Back to the Sea
In the time of Catherine II. a baron of the Von Ungern family, in the
province of Brandenburg, migrated to the court of St. Petersburg. He
had some Slavonic blood in his veins, and shortly after settling in
the Russian capital he married the daughter of a Muscovite nobleman.
His wife's dowry brought him several extensive estates in Volhynia.
In spite of their German name his two sons were perfect Russians. The
elder, Feodor, was a naval officer. He was a thorough seaman, and the
terror of every Swedish seaport and merchantman. Zeno, the younger
brother, was also a seaman, but his tactical abilities were exercised
only at court, and particularly among the ladies. The fame of the
elder brother naturally lent brilliancy to Zeno's name also. Feodor,
however, willingly left to him all the pleasures of court life and all
its dazzling distinctions. Such things were not for him. The
storm-tossed sea and its perilous combats were for Feodor his chiefest
joy. Yet, when storm and fight alike were lulled to rest, he loved his
quiet home--a little castle buried in an old forest, where his dear
and beautiful wife dwelt with her little son. The boy, whose name was
Alexander, was now four years old, and the father was not less proud
of his domestic fortune than of his naval laurels.
Feodor had just accomplished one of his most heroic exploits against
the Swedes. One stormy night he had suddenly surprised the convoy
fleet at Karlskrona and burnt a large portion of it. He had captured
several richly laden merchant-ships which tried hard to get out of
range, plundered them of their most valuable contents, and then sent
them to the bottom. He had also carried off the magnificent bell which
had been taken by the Swedes from Hamburg city, and was then on its
way to adorn the cathedral of Kalmar. Then he returned, unmolested,
with booty and fame to Kronstadt.
Upon arriving there he considered it his first duty to deliver an
account of his actions to the Admiral of the fleet. At that time the
shore at Kronstadt was covered with a great number of small huts
inhabited by the workmen in the port. As Captain Feodor leaped ashore
from his boat, a girl, who had been watching the spot for some time,
came out of one of the huts and approached him. The girl was young and
pretty, and was dressed in the picturesque costume of the Volhynian
women. She hurried up to the officer and seized his hand to kiss it.
He recognised her immediately as his little son's nurse.
"What!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Mashinka! Why, what brings you
here?"
The girl raised her finger to her lips and glanced timorously round
about. Only when she had assured herself that there was no one
listening did she begin to speak.
"Oh, my Master!" she exclaimed in a low tone; "have a care! Muffle
yourself in your cloak! If you are recognised here you will certainly
be taken!"
"Taken!" cried the Captain. "What foolishness is this, Mashinka? Why
should any one wish to take me, think you?"
"Why!" echoed the girl. "To make you dig for lead in the Urals, most
likely. You are an outlaw!"
"Are you raving, woman?" asked Feodor. "What crime have I committed?"
"That you will soon learn," replied Mashinka. "Last winter did you
not shelter Krazinski in your house?"
"Krazinski! Why, he was a dear friend of mine--a brother-in-arms of
the old days."
"That may be. But now they say he is a conspirator."
"But what is that to me? I knew nothing of that then. He came to the
castle for the hunting, and after having had as much of that as he
wanted he went off again. But I see I had better go off to the Court
at once and tell them all about the matter."
"Nay, Master; go not there!" whispered the girl imploringly. "There
you have a most powerful enemy whom your death alone will pacify."
"An enemy! Who is he?" asked Feodor in surprise.
"Your brother," replied Mashinka.
"What! Zeno?--he whom I loved so much that I made over to him my
inheritance and even the title of Count as well, reserving only a
minor's portion for myself?"
"Ay; and now he means to have that portion also," said Mashinka. "He
has seized your castle in the forest; and even that seaman's whistle
at your breast--he has already been promised that."
"Well, well! Fool that I am!" muttered Feodor. "Was he not all his
life a miserable cur? After all, it is not to be wondered at. But what
can he know of Krazinski?"
"This much--that Krazinski, in leaving, forgot to take with him a
certain leather writing-case, and that it contained many dangerous
papers."
"But I myself delivered that case to my wife, in order that she might
take charge of it until Krazinski should demand it. She was to give it
up to no one else."
"And yet, she has given it up to your brother. And because of that you
have been outlawed."
"My wife!" exclaimed Captain Feodor, turning pale.
"She only was your wife. Now she is your brother's. Whoever is
banished for life to the Ural mines is at the same time separated for
ever from his wife, and she can at once marry again. That is how it
happened. You were too long gone, and love in absence, they say, is
difficult."
"But she had her son!" cried the Captain in a tone of agony. "Was not
he enough to love? And such a son, too! Tell me, what have they done
with my son?"
"You know well the custom, surely? When the father is banished the
child is outlawed also. Son must follow father, and in order that he
may never return, he is branded with a red-hot iron on the shoulder."
The Captain seemed about to reply, but the words died away upon his
lips.
Suddenly he seized the girl's shoulders in his powerful grasp, and
began to stare intently into her eyes. For it is a common belief in
Volhynia that there are many unhappy mortals possessed by the Evil One
in such a way that he takes up his abode in their eyeballs. Then, by
means of all manner of phantoms and illusions, he causes them to "see
the things that are not." About such sights the victims talk as if
they were perfectly real. But it is believed that if a truly brave and
upright man who fears not the Evil One seizes the possessed person
firmly by the shoulders, gazes unflinchingly into the bewitched eyes
until he perceives the demon lurking within, and then quickly and
unexpectedly spits into them--then the Evil Spirit is confounded and
flies in confusion from the possessed one's eyes. Thus did Captain
Feodor.
