Next morning Pan Yan woke up fresh, in good health, and cheerful. The
weather was wonderful. The widely overflowed waters were wrinkled into
small ripples by the warm, light breeze. The banks were in a fog, and
were merged in the plain of waters in one indistinguishable level.
Jendzian, when he woke, rubbed his eyes and was frightened. He looked
around with astonishment, and seeing shore nowhere, cried out,--
"Oh, for God's sake! my master, we must be out on the sea."
"It is the swollen river, not the sea," answered Pan Yan; "you will
find the shores when the fog rises."
"I think we shall be travelling before long in the Turkish land."
"We shall travel there if we are ordered, but you see we are not
sailing alone."
And in the twinkle of an eye were to be seen many large boats and the
narrow Cossack craft, generally called chaiki, with bulrushes fastened
around them. Some of these were going down the river, borne on by the
swift current; others were being urged laboriously against the stream
with oars and sail. They were carrying fish, wax, salt, and dried
cherries to towns along the river, or returning from inhabited
neighborhoods laden with provisions for Kudák, and goods which found
ready sale in the bazaar at the Saitch. From the mouth of the Psel down
the banks of the Dnieper was a perfect desert, on which only here and
there wintering-posts of the Cossacks whitened. But the river formed a
highway connecting the Saitch with the rest of the world; therefore
there was a considerable movement on it, especially when the increase
of water made it easy for vessels, and when the Cataracts, with the
exception of Nenasytets, were passable for craft going with the
current.
The lieutenant looked with curiosity at that life on the river.
Meanwhile his boats were speeding on quickly to Kudák. The fog rose,
and the shore appeared in clear outline. Over the heads of the
travellers flew millions of water-birds,--pelicans, wild geese, storks,
ducks, gulls, curlews, and mews. In the reeds at the side of the river
was heard such an uproar, such a plashing of water, such a sound of
wings, that you would have said there was either a war or a council of
birds. Beyond Kremenchug the shores became lower and open.
"Oh, look, my master!" cried Jendzian, suddenly; "the sun is roasting,
but snow lies on the fields."
Skshetuski looked, and indeed on both sides of the river, as far as the
eye could reach, some kind of a white covering glittered in the rays of
the sun.
"Hallo! what is that which looks white over there?" asked he of the
pilot.
"Cherry-trees!" answered the old man.
In fact there were forests of dwarf cherry-trees, with which both
shores were covered from beyond the mouth of the Psel. In autumn the
sweet and large fruit of these trees furnished food to birds and
beasts, as well as to people losing their way in the Wilderness. This
fruit was also an article of commerce which was taken in boats to Kieff
and beyond. When they went to the shore, to give the oarsmen time to
rest, the lieutenant landed with Jendzian, wishing to examine the
bushes more closely. The two men were surrounded by such an
intoxicating odor that they were scarcely able to breathe. Many
branches were lying on the ground. In places an impenetrable thicket
was formed. Among the cherry-trees were growing, also luxuriantly,
small wild almond-trees covered with rose-colored blossoms, which gave
out a still more pungent odor. Myriads of black bees and yellow bees,
with many-colored butterflies, were flitting over this variegated sea
of blossoms, the end of which could not be seen.
"Oh, this is wonderful, wonderful!" said Jendzian. "And why do not
people live here? I see plenty of wild animals too."
Among the cherry-trees gray and white rabbits were running, and
countless flocks of large blue-legged quails, some of which Jendzian
shot; but to his great distress he learned from the pilot that their
flesh was poisonous. On the soft earth tracks of deer and wild goats
were to be seen, and from afar came sounds like the grunting of wild
boars.
When the travellers had sated their eyes and rested, they pushed on
farther. The shores were now high, now low, disclosing views of fine
oak forests, fields, mounds, and spacious steppes. The surrounding
country seemed so luxuriant that Skshetuski involuntarily repeated to
himself the question of Jendzian: "Why do not people live here?" But
for this there was need of some second Yeremi Vishnyevetski to occupy
those desert places, bring them to order, and defend them from attacks
of Tartars and men from the lower country. At points the river made
breaches and bends, flooded ravines, struck its foaming wave against
cliffs on the shore, and filled with water dark caverns in the rocks.
In such caverns and bends were the hiding-places and retreats of the
Cossacks. The mouths of rivers were covered with forests of rushes,
reeds, and plants, which were black from the multitude of birds; in a
word, a wild region, precipitous, in places sunken, but waste and
mysterious, unrolled itself before the eyes of our travellers. Movement
on the water became disagreeable; for by reason of the heat swarms of
mosquitoes and insects unknown in the dry steppe appeared,--some of
them as large as a man's finger, and whose bite caused blood to flow in
a stream.
