From the first the Swedes were at a hopeless disadvantage, and in half-an-hour or less the sailor Tsar found himself in possession of two very fine specimens of the warship of that day, and, what was still better, the undisputed proprietor of a fine natural harbour, with outlet to the sea, to keep them in.

There was no happier man inhabiting this planet that evening than Peter Alexeyevitch; and if he demonstrated his delight by dancing upon the supper-table after that meal was over, we must regard with indulgence this characteristic manner of working off the exuberance of his feelings in consideration of the momentous importance of his achievements of the past few days. For Russia had won her first naval engagement, and from this day would commence to rank as a maritime power, and to draw into her bosom the wealth and the commerce of other nations. Truly there was something to dance for, even though it were among empty bottles and upon the top of the supper-table.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
HOW THE SWEDES ERECTED A GIBBET FOR BORIS.

Now that Russia was, or would be, a maritime power, the Tsar was determined that those around him, of every grade, should learn something of naval affairs. While, therefore, the beginnings of the city of St. Petersburg were in progress, the sovereign devised means whereby as many as possible of his favourite companions and officers, as well as humbler classes of his subjects, should at least have the opportunity of learning the use of sails and oars. Peter organized entertainments for his people, inviting large numbers to sup with him each evening in a tent upon an island, which could only be approached by means of boats or sailing yachts, for of course there were as yet no bridges. Peter provided the craft as well as the supper, but the guests were obliged to navigate for themselves. Many, the majority indeed, of these had never set foot in a boat of any sort in their lives, and, notwithstanding the honour which an invitation to his Majesty's board undoubtedly carried with it, they would gladly have gone without both the honour and the sailing, too. The Tsar's guests were invited to step into the first boat that came, and whether this happened to be a rowing or sailing boat they were expected to find their way unassisted by experts to the imperial sea-girt pavilion. If this plan was productive of confusion and exciting incident while the unfortunate guests set out supperwards, it is easy to imagine that the scenes when these same gentlemen returned after their meal and its accompanying potations must have been doubly entertaining. Wrecks and drenchings were the rule; prosperous journeys and the haven safely won the exception. The Tsar stood upon his island and watched the approach of his expected guests as one who goes to the play; their frantic efforts to manage oar and sail gave him the most exquisite delight, his happiness reaching its culmination whenever one of them, more awkward than the rest, was upset. No one was permitted to drown, for either the Tsar himself or Boris or other competent persons were ever at hand to rescue the shipwrecked; and many a poor dripping wretch was brought ashore by the hunter, to eat his supper in the miserable anticipation of more boating to be done afterwards.

Meanwhile a new fortress began to take shape, close to the old one, and the city of St. Petersburg was commenced.

Boris returned to Moscow in the autumn, and spent the winter with his family, to the great content of his devoted Nancy. But his peaceful home-life did not last very long; for with the return of spring the troops were called out once more to finish that which had been so well begun in the previous year, and the hunter bade farewell to his belongings, little thinking that he should come very nigh, during this summer's campaign, to forming a meal for the Swedish crows—nearer, indeed, than ever before.

There were two fortresses which the Tsar felt must be his before he could feel quite secure in the possession of the Neva—namely, Dorpat, and his old friend Narva, where the Russian arms had received their first salutary check, and where Boris had so nearly had his brains blown out as he swam for life in the blood-stained river whose surface hissed in the hail of the Swedish bullets.

With the siege of Dorpat we are not concerned, for Boris was not present. Suffice it to say that it fell before the Russian assault during the summer months, and that its fall greatly encouraged the other half of the Russian army which sat before the walls of Narva, among which latter was Boris. Weeks passed, but Narva, mindful of former achievements, still held out, and besiegers and besieged alike grew very tired of the weary business of bombarding one another, and longed for something more exciting. Then the ingenious spirit of Menshikoff devised a plan which promised at least the chance of a few lively moments. Early in August the Russian troops before the city divided themselves under cover of night into two portions. One half retired out of sight of the city, where they arrayed themselves in Swedish uniforms, and returning when it became light, with drums beating and flags flying, fell upon the Russian lines, to the intense delight of the beleaguered ones within the city, who imagined that history was here repeating itself, and that Charles himself had arrived once more in the nick of time to relieve his faithful city, and to cut the Russians to pieces. Their delight was still greater when the supposed Swedish hosts hotly pressed the Russians, who slowly but surely gave way before them towards the walls of the city. So well did the Russians perform this wholesale piece of play-acting, that not for one moment did the troops within the city doubt the reality of the victory which their friends outside appeared to be gaining over the besiegers. With the intensest excitement they watched the progress of the fight; and when there was no longer any doubt as to which side was winning, they threw open the gates of Narva and sallied out to assist in the rout of the enemy. Then the fleeing hosts turned savagely upon them, and what was a thousand times worse, the late assailants of the latter, Swedes though they appeared to be, now took sides with their defeated foes and fell upon them also. The brave Narva garrison fought well, though they were surprised and demoralized by the deception of which they were the victims. They fell back in good order towards the town; and though they lost several hundreds of their men, they succeeded in getting home again and shutting their gates in the face of the Russians, of whom they carried away one or two prisoners.