Swords From the Sea

by Harold Lamb

  Before long we knew that the rider ahead of us had sighted us, although we had not set eye on him.

  At a zamora we were told that all the horses were out. Never before this had such a thing happened! Not a nag in the stables!

  Edwards was for waiting until fresh beasts could be rounded up, but John Paul said we would press forward on the best animals to the next station. We did so, but here also the keepers of the station bowed and prayed forgiveness because all the horses were out.

  I said nothing, riding instead in a circle about the hut and stables, while the two officers made use of the delay in eating dinner. Aye, there were few tracks leading away from the zamora along the highway, but a round dozen traces went from the stable yard into the fields, and they were fresh tracks.

  Calling my Tatars, I sent them off to follow the tracks for a few versts and bring back what they found. Then I spurred my tired nag into the group of Moskyas who were watching with covert interest. I pulled out a pistol and cocked it, then primed the pan.

  "What are you doing, Uncle?" asked the one who had said there were no horses. "And why did you send the Tatars away?"

  "God keep you, brother," I made answer, "or the Devil will get you. I sent the Tatars for a priest."

  "Why a priest?" He made shift to laugh and invite me down for a nuggin of mead. "Eh, what would a Cossack do with a priest?"

  "Several things. Nay, I would have the last rites administered to you by the batko, the little father, so when your soul stands in the company of the holy angels you will not smell rank of a bribe."

  This I said, knowing that his palm had been crossed with silver by the rider who raced us to Kherson, and that was why the horses were missing.

  "But, worthy sotnik-noble handsome Captain-there is no priest in the village."

  There were half a dozen of the Moskyas, with knives and clubs, but when they looked at the pistol they all began to praise me and say that they were my slaves.

  "Then tell me where you have hidden the horses, if there is no priest."

  They exchanged glances uneasily, and I added a word, for I did not know if the Tatars were on the right trail and time pressed.

  "You will have a gift-" I looked at the first speaker-"worth many times the ruble the officer gave you, if the horses are brought back."

  His eyes began to glisten with greed and he made great show of bravado, and after a moment another spoke up, saying that the horses had been put out to pasture only half a verst away. I waited, keeping them under the muzzle of the pistol, until the Tatars galloped back with a score of horses, many of them good and not all, judging by the looks of them, from the post station.

  Then the Moskyas jumped to harness a team to the tarantass, and I picked out five ponies with Arab blood just as my officers came out. When I was changing my saddle the chief keeper came up and asked for his gift.

  "Your life," I said. "I give it you."

  Before we were out of hearing that keeper shouted after us that the ensign who had come before us had said we were chiefs of the pirates from the Dnieper, and that we would steal all the horses.

  I told this to Edwards and he looked thoughtful.

  "Why are you so eager to reach Kherson in haste, Uncle Ivak?" he asked after a while.

  "I had an order to take John Paul there, alive.

  "True, but you press on like a horse that scents water."

  So, seeing there was a new doubt in his mind, I sat back in the saddle and told him the truth.

  For ages the Cossacks had fought the Turks and all the Moslems who came over the black water. Only a generation ago had the Russians built a fleet strong enough to meet the armada of the Turks, and to navigate these new men-of-war they had to engage foreign officers. Many great ships with masts as tall as pines were in this fleet, which was stationed near Kherson, in the narrow gulf called the Liman, or Port, at the mouth of Father Dnieper. This Liman was near to the great river Danube also and the Crimea.

  But as yet our fleet had not fired a shot at the Turks, who were mustering up their vessels-of-war and blocking it in, as dogs circle around the lair of a tiger.

  Aye, the Russian ships had been built hastily of green timber, which was rotting so fast there was danger of the heavy guns falling through the bottoms. And in all the crews were barely one full company-two hundred men-that knew how to work the sails and make the ships go forward against the wind. They did not go forward at all, but sat in one place with anchors down, except the smaller craft, the galleys and double shallops, that ranged the coast and far back up the Dnieper.

