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Burroughs - "The Chessmen of Mars, by Edgar Rice Burroughs"

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Michael Strogoff

J >> Jules Verne >> Michael Strogoff




The young girl would no doubt have preferred not to
leave her companion, but she felt that he would rather be
alone, and she made ready to go to her room.

Just as she was about to retire she could not refrain from
going up to Michael to say good-night.

"Brother," she whispered. But he checked her with a
gesture. The girl sighed and left the room.

Michael Strogoff did not lie down. He could not have
slept even for an hour. The place on which he had been
struck by the brutal traveler felt like a burn.

"For my country and the Father," he muttered as he
ended his evening prayer.

He especially felt a great wish to know who was the
man who had struck him, whence he came, and where he
was going. As to his face, the features of it were so deeply
engraven on his memory that he had no fear of ever forget-
ting them.

Michael Strogoff at last asked for the postmaster. The
latter, a Siberian of the old type, came directly, and look-
ing rather contemptuously at the young man, waited to be
questioned.

"You belong to the country?" asked Michael.

"Yes."

"Do you know that man who took my horses?"

"No."

"Had you never seen him before?"

"Never."

"Who do you think he was?"

"A man who knows how to make himself obeyed."

Michael fixed his piercing gaze upon the Siberian, but
the other did not quail before it.

"Do you dare to judge me?" exclaimed Michael.

"Yes," answered the Siberian, "there are some things
even a plain merchant cannot receive without returning."

"Blows?"

"Blows, young man. I am of an age and strength to
tell you so."

Michael went up to the postmaster and laid his two
powerful hands on his shoulders.

Then in a peculiarly calm tone, "Be off, my friend," said
he: "be off! I could kill you."

The postmaster understood. "I like him better for
that," he muttered and retired without another word.

At eight o'clock the next morning, the 24th of July,
three strong horses were harnessed to the tarantass.
Michael Strogoff and Nadia took their places, and Ichim,
with its disagreeable remembrances, was soon left far be-
hind.

At the different relays at which they stopped during the
day Strogoff ascertained that the berlin still preceded them
on the road to Irkutsk, and that the traveler, as hurried as
they were, never lost a minute in pursuing his way across
the steppe.

At four o'clock in the evening they reached Abatskaia,
fifty miles farther on, where the Ichim, one of the principal
affluents of the Irtych, had to be crossed. This passage
was rather more difficult than that of the Tobol. Indeed
the current of the Ichim was very rapid just at that place.
During the Siberian winter, the rivers being all frozen to
a thickness of several feet, they are easily practicable, and
the traveler even crosses them without being aware of the
fact, for their beds have disappeared under the snowy sheet
spread uniformly over the steppe; but in summer the diffi-
culties of crossing are sometimes great.

In fact, two hours were taken up in making the passage
of the Ichim, which much exasperated Michael, especially
as the boatmen gave them alarming news of the Tartar in-
vasion. Some of Feofar-Khan's scouts had already ap-
peared on both banks of the lower Ichim, in the southern
parts of the government of Tobolsk. Omsk was threatened.
They spoke of an engagement which had taken place be-
tween the Siberian and Tartar troops on the frontier of the
great Kirghese horde -- an engagement not to the advantage
of the Russians, who were weak in numbers. The troops
had retreated thence, and in consequence there had been
a general emigration of all the peasants of the province.
The boatmen spoke of horrible atrocities committed by the
invaders -- pillage, theft, incendiarism, murder. Such was
the system of Tartar warfare.

The people all fled before Feofar-Khan. Michael
Strogoff's great fear was lest, in the depopulation of the
towns, he should be unable to obtain the means of transport.
He was therefore extremely anxious to reach Omsk. Per-
haps there they would get the start of the Tartar scouts,
who were coming down the valley of the Irtych, and would
find the road open to Irkutsk.

Just at the place where the tarantass crossed the river
ended what is called, in military language, the "Ichim
chain" -- a chain of towers, or little wooden forts, extending
from the southern frontier of Siberia for a distance of
nearly four hundred versts. Formerly these forts were
occupied by detachments of Cossacks, and they protected
the country against the Kirghese, as well as against the
Tartars. But since the Muscovite Government had believed
these hordes reduced to absolute submission, they had been
abandoned, and now could not be used; just at the time
when they were needed. Many of these forts had been re-
duced to ashes; and the boatmen even pointed out the smoke
to Michael, rising in the southern horizon, and showing the
approach of the Tartar advance-guard.

