RUNNING THE GAUNTLET.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 5372, 15 June 1878, Page 1 (Supplement)

RUNNING THE GAUNTLET.

An Episode op the Russo-Tobkish Wau op 1770.

“ Captain, what you propose is impossible.” “Admiral, it’s possible-enough to any man who has pluck.” With these bitter words on their lips, two men stand facing each other on the quarterdeck of the Russian flag-ship Vladimir, as she lies at anchor off the coast of Asia Minor. The one, who wears the uniform of a Russian admiral, is a man of colossal stature and proportions, with a broad, heavy, unmeaning face, which shows that his intellect is not on a par with his bodily strength. The other is a short, square, muscular figure, with a firm mouth and keen grey eye—formerly Lieutenant Elphinstone, of the British navy, but now in command of the frigate Yekaterina, in the Russian Black Sea fleet; and the superior to whom he was speaking so unceremoniously is no other than the Imperial Admiral himself, Count Gregory Gregorievitch Orioff, the first and basest of the countless favorites of Catherine 111, a man whose worthless name has been rescued from oblivion by one great crime—the murder of Peter 111. .

It is the morning of July 8, 1770. The bright blue waters of Tchesmo Bay are cumbered with half-burned spars and masses of shattered timber ; the warm, dreamy summer sky overhead is. blotted with drifting smoke, and along the surrounding hills bare-legged men in white turbans are hurrying to and fro i with looks of dismay, and muttering to each other that the Padishah’s warships have been destroyed by the “ Giaours” of the north. Last night, with a single fire-ship, this short, keeneyed, blunt-spoken captain burned every vessel in the Turkish squadron, and he is now vainly urging his phlegmatic Admiral to follow up the victory by a dash through the Dardanelles upon defenceless Constantinople. “ I tell you, Englishman,” growls Orioff, “ that I will not send the Empress’s fleet to certain destruction in attempting an impregnable passage, just to please you 1” “ And I toll, your Excellency,” retorts the other, “ that what you fear, to attempt 1 with the whole fleet,’ I will do with one vessel. I’ll run. my ship through this ‘ impregnable passage’ of yours, and drink the health of the British navy in front of the Sultan’s own palace. Good morning !” Arrived on board of his own vessel, Captain Elphinstone mustered his drew, a motley mixture of sallow, broad-faced Russians, squat, yellow-haired Eins, big-boned, bottle-browed Esthonians, and slim, wiry Greeks, with two or three brawny, red-whiskered, English sailors looking down . upon their comrades with a grand compassionate disdain, as creatures whom an inscrutable Providence has doomed to bo foreigners, thereby cutting them off, once and tor ever, from aU chance of becoming good seamen. The captain eyes them all as they come aft, with the look of one accustomed to judge men at sight, aud then speaks briefly, but very much to the purpose ; ' “My lads, I’m going to run through the Dardanelles, and fly my flag in the face of those lubbers at Constantinople. It any man’s afraid to come with me, lot him stand out and say so !” ' • But not a man moves. Tho crew are all picked men, who have followed their’ present leader through many a hot fight and a heavy storm; and they have long since learned to know him as the real soul of tho fleet nominally commanded by their incompetent _ admiral. At the very mention of Constantinople, there is a sudden light in every eye, which tho veteran is not at a loss to interpret.

“ All right," said he, with a grim smile ; “it you’re game to poke your heads into tho fire,- I’m not the man to baulk yon. Mr. Dugdale, servo out a double rjitlou all rouud, and then set every stitch of canvas on her, and away we goj ” f #

. It is a beautiful summer morning, with n fresh breeze from" the south-west, when the devoted ship comes up to. the mouth of the terrible passage through which no hostile vessel has ever ventured before. The sun is just rising over.the Anatolian mountains, and in its dazzling splendor tho wood crowned islets and rooks,' shores, and green sloping hillsides stand forth in all their beauty. All around, the blue sparkling sea pill above, the, rich summer sky. To the west, the. little purple island of Tenedos stands watching their advance, as it watched the coming of Agamemnon's fleet against "doomed Troy, 3000 yews ago. Far to

the,-north-east, hanging like a snowy cloud upoa*ihe sky, towers the great white dome of Mount; Olympus. On the right, beyond the wide belt of level plain on which Greek and Trojan battled in the old fighting days, the distant mountains loom out, blue and.shadowy, along the eastern horizon ; whiio right in front the deep narrow channel of the famous strait curves outward to the sea between the bold ridges that flank it on either side. “ We’re lucky with the wiud, Mr. Dugdale,” said the captain to his English second in command, as cheerily as if he were going on a picnic, instead of into the jaws of naval Balaklaya.: “This breeze is Just what we want, for there’ll be a pretty strong current against us inside.” “ Mr. Turk seems to have taken the alarm already,” answered the lieutenant, with a chuckle, pointing to a group of hurrying figures just vanishing over the hill-top on the right. “Do you think, sir, they’ll bo able to hurt us much ? ”

“ Can’t say,” replied the veteran, coolly ; but I should think not, myself. You see, when they made these batteries, they didn’t arm them with regular guns, but tunnelled holes in the rooks themselves, and crammed them.,, with powder and ball like a pack of greenhorns as they are ; so if we don’t come right into the line of fire, they can’t alter Ihe range ,to hit us—that’s oue good job. It’s only the moveable guns that we need be afraid of. Starboard.”

