Michael Strogoff; Or, The Courier of the Czar

  CHAPTER XI BETWEEN TWO BANKS

  BY eight in the evening, the country, as the state of the sky hadforetold, was enveloped in complete darkness. The moon being new had notyet risen. From the middle of the river the banks were invisible. Thecliffs were confounded with the heavy, low-hanging clouds. At intervalsa puff of wind came from the east, but it soon died away in the narrowvalley of the Angara.

  The darkness could not fail to favor in a considerable degree the plansof the fugitives. Indeed, although the Tartar outposts must havebeen drawn up on both banks, the raft had a good chance of passingunperceived. It was not likely either that the besiegers would havebarred the river above Irkutsk, since they knew that the Russians couldnot expect any help from the south of the province. Besides this, beforelong Nature would herself establish a barrier, by cementing with frostthe blocks of ice accumulated between the two banks.

  Perfect silence now reigned on board the raft. The voices of thepilgrims were no longer heard. They still prayed, but their prayer wasbut a murmur, which could not reach as far as either bank. The fugitiveslay flat on the platform, so that the raft was scarcely above the levelof the water. The old boatman crouched down forward among his men,solely occupied in keeping off the ice blocks, a maneuver which wasperformed without noise.

  The drifting of the ice was a favorable circumstance so long as it didnot offer an insurmountable obstacle to the passage of the raft. If thatobject had been alone on the water, it would have run a risk of beingseen, even in the darkness, but, as it was, it was confounded with thesemoving masses, of all shapes and sizes, and the tumult caused bythe crashing of the blocks against each other concealed likewise anysuspicious noises.

  There was a sharp frost. The fugitives suffered cruelly, having noother shelter than a few branches of birch. They cowered down together,endeavoring to keep each other warm, the temperature being now tendegrees below freezing point. The wind, though slight, having passedover the snow-clad mountains of the east, pierced them through andthrough.

  Michael and Nadia, lying in the afterpart of the raft, bore thisincrease of suffering without complaint. Jolivet and Blount, placed nearthem, stood these first assaults of the Siberian winter as well as theycould. No one now spoke, even in a low voice. Their situation entirelyabsorbed them. At any moment an incident might occur, which they couldnot escape unscathed.

  For a man who hoped soon to accomplish his mission, Michael wassingularly calm. Even in the gravest conjunctures, his energy hadnever abandoned him. He already saw the moment when he would be atlast allowed to think of his mother, of Nadia, of himself! He now onlydreaded one final unhappy chance; this was, that the raft might becompletely barred by ice before reaching Irkutsk. He thought but ofthis, determined beforehand, if necessary, to attempt some bold stroke.

  Restored by a few hours' rest, Nadia had regained the physical energywhich misery had sometimes overcome, although without ever having shakenher moral energy. She thought, too, that if Michael had to make anyfresh effort to attain his end, she must be there to guide him. But inproportion as she drew nearer to Irkutsk, the image of her father rosemore and more clearly before her mind. She saw him in the invested town,far from those he loved, but, as she never doubted, struggling againstthe invaders with all the spirit of his patriotism. In a few hours, ifHeaven favored them, she would be in his arms, giving him her mother'slast words, and nothing should ever separate them again. If the term ofWassili Fedor's exile should never come to an end, his daughter wouldremain exiled with him. Then, by a natural transition, she came backto him who would have enabled her to see her father once more, to thatgenerous companion, that "brother," who, the Tartars driven back, wouldretake the road to Moscow, whom she would perhaps never meet again!

  As to Alcide Jolivet and Harry Blount, they had one and the samethought, which was, that the situation was extremely dramatic, and that,well worked up, it would furnish a most deeply interesting article.The Englishman thought of the readers of the Daily Telegraph, and theFrenchman of those of his Cousin Madeleine. At heart, both were notwithout feeling some emotion.

  "Well, so much the better!" thought Alcide Jolivet, "to move others, onemust be moved one's self! I believe there is some celebrated verseon the subject, but hang me if I can recollect it!" And with hiswell-practiced eyes he endeavored to pierce the gloom of the river.

