Looking Seaward Again | Page 5

follows:--This estimable Briton had been approached by a person of great astuteness and easy integrity, who was neither an Englishman nor a Turk, to engage at all costs a steamer to take bullocks on deck to a certain unnamed destination. The freight would be paid before the cattle were shipped, but the vessel would have to sail that night, and a large sum would be paid for running that risk.
"State your price," said the genial agent; "anything within reason will be paid."
The captain was as eager to do a deal as his new acquaintance, though he pleaded the almost impossible task of running out of the port without being observed, and if observed the inevitable consequence of being sunk, probably with all on board. The agent, having in mind his own considerable interest, played discreetly on the vanity of the commander, and laughed at the notion of an astute person like him allowing himself to be trapped; appealed to his nationality, and the glory of having run out of a port that was severely blockaded. The captain cut this flow of greasy oratory short by stating that for the moment he was thinking of the amount of hard cash he was going to get, and not of the glory.
"I know what I will have to do, and I think I know how it will have to be done; but first let us fix the amount I am to have for doing it. My price is ￡----. Do you agree?"
"Yes," said the agent; "though it's a bit stiff. But the animals must go forward."
The captain did not expect so sudden a confirmation, and remarked, "I fancy I have not put sufficient value on the services I am to carry out; but I have given my word, and will keep it."
In due course the money was handed over in British gold. The cattle were taken aboard, and just as the sun was setting the moorings were cast off, and the vessel proceeded to the outer harbour and anchored. The chief mate was instructed to put as little chain as possible out, and the engineer was told to have a good head of steam at a certain hour. Meanwhile, the captain proceeded to the city to clear his ship, and at the stated hour he was stealthily rowed alongside. The pawls of the windlass were muffled, and the anchor was hove noiselessly up by hand; the engines were set easy ahead, and as soon as she was on her course the telegraph rang "full speed." She had not proceeded far before a shot was fired from the inner gunboat, which landed alongside the starboard quarter. The chief officer called from the forecastle head--
"They are firing at us--hadn't you better stop?"
"Stop, be d----d! Do you want to be hung or sent to the Siberian mines?"
The next shot fell short of the stern. They now came thick and heavy, but the Claverhouse by this time was racing away, and was quickly out of range. The most critical time arrived when she was rushed headlong over the line of torpedoes; and as soon as the outer gunboat was opened clear of the breakwater, she, too, commenced to fire. Once the line of mines was safely passed, the course was set to hug the land. The firing from the torpedo gunboat was wildly inaccurate, never a shot coming within fathoms of their target, and soon the little steamer was far beyond the reach of the Tsar's guns.
Her captain had no faith in the report industriously circulated that the Crimean coast and the Black Sea were impenetrably mined, so he proceeded gaily on his voyage, shaking hands with himself for having succeeded in running the gauntlet without a single man being hurt, or the breaking of a rope-yarn. The crew were boisterously proud of the night's exploit. They knew that no pecuniary benefit would be derived by them, and were content to believe that they had been parties to a dashing piece of devil-may-care work. The average British sailor of that period loved to be in a scrape, and revelled in the sport of doing any daring act to get out of it. It never occurred to the captain that his crew might jib at the thought of undertaking so perilous a course. He had been reared in the courage of the class to which he belonged, and his confidence in the loyalty of his men was not shaken by the thoughtless interjection of the chief officer, who, in a shameful moment asked him to turn back after the first shot was fired. He had no time to think of that senseless advice when it was given, but it may be taken for granted the cautious mate did not add to his popularity with the crew. He had