CHAPTER IV
THE STRANGER
On the following morning, at breakfast, Alfred Banford turned to the kind-hearted Russian servant, and said: "Do tell me what sort of man your master is, and what is his name?"
"He is a very good man," said the servant. "I can think of no one who is kindlier. His name is Vosky, the Czar's chief financial adviser, and he is particularly concerned with the care of the Russian army. He has always shown me great consideration, for I was only a poor beggar boy.
"One day one of Mr. Vosky's assistants lost a package containing some valuable papers and a large sum of money. It was extensively advertised. I fortunately found the package and brought it to Mr. Vosky, who was so pleased with my honesty that he offered me a home, had me trained for a commercial life, and now takes me with him on his journeys, partly as secretary and partly as valet.
"His home is in St. Petersburg. This house is only used as a stopping place when his business carries him to this region, which happens quite frequently. Before leaving yesterday, he gave me strict orders to look after your welfare. I trust you will be pleased with my efforts, and give Mr. Vosky a good report when he returns."
By slow degrees Alfred Banford recovered his strength. He found books with which to while away the time. The stillness of this secluded spot was a gratifying change from the noisy battlefield.
One night, Mr. Vosky returned. As he entered the house, his face shone with enthusiasm and gay spirits. "I come," said he, turning to Alfred, "to give you liberty after your long confinement. I stand at your service, and wish to do everything in my power to see you safely restored to your own country. I would suggest that you go with me to St. Petersburg; from there you can easily return to your own home by water. I should like to introduce you to my wife and children. Besides, I could not let you depart without suitable clothing, and I cannot provide you with that here."
"My good man," said Alfred, "your extraordinary kindness to me exceeds all measure. I cannot understand how I should merit such consideration from you."
"But," said Mr. Vosky, almost choked with emotion, "I find nothing extraordinary or bountiful in my acts. It is my duty, an act of gratitude."
"I fail to understand you," said Alfred. "I cannot remember the slightest favor that I have ever proffered you. I never saw you before, and what is more, I never heard of you in my life."
"Never?" cried Mr. Vosky. "Then listen to what I have to say. My entire fortune I owe to you. All my success I lay at your door."
Alfred looked at him in astonishment and shook his head.
"Did you never help a poor boy, by giving him fifty pounds?"
"Just now I don't remember ever having done any poor boy such a charity."
"Now," said Vosky, "perhaps you may remember a nightingale that you wished to have brought to your mother's garden. You will recall that poor stable-boy who managed it for you."
"Oh, yes," said Alfred, "I remember the boy very well. He was a poor, worthy, ambitious lad, named Michael Warden. The last I heard of him was when he went out into the world as a wheelwright, to make his fortune."
"So, you do remember him. Well, that boy Michael was none other than myself. Now I am the owner of a large factory, besides being financial adviser to the Czar. I had my name legally changed to Vosky. I was that stable-boy, that wheelwright."
"You!" cried Alfred, filled with admiration and astonishment. He sprang forward and embraced his benefactor. "But why didn't you tell me all this at first?"
"That was impossible," said Vosky. "It would have taken too long to explain; and my business affairs were so pressing, and you were so exhausted, that you could not have listened to a detailed account. I deferred it for a more quiet, restful time, when I could express to you my thanks. I saw that you did not recognize me, and I, too, would never have recognized you had you not said that day as you sank in the snow, 'Give my love to my mother and sisters and say that Alfred Banford fell in the service of his country.' Let us be thankful that we have been brought together, and that the opportunity has been afforded me to show you that I am not ungrateful. I cannot express to you the joy it gives me to see you, and to be able to serve you."
Mr. Vosky then related some of the events of his life. How he had visited the principal cities of Europe; and how he had studied under the best men, in order to make himself proficient in his line of work. Having heard that many Londoners were competing for the construction of carriages for Russia, he had hastily sent in his estimate. The work was accorded to him, and in a few years time he had amassed a large fortune. He had also opened a large wagon factory, and as soon as the war broke out with France, he had received orders from the Czar to supply the Russian army with additional powder wagons. The government had been as pleased with his promptness as with his honesty. Later, he had received the title of "Imperial Financial Adviser."
Alfred listened earnestly, and said: "God blessed you with excellent talents. Even as a child you showed genius. You certainly made good use of your gifts. I see from all that you have told me, that you were always ready to embrace an opportunity; that you worked with diligence, honesty and system, and that you began and ended all your work with an honest purpose. God, upon whom you relied, has blessed all your undertakings."
