Condemned as a Nihilist: A Story of Escape from SiberiaHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
Condemned as a Nihilist: A Story of Escape from Siberia
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Escapes -- Fiction; Russia -- History -- Alexander II, 1855-1881 -- Fiction; Siberia (Russia) -- Fiction
"Because she was tugging so hard. She would have pulled us to pieces,
and it was better to let her go than to risk that. She will have drifted
the same way we have done, only she will have gone three times as fast,
for she was a good deal higher out of water, and the paddles which I
fastened on to her head-rope won't have anything like the hold on the
water that our spars have. We will keep in the same direction when we
get our sails up, and if she has lived through it we shall very likely
find her ashore somewhere along the coast. Now be sure you lash that
kettle securely to the deck-beam, Luka. Put it as near one side as you
can get it, then there will be room for you to lie alongside and watch
it. But stop! Before you fasten it pour out half a mugful of water for
Jack. He doesn't like tea, and there will be nothing but tea for him
after we have once made it."
The candle was lighted and fixed under the kettle, but the four wicks
gave out such an odour that Godfrey was glad to sit up again and remain
outside, until a nudge from Luka told him that the tea was ready. They
ate with it some slices of raw bear's ham. Luka offered to cook it, but
Godfrey had had the candle put out the moment he got under the cover and
would not hear of its being lighted again.
"It is not at all bad raw," he said. "They eat raw ham in Germany, and
that last smoking it got was almost as good as cooking it. I expect the
sea will have gone down in a few hours, and then we can have a regular
meal; but if you were to light that smelly thing again now it would make
me ill. Now, Jack, I will light my pipe and look out again, and you
shall come out too for a breath of fresh air. I will hold you tight and
see that you don't go over."
In twelve hours the sea had almost gone down. The floating anchor was
hauled up and unlashed, the masts were stepped, the large sail hoisted,
and, free from the dead weight that had hitherto checked her speed, the
little craft sped along gaily before the gentle wind, Godfrey keeping
her as near as possible dead before it, on the chance that they might
catch sight of the boat.
"If we drifted a mile an hour and she drifted three," he said, "she
would have gained four-and-twenty miles while we were asleep, and
perhaps since then she has been gaining a mile an hour; so she is from
thirty-five to forty miles ahead of us, and must be quite half-way
across the gulf. Anyhow, we need not begin to look out yet; we are going
about four knots an hour, I should think, and I don't suppose she is
going more than one. In about ten hours we must begin to look about for
her."
Before the end of that time the sea had gone quite down, and the wind
had fallen so light that Godfrey thought they were scarce making three
knots an hour. "I hope it won't fall altogether," he said, "for as we
have no paddles it would be awkward for us."
"Two of the bottom boards will do for paddles."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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