In the evening they arrived at the island of Romanovka, the fires of
which were visible from a distance, and there they remained for the
night. The fishermen who had hurried up to look at the escort of the
lieutenant had their shirts, their faces, and their hands entirely
covered with tar to save them from insect bites. These were men of rude
habits and wild. In spring they assembled here in crowds to catch and
dry fish, which afterward they took to Chigirin, Cherkasi, Pereyasláv,
and Kieff. Their occupation was difficult, but profitable, by reason of
the multitude of fish that in the summer became a misfortune to that
region; for, dying from lack of water in the bays and so-called "quiet
corners," they infected the air with putrefaction.
The lieutenant learned that all the Zaporojians occupied there in
fishing had left the island some days before and returned at the call
of the koshevoi ataman. Every night, too, from the island were seen
fires kindled on the steppe by people hastening to the Saitch. The
fishermen knew that an expedition against the Poles was in preparation,
and they made no secret of this from the lieutenant. Skshetuski saw
that his journey might indeed be too late; perhaps before he could
reach the Saitch the Cossack regiments would be moving to the north;
but he had been ordered to go, and like a true soldier he did not
argue, but resolved to push on, even to the centre of the Zaporojian
camp.
Early next morning they kept on their way. They passed the wonderful
Tarenski Corner, Sukhaya Gora, and Konski Ostrog, famous for its swamps
and myriads of insects, which rendered it unfit for habitation.
Everything about them--the wildness of the region, the increased rush
of the water--announced the vicinity of the Cataracts. At last the
tower of Kudák was outlined on the horizon; the first part of their
journey was ended.
The lieutenant, however, did not reach the castle that night; for Pan
Grodzitski had established the order that after the change of guard,
just before sunset, no one would be permitted to enter the fortress or
leave it. Even if the king himself were to arrive after that hour, he
would be obliged to pass the night in the village under the walls of
the castle.
And this is what the lieutenant did. His lodgings were not very
commodious; for the cabins in the village, of which there were about
sixty, built of clay, were so small that it was necessary to crawl into
some of them on hands and knees. It was not worth while to build any
other; for the fortress reduced them to ruins at every Tartar attack,
so as not to give the assailants shelter or safe approach to the walls.
In that village dwelt "incomers,"--that is, wanderers from Poland,
Russia, the Crimea, and Wallachia. Almost every man had a faith of his
own, but of that no one raised a question. They cultivated no land
because of danger from the horde. They lived on fish and grain brought
from the Ukraine; they drank spirits distilled from millet, and worked
at handicraft for which they were esteemed at Kudák.
The lieutenant was scarcely able to close his eyes that night from the
odor of horse-skins, of which straps were made in the village. Next
morning at daybreak, as soon as the bell rang and the tattoo was
sounded, he gave notice at the fortress that an envoy of the prince had
arrived.
Grodzitski, who had the visit of the prince fresh in mind, went out to
meet him in person. He was a man fifty years of age, one-eyed like a
Cyclops, sullen; for, seated in a desert at the end of the world and
not seeing people, he had become wild, and in exercising unlimited
power had grown stern and harsh. Besides, his face was pitted with
small-pox, and adorned with sabre-cuts and scars from Tartar arrows,
like white spots on a tawny skin. But he was a genuine soldier,
watchful as a stork; he kept his eye strained in the direction of
Tartars and Cossacks. He drank only water, and slept but seven hours in
twenty-four; often he would spring up in the night to see if the guards
were watching the walls properly, and for the least carelessness
condemned soldiers to death. Though terrible, he was indulgent to the
Cossacks, and acquired their respect. When in winter they were short of
provisions in the Saitch, he helped them with grain. He was a Russian
like those who in their day campaigned in the steppes with Psheslav,
Lantskoronski, and Samek Zborovski.
"Then you are going to the Saitch?" asked he of Skshetuski, conducting
him first to the castle and treating him hospitably.
"To the Saitch. What news have you from there?"
"War! The koshevoi ataman is concentrating the Cossacks from all the
meadows, streams, and islands. Fugitives are coming from the Ukraine,
whom I stop when I can. There are thirty thousand men or more in the
Saitch at present. When they move on the Ukraine and when the town
Cossacks and the crowd join them, there will be a hundred thousand."
"And Hmelnitski?"
