Occasionally we differed, he and I; but our quarrels were not serious, for, though I began to know Mazeppa from this time somewhat better than I had known him heretofore, or cared to show even now, yet I was fond of him as my first friend, and he of me.
When Mazeppa was chosen, therefore, as ambassador or secret envoy of the Hetman to the Turk in Constantinople, I was chosen by Mazeppa to accompany him. We bore letters from the Hetman, who wrote, at Ian Casimir’s request, suggesting a combined movement of Turk, Pole and Cossack against the Russian Tsar, who grew aggressive.
But it happened that we never reached Constantinople, for before we had been many days travelling we were fallen upon, at evening, by a body of Russian Cossacks, who held us prisoners until we should have been examined by their captain in the morning.
During the night, when our guards slept, Mazeppa nudged me.
‘Wake, Chelminsky,’ he said, ‘and eat this.’
‘I am not hungry,’ I replied wearily, ‘let me sleep.’
‘Eat, fool, and talk to-morrow,’ he said angrily, holding something out to me. I took it: it was several small scraps of paper.
‘What is this jest?’ I asked. ‘This is not the time for fooling, but for sleeping.’
‘It is no jest; this is part of the Hetman’s letter, which was concealed in my boot. I have eaten much of it and can swallow no more; eat your share: it must all go, and quickly.’
I swallowed a scrap or two of paper and choked. Mazeppa snatched the rest of the torn letter and thrust it into his long boot. Two soldiers awoke. Mazeppa clapped me upon the back.