shipowner. Nothing affected him beyond commercial questions, not even the political side of the transactions, otherwise he was a perfectly loyal and honest man.
However, he could not lay claim to the idea of building and fitting up the Dolphin ; she belonged to his nephew, James Playfair, a fine young man of thirty, the boldest skipper of the British merchant marine.
It was one day at the Tontine coffee-room under the arcades of the town hall, that James Playfair, after having impatiently scanned the American journal, disclosed to his uncle an adventurous scheme.
“Uncle Vincent,” said he, coming to the point at once, “there are two millions of pounds to be gained in less than a month.”
“And what to risk?” asked Uncle Vincent.
“A ship and a cargo.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing, except the crew and the captain, and that does not reckon for much.”
“Let us see,” said Uncle Vincent.
“It is all seen,” replied James Playfair. “You have read the Tribune , the New York Herald, The Times , the Richmond Inquirer , the American Review ?”
“Scores of times, nephew.”
“You believe, like me, that the war of the United States will last a long time still?”
“A very long time.”
“You know how much this struggle will affect the interests of England, and especially those of Glasgow?”
“And more especially still the house of Playfair & Co.,” replied Uncle Vincent.
“Theirs especially,” added the young Captain.
“I worry myself about it every day, James, and I cannot think without terror of the commercial disasters which this war may produce; not but that the house of Playfair is firmly established, nephew; at the same time it has correspondents which may fail. Ah! those Americans, slave-holders or Abolitionists, I have no faith in them!”
If Vincent Playfair was wrong in thus speaking with respect to the great principles of humanity, always and everywhere superior to personal interests, he was, nevertheless, right from a commercial point of view. The most important material was failing at Glasgow, the cotton famine became every day more threatening, thousands of workmen were reduced to living upon public charity. Glasgow possessed 25,000 looms, by which 625,000 yards of cotton were spun daily; that is to say, fifty millions of pounds yearly. From these numbers it may be guessed what disturbances were caused in the commercial part of the town when the raw material failed altogether. Failures were hourly taking place, the manufactories were closed, and the workmen were dying of starvation.
It was the sight of this great misery which had put the idea of his bold enterprise into James Playfair’s head.
“I will go for cotton, and will get it, cost what it may.”
But, as he also was a merchant as well as his uncle Vincent, he resolved to carry out his plan by way of exchange, and to make his proposition under the guise of a commercial enterprise.
“Uncle Vincent,” said he, “this is my idea.”
“Well, James?”
“It is simply this: we will have a ship built of superior sailing qualities and great bulk.”
“That is quite possible.”
“We will load her with ammunition of war, provisions, and clothes.”
“Just so.”
“I will take the command of this steamer, I will defy all the ships of the Federal marine for speed, and I will run the blockade of one of the southern ports.”
“You must make a good bargain for your cargo with the Confederates, who will be in need of it,” said his uncle.
“And I shall return laden with cotton.”
“Which they will give you for nothing.”
“As you say, Uncle. Will it answer?”
“It will; but shall you be able to get there?”
“I shall, if I have a good ship.”
“One can be made on purpose. But the crew?”
“Oh, I will find them. I do not want many men; enough to work with, that is all. It is not a question of fighting with the Federals, but distancing them.”
“They shall be distanced,” said Uncle
However, he could not lay claim to the idea of building and fitting up the Dolphin ; she belonged to his nephew, James Playfair, a fine young man of thirty, the boldest skipper of the British merchant marine.
It was one day at the Tontine coffee-room under the arcades of the town hall, that James Playfair, after having impatiently scanned the American journal, disclosed to his uncle an adventurous scheme.
“Uncle Vincent,” said he, coming to the point at once, “there are two millions of pounds to be gained in less than a month.”
“And what to risk?” asked Uncle Vincent.
“A ship and a cargo.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing, except the crew and the captain, and that does not reckon for much.”
“Let us see,” said Uncle Vincent.
“It is all seen,” replied James Playfair. “You have read the Tribune , the New York Herald, The Times , the Richmond Inquirer , the American Review ?”
“Scores of times, nephew.”
“You believe, like me, that the war of the United States will last a long time still?”
“A very long time.”
“You know how much this struggle will affect the interests of England, and especially those of Glasgow?”
“And more especially still the house of Playfair & Co.,” replied Uncle Vincent.
“Theirs especially,” added the young Captain.
“I worry myself about it every day, James, and I cannot think without terror of the commercial disasters which this war may produce; not but that the house of Playfair is firmly established, nephew; at the same time it has correspondents which may fail. Ah! those Americans, slave-holders or Abolitionists, I have no faith in them!”
If Vincent Playfair was wrong in thus speaking with respect to the great principles of humanity, always and everywhere superior to personal interests, he was, nevertheless, right from a commercial point of view. The most important material was failing at Glasgow, the cotton famine became every day more threatening, thousands of workmen were reduced to living upon public charity. Glasgow possessed 25,000 looms, by which 625,000 yards of cotton were spun daily; that is to say, fifty millions of pounds yearly. From these numbers it may be guessed what disturbances were caused in the commercial part of the town when the raw material failed altogether. Failures were hourly taking place, the manufactories were closed, and the workmen were dying of starvation.
It was the sight of this great misery which had put the idea of his bold enterprise into James Playfair’s head.
“I will go for cotton, and will get it, cost what it may.”
But, as he also was a merchant as well as his uncle Vincent, he resolved to carry out his plan by way of exchange, and to make his proposition under the guise of a commercial enterprise.
“Uncle Vincent,” said he, “this is my idea.”
“Well, James?”
“It is simply this: we will have a ship built of superior sailing qualities and great bulk.”
“That is quite possible.”
“We will load her with ammunition of war, provisions, and clothes.”
“Just so.”
“I will take the command of this steamer, I will defy all the ships of the Federal marine for speed, and I will run the blockade of one of the southern ports.”
“You must make a good bargain for your cargo with the Confederates, who will be in need of it,” said his uncle.
“And I shall return laden with cotton.”
“Which they will give you for nothing.”
“As you say, Uncle. Will it answer?”
“It will; but shall you be able to get there?”
“I shall, if I have a good ship.”
“One can be made on purpose. But the crew?”
“Oh, I will find them. I do not want many men; enough to work with, that is all. It is not a question of fighting with the Federals, but distancing them.”
“They shall be distanced,” said Uncle
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