The House in Bobbinsky Prospekt
"I'll risk it, Macquare," decided the Hon. Derek. "The
responsibility's mine. If we are able to effect repairs and get away
before the Baltic is closed by the ice we'll be able to do a little
strafing on our own account. In that case I don't suppose I'll be
rapped over the knuckles if we get home. If we don't, well--we shan't
be alive, and official reprimand won't worry us then."
"I agree, sir," said the Lieutenant. "Obeying orders is all very well
in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. In the present instance the
Admiralty hasn't taken into consideration our defects. The
instructions were issued, I presume, on the assumption that we are in
working trim."
"Yes," concurred the Hon. Derek. "And, knocked about as we are, it
wouldn't be fair on the men to attempt to run the gauntlet of the
Sound. They'd go like a shot, I'm absolutely convinced, but I'm
hanged if I'll sacrifice them needlessly. So, all being well,
Cronstadt is our next port of call."
Dawn was breaking when R19, piloted by the Russian destroyer
_Zabiyaka_, came within sight of the supposedly-impregnable island
fortress. Everywhere the numerous fort-batteries were displaying the
flag of the Republic, while to show that watch and ward were still
being kept a couple of shots were fired wide of the destroyer.
Presently an armed launch put out and a brisk exchange of words took
place between the port officials and the Captain-Lieutenant of the
_Zabiyaka_, which ended in the latter rather reluctantly ordering the
Blue Cross Ensign to be struck and replaced by the emblem of Red
Republicanism.
This done, the destroyer was ordered to proceed to a certain
anchorage, while R19, under the charge of a Russian pilot, entered
the naval arsenal.
Here lay the bulk of the Russian Baltic Fleet, many of the ships
bearing evidences of German gun-fire. A large proportion of the crews
had gone to Petrograd to take part in a demonstration; others had
deserted in order to return to their homes and join in the general
policy of grab; while those who remained were promenading the streets
and quays, singing revolutionary songs and drinking deeply of vodka.
"See what liberty, equality, and fraternity do for a nation,
Fordyce," remarked the Hon. Derek, indicating a group of roysterers
gathered round a barrel on the quarter-deck of a large battleship.
Utterly indifferent to the presence of their officers, the seamen
were already in advanced stages of intoxication. Any attempt to
enforce discipline would doubtless result in ghastly butchery, for
already the crews of certain ships had risen and murdered their
officers.
"A good object-lesson for British pacifists, sir," rejoined Fordyce.
"And these fellows don't seem particularly favourably-disposed
towards us."
"No, indeed," said the Lieutenant-Commander. "However, we must find
out how the land lies. The main point is to get material; we can then
execute the work ourselves, for it is a moral cert. that there isn't
a Russian workman available."
The Hon. Derek's surmise proved to be correct, for when an appeal for
assistance was made to the newly-appointed commandant of the arsenal
the request was met with scant consideration. German gold and Hun
propaganda had done their work effectively, and already there was a
strong anti-British feeling amongst the soldiers, sailors, and
workmen.
Enquiries resulted in the information that already the other British
submarines had left, while the armoured-car detachments operating on
the Eastern Front were under orders for Archangel and home. Until
Russia found her feet and her reason the assistance of her allies
would be utterly wasted.
Undeterred, R19's crew set to work to make good defects. Since no dry
dock was available, the task of removing the bent hydroplane had to
be carried out by her own divers. Ashore, a small workshop had been
placed at their disposal, and a limited quantity of material was
forthcoming. Provided no hitch occurred, the Hon. Derek hoped to have
his command ready for sea within a fortnight.
"Look here, Fordyce," he remarked one morning, "I want you to take
this dispatch to the Embassy. There's no immediate hurry, so if you
care to spend a few days in Petrograd you may. If you do, keep your
eyes and ears open."
"Thank you, sir!" replied the Sub. "I may have the chance of calling
on Vladimir Klostivitch."