  Every now and then a burst of light dispelling the darkness for a time,exhibited the banks under some fantastic aspect--either a foreston fire, or a still burning village. The Angara was occasionallyilluminated from one bank to the other. The blocks of ice formed so manymirrors, which, reflecting the flames on every point and in everycolor, were whirled along by the caprice of the current. The raft passedunperceived in the midst of these floating masses.

  The danger was not at these points.

  But a peril of another nature menaced the fugitives. One that theycould not foresee, and, above all, one that they could not avoid. Chancediscovered it to Alcide Jolivet in this way:--Lying at the right sideof the raft, he let his hand hang over into the water. Suddenly he wassurprised by the impression made on it by the current. It seemed to beof a slimy consistency, as if it had been made of mineral oil. Alcide,aiding his touch by his sense of smell, could not be mistaken. It wasreally a layer of liquid naphtha, floating on the surface of the river!

  Was the raft really floating on this substance, which is in the highestdegree combustible? Where had this naphtha come from? Was it a naturalphenomenon taking place on the surface of the Angara, or was it to serveas an engine of destruction, put in motion by the Tartars? Did theyintend to carry conflagration into Irkutsk?

  Such were the questions which Alcide asked himself, but he thought itbest to make this incident known only to Harry Blount, and they bothagreed in not alarming their companions by revealing to them this newdanger.

  It is known that the soil of Central Asia is like a sponge impregnatedwith liquid hydrogen. At the port of Bakou, on the Persian frontier,on the Caspian Sea, in Asia Minor, in China, on the Yuen-Kiang, in theBurman Empire, springs of mineral oil rise in thousands to the surfaceof the ground. It is an "oil country," similar to the one which bearsthis name in North America.

  During certain religious festivals, principally at the port of Bakou,the natives, who are fire-worshipers, throw liquid naphtha on thesurface of the sea, which buoys it up, its density being inferior tothat of water. Then at nightfall, when a layer of mineral oil is thusspread over the Caspian, they light it, and exhibit the matchlessspectacle of an ocean of fire undulating and breaking into waves underthe breeze.

  But what is only a sign of rejoicing at Bakou, might prove a fearfuldisaster on the waters of the Angara. Whether it was set on fire bymalevolence or imprudence, in the twinkling of an eye a conflagrationmight spread beyond Irkutsk. On board the raft no imprudence was to befeared; but everything was to be dreaded from the conflagrations on bothbanks of the Angara, for should a lighted straw or even a spark blowinto the water, it would inevitably set the whole current of naphtha ina blaze.

  The apprehensions of Jolivet and Blount may be better understood thandescribed. Would it not be prudent, in face of this new danger, toland on one of the banks and wait there? "At any rate," said Alcide,"whatever the danger may be, I know some one who will not land!"

  He alluded to Michael Strogoff.

  In the meantime, on glided the raft among the masses of ice which weregradually getting closer and closer together. Up till then, no Tartardetachment had been seen, which showed that the raft was not abreast ofthe outposts. At about ten o'clock, however, Harry Blount caught sightof a number of black objects moving on the ice blocks. Springing fromone to the other, they rapidly approached.

  "Tartars!" he thought. And creeping up to the old boatman, he pointedout to him the suspicious objects.

  The old man looked attentively. "They are only wolves!" said he. "Ilike them better than Tartars. But we must defend ourselves, and withoutnoise!"

  The fugitives would indeed have
to defend themselves against theseferocious beasts, whom hunger and cold had sent roaming through theprovince. They had smelt out the raft, and would soon attack it. Thefugitives must struggle without using firearms, for they could not nowbe far from the Tartar posts. The women and children were collected inthe middle of the raft, and the men, some armed with poles, others withtheir knives, stood prepared to repulse their assailants. They did notmake a sound, but the howls of the wolves filled the air.

  Michael did not wish to remain inactive. He lay down at the sideattacked by the savage pack. He drew his knife, and every time that awolf passed within his reach, his hand found out the way to plunge hisweapon into its throat. Neither were Jolivet and Blount idle, but foughtbravely with the brutes. Their companions gallantly seconded them.The battle was carried on in silence, although many of the fugitivesreceived severe bites.

