In fact, when the water was calm, the moment the ebb-tide set in, the workmen began to operate. Their mallets kept perfect time falling on the wedges meant to raise the ship’s keel: soon a shudder ran through the whole of her massive structure; although she had only been slightly raised, one could see that she shook, and then gradually began to glide down the well-greased wedges, and in a few moments she plunged into the Clyde. Her stern struck the muddy bed of the river, then she raised herself on the top of a gigantic wave, and, carried forward by her start, would have been dashed against the quay of the Govan timber-yards, if her anchors had not restrained her.

      The launch had been perfectly successful, the “Dolphin” swayed quietly on the waters of the Clyde, all the spectators clapped their hands when she took possession of her natural clement, and loud hurrahs arose from either bank.

      But wherefore these cries and this applause? Undoubtedly the most eager of the spectators would have been at a loss to explain the reason of his enthusiasm. What was the cause, then, of the lively interest excited by this ship? Simply the mystery which shrouded her destination; it was not known to what kind of commerce she was to be appropriated, and in questioning different groups the diversity of opinion on this important subject was indeed astonishing.

      However, the best informed, at least those who pretended to be so, agreed in saying that the steamer was going to take part in the terrible war which was then ravaging the United States of America, but more than this they did not know, and whether the “Dolphin” was a privateer, a transport ship, or an addition to the Federal marine, was what no one could tell.

      “Hurrah!” cried one, affirming that the “Dolphin” had been built for the Southern States.

      “Hip! hip! hip!” cried another, swearing that never had a faster boat crossed to the American coasts.

      Thus its destination was unknown, and in order to obtain any reliable information one must be an intimate friend, or, at any rate, an acquaintance of Vincent Playfair and Co., of Glasgow.

      A rich, powerful, intelligent house of business was that of Vincent Playfair and Co., in a social sense, an old and honourable family, descended from those tobacco lords who built the finest quarters of the town. These clever merchants, by an act of the Union, had founded the first Glasgow warehouse for dealing in tobacco from Virginia and Maryland. Immense fortunes were realized; mills and foundries sprang up in all parts, and in a few years the prosperity of the city attained its height.

      The house of Playfair remained faithful to the enterprising spirit of its ancestors, it entered into the most daring schemes, and maintained the honour of English commerce. The principal, Vincent Playfair, a man of fifty, with a temperament essentially practical and decided, although somewhat daring, was a genuine 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 arc 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 and 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, slaveholders 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 in 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 live 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?”