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Michael Strogoff

J >> Jules Verne >> Michael Strogoff




The only anxiety exhibited at times by the old boatman was
concerning the formation of ice on the surface of the water.
The night had been excessively cold; pieces of ice could
be seen drifting towards the West. Nothing was to be
dreaded from these, since they could not drift into the
Angara, having already passed the mouth; but pieces from
the Eastern end of the lake might be drawn by the current
between the banks of the river; this would cause difficulty,
possibly delay, and perhaps even an insurmountable obstacle
which would stop the raft.

Michael therefore took immense interest in ascertaining
what was the state of the lake, and whether any large num-
ber of ice blocks appeared. Nadia being now awake, he
questioned her often, and she gave him an account of all
that was going on.

Whilst the blocks were thus drifting, curious phenomena
were taking place on the surface of the Baikal. Magnifi-
cent jets, from springs of boiling water, shot up from some
of those artesian wells which Nature has bored in the very
bed of the lake. These jets rose to a great height and
spread out in vapor, which was illuminated by the solar
rays, and almost immediately condensed by the cold. This
curious sight would have assuredly amazed a tourist travel-
ing in peaceful times on this Siberian sea.

At four in the evening, the mouth of the Angara was
signaled by the old boatman, between the high granite rocks
of the shore. On the right bank could be seen the little
port of Livenitchnaia, its church, and its few houses built
on the bank. But the serious thing was that the ice blocks
from the East were already drifting between the banks of
the Angara, and consequently were descending towards
Irkutsk. However, their number was not yet great enough
to obstruct the course of the raft, nor the cold great enough
to increase their number.

The raft arrived at the little port and there stopped.
The old boatman wished to put into harbor for an hour, in
order to make some repairs. The trunks threatened to
separate, and it was important to fasten them more securely
together to resist the rapid current of the Angara.

The old boatman did not expect to receive any fresh
fugitives at Livenitchnaia, and yet, the moment the raft
touched, two passengers, issuing from a deserted house,
ran as fast as they could towards the beach.

Nadia seated on the raft, was abstractedly gazing at the
shore. A cry was about to escape her. She seized
Michael's hand, who at that moment raised his head.

"What is the matter, Nadia?" he asked.

"Our two traveling companions, Michael."

"The Frenchman and the Englishman whom we met in
the defiles of the Ural?"

"Yes."

Michael started, for the strict incognito which he wished
to keep ran a risk of being betrayed. Indeed, it was no
longer as Nicholas Korpanoff that Jolivet and Blount would
now see him, but as the true Michael Strogoff, Courier of
the Czar. The two correspondents had already met him
twice since their separation at the Ichim post-house -- the
first time at the Zabediero camp, when he laid open Ivan
Ogareff's face with the knout; the second time at Tomsk,
when he was condemned by the Emir. They therefore
knew who he was and what depended on him.

Michael Strogoff rapidly made up his mind. "Nadia,"
said he, "when they step on board, ask them to come to
me!"

It was, in fact, Blount and Jolivet, whom the course of
events had brought to the port of Livenitchnaia, as it had
brought Michael Strogoff. As we know, after having been
present at the entry of the Tartars into Tomsk, they had
departed before the savage execution which terminated the
fete. They had therefore never suspected that their former
traveling companion had not been put to death, but blinded
by order of the Emir.

Having procured horses they had left Tomsk the same
evening, with the fixed determination of henceforward dat-
ing their letters from the Russian camp of Eastern Siberia.
They proceeded by forced marches towards Irkutsk. They
hoped to distance Feofar-Khan, and would certainly have
done so, had it not been for the unexpected apparition of
the third column, come from the South, up the valley of
the Yenisei. They had been cut off, as had been Michael,
before being able even to reach the Dinka, and had been
obliged to go back to Lake Baikal.

They had been in the place for three days in much per-
plexity, when the raft arrived. The fugitives' plan was
explained to them. There was certainly a chance that they
might be able to pass under cover of the night, and penetrate
into Irkutsk. They resolved to make the attempt.

Alcide directly communicated with the old boatman, and
asked a passage for himself and his companion, offering to
pay anything he demanded, whatever it might be.

"No one pays here," replied the old man gravely; "every
one risks his life, that is all!"

The two correspondents came on board, and Nadia saw
them take their places in the forepart of the raft. Harry
Blount was still the reserved Englishman, who had scarcely
addressed a word to her during the whole passage over the
Ural Mountains. Alcide Jolivet seemed to be rather more
grave than usual, and it may be acknowledged that his
gravity was justified by the circumstances.