As soon as the ferryboat landed the tarantass on the
right bank of the Ichim, the journey across the steppe was
resumed with all speed. Michael Strogoff remained very
silent. He was, however, always attentive to Nadia, help-
ing her to bear the fatigue of this long journey without
break or rest; but the girl never complained. She longed
to give wings to the horses. Something told her that her
companion was even more anxious than herself to reach
Irkutsk; and how many versts were still between!

It also occurred to her that if Omsk was entered by the
Tartars, Michael's mother, who lived there, would be in
danger, and that this was sufficient to explain her son's im-
patience to get to her.

Nadia at last spoke to him of old Marfa, and of how un-
protected she would be in the midst of all these events.

"Have you received any news of your mother since the
beginning of the invasion?" she asked.

"None, Nadia. The last letter my mother wrote to me
contained good news. Marfa is a brave and energetic
Siberian woman. Notwithstanding her age, she has pre-
served all her moral strength. She knows how to suffer."

"I shall see her, brother," said Nadia quickly. "Since
you give me the name of sister, I am Marfa's daughter."

And as Michael did not answer she added:

"Perhaps your mother has been able to leave Omsk?"

"It is possible, Nadia," replied Michael; "and I hope
she may have reached Tobolsk. Marfa hates the Tartars.
She knows the steppe, and would have no fear in just tak-
ing her staff and going down the banks of the Irtych.
There is not a spot in all the province unknown to her.
Many times has she traveled all over the country with my
father; and many times I myself, when a mere child, have
accompanied them across the Siberian desert. Yes, Nadia,
I trust that my mother has left Omsk."

"And when shall you see her?"

"I shall see her -- on my return."

"If, however, your mother is still at Omsk, you will be
able to spare an hour to go to her?"

"I shall not go and see her."

"You will not see her?"

"No, Nadia," said Michael, his chest heaving as he felt
he could not go on replying to the girl's questions.

"You say no! Why, brother, if your mother is still at
Omsk, for what reason could you refuse to see her?"

"For what reason, Nadia? You ask me for what rea-
son," exclaimed Michael, in so changed a voice that the
young girl started. "For the same reason as that which
made me patient even to cowardice with the villain who --"
He could not finish his sentence.

"Calm yourself, brother," said Nadia in a gentle voice.
"I only know one thing, or rather I do not know it, I feel
it. It is that all your conduct is now directed by the senti-
ment of a duty more sacred -- if there can be one -- than
that which unites the son to the mother."

Nadia was silent, and from that moment avoided every
subject which in any way touched on Michael's peculiar
situation. He had a secret motive which she must respect.
She respected it.

The next day, July 25th, at three o'clock in the morning,
the tarantass arrived at Tioukalmsk, having accomplished
a distance of eighty miles since it had crossed the Ichim.
They rapidly changed horses. Here, however, for the first
time, the iemschik made difficulties about starting, declaring
that detachments of Tartars were roving across the steppe,
and that travelers, horses, and carriages would be a fine
prize for them.

Only by dint of a large bribe could Michael get over the
unwillingness of the iemschik, for in this instance, as in
many others, he did not wish to show his podorojna. The
last ukase, having been transmitted by telegraph, was known
in the Siberian provinces; and a Russian specially exempted
from obeying these words would certainly have drawn pub-
lic attention to himself -- a thing above all to be avoided by
the Czar's courier. As to the iemschik's hesitation, either
the rascal traded on the traveler's impatience or he really
had good reason to fear.

However, at last the tarantass started, and made such
good way that by three in the afternoon it had reached
Koulatsinskoe, fifty miles farther on. An hour after this
it was on the banks of the Irtych. Omsk was now only
fourteen miles distant.

The Irtych is a large river, and one of the principal of
those which flow towards the north of Asia. Rising in
the Altai Mountains, it flows from the southeast to the
northwest and empties itself into the Obi, after a course of
four thousand miles.

At this time of year, when all the rivers of the Siberian
basin are much swollen, the waters of the Irtych were very
high. In consequence the current was changed to a regular
torrent, rendering the passage difficult enough. A swim-
mer could not have crossed, however powerful; and even in
a ferryboat there would be some danger.

But Michael and Nadia, determined to brave all perils
whatever they might be, did not dream of shrinking from
this one. Michael proposed to his young companion that
he should cross first, embarking in the ferryboat with the
tarantass and horses, as he feared that the weight of this
load would render it less safe. After landing the carriage
he would return and fetch Nadia.

