DOWN THE SHILKA.
No need to tell the fugitives the meaning of the booming cannon. It was
all plain enough. Their escape had been discovered, and in a few moments
mounted Cossacks would be riding to and fro through the snowy night. From
one end of the settlement to the other the news would spread, and all
would be on the alert for the escaped prisoners.
“If we only could have had one night’s start,” panted Shamarin, as he
plunged forward through the drifted snow into the mouth of the little
hollow. “But the case is not hopeless by any means. Keep your spirits up,
Sandoff.”
Then he uttered a glad cry as a figure muffled in heavy furs rose from
behind a rock and came swiftly forward.
“Vera!”
“Felix, my brother!”
They fell into each other’s arms and embraced passionately for a moment.
Then in a few words Shamarin revealed the identity of his companion, and
Vera’s sorrow and remorse on learning the truth were pitiful to see. She
bitterly reproached herself for Sandoff’s misfortune.
“Believe me, you are not to blame,” said Sandoff gently, when he had
told her all the circumstances. “I entreat you to let it cause you no
distress. It is all past now, and we have too much at stake to think of
anything but the future.”
“Yes, that is true,” added Shamarin. “Be sensible, Vera, and think of
what lies before us. We must act promptly if we would elude the Cossacks
who will soon be scouring the valley. I am impatient to hear your
story. Some strong motive must have prompted you to escape at such an
unfavorable time. I have enough faith in you to be convinced that you
acted for the best.”
“I did,” replied Vera with forced calmness. “A few words will explain
all. The women’s prison at Lower Kara has been overcrowded of late, and
I discovered accidentally that the governor intended to send some of the
inmates to Irkutsk in a few days. I was to be included in that number. As
this would have separated us forever, I determined to escape and then try
to get word to you, for I knew that you had been transferred to Middle
Kara. I escaped from the prison at night by a broken window, and went
straight to the homes of the Free Command—to some people whom I knew
in the prison, and who had been released on parole while I was there.
These noble people—who once belonged to the Revolutionary Committee,
but before your time, Felix—gave me stout boots, an abundance of warm
clothing, a pistol and ammunition, a supply of food, even a little money,
and the tools that I gave you yesterday. But this is not all. They gave
me information that is more valuable than their gifts, for without it an
attempt to escape at this time of year would be madness indeed. They told
me that on the bank of the Shilka River, less than a mile below the Kara,
lives a peasant who has a large boat, and some miles down the Shilka,
just before it empties into the River Amur, stands a hut hidden in a
dense wood. This hut was used last fall by some poor fellow who escaped
from the mines. He stored a quantity of provisions there, intending to
wait until spring and then strike for the coast; but one day when he had
ventured out in search of game the Cossacks caught him and brought him
back. But the hut was not found, and the store of food is probably still
there. My friends gave me written directions for finding the hut, but I
have not time to show them to you now. And so do you see my plan, Felix?
We must get the boat, float down the Shilka River to this hut, and live
there until spring opens. Then we will do our best to reach Vladivostok
on the Pacific coast, and once there we shall surely find, among the
vessels of all nationalities in the harbor, one that will help us and
bear us away to some free country.”
“It is a noble plan,” cried Shamarin. “My brave girl, I believe it will
succeed. The obstacles in the way are many, but we won’t stop to consider
them now. We will try to look continually at the bright side. The first
step is to reach the mouth of the Kara River, which is about eight miles
distant, as nearly as I can judge. Unfortunately, to get there we must
pass three of the settlements, commencing with Middle Kara, but we can do
so in comparative safety by making a circuit. Let us strike across the
valley from here, so as to avoid the Kara River and the settlements, and
then follow the ridge southward. That will bring us to the Shilka, and
by tracing it for a short distance we shall come to the house where lies
the boat. As yet the snow is not deep, and if we travel rapidly we can
cover the distance by two o’clock in the morning. The danger of pursuit
during that period of our escape is slight, for the snow will obliterate
our footsteps before the Cossacks can trace us to this point. The chief
danger lies in our track being discovered by prowling squads.”
“And that is very improbable,” said Sandoff. “It need not cause us much
uneasiness. Your plan is a good one, Shamarin. Let us lose no time in
carrying it out!”
“We can start at once,” exclaimed Vera. “Wait until I get my things.”
She led the way to the top of the bluff, and showed them the spot that
had served her as a hiding place for the past twenty four hours—a dry,
sheltered nook among rocks and dense bushes.
Shamarin took the bundle that contained her supplies—Sandoff assuming
charge of the other package—and then at their top speed the little party
of three crossed the Kara by the bridge of stepping stones, and headed
due east across the valley. Its level surface—barely two miles wide—was
crossed in safety, and after ascending the range of low foothills, the
fugitives turned to the south and followed the line of the ridge. The
wisdom of Shamarin’s plan now became apparent, for but little snow had
forced its way through the young timber, and they were able to travel
rapidly. The successive settlements were passed at a distance. Twice
the crisp air bore to the fugitives the muffled tramp of hoofs, but the
sounds remained at a distance and finally faded away.