  The struggle did not appear as if it would soon terminate. The pack wasbeing continually reinforced from the right bank of the Angara. "Thiswill never be finished!" said Alcide, brandishing his dagger, red withblood.

  In fact, half an hour after the commencement of the attack, the wolveswere still coming in hundreds across the ice. The exhausted fugitiveswere getting weaker. The fight was going against them. At that moment, agroup of ten huge wolves, raging with hunger, their eyes glowing in thedarkness like red coals, sprang onto the raft. Jolivet and his companionthrew themselves into the midst of the fierce beasts, and Michael wasfinding his way towards them, when a sudden change took place.

  In a few moments the wolves had deserted not only the raft, but alsothe ice on the river. All the black bodies dispersed, and it was sooncertain that they had in all haste regained the shore. Wolves, likeother beasts of prey, require darkness for their proceedings, and atthat moment a bright light illuminated the entire river.

  It was the blaze of an immense fire. The whole of the small town ofPoshkavsk was burning. The Tartars were indeed there, finishing theirwork. From this point, they occupied both banks beyond Irkutsk. Thefugitives had by this time reached the dangerous part of their voyage,and they were still twenty miles from the capital.

  It was now half past eleven. The raft continued to glide on amongst theice, with which it was quite mingled, but gleams of light sometimesfell upon it. The fugitives stretched on the platform did not permitthemselves to make a movement by which they might be betrayed.

  The conflagration was going on with frightful rapidity. The houses,built of fir-wood, blazed like torches--a hundred and fifty flamingat once. With the crackling of the fire was mingled the yells of theTartars. The old boatman, getting a foothold on a near piece of ice,managed to shove the raft towards the right bank, by doing which adistance of from three to four hundred feet divided it from the flamesof Poshkavsk.

  Nevertheless, the fugitives, lighted every now and then by the glare,would have been undoubtedly perceived had not the incendiaries been toomuch occupied in their work of destruction.

  It may be imagined what were the apprehensions of Jolivet and Blount,when they thought of the combustible liquid on which the raft floated.Sparks flew in millions from the houses, which resembled so many glowingfurnaces. They rose among the volumes of smoke to a height of five orsix hundred feet. On the right bank, the trees and cliffs exposed tothe fire looked as if they likewise were burning. A spark falling on thesurface of the Angara would be sufficient to spread the flames along thecurrent, and to carry disaster from one bank to the other. The resultof this would be in a short time the destruction of the raft and of allthose which it carried.

  But, happily, the breeze did not blow from that side. It came from theeast, and drove the flames towards the left. It was just possible thatthe fugitives would escape this danger. The blazing town was at lastpassed. Little by little the glare grew dimmer, the crackling becamefainter, and the flames at last disappeared behind the high cliffs whicharose at an abrupt turn of the river.

  By this time it was nearly midnight. The deep gloom again threw itsprotecting shadows over the raft. The Tartars were there, going to andfro near the river. They could not be seen, but they could be heard. Thefires of the outposts burned brightly.

  In the meantime it had become necessary to steer more carefully amongthe blocks of ice. The old boatman stood up, and the moujiks resumedtheir poles. They had plenty of work, the management of the raftbecoming more and more difficult as the river was further obstructed.

  Michael had crept forward; Jolivet followed; both listened to what theold boatman and his men were saying.

  "Look out on the right!"

  "There are blocks drifting on to us on the left!"

  "Fend! fend off with your boat-hook!"

  "Before an hour is past we shall be stopped!"

  "If it is God's will!" answered the old man. "Against His will there isnothing to be done."

  "You hear them," said Alcide.

  "Yes," replied Michael, "but God is with us!"

  The situation became more and more serious. Should the raft be stopped,not only would the fugitives not reach Irkutsk, but they would beobliged to leave their floating platform, for it would be very soonsmashed to pieces in the ice. The osier ropes would break, the firtrunks torn asunder would drift under the hard crust, and the unhappypeople would have no refuge but the ice blocks themselves. Then, whenday came, they would be seen by the Tartars, and massacred withoutmercy!