The girl refused. It would be the delay of an hour, and
she would not, for her safety alone, be the cause of it.

The embarkation was made not without difficulty, for
the banks were partly flooded and the boat could not get
in near enough. However, after half an hour's exertion,
the boatmen got the tarantass and the three horses on board.
The passengers embarked also, and they shoved off.

For a few minutes all went well. A little way up the
river the current was broken by a long point projecting
from the bank, and forming an eddy easily crossed by the
boat. The two boatmen propelled their barge with long
poles, which they handled cleverly; but as they gained the
middle of the stream it grew deeper and deeper, until at
last they could only just reach the bottom. The ends of
the poles were only a foot above the water, which rendered
their use difficult. Michael and Nadia, seated in the stern
of the boat, and always in dread of a delay, watched the
boatmen with some uneasiness.

"Look out!" cried one of them to his comrade.

The shout was occasioned by the new direction the boat
was rapidly taking. It had got into the direct current and
was being swept down the river. By diligent use of the
poles, putting the ends in a series of notches cut below the
gunwale, the boatmen managed to keep the craft against
the stream, and slowly urged it in a slanting direction to-
wards the right bank.

They calculated on reaching it some five or six versts
below the landing place; but, after all, that would not mat-
ter so long as men and beasts could disembark without ac-
cident. The two stout boatmen, stimulated moreover by
the promise of double fare, did not doubt of succeeding in
this difficult passage of the Irtych.

But they reckoned without an accident which they were
powerless to prevent, and neither their zeal nor their skill-
fulness could, under the circumstances, have done more.

The boat was in the middle of the current, at nearly equal
distances from either shore, and being carried down at the
rate of two versts an hour, when Michael, springing to his
feet, bent his gaze up the river.

Several boats, aided by oars as well as by the current,
were coming swiftly down upon them.

Michael's brow contracted, and a cry escaped him.

"What is the matter?" asked the girl.

But before Michael had time to reply one of the boatmen
exclaimed in an accent of terror:

"The Tartars! the Tartars!"

There were indeed boats full of soldiers, and in a few
minutes they must reach the ferryboat, it being too heavily
laden to escape from them.

The terrified boatmen uttered exclamations of despair and
dropped their poles.

"Courage, my friends!" cried Michael; "courage!
Fifty roubles for you if we reach the right bank before the
boats overtake us."

Incited by these words, the boatmen again worked man-
fully but it soon become evident that they could not escape
the Tartars.

It was scarcely probable that they would pass without
attacking them. On the contrary, there was everything to
be feared from robbers such as these.

"Do not be afraid, Nadia," said Michael; "but be ready
for anything."

"I am ready," replied Nadia.

"Even to leap into the water when I tell you?"

"Whenever you tell me."

"Have confidence in me, Nadia."

"I have, indeed!"

The Tartar boats were now only a hundred feet dis-
tant. They carried a detachment of Bokharian soldiers,
on their way to reconnoiter around Omsk.

The ferryboat was still two lengths from the shore. The
boatmen redoubled their efforts. Michael himself seized a
pole and wielded it with superhuman strength. If he could
land the tarantass and horses, and dash off with them, there
was some chance of escaping the Tartars, who were not
mounted.

But all their efforts were in vain. "Saryn na kitchou!"
shouted the soldiers from the first boat.

Michael recognized the Tartar war-cry, which is usually
answered by lying flat on the ground. As neither he nor
the boatmen obeyed a volley was let fly, and two of the
horses were mortally wounded.

At the next moment a violent blow was felt. The boats
had run into the ferryboat.

"Come, Nadia!" cried Michael, ready to jump over-
board.

The girl was about to follow him, when a blow from a
lance struck him, and he was thrown into the water. The
current swept him away, his hand raised for an instant
above the waves, and then he disappeared.

Nadia uttered a cry, but before she had time to throw
herself after him she was seized and dragged into one of
the boats. The boatmen were killed, the ferryboat left to
drift away, and the Tartars continued to descend the Irtych.


CHAPTER XIV
MOTHER AND SON

OMSK is the official capital of Western Siberia. It is not
the most important city of the government of that name,
for Tomsk has more inhabitants and is larger. But it is
at Omsk that the Governor-General of this the first half of
Asiatic Russia resides. Omsk, properly so called, is com-
posed of two distinct towns: one which is exclusively in-
habited by the authorities and officials; the other more
especially devoted to the Siberian merchants, although, in-
deed, the trade of the town is of small importance.

