DIPLOMACY.
The Nile boat which had been engaged for Cleanor was lying at one of the
quays which bordered a considerable part of the eastern or city shore of
Lake Mareotis. The arrangement had been that it should start early in
the morning of the day following the departure of Polybius. But the
young man purposely delayed his appearance till late in the day, and
the captain and crew, who had plenty of private affairs to occupy them
for as long as their employers chose to stay, made no complaint.
It wanted but two or three hours to sunset when Cleanor at last
presented himself. The captain explained that they would not have time
that day to go further than the mouth of the canal which connected the
lake with the river Nile. This was false. They had plenty of light to
make the passage of the canal itself. But the passenger assented with an
unquestioning alacrity which inspired the old rogue who owned the boat
with the liveliest expectations of a lazy and prosperous voyage. Both
were, in fact, equally satisfied. The captain wanted to do as little as
possible, and also contemplated a final carouse at the Canal Tavern, a
house famous for its wines. The passenger, who had made up his mind to
leave the boat at the earliest opportunity, was glad not to be taken any
further distance from the city than could be helped.
As soon as they halted for the night he summoned the old captain and had
an explanation with him. He began by asking in an indifferent tone the
names of the chief cities which they were to pass. The captain of course
had his lesson by heart, and answered with a long list of places,
adding, as he mentioned each name, the chief sights for which it was
famous.
"And do you particularly wish to see all these places again?" asked the
Greek with a smile.
The old man stared at him. "It is my business, my lord," he answered; "a
poor trade, it is true, but it was my father's before me, and his
father's too, and so on for I don't know how many generations. I don't
know why I have stuck to it, for the pay is poor, but so I have. It is
our way, I suppose, in Egypt."
"The pay is poor, you say," said the Greek; "but it would be better if
you didn't go this voyage, and had the pay all the same."
"My lord is laughing at his servant," said the captain, staring again
with eyes more wide open than ever.
"Not at all; the fact is that I have no more wish to see these places
than you have."
The captain went on staring. "Then why--?" he began.
"My friends settled the matter for me; but I would sooner stay where I
am."
"I understand," said the captain, closing one eye entirely, and
diminishing the other to its natural size. "I understand. You have a
friend, a young friend, I daresay, and you don't think that this is a
good time for a long voyage."
Cleanor saw that the captain had his own ideas of what was keeping him
in Alexandria, and did not care to disabuse him. After all, he
reflected, he was not quite wrong. He nodded.
"You are right, my lord. These cities and temples and tombs up the river
are very fine, but they will be just as fine ten, twenty, thirty years
hence. You can't say that of youth. It passes, my lord, it passes, and
you must enjoy it while you can. But what am I to say? I have been paid
to take you up to Philæ, and, if you wish it, as far as the Second
Cataract. I signed the agreement before a notary. He knows all about it;
other people know it. What am I to say when they find me loitering about
here and your lordship not to be seen? You will hardly believe it, but
there are positively people so wicked that they will say I murdered you
to get the money without making the journey."
Cleanor did believe that there were such people, and thought to himself
that the captain did not look altogether like a man to whom such things
were impossible.
"Oh!" said he, "I will set that all right. I will sign a paper before
the chief of the village, or anyone else that will serve, to say that I
was compelled by urgent private business, which kept me in Alexandria,
to give up my proposed voyage. You will be able to show that to any one
who may be curious enough to inquire."
And this was actually done. The village headman was called on for his
services, and witnessed a declaration on the part of Cleanor that he
released the captain of the _Sphinx_ from his contract to carry him to
Philæ and the Second Cataract, and that he claimed no compensation or
return of the money or of any part of it for the non-fulfilment of the
conditions. This done, he made the captain and crew a present of a gold
piece, and saw with satisfaction that they departed to expend it at the
Canal Tavern. Shortly afterwards Cleanor hired a small rowing-boat, and
before long found himself again in Alexandria.
As to his general plan of operations he was quite clear. There was only
one plan of getting into Carthage. It was full of risk, but still it was
practicable. A brisk trade was being carried on from Alexandria in
blockade-running. Corn had long been at famine prices in the besieged
city. What was worth an ounce of silver on an Alexandrian quay could be
sold for at least half an ounce of gold in the markets of Carthage. If
only one ship-load out of three succeeded in escaping the Roman galleys
a magnificent profit was realized. The average of those ships that ran
the blockade was not smaller; it was probably higher. The new
harbour-mouth gave, as has been explained, a better chance.
Cleanor, then, was resolved to make his venture in a blockade-running
corn-ship. The question was, what disguise should he use? Fortune had
done something for him. The wound in his thigh had given him a limp.
During his illness a slight beard and a fairly thick moustache had
grown. These things meant a considerable change. More was effected by a
brown dye which gave him the complexion of an Arab. The character that
he thought it best to assume was that of pedlar. He provided himself
with suitable clothing and a pack, which last, however, he left for the
present unfilled.
