, and in an undertone said--

"Come to my office; I have something important to communicate to you. Don't, for God's sake, open your lips here. The very stones feel as if they were spying at me."

The captain hesitated, but his friend whispered--

"You must come; it is urgent, and it will be made worth your while."

Whereupon the cautious commander fell like a slaughtered lamb. They were soon alone within the four walls of a sumptuously-furnished private office.

"What's the game?" asked the impatient captain, uneasily.

"This is it," said his friend, coming close up to him and speaking in a low voice: "I have a secret job for you."

"Is there danger attached to it?" asked the captain.

"Yes, a good deal," replied his friend; "and I have chosen you to do it, because I know you will carry it out successfully if you'll take the risk."

"That's all very well," responded the captain, "but I don't care to overburden myself with danger and risk of confiscation, without I'm handsomely recompensed for it."

"Hush!" said his friend, nervously; "I think I hear voices. If we are overheard by any one, we may be betrayed and pounced upon at any moment."

After listening, he was reassured, and intimated that the worthy skipper would be well rewarded.

"That entirely alters the question," said the captain. "How much am I to have, and what is it you wish me to do?"

"You are to have two hundred and fifty pounds if you succeed in getting a distinguished Turkish pasha and his suite from here, and land them at Scutari."

"What!" exclaimed the commander. "Do you expect me to run the gauntlet with a Turkish pasha for two hundred and fifty pounds? Why, his head is worth thousands, to say nothing about the danger I run of having my ship confiscated, and myself sent to Siberia. Do not let us waste time. I will risk it for a thousand pounds, and put my state-room at his disposal."

The agent demurred, but the captain was for some time obdurate. However, seven hundred and fifty for the owners with two hundred for the captain was, after keen negotiation, agreed upon. It was further arranged that the steamer was not to sail until after midnight, so that the risk of stoppage would be lessened, and in rowing off as soon as it came dark, the oars were to be muffled.

"Leave these matters to me," said the captain. "How many passengers are there?"

"Six," said the agent. "They are in hiding. I will undertake to bring them aboard, with their baggage, in good time. Extreme care must be used in getting them away, as we may be watched. I have had to use 'palm oil' liberally, but even that may not prevent their betrayal and arrest."

"Well, then," said the shrewd commander, "under these circumstances I must have my freight before the risk actually begins."

It took some time for the agent to make up his mind to part with the money in advance, but the captain intimated that unless it was paid at once he would throw the business up. This promptly settled the matter, and a pledge was given by the enterprising captain to relax no effort or dash--"Combined with caution," said the agent--to fulfil his important mission. At 10 p.m., he was rowed alongside the steamer without having been interrupted or spoken to from the guardship or the sentries at the forts. After the gig was hoisted to the davits, the chief officer and chief engineer were asked to go to the saloon, where specific instructions were given as to the mode of procedure. The anchor was to be hove short at once very quietly. All lights had to be put out or blinded, and a full head of steam up at the hour of sailing. The officers were made aware of the job that had been undertaken, and relished the excitement of it. At 11.30 the passengers, with a large amount of baggage, came alongside and were taken aboard; and as a double precaution, the distinguished pasha and his attendants went down the forepeak until the vessel got outside. Their goods were put into the upper side-bunkers, and a wooden bulkhead put up to obscure them from view in case the vessel was boarded before getting clear. At midnight the anchor was weighed, and the steamer slipped out into the Black Sea. Every ounce of steam was used to make speed, and she was soon into safety so far as distance could help her.

The passengers, composed of the pasha, his priest, cook, interpreter, and servant, were then brought from their hiding-place and taken to the captain's private room. The vessel by this time was enveloped in a dense black fog. The first blast of the steam whistle startled the party, and the panic-stricken interpreter rushed on to the bridge. In a confusion of languages he implored the captain to say whether there was danger, and begged him to come to his master and his priest and reassure them that the whistle was being blown to let passing vessels know of their whereabouts and the course they were steering.

"Ah," said he, "my master is a brave, clever soldier; but like most soldiers, he does not know anything about the sea, and was in consequence uneasy when he heard the shrill sound of the whistle. Indeed, it made him change colour; he thought it might be a Russian privateer demanding you to stop. And the priest did not wait one minute; he went on to his knees and bowed his head in prayer, and the pasha ordered me to come to you quick. You must not think that I was nervous, captain; I was very excited only."