Jolivet had, as has been said, taken his seat on the raft,
when he felt a hand laid on his arm. Turning, he recog-
nized Nadia, the sister of the man who was no longer
Nicholas Korpanoff, but Michael Strogoff, Courier of the
Czar. He was about to make an exclamation of surprise
when he saw the young girl lay her finger on her lips.

"Come," said Nadia. And with a careless air, Alcide
rose and followed her, making a sign to Blount to accom-
pany him.

But if the surprise of the correspondents had been great
at meeting Nadia on the raft it was boundless when they
perceived Michael Strogoff, whom they had believed to be
no longer living.

Michael had not moved at their approach. Jolivet turned
towards the girl. "He does not see you, gentlemen," said
Nadia. "The Tartars have burnt out his eyes! My poor
brother is blind!"

A feeling of lively compassion exhibited itself on the
faces of Blount and his companion. In a moment they
were seated beside Michael, pressing his hand and waiting
until he spoke to them.

"Gentlemen," said Michael, in a low voice, "you ought
not to know who I am, nor what I am come to do in Siberia.
I ask you to keep my secret. Will you promise me to do
so?"

"On my honor," answered Jolivet.

"On my word as a gentleman," added Blount.

"Good, gentlemen."

"Can we be of any use to you?" asked Harry Blount.
"Could we not help you to accomplish your task?"

"I prefer to act alone," replied Michael.

"But those blackguards have destroyed your sight," said
Alcide.

"I have Nadia, and her eyes are enough for me!"

In half an hour the raft left the little port of Livenitch-
naia, and entered the river. It was five in the evening
and getting dusk. The night promised to be dark and very
cold also, for the temperature was already below zero.

Alcide and Blount, though they had promised to keep
Michael's secret, did not leave him. They talked in a low
voice, and the blind man, adding what they told him to
what he already knew, was able to form an exact idea of
the state of things. It was certain that the Tartars had
actually invested Irkutsk, and that the three columns had
effected a junction. There was no doubt that the Emir
and Ivan Ogareff were before the capital.

But why did the Czar's courier exhibit such haste to get
there, now that the Imperial letter could no longer be given
by him to the Grand Duke, and when he did not even know
the contents of it? Alcide Jolivet and Blount could not
understand it any more than Nadia had done.

No one spoke of the past, except when Jolivet thought
it his duty to say to Michael, "We owe you some apology
for not shaking hands with you when we separated at
Ichim."

"No, you had reason to think me a coward!"

"At any rate," added the Frenchman, "you knouted the
face of that villain finely, and he will carry the mark of it
for a long time!"

"No, not a long time!" replied Michael quietly.

Half an hour after leaving Livenitchnaia, Blount and
his companion were acquainted with the cruel trials through
which Michael and his companion had successively passed.
They could not but heartily admire his energy, which was
only equaled by the young girl's devotion. Their opinion
of Michael was exactly what the Czar had expressed at
Moscow: "Indeed, this is a Man!"

The raft swiftly threaded its way among the blocks of
ice which were carried along in the current of the Angara.
A moving panorama was displayed on both sides of the
river, and, by an optical illusion, it appeared as if it was
the raft which was motionless before a succession of pic-
turesque scenes. Here were high granite cliffs, there wild
gorges, down which rushed a torrent; sometimes appeared
a clearing with a still smoking village, then thick pine forests
blazing. But though the Tartars had left their traces on
all sides, they themselves were not to be seen as yet, for they
were more especially massed at the approaches to Irkutsk.

All this time the pilgrims were repeating their prayers
aloud, and the old boatman, shoving away the blocks of
ice which pressed too near them, imperturbably steered the
raft in the middle of the rapid current of the Angara.


CHAPTER XI
BETWEEN TWO BANKS

BY eight in the evening, the country, as the state of the
sky had foretold, was enveloped in complete darkness. The
moon being new had not yet risen. From the middle of the
river the banks were invisible. The cliffs were confounded
with the heavy, low-hanging clouds. At intervals a puff of
wind came from the east, but it soon died away in the
narrow valley of the Angara.

The darkness could not fail to favor in a considerable
degree the plans of the fugitives. Indeed, although the
Tartar outposts must have been drawn up on both banks,
the raft had a good chance of passing unperceived. It was
not likely either that the besiegers would have barred the
river above Irkutsk, since they knew that the Russians
could not expect any help from the south of the province.
Besides this, before long Nature would herself establish a
barrier, by cementing with frost the blocks of ice accumu-
lated between the two banks.

