The Rescue
THE raft had started on her voyage again.
Sergey had told the lady Elena his story, or at least that part of it
relating to his uncle Abram Kapoostin, and to the finding of the ring.
He had given her Matvey's address, and had also himself written a few
lines to the foreman, for the lady to enclose.
And then he bade an affectionate farewell to old Ivan, adding that he
hoped to see him again very soon, when he should join the "Swan" later
on.
But it was rather a depressed little company that started the raft
again. Kostia, as skipper, felt the responsibility, and the other three
missed the serene presence and quiet confidence of the old veteran
whose every summer, for the last thirty years, had been spent in this
kind of life.
But, after all, the thing could not be helped, and they must make the
best of it. If each did his utmost, disaster might be averted, and at
least they would have nothing with which to reproach themselves.
The first night they were all too much excited and too anxious to
sleep. It was bright moonlight, and a calm, open waterway, so that
there was no difficulty about going on, but the absence of the old
skipper was enough to make them all doubly watchful. As the weather
was not cold, the four spent the night on the raft deck. And as the
day began to break, they too felt light at heart and happier about the
voyage before them.
In the course of the morning they successfully worked their way down
some rapids, and swung round a curve in the river just below, without
coming into collision with any of the rocks that were scattered about.
And after this they all gained confidence. It was evident that Kostia,
had studied his father's methods to some purpose, and the rest of the
crew began to trust him implicitly and obey orders without question.
When Sergey was not busy in the cabin, he lent a hand in managing the
raft, and was quite pleased at being allowed to take his part in the
work.
So for a week they drifted down the streams, borne on the spring flood.
Once, while fishing, they caught an enormous sturgeon, but before they
could secure it with net and spike, it had broken the strong line and
vanished into the depths from which it had come.
One day, soon after they had passed a little waterside village, they
spied, just ahead of the raft, what looked like a bundle of clothes in
the water. They could see that it was gradually sinking, and presently
it would be entirely submerged.
"What can that be?" said Kostia, who, pole in hand, was keeping the
"Swan" from coming too near the bank. For the river here, though deep
and rapid, was narrow.
Just then a little wave turned the bundle over, and a white face was
upturned to the sky.
"Look! Look!" exclaimed Sasha. "It is a woman!"
"And we must get her out quickly," added Kostia. "Another minute and
she will sink!"
So saying, he stepped to the edge of the raft on the right side.
"Sasha!" cried he. "Stand by with the boat-hook, but mind you only
catch her clothes, Vassia, keep the raft steady, and steer a bit to the
left. Sergey, go and see to the samovar and make some tea."
There were a few anxious moments while each member of the little
company carried out the orders of the young skipper. Then Kostia
stooped, and with strong arms lifted the insensible burden that Sasha
drew in with his boat-hook.
"Take her into the cabin and slip off that sodden cloak, and try to get
her warm," said Kostia. "I don't think she's dead. She does not look to
me as though she had been very long in the water."
Vassia and Sergey bore the poor creature into the cabin, where the
little stove was brightly burning. Here they laid her down, unhooked
and drew away her thick cloak, chafed her hands, and poured a little
warm tea between her pale lips. And, much to their delight, after about
twenty minutes she began to revive, and presently she sat up and looked
wonderingly about her.
"What is this?" she said faintly. "Where am I? Who are you?"
"Have no fear, Matushka!" said Vassia, kindly. "You are safe, and with
friends. We are raftsmen, and but now we fished you up out of the
water."
"The water? Ach, yes!" she replied in a weak voice. "He pushed me
in!—like father like son!—and left me to drown. He was drunk—so
drunk—and did not know what he was doing. And the water was deep, and I
could not get back to the bank."
"And this man," said Vassia, "is he your husband?"
"My husband? Ach, no! Though, for the matter of that, he would
doubtless have done the same. But this was my husband's father. When my
husband deserted me, I kept house for my father-in-law. But there is no
peace nor happiness to be had with any of the family. Assuredly God's
curse rests on the Kapoostins root and branch."
"The Kapoostins?" exclaimed Sergey. "Said you the Kapoostins?"
"Yes; that they are all bad alike—thieves, drunkards, liars, cruel as
death. But why art thou staring so, child? What is it to thee?"
"What is it to me, Matushka? Why, my uncle is a Kapoostin," said the
boy, "and my mother was his sister—no, his half-sister."
"Is thine uncle's name Abram?"
"Yes, it is. How did you guess that?"
"Easily enough," she said indifferently, wringing the water out of her
long brown hair. "Abram is my husband, who left me years ago."
"Why, none of us at Glynoi-Liess ever thought that he was married,"
said Sergey.
"No? Well, he can keep a secret when he likes; also to Abram Kapoostin
a big lie is easier than the truth."