This city has about 12,000 to 13,000 inhabitants. It is
defended by walls, but these are merely of earth, and could
afford only insufficient protection. The Tartars, who were
well aware of this fact, consequently tried at this period to
carry it by main force, and in this they succeeded, after an
investment of a few days.

The garrison of Omsk, reduced to two thousand men, re-
sisted valiantly. But driven back, little by little, from the
mercantile portion of the place, they were compelled to
take refuge in the upper town.

It was there that the Governor-General, his officers, and
soldiers had entrenched themselves. They had made the
upper quarter of Omsk a kind of citadel, and hitherto they
held out well in this species of improvised "kreml," but
without much hope of the promised succor. The Tartar
troops, who were descending the Irtych, received every day
fresh reinforcements, and, what was more serious, they
were led by an officer, a traitor to his country, but a man
of much note, and of an audacity equal to any emergency.
This man was Colonel Ivan Ogareff.

Ivan Ogareff, terrible as any of the most savage Tartar
chieftains, was an educated soldier. Possessing on his
mother's side some Mongolian blood, he delighted in de-
ceptive strategy and ambuscades, stopping short of nothing
when he desired to fathom some secret or to set some trap.
Deceitful by nature, he willingly had recourse to the vilest
trickery; lying when occasion demanded, excelling in the
adoption of all disguises and in every species of deception.
Further, he was cruel, and had even acted as an executioner.
Feofar-Khan possessed in him a lieutenant well capable of
seconding his designs in this savage war.

When Michael Strogoff arrived on the banks of the
Irtych, Ivan Ogareff was already master of Omsk, and was
pressing the siege of the upper quarter of the town all the
more eagerly because he must hasten to Tomsk, where the
main body of the Tartar army was concentrated.

Tomsk, in fact, had been taken by Feofar-Khan some
days previously, and it was thence that the invaders, masters
of Central Siberia, were to march upon Irkutsk.

Irkutsk was the real object of Ivan Ogareff. The plan
of the traitor was to reach the Grand Duke under a false
name, to gain his confidence, and to deliver into Tartar
hands the town and the Grand Duke himself. With such
a town, and such a hostage, all Asiatic Siberia must neces-
sarily fall into the hands of the invaders. Now it was
known that the Czar was acquainted with this conspiracy,
and that it was for the purpose of baffling it that a courier
had been intrusted with the important warning. Hence,
therefore, the very stringent instructions which had been
given to the young courier to pass incognito through the
invaded district.

This mission he had so far faithfully performed, but now
could he carry it to a successful completion?

The blow which had struck Michael Strogoff was not
mortal. By swimming in a manner by which he had
effectually concealed himself, he had reached the right bank,
where he fell exhausted among the bushes.

When he recovered his senses, he found himself in the
cabin of a mujik, who had picked him up and cared for him.
For how long a time had he been the guest of this brave
Siberian? He could not guess. But when he opened his
eyes he saw the handsome bearded face bending over him,
and regarding him with pitying eyes. "Do not speak,
little father," said the mujik, "Do not speak! Thou art
still too weak. I will tell thee where thou art and every-
thing that has passed."

And the mujik related to Michael Strogoff the different
incidents of the struggle which he had witnessed -- the at-
tack upon the ferry by the Tartar boats, the pillage of the
tarantass, and the massacre of the boatmen.

But Michael Strogoff listened no longer, and slipping his
hand under his garment he felt the imperial letter still
secured in his breast. He breathed a sigh of relief.

But that was not all. "A young girl accompanied me,"
said he.

"They have not killed her," replied the mujik, anticipat-
ing the anxiety which he read in the eyes of his guest.
"They have carried her off in their boat, and have con-
tinued the descent of Irtych. It is only one prisoner more
to join the many they are taking to Tomsk!"

Michael Strogoff was unable to reply. He pressed his
hand upon his heart to restrain its beating. But, notwith-
standing these many trials, the sentiment of duty mastered
his whole soul. "Where am I?" asked he.

"Upon the right bank of the Irtych, only five versts from
Omsk," replied the mujik.

"What wound can I have received which could have thus
prostrated me? It was not a gunshot wound?"

"No; a lance-thrust in the head, now healing," replied
the mujik. "After a few days' rest, little father, thou wilt
be able to proceed. Thou didst fall into the river; but the
Tartars neither touched nor searched thee; and thy purse
is still in thy pocket."

Michael Strogoff gripped the mujik's hand. Then, re-
covering himself with a sudden effort, "Friend," said he,
"how long have I been in thy hut?"

"Three days."

