Barr Robert
A Rock in the Baltic
“Isn’t there any way of finding out? Couldn’t you pump the Governor?”
“He is always very much on his guard, and is a taciturn man. The moment the tunnel is finished I shall question him about some further electrical material, and then perhaps I may get a hint about the steamer. I imagine she comes irregularly, so the only safe plan would be for us to make our attempt just after she had departed.”
“Would there be any chance of our finding a number of the military downstairs?”
“I don’t think so. Now that they have their electric light they spend their time playing cards and drinking vodka.”
“Very well, Jack, that scheme seems reasonably feasible. Now, get through your material to me, and issue your instructions.”
CHAPTER XIX —“STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE”
IN a very short time Drummond became as expert at the rock dissolving as was his friend. He called it piffling slow work, but was nevertheless extremely industrious at it, although days and weeks and, as they suspected, months, passed before the hands of the two friends met in the center of the rock. One lucky circumstance that favored them was the habit of the gaoler in visiting Drummond only once every four days.
The Lieutenant made his difficult passage, squeezing through the newly completed tunnel half an hour after a loaf had been set upon his table. Jack knew that the steamer had recently departed, because, two days before, the Governor had sent for him, and had exhibited a quantity of material recently landed, among other things a number of electric bells and telephones which the Governor was going to have set up between himself and the others, and also between his room and that of the clerk and gaoler. There were dry batteries, and primary batteries, and many odds and ends, which made Jack almost sorry he was leaving the place.
Heavy steps, muffled by the thickness of the door, sounded along the outer passage.
“Ready?” whispered Jack. “Here they come. Remember if you miss your first blow, we’re goners, you and I.”
Drummond made no reply, for the steps had come perilously near and he feared to be heard. Noiselessly he crossed the cell and took up his position against the wall, just clear of the space that would be covered by the opening of the door.
At the same moment Jack switched off the light, leaving the room black. Each of the two waiting prisoners could hear the other’s short breathing through the darkness.
On came the shuffling footsteps of the gaoler and lantern-bearer. They had reached the door of Number One, had paused, had passed on and stopped in front of Number Two.
“Your cell!” whispered Jack, panic-stricken. “And they weren’t due to look in on you for four days. It’s all up! They’ll discover the cell is empty and give the—Where are you going, man?” he broke off, as Drummond, leaving his place near the door, groped his way hurriedly along the wall.
“To squeeze my way back and make a fight for it. It’s better than—”
“Wait!”
Lamont’s hand was on his shoulder, and he whispered a sharp command for silence. The two attendants had halted in front of Number Two, and while the lantern-bearer fumbled with the awkward bolt, his companion was saying:
“Hold on! After all, I’ll bring the other his food first, I think.”
“But,” remonstrated the lantern-bearer, “the Governor said we were to bring the Englishman to him at once.”
“What if he did? How will he know we stole a half minute to give the Prince his dinner? If we bring the Englishman upstairs first, the Prince may have to wait an hour before we can get back with the Englishman.”
“Let him wait, then.”
“With his pocket full of roubles? Not I. He may decide to give no more of his gold pieces to a gaoler who lets him go hungry too long.”
“I’ve got the door unfastened now and—”
“Then fasten it again and come back with me to Number One.”
Faint as were the words, deadened by intervening walls, their purport reached Jack.
“Back to your place,” he whispered, “they’re coming!”
The rattle of bolts followed close on his words. The great door of Number One swung ponderously inward. The lantern-bearer, holding his light high in front of him, entered; then stepped to one side to admit the gaoler, who came close after, the tray of food in his outstretched hands.
Unluckily for the captives’ plan, it was to the side of the cell opposite to that where Alan crouched that the lantern-bearer had taken his stand. There was no way of reaching him at a bound. The open door stood between. Were the gaoler to be attacked first, his fellow-attendant could readily be out of the cell and half-way up the corridor before Alan might hope to reach him.
The friends had counted on both men entering the room together and crossing as usual to the table. This change of plan disconcerted them. Already the gaoler had set down his tray and was turning toward the door. Alan, helpless, stood impotently in the shadow, biting his blond mustache with helpless rage. In another second their cherished opportunity would vanish. And, as the gaoler’s next visit was to be to Number Two, discovery stared them in the eyes.
It was Jack who broke the momentary spell of apathy. He was standing at the far end of the cell, near the stream.
