第 5 页

So similar was this to his own case that Ivor made a partial confidant of the old man, not going into particulars, however, but merely explaining that he too was the innocent victim of a cruel plot. For two reasons their confidences did not go any farther. The past was a melancholy and distasteful subject to both, and the future had stronger claims upon the brief time which was afforded them for conversation.

The old man knew his companion as Ivor, and whether Gogol was a Christian name or a surname Ivor never took the trouble to ask. It was a matter of indifference to both. At least they thought so then.

Though the chances of escape formed the burden of their conversation, the solution of the problem never seemed to come any nearer. Various plans were discussed, but in each some flaw was found. At one point the mainland was only twelve miles distant from the shore of the island, but to cross the narrow strait without a boat was impossible. And once on the mainland which way could they turn for safety? Ivor suggested that they should take to sea, if ever an opportunity offered, and try to reach the northern end of Japan. Gogol, however, had fears of the water, and would not risk the venture.

"We will find a way some time," he said vaguely. "It must be in summer, of course. Have patience, my boy. All things come to him who waits."

It was very hard for Ivor to be patient under the circumstances, but he hid his feelings as well as he could and kept on inventing new plans for escape, night after night, only to have them shattered by Gogol's clearer headed logic. But he was grateful for the companionship of the old man, and in spite of discouragements a hope took deep root in his heart that someday he would escape to bring a terrible and deserved retribution on the heads of his enemies.

With the advent of February the winter became more rigorous and severe. A heavy snow storm made the road to the mines impassable for three days, though the convicts labored with shovels to clear the path. Then a brief thawing rain set in, followed by a tremendous drop of the mercury, and a crust of solid ice formed on the snow.

The next morning the Convicts went to work as usual, and the overseer, anxious to make up lost time, added two hours to the day's labour. When Ivor and Gogol returned in the evening they were too weary to enjoy their usual talk. They swallowed their scanty supper and were soon sleeping like dead men. And meanwhile, though they dreamed not of it, strange things were going on about them. The worm, long trodden under the heel of oppression, was about to turn.

* * *

CHAPTER V

A hard pull at his arm, and a low voice repeating his name, woke Ivor from a sound sleep. He believed at first that the guards had given the signal to rise, but all was silent, and no yellow gleam of torches shone through the chinks of the door.

Then he saw Gogol sitting beside him, and in surprised tones he asked: "What is the matter? Did you waken me?"

"Hush! Not so loud," whispered his companion. "I roused you because I had something to say. Strange things have taken place this night while you slept. I made a foolish promise, and I have partly repented of it. That is what I wish to tell you."

Ivor was bewildered by the old man's strange words and agitated manner. "Are you sure you are awake?" he said, giving him a pinch on the arm.

"I am not dreaming, my friend," said Gogol quietly. "Dismiss that from your mind. What I have to say must be told briefly, for it is very near the hour of rising. To begin, I have long suspected that our fellow prisoners were hatching some plot, for often, when I woke up in the night, I heard them talking among themselves. Tonight Rustem the Turk came to me and proposed that you and I should join their undertaking. I refused to promise until I knew what this plan was, and he then told me all. It seems that a plan of escape has long been maturing, but nothing definite was decided upon until yesterday, when a convict, who was sent up from Karsokov, communicated to the others that half the garrison there have been relieved and sent to Vladivostok, while the fresh relay of Cossacks is not due for a week. Consequently only one hundred and fifty remain in Karsokov. Moreover, on the third night from this the governor gives a feast in honor of his son, who will shortly leave for Irkutsk to be married. The officers will dine in the governor's house, while the soldiers will have a table spread in the hall at the barracks. There will be plenty of fiery stuff to drink, and by midnight nearly every one in Karsokov will be stupid."

"But how does this affect us here in the mines?" asked Ivor.

"Do you not see? On the afternoon of the feast day the convicts will overpower the guards, at the dinner hour. Then they will rush back here to the prison, seize all the arms and ammunition, lock the rest of the soldiers up in the barracks or murder them — I don't know which — and then march leisurely to Karsokov. They will arrive there before midnight, while the Cossacks and the officials are drinking and feasting, and it will be an easy matter to plunder the arsenal, seize the street cannon, liberate all the prisoners, and gain complete possession of the town."