  Michael returned to the spot where Nadia was waiting for him. Heapproached the girl, took her hand, and put to her the invariablequestion: "Nadia, are you ready?" to which she replied as usual, "I amready!"

  For a few versts more the raft continued to drift amongst the floatingice. Should the river narrow, it would soon form an impassable barrier.Already they seemed to drift slower. Every moment they encounteredsevere shocks or were compelled to make detours; now, to avoid runningfoul of a block, there to enter a channel, of which it was necessaryto take advantage. At length the stoppages became still more alarming.There were only a few more hours of night. Could the fugitives not reachIrkutsk by five o'clock in the morning, they must lose all hope of evergetting there at all.

  At half-past one, notwithstanding all efforts, the raft came up againsta thick barrier and stuck fast. The ice, which was drifting down behindit, pressed it still closer, and kept it motionless, as though it hadbeen stranded.

  At this spot the Angara narrowed, it being half its usual breadth.This was the cause of the accumulation of ice, which became graduallysoldered together, under the double influence of the increased pressureand of the cold. Five hundred feet beyond, the river widened again, andthe blocks, gradually detaching themselves from the floe, continued todrift towards Irkutsk. It was probable that had the banks not narrowed,the barrier would not have formed. But the misfortune was irreparable,and the fugitives must give up all hope of attaining their object.

  Had they possessed the tools usually employed by whalers to cut channelsthrough the ice-fields--had they been able to get through to where theriver widened--they might have been saved. But they had nothing whichcould make the least incision in the ice, hard as granite in theexcessive frost. What were they to do?

  At that moment several shots on the right bank startled the unhappyfugitives. A shower of balls fell on the raft. The devoted passengershad been seen. Immediately afterwards shots were heard fired from theleft bank. The fugitives, taken between two fires, became the mark ofthe Tartar sharpshooters. Several were wounded, although in the darknessit was only by chance that they were hit.

  "Come, Nadia," whispered Michael in the girl's ear.

  Without making a single remark, "ready for anything," Nadia tookMichael's hand.

  "We must cross the barrier," he said in a low tone. "Guide me, but letno one see us leave the raft."

  Nadia obeyed. Michael and she glided rapidly over the floe in theobscurity, only broken now and again by the flashes from the muskets.Nadia crept along in front of Michael. The shot fell around them like atempest of hail, and pattered on the ice. Their hands were
soon coveredwith blood from the sharp and rugged ice over which they clambered, butstill on they went.

  In ten minutes, the other side of the barrier was reached. Therethe waters of the Angara again flowed freely. Several pieces of ice,detached gradually from the floe, were swept along in the current downtowards the town. Nadia guessed what Michael wished to attempt. One ofthe blocks was only held on by a narrow strip.

  "Come," said Nadia. And the two crouched on the piece of ice, whichtheir weight detached from the floe.

  It began to drift. The river widened, the way was open. Michael andNadia heard the shots, the cries of distress, the yells of the Tartars.Then, little by little, the sounds of agony and of ferocious joy grewfaint in the distance.

  "Our poor companions!" murmured Nadia.

  For half an hour the current hurried along the block of ice which boreMichael and Nadia. They feared every moment that it would giveway beneath them. Swept along in the middle of the current, it wasunnecessary to give it an oblique direction until they drew near thequays of Irkutsk. Michael, his teeth tight set, his ear on the strain,did not utter a word. Never had he been so near his object. He felt thathe was about to attain it!

  Towards two in the morning a double row of lights glittered on the darkhorizon in which were confounded the two banks of the Angara. On theright hand were the lights of Irkutsk; on the left, the fires of theTartar camp.

  Michael Strogoff was not more than half a verst from the town. "Atlast!" he murmured.

  But suddenly Nadia uttered a cry.

  At the cry Michael stood up on the ice, which was wavering. His handwas extended up the Angara. His face, on which a bluish light cast apeculiar hue, became almost fearful to look at, and then, as if his eyeshad been opened to the bright blaze spreading across the river, "Ah!" heexclaimed, "then Heaven itself is against us!"