"He is looked for every day from the Crimea with the Tartars; he may
have come already. To tell the truth, it is not necessary for you to go
to the Saitch; in a little while you will see them here, for they will
not avoid Kudák, nor leave it behind them."
"But will you defend yourself?"
Grodzitski looked gloomily at the lieutenant and said with a calm,
emphatic voice: "I will not defend myself."
"How is that?"
"I have no powder. I sent twenty boats for even a little; none has been
sent me. I don't know whether the messengers were intercepted or
whether there is none. I only know that so far none has come. I have
powder for two weeks,--no longer. If I had powder enough, I should blow
Kudák and myself into the air before a Cossack foot should enter. I am
commanded to lie here,--I lie; commanded to watch,--I watch; commanded
to be defiant,--I am defiant; and if it comes to dying, since my mother
gave me birth, I shall know how to die too."
"And can't you make powder yourself?"
"For two months the Cossacks have been unwilling to let me have
saltpetre, which must be brought from the Black Sea. No matter! if need
be I will die!"
"We can all learn of you old soldiers. And if you were to go for the
powder yourself?"
"I will not and cannot leave Kudák; here was life for me, let my death
be here. Don't you think, either, that you are going to banquets and
lordly receptions, like those with which they welcome envoys in other
places, or that the office of envoy will protect you there. They kill
their own atamans; and since I have been here I don't remember that any
of them has died a natural death. And you will perish also."
Skshetuski was silent.
"I see that your courage is dying out; you would better not go."
"My dear sir," said the lieutenant, angrily, "think of something more
fitted to frighten me, for I have heard what you have told me ten
times, and if you counsel me not to go I shall see that in my place you
would not go. Consider, therefore, if powder is the only thing you
need, and not bravery too, in the defence of Kudák."
Grodzitski, instead of growing angry, looked with clear eyes at the
lieutenant.
"You are a biting dog!" muttered he in Russian. "Pardon me. From your
answer I see that you are able to uphold the dignity of the prince and
the rank of noble. I'll give you a couple of Cossack boats, for with
your own you will not be able to pass the Cataracts."
"I wished to ask you for them."
"At Nenasytets you will have them drawn overland; for although the
water is deep, it is never possible to pass,--scarcely can some kind of
small boat slip through. And when you are on the lower waters guard
against surprise, and remember that iron and lead are more eloquent
than words. There they respect none but the daring. The boats will be
ready in the morning; but I will order a second rudder to be put on
each, for one is not enough on the Cataracts."
Grodzitski now conducted the lieutenant from the room, to show him the
fortress and its arrangements. It was a model of order and discipline
throughout. Night and day guards standing close to one another watched
the walls, which Tartar captives were forced to strengthen and repair
continually.
"Every year I add one ell to the height of the walls," said Grodzitski,
"and they are now so strong that if I had powder enough even a hundred
thousand men could do nothing against me; but without ammunition I
can't defend myself when superior force appears."
The fortress was really impregnable; for besides the guns it was
defended by the precipices of the Dnieper and inaccessible cliffs
rising sheer from the water, and did not require a great garrison.
Therefore there were not more than six hundred men in the fortress; but
they were the very choicest soldiers, armed with muskets. The Dnieper,
flowing in that place in a compressed bed, was so narrow that an arrow
shot from the walls went far on to the other bank. The guns of the
fortress commanded both shores and the whole neighborhood. Besides,
about two miles and a half from the fortress was a lofty tower, from
which everything was visible for forty miles around, and in which were
one hundred soldiers whom Pan Grodzitski visited every day. Whenever
they saw people in the neighborhood they gave signal to the fortress
immediately, the alarm was rung, and the whole garrison stood under
arms at once.
"In truth," said Grodzitski, "there is no week without an alarm; for
the Tartars, sometimes several thousands strong, wander around like
wolves. We strike them as well as we can with the guns, and many times
wild horses are mistaken for Tartars."
"And are you not weary of living in such a wild place?" asked
Skshetuski.
"Even if a place were given me in the chambers of the king, I would not
take it. I see more of the world from this place than the king does
from his windows in Warsaw."
In truth, from the walls an immense stretch of steppes was to be seen,
which at that time seemed one sea of green,--to the north the mouth of
the Samara; and on the south the whole bank of the Dnieper, rocks,
precipices, forests, as far as the foam of the second Cataract, the
Sur.
Toward evening they visited the tower again, since Skshetuski, seeing
for the first time that fortress in the steppe, was curious about
everything. Meanwhile in the village boats were being prepared for him,
which, provided with rudders at both ends, could be turned more easily.