“Here!” he called sharply to the lantern-bearer, “bring your light. My electric apparatus is out of order, and I’ve mislaid my matches. I want to fix—”
The lantern-bearer, obediently, had advanced into the room. He was half-way across it while Lamont was still speaking. Then, from the corner of his eye, he spied Alan crouching in the angle behind the door, now fully exposed to the rays of the lantern.
The man whirled about in alarm just as Alan sprang. In consequence the Englishman’s mighty fist whizzed past his head, missing it by a full inch.
The gaoler, recovering from his amaze, whipped out one of the revolvers he wore in his belt. But Jack, leaping forward, knocked it from his hand before he could fire; and, with one hand clapped across the fellow’s bearded lips, wound his other arm about the stalwart body so as to prevent for the instant the drawing of the second pistol.
Alan’s first blow had missed clean; but his second did not. Following up his right-hand blow with all a trained boxer’s swift dexterity, he sent a straight left hander flush on the angle of the light-bearer’s jaw. The man dropped his lantern and collapsed into a senseless heap on the floor, while Alan, with no further delay, rushed toward the gaoler.
The fall of the lantern extinguished the light. The cell was again plunged in dense blackness, through which could be heard the panting and scuffing of the Prince and the gaoler.
Barely a second of time had elapsed since first Jack had seized the man, but that second had sufficed for the latter to summon his great brute strength and shake off his less gigantic opponent and to draw his pistol.
“Quick, Alan!” gasped Jack. “He’s got away from me. He’ll—”
Drummond, guided by his friend’s voice, darted forward through the darkness, caught his foot against the sprawling body of the lantern-bearer and fell heavily, his arms thrown out in an instinctive gesture of self-preservation. Even as he lost his balance he heard a sharp click, directly in front of him. The gaoler had pulled the trigger, and his pistol—contract-made and out of order, like many of the weapons of common soldiers in Russia’s frontier posts—had missed fire.
To that luckiest of mishaps, the failure of a defective cartridge to explode, the friends owed their momentary safety.
As Alan pitched forward, one of his outing arms struck against an obstacle. It was a human figure, and from the feel of the leather straps, which his fingers touched in the impact, he knew it was the gaoler and not Lamont.
Old football tactics coming to memory, Alan clung to the man his arm had chanced upon, and bore him along to the ground; Jack, who had pressed forward in the darkness, being carried down as well by the other’s fall.
Gaoler, Prince and Englishman thus struggled on the stone floor in one indistinguishable heap. It was no ordinary combat of two to one, for neither of the prisoners could say which was the gaoler and which his friend. The gaoler, troubled by no such doubts, laid about him lustily, and was only prevented from crying out by the fact that his heavy fur cap had, in the fall, become jammed down over his face as far as the chin and could not for the moment be dislodged.
He reached for and drew the sword-bayonet that hung at his side (for his second pistol had become lost in the scrimmage), and thrust blindly about him. Once, twice his blade met resistance and struck into flesh.
“Jack,” panted Alan, “the beast’s stabbing. Get yourself loose and find the electric light.”
As he spoke, Alan’s hand found the gaoler’s throat. He knew it was not Alan’s from the rough beard that covered it. The gaoler, maddened by the pressure, stabbed with fresh fury; most of his blows, fortunately, going wild in the darkness.
Alan’s free hand reached for and located the arm that was wielding the bayonet, and for a moment the two wrestled desperately for its possession.
Then a key clicked, and the room was flooded with incandescent light, just as Alan, releasing his grip on the Russian’s throat, dealt him a short-arm blow on the chin with all the power of his practiced muscles. The gaoler relaxed his tense limbs and lay still, while Alan, bleeding and exhausted, struggled to his feet.
“Hot work, eh?” he panted. “Hard position to land a knockout from. But I caught him just right. He’ll trouble us no more for a few minutes, I fancy. You’re bleeding! Did he wound you?”
“Only a scratch along my check. And you?”
“A cut on the wrist and another on the shoulder, I think. Neither of them bad, thanks to the lack of aim in the dark. Close call, that! Now to tie them up. Not a movement from either yet.”
“You must have come close to killing them with those sledge-hammer blows of yours!”
“It doesn’t much matter,” said the imperturbable pugilist, “they’ll be all right in half an hour. It’s knowing where to hit. If there are only four men downstairs, we don’t need to wear the clothes of these beasts. Let us take only the bunch of keys and the revolvers.”
