by Jules Verne
CHAPTER VII GOING DOWN THE VOLGA
A LITTLE before midday, the steamboat's bell drew to the wharf on theVolga an unusually large concourse of people, for not only were thoseabout to embark who had intended to go, but the many who were compelledto go contrary to their wishes. The boilers of the Caucasus were underfull pressure; a slight smoke issued from its funnel, whilst the endof the escape-pipe and the lids of the valves were crowned with whitevapor. It is needless to say that the police kept a close watch overthe departure of the Caucasus, and showed themselves pitiless to thosetravelers who did not satisfactorily answer their questions.
Numerous Cossacks came and went on the quay, ready to assist the agents,but they had not to interfere, as no one ventured to offer the slightestresistance to their orders. Exactly at the hour the last clang of thebell sounded, the powerful wheels of the steamboat began to beat thewater, and the Caucasus passed rapidly between the two towns of whichNijni-Novgorod is composed.
Michael Strogoff and the young Livonian had taken a passage on boardthe Caucasus. Their embarkation was made without any difficulty. Asis known, the podorojna, drawn up in the name of Nicholas Korpanoff,authorized this merchant to be accompanied on his journey to Siberia.They appeared, therefore, to be a brother and sister traveling under theprotection of the imperial police. Both, seated together at the stern,gazed at the receding town, so disturbed by the governor's order.Michael had as yet said nothing to the girl, he had not even questionedher. He waited until she should speak to him, when that was necessary.She had been anxious to leave that town, in which, but for theprovidential intervention of this unexpected protector, she would haveremained imprisoned. She said nothing, but her looks spoke her thanks.
The Volga, the Rha of the ancients, the largest river in all Europe, isalmost three thousand miles in length. Its waters, rather unwholesomein its upper part, are improved at Nijni-Novgorod by those of the Oka, arapid affluent, issuing from the central provinces of Russia. The systemof Russian canals and rivers has been justly compared to a gigantic treewhose branches spread over every part of the empire. The Volga forms thetrunk of this tree, and it has for roots seventy mouths opening into theCaspian Sea. It is navigable as far as Rjef, a town in the government ofTver, that is, along the greater part of its course.
The steamboats plying between Perm and Nijni-Novgorod rapidly performthe two hundred and fifty miles which separate this town from the townof Kasan. It is true that these boats have only to descend the Volga,which adds nearly two miles of current per hour to their own speed; buton arriving at the confluence of the Kama, a little below Kasan, theyare obliged to quit the Volga for the smaller river, up which theyascend to Perm. Powerful as were her machines, the Caucasus could notthus, after entering the Kama, make against the current more than tenmiles an hour. Including an hour's stoppage at Kasan, the voyage fromNijni-Novgorod to Perm would take from between sixty to sixty-two hours.
The steamer was very well arranged, and the passengers, according totheir condition or resources, occupied three distinct classes on board.Michael Strogoff had taken care to engage two first-class cabins, sothat his young companion might retire into hers whenever she liked.
The Caucasus was loaded with passengers of every description. Anumber of Asiatic traders had thought it best to leave Nijni-Novgorodimmediately. In that part of the steamer reserved for the first-classmight be seen Armenians in long robes and a sort of miter on theirheads; Jews, known by their conical caps; rich Chinese in theirtraditional costume, a very wide blue, violet, or black robe; Turks,wearing the national turban; Hindoos, with square caps, and a simplestring for a girdle, some of whom, hold in their hands all the trafficof Central Asia; and, lastly, Tartars, wearing boots, ornamented withmany-colored braid, and the breast a mass of embroidery. All thesemerchants had been obliged to pile up their numerous bales and chests inthe hold and on the deck; and the transport of their baggage would costthem dear, for, according to the regulations, each person had only aright to twenty pounds' weight.
In the bows of the Caucasus were more numerous groups of passengers, notonly foreigners, but also Russians, who were not forbidden by the orderto go back to their towns in the province. There were mujiks with capson their heads, and wearing checked shirts under their wide pelisses;peasants of the Volga, with blue trousers stuffed into their boots,rose-colored cotton shirts, drawn in by a cord, felt caps; a few women,habited in flowery-patterned cotton dresses, gay-colored aprons, andbright handkerchiefs on their heads. These were principally third-classpassengers, who were, happily, not troubled by the prospect of a longreturn voyage. The Caucasus passed numerous boats being towed up thestream, carrying all sorts of merchandise to Nijni-Novgorod. Then passedrafts of wood interminably long, and barges loaded to the gunwale, andnearly sinking under water. A bootless voyage they were making, sincethe fair had been abruptly broken up at its outset.