He was to start early in the morning; yet during the night he did not
lie down to sleep at all, but pondered what was to be done in face of
the inevitable destruction with which his mission to the terrible
Saitch was threatened. Life smiled on him indeed; for he was young and
in love, and a future at the side of a loved one was promised him.
Still honor and glory were dearer. But he remembered that war was near;
that Helena, waiting for him in Rozlogi, might be seized by the most
terrible misfortune,--exposed to the violence, not of Bogun alone, but
of the wild and unbridled mob. Alarm for her and pain had seized his
spirits. The steppes must have become dry already; it was surely
possible to go from Rozlogi to Lubni. But he had told Helena and the
old princess to wait for him; for he had not expected that the storm
would burst so soon, he did not know the danger in the journey to the
Saitch. He walked therefore with quick steps in his room in the
fortress, twisted his beard, and wrung his hands. What was he to do?
How was he to act? In his mind he saw Rozlogi already in flames,
surrounded by a howling mob, more like devils than men. His own steps
were answered by a gloomy echo under the vault of the castle; and it
seemed to him that an evil power was already approaching Helena. On the
walls the quenching of the lights was signalled, and that seemed to him
the echo of Bogun's horn. He gnashed his teeth, and grasped after the
hilt of his sword. Oh! why did he insist on this expedition, and get it
away from Bykhovets?
Jendzian, who was sleeping on the threshold, noticed the change in his
master, rose therefore, wiped his eyes, snuffed the torch burning in
the iron candlestick, and began to walk around in the room, wishing to
arrest the attention of his master.
But the lieutenant, buried completely in his own painful thoughts, kept
walking on, rousing with his steps the slumbering echoes.
"Oh, my master!" said Jendzian.
Skshetuski gazed at him with a glassy look. Suddenly he woke up from
his revery.
"Jendzian, are you afraid of death?" asked he.
"How death? What are you saying?"
"For who goes to the Saitch does not return."
"Then why do you go?"
"That is my affair; do not meddle with it. But I am sorry for you; you
are a stripling, and though a cunning fellow, cunning cannot save you
in the Saitch. Return to Chigirin, and then to Lubni."
Jendzian began to scratch his head.
"My master, I fear death; for whoever would not fear death would not
fear God; for it is his will either to keep a man alive or to put him
to death. But if you run to death of your own will, then it is your sin
as a master, not mine as a servant. I will not leave you; for I am not
a serf, but a nobleman; though poor, still I am not without pride."
"I see that you are a good fellow; but I will tell you, if you do not
wish to go willingly, you will go by command, since it cannot be
otherwise."
"Though you were to kill me, I will not go. Do you think that I am a
Judas, to give you up to death?"
Here Jendzian raised his hands to his eyes, and began to sob audibly.
Skshetuski saw that he could not reach him in that way, and he did not
wish to command him threateningly, for he was sorry for the lad.
"Listen!" said he to him. "You can give me no assistance, and I shall
not put my head under the sword voluntarily. You will take letters to
Rozlogi, which are of more importance to me than my own life. You will
tell the old princess to take the young lady to Lubni at once, without
the least delay, otherwise rebellion will catch them; and do you watch
to see they go. I give you an important mission, worthy of a friend,
not a servant."
"You can send somebody else with the letter,--anybody will go."
"And what trusted person have I here? Have you lost your senses? I
repeat to you: Doubly save my life, and still you do not wish to render
me such service, while I am living in torment, thinking what may
happen, and my skin is sweating from pain."
"Well, as God lives, I see I must go! But I grieve for you; so if you
were even to give me that spotted belt, I should take no comfort in it
at all."
"You shall have the belt; but do your work well."
"I do not want the belt, if you will only let me go with you."
"To-morrow you will return with the boat which Pan Grodzitski is
sending to Chigirin. From there you will go, without delay or rest,
straight to Rozlogi. Here is a purse for the road. I will write letters
immediately."
Jendzian fell at the feet of the lieutenant, "Oh, my master, shall I
never see you again?"
"As God gives, as God gives," said Skshetuski, raising him up. "But
show a glad face in Rozlogi. Now go to sleep."
The remainder of the night passed for Skshetuski in writing letters and
ardent prayer, after which the angel of rest came to him. Meanwhile the
night was growing pale; light whitened the narrow windows from the
east; day was coming. Then rosy gleams stole into the room; on the
tower and fortress they began to play the morning "tattoo." Shortly
after Grodzitski appeared in the room.
"The boats are ready."
"And I am ready," said Skshetuski, calmly.