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

The drifting of the ice was a favorable circumstance so
long as it did not offer an insurmountable obstacle to the
passage of the raft. If that object had been alone on the
water, it would have run a risk of being seen, even in the
darkness, but, as it was, it was confounded with these mov-
ing masses, of all shapes and sizes, and the tumult caused
by the crashing of the blocks against each other concealed
likewise any suspicious noises.

There was a sharp frost. The fugitives suffered cruelly,
having no other shelter than a few branches of birch. They
cowered down together, endeavoring to keep each other
warm, the temperature being now ten degrees below freezing
point. The wind, though slight, having passed over the
snow-clad mountains of the east, pierced them through and
through.

Michael and Nadia, lying in the afterpart of the raft,
bore this increase of suffering without complaint. Jolivet
and Blount, placed near them, stood these first assaults of
the Siberian winter as well as they could. No one now
spoke, even in a low voice. Their situation entirely ab-
sorbed them. At any moment an incident might occur,
which they could not escape unscathed.

For a man who hoped soon to accomplish his mission,
Michael was singularly calm. Even in the gravest con-
junctures, his energy had never abandoned him. He al-
ready saw the moment when he would be at last allowed
to think of his mother, of Nadia, of himself! He now only
dreaded one final unhappy chance; this was, that the raft
might be completely barred by ice before reaching Irkutsk.
He thought but of this, determined beforehand, if neces-
sary, to attempt some bold stroke.

Restored by a few hours' rest, Nadia had regained the
physical energy which misery had sometimes overcome, al-
though without ever having shaken her moral energy. She
thought, too, that if Michael had to make any fresh effort
to attain his end, she must be there to guide him. But in
proportion as she drew nearer to Irkutsk, the image of her
father rose more and more clearly before her mind. She
saw him in the invested town, far from those he loved,
but, as she never doubted, struggling against the invaders
with all the spirit of his patriotism. In a few hours, if
Heaven favored them, she would be in his arms, giving
him her mother's last words, and nothing should ever sep-
arate them again. If the term of Wassili Fedor's exile
should never come to an end, his daughter would remain
exiled with him. Then, by a natural transition, she came
back to him who would have enabled her to see her father
once more, to that generous companion, that "brother,"
who, the Tartars driven back, would retake the road to
Moscow, whom she would perhaps never meet again!

As to Alcide Jolivet and Harry Blount, they had one and
the same thought, which was, that the situation was ex-
tremely dramatic, and that, well worked up, it would fur-
nish a most deeply interesting article. The Englishman
thought of the readers of the Daily Telegraph, and the
Frenchman of those of his Cousin Madeleine. At heart,
both were not without feeling some emotion.

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

Every now and then a burst of light dispelling the dark-
ness for a time, exhibited the banks under some fantastic
aspect -- either a forest on fire, or a still burning village.
The Angara was occasionally illuminated from one bank to
the other. The blocks of ice formed so many mirrors,
which, reflecting the flames on every point and in every
color, were whirled along by the caprice of the current.
The raft passed unperceived 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 they could not foresee, and, above all, one that
they could not avoid. Chance discovered it to Alcide
Jolivet in this way: -- Lying at the right side of the raft,
he let his hand hang over into the water. Suddenly he
was surprised by the impression made on it by the current.
It seemed to be of 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 was really a layer of
liquid naphtha, floating on the surface of the river!

Was the raft really floating on this substance, which is
in the highest degree combustible? Where had this naphtha
come from? Was it a natural phenomenon taking place on
the surface of the Angara, or was it to serve as an engine
of destruction, put in motion by the Tartars? Did they
intend to carry conflagration into Irkutsk?

Such were the questions which Alcide asked himself, but
he thought it best to make this incident known only to Harry
Blount, and they both agreed in not alarming their compan-
ions by revealing to them this new danger.

It is known that the soil of Central Asia is like a sponge
impregnated with 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 the Burman Empire,
springs of mineral oil rise in thousands to the surface of
the ground. It is an "oil country," similar to the one
which bears this name in North America.

During certain religious festivals, principally at the port
of Bakou, the natives, who are fire-worshipers, throw
liquid naphtha on the surface of the sea, which buoys it up,
its density being inferior to that of water. Then at night-
fall, when a layer of mineral oil is thus spread over the
Caspian, they light it, and exhibit the matchless spectacle
of an ocean of fire undulating and breaking into waves
under the breeze.