At length, about two o’clock in the morning, as near as could be guessed,
the lights of Ust Kara, the settlement nearest to the mouth of the river,
showed them that the first stage of their journey was nearly at an end.
They felt no fatigue. Even Vera had indignantly refused her brother’s
offer of assistance, and in spite of the bitter cold they were all fairly
warm from the brisk speed at which they had been traveling.
Presently the ridge began to slope downward until they were on level
ground; and after crossing a belt of pine forest, less than half a mile
wide, they emerged on a low bluff and the River Shilka was below them.
For a moment they contemplated the scene in silence, and not without
some dread, for the pale glow of the moon showed the river to be clogged
with huge cakes of ice, whirling down stream with a great grinding and
crashing, while each shore was frozen solidly for a distance of some
yards from the bank.
“It will be perilous work,” muttered Shamarin to himself, “perilous
work!” Then he said aloud, “Well, now for the next step. In what
direction is that to be? Up stream or down?”
“Down, I think,” replied Vera. “We are hardly a mile from the Kara as
yet. The house must be close at hand, though.”
“Down it is, then,” said Shamarin. He led the way to the beach and thence
along the snow covered pebbles, until, on rounding a sharp bluff, the
fugitives caught sight of a tiny cabin standing near the water’s edge, in
the shadow of a clump of pine trees.
Shamarin crept forward alone to investigate, and presently came back with
a joyful face.
“All right,” he announced; “no one is stirring in the cabin, and I have
found the boat. Follow me with as little noise as possible.”
The boat was lying in a rude covered shed within a yard or two of the
river, and had not been used for so long a time that its keel was
frozen tight. The united efforts of the two men freed it, and then they
began to drag it over the intervening section of beach, very slowly and
cautiously, for the cabin was not ten yards away. When they got it on
the belt of firm ice it moved more easily, and they pushed it forward,
sounding each step of the way until it was almost on the edge of the
whirling black water. The boat was apparently in good condition, and
had three seats, one in the middle and one at each end. The owner had
probably used it to ferry passengers across the river.
Then Sandoff went back to the shed, and returned with two long, iron
pointed boat hooks and a pair of paddles.
“Now get in, Vera,” said her brother, “and Sandoff and I will push the
boat into the water and make a leap for it.”
But the girl drew back and took a shining gold coin from her pocket.
“Wait just a moment,” she entreated. “I want to give this to the poor man
who owns the boat. We may be taking away his only means of livelihood.
Perhaps we shall need the money, but it is better that he should have it.”
Without waiting for a reply she sped swiftly over the ice and up the
beach. The two anxious watchers saw her reach the cabin and stoop in
front of the door.
She rose and started back, but before she could take three steps a dog
began to bark furiously from within. The brute had scented the presence
of an intruder.
Vera came swiftly down the beach, and bounding over the ice sprang
lightly into the boat. Another instant and the two men had pushed it free
of the edge, springing safely in as it settled deep in the black water.
Each seized a boat hook, and as they prodded and lunged at the great ice
cakes that struck the little craft on all sides, and threatened to grind
it to fragments, the door of the cabin opened and a man appeared on the
threshold—a frowsy looking peasant, only half clad. His dog, a small
noisy cur, slipped between his legs and ran down to the shore, where it
stood and barked hoarsely at the retreating boat.
The man stooped and picked up the coin, but at first he did not
comprehend what had taken place. When his dull faculties finally grasped
the truth, he ran down to look into the shed, and then began to shout
loudly, gazing out upon the river. Evidently the money did not console
him for the loss of his boat.
Meanwhile the strong current was bearing the fugitives rapidly down
stream at imminent risk of an upset, for the boat swirled in every
direction, now sinking deep in the water, now rising high on the drifting
ice cakes.
“That noisy fellow and his dog will prove our ruin,” muttered Shamarin.
“Their cries can be heard at Ust Kara.”
“Courage, courage!” whispered Sandoff. “We will soon be out of sight and
reach. Careful now, my friend! Below us the river narrows and flows close
to rugged hills. There we shall be likely to encounter a swifter and
more dangerous current.”
As they skillfully guided the boat onward, striving to keep it headed
with the tide, both heard distinctly, above the roar of the water and the
grinding of the ice, a quick, dull noise strangely like the galloping of
horses.