"Very well," replied the captain, smiling. "You may call it excitement, but I should call it white funk, the way you conducted yourself on my bridge. Why, you spoke every language in the universe!"

"Ah, that was not funk, captain; that was what you call confusion, caused by anxiety for that brave soldier in your cabin, and his spiritual adviser. Besides, captain, how can you speak to one of your own countrymen in this fashion, and accuse him of talking so many tongues! I am a Maltese, and have interpreted for many years for my good friend, Osman Pasha."

"What!" cried the captain. "Is this the Turkish patriot, Osman Pasha?"

"Now, captain, _you_ are excited; but I do not say that you speak many languages. Keep cool, and I will tell you. It is not Osman, but it is very near him, being his lieutenant or aide-de-camp."

"Is it Suleiman?"

"No, it is not."

"Then who the devil is it? By Jupiter! I believe it _is_ Osman."

"I dare not tell you his name; he has been reconnoitring, and has had narrow escapes."

"That's not what I want to know. Tell me straight away--is it Osman Pasha, or is it not?"

"Captain," said the wily interpreter, "this is a secret mission. I cannot tell secrets that may get us all into trouble; but I will inform you that you will hear of this warrior during the next few months. I must ask you to come and see him. He cannot speak one word of English. Bring your chart, as he is sure to ask you to point out to him exactly our position."

The captain followed the interpreter into the presence of a majestic-looking person, who saluted him with kindly dignity. His face wore a thoughtful appearance; his eyes were penetrating, and under a massive forehead there rested well-developed eyebrows, betokening keen observation. His chin and nose were strong, and altogether his general looks, if not handsome, were comely. He gave the commander a real, big-hearted grip of the hand, which settled the question of friendship for him at once. Sailors detest a "grisly shake of the flipper." Likes and dislikes are invariably fixed by this test. The pasha was exceedingly cordial; asked, through his interpreter, all sorts of questions about the British Government, British statesmen, admirals, and generals, and the Army and Navy; but, above all, he was anxious to hear whether the British people were for or against Turkey. He was aware that Disraeli was with his nation, and regretted the attitude of Gladstone. He said poor Turkey had many enemies, and when the captain told him that he thought the bulk of the British people were in favour of Disraeli's policy, he held out his hand again in token of appreciation. The captain spoke very frankly about the Bulgarian atrocities, and the bad policy of the Turkish Government with her subject races. The pasha admitted that reforms ought to be given, but held that the Balkan insurrections were encouraged by Russia in order to ultimately get hold of Constantinople.

"My Government," said he, "is a better Government than that of Russia. We do not treat our people worse than she does hers. Are there no atrocities committed in Russia proper, in Siberia, in Poland? Why does Mr. Gladstone not demand that Russia shall give reforms to her subject races? Is it because she is big, and near to India, and calls herself a Christian nation? We are Mohammedans; and our religion teaches honesty, cleanness, sobriety, devotion to our God and his prophet Mahomet, and we adhere to it. Does the Russian adhere to his religion, which I admit, if carried out, is as good as ours? I think our consistency is superior to theirs, and the extent of our cruelty no worse, though I do not justify it. But do you think that the Servians, Armenians, Herzegovinians, Montenegrins, and Bulgarians are saints? Do you think that the Turkish people and Governors have not been provoked to retaliation? There may have been excesses, but no one who knows the different races will say that the Turks are all bad, or that the subject races are all good."

He then requested to be shown the position of the steamer on the chart, asked if there was any danger of collision if the fog continued, and hoped she was steaming full speed, as he must get to Constantinople without delay. The captain informed him that so long as he heard the whistle going the fog was still on, and it might become necessary to ease down as she drew towards the regular track of vessels; and when the danger of collision was explained to him, he agreed that it was necessary to guard against it, but asked through his interpreter that he should be shown the chart every four hours, which was agreed. The interpreter then intimated that the priest would hold a service previous to retiring to rest, and during the passage they would be held before and after every meal. The food, cooking utensils, and cook were provided by themselves. They would not eat the food of Christians, or use their utensils for the purpose of preparing it. In fact, what with the weird, shrill wail of their "yahing" prayers, the intolerable smell of their cooking, the smoke from their "hubblebubbles," and a perpetual run of messages coming from the pasha (while he was awake) to the officer in charge, they became somewhat of a nuisance before the first twenty-four hours had expired. The officers could not get their proper rest, which caused them to feel justified in becoming profane, and wishing the Turkish windpipes would snap.