The waves caused by the steamer splashed on the banks, covered withflocks of wild duck, who flew away uttering deafening cries. A littlefarther, on the dry fields, bordered with willows, and aspens, werescattered a few cows, sheep, and herds of pigs. Fields, sown with thinbuckwheat and rye, stretched away to a background of half-cultivatedhills, offering no remarkable prospect. The pencil of an artist inquest of the picturesque would have found nothing to reproduce in thismonotonous landscape.
The Caucasus had been steaming on for almost two hours, when theyoung Livonian, addressing herself to Michael, said, "Are you going toIrkutsk, brother?"
"Yes, sister," answered the young man. "We are going the same way.Consequently, where I go, you shall go."
"To-morrow, brother, you shall know why I left the shores of the Balticto go beyond the Ural Mountains."
"I ask you nothing, sister."
"You shall know all," replied the girl, with a faint smile. "A sistershould hide nothing from her brother. But I cannot to-day. Fatigue andsorrow have broken me."
"Will you go and rest in your cabin?" asked Michael Strogoff.
"Yes--yes; and to-morrow--"
"Come then--"
He hesitated to finish his sentence, as if he had wished to end it bythe name of his companion, of which he was still ignorant.
"Nadia," said she, holding out her hand.
"Come, Nadia," answered Michael, "and make what use you like of yourbrother Nicholas Korpanoff." And he led the girl to the cabin engagedfor her off the saloon.
Michael Strogoff returned on deck, and eager for any news which mightbear on his journey, he mingled in the groups of passengers, thoughwithout taking any part in the conversation. Should he by any chancebe questioned, and obliged to reply, he would announce himself as themerchant Nicholas Korpanoff, going back to the frontier, for he didnot wish it to be suspected that a special permission authorized him totravel to Siberia.
The foreigners in the steamer could evidently speak of nothing but theoccurrences of the day, of the order and its consequences. These poorpeople, scarcely recovered from the fatigue of a journey across CentralAsia, found themselves obliged to return, and if they did not give loudvent to their anger and despair, it was because they dared not. Fear,mingled with respect, restrained them. It was possible that inspectorsof police, charged with watching the passengers, had secretly embarkedon board the Caucasus, and it was just as well to keep silence;expulsion, after all, was a good deal preferable to imprisonment in afortress. Therefore the men were either silent, or spoke with so muchcaution that it was scarcely possible to get any useful information.
Michael Strogoff thus could learn nothing here; but if mouths were oftenshut at his approach--for they did not know him--his ears were soonstruck by the sound of one voice, which cared little whether it washeard or not.
The man with the hearty voice spoke Russian, but with a French accent;and another speaker answered him more reservedly. "What," said thefirst, "are you on board this boat, too, my dear fellow; you whom Imet at the imperial fete in Moscow, and just caught a glimpse of atNijni-Novgorod?"
"Y
es, it's I," answered the second drily.
"Really, I didn't expect to be so closely followed."
"I am not following you sir; I am preceding you."
"Precede! precede! Let us march abreast, keeping step, like two soldierson parade, and for the time, at least, let us agree, if you will, thatone shall not pass the other."
"On the contrary, I shall pass you."
"We shall see that, when we are at the seat of war; but till then,why, let us be traveling companions. Later, we shall have both time andoccasion to be rivals."
"Enemies."
"Enemies, if you like. There is a precision in your words, my dearfellow, particularly agreeable to me. One may always know what one hasto look for, with you."
"What is the harm?"
"No harm at all. So, in my turn, I will ask your permission to state ourrespective situations."
"State away."
"You are going to Perm--like me?"
"Like you."
"And probably you will go from Perm to Ekaterenburg, since that is thebest and safest route by which to cross the Ural Mountains?"
"Probably."
"Once past the frontier, we shall be in Siberia, that is to say in themidst of the invasion."
"We shall be there."
"Well! then, and only then, will be the time to say, Each for himself,and God for--"
"For me."
"For you, all by yourself! Very well! But since we have a week ofneutral days before us, and since it is very certain that news will notshower down upon us on the way, let us be friends until we become rivalsagain."
"Enemies."
"Yes; that's right, enemies. But till then, let us act together, and nottry and ruin each other. All the same, I promise you to keep to myselfall that I can see--"
"And I, all that I can hear."
"Is that agreed?"
"It is agreed."
"Your hand?"
"Here it is." And the hand of the first speaker, that is to say, fivewide-open fingers, vigorously shook the two fingers coolly extended bythe other.