"By Jove, yes!" exclaimed the Lieutenant-Commander. "I'd forgotten
all about that consignment of 'diamonds'. It's a dangerous business,
I fancy. It was not at all unusual for a man to disappear in Russia
during the Imperial regime. Under the republic the opportunities for
removing a person would be far greater. What do you propose to do?"
"Carry out the original suggestion, sir," replied Fordyce. "Hand
Klostivitch a dummy packet, and then try to bluff him into giving
details of the Russian Anarchist Society in London. The chief thing
is, I take it, to find out where this nitro-talcite is secretly
manufactured. Obviously it is somewhere in England, or there wouldn't
be such a fuss made to smuggle the stuff into Russia."
"Quite right," agreed the Hon. Derek. "For my part I wouldn't trouble
if they blew themselves to bits. It would be one solution of the
difficulty. Of far more importance is the discovery of the place of
manufacture, since the explosive would be of considerable use against
friend Fritz. But, look here, I don't like the idea of your tackling
the business single-handed. If I weren't compelled to remain here, as
skipper of this craft, I'd go with you like a shot. How about
Macquare?"
"He'd jump at it, sir; only a similar objection holds. As an
executive officer he cannot well be spared. Might I take Chalmers?"
"By all means, providing he is willing," agreed the
Lieutenant-Commander. "You'd have to introduce him, I take it, as a
British sympathizer and delegate. All right; speak to him, and make
your own arrangements."
The petty officer accepted the invitation with alacrity, even before
Fordyce explained what was required of him.
"It's quite all jonnick, sir," he declared when the Sub outlined his
plan. "If needs be I'd trot along rigged up as a chimpanzee or a
Hottentot. And if there's a chance of a scrap, I'm on it."
"I don't think there will be, Chalmers," replied the Sub. "Tact and
discretion are what is required."
So it was arranged that Fordyce should go as the mouthpiece of the
supposed delegate. On the supposition that Klostivitch knew nothing
of the English language, there would then be very little chance of
the redoubtable petty officer "giving himself away".
The two adventurers journeyed to Petrograd in a Russian steamer that
ran regularly between Cronstadt and the capital. With them went
Naval-Lieutenant Rodsky, who, his present task completed, was on his
way to report at the Flying School.
The Russian was openly despondent at the state of affairs in his
country. Like thousands, perhaps millions, of his countrymen, he
deeply regretted the revolution, and longed for the return of the
Little Father from his exile in far-off Tobolsk. While admitting that
there were grave defects in the administration of his country under
the rule of the Tsar, he realized that then Russia was a nation. Now
it was but a heterogeneous collection of undeveloped races, loosely
held by a corrupt, quarrelsome, and incapable body of
self-constituted rulers, and fast slipping into the gulf of utter
ruin.
Having delivered his dispatch, Fordyce was able to obtain quarters
for himself and Chalmers at the home of a British resident. In a
sense it was fortunate that the hitherto elaborate police system of
espionage had been swept away, and consequently the two men had no
difficulty in obtaining civilian clothes. Fordyce would have liked to
have brought his faithful dog, but in this matter he had been
overruled by his sense of caution. A visitor from England would not
go to the trouble and expense of bringing a dog with him. So Flirt
was left on board under the care of the ship's company in general,
and Able Seaman Cassidy in particular.
No. 19 Bobbinsky Prospekt was a three-storied stone house in the
Vassili Ostroff quarter of the capital. Adjoining it on the left was
a slightly lower building. On the right a frozen stream separated it
from a shop, the shuttered windows of which were riddled with
bullet-holes. Electric trams were running along the Prospekt, each
car carrying a machine-gun and a crew of Red Republican guards. At
either end of the roadway were evidences of recent street fighting,
for the hastily-constructed barricades were still partly in
existence.
"Now for it, Chalmers!" exclaimed Fordyce, as he knocked boldly with
the rusty iron knocker.