Vera heard it too, and started from her seat in alarm. All three forgot
for a moment the nearer and more imminent peril, and turned for a look at
the spot they had just left. The moonlight shone brightly on the cabin,
and on the man and dog standing by the shore, and then its pale rays fell
on foaming horses, and rifle barrels, green uniforms, and bearded faces,
as a troop of Cossacks spurred at top speed around the bluff and out on
the broad stretch of shore.
At sight of that dread body of horsemen they shivered and felt that hope
was indeed gone. Sandoff was the first to fling off the lethargy of
despair. His mental eye showed him what chances were favorable and what
unfavorable. Besides, he would rather have died than submit to recapture.
“Don’t despair,” he whispered sharply to his companions. “We have a
chance yet—and a good one. The country below us looks rugged, too rough
for the Cossacks to traverse with any speed. If the current continues
as it does now, we shall easily distance them. Help me to get the boat
toward the other shore as far as possible, Shamarin; they may take it
into their heads to fire at us.”
The latter obeyed unquestioningly, and with some trouble the boat
was headed obliquely across the current. Then the terrific struggle
began anew—the battle with the waves and the impetuous ice floes that
constantly menaced the destruction of the craft and its inmates, only to
be flung sullenly to one side by the skilled hand of Sandoff or Shamarin.
Slowly the boat made headway toward the desired shore, and Vera cheered
the men in their labors by timely words of encouragement.
But by this time the ferryman had given the Cossacks all the information
they needed, and at the sharp word of command from their officer they
spurred down the shore, unslinging their rifles as they rode, until a
timbered bluff, jutting into the river, stopped further progress.
The boat was now well toward the other shore, and some distance down
stream, but it was still within sight and range. Just as the fugitives
dropped flat by Sandoff’s hurried command, a straggling volley was
fired, and the leaden bullets plowed into the ice cakes and splashed in
the patches of black water. But the boat was untouched. A moment later
the current swept it around the curve, and the danger was past for the
present.
“Now head it straight—straight with the tide,” said Sandoff. “There!
That’s it. Let it take its own course now. All we need do is to keep it
trim and fend off the ice.”
The Shilka was at this point less than a quarter of a mile wide, and the
fugitives saw with delight steep ridges falling sheer into the water on
each side of them.
“If this keeps up,” said Shamarin, “and if the snow storm lasts and grows
heavier, as it shows promise of doing, the Cossacks will be compelled
to give up the chase. That is one advantage of escaping in the dead of
winter—the troops are useless during and after a heavy snow fall.”
The snow was indeed coming down more rapidly, and in small, thick flakes
that boded long continuance. The fugitives began to suffer terribly from
cold.
More peril was close at hand—in spite of predictions to the contrary. The
boat stuck for a time on a projecting reef of rocks, and when it finally
floated off again, and had passed down stream for half a mile or so, the
steep banks suddenly fell away. Though a continuation of them was visible
some distance off, in the interval was a stretch of open country. As the
boat drifted out from the shadow of the hills, the ominous thud of hoofs
was heard a second time, and down a slight declivity rode the Cossacks at
full speed. The relentless pursuers had made a circuit and ridden hard to
cut the fugitives off. The officer in command came down to the shore, and
descrying the approaching boat he made a trumpet of his hands and shouted
hoarsely:
“Come in here at once! If you refuse we will riddle you with bullets.”
“Don’t reply,” whispered Sandoff to his companions. “The situation is
critical, but not altogether hopeless. For my part I prefer the chances
of being shot to giving myself up. You know what lies in store for us if
we are taken?”
“We will go ahead by all means,” whispered Shamarin, and Vera was of the
same mind, showing not a particle of fear.
So, without deigning to answer the Cossack, who had by this time repeated
his threat, the fugitives dropped below the gunwales, and the boat was
allowed to take its own course.
For half a minute there was deep silence and then the valley echoed with
ringing reports. Crack!—crack!—crack!—crack—!—crack! So it continued
intermittently as the Cossacks quickly loaded and fired, and the boat
drifted on its course with provoking slowness. It was a terrible ordeal
through which the three crouching figures were passing. The hissing
bullets fell everywhere, plowing furrows and holes in the ice cakes,
splashing water over the sides of the boat, and not infrequently
imbedding themselves in the timbers of the little craft. Had it been
closer to the left shore, none of its inmates could have escaped—for the
Cossacks were fair marksmen, and kept up the fusillade with untiring
persistency. Fortunately no bullets struck very close to the water line,
but Sandoff was grazed on the thigh and had his cap shot off, while
Shamarin was hit in the fleshy part of his left arm.
At last the firing became less continuous, dwindling down to a few stray
shots. When a full minute passed in silence, Sandoff ventured to lift his
head, and saw that the boat had once more passed into the shadow of the
overhanging hills. He drew his head back, cautioning his companions to do
the same, for if they could put the Cossacks under the impression that
all three had been killed, it would greatly increase their chances of
ultimate escape.