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 caïque, 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.