"And what do they hope to gain by that?" asked Ivor.

Gogol shrugged his shoulders. "They will seize the coaling vessels in the harbor," he replied, "and cross to the mainland. Even if the plan succeeds, though, they will pay dearly for their folly sooner or later. They can't escape from Siberia. The leaders of the plot are Rustem and our German room mate Schmidt. Both are desperate men. They were formerly members of a band of robbers and assassins who operated in southern Russia. They have already communicated their plans to sixty of the convicts, and the rest will doubtless join when the time comes."

"But what promise have you made?" exclaimed Ivor. "You surely did not agree to join them?"

"No, I refused to have anything to do with the affair. I told Rustem, however, that the secret would be safe with us. If the poor wretches think they can escape let them try it. I don't wonder that they are driven to desperation by what they suffer here. Besides, if I had not made the promise the rascals would doubtless have murdered me."

"But think of the terrible results that may follow,'' whispered Ivor in horror stricken tones. "Here and at Karsokov murder will certainly be committed. If these wretched fellows gain possession of the town they will exact an awful revenge for their sufferings. And you and I will be held accountable, whether we join the uprising or not. It would be wiser for us to give warning, Gogol —indeed it is our duty."

"Our duty!" muttered Gogol bitterly. "If I saved the lives of the governor and the commandant a hundred times over it would not get me away from this accursed place, or lessen my sufferings by one degree. I have good reason to know that.

Ivor was startled to hear this, so exactly did it fit his own case. Well he knew that any service rendered to the authorities would count for nothing against the influence of Maximy Petrov and Feodor Gunsberg. For a moment he was tempted to join the conspirators and take the desperate chances of escape.

"What do I owe the Russian government that I should take any risk to do it a service?" resumed Gogol in a hoarse whisper striking his hands excitedly together. "In no other country is such vile treachery possible as that which sent me here. I am as innocent as an unborn babe, but I became dangerous to certain powerful persons, and this is the result. There is no redress. No one will believe my story. Did I not respect myself as all honest men should, I would join the mutineers, hand and heart, and shed blood as eagerly as any of them. Wretches though they be I can sympathize with them, and their plans — Hark! the guards are coming. Not a word of this, Ivor. I will tell you more tonight."

Footsteps echoed along the corridor, and lights flashed through the crevices of the wall. Then the door was flung open, and Cossacks entered with lanterns, shouting loudly, "Turn out, you dogs, turn out!"

In a moment the weary men were up ready for their meager breakfast, which was already being brought in. Roll call followed, and when the first glimmer of dawn was lighting the wintry landscape, the shivering convicts, nearly two hundred strong, were marching over the snow crust. Thirty Cossacks, armed with Berdan rifles, formed their sole escort.

That day the men were employed in hauling broken coal from the mine galleries to the big sheds that stood outside the main shaft. Ivor could think of nothing but the startling news he had just heard, and he resolved to make another appeal to Gogol at the first opportunity. He felt all too keenly the enormous burden of responsibility that would rest upon him if he allowed the threatened uprising to take place. His conscience revolted at the commission of a crime that would surely result in pillage and bloodshed. The desired opportunity did not come until five o'clock in the afternoon, when the men stopped work and gathered in groups outside the mine, waiting for the hot tea which was to warm their stiffened limbs for the weary tramp to the prison. The Cossacks stood about the fires, holding their hands to the blaze, and heaping wood under the kettles. At a little distance the rifles were stacked in glistening circles, their muzzles turned to the gray sky. In the background was the rugged, pine clad slope of the mountain, and to the westward, over the fields of frozen snow, a glimpse of the blue sea was visible.

When the tin cups of tea were handed around Ivor and Gogol found themselves together. Not far away was a group of a dozen, conspicuous among whom were Rustem and Schmidt. Each group, in fact, seemed to contain one or more of the most turbulent spirits — a circumstance that was not observed by the Cossacks.