Securing these the two stepped out into the passage, locked and bolted the door; then Jack, who knew his way, proceeded along the passage to the stairway, leaped nimbly up the steps, bolted the door leading to the military quarters, then descended and bolted the bottom door.
“Now for the clerk, and then for the Governor.”
The clerk’s room connected with the armory, which was reached by passing through the apartment that held turbine and dynamo, which they found purring away merrily.
Covering the frightened clerk with four revolvers, Jack told him in Russian that if he made a sound it would be his last. They took him, opened cell Number Three, which was empty, and thrust him in.
Jangling the keys, the two entered the Governor’s room. The ancient man looked up, but not a muscle of his face changed; even his fishy eyes showed no signs of emotion or surprise.
“Governor,” said Jack with deference, “although you are under the muzzles of a quartet of revolvers, no harm is intended you. However, you must not leave your place until you accompany us down to the boat, when I shall hand the keys over to you, and in cell Number One you will find gaoler and lantern man a little worse for wear, perhaps, but still in the ring, I hope. In Number Three your clerk is awaiting you. I go now to release your prisoners. All communication between yourself and the military is barred. I leave my friend on guard until I return from the cells. You must not attempt to summon assistance, or cry out, or move from your chair. My friend does not understand either Russian or German, so there is no use in making any appeal to him, and much as I like you personally, and admire your assiduity in science, our case is so desperate that if you make any motion whatever, he will be compelled to shoot you dead.”
The Governor bowed.
“May I continue my writing?” he asked.
Jack laughed heartily.
“Certainly,” and with that he departed to the cells, which he unlocked one by one, only to find them all empty.
Returning, he said to the Governor:
“Why did you not tell me that we were your only prisoners?”
“I feared,” replied the Governor mildly, “that you might not believe me.”
“After all, I don’t know that I should,”, said Jack, holding out his hand, which the other shook rather unresponsively.
“I want to thank you,” the Governor said slowly, “for all you have told me about electricity. That knowledge I expect to put to many useful purposes in the future, and the exercise of it will also make the hours drag less slowly than they did before you came.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” cried Jack with enthusiasm. “I am sure you are very welcome to what teaching I have been able to give you, and no teacher could have wished a more apt pupil.”
“It pleases me to hear you say that, Highness, although I fear I have been lax in my duties, and perhaps the knowledge of this place which you have got through my negligence, has assisted you in making an escape which I had not thought possible.”
Jack laughed good-naturedly.
“All’s fair in love and war,” he said. “Imprisonment is a section of war. I must admit that electricity has been a powerful aid to us. But you cannot blame yourself, Governor, for you always took every precaution, and the gaoler was eternally at my heels. You can never pretend that you trusted me, you know.”
“I tried to do my duty,” said the old man mournfully, “and if electricity has been your helper, it has not been with my sanction. However, there is one point about electricity which you impressed upon me, which is that although it goes quickly, there is always a return current.”
“What do you mean by that, Governor?”
“Is it not so? It goes by a wire, and returns through the earth. I thought you told me that.”
“Yes, but I don’t quite see why you mention that feature of the case at this particular moment.”
“I wanted to be sure what I have stated is true. You see, when you are gone there will be nobody I can ask.”
All this time the aged Governor was holding Jack’s hand rather limply. Drummond showed signs of impatience.
“Jack,” he cried at last, “that conversation may be very interesting, but it’s like smoking on a powder mine. One never knows what may happen. I shan’t feel safe until we’re well out at sea, and not even then. Get through with your farewells as soon as possible, and let us be off.”
“Right you are, Alan, my boy. Well, Governor, I’m reluctantly compelled to bid you a final good-by, but here’s wishing you all sorts of luck.”
The old man seemed reluctant to part with him, and still clung to his hand.
“I wanted to tell you,” he said, “of another incident, almost as startling as your coming into this room a while since, that happened six or eight months ago. As perhaps you know, we keep a Finland fishing-boat down in the cove below.”
“Yes, yes,” said Jack impatiently, drawing away his hand.
“Well, six or eight months ago that boat disappeared, and has never been heard of since. None of our prisoners was missing; none of the garrison was missing; my three assistants were still here, yet in the night the boat was taken away.”
