city some miles out of Baku, called by the natives "Tchortorgorod," or
"City of the Devil." "In calm, sunny weather," said Z----, "one can
distinctly make out the streets and houses." The German Jew, of a
facetious disposition, asked him whether he had not also seen people
walking about; but Z---- treated the question with contemptuous
silence.

Man is doomed to disappointment. I woke at daylight next morning; to
find the _Kaspia_ at anchor, pitching, rolling, and tugging at her
moorings as if at any moment the cable might part. Every now and again
a sea would crash upon the deck, and the wind, howling through the
rigging, sounded like the yelling of a thousand fiends. Hurrying on
deck, I learn the worst. A terrific sea is running, and the glass
falling every hour. One could scarcely discern, through the driving
mist, the long low shore and white line of breakers that marked the
entrance to Enzelli. To land was out of the question. No boat would
live in such a sea. "I will lay-to till this evening," said Captain
Z---- "If it does not then abate, I fear you must make up your mind
to return to Baku, and try again another day." A pleasant prospect
indeed!

[Illustration: A DIRTY NIGHT IN THE CASPIAN]

I have seldom passed a more miserable twenty-four hours. The weather
got worse as the day wore on. Towards midday it commenced snowing; but
this, instead of diminishing the violence of the gale, seemed only to
increase it. Even the captain's cheery, ruddy face clouded over, as he
owned that he did not like the look of things. "Had I another anchor,
I should not mind," he said; calmly adding, "If this one parts, we
are lost!" I thought, at the time, he might have kept this piece