My heart sank. What would they do to my poor little dog? I was determined they shouldn't harm him unless they harmed me first, and if he had to go back to Russia—well, I would go too; but the thought of going back made me very miserable, and I made solemn vows to myself that if I by some miracle got through safely, never, never again would I travel with a dog.
And while I was thinking about it there came along a junior officer, mate, purser, he might have been the cook for all I know, and he said: “If you have bought this dog in Finland, or even on board the steamer, he can land.”
It was light in darkness, and I do not mind stating that where my dog is concerned I have absolutely no morals, if it is to save him from pain. He had been my close companion for over a year and I knew he was perfectly healthy.
“I will give you a good price for him,” said I. “He is a pretty little dog.”
“Wait,” he said, “wait. By and by I see.”
Just as we got out of the bay the captain announced that he was not going to Stockholm at all, but to Gefle, farther north. Why, he did not know. Such were his orders. In ordinary times to find yourself being landed at Liverpool, say, when you had booked for London might be upsetting, but in war time it is all in the day's work, and sailors and crowded passengers only laughed.
“Let's awa',” said the sailors. “Let's awa'.”
The air was clear and clean, clean as if every speck of dust had been washed away by the rain of the preceding night; the little islands at the mouth of the bay stood out green and fresh in the blue sea, but the head wind broke it up into little waves, and the ship was empty of cargo and tossed about like a cork. The blue sea and snow-white clouds, the sunlight on the dancing waves mattered not to us; all we wanted, those of us who were not in favour of drowning at once and so ending our misery, was to land in Sweden. Buchanan sat up looking at me reproachfully, then he too subsided and was violently sick, and I watched the passengers go one by one below to hide their misery, even those who had vowed they never were sea-sick. I stayed on deck because I felt I was happier there in the fresh air, and so I watched the sunset. It was a gorgeous sunset; the clouds piled themselves one upon the other and the red sun stained them deepest crimson. It was so striking that I forgot my sea-sick qualms.
And then suddenly I became aware there were more ships upon the sea than ours, one in particular, a black, low-lying craft, was steaming all round us, sending out defiant hoots. There were three other ships farther off, and I went to the rail to look over the darkening sea.
Between us and the sunset was the low-lying craft, so close I could see the gaiters of a man in uniform who stood on a platform a little higher than his fellows; the little decks were crowded with men and a long gun was pointed at us. It was all black, clean-cut, silhouetted against the crimson sunset.