A Fight for Freedom. A story of the land of the Tsar

Front matter

A FIGHT FOR FREEDOM On the road to Siberia. Frontispiece* A FIGHT FOR FREEDOM A STORY OF THE LAND OF THE TSAR BY GORDON STABLES, M.D., CM. (SURGEON ROY&L NAVY) AUTHOR OF "the cruise of the rover caravan," "from ploughshare to pulpit," "the cruise of the snowbird," etc. etc. " The tyrant's voice is here, And the wail of slaverie ; But the sun of Freedom shines In our ain countrie." 3Lottr)on JAMES NISBET & CO., LIMITED 21 BERNERS STREET Printed by Ballantynb, Hanson <&• Co. At the Ballantyne Press TO KINDLT, CANTT LADY G ED DES WHOSE HUSBAND, SIR WILLIAM (Principal of Aberdeen University) I LOOK UPON AS MY LITERARY FATHER able JBoofc Is JnscrtbeD Wi' d respek and gramercie BY THE AUTHOR CONTENTS

Book I Before The Cloud Burst

chap. page I. "the queen of the isles" 3 II. "up with the drawbridge!" . . . .13 III. OSWALD AND BELLONA 23 IV. "YES, RUSSIA SHALL ONE DAY BE FREE". . . 33 V. AWAY AND AWAY WENT THE BONNIE BOAT . . 43 VI. ALL SAIL ! FOR ST. PETERSBURG . . ■ S2 VII. " WHAT A BEAUTIFUL LIAR THIS FELLOW IS ! " . . 64 VIII. AND AWAY HE DROVE — HICCUPPING HOMEWARDS . 74 IX. A CITY SET UPON MANY WATERS .... 84

Book II Crusoes Of The Forest

I. IN RUSSIAN WILDS 97 II. LIFE AT A NORTHERN FARM IO5 III. AROUND THE CAMP FIRE Il6 IV. A TRUE BUT TERRIBLE STORY 1 24 V. UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE 1 37 VI. FAR AWAY IN FORESTS DEEP 1 47 VII. "WOLVES, IVAN? DID YOU SAY WOLVES?" . -157 VIII. FOREST LIFE IN WINTER 1 67 CONTENTS chap. page IX. STORM AND BAiTLE 1 76 X. FIGHTING THE SNOW — A DEAD WORLD — BEARS . . 1 84 XI. " OH, COME, LUPO ! I FEAR POOR IVAN IS DEAD " . 1 98 XII. A STRANGE MEETING -'3

Book III

"CHAINS AND SLAV ERIE" I. FELIX MOSCOWVITCH'S STRANGE STORY . . .221 II. WOULD THEY EVER SEE HIM MORE? .... 23O III. "THEN, O MOTHER AND SISTERS, I SHALL BE MAD ! " 24I IV. HE STRUCK THE GAOLER A FEARFUL BLOW . . 2_I V. A SORT OF SECOND " SUNBEAM" .... 26l VI. THEN TWO ROUGH HANDS WERE CLASPED — THE COMPACT SEALED 273 VII. ONLY A MUDJIK 286 VIII. ON BOARD THE BOLD " BELLONA " .... 292 IX. THE GREAT POST-ROADS OF SIBERIA .... 300 X. NO ONE SAW IVAN'S HAND TOUCH WODOK'S . -312 XI. I LEAVE THEM HAPPY

Chapter I The Queen Of The Isles

A right merry and happy party was assembled that forenoon abaft on the quarter-deck of the saucy Queen of the Lsles as she steamed slowly down the sun-kissed waters of romantic Loch Ness. But indeed it was one of those bright balmy days in early summer that cause the most sorrowful heart to rejoice — a day on which one cannot help feeling that but to live and to dream ia happiness unalloyed; while every breath of air borne from off the mountain's brow brings calmness, forgetfulness, and joy. So at all events thought and felt Madame Moscow vitch as she sat on her deck-chair, a book lying idly on her lap, watching her children Bellona and Viola playing with that aristocratic-like poodle Rooskie on the ivory-white deck. Madame was very happy just then, and had given herself up to the languor of the hour.

She seemed to care but little how long this pleasant time might last, or how slowly went the ship. And indeed, although I have called this steamer the " saucy " Queen, it is more from force of habit than any- 3 / thing else. There was very little of the coquette about the honest old paddler. She possessed all the steadiness that became her years, and her sturdy timbers would have told you she was no sea-chicken. There were wee wavelets on the loch, for a gentle — very gentle — breeze was blowing, and at times the ship would make pretence to lift her head and lower it again, as if dreaming that she was buffeting the stormy ocean, but she would almost immediately re settle herself into the sedateness of movement for which she was famed. Flap, flap, flap went the paddles, and, far behind her in the dark blue waters, trailed the long white line of her wake.

The Queen had just steamed away from the pier at Foyers, whose birchen braes, in clouds of drooping green, descend almost to the dark loch's edge. Here and there from those braes grows out a grey-white cliff, and the breeze that ripples the water plays through the heart shaped leaves, causing them to sparkle like diamonds in the sunshine. And ever and anon there comes from those sylvan wilds a gush of bird melody, sounding high above the noise that the paddles make. Far away across the loch, two miles off and more, rise braes even more stern and wild than these, up wards and upwards till their horizon is lost in the barren grandeur of mighty Melfourvounie itself. A long white bar of cloud seems to cut the mountain in two, and its lofty summit looks darker by contrast as it pierces the milky blue of the summer sky.

