A Dread Awakening—Kidnapped
NEVER had the finishing touches of any raft so keenly interested
Sergey, as these of the "Swan." The chief object in the construction
was to float in as small a compass as possible, as much timber as could
be sent safely down the current.
This, and the care necessary to make it lie evenly and securely upon
the water, made the building of the raft far less simple and easy a
thing than at first sight it appeared. Upon the raft a little house or
cabin was erected, strongly and firmly made, and into it were packed
just the bare necessaries for the long slow voyage, though of course
additional provisions could be obtained, and certain stores renewed at
some of the places passed on the way.
The cabin was small, but it was wonderful how many things it was
capable of holding. It contained a little stove which was to answer the
treble purpose of warming the people, cooking the food, and drying the
clothes.
A few low stools and a rough table formed the furniture. Beds there
were none, but two shelves were used as sleeping-places. And if more
than two people wished to sleep at the same time, there was always the
floor.
By way of food they had a keg of sour cabbage for soup, some herrings
in brine, several huge loaves of rye bread, a wooden bucket of Finnish
salt butter, and a box of buckwheat grain for porridge. There were an
old battered samovar, a broken-nosed teapot, a few tin pots and wooden
spoons, and a knife or two, also two or three earthenware bowls. These
things, with a pound or so of tea and sugar, just about took up the
available space in the little cabin.
The brilliant shining of the sun for a day or two had completed the
destruction of the ice begun by the south wind and rain. And now no ice
was to be seen. The river was in full flood. And the morning came when
Sergey said a grateful farewell to the good foreman and his wife, and
joining Ivan and his three stalwart sons on the deck of the "Swan,"
began his long slow voyage.
With the blue sky and golden sunlight over him, kind people with him,
new scenes and possible adventures before him, the lad felt lighter of
heart than for years past. For, after all, he was only thirteen, and at
that age the future looks very fair.
All day the "Swan" floated at a fair pace down the stream. And as there
was a moon that night, and plenty of light by which to navigate the
clumsy craft, there was no need to stop and moor the raft.
Right through the peaceful, solemn night they drifted in the cold
white light, keeping in mid-stream so as to take full advantage of the
strong current which prevails in flood-time. The woods were still white
with the remains of unmelted snow, and now and again Sergey caught a
fleeting glimpse of some furtive moving thing among the pine stems,
and heard old Ivan mutter into his grizzled beard, "Volk!" (wolf), or
"Zaitsa" (hare), or "Lysitsa" (fox).
That first night on the river Tihonka was a thing to be remembered for
its novelty, its mystery, and its beauty. So much absorbed indeed was
the boy that Ivan had to remind him of his duty as cook, and tell him
to prepare supper.
All went smoothly enough that night and the whole of the next day, but
towards nightfall the weather changed. A great wind rose, the sky was
overcast, and the water was lashed to fury wherever there was space
enough to be exposed to the gale.
"We must moor the 'Swan' to-night," said Ivan. "It would not be safe to
run her through the darkness. And besides, we are reaching a rocky part
of the river, and for this we must have light."
So when darkness began to settle down, the raft was moored close in
shore, and the men, wrapping themselves in their sheepskins, lay down,
two on the sleeping-shelves, two on the floor, and were soon snoring
loudly. Sergey snuggled into a corner and tried to sleep too.
But the cabin was close and stuffy, and the boy could not close his
eyes. Longing for a whiff of the fresh, pine-scented air, he got up
noiselessly, so as not to rouse the sleepers, and stepped out on to the
deck of the raft, and thence to a big flat boulder close to which the
"Swan" was moored. Here he sat down, and presently, lulled by the soft
sounds of the going in the pine tops, and the swirl of the water, he
fell into a deep slumber.
Whether he slept for several hours or for only a brief time Sergey
never knew. But he regained consciousness under a suffocating
sensation, and a sickening sense of misfortune and danger.
As he came gradually to himself, he realised that he was no longer
sitting on the rock where he had fallen asleep, but was being carried
along in strong arms that seemed to make light of his weight. Some sort
of a gag had been forced into his mouth, so that he could not cry out;
nor could he loosen his hands and arms, so tightly was his sheepskin
rolled about him.
Hardly awake, he did not struggle at first, but when he began to kick
and writhe, fighting desperately for freedom, his worst fears were
confirmed, for a hoarse brutal voice said in his ear, "Did I not tell
thee we should meet again, thou fox—thou wolf-cub? And now I have thee,
and thou shalt pay what thou owest, even to the last copeck."
Sergey could not answer, the gag prevented speech, but he shuddered
from head to foot. Just when he had thought himself safe for ever from
the tyranny of this bad man, here he was, in worse case than before,
for Matvey and Christina were miles away, and Ivan and his sons fast
asleep.
"There is no one to help me!" sighed the poor lad. "My uncle may have
his will with me now."
Then the extreme of his misery recalled to Sergey's mind what he ought
to have remembered before, and a cry went up from the boy's burdened
heart to Him Who, watching over Israel, slumbers not nor sleeps.
Sergey could not speak his prayer aloud, but he knew that the Heavenly
Father could hear the unspoken prayer, and it gave him comfort to feel
that, after all, he was not quite alone or wholly friendless.
For ten minutes or so he was carried over what he was sure was very
rough ground.
Then suddenly his bearer seemed to step over some threshold, and in
a blaze of light he was set on his feet, the gag was removed, and he
found himself in the centre of a barn-like building, and about him a
number of rough-looking men who eyed him curiously.
"Here he is!" said Abram Kapoostin. "I'd been on a raft too often
myself not to know where Ivan would moor such a night as this. And I
was lucky to find him outside the cabin instead of in. I swore—comrades
mine—that I would meet this young fox again, and I have kept my word.
Now then, thou young thief and traitor, what hast thou done with my
jewel?"