"I then took the keys of the iron chest from the steward's pocket, flung him out of the troïka and the driver after him, seized the reins and drove off with the boy. But when the Cossacks had become a little sober they came galloping after us. When I saw that we must soon be overtaken, I opened the treasure-chest took out great handfuls of gold and silver, and flung them on the road. Of course, they could not let stuff of that kind lie, and by the time they had scraped it all together we were far away over hill and dale. On reaching the forest of Pleskov the middle horse became lame, and I saw that I could not hope to save both the money and the child. I should have had to sacrifice either one or other. So I told the boy to clasp me tightly round the neck, and away we fled together across the steppe. I had previously turned the horses loose with the troïka. No doubt the Cossacks overtook the carriage with all the treasure. But I brought the child here through the forests and across the moors, for I knew that you would land here when you returned from the sea. But you are not angry with me, Master, for bringing only the boy with me instead of all the gold?"
As yet not a tear had risen to the rugged seaman's eyes. He sat staring with frenzied look at the cruel brand upon his son's shoulder. But suddenly, as Mashinka finished speaking, a flood of hot tears burst from the father's eyes. He wiped them away. The white handkerchief was stained with crimson spots. He held it up before the girl's eyes.
"Remember!" he exclaimed in hollow tones, "once in your life you saw a man weep tears of blood."
"Now," he added sternly, after a pause, "take the boy in your arms and follow me."
"But whither are you going, Master?" asked the girl.
"Back again to the sea."
When Captain Von Ungern, with his child and Mashinka, regained the deck of his vessel, the Gladova Strela, he found the plenipotentiary of the Admiralty already on board. That official was charged with the ukase depriving Feodor of his rank, and appointing his brother Zeno to the post of frigate-captain in his place. The crew were looking on in gloomy silence, ready for any turn which events might take.
"Throw both ukase and messenger into the sea!" shouted Feodor.
The order was exactly to the mind of the crew, and right promptly did they execute it.
"And now," he called out, "which of you will come with me wherever I may go?"