"That is true," said Mr. Vosky. "The fortune which I have accumulated gives me pleasure; for with it I can help the needy. Many a poor lad, like myself, have I (in memory of my own childhood) taken by the hand and helped to become a man of standing in the world."
Mr. Vosky became silent, and after a long pause said, "I sorely regret that my poor father did not live, to see how valuable was the good training which he gave me, and that I was not permitted to make some return to him for his love and devotion."
On the following day, Mr. Vosky and his guests started on their journey to St. Petersburg. The route lay along a beautiful section of the country; and so, with entertaining conversation, they reached their destination before they had expected.
Mr. Vosky's home was a beautiful place. His family came forward with warm greetings, and were introduced to Alfred Banford. The children could hardly understand how any man who looked so shabby and worn could ever have been their father's benefactor. The father, however, explained to them that the trials and tribulations of warfare, through which Alfred had passed, accounted for his appearance; and they were moved to sympathy for his sufferings.
Mr. Vosky had his tailor furnish Alfred with a complete outfit, suitable to his station.
Alfred remained with the Vosky family until the following spring, when they escorted him to the wharf. Mr. Vosky gave him a large roll of bills, for which Alfred thanked him, and said: "I will send you a check for this amount as soon as I reach home."
"Oh, no," said Mr. Vosky; "rather give the money to some poor boy. What we give to the poor always returns to us."
With many adieus and handshakes, Alfred departed; and the Vosky family continued waving their handkerchiefs until the vessel was lost to view.
THE CAPTIVE
CHAPTERS.
I. HOME-COMING.
II. THE SLAVE.
III. IN THE TURKISH FAMILY.
IV. THE LION.
V. THE OFFER.
VI. THE PLANS.
VII. RESTORED TO FREEDOM.
[Illustration: The Master of the House.]
THE CAPTIVE
CHAPTER I
HOME-COMING
Early one morning, Antonio, a noble youth of sixteen, was wandering by the seashore. He had just come from a high school in Salerno, Italy, and wished to spend the Easter holidays at his father's ancestral home. The earth looked gay in all the beauty of spring, and the sea shone in the rosy light of the morning sun. Antonio's heart glowed with adoration as he gazed upon the scene, and he thanked the Creator of all these wonders. With hurried steps he continued his way, thinking of his home and the reception awaiting him.
His parents were of noble birth. They had lost considerable property and money; but they desired to give their son every advantage and—what was worth more than money—an excellent education. From his earliest childhood, they had taught him to reverence God and respect the laws. All his talents were being carefully developed. At a great personal sacrifice, they had sent him to the high school. Here Antonio denied himself many pleasures in which his richer classmates indulged, and tried in every way to live economically. He made no secret of his lack of money, nor did he envy those who possessed more than he did. So on this particular morning we find Antonio saving traveling expenses by making the journey to his home on foot.
The path led through some tall bushes and curved around a huge rock. Here he suddenly espied a queer looking vessel lying at anchor. Several men with swarthy faces, clothed in a strange, odd fashion, were drawing water from a spring which gushed from the rock. They were pirates from Algiers. As soon as they caught sight of the boy, they sprang upon him, like tigers upon a harmless lamb, seized him, dragged him to the ship, robbed him of his beautiful clothing, dressed him like a slave, bound him hand and foot and placed him beside some other captives, who greeted Antonio with loud cries.
When Antonio had recovered from the first great shock, he folded his chained hands, and turning his eyes towards the heavens, he cried aloud to God for strength to bear this great trial, and for safe deliverance from, the hands of his enemies.
The other prisoners, mostly Italians, had understood his prayers and were deeply touched by his great faith. They soon became confidential, and little by little they unfolded to one another the story of their lives. One prisoner, well versed in law, who knew Antonio's father, showed the boy much sympathy. Another prisoner, a sailor, grieved over the old parents whose mainstay he had been for many years. "Oh," sighed he, "now hunger and want will overtake them." Another, a fisherman, somewhat older than the rest, was the saddest of them all. He sat apart at one end of the ship, holding his head in his hand and weeping silently. He was the father of five children. He grieved sorely when he thought what his absence would mean to them. Antonio tried to comfort the old man with the assurance that some rescuer would be sent to save them.
All the prisoners listened to Antonio. His appearance, his friendliness, his cheerfulness, his faith, his trust brightened them all and gave them renewed hope. Then the fisherman stood up and said: "This boy has been sent to cheer us. Let us trust as he does, and some day, perhaps, our chains may be removed." Then he began to sing and all the prisoners joined in the song.