officers lead them on board that ship, and get her under weigh
immediately. There is no time to be lost. You'll have something to
learn, probably; but that does not matter--it is my will--do it."

The poor colonel knew that there was no use expostulating. The men were
ordered aloft--cocked hats, jack-boots, and spurs. Up they went, the
upper ones with their dreadful spurs catching those following by eyes,
or noses, or mouths; and the surprising thing was that any got up at
all. There is, however, nothing that a Russian cannot do, in a way,
when put to it. The topsails were at length loosed, the anchor was got
up, and the ship was actually under weigh; but where she went to, or if
she ever went anywhere at all, their friend could not exactly say.

All this time the steamer was passing among the Russian men-of-war.
Some of them were huge, towering line-of-battle ships, and all of them,
outwardly at least, were in prime order. At length the steamer ran in
past a high white tower between two piers, the screw stopped, she was
hauled alongside a wharf, and the voyage was ended. Instantly she was
filled with men in grey and blue uniforms. They were custom-house
officers, who came professedly to prevent smuggling, but in reality to
collect any fees they could pick up.

The travellers now heard for the first time the incomprehensible sounds
of the Russian language, while their eyes were amused with the various
and strange costumes of the wild-looking shouting people who surrounded
them. Some of the officers had shaven chins, but most of the people had
long beards, and straggling hair flowing from beneath their caps; but,
unattractive as were their countenances generally, they wore an aspect
of good-nature and simplicity which made amends for their ugliness.

In a short time a little steamer came alongside the _Ladoga_, into which
the passengers and their luggage were transferred, to be conveyed up to
Saint Petersburg under charge of a party of the militarily-equipped
custom-house officers. The little satellite shoved off from the side of
the big steamer, the master stood on the taffrail with his hat in his
hand, the passengers waved theirs; and thus they bade farewell, most of
them for ever, to the ill-fated _Ladoga_. After leaving the mole, they
passed along the wharves of the Imperial Dockyard, within which were
collected a great number of line-of-battle ships and frigates laid up in
ordinary, which, as Fred said