“Really. How interesting! Never learned the secret, did you?”
“Never, but I took precautions, when we got the next boat, that it should be better guarded, so I have had two men remain upon it night and day.”
“Are your two men armed, Governor?”
“Yes, they are.”
“Then they must surrender, or we will be compelled to shoot them. Come down with us, and advise them to surrender quietly, otherwise, from safe cover on the stairway, we can pot them in an open boat.”
“I will go down with you,” said the Governor, “and do what I can.”
“Of course they will obey you.”
“Yes, they will obey me—if they hear me. I was going to add that only yesterday did I arrange the electric bell down at the landing, with instructions to those men to take a telegram which I had written in case of emergencies, to the mainland, at any moment, night or day, when that bell rang. Your Highness, the bell rang more than half an hour ago. I have not been allowed out to see the result.”
The placid old man put his hand on the Prince’s shoulder, as if bestowing a benediction upon him. Drummond, who did not understand the lingo, was amazed to see Jack fling off the Governor’s grasp, and with what he took to be a crushing oath in Russian, spring to the door, which he threw open. He mounted the stone bench which gave him a view of the sea. A boat, with two sails spread, speeding to the southwest, across the strong westerly wind, was two miles or more away.
“Marooned, by God!” cried the Prince, swinging round and presenting his pistol at the head of the Governor, who stood there like a statue of dejection, and made no sign.
CHAPTER XX —ARRIVAL OF THE TURBINE YACHT
BEFORE Jack could fire, as perhaps he had intended to do, Drummond struck down his arm.
“None of that, Jack,” he said. “The Russian in you has evidently been scratched, and the Tartar has come uppermost. The Governor gave a signal, I suppose?”
“Yes, he did, and those two have got away while I stood babbling here, feeling a sympathy for the old villain. That’s his return current, eh?”
“He’s not to blame,” said Drummond. “It’s our own fault entirely. The first thing to have done was to secure that boat.”
“And everything worked so beautifully,” moaned Jack, “up to this point, and one mistake ruins it. We are doomed, Alan.”
“It isn’t so bad as that, Jack,” said the Englishman calmly. “Should those men reach the coast safely, as no doubt they will, it may cost Russia a bit of trouble to dislodge us.”
“Why, hang it all,” cried Jack, “they don’t need to dislodge us. All they’ve got to do is to stand off and starve us out. They are not compelled to fire a gun or land a man.”
“They’ll have to starve their own men first. It’s not likely we’re going to go hungry and feed our prisoners.”
“Oh, we don’t mind a little thing like that, we Russians. They may send help, or they may not. Probably a cruiser will come within hailing distance and try to find out what the trouble is. Then it will lie off and wait till everybody’s dead, and after that put in a new Governor and another garrison.”
“You take too pessimistic a view, Jack. This isn’t the season of the year for a cruiser to lie off in the Baltic. Winter is coming on. Most of the harbors in Finland will be ice-closed in a month, and there’s no shelter hereabouts in a storm. They’ll attack; probably open shell fire on us for a while, then attempt to land a storming party. That will be fun for us if you’ve got good rifles and plenty of ammunition.”
Jack raised his head.
“Oh, we’re well-equipped,” he said, “if we only have enough to eat.”
Springing to his feet, all dejection gone, he said to the Governor:
“Now, my friend, we’re compelled to put you into a cell. I’m sorry to do this, but there is no other course open. Where is your larder, and what quantity of provisions have you in stock?”
A gloomy smile added to the dejection of the old man’s countenance.
“You must find that out for yourself,” he said.
“Are the soldiers upstairs well supplied with food?”
“I will not answer any of your questions.”
“Oh, very well. I see you are determined to go hungry yourself. Until I am satisfied that there is more than sufficient for my friend and me, no prisoner in my charge gets anything to eat. That’s the sort of gaoler I am. The stubborn old beast!” he cried in English, turning to Drummond, “won’t answer my questions.”
“What were you asking him?”
“I want to know about the stock of provisions.”
“It’s quite unnecessary to ask about the grub: there’s sure to be ample.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because we have reached the beginning of winter, as I said before. There must be months when no boat can land at this rock. It’s bound to be provisioned for several months ahead at the very lowest calculation. Now, the first thing to do is to put this ancient Johnny in his little cell, then I’ll tell you where our chief danger lies.”
