“It means, Count,” replied von Schalckenberg, “that what you deemed an impossibility has been accomplished. When you received that telegram yesterday, announcing the departure of the Ludwig Gadd from Odessa, with Colonel Sziszkinski on board her as a convict, you believed that a man who had dared to oppose certain nefarious plans of yours had at length been effectually removed from your path, and was at the same time undergoing a wholesome punishment for his temerity. Instead of which, you and he are about to change places; you to go on board the Ludwig Gadd as a convict, there and in the island of Sakhalien to pay the inadequate penalty of your countless offences, and the colonel to come here, as our honoured guest, until we are able to place him and his daughter, finally and for ever, beyond the reach of other tyrants like yourself.”
“Sziszkinski and I to change places?” ejaculated Vasilovich. “That shall never be! I know not who you are—you people who have perpetrated this monstrous outrage upon a faithful servant and personal friend of the Tsar—but I know this, that ere long you will curse the day upon which you planned it. Think you that his Majesty will allow such colossal insolence as yours to go unpunished? I tell you that—but enough; I will not degrade myself by further bandying of words with you.”
The professor duly translated this blustering speech to Colonel Lethbridge, causing the latter to smile, at sight of which Vasilovich ground his teeth, and cursed the two men roundly in Russian. But he was biding his time. He saw that a boat from the convict-ship was about to visit the strange craft on board which he found himself; he noted the fact that his abductors apparently consisted of four men only; and he confidently believed that upon the arrival of the boat alongside it would but be necessary for him to declare himself to her crew, and issue to them his orders, to insure the capture of the strangers and their extraordinary ship, out of hand. Meanwhile the convict-ship’s gig, with four oarsmen and a coxswain in her, was hanging on to the foot of her parent vessel’s gangway-ladder; and presently a file of Russian soldiers, with bayonets fixed, were seen to approach the gangway, escorting between them a prisoner. Arrived at the gangway, one of the two soldiers descended the ladder and seated himself in the stern-sheets of the gig; the prisoner, heavily ironed, was next assisted down the ship’s side into the boat, where he seated himself beside the soldier already there; and the second soldier then followed, placing himself on the other side of the prisoner. A few minutes then elapsed, at the expiration of which the officer who had been presented as Captain Popovski appeared at the gangway, and with much care and circumspection lowered himself gingerly down the side-ladder into the gig, where he seated himself square in the centre of the stern-sheets. He then gave an order to the coxswain, who repeated it to the boat’s crew. The bow oarsman bore the boat off from the ship’s side, the oar-blades flashed into the water, and a minute later Captain Popovski was standing on the deck of the Flying Fish, exchanging the most elaborate and ceremonious of bows with von Schalckenberg and Lethbridge, as his small deep-set eyes flashed fore and aft in inquisitive scrutiny of the few visible details of the extraordinary ship on board which he found himself. He appeared as though about to speak, but the professor forestalled him.
“Captain Popovski,” said von Schalckenberg, in Russian, “I have to tender to you my most profound apologies for having thus somewhat unceremoniously interrupted the progress of your voyage; but unfortunately the information upon which I have acted came to me too late to render any other course possible. Knowing, however, how unpleasant this delay must be to you, I propose to render it as brief as may be. Perhaps, therefore, you will have the goodness to give instructions to your men to bring Colonel Sziszkinski up the side to us, here, forthwith; and we can then proceed with and complete the exchange at once.”
The captain bowed, though the expression of his features betrayed the disappointment he experienced at such extreme promptitude of action on the part of the strangers in whose company he found himself. His curiosity had been very keenly aroused by the mysterious appearance of the Flying Fish upon the scene, by the peculiar and indeed unique model and structure of the ship herself, and by the singular blending of politeness with autocratic authority that characterised the demeanour of her crew; and he had hoped that an offer of hospitality by the strangers would have afforded him an opportunity to view the interior of the strange craft, and thus perhaps have enabled him to pick up some few scraps of information concerning her. But clearly this was to be denied him. He therefore proceeded to the head of the gangway-ladder and gave an order that presently resulted in the appearance of Colonel Sziszkinski, accompanied by the two armed guards.
A single glance at the prisoner sufficed to satisfy von Schalckenberg that Captain Popovski was acting in good faith. He bowed to the officer, and said—
“Yes, that is the man we want. Will you have the goodness, Captain, to direct your men to remove his fetters and put them upon this man,”—indicating Vasilovich.
“Stop!” shouted Vasilovich, suddenly stepping forward a pace from the position he had hitherto passively occupied between the professor and Lethbridge, and throwing out his arm with an authoritative gesture towards Captain Popovski. “Stop! I forbid you to take the slightest notice of what that man says. I am Count Vasilovich, a personal friend of his Majesty the Emperor—you have no doubt often heard my name, and are fully aware of the power and influence that I possess. In the name of his Majesty I command you to seize this ship and make prisoners of these men whom you see here, and any other persons whom you may find on board. There are but four unarmed men here to oppose you, as you may see, while there are four of us, three being armed. Soldiers, attention!”
He paused suddenly, for von Schalckenberg’s hand was on his collar, and von Schalckenberg’s pistol-barrel was making its presence uncomfortably felt as the muzzle pressed coldly against his scalp just behind the left ear.
“What?” ejaculated the professor. “Is it possible that you have so soon forgotten the capabilities of this little toy of mine? Be silent, man, if you do not wish your sinful, misspent life to come to a sudden and violent end. I give you your choice: Will you die where you stand, or will you go peaceably aboard yonder ship?”