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desperate. While she held the horses, Sherwood dismounted, and at gunpoint
recklessly interrogated one injured guard after another. Finally one of men,
demoralized by injuries and threats, told him through Natalya's translation
that the man called Gregori Lohmatski had been taken out of the convoy only a
few hours ago, this very morning, freed of his leg irons and put on a horse,
then hurried on to Irkutsk in the midst of a special escort formed by a squad
of cavalry.
Sherwood jabbed the man with his rifle barrel. "You saw them do this, with
your own eyes?"
"Da, da!"
"Why was it done?"
The guard had no idea or so he claimed.
"How do you know they took him to Irkutsk?"
The man said he had heard the officer in charge of the cavalry tell that to
the commander of the prison convoy a man who now unfortunately was dead, and
could not be called upon for confirmation.
At this point a voluble prisoner, a baby-faced youth who looked about twenty
years old, came forward, gave the dying guard a casual kick in passing,
presented himself before the successful raiders with a kind of military
salute, and announced that he had become a friend of Gregori Ivanovich in
prison, and what the dying guard had just told them about that fine man was
quite true.
Sherwood growled and aimed a weapon at the youth. Natalya demanded: "Who are
you?"
"Anton Fedorovich Miushkin, at your service." For just a moment Sherwood had
the impression that the young man (who had somehow freed himself of his leg
irons with the speed of a magician) was about to click his ill-shod heels and
bow.
"And what can you tell us about my brother, Comrade Miushkin?" Under stress,
Natalya fell into an old revolutionary mode of address then, in a hasty aside,
relayed to Sherwood what the man had just said. In the background, prisoners
moving singly and in pairs, many with unfettered feet, continued to vanish in
a steady trickle into the woods.
The prisoner complimented his interrogators on the planning and execution of
their bold rescue attempt and assured them he had much information to convey.
Once again he went over the circumstances of Gregori's departure.
At that point, Miushkin paused to observe that a little food would be good to
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have, as well as a change of clothing. Casually he helped himself to a dead
officer's pistol, belt, holster and all. He announced that he might as well
ride on with Natalya and Sherwood, for a little way at least, as long as they
seemed to have an extra horse available. He wanted to join their band he kept
shooting glances around the horizon, evidently assuming that a sizable group
had made the attack and more of them would appear at any moment.
They searched a little longer, calling Gregori's name a few more times.
For a minute or two longer, Miushkin ran alongside them, calling Gregori's
name. Then he broke off to assure Natalya once more: "I tell you, Mistress,
your unfortunate brother is gone."
There was nothing to do but ride off, a trio debating in two languages,
leaving the confused mass of freed prisoners and injured guards to shift for
themselves as best they might.
Somehow or other, it seemed easier to allow Miushkin to come along than to
take the stern measures which would obviously be required to get rid of him.
Anton Fedorovich now quickly climbed aboard the spare horse.
Even while he made every effort to attach himself to his liberators, Miushkin
savagely discouraged other prisoners from trying to join the little group.
There were no more horses available anyway; the soldiers' mounts whose saddles
had been emptied had all run off, or had already been commandeered by convicts
who had managed to get free of their leg irons, and who were putting into
practice their individual ideas as to what to do with their new freedom.
Pressed for more information, Miushkin described in convincing detail how,
during the long days while they were both confined in the Tomsk Forwarding
Prison, he had seen Gregori Ivanovich writing letters.
"Would Greg try to change identities with someone else?" "He might let
himself be talked into it. He's such an innocent about some things&
ordinarily, that would be a mistake for a political prisoner. In fact it's a
trick that's been worked time and again by the realistic criminals on the
naive politicals. The guards at the mines and prisons don't give a damn what a
man's right name is, or whether he belongs there or not, as long as the number
of prisoners comes out right and they can't be blamed for allowing an escape.
"The truth is that a mistake in a prisoner's identity, once made, is almost
never rectified. Admitting a mistake, redoing all the paper-work that would
cause too much trouble and bother for the guards and the clerks who keep the
system functioning if that's the right word to describe what it does. The
convicts in the mines are worked much harder, under even worse conditions than
the political exiles. "But of course, in Gregori's case, a switch might have
been the wisest thing that he could do."
Twenty-four
Looking back over her shoulder, Natalya hesitated. A hundred or so wretched
prisoners, through fear, or weakness, or hunger, or sheer inertia, had not yet
melted away into the woods and fields. She appeared to be on the verge of
wheeling her horse around and plunging back in among them to continue the
search for Gregori.
But Sherwood pulled his mount beside hers, yelled at her and grabbed her arm.
"Natalya, come to your senses! Come on! If he had been there, we'd have found
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him!"
"You are right." There was nothing to do now but ride on, leaving the
confused mass of freed convicts, and the terrorized remnant of their guards,
to resolve the situation somehow for themselves.
Not until they had ridden half a verst did Sherwood look closely at the
talkative prisoner who had begged and pleaded to come with them. Then the
American, his temper still set at ursine pitch, began glowering at the man
suspiciously. His first impulse was to drive Miushkin away, employing whatever
level of violence proved necessary. He began to order the man, at gunpoint, to
turn away.
Again Natalya had to plead the convict's cause. "He may be able to tell us
something more about Gregori. Besides, he is a victim just as we are."
Because Natalya was so desperate for more news of Gregori, Sherwood tolerated
the brash presence. The fellow, keeping his seat rather skillfully on his
newly acquired horse, had begun to retreat in the face of Sherwood's wrath,
but he did not go far. He continued to follow the couple at a little distance,
until presently Sherwood relented and waved him forward.
On rejoining the couple, Miushkin gazed at them uncomprehendingly as they
conversed in English. In Russian he swore fervently that he was loyal and
dependable.
Sherwood remained unconvinced. "Well, what would you expect a man to say?"
When Natalya had translated Sherwood's demand to know why he had been
arrested, Miushkin, calling upon the Holy Virgin of Kazan as his witness,
claimed that it had all been a hideous mistake, he had been unjustly accused.
His trial had been a farce, and he had been convicted with no real evidence
against him. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]