The Governor made neither protest nor complaint, but walked into Number Nine, and was locked up.
“Now, Johnny, my boy,” said Drummond, “our anxiety is the soldiers. The moment they find they are locked in they will blow those two doors open in just about half a jiffy. We can, of course, by sitting in front of the lower door night and day, pick off the first four or five who come down, but if the rest make a rush we are bound to be overpowered. They have, presumably, plenty of powder, probably some live shells, petards, and what-not, that will make short work even of those oaken doors. What do you propose to do?”
“I propose,” said Jack, “to fill their crooked stairway with cement. There are bags and bags of it in the armory.”
The necessity for this was prevented by an odd circumstance. The two young men were seated in the Governor’s room, when at his table a telephone bell rang. Jack had not noticed this instrument, and now took up the receiver.
“Hello, Governor,” said a voice, “your fool of a gaoler has bolted the stairway door, and we can’t open it.”
“Oh, I beg pardon,” replied Jack, in whatever imitation of the Governor’s voice he could assume. “I’ll see to it at once myself.”
He hung up the receiver and told his comrade what had happened.
“One or both of these officers are coming down. If we get the officers safely into a cell, there will be nobody to command the men, and it is more than likely that the officers carry the keys of the powder room. I’ll turn out the electric lamps in the hall, and light the lantern. You be ready at the foot of the stairway to fire if they make the slightest resistance.”
The two officers came down the circular stairway, grumbling at the delay to which they had been put. Lermontoff took advantage of the clamping of their heavy boots in the echoing stairway to shove in the bolts once more, and then followed them, himself followed by Drummond, into the Governor’s room. Switching on the electric light, he said:
“Gentlemen, I am Prince Lermontoff, in temporary charge of this prison. The Governor is under arrest, and I regret that I must demand your swords, although I have every reason to believe that they will be handed back to you within a very few days after I have completed my investigations.”
The officers were too much accustomed to sudden changes in command to see anything odd in this turn of affairs. Lermontoff spoke with a quiet dignity that was very convincing, and the language he used was that of the nobility. The two officers handed him their swords without a word of protest.
“I must ask you whether you have yet received your winter supply of food.”
“Oh, yes,” said the senior officer, “we had that nearly a month ago.”
“Is it stored in the military portion of the rock, or below here?”
“Our rations are packed away in a room upstairs.”
“I am sorry, gentlemen, that I must put you into cells until my mission is accomplished. If you will write a requisition for such rations as you are accustomed to receive, I shall see that you are supplied. Meanwhile, write also an order to whomsoever you entrust in command of the men during your absence, to grant no one leave to come downstairs, and ask him to take care that each soldier is rigidly restricted to the minimum quantity of vodka.”
The senior officer sat down at the table, and wrote the two orders. The men were then placed in adjoining cells, without the thought of resistance even occurring to them. They supposed there had been some changes at headquarters, and were rather relieved to have the assurance of the Prince that their arrest would prove temporary. Further investigation showed that there would be no danger of starvation for six months at least.
Next day Jack, at great risk of his neck, scaled to the apex of the island, as he had thought of flying, if possible, a signal of distress that might attract some passing vessel. But even though he reached the sharp ridge, he saw at once that no pole could be erected there, not even if he possessed one. The wind aloft was terrific, and he gazed around him at an empty sea.
When four days had passed they began to look for the Russian relief boat, which they knew would set out the moment the Governor’s telegram reached St. Petersburg.
On the fifth day Jack shouted down to Drummond, who was standing by the door.
“The Russian is coming: heading direct for us. She’s in a hurry, too, crowding on all steam, and eating up the distance like a torpedo-boat destroyer. I think it’s a cruiser. It’s not the old tub I came on, anyway.”
“Come down, then,” answered Alan, “and we—”
A cry from above interrupted him. Jack, having at first glance spied the vessel whose description he had shouted to Drummond, had now turned his eyes eastward and stood staring aghast toward the sunrise.
“What’s the matter?” asked Alan.
“Matter?” echoed Jack. “They must be sending the whole Russian Navy here in detachments to capture our unworthy selves. There’s a second boat coming from the east—nearer by two miles than the yacht. If I hadn’t been all taken up with the other from the moment I climbed here I’d have seen her before.”
“Is she a yacht, too?”
“No. Looks like a passenger tramp. Dirty and—”
“Merchantman, maybe.”
