*CHAPTER XXVII*
*Sakhalin*
Abundant Profits--A Hut in Sakhalin--Sowinski andAnother--Sympathy--Coincidence--Blood Money--Downhill
One brilliant April morning Jack set out towards Ninguta, accompanied byGabriele and the servant, Hi Lo, and two trusty Chunchuses. They wereall dressed in Chinese garb, and since Manchurian women do not deformtheir feet there was no difficulty for Gabriele on that score. But theycarried Russian dresses and uniforms for use if necessary. They crossedthe railway safely at night half-way between two of the block-houses;and, striking into the hills, followed a path that would take them aconsiderable distance south of Ninguta. Their great danger lay in thechance of meeting one of the Russian columns which had been engaged inrounding up Ah Lum; but the two bandits believed that they would hear ofthe proximity of any such troops in good time to avoid them.
Jack had discussed with Gabriele whether they should take FatherMayenobe's mission station in passing. On all grounds they decided thatit would be best to leave the good priest undisturbed. No doubt hebelieved that Gabriele was well on the way to Europe; it would be a pityto renew his anxieties, and possibly involve him in trouble with theRussians.
While they were laboriously making their way over the hills, anothermember of Ah Lum's band, posing as a lumberman, travelled by therailway, newly restored and more strictly guarded than ever, toVladivostok. He bore a letter from Gabriele to the man by whose aid shehad communicated with her father in Sakhalin. The letter stated thatthe receiver might earn 500 roubles if he would accompany the bearer toPossiet Bay, and there meet the writer, who would then give him furtherinstructions. Jack had little doubt that when they arrived they wouldfind the man waiting. To an ex-convict of Sakhalin 500 roubles is afortune.
The Chinese shipping interest at Possiet Bay was scandalized when itheard that Too Chin-seng was contemplating a voyage to Chifu at leastthree weeks before the usual season. The ice, it was true, was breakingin the harbour; but the weather was tempestuous outside; and largequantities of loose floe rendered navigation difficult and dangerous.There was much shaking of the head over the temerity of the ship-ownerwho was thus imperilling not only the lives of the crew but the safetyof the vessel. He could easily get another crew; a vessel like the_Yu-ye_ ("Abundant Profits") was more difficult to replace. She was astout junk some sixty feet in length and fifteen in beam, built of thickwood to withstand the heavy seas of those northern latitudes, and fromthe Chinese point of view well found in all respects. That for the sakeof a few weeks' gain in time a man should risk so valuable a craftseemed to the shipping world at Possiet Bay a wilful flying in the faceof fortune, almost an insult to Ma Chu, the goddess who watched overgood sailors.
Too Chin-seng went quietly about his preparations, not even swervingwhen his neighbours protested that by the time he returned from Chifu hewould be too late for the early herring fishing off Sakhalin. One daythe vessel, loaded with a cargo of rice, made her way with much creakingand groaning out of the harbour, her sides bumped and scratched by heavyice floes. Before sailing she had undergone the usual inspection; theofficials sniffed and pried, as though the dissatisfaction of the nativecommunity had infected them also; but everything was in order. The daywas fine, the sea exceptionally smooth for the time of year; and whenonce free from the floating ice, the _Yu-ye_ ran merrily before a lightnorth-easter down the coast.
But towards evening, when off Cape Lesura, she hauled her wind and beatabout as if in expectation of something. She had not long to wait. Halfa dozen figures appeared on the shore; a sampan was launched from theedge of the ice and laboriously punted its way out to the junk. Thepassengers were got aboard with some difficulty, for the wind was risingand the sea beginning to be choppy. But, all being at length embarked,the junk clumsily beat out to sea, heading towards the coast of Yesso tothe north-east.
"He can makee chop-chop sailo pidgin, lowdah?" asked Jack of TooChin-seng at the tiller.
"My belongey numpa one junk, masta. Ping-ch'wahn no can catchee he,galaw!"
In a rough wooden hut on a hill-slope above a small lumber settlement onthe south-east coast of Sakhalin two men were talking. It was nearlydark; a sputtering tallow candle threw a murky light over the room,showing up its bareness. A rickety table was the only article offurniture; a raised portion of the rugged wooden floor, covered with oneor two frowsy blankets, served both for chairs and bed. On theseblankets the two men were now seated.
One of them was a big, heavy-browed, uncouth fellow--a posselentsy; thatis, one who having served his time in the convicts' prison, was nowliberated, though not free. He could not leave the island, nor could hechoose his place of residence; he was bound to live where the governorbade him live. On leaving the prison he had been furnished withimplements and ordered to go and build himself a hut at the spotprescribed, and till the soil around it. For two years he had beenprovided with food enough to keep him from starving; after that he mustkeep himself by the labour of his hands--cutting wood, loading coal,mending bridges. His hut became the nucleus of a village, otherconvicts being sent to do as he had done. After fourteen years he mighthope to be permitted to return to Siberia or Russia.
The posselentsy was sitting with his back against the log wall, takingfrequent pulls at a bottle of vodka, which, though forbidden to thecolonists except at the two great Russian festivals in October andJanuary, is secretly manufactured in stills deep in the woods, andstealthily bought and sold. But this bottle was a present.
"Yes," he was saying in answer to a question; "he checks the logs loadedinto store by the foremen of our artels."
"An easy job, no doubt," suggested the other man--the Pole AntonSowinski.