As Egypt was in alliance with Rome the traders that followed the
business of blockade-running had to affect a certain disguise. The
cargoes were consigned to dealers in Italian ports, and the ships
themselves actually shaped their course for Italy, and kept on it as
long as possible, so as to minimize to the utmost the chances of
capture. The event of a passenger offering himself was rare, for the
destination of this class of corn-ships was an open secret. If, however,
one chanced to come, the captain could hardly refuse a passage. If he
was exceptionally honest he might put difficulties in the way; commonly
he left the stranger to find out his mistake, taking the precaution of
having the passage-money paid in advance.
Cleanor, who had put up for the night at a little tavern close to the
water-side, picked up a little information from the talk which was going
on round him. Improving his acquaintance with a sailor, who seemed the
most respectable of the somewhat miscellaneous company at the tavern, he
learnt a good deal more. Finally his new friend offered to introduce him
to the captain of the _Sea-mew_, a blockade-runner which was intending
to sail the following day.
"Dioscorides," said the sailor, "is an honest man in his way. He would
have taken your passage-money for Rhegium, it is true, and made no
scruple about carrying you to Carthage. That, you might say, is scarcely
fair. But then you are quite safe with him. He won't cut your throat and
throw you overboard for the sake of your pack. That's what I call
honesty in a sea-captain. If you want to find a finer article, you will
hardly get it on this side of the Pillars of Hercules. We will go on
board at the last moment, and I will give him a hint that it is all
straight."
The object of going on board so late was to show that the person
proposing himself as a passenger had no idea of lodging an information
against the ship with the agent of the Roman Republic.
On the following day, accordingly, this programme was carried out. The
_Sea-mew_ was taking on board the water wanted for the voyage, a part of
the preparations naturally left to the last, when Cleanor and his friend
reached the quay. A grizzled veteran, whose face was tanned by the suns
and winds of some fifty years of voyaging, was receiving his last
instructions from a keen-looking man, whose pale and unhealthy-looking
skin spoke of long confinement to the desk and the counting-house. The
conference over, Cleanor was introduced.
"My young friend here," said the sailor, "is going the same way as you
are. Cleanor, this is Dioscorides, the captain of the _Sea-mew_. You
could not sail with a better man; and you," he went on, turning to the
captain, "will find him an agreeable and accommodating passenger." The
word "accommodating" was emphasized by a wink.
"Good!" said the captain; "come and see your quarters. That is the last
water-cask, and now we are off."
He led the way as he spoke to the gangway that connected the quay-side
with the deck. In five minutes more the _Sea-mew_ was on her way
westward.
A little after noon, the _Sea-mew_ being now fairly started and making
good way with a strong breeze that was almost dead aft, the captain
invited his passenger to come below. The cabin was not spacious,--for
the vessel, though carrying cargo, was built for speed, her owners
having had in view the more risky kinds of trade,--but it was well
furnished, and the meal that was spread on the table was almost
sumptuous. The captain did not fail to observe his passenger's look of
surprise.
"In this business," he said, "a mina or two this way or that does not
make much odds. It is no use to save when you are going either to make
your fortune or be drowned, or, it may be, hanged."
"Possibly," replied Cleanor; "but a passenger is not in the same case. I
am afraid that such fare will not suit my modest means."
"Don't trouble yourself on that score," returned the captain. "Suppose
we say fifty drachmas for your passage-money, and ten more as a present
to the crew, if the voyage turns out to your liking."
"I am afraid that you will not gain much by me on these terms," said
Cleanor as he produced the money, which he had carefully made up out of
a variety of coins. He thought it safer to avoid any appearance of
wealth.
The voyage which followed was prosperous in the extreme. A west wind,
with just a touch of south in it, carried the _Sea-mew_ towards Italy,
which, as has been said, was nominally her destination, with a quite
surprising regularity of speed. She seldom made more than six miles in
the hour, but she did this day and night with little variation, and
without a single drawback. Her course lay just within view of the
African shore till Cyrene was sighted. Then the captain struck a bolder
course, nor did they come again within sight of land till a little
object showed itself in the northern horizon which was speedily
identified as Malta. Not long after they spoke a coral-fisher's
boat, from which they learnt that a Roman squadron, with the
commander-in-chief on board, had passed a couple of days before.
"If that is so," said the captain, "I shall steer straight for Carthage.
We are likely to have a clear course. It is scarcely likely that the
Roman cruisers will be prowling about for prizes in the wake of their
own squadron."
As they sat together at their supper, the only officer who messed with
them having gone on deck to superintend the setting of another sail, the
captain said to Cleanor:
"Don't suppose that I want to intrude on your private affairs, and if my
questions are inconvenient, or you have any reason whatever for
declining to say anything more about yourself, don't hesitate to tell
me. I sha'n't be offended or think the worse of you for it. On the other
hand, I may be able to help you or give you a hint. Now, to be quite
frank, I can't make you out. You wish to pass as a pedlar--excuse my
plainness of speech. Now, you are no more a pedlar than I am; not so
much, indeed, for you have never, I should say, either bought or sold
anything in your life. You talk like a gentleman. I could not do it
myself, but I know the real thing when I hear it. Now, what does it
mean?"