The fog lifted, as it generally does, a little before noon, on the day after sailing, and an accurate latitude was got; but during the afternoon it shut down blacker than ever. The engines had to be slowed, and the whistle was constantly going. The pasha's anxiety to get to his destination was giving him constant worry, and he became more and more troublesome. The interpreter explained that the Sultan was waiting to consult his master about the plan of campaign, and other military matters, and that the delay was making the pasha impatient; but in spite of annoying pressure, the captain refused to depart from the wise precaution of going slow while the fog lasted. At midnight it cleared up a little, and the engines were put at full speed until 8 a.m. the following morning, when they ran into a bank of fog again. The speed was slackened to dead slow, and as she was nearing the Bosphorus land the lead was kept going; but, owing to the great depth of water, sounding is little guide towards keeping vessels clear of the rocks of that steep and iron-bound coast. Currents run with rapid irregularity, and in no part of the world is navigation more treacherous than there. According to the reckoning, the vessel was within four miles of the entrance to the Bosphorus, but no prudent navigator would have risked going farther until he could see his way; so orders were given to stop her. This brought more urgent messages from the pasha. As the day wore on and the mist still continued, all hope of getting into the Bosphorus had disappeared. The pasha sent for the captain, and said he must be at Constantinople that evening.

"Well," said the captain to the interpreter, "tell your master that if the Sultan and all his concubines were to ask me to go ahead I would have to refuse."

Then he proceeded to point out the dangers on the chart. This did not appeal to the pasha's military understanding. What he wanted was to be landed somewhere, and he did not regard running the vessel ashore with any disastrous consequences to himself until he was assured that the rocks were so steep that even in a calm the vessel might sink in deep water and everybody be drowned.

"Anyhow," said the captain, "I'm not going to try it on; so you must inform your master of my definite decision. He cannot be more anxious than I am. I've scarcely closed my eyes since we left, and if this continues I must face another night of it."

He then went on to the bridge, and had only been there about half an hour when his persistent passenger approached him beseechingly, stating that the pasha would give a hundred pounds if he was landed that night.

"I would not attempt such a thing for twenty hundred," said the captain.

"Will nothing tempt you, then, to run a risk?" asked the interpreter.

"Nothing but the clearing away of the fog," replied the commander.

He then commenced to walk the bridge, and pondered over the experience he was having, wrestling with himself as to the amount of risk he should run. He called the second officer to him, and gave him orders to go aloft to the foretopgallant mast-head and see if he could make anything out. The officer was in the act of jumping into the rigging when a Turkish schooner sailed close alongside and was soon out of sight. The captain knew then that he was in the vicinity of the entrance, and set the engines easy ahead. The second mate, after being at the mast-head about ten minutes, shouted--

"I see over the top of the fog a lighthouse or tower on the port bow. I can see no land."

When he was asked if he could see anything on the starboard bow, his answer came in the negative. The captain, fearing lest he might be steering into the false Bosphorus, which is a treacherous deep bight that has been the death-trap of many a ship's crew, gave orders to stop her while he ran aloft to verify the officer's report and scan over the mist for some landmark to guide him in navigating in the right direction. He had only been a few minutes at the mast-head when he discerned the white lighthouse on the starboard bow. There was no doubt now that these were the Bosphorus lighthouses, and the vessel was heading right for the centre. The captain asked if they could see anything from the deck. The chief mate replied that he could scarcely see the forecastle head, so dense was the fog. The master shouted that he would navigate the steamer from the topgallant-yard, and gave instructions to go slow ahead, and to keep a vigilant look-out for passing vessels. Half an hour's steaming brought them abreast of the lighthouses, when suddenly they glided into beautiful, clear weather. The scene was phenomenal. Not a speck of fog was to be seen ahead of the vessel, while astern there stood a great black pall, as though one had drawn a curtain across the harbour entrance.