"I have been thinking all day about what you told me this moving," said Ivor in a whisper. "This thing must be prevented, Gogol. Won't you change your mind and give me permission to speak to Lieutenant Berg before it is too late?"

"No," said Gogol. "If you had suffered torments for three long years, as I have done, you would be of a different mind. Besides, would you send these poor fellows to the gibbet by informing on them?"

"But no names need be mentioned," persisted Ivor. "A brief warning will be sufficient. Think of what will happen in Karsokov if these fiends are let loose upon the town. They will murder every one that comes in their way. There is one person whom I should like to save from harm — a young girl with golden hair and the most beautiful face, I think, I ever saw. Perhaps you know who she is. I saw her only once, as I was being led into the prison. I shall never forget the look of sympathy and pity she gave me."

"Ah! is she still there?" exclaimed Gogol in a husky tone. "I had forgotten her. You mean Sonia, the daughter of Captain Komaroff. God bless her kind heart! She interfered one day when the Cossacks were treating me brutally. She reminded me of one like her — one whom I loved years ago, when I was a stripling like you. Poor girl! she died one week before our marriage day —"

Gogol's voice broke, and he was silent for a moment.

"If I thought Sonia Komaroff was in danger," he resumed, "I would send every one of these scoundrels to the gibbet rather than let them carry out their plans."

"Hush! not so loud. Rustem is looking this way," said Ivor. "Then you will warn Lieutenant Berg?" he went on eagerly. "I knew you would not let this bloody thing go on Gogol. Your repentance would be lifelong."

Yes, I will interfere before it is too late," said Gogol firmly. "Thank God that my eyes have been opened in time! This very night I will seek an opportunity of speaking to Lieutenant Berg."

But it was even then too late. As Gogol's glance rested on the scattered groups of convicts his eyes dilated with alarm.

"Ivor," he whispered, "there is something wrong. The men are plotting mischief. Rustem and Schmidt are making signs to the others. Look at the stupid Cossacks warming themselves at the fire, while their rifles are half a dozen feet away. Can it be possible that the villains lied to me about the time they had fixed upon —"

A shrill whistle drowned Gogol's worlds. The sound came from Rustem's lips, and its significance was made instantly plain. Fully a hundred convicts, who had purposely grouped themselves near the fires, made a simultaneous rush forward. In the twinkling of an eye the stacked rifles had been seized, and the mutineers made furiously at the startled soldiers.

Lieutenant Berg and Kridloff the overseer were brave men, and in the face of such a totally unexpected danger they did not lose their presence of mind."

"Fall in line there, you mutinous dogs!" cried the lieutenant, hoping to quell the riot by the force of habit. He was answered by jeering cries. Drawing a revolver, he shot the foremost of the rebels dead. Half a dozen rifles instantly replied, and the plucky officer fell forward on his face. Kridloff met with a similar fate while rashly trying to enforce Lieutenant Berg's orders. Riddled with bullets he fell to the ground, staining the snow with his life blood.

The seventy or eighty convicts who had hot been in the plot were not slow to join the winning side, and against such overwhelming numbers the Cossacks were powerless. Some who resisted were mercilessly shot down. The others were surrounded and captured, and bound with ropes. The death of the two hated officers seemed to have temporarily satisfied the blood thirsty passions of the mutineers.

Meanwhile Ivor and Gogol had witnessed the brief affair with emotions of the utmost horror. So absorbed were they in the scene that they quite forgot their own peculiar situation. They might easily have escaped, for they had been standing in the background when the outbreak occurred. Now Rustem perceived them, and hurried to the spot with a couple of his fellow convicts.

"You will join us now," he cried triumphantly. "Everything is in our hands. There goes Schmidt with one hundred men to capture the handful of Cossacks at the prison. Not one will get away to give the alarm. By midnight Karsokov will be in our possession. Come, arm yourselves with picks and shovels."

Gogol and Ivor exchanged hasty glances. It was a moment of deadly peril. Should they cast in their lot with the rebels or hold aloof from such dangerous associates?

Rustem was not slow to interpret their hesitation, and his swarthy face flushed with anger.