When he learnt that several of the vessels belonging to the galley-fleet had been supplied with rotten salt beef, so that the soldiers during five weeks had to content themselves with stale smelts and water, which caused 1,000 men to fall ill, and be unfit for work, his anger passed all bounds. He almost struck an old captain who had distinguished himself in the Yarqut engagement.
“Should you do such an idiotic thing again, don’t lament being dishonoured in your old age! Why should such important business, a thousand times more valuable than your head, be transacted with such carelessness? Probably you seldom read the Military Regulations. The officers of the galleys in question will be hanged, and you almost deserve as much for your gross neglect.” But he dropped his raised hand and mastered his wrath.
“I should never have expected this from you,” he added in an undertone; but such rebuke was in his tone that the guilty one would have preferred a blow.
“Now take care,” said Peter, “that such cruelty shall not recur; for in God’s sight it is the greatest of sins. I have recently heard that here in the Petersburg dockyards, last year, the working men were utterly neglected, especially the sick, and that even dead bodies were allowed to remain lying about the streets, which is revolting not only to Christians, but even to barbarians. I cannot understand this lack of compassion. They are not cattle but Christian souls, for which we shall have to answer before God.”
CHAPTER III
Peter drove in his cabriolet along the quay to the Summer Palace, where he was staying that year until late autumn, owing to alterations which were going on in the Winter Palace.
He was wondering why, in the olden days, he used to delight at going home to dinner and meeting his wife, while now it seemed almost burdensome. He remembered anonymous letters full of hints with regard to his wife and the handsome young German, the gentleman in waiting, the Kammerjunker Mons.