  These were commanded mainly by Greeks and Genoese and made prizes of many merchant craft, honest Armenians, and some French and English. These prizes were taken back to the Liman for examination, and they never sailed forth again. Perhaps they were kept to help the fleet, perhaps they were burned. Who knows?

  The galleys of the flotilla, as the lighter squadron was called, even raided Cossack villages for supplies and carried off girls.

  To all these misdeeds the commander of the Black Sea fleet could have put an end, if he willed. But he gave no orders, and his chief aide, a Greek by the name of Alexiano, plundered and snatched where he willed.

  That was bad for my people, but worse was in store for us. The Turks were growing bolder and very soon they would strike at our fleet. How could our ships, which were unable to sail, beat off the Turks? Nay, the battle would be a disaster.

  And that would cripple the army, which was acting in concert with the fleet. Protected by the Turkish ships-of-war, the Moslem army could advance on Kherson and the Crimea and march up the Dnieper, rolling over the villages of my people.

  That was why I was eager to bring John Paul to Kherson to take command. If he were a leader of men-which remained to be seen-he might make an end of chaos and win the battle upon the sea.

  "How do you know so much, old raven?" Edwards asked.

  I told him that many Cossacks had volunteered to serve with the fleet and some had returned in anger to their people.

  "A pretty mess, if you have told the truth." Edwards shook his head. "Egad, Ivak, surely there are skilled officers in the fleet-Greve and Ten Broek."

  "True, Lieutenant, but they are navigating officers upon the ships with three rows of guns. The Russians and Greeks command, and the crews are a hard lot-fishermen, criminals, and soldiers, not at all easy to lead."

  "Then Paul Jones is the chap to take them in hand, I warrant."

  Edwards laughed and explained that once, I suppose when the American was still a pirate, he had commanded a great ship that was manned by the refuse of the French coast and a few Yankees. I did not know what Yankees were, but Edwards said they were people without a king, who chewed tobacco and fought like fiends.

  Paul Jones had commanded the Bon Homme Richard-so the lieutenant named his ship-and had fought, with such a crew, until he overmastered an English ship, although his own vessel sank.

  I do not know how true this was, but in the next days John Paul, who had discovered that I knew much of affairs in the Black Sea, questioned me through Edwards very patiently, and by the way he returned to the same things again I knew that he remembered all that was said, and it warmed my spirit like corn brandy, because he seemed to know much about ships and the ways of the sea.

  Aye, we went forward joyfully. Were we not in the steppe at last, only two days' ride from Kherson? The tall grass was all around us, high as our horses' shoulders, with the yellow broom and the blue cornflowers making it gleam like a banner. Quail ran before us and the scent of clover and hay made the air sweet.

  We sang and lashed at our horses, being perhaps intoxicated by long lack of sleep, a thing that makes the blood burn in the brain. We had come nine hundred miles in nine days, and we no longer thought of the plotters at Petersburg-aye, we were like blind fools.

  One of the Tatars wakened me from a doze by thrusting his stirrup against my foot.

  "Ivak Khan! Ivak Khan! Vultures have gathered together in a
flock."

  He did not mean that vultures were in the air. I saw at once what he had seen, and cried out to halt the tarantass and turn back.

  We had come to the summit of a high knoll, and less than a verst ahead of us, down under the knoll, men were sitting with horses picketed near at hand. I counted twenty and seven, and the Tatar-who had eyes like a goshawk-said that they were armed, some having muskets. Their coats were of different colors.

  They did not look like a detachment of Russian soldiers nor Cossacks, who would have chosen the knoll for a halting place. Even as the tarantass was being turned a man stepped out of a growth of tall hemp, a pistol shot away, between us and the waiting band. He shouted and the men by the horses stood up.