"Ah, yes! It may be--it may, indeed, be so," said the girl resignedly,
as she wiped her eyes with the hem of her apron. "Often have I asked
myself whether all I have seen and heard is not merely falsehood and
deceit. It may be all the devil's work. Oh, would to God it were so! I
would bless you every day of my life for driving the curse out of me.
But, Master, I beseech you, cross the threshold of that hut and look
within. If you see nothing, then the Evil One has indeed been at his
juggling tricks with me, making me see and speak the things that are
not."
Feodor stepped into the tumble-down hut to which Mashinka had pointed.
The first thing that met his gaze was his little son lying on a heap
of dirty straw. The little shirt had slipped down over one shoulder,
and upon this the mark of the branding-iron was clearly seen. Feodor
knelt down, buried his face in the straw beside the boy, and clasped
him in his arms. But he uttered no cry and shed no tear.
"Why, my good Master," said the girl, "surely you, too, have become
possessed, and see things that do not exist."
Meantime the child did not cry. He trembled violently; for fear, and
pain, and fever were working together. The father wrapped him in his
cloak, and laid him tenderly across his knees.
"Now listen," said Mashinka, "to all that the Evil One must have put
into my eyes and ears, if, indeed, it is all nothing but his black
magic. Your own steward had orders to bring all your treasure in a
great iron chest along with the child to Tsarskoye Selo. Your brother
and your wife were already in St. Petersburg--together. The treasure
was to be divided among I know not how many of the high court
officials. Your wife, of course, fell to the informer's portion, and
the child was sent off later in order to be transported to the Urals
along with you. As the boy begged most piteously for me I was allowed
to travel along with him. He cried during the whole journey with the
pain caused by the branding-iron. At last the steward could no longer
bear his constant moaning in the carriage, and ordered me to get down
and gather some poppy-heads in the field, so that I might make an
infusion of them and put the child to sleep. So I gathered a great
many poppy-heads and made them into a good strong tea at our next
stopping-place. But I did not give it to the boy to drink. I mixed it
among the brandy which the steward, the driver, and the Cossacks were
drinking, and it was not long before their heads were nodding under
it.
"I then took the keys of the iron chest from the steward's pocket,
flung him out of the troïka and the driver after him, seized the reins
and drove off with the boy. But when the Cossacks had become a little
sober they came galloping after us. When I saw that we must soon be
overtaken, I opened the treasure-chest took out great handfuls of gold
and silver, and flung them on the road. Of course, they could not let
stuff of that kind lie, and by the time they had scraped it all
together we were far away over hill and dale. On reaching the forest
of Pleskov the middle horse became lame, and I saw that I could not
hope to save both the money and the child. I should have had to
sacrifice either one or other. So I told the boy to clasp me tightly
round the neck, and away we fled together across the steppe. I had
previously turned the horses loose with the troïka. No doubt the
Cossacks overtook the carriage with all the treasure. But I brought
the child here through the forests and across the moors, for I knew
that you would land here when you returned from the sea. But you are
not angry with me, Master, for bringing only the boy with me instead
of all the gold?"
As yet not a tear had risen to the rugged seaman's eyes. He sat
staring with frenzied look at the cruel brand upon his son's shoulder.
But suddenly, as Mashinka finished speaking, a flood of hot tears
burst from the father's eyes. He wiped them away. The white
handkerchief was stained with crimson spots. He held it up before the
girl's eyes.
"Remember!" he exclaimed in hollow tones, "once in your life you saw a
man weep tears of blood."
"Now," he added sternly, after a pause, "take the boy in your arms and
follow me."
"But whither are you going, Master?" asked the girl.
"Back again to the sea."
When Captain Von Ungern, with his child and Mashinka, regained the
deck of his vessel, the _Gladova Strela_, he found the plenipotentiary
of the Admiralty already on board. That official was charged with the
ukase depriving Feodor of his rank, and appointing his brother Zeno to
the post of frigate-captain in his place. The crew were looking on in
gloomy silence, ready for any turn which events might take.
"Throw both ukase and messenger into the sea!" shouted Feodor.
The order was exactly to the mind of the crew, and right promptly did
they execute it.
"And now," he called out, "which of you will come with me wherever I
may go?"
"We will all go with you against Hell itself!" shouted the men.
"Nay, my men; against the powers of Hell we will never fight, but only
against those of Heaven and Earth. Henceforth we will league ourselves
with all the fiends of Darkness and the Storm!"
The weather was tempestuous and the sea was running high. Not until
the following day did the Admiralty decide to pursue the vessel which
had vanished so suddenly in full sail. It was then too late to
overtake her.
It was shortly afterwards that the sad news reached St. Petersburg
that the fugitive vessel had run upon the rocks of Dago. Her mainmast
and bowsprit were all that was ever picked up, so it was plain to all
men that the _Gladova Strela_, with her fifty men and seven guns, had
gone to the bottom. So after all, men said, things had perhaps
happened as they ought. At all events, the name of Captain Feodor Von
Ungern was utterly forgotten.
[Illustration]