If a picture suspended over the door of the house was its sign, the name of the inn was "The Virgin and Child." There seemed to be no vodka in this hostelry, as the landlord put only a kind of black beer before the Cossacks. They drank it freely enough, but I could not swallow it, the flavour was so offensive: and I could not prevail on the man to serve some tea, which we did not get until the next morning.
The beds were very rough, stuffed with straw, and not clean; but they seemed to be free of vermin. I never saw a flea in Poland, and the other form of bed-pest was also absent; but more offensive creatures are very prevalent in this country; and so are rats and mice, which often harbour in the beds, and do great harm to a traveller's clothes and belongings. They have even gnawed my rough leather boots while I slept.
Again we resumed our journey at daybreak, still riding south; and I thought my escort must have lost their way. I drew forth my papers, and pointed to the letter I had received from Captain Sawmine, trying to make them understand I wished to rejoin him as speedily as possible; but they only shook their heads. They either did not comprehend, or would not forego their own method of going to work.
In the morning we passed through a small town, the name of which did not transpire. In the afternoon we came up with a patrol of Cossacks, not belonging to the same regiment as my escort. My two men had a long conference with the officer commanding them, who made me understand that he wished to examine my papers. I produced them; but he was evidently not a brilliant scholar, and those written in French and German he clearly did not understand. He gave rather lengthy instructions to the two Cossacks, and appeared to order them to take a certain road, which he pointed out. He was very polite, as far as a man could be without the use of direct oral communication, offered me cigarettes (these things have become universal in use), and saluted when we parted.
From a southward road we now turned to an eastward, and in about an hour reached a town which I recognized as Makow; but my guides, escort, or whatever they were, would not stop here. The place was full of Russian troops; and the escort had several conversations with officers, to whom I showed my papers. They always nodded, and we went on. That night I was lodged in the field-prison of a company of military police, and I began to fear that all was not quite as right as I could wish it to be. In the morning I was visited by several officers, one of whom was a Staff Officer who could speak French and several other languages, but not English. I do not speak French; but I can read and write simple sentences in that language, so I could communicate with him. He got all he could out of me, but gave no information himself. I asked to be allowed to rejoin the corps in which Sawmine was serving, but he said he did not know where it was. This may or may not have been the truth. He then asked whether, if I were permitted to move about the camp, I would give my parole not to go without its bounds without special permission. Prisons of any kind are not nice places, and rather than be caged up I gave the required promise, but protested as well as I could and begged to be allowed to do duty with some regiment at Makow, if I might not go on to Kulaki. I understood him to say that my request would be considered; then he went away, and I never saw him again.
I noticed that I was carefully watched; and about the middle of the day a policeman beckoned to me, and I was taken to a tent where a plentiful, though coarse, meal was given me. Again at retreat I was fed, and lodged at night in a tent belonging to the police company. This sort of thing went on for a week, during which no officer spoke to me, or took any notice of me, the commander of the police excepted. I was daily fed in sufficient quantity, a new pair of boots and a coat given to me; but practically I was a watched prisoner.
I was quite unable to guess why I was treated in this way, nor can I now give any explanation of my change of position, except that the troops I was now with were all strangers to me: I had never met any of them before, and it may have been thought that my papers were forgeries, especially as I could not speak, read or understand the Russian language. I do not know what troops these were, distinguishing marks being very obscure when regiments are in the field. I found out, however, that the force had only recently arrived at the front—consisted of what we term territorial regiments, was destined to form part of the Twelfth Army Corps, and comprised two infantry regiments, numerically numbered the 198th and 199th. With them were several batteries of artillery, and a cavalry regiment, the whole mustering 10,000 or 11,000 men. The cavalry were not Cossacks, and I do not know what became of the two men who brought me hither.
On the eighth day after my arrival in the camp of Makow the force crossed the river (a tributary of the Narew), and marched along the Ostrolenka road a distance of fifteen versts, when they again encamped, and remained in this position until the 9th April, daily drilling and manœuvring, very industriously. All this time I lived the monotonous, aimless life I have described above.
Once or twice I accosted officers who appeared to be of some rank, and showed my papers, striving to make my wishes known. I also wrote three times to Captain Sawmine, putting the letters in the field-post; but no reply reached me. I am sure that officer would have replied had my letters reached him; but his replies may have been withheld from me. It is possible, too, that Sawmine was killed, I do not know, but I have not heard anything from or about him and my other old friends. I would have recalled my parole and endeavoured to have escaped; but I could not find anybody whom I could make understand, or who did not wilfully ignore my wishes.
The police commissary (a Captain) was apparently not a bad sort of fellow, and treated me well. When he found he could trust me, he did not have me watched with offensive closeness; and he fed and lodged me as well as he could, and as well as he himself fared. He much resembled a burly English sergeant, and possessed a similar gruff honesty of tone and purpose; and we used to pass the time away by talking at each other by the hour at a time, though neither understood a dozen words of what was said. He always had cigars (he eschewed cigarettes) which he generously shared with me; and any little luxury which his men brought in was sure to find its way to my plate—I cannot say table, for this was an article of furniture I never saw; and the platters were of wood—not a nice substance for such a purpose; at least until dirt has become a second nature.