CHAPTER II
FROM THE BLACK SEA TO THE CASPIAN
- Off to sea again.'
— Shakespbare, Tempest, 1. 1. 63.
It was just daybreak when I was roused by a loud rap at my door and heard a voice call, ' Sir, wake up — there's a Russian steamer arrived in port and ready to start at ten o'clock for Sevastopol and Batum.' It was the voice of Demetriou, our Greek guide in Constantinople, whom we had stationed on watch the night before to bring news of any craft, even a lighter or a tank ship, that might convey us across the Black Sea before the regular mail steamer to Batum, which was not due to call for a week. The tidings were welcome, for they meant that we should save time in this way; and Demetriou, with an unwonted enthusiasm, due to early rising or late retiring, urged the advantages of a prompt start. With everything thus favorable, we lost no time in bundling our luggage together for the faithful courier to transfer from the hotel to the steamer, and we were soon ensconced on the after deck of the Pushkin long before the hour of sailing.
The morning was a glorious one, and it was Easter Sunday, a fortnight behind our own Easter according to the Russian calendar. Captain, officers, crew, and passengers alike seemed to feel in a holiday humor ; and every one, from the bridge to the forecastle, hailed the other with a kiss on both bearded cheeks as they met and exchanged good wishes for the Paschal season. The engines began to revolve, our prow headed north- eastward into the Bosporus, and we were off at last for a five days' voyage, coasting the northern shore of the Black Sea.
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