“ Starboard it is !” responds the deep voice of the steersman ; and the gallant ship sweeps rejoicingly into the fatal channel, whence, if the Turkish batteries be such as report speaks them, neither ship nor crew will ever return. All along the hills on either side, red-capped soldiers are hurrying to and fro, bayonets glittering, sabres flashing, artillery wheels throwing up clouds of dust, while cries of mingled rage aud terror come faintly to their ears as they sweep by. But the crack of cannon shot which they momentarily expected never comes. Turkish neglect has done its accustomed work. Honeycombed guns, rickety carriages, crumbling earthworks, sanded gunpowder, balls that will not fit the bore of their pieces—what can be done with means like these? And if the Turkish squadron be destroyed (aud it must be, or the Russian flag would not be flying here) what resistance can we make to the enemy’s whole fleet ? So argue the faint-hearted among the defenders ; but there are men there of another oast—men for whom it suffices that the enemy is before them, and that they are Turkish soldiers. As the adventurous ship sweeps round the sharp curve that hides Abydos from sight, Lieutenant Dugdale, looking up in his leader's face, sees it harden suddenly like congealed metal, as the ready spyglass turns up a huge grey mass of bare rook that looms out some distance ahead of them. “ See those red caps bobbing in and out of the rocks like rabbits ? They are going to give us a shot in passing, sure enough. That’s one of the tunnel batteries I spoke of, and if one of those 300-pounder shots hits us, to the bottom we go, every man ! Set the stunsails, boys—we’ll run past and chance it. Onward sweeps the noble vessel before the freshening breeze ; but keen eyes are watching her from behind those frowning crags, and just as she comes opposite the fatal spot, the match is applied to the powder. For oue moment the life of every man on board hangs by a hair ; . but the discharge “ baulks ” an instant, and that instant is sufficient to save them. The next moment comes a crash as if the earth were rent asunder —a sheet of flame spouts from the black, yawning mouth—then there is a deafening splash, and a torrent of water bursts over the stern, drenching all who stand near it. The ball, a huge mass of stone weighing over 3001bs. has fallen barely ten feet behind them !

“ Near shave that,” says the captain, coolly ; “ but a miss is as good as a mile, anyhow.” Away, away, past green, sunny slopes checkered with massive buttresses o£ grey rook ; past steep crumbling ridges, on which tiny black goats are hanging like flies ; past cool sheltered inlets sleeping in floating shadows, till at length the straggling white streets and tumble-down fortifications of Gallipoli start up suddenly along a grassy headland in front of them, in the glory of the evening sunlight. A wild clamor of mingled outcries along the shore—a passing vision of dark, fierce faces and hurrying figures, and weapons brandished in vain menace—-an ineffectual crackle of musketry from the nearest angle of the wall—and then the last peril is past, and before them lies the open sea. As they round the point, the English cabin boy—- a lad after Captain Marryatt’s own heart—springs upon the bulwarks, and putting his thumb to his nose, in a vulgar but expressive gesture, shouts to the baffled assailants : “ Good-bye, .Johnny ! Any message for Constantinople ?” And the daring band, echoing the taunt with a shout of laughter, sweeps up towards the point where, opening out broad and bright between the receding shore, lies the smooth surface of the Sea of Marmora. Night overtakes them as they enter, it ; but Captain Elphinstone is not here for the first time; he holds his course unswervingly through the darkness, with but one thought in his mind —to reach Constantinople. All night the brave south-westerly wind fills their sails, as if cheering them on; and with the first gleam of sunrise they pass the green curving , shores of Prince’s Islands,” and see before them, outspread for many miles along the blue, shining sea, the serried roofs and tall white minarets and stately mosques and countless palaces of imperial Constantinople. At this early hour but few persons are yet abroad, but the sight of the terrible Russian flag suffices to arouse the whole capital. Not a gun mounted on the seaward batteries—not a regiment in fighting order—the enemy’s first ship already in sight, and the rest doubtless close behind—well may Constantinople tremble 1 Within less than half-an-hour every street leading down to the harbor is one roaring swarm of struggling figures and convulsed faces, livid with fear or black with rage ; and a mingled uproar of cries of dismay, savage curses on the “ Muscov,” wild prayers to Allah and the Prophet, and blood-thirsty yells for the heads of the Grand Vizier and his officers, rend the very air. And then, in the; midst of all the maddening din, ace heard the quick, -stern tones of Captain Elphinstone’s voice : « Nikolai, bring me up a bottle of rum, and some sugar, and hot water—sharp ?” . The Greek steward, himself an old privateersman, obeyed with a grin of unfeigned delight on his scarred face, and, the crew, clustered on the forecastle, bend forward to see their leader drink his toast in the teeth of all Constantinople. The grog is mixed with an unfaltering hand ; the captain rises from his seat, and turning towards the ragged thousands which line the shore, shouts at the full pitch of his mighty voice— ( ■ “ Success to Old England and her navy, and may every Turkish lubber go straight to the bottom !” Ho drains the tumbler as he and flinging it scornfully towards the infuriated Turks, calls to his lieutenant— , “Now, Mr. Dugdale, put her head about, and off wo go again,” “ What, without giving 'em even one broadside ?” says the astonished officer. “What’s the good of killing poor beggars who can’t resist ?" answers the stout-hearted sailor; “besides, d’ye think I'm going to do the Russians’ work for ’em, if they haven’t the pluck to do it themselves ? The minutelsee that old porpoise of an admiral again I’ll - just chuck my; commission in his face ; I’m not going to servo any longer with a pack of lubbers who daren't'take a good chance when its offered them !”

Captain Blphiustoue kept his word, and the Russian navy saw him no more. Little did the simple-hearted hero think that he had done a deed whose fame should endure for ever; and as little could ho foresee, that it would bo surpassed, a century later, by another seaman on the opposite side of the world, whoso name was Admiral Earragut.— Cassell's Magazine.