"Three days lost!"

"Three days hast thou lain unconscious."

"Hast thou a horse to sell me?"

"Thou wishest to go?"

"At once."

"I have neither horse nor carriage, little father. Where
the Tartar has passed there remains nothing!"

"Well, I will go on foot to Omsk to find a horse."

"A few more hours of rest, and thou wilt be in a better
condition to pursue thy journey."

"Not an hour!"

"Come now," replied the mujik, recognizing the fact
that it was useless to struggle against the will of his guest,
"I will guide thee myself. Besides," he added, "the
Russians are still in great force at Omsk, and thou couldst,
perhaps, pass unperceived."

"Friend," replied Michael Strogoff, "Heaven reward thee
for all thou hast done for me!"

"Only fools expect reward on earth," replied the mujik.

Michael Strogoff went out of the hut. When he tried
to walk he was seized with such faintness that, without the
assistance of the mujik, he would have fallen; but the fresh
air quickly revived him. He then felt the wound in his
head, the violence of which his fur cap had lessened. With
the energy which he possessed, he was not a man to suc-
cumb under such a trifle. Before his eyes lay a single goal
-- far-distant Irkutsk. He must reach it! But he must
pass through Omsk without stopping there.

"God protect my mother and Nadia!" he murmured.
"I have no longer the right to think of them!"

Michael Strogoff and the mujik soon arrived in the mer-
cantile quarter of the lower town. The surrounding earth-
work had been destroyed in many places, and there were
the breaches through which the marauders who followed
the armies of Feofar-Khan had penetrated. Within Omsk,
in its streets and squares, the Tartar soldiers swarmed like
ants; but it was easy to see that a hand of iron imposed
upon them a discipline to which they were little accus-
tomed. They walked nowhere alone, but in armed groups,
to defend themselves against surprise.

In the chief square, transformed into a camp, guarded
by many sentries, 2,000 Tartars bivouacked. The horses,
picketed but still saddled, were ready to start at the first
order. Omsk could only be a temporary halting-place for
this Tartar cavalry, which preferred the rich plains of East-
ern Siberia, where the towns were more wealthy, and, con-
sequently, pillage more profitable.

Above the mercantile town rose the upper quarter, which
Ivan Ogareff, notwithstanding several assaults vigorously
made but bravely repelled, had not yet been able to reduce.
Upon its embattled walls floated the national colors of
Russia.

It was not without a legitimate pride that Michael
Strogoff and his guide, vowing fidelity, saluted them.

Michael Strogoff was perfectly acquainted with the town
of Omsk, and he took care to avoid those streets which were
much frequented. This was not from any fear of being
recognized. In the town his old mother only could have
called him by name, but he had sworn not to see her, and he
did not. Besides -- and he wished it with his whole heart --
she might have fled into some quiet portion of the steppe.

The mujik very fortunately knew a postmaster who, if
well paid, would not refuse at his request either to let or
to sell a carriage or horses. There remained the difficulty
of leaving the town, but the breaches in the fortifications
would, of course, facilitate his departure.

The mujik was accordingly conducting his guest straight
to the posting-house, when, in a narrow street, Michael
Strogoff, coming to a sudden stop sprang behind a jutting
wall.

"What is the matter?" asked the astonished mujik.

"Silence!" replied Michael, with his finger on his lips.
At this moment a detachment debouched from the principal
square into the street which Michael Strogoff and his com-
panion had just been following.

At the head of the detachment, composed of twenty
horsemen, was an officer dressed in a very simple uniform.
Although he glanced rapidly from one side to the other he
could not have seen Michael Strogoff, owing to his precipi-
tous retreat.

The detachment went at full trot into the narrow street.
Neither the officer nor his escort concerned themselves about
the inhabitants. Several unlucky ones had scarcely time to
make way for their passage. There were a few half-stifled
cries, to which thrusts of the lance gave an instant reply,
and the street was immediately cleared.

When the escort had disappeared, "Who is that officer?"
asked Michael Strogoff. And while putting the question
his face was pale as that of a corpse.

"It is Ivan Ogareff," replied the Siberian, in a deep voice
which breathed hatred.

"He!" cried Michael Strogoff, from whom the word
escaped with a fury he could not conquer. He had just
recognized in this officer the traveler who had struck him
at the posting-house of Ichim. And, although he had only
caught a glimpse of him, it burst upon his mind, at the
same time, that this traveler was the old Zingari whose
words he had overheard in the market place of Nijni-Nov-
gorod.

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