knew a sliding panel in the back of the locker provided for just such exigencies, so with an easy conscience we watched the red wax and seal being placed on our supply of cheer. In the meantime I was told, as usual, that I could not leave the boat, and on coming on deck found two bayoneted sentinels marching up and down the decks, just to show that the order meant business. But while I was arguing my case with the officer in charge, a boat, rowed by four uniformed sailors, came alongside. It was the American Vice Consul Stuart, who, seeing the big American ship’s flag flying at the fore, had started out as soon as we had anchored. We nearly embraced on the deck. At least, I did, for it was good to see someone from a civilized land, though I learned that Stuart was an Englishman and only acting consul. He seemed glad to see us, and stated that it was the first American flag that he had seen in behind the breakwater during the eighteen years that he had been in Batuum, an interesting if somewhat depressing bit of information to an American who likes to feel that his country’s flag is at least known by sight in all quarters of the globe. The consul at Trebizond had given me some grouse to present to Stuart, and after these had been thoroughly investigated and passed upon by the examiner, a permit was given for them to be passed. Stuart evidently had a strong pull with the government, for he quickly arranged with the officer that the sentries were to be withdrawn, and that I and any member of my crew might come and go at our own sweet will. After the dreary inspection was over, my newly acquired friend came down and took lunch with us, and little by little I drew from him fragments of that crazy quilt of actions and counter-actions, assassinations and executions, revolutions and suppressions that in Russia masquerade under the name of current politics.