"By the bye," said the first, "I was able this morning to telegraph thevery words of the order to my cousin at seventeen minutes past ten."
"And I sent it to the Daily Telegraph at thirteen minutes past ten."
"Bravo, Mr. Blount!"
"Very good, M. Jolivet."
"I will try and match that!"
"It will be difficult."
"I can try, however."
So saying, the French correspondent familiarly saluted the Englishman,who bowed stiffly. The governor's proclamation did not concern these twonews-hunters, as they were neither Russians nor foreigners of Asiaticorigin. However, being urged by the same instinct, they had leftNijni-Novgorod together. It was natural that they should take the samemeans of transport, and that they should follow the same route to theSiberian steppes. Traveling companions, whether enemies or friends, theyhad a week to pass together before "the hunt would be open." And thensuccess to the most expert! Alcide Jolivet had made the first advances,and Harry Blount had accepted them though he had done so coldly.
That very day at dinner the Frenchman open as ever and even tooloquacious, the Englishman still silent and grave, were seen hobnobbingat the same table, drinking genuine Cliquot, at six roubles the bottle,made from the fresh sap of the birch-trees of the country. On hearingthem chatting away together, Michael Strogoff said to himself: "Thoseare inquisitive and indiscreet fellows whom I shall probably meet againon the way. It will be prudent for me to keep them at a distance."
The young Livonian did not come to dinner. She was asleep in her cabin,and Michael did not like to awaken her. It was evening before shereappeared on the deck of the Caucasus. The long twilight imparted acoolness to the atmosphere eagerly enjoyed by the passengers after thestifling heat of the day. As the evening advanced, the greater numbernever even thought of going into the saloon. Stretched on the benches,they inhaled with delight the slight breeze caused by the speed of thesteamer. At this time of year, and under this latitude, the sky scarcelydarkened between sunset and dawn, and left the steersman light enough toguide his steamer among the numerous vessels going up or down the Volga.
Between eleven and two, however, the moon being new, it was almost dark.Nearly all the passengers were then asleep on the deck, and the silencewas disturbed only by the noise of the paddles striking the water atregular intervals. Anxiety kept Michael Strogoff awake. He walked up anddown, but always in the stern of the steamer. Once, however, he happenedto pass the engine-room. He then found himself in the part reserved forsecond and third-class passengers.
There, everyone was lying asleep, not only on the benches, but also onthe bales, packages, and even the deck itself. Some care was necessarynot to tread on the sleepers, who were lying about everywhere. They werechiefly mujiks, accustomed to hard couches, and quite satisfied with theplanks of the deck. But no doubt they would, all the same, have soundlyabused the clumsy fellow who roused them with an accidental kick.
Michael Strogoff took care, therefore, not to disturb anyone. By goingthus to the end of the boat, he had no other idea but that of strivingagainst sleep by a rather longer walk. He reached the forward deck,and was already climbing the forecastle ladder, when he heard someonespeaking near him. He stopped. The voices appeared to come from agroup of passengers enveloped in cloaks and wraps. It was impossible torecognize them in the dark, though it sometimes happened that, when thesteamer's chimney sent forth a plume of ruddy flames, the sparks seemedto fall amongst the group as though thousands of spangles had beensuddenly illuminated.
Michael was about to step up the ladder, when a few words reached hisear, uttered in that strange tongue which he had heard during the nightat the fair. Instinctively he stopped to listen. Protected by the shadowof the forecastle, he could not be perceived himself. As to seeingthe passengers who were talking, that was impossible. He must confinehimself to listening.
The first words exchanged were of no importance--to him at least--butthey allowed him to recognize the voices of the man and woman whom hehad heard at Nijni-Novgorod. This, of course, made him redouble hisattention. It was, indeed, not at all impossible that these sameTsiganes, now banished, should be on board the Caucasus.
And it was well for him that he listened, for he distinctly heard thisquestion and answer made in the Tartar idiom: "It is said that a courierhas set out from Moscow for Irkutsk."
"It is so said, Sangarre; but either this courier will arrive too late,or he will not arrive at all."
Michael Strogoff started involuntarily at this reply, which concernedhim so directly. He tried to see if the man and woman who had justspoken were really those whom he suspected, but he could not succeed.
In a few moments Michael Strogoff had regained the stern of the vesselwithout having been perceived, and, taking a seat by himself, he buriedhis face in his hands. It might have been supposed that he was asleep.
He was not asleep, however, and did not even think of sleeping. He wasreflecting, not without a lively apprehension: "Who is it knows of mydeparture, and who can have any interest in knowing it?"