  I took time to study the lay of the land before riding back after the carriage. It was ill luck that I had been asleep when we breasted the knoll or I should have gone ahead to look over before the carriage and the officers came upon the skyline. But it was good luck that the knoll should be where it was.

  The highway here followed the left bank of the wide Dnieper, which was about two versts away. To reach the knoll we had passed through a network of gullies, where an arm of the river had stretched across the trail into the steppe. We had forded this water and pushed through great patches of rushes as high as the head of a mounted man.

  From the summit of the hill where I was, the ford and the rushes could not be seen, because clumps of willows hid them. Where the estuary joined Father Dnieper a great raft of logs was floating lazily down the river.

  My Tatars were already galloping the tarantass down toward the inlet, and I soon saw that they would be hidden by the trees before the riders, who had been waiting by the highway, could come up to the summit of the hill. The man who had been on watch was standing still, because I had kept to my place. If I had rushed away with the carriage he would have run up, no doubt. Skulkers are bold when backs are turned.

  After observing all these things I wheeled my horse and clapped in the spurs, overtaking the carriage at the river and bidding it halt.

  "What the -- are you about, Ivak? What has happened?"

  Edwards, who was dozing in the carriage, had been wakened by the jolting.

  "Bandits or foemen have happened," I explained quickly. "We cannot gain the last zamora ahead of them. Our beasts are tired and theirs are fresh. What is your will?"

  "That we make a stand, Ivak. Tsob-tsob, Tsoboe! Hustle! Better to make a stand and greet them with bullets than rush into these infernal gullies that lead nowhere but out into your cursed steppe."

  "And what does the admiral say?"

  Edwards spoke to John Paul quickly and the American cast a glance around, apparently not in the least disturbed.

  "He says to go down this inlet to the river. We might slip past the standand-deliver chaps along the river."

  Now there was truth in Edwards's choice, to stand and face our pursuers, and there was more wisdom in John Paul's advice to take to the riverbank, but I had a better plan. Pulling Edwards out of the tarantass and calling to the Tatars who were riding the horses attached to it, I jerked the heads of the leaders to the right and lashed the beasts until they started off, dragging the carriage into the rushes toward the steppe. Meanwhile Edwards had climbed into my saddle and the Tatars and I each took a stirrup-the servant being the third rider. Then we waded into the water and began to trot off, around a bend toward the river. The bottom was hard here and we raised little mud, while the track of the carriage going in the other direction was clear as a cattle path.

  All this had taken not two minutes and we were well out of sight when we heard the horses of the band splash into the ford. Although the two officers had left behind valuable baggage and clothing, they had not bickered for a second. For a moment I wondered if my suspicions were false-the band might have been vagabonds or deserters who would have left us alone for a little silver.

  I thought to myself:

  "When a plan is made and a path chosen, only a fool loiters to think of other paths. The outlaws will divide at the ford, some going after the wagon, some coming this way. It is better to deal with a dozen than with them all."

  We pushed on around many turns, and finally went up to the edge of the rushes where the cover was still good and the footing firmer. Here we made better speed, the mounted men bending low, so their hats could not be seen. As we crossed the bare spaces, or climbed over rocks, our ears were pricked for musket shot, but none came.

  Soon we began to splash through water again-even where trees stood, because Father Dnieper was in flood. Aye, we should not have known where the land ended, except that the raft came into view drifting past, just at the edge of the trees and brush where the current was not as swift as in midstream.

  The burlaks, the watermen on the raft, were singing, sitting in the sun and smoking. The raft itself was made of fine long oak trunks bound together with ropes, about twenty logs in width and four tiers in length.

  "To the left," I whispered, and the officers swung off through the trees, finding there a dry ridge of earth down which we ran, coming out again a little in advance of the raft.

  "If we could get our hands on that raft," I explained to Edwards, "we could cross the Dnieper, at need, and land on the other side. See, it has three sweep oars. Our pursuers could not swim their horses across, and boats are few along here."