"Easy! It's child's play. All he has to do is to count the logs andwrite the numbers in a book. Then the dirty Pole--I beg pardon; Iforgot he was a countryman of yours--gives out the vouchers, and thework--work!--is done. I had the Englishman's job myself--until I made amistake in the figures."
"A mistake!"
"Well, they said it was intended. At any rate they sent me back to thewoods."
"And while this Englishman--this spy--and the other sit at their ease,you poor Russians have to do all the hard work. I suppose it _is_hard?"
"Hard! Try it, barin. Felling trees and splitting logs all day is notexactly a soft job. And to make matters worse, since this war has beengoing on they've set a lot of us fellows to deal with the fish--make thestinking fish manure that the Japanese used to make. The herring seasonis just beginning; that'll be my pleasant occupation next week."
"And that is the life you lead while the Englishman--the spy--and theother live like barins, eh? It is shameful."
The Russian took a long pull at the bottle. It was not often he got achance of airing his grievances and drinking vodka from the continent--agreat deal more to his taste than the crude poison of local manufacture.
"You are right; it is shameful."
"I wonder you don't do something."
"Do something! What can we do? We rob them when we get the chance, butthat doesn't make things easier. Besides, they are not so bad afterall--the Pole and the Englishman. The Englishman taught my boy to castaccounts; he's now a clerk in the superintendent's office. And the Poletaught my girl to speak French; she's now maid to the governor's lady.It didn't cost me a kopeck: no, they're not a bad sort."
"Still, think of the injustice."
"Yes, the injustice; that's what makes my blood boil. I was a robber; Itell you straight what I was; and I killed a gorodovoi who interferedwith me: that's what brought me here. But what's that to being a spy,and plotting against the Little Father's life? No, and if I had myrights----"
The drink was beginning to take effect; the posselentsy was becomingnoisy.
"Yes, yes," interrupted Sowinski; "and I suppose if the Englishman wereout of the way you would stand a chance of getting your old job--hisjob--again?"
"Perh
aps--if I could bribe the governor's secretary. But what chance isthere of that? His price is too high for me. And besides, theEnglishman is not out of the way, nor likely to be."
"And yet it might be managed too. A determined man like you, with say acouple of hundred roubles to back you, might go far."
The Russian was not so much fuddled that he failed to understand thedrift of the other's words.
"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously. "Speak plainly," he added,bringing his huge fist down upon the table with a bang that made thePole wince. "What is your game?--that's what I put to you. You haven'tcome here--a barin like you--just to see me, and listen to my grumbles;I know that. No, nor yet for love of anybody else; I'm an old bird, Iam, and I see what I see, I do. If you want anything out of me, I won'tsay I sha'n't meet you if you make it worth my while; but you'll have tospeak out, man to man, you know; beating about the bush is no good withan old bird like me, not a bit of it."
"Quite so, my friend, quite so. Indeed, that is my way: a clearunderstanding--nothing kept back on either side."
"Well then, speak out, can't you? What is it? What do you want me todo, and what will you pay me for it?"
"That's what I like--plain speaking. Well, it seems that the matterstands thus: here are two men between your present hard life--anatrocious life, an unendurable life, a life worse than a dog's--and aneasy life, a life with little to do and any amount of time to do it.It's a strange thing, but these very two men are hated by thegovernment. The officials don't want to do anything openly: you knowtheir way; but if the two men were suddenly to disappear----youunderstand?--well, the government at Alexandrovsk wouldn't take itamiss. Of course, there would be a kind of enquiry--a formal matter;and that would be all. But the officials must not appear in it. Thereare reasons. That is why, as I was coming here to see about a contractfor railway sleepers, the matter was mentioned to me--by a highpersonage, you understand. I have with me----" he corrected himselfhastily--"that is to say, not here, but at the superintendent's, twohundred roubles--fifty for an immediate present when an understanding iscome to, another fifty when the disappearance takes place; the rest ifthe disappearance is so complete that no traces of the two arefound--say within a month. But of course I must know what becomes ofthem."
"Ah! That's the game, is it? And what's to be the story forPetersburg, eh?"
"That's an easy matter. We'll say they bought false passports--there'sa manufactory of those useful documents not a hundred miles fromNikolaievsk--and smuggled themselves away in a herring boat. That'llwash, don't you think?"
"If it goes down as easy as this vodka it'll go down uncommon easy,"said the man with a chuckle.
"And there's plenty more where that came from. Well, what do you say?"
"I can't do it alone. I shall want some one to help. You--" he lookedcritically at the Pole--"you ain't the man for such a job. I'll have toget a pal. Ten roubles, now--I suppose you won't object to pay that,supposing you don't want to lend a hand yourself?"
"That shall not stand in the way. I shall have to pay the money out ofmy own pocket," he added as by an artistic inspiration.
The man flashed a shrewd glance at his visitor; but though he saidnothing on the point, he was apparently making a note of something inhis mind.
"Well, you leave it to me, barm," he said. "When I take a job in hand,my motto's 'thorough', it is. And mind you: when I see you next,another bottle of this vodka: that won't ruin a barin with two hundredroubles at the superintendent's office and ten in his own pocket, eh?"
A few minutes later Sowinski left the hut and stumbled out into thedarkness--down the hill, dotted with rude huts dimly discernible in thegloom, towards the little bay where half a dozen junks engaged in theherring fishery lay at anchor. The road was broken by ruts andpitfalls; unconsciously the Pole groped his way over or past them, busywith his thoughts, which were blacker than the night, hurrying him to adeeper pitfall dug by himself for his own undoing.