“No. She’s got guns on her—”
“Merchantman fitted out for privateersman, probably. That’s the sort of craft Russia would be likeliest to send to a secret prison like this. What flag does—”
“No flag at all. Neither of them. They’re both making for the rock, full steam, and from opposite sides. Neither can see the other, I suppose. I—”
“From opposite sides? That doesn’t look like a joint expedition. One of those ships isn’t Russian. But which?”
Jack had clambered down and stood by Alan’s side.
“We must make ready for defense in either case,” he said. “In a few minutes we’ll be able to see them both from the platform below.”
“One of those boats means to blow us out of existence if it can,” mused Jack. “The other cannot know of our existence. And yet, if she doesn’t, what is she doing here, headed for the rock?”
With that Jack scrambled, slid and jumped down. Drummond was very quiet and serious. Repeating rifles stood in a row on the opposite wall, easy to get at, but as far off as might be from the effects of a possible shell. The two young men now mounted the stone bench by the door, which allowed them to look over the ledge at the eastern sea. Presently the craft appeared round the end of the island, pure white, floating like a swan on the water, and making great headway.
“By Jove!” said Jack, “she’s a fine one. Looks like the Czar’s yacht, but no Russian vessel I know of can make that speed.”
“She’s got the ear-marks of Thornycroft build about her,” commented Drummond. “By Jove, Jack, what luck if she should prove to be English. No flag flying, though.”
“She’s heading for us,” said Jack, “and apparently she knows which side the cannon is on. If she’s Russian, they’ve taken it for granted we’ve captured the whole place, and are in command of the guns. There, she’s turning.”
The steamer was abreast of the rock, and perhaps three miles distant. Now she swept a long, graceful curve westward and drew up about half a mile east of the rock.
“Jove, I wish I’d a pair of good glasses,” said Drummond. “They’re lowering a boat.”
Jack showed more Highland excitement than Russian stolidity, as he watched the oncoming of a small boat, beautifully riding the waves, and masterfully rowed by sailors who understood the art. Drummond stood imperturbable as a statue.
“The sweep of those oars is English, Jack, my boy.”
As the boat came nearer and nearer Jack became more and more agitated.
“I say, Alan, focus your eyes on that man at the rudder. I think my sight’s failing me. Look closely. Did you ever see him before?”
“I think I have, but am not quite sure.”
“Why, he looks to me like my jovial and venerable father-in-law, Captain Kempt, of Bar Harbor. Perfectly absurd, of course: it can’t be.”
“He does resemble the Captain, but I only saw him once or twice.”
“Hooray, Captain Kempt, how are you?” shouted Jack across the waters.
The Captain raised his right hand and waved it, but made no attempt to cover the distance with his voice. Jack ran pell-mell down the steps, and Drummond followed in more leisurely fashion. The boat swung round to the landing, and Captain Kempt cried cordially:
“Hello, Prince, how are you? And that’s Lieutenant Drummond, isn’t it? Last time I had the pleasure of seeing you, Drummond, was that night of the ball.”
“Yes,” said Drummond. “I was very glad to see you then, but a hundred times happier to see you to-day.”
“I was just cruising round these waters in my yacht, and I thought I’d take a look at this rock you tried to obliterate. I don’t see any perceptible damage done, but what can you expect from British marksmanship?”
“I struck the rock on the other side, Captain. I think your remark is unkind, especially as I’ve just been praising the watermanship of your men.”
“Now, are you boys tired of this summer resort?” asked Captain Kempt. “Is your baggage checked, and are you ready to go? Most seaside places are deserted this time of year.”
“We’ll be ready in a moment, captain,” cried his future son-in-law. “I must run up and get the Governor. We’ve put a number of men in prison here, and they’ll starve if not released. The Governor’s a good old chap, though he played it low down on me a few days ago,” and with that Jack disappeared up the stairway once more.
“Had a gaol-delivery here?” asked the Captain.
“Well, something by way of that. The Prince drilled a hole in the rock, and we got out. We’ve put the garrison in pawn, so to speak, but I’ve been mighty anxious these last few days because the sail-boat they had here, and two of the garrison, escaped to the mainland with the news. We were anxiously watching your yacht, fearing it was Russian. Jack thought it was the Czar’s yacht. How came you by such a craft, Captain? Splendid-looking boat that.”