After the papers had been landed at Kavak, the pasha and interpreter came to the bridge and asked for a few minutes' talk with the captain, who was in excellent temper at having cut through the fog and saved daylight through the narrow waters. The pasha was dressed gorgeously, and many decorations adorned his uniform. He shook the proud commander warmly by the hand, and through his interpreter gratefully thanked him for carrying himself and his suite safely to their destination. He did not undervalue the great danger of having them aboard in the event of being chased and captured, nor did he under-estimate the risk that had been run in steaming into dangerous waters during a dense fog; and in order that the captain might be assured of his grateful appreciation, he begged to hand him two hundred Turkish pounds for himself. After suitably offering his thanks for so generous a gift, the captain again asked the interpreter the name of the distinguished general he had had the honour of carrying as a passenger, and was again told that such questions could not be answered.

Before the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, they had reached Scutari; and in order that the passengers might be disembarked comfortably, the anchor was dropped. Caiques came alongside for them and for their baggage. The captain went to the gangway to see the pasha safely into the boat, and to say his _adieux_ to him. After he had got safely seated in the caique, and the interpreter was about to follow, the commander held out his hand to him and said--

"Before bidding good-bye, may I again venture to ask if I have had the honour of conveying Osman Pasha to Constantinople, or whom I have conveyed?"

The interpreter, with an air of injured pride, drew himself up to his full height, and said--

"Captain, I have told you not to ask such things. Good-day."

But that was how one of the heroes of Plevna made his first English ally by sea.

A Russian Port in the 'Sixties

My first visit to Russia was at the age of thirteen. I was serving aboard a smart brig that had just come from the Guano Islands in the Indian Ocean. The captain and officers belonged to the "swell" type of seaman of that period. The former has just passed away at the age of eighty-four. He was in his younger days a terror to those who served under him, and a despot who knew no pity. In an ordinary way he was most careful not to lower the dignity of his chief officer in the eyes of the crew, but wherever his self-interest was concerned he did not stick at trivialities. I have a vivid recollection of a very picturesque passage of words being exchanged between him and his first mate. The officer had been commanded to go ashore in the longboat at 5 a.m. on the morning after arrival for the labourers who were required to assist the sailors to discharge the cargo. The infuriated mate asked his commander if he took him for a "procurator" of Russian serfs, and reminded him that his certificate of competency was a qualification for certain duties which he was willing to perform; but as this did not come within the scope of them, he would see him to blazes before he would stoop to the level of becoming the engager of a drove of Russian convicts.

"What is it coming to," said he, "that a chief mate should be requested to take charge of a boat-load of fellows who wouldn't be fit to live in our country? The boatswain is the proper man to do this kind of work, and if you cannot trust him to select the lousie rascals, then go yourself!"

These harsh words affected the captain so much that he became inarticulate with passion; but when he had somewhat recovered, the splendour of his jerky vocabulary could be heard far beyond the precincts of the cabin. He declared that his authority had never been outraged in such a fashion before, and with the air of an autocrat ordered the mate to his berth until the morrow, when he would have to appear before the British Consul.

The officer's pride was injured, his temper was up, and he began to suitably libel everybody. Her Majesty's representative was the object of much vituperation, and a rather brilliant harangue was brought to a close by the officer stating that he would go and see the blooming Consul, and say some straight things to him. With a final flourish he called out at the top of his voice, disdainfully--

"Who the h---- is he?"

The next morning at ten o'clock the captain gave orders to row him ashore. The mate wore a humbler appearance than on the previous day: meditation had mellowed him. He stepped into the boat beside his commander, but was told with icy dignity that the boy would take him ashore in the cook's lurky. No greater insult could have been offered to an officer. The Consul at that time was Walter Maynard, a charming man whom I knew well years afterwards. Although I only heard odds and ends of what transpired, I feel sure the advice given was in the mate's interests, and made him see his objection from another point of view. He did not take kindly to bringing the labourers off, but he sullenly commenced from that day to do it.

Coal cargoes were at that time jumped out of the hold with four ropes bent on to one called a runner, which was rove through a coal gin fastened on to the end of a derrick composed of two studdingsail booms lashed together, and steps were rigged with studdingsail yards and oars. The arrangement had the appearance of a gate, and was fixed at an angle. Four men gave one sharp pull with the whip ropes, and then jumped from the step on to the deck. The men in the hold changed places with the whips every two hours. It was really an exciting thing to witness the whipping out of coal cargoes. It may be seen even now in some ports of the United Kingdom, but the winch has largely taken the place of this athletic process. Most captains supplied rum or vodka liberally, with a view to expediting dispatch, and did not scruple to log and fine those seamen who acquired a craving for alcohol, and misconducted themselves in consequence when they got liberty to go ashore. Nobody was more severe on the men who committed a breach of discipline than those who, for their own profit, had taught them to drink.