But what is only a sign of rejoicing at Bakou, might
prove a fearful disaster on the waters of the Angara.
Whether it was set on fire by malevolence or imprudence,
in the twinkling of an eye a conflagration might spread be-
yond Irkutsk. On board the raft no imprudence was to be
feared; but everything was to be dreaded from the con-
flagrations on both banks of the Angara, for should a lighted
straw or even a spark blow into the water, it would in-
evitably set the whole current of naphtha in a blaze.

The apprehensions of Jolivet and Blount may be better
understood than described. Would it not be prudent, in
face of this new danger, to land 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 were gradually getting closer and closer to-
gether. Up till then, no Tartar detachment had been seen,
which showed that the raft was not abreast of the outposts.
At about ten o'clock, however, Harry Blount caught sight
of a number of black objects moving on the ice blocks.
Springing from one to the other, they rapidly approached.

"Tartars!" he thought. And creeping up to the old boat-
man, he pointed out to him the suspicious objects.

The old man looked attentively. "They are only
wolves!" said he. "I like them better than Tartars. But
we must defend ourselves, and without noise!"

The fugitives would indeed have to defend themselves
against these ferocious beasts, whom hunger and cold had
sent roaming through the province. They had smelt out
the raft, and would soon attack it. The fugitives must
struggle without using firearms, for they could not now be
far from the Tartar posts. The women and children were
collected in the middle of the raft, and the men, some armed
with poles, others with their knives, stood prepared to re-
pulse their assailants. They did not make a sound, but the
howls of the wolves filled the air.

Michael did not wish to remain inactive. He lay down
at the side attacked by the savage pack. He drew his
knife, and every time that a wolf passed within his reach,
his hand found out the way to plunge his weapon into its
throat. Neither were Jolivet and Blount idle, but fought
bravely with the brutes. Their companions gallantly
seconded them. The battle was carried on in silence, al-
though many of the fugitives received severe bites.

The struggle did not appear as if it would soon termi-
nate. The pack was being continually reinforced from the
right bank of the Angara. "This will never be finished!"
said Alcide, brandishing his dagger, red with blood.

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

In a few moments the wolves had deserted not only the
raft, but also the ice on the river. All the black bodies dis-
persed, and it was soon certain that they had in all haste
regained the shore. Wolves, like other beasts of prey, re-
quire darkness for their proceedings, and at that moment a
bright light illuminated the entire river.

It was the blaze of an immense fire. The whole of the
small town of Poshkavsk was burning. The Tartars were
indeed there, finishing their work. From this point, they
occupied both banks beyond Irkutsk. The fugitives 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 the ice, with which it was quite mingled, but
gleams of light sometimes fell upon it. The fugitives
stretched on the platform did not permit themselves 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 hun-
dred and fifty flaming at once. With the crackling of
the fire was mingled the yells of the Tartars. The old
boatman, getting a foothold on a near piece of ice, managed
to shove the raft towards the right bank, by doing which a
distance of from three to four hundred feet divided it from
the flames of Poshkavsk.

Nevertheless, the fugitives, lighted every now and then
by the glare, would have been undoubtedly perceived had
not the incendiaries been too much 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 glowing fur-
naces. They rose among the volumes of smoke to a height
of five or six hundred feet. On the right bank, the trees
and cliffs exposed to the fire looked as if they likewise were
burning. A spark falling on the surface of the Angara
would be sufficient to spread the flames along the current,
and to carry disaster from one bank to the other. The re-
sult of this would be in a short time the destruction of the
raft and of all those which it carried.

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

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

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

Michael had crept forward; Jolivet followed; both lis-
tened to what the old 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 is nothing 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 be obliged to leave their floating
platform, for it would be very soon smashed to pieces in
the ice. The osier ropes would break, the fir trunks torn
asunder would drift under the hard crust, and the unhappy
people would have no refuge but the ice blocks themselves.
Then, when day came, they would be seen by the Tartars,
and massacred without mercy!

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

For a few versts more the raft continued to drift amongst
the floating ice. Should the river narrow, it would soon
form an impassable barrier. Already they seemed to drift
slower. Every moment they encountered severe shocks or
were compelled to make detours; now, to avoid running
foul of a block, there to enter a channel, of which it was
necessary to take advantage. At length the stoppages be-
came still more alarming. There were only a few more
hours of night. Could the fugitives not reach Irkutsk by
five o'clock in the morning, they must lose all hope of ever
getting there at all.

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

At this spot the Angara narrowed, it being half its usual
breadth. This was the cause of the accumulation of ice,
which became gradually soldered together, under the double
influence of the increased pressure and of the cold. Five
hundred feet beyond, the river widened again, and the
blocks, gradually detaching themselves from the floe, con-
tinued to drift 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.

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