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?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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