The poor, wretched Russians who were employed aboard English and other vessels were treated with a cruelty that was hideous. Before the emancipation of the serfs by the Emperor Alexander II. in 1861, it was not an uncommon occurrence for captains and officers and seamen to maltreat them, knock them on the head, and then pass their bodies over the side of the vessel into the Mole. One of the first things I remember hearing in a Russian port was a savage mate swearing at some labourers and threatening to throw them overboard. It is no exaggeration to say that almost every day dead bodies came to the surface and were taken to the "Bran" Wharf or to the mortuary, with never a word of inquiry as to how they came by their end, though it was well known that there had been foul play. It is true they were awful thieves, very dirty, very lazy, and very provoking, and it was because the officers were unable to get redress that they took the law into their own hands. It is incredible that such a condition of things was allowed to exist.

A stock phrase even to this day of predatory Russians is, "Knet crawlim, tackem"--_i.e._, "I have not stolen, I have only taken." They have a pronounced conviction that there is a difference between stealing and taking. Tradition has it that a humorous seaman ages ago conveyed this form of distinction to them, and it has stuck to them ever since. Another peculiarity of the race is that they wear the same large grey coat in the summer as they do in the winter; they are taught to believe that what keeps out cold keeps out heat. When they take drink they never stop until they are dead drunk, then they lie anywhere about the streets and quays. The police, who are not much better, use them very cruelly. During the Russo-Turkish war hundreds of the common soldiers, who are similar to the common labourer, were found lying on the battle-field, presumably dead, when it was found they were only dead drunk. I was told by a doctor, who went right through the campaign, that it was customary to fill the "soldads," as they are called, previous to a battle, with vodka. The lower order of Russians must be hardy, or they could never stand the extremes of cold and heat, and the terrible food they have to eat. They are not long-lived. I cannot recall ever having seen a very old Russian labourer.

The emancipation of the serfs was a great grievance to the old seamen, who looked back to the days when they could with impunity chastise or finish a serf without a feeling of reproach. After the emancipation it became a terror to have them aboard ship. Many a mate has been heavily fined and locked up in a pestilential cell for merely shoving a fellow who was caught in the act of stealing, or found skulking, or deliberately refusing to work properly. Labourers, in fact, became a herd of blackmailers, and were encouraged in it by some agency or other, who shared the plunder. One old captain, with an expression of sadness on his face, told me, on my first visit to Cronstadt since I was a boy, that everything had changed for the worse.

"At one time," said he, "you never got up of a morning without seeing a few dead Russians floating about. You could chuck them overboard if you liked, and nobody interfered. Many a time I've put one over the side. But now you dare not whisper, much less touch them."

The general opinion amongst English seamen, from the master downwards, was that a great injustice had been done to us by the Decree of Liberation.

On one occasion I lay alongside a Yankee ship which was loading flax. Work had ceased for breakfast. I saw the chief officer on the poop, said "Good morning" to him, and asked him how the loading was going on.

"Well," said he, "it goes not so bad, but we've had an accident this morning which stopped us for nearly an hour. There were three or four bales of flax slung in the hatchway; the slings slipped, and the bales fell right on a dozen Russians."

"That is very serious," I said. "Did it kill them?"

"No," drawled he, with a slow smile; "it didn't exactly kill them, but I guess it has flattened them out some."

