[1] [The inscription Νίψον ἀνομήμα μὴ μόναν ὄψιν occurs on the fonts at Sandbach Church (Cheshire), Rufford (Lancashire), and elsewhere in England.—Note by the Translator.] [↑]
[2] A monastery on the Dvina, built by Princess Martha, in memory of her two sons who were drowned there, whose patron was St. Nicholas. It may be noted that Archangel was first founded in 1584. [↑]
CHAPTER IV.
THE MONK AMBROSE AND THE PIRATE ANIKA.
The Chief Monk or Abbot of the Monastery of Petschenga in the most prosperous period of its existence, about the close of the sixteenth century, was named Gurij. He must have been an old man of about eighty years of age when he was elected Primicier, or President, in 1540, not very long after the founding of the monastery. There were fifty monks under him. The most prominent man among these monks was known as Ambrose. He was either dumb, or so abnormally silent that sometimes during an entire month he neither spoke to anyone, nor replied if anyone spoke to him. According to their rule the monks were required to be silent, even during meals. When they assembled, one of them was employed in reading aloud from a book, in order to help the company to keep their rule of silence. Nobody knew why Ambrose had imposed this unusual silence on himself, but it was supposed that something had happened in his earlier life which had left a deep wound in his heart, and that this had made him so reserved. He arrived at the monastery all alone one day, having travelled on foot over the mountains from Kola. He brought with him letters of commendation from a monastery in Russia, and also from Solowetski. From these letters, it appeared that he belonged to an ancient Russian boyar family. He was received as a novice, and, after a year’s probation, obtained his own cell in the monastery, but silent he was from the first, and silent he remained unto the end. He was a tall and unusually handsome man, with delicate, pale features, and with a scar on the [[30]]right temple, as if from a sword-cut. When he exerted himself unduly, or became unusually excited, the scar assumed the appearance of a red gash, and the monks learned by degrees that he was not a man to be trifled with, though, as a rule, his disposition was amiable and gentle. It was easy to see from his broad shoulders and his general build that he was a man of great physical strength. This was fully shown when he began to take part in the different kinds of daily manual labour. Both among the Brothers of the monastery and among the work-people, he came to be known as Ambrose the Strong. There was also something in his bearing which suggested that he must at one time have been a soldier. He took a great deal of physical exercise, and he was often present to supervise the shipbuilding that was carried on at the Warehouse Inlet, the work of the salt-pans on the Fiskerö, and also the sea-fishery. In this latter industry he showed himself both courageous and skilful.
He frequently made excursions into the country, and it was asserted that he returned with gold-dust. In these excursions he was invariably accompanied by a Finn, a diminutive creature, who was called Unnas, whose appearance corresponded to the meaning of his name. Ambrose had, on one of his wanderings over the mountains, come upon something which looked like a bundle of clothes; on closer inspection he observed that something moved within the bundle. It was the little creature Unnas, who had squeezed himself together in his coat, and had laid himself down there to die. He had broken his leg, and for two days had painfully tried to creep towards some human habitation; but at last, in pain and helplessness, he had abandoned all hope of getting help. Ambrose lifted him with ease on his strong shoulders, and carried him home to the monastery. Here he allowed him to have a berth in his own cell, set and bandaged his leg, and attended to him for some six weeks, until he had recovered. From that time forward the little creature Unnas followed Ambrose about like a faithful dog. Ambrose could not get quit of him, although he did not always want him. His efforts were of no avail, even when he endeavoured to escape from him. Unnas would track him wherever he went, and follow him at a distance, until the good-natured Ambrose would make him a sign to come closer, and allow him to accompany him. [[31]]
When Ambrose came to the monastery, there was a pirate who had for years made descents on the shores of the Fishers’ Isle, and his visits were the terror and temporary ruin of the inhabitants. The pirate was named Anika, and every year he came, late in the summer, with a big ship, and anchored beside a small island, which took its name, Anikief, from him. Whence he came nobody knew, nor where he went with his fish when he had laden his ship. In the winter time no one ever saw anything of him. But in the spring, when the first fleet of boats arrived for the fishing season, either from Kola or from Pomorien, Anika’s ship would be lying off Anikief. And as soon as the fishermen came in from the sea with their take of fish, they might be sure of seeing Anika walking along the shore, ready to receive them. They were then obliged, whether they liked it or not, to give him the tenth part of their catch. If they did not at once give it to him willingly, he and his men took it by main force, and the fishermen were more than likely to get a good beating into the bargain.
The pirate, however, behaved in some respects in a chivalrous manner. If, for instance, all the fleet of boats which were accustomed to lie in the harbour of Anikief had come in (and frequently there would be more than a hundred of them), he would have all the men called together, and inquire of them whether there was any one of them who would risk himself in a duel with him. He declared himself willing to fight with anyone, and with any kind of weapon. If he were beaten, they should be free from any claim to pay him tribute; but if he proved to be the strongest, they would have to pay the blackmail. Anika was bigger-framed and physically stronger than most men, and none of the fishermen were willing to take the risk of an encounter with him. They had, therefore, no choice but to pay him the blackmail. For many years this torment is said to have continued, and the name of the pirate Anika was a terror to all the fishermen at Fiskerö. He did what he liked. He recognised neither law nor justice. Nobody was in a position to punish him or to withstand his demands.