  "But the rogues would see us on the raft."

  "Aye, if God wills. But they would hit upon us before long on the shore, and they have muskets."

  Edwards spoke to the American, who glanced at me keenly and nodded. He was no waster of time. The Englishman rode a bit from the trees to where he could speak with the burlaks without shouting. They stopped their song and took their pipes out of their lips to stare the better.

  "Hola, little brothers! How much will you take for the raft?"

  They stared all the more, until one with a beard shaded his eyes and, after looking over the officers, made answer:

  "Health to you, serene great lords. This is fine oak, and we are taking it to the shipyard at Kherson to sell the timber to the shipwright."

  "Sell it to us."

  The stupid Moskya took several puffs at his pipe and shook his head.

  "Pardon noble lord, but it is for the shipyard. Such fine oak-"

  The skin prickled up my back with impatience, for any second we might be sighted by the riders behind. Edwards was growing red with rage when John Paul exchanged a word with him, and he sang another tune.

  "How much are the logs worth, little brother?"

  "We will be paid two hundred and forty copecks for them, Excellency."

  "We will see that it is made into ships," Edwards promised, "and give you five hundred."

  The burlaks looked at one another. They had broad, sunburned faces and moved clumsily, like cattle.

  "That is too much," said the one with the yellow beard after a while. "God knows, Excellency, no one would pay more than two hundred and forty-"

  "Plague take ye! Then two hundred and forty it is. Draw in closer and we'll come aboard."

  After many delays and much laboring at the raft, which was unwieldy in the slow current, we climbed upon it and pushed off from shore far enough to be out of good musket shot but still hidden somewhat by the trees. There was a log lean-to on the raft, and into this I made the officers go with the servant and ordered the Tatars to off saddle the horses, while I slid out of my long Cossack coat and placed it with my cap out of sight, the burlaks grunting like cows at our antics.

  By degrees I had them steer and row the raft out into midstream, where we were in full sight from the bank but so distant that a watcher would not notice anything unusual about the raft. Although I scanned the shore and the Tatars watched the reeds and the flight of birds for suspicious movements, nothing more was seen of the bandits. And it was clear that they might have contented themselves with the plunder of the tarantass, yet I was uneasy, for a hidden foeman is like a snake unseen in the path.
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  At nightfall we ate what food was in the saddle bags, the burlaks sharing their fish and barley cakes with us, being only too pleased to have real coins in their belts instead of kicks and promises which they would probably have been given at Kherson. They kept at the sweeps because the current was powerful here and other craft were about. One raft, smaller than ours, kept us company, the men on it sitting by bright fires and licking up vodka until my throat ached.

  One of them was a giant with a hawk's beak of a nose who sang like an angel out of paradise. They hitched their raft up to ours, to let our burlaks do the steering for them, and prepared to make a white night of it. Ekh, but it was a night, with the moon rising into a clear sky and the smell of the scorched steppe grass heavy in the wind!

  The two officers listened to the singing, and once John Paul struck up a chant and all the burlaks kept silence until he had finished. I leaned my back against the hut and thought that presently we could land and take to horse again. But Edwards and his servants were very weary, sleeping like dogs, and we had only three horses, which were also weary.

  So I listened to the wailing of an owl on shore, and the wash of the waves against the logs. We were in my country at last, and within a few hours I could round up a fine company of galliards, real fellows, and firstrate horses and escort my admiral into Kherson.

  I was musing so when one of our burlaks gave a cry. A splash sounded, and I saw that the other one, at the sweeps, had fallen into the water. While I looked the one who had cried out turned around on his feet and sat down. He grunted softly and all at once bumped down on the logs.

  The moon was behind the clouds just then, and the flickering fires on the raft behind us made the blackness over the water as if a veil had been drawn around us. When the flames rose, the two rafts were visible, and the three men who sang and danced about the fire, but the surface of Father Dnieper was all the darker.