The "Bran" Wharf was then a large pontoon, with dwelling accommodation for Custom-house officers and harbour officials. It was moored just at the entrance to the dock or mole, and was in charge of an official who regulated the berthing of vessels. This man was originally a boatswain aboard a Russian warship. He was illiterate, but very clever, so much so that great power was put into his hands; indeed, he became quite as powerful in his way as his Imperial Majesty himself. Every conceivable complaint and petty dispute was taken to him, and it was soon found that it could be settled in a way that did not involve a fine or imprisonment. In fact, there were occasions when a favourite English captain or mate asked this official's aid in getting the Russians to work properly. He would, if agreeably disposed, come aboard, spit, stamp, and swear at the men in a most picturesque way, and if he had had a glass or two of grog, or wanted one, and the captain or mate made a very bad report, he would lash the skulkers with a piece of rope. When he was finished there was no more need for complaint. This notorious person was called Tom the Boatswain. He drew very fine distinctions as to whom he favoured with his countenance and his chastening rod. For obvious reasons, he loathed a Swede and a Norwegian. In truth, he told me himself that Englishmen were "dobra" (good), and that Norwegians and Swedes were "knet dobra." He spoke a peculiar kind of English, with a fascinating accent, and when he went his rounds in the early morning, rowed by two uniformed sailors, studied respect was paid to him. His invitations to breakfast, or to have a glass of brandy (which he preferred to whisky), indicated the esteem, fear, or amount of favours inspired by him. He in turn endeavoured to pay a hurried visit to each of his guests, ostensibly to see that their vessels were properly berthed, and the men working properly, but really to test the generosity of the captains, who seldom let him go without a "douceur," which was sometimes satisfactory. He was accustomed, when asked to have refreshment, to request that his two men should have a nip also. One morning he visited a favourite captain who had arranged with his mate to act liberally towards the men. His stay in the cabin was prolonged, and when he came on deck and called for the boat, his devoted henchmen did not come forth. He looked over the quarter-deck, and was thrown into frenzy by seeing them both lying speechless, their bodies in the bottom, and their legs sticking up on the seats of the boat. He got into her, kicked the two occupants freely without producing from them any appreciable symptoms of life, and then finally rowed himself back to the "Bran" Wharf. The two culprits were compulsory teetotalers after that.

Their master went on accumulating roubles, which, under Russian law, Tom could not invest in his own name, and perhaps he had personal reasons for secrecy. He did not allow the amount of his wealth to be known to gentlemen who might have relieved him of the anxiety of watching over it. But, alas! there came a period of great trial to Tom. That portion of the "Bran" Wharf where the roubles were concealed took fire. The occupants had to fly for their lives, and soon the whole fabric was burnt to the water's edge. Another pontoon was erected in its place, and Tom put in command; but before he had time to replace the fortune he had lost, he was superseded by a naval officer, and his roubles were taken from him. I believe his dismissal was brought about by one of the countrymen to whom he had such a strong aversion making a complaint to the Governor about his partiality to Englishmen. Great sympathy was secretly extended to poor Tom by his English friends, but the loss of his position and his wealth broke his heart, and he only survived the blow for a few weeks.

In addition to controlling the berthing of vessels, and keeping the harbour free from confusion, it was Tom's duty to see that no fires or lights were allowed either by day or night, and, as these rigid rules were frequently broken, his "hush money" very largely contributed to his already affluent income. Nor did his removal affect the acquisitiveness of his successor, who loyally followed in his footsteps. As soon as a sailing-vessel arrived in the Roads, the galley fire had to be put out before she was allowed to come into the Mole. All cooking was done ashore at a cookhouse that was loathsomely dirty. A heavy charge was made for the use of the place, and also for the hire of the cook's lurky, a flat-bottomed kind of boat constructed of rough planks. These boats were invariably so leaky that on the passage to and from the shore they became half-foil of water, and the food was frequently spoiled in consequence. But, even if all went right, the crews often had to partake of badly cooked, cold rations. Many a meal was lost altogether, and once or twice a poor cook who could not swim was drowned by the boat filling and capsizing. The frail craft of this kind were of curious shape, and only a person who had the knack could row them. No more comical sport could be witnessed than the lurky race which was held every season. Many of the cooks never acquired the art of rowing straight, and whenever they put a spurt on the lurky would run amuck in consequence of being flat-bottomed and having no keel. Then the carnival of collisions, capsizing of boats, and rescuing of their occupants began. Some disdained assistance, and heroically tried to right their erratic "dug-outs." It would be impossible to draw a true picture of these screamingly funny incidents, but be it remembered they were all sailor-cooks who took part in the sport, and the riotous joy they derived therefrom was always a pleasant memory, and kept them for days in good temper for carrying out the pilgrimage to and from the cookhouse.

