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 Vincent, in a peremptory tone; "but now, tell me, James, to what port of the American coast do you think of going?" "Up to now, Uncle, ships have run the blockade of New Orleans, Wilmington, and Savannah, but I think of going straight to Charleston; no English boat has yet been able to penetrate into the harbour, except the _Bermuda_. I will do like her, and, if my ship draws but very little water, I shall be able to go where the Federalists will not be able to follow." "The fact is," said Uncle Vincent, "Charleston is overwhelmed with cotton; they are even burning it to get rid of it." "Yes," replied James; "besides, the town is almost invested; Beauregard is running short of provisions, and he will pay me a golden price for my cargo!" "Well, nephew, and when will you start?" "In six months; I must have the long winter nights to aid me."