Cleanor had been long prepared for some such question as this. When he
adopted his disguise he had vaguely counted on being one among a crowd
of passengers, and able to keep himself as much in the background as he
pleased. In such a situation he might have sustained his character with
fair success. But it was a very different thing to sit _tête-à-tête_ for
a fortnight together with a shrewd man of business, who had been
accustomed to mix with all sorts and conditions of passengers. Cleanor
had felt from the first that it would be useless to maintain the
pretence, and he was prepared to abandon it if he should be challenged.
But he was not prepared to tell his true story. He had devised what he
could not help thinking a very plausible substitute for it.
"You are quite right, my good friend," he said, "I am not a pedlar.
Still, I hope to do a good stroke of business in Carthage."
"Business!" said the captain, opening his eyes wide. "I fancy this is a
poor time for business there."
"For buying, doubtless--I suppose they have to keep all their money for
food--but not for selling. That is what I am after. I have had a
commission from someone whose name I must not mention to buy books."
"Books!" repeated the old sailor in unfeigned astonishment; "who in the
world wants to buy books?"
"Well," said Cleanor, "there are people who have the taste. There are
some very valuable things of the kind in Carthage, taken, most of them,
from Greek cities in Sicily. My employer thought it a good opportunity
for picking up some bargains, and he has made it worth my while to go.
You see, books are not like gold and jewels. Most people don't see
anything in them. You yourself, though you have seen a good deal of the
world, could not understand anyone buying them. I am not likely, you
see, to be interfered with."
The sailor shrugged his shoulders.
"Well," he said, "everyone to his taste. However, now I understand how
it is that you don't talk like other pedlars. Good luck go with you!"
The captain was right in supposing that the sea would be clear in the
wake of the Roman squadron. He now matured a very bold design, which
wanted for its successful accomplishment only one element of good
fortune, an absolutely favourable wind. The _Sea-mew_ was one of the
fastest sailers in the Mediterranean, and with her own wind, which was a
point or so off aft, could do what she liked even with a well-manned
ship of war. The captain's plan was to hang closely, but just out of
range, on the skirts of the Roman squadron as they neared their
destination. This he could do without difficulty. Twenty galleys
presented a larger object to him than he to them, and he reckoned, with
a confidence that was not misplaced, that they would not keep a very
careful look-out aft. If a solitary sail was to heave in sight for a
moment it would probably attract no attention.
What was wanted was the right wind, and this, to his great joy, he got
just when it was wanted. The breeze, which for some hours had been due
north, shifted to W.N.W. The weather thickened a little, and to make the
lucky combination complete, the voyage came to an end a little after
nightfall. The _Sea-mew_, which for some hours had been keeping, under
shelter of the failing light, within two miles of the Roman squadron,
now came up close to the rearward galley. In the preoccupation of the
time she was practically unobserved. The _Sea-mew_ was built almost on
war-ship lines, and was flying Roman colours. No one certainly supposed
for a moment that she was an Alexandrian blockade-runner.
Two hours afterwards she was safe in the harbour of Carthage, and the
captain--he was owner as well as master--had realized a handsome
fortune. He had shipped one hundred and fifty tons of wheat and as much
barley at Alexandria, the wheat at one mina and a half[50] per ton, and
the barley for half as much, and he now sold the wheat for eight and the
barley for five minas per ton. The crew had a fourth of the gross
profits divided between them, but enough was left to enable the captain
to give up this very perilous kind of business for good and all.
"If I tempt the gods again after this I deserve to be crucified," he
said to his chief officer; and he kept his word.
FOOTNOTE:
50: A mina and a half are equivalent to £5, 5_s._, eight minas,
therefore, to £28, and five to £17, 10_s._ This allows,
reckoning the weight of wheat at 64 lbs. per bushel, a buying
price of 3_s._ 3_d._ (about) per bushel, and a selling price of
17_s._ for the wheat, and 1_s._ 7-1/2_d._ buying, and 11_s._
selling, for the barley. The highest price paid for wheat in
England during this century has been 14_s._ 3_d._ (1812), and
the lowest 2_s._ 3_d._ (1895). I will not trouble my readers
with the figures for the barley. Commonly it was much cheaper in
proportion to wheat than it is now. (So in Rev. vi. 6 we have,
"_A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley
for a penny_", a penny being the Roman _denarius_, or 9-1/2_d._)
We may calculate the gross profit of the voyage at £6660
(nearly), taking the mina as equal to £3, 10_s._ 3-3/4_d._, or
£5222 for the captain's share. The sum entitling a Roman citizen
to equestrian rank was £4000.