The popular English idea is that there are only two classes in Russia--viz., the upper and lower; but this is quite a mistake. There has always been a thrifty shopkeeping and artisan class, which may be called their middle lower class. Then there is a class that comes between them and the common labourer. Nearly all the shopkeepers that carry on business at Cronstadt, Riga, and other Northern Russian ports during the summer have their real homes in Moscow, and mostly all speak a little English. There are also the boatmen, who are a well-behaved, well-dressed lot of men, whose homes are in Archangel. They, as well as the tradesmen, come every spring, and leave when the port closes in the autumn. In the sailing-ship days each of the greengrocers--as they were called, though they sold all kinds of stores besides--had their connection. Every afternoon, between four and six, batches of captains were to be found seated in a greengrocer's shop having a glass of tea with a piece of lemon in it. It was then they spun their yarns in detail about their passages, their owners, their mates, their crews, and their loading and discharging. If their vessels were unchartered they discussed that too, but whenever they got authority from their owners to charter on the best possible terms they became reticent and sly with each other. To exchange views as to the rate that should be accepted would have been regarded as a decided token of business incapacity. Supposing two captains had their vessels unchartered, each would give instructions to be called early in the morning, that they might go in the first boat to St. Petersburg, and neither would know what the other intended. When they met aboard the passenger boat they would lie to each other grotesquely about what was taking them to town. If they were unsuccessful in fixing, they rarely disclosed what had been offered; and this would go on for days, until they had to fix; then they would draw closer to each other, and relate in the most minute fashion the history of all the negotiations, and how cleverly they had gained this or that advantage over the charterers; whereas, in truth, their agents or brokers had great trouble in getting some of them to understand the precise nature of the business that was being negotiated. The following is an instance.

Mr. James Young, of South Shields, whose many vessels were distinguished by having a frying-pan at the foretopgallant or royal mast-head, had a brig at Cronstadt which had been waiting unloaded for some days. Her master was one of the old illiterate class. His peace of mind was much disturbed at Mr. Young's indifference. At last he got a telegram asking him to wire the best freights offering. He proceeded to St. Petersburg, bounced into Mr. Charles Maynard's office, and introduced himself as Mark Gaze, one of Jimmy Young's skippers.

"Well," said Mr. Maynard, in his polite way, "and what can I do for you, Captain Gaze?"

"Dee for me, sorr? Wire the aad villain that she's been lyin' a week discharged."

"Yes," said the broker, writing down something very different. "And what else?"

"Tell him," said Mark, "te fetch the aad keel back te the Gut, and let hor lie and rot wheor he can see hor!"

"Very good," said Maynard, still waiting; "and what else?"

"Whaat else? Oh, tell him to gan to h----, and say Mark Gaze says see. Ask him whaat the blazes he means be runnin' the risk of gettin' hor frozzen in. Say aa'll seun be at Shields owerland, if he dizzen't mind whaat he's aboot."

"Well, now," said the agent, "I think we have got to the bottom of things. We'll send this telegram off; but before it goes, would you like me to read it to you?"

"For God's sake send the d---- thing away!" said Mark. "And tell him te come and tyek the aad beast hyem hissel; or, if he likes, aa'll run hor on te Hogland for him."

"Well, you do seem to understand your owner and speak plainly to him. I should think he knows he has got an excellent master who looks after his interest."

"Interest! What diz he knaa aboot interest? He knaas mair aboot the West Docks. Understand him, d'ye say? If aa divvent, thor's neebody in his employ diz. Aa've been forty-five years wiv him and his fethor tegithor. Aa sarved me time wiv him. He dorsent say a word, or aa'd tell him to take his ship to h---- wiv him."

"That is really capital," said the much amused agent. "Now, what do you say, captain, if we have some light refreshment and a cigar?"

"Ay, that's what aa caal business. But aa nivvor tyek leet refreshment. Ma drink is brandy or whisky neat," said Captain Gaze, his face beaming with good-nature.

They proceeded to a restaurant, and when they got nicely settled down with their drinks and smokes, the skipper remarked--

"Aa wonder what Jimmie waad say if he could see Mark Gaze sittin' in a hotel hevvin' his whisky and smokin' a cigar?"

"I should think," said Mr. Maynard, "he would raise your wages, or give you command of a larger ship." And then there was hearty laughter.

Captain Gaze had a profound dislike to Russians, and more than once narrowly escaped severe punishment for showing it. I have often heard him swearing frightfully at the men passing deals from the lighters into the bow ports of his vessel, and declaring that God Almighty must have had little on hand when he put them on earth. Certainly he would have considered it an act of gross injustice if, having killed or drowned any of them, he had been punished for it.