On and on for some miles, getting farther out into the loch now, till suddenly the skipper, who walks the bridge, his burly form clad in roughest pilot, makes a sign to the helmsman, and the course is altered once more. The ship glides nearer to the shore now, and pre sently, after a word or two is spoken down the tube, she is stopped, and all is comparatively still about and around her. By those who care to look, a boat can be seen just rounding a wooded point of land, and a signal has been made to the Queen. It is just an ordinary Highland cobble, and, though rowed by sturdy High land arms, it would be a great stretch of imagination to say that it came dancing over the water like a thing of life. But on this bright summer's day the few passengers on board do not seem to be in the slightest hurry.

That boat may take an hour to get alongside if she chooses, and no one will grumble. Indeed the stoppage of the boat and the silence that ensues comes as a kind of a relief from the grind and gride of the machinery, and the napping of the re volving paddles. The bird-song in the woodlands can be heard more distinctly soon, and even the croodle of the wild pigeons as they make meek-eyed love to their pretty mates. Clouds of midges are wafted on board, their wings as musical as Æolian harp strings. A great painted butterfly comes floating over the quarter-deck, and both Rooskie and his little mistress Bellona rush off like a couple of madcaps to try to catch it. So quickly does Bellona fly, that, light though the wind is, the wealth of the child's auburn hair is lifted from her shoulders and floats streamer-like behind her.

But as she leaps in very wantonness from the deck, Rooskie emits a short sharp bark, and at once the beautiful butterfly changes its course, and is soon rising and falling over the water on its way shore wards, but far beyond the reach of either. " Bear a hand, Donald — bear a hand ! " cries the skipper to the boatman, sharply but not angrily. " Don't keep us here all day if you can help it." The old boatman bends to his oars and makes his craft dance over the water — that is if there could be any such thing as dance in an ancient cobble like this. However, she is soon alongside. No need to lower a ladder, for hardy is the young Highlander who is about to board the Queen of the Lsles. Some men toss him a rope, and up he swarms hand over hand. A young fellow, probably not many months over sixteen, but tall for his years, and with something in his quiet but almost noble bearing that commands respect ; so the sailors touch their hats to him as he lounges aft.

He salutes the captain of the Queen, and receives a friendly recognition in return. Oswald M'Gregor, for that is his name, has a book under his arm, and behind him walks, stately and slow, a beautiful highly trained sable collie dog. As the ship goes on again once more, Oswald seats himself on a bench to read, while Luath, the dog, sits down at his feet to think. In fact there is something on that animal's mind just at present. He has already taken note of those two beautiful girls Viola and Bellona, who are squat ting yonder on their rugs with Rooskie between them. It is Rooskie, however, that Luath is observing most narrowly. " Girls are all very well in their way," he thinks, " but a dog — well a dog is a dog, and that is sayiug a good deal." Luath would dearly like to join that merry group.

He had never seen so droll a dog as Rooskie before, and he longs to ask him a few questions. The poodle, despite the comical appearance of his old-fashioned face, appears good-natured enough. But Luath wants to know why his loins and all the after part of his body is so closely cropped ? why he wears an epau lette of hair on each hip, and a tuft of hair and a gold band on his tail? why he wears bangles and a gold-bound ribbon-adorned collar? He wants to know also if his mistress puts his hair in papers every night, or if she uses curling tongs, and if it hurts ? But Luath is far too well-bred to join the group without his master's consent; so now he tries to attract attention first by gently licking young M'Gregor's knee, for he wears the Highland dress, or Highland costume, as Englishmen amusingly term it.

Master's eyes, however, are fixed on that book, and his thoughts are evidently far away. So Luath leans his head on Oswald's lap and gazes up into his face most wistfully, then emits a half-mournful kind of note of impatience. " What is it, doggie ? " says master, putting one hand on Luath's bonnie brow. Luath gives a funny kind of leap backwards, after his great wagging flag of a tail, and shaking his head emits a laughing bark or two. Up springs Rooskie and advances towards the collie, in a manner which is meant to be dignified but is only droll. , " Did you dare to address that language to me, sir — to me f " says Rooskie. Luath looks down at him for just a moment, for he is inches taller than the poodle. Then a fit of humour takes possession of him ; he appears to smile all down both sides.

"If I can't allay my feelings somehow," cries Luath, " I shall burst and blow the ship up." And so off he starts on a mad scamper round and round the deck, up the starboard side and down the port, and every time he approaches Rooskie he jumps over him clean and clear with a foot to spare, and goes dashing on once more. After he has done so three or four times, all Eooskie's dignity disappears — he is only a dog after all. Oswald and the Dogs. — Page 8. " 0 bother ! " he cries, or seems to cry, " I can't stand this. I must race too." Then what a grand steeple-chase those two doggies have, to be sure, forward as far as the forecastle, back as far as the binnacle, up and down and round and round, in a daft, wild, gallopy jingo-ring, till even the sailors shout encouragement to them, and little ruby haired Bellona sits up on her knees, claps her wee white hands, and screams with laughter.

But Rooskie succumbs at last, and has to throw himself down on the deck to pant; while Luath, looking very sympathetic and contrite, bends down and licks his ears. At this moment there advances towards Oswald a tall and manly looking lad, raising a fur cap and bowing pleasantly. Oswald had been admiring Bellona in a boyish sort of way over the top edges of his book, and could tell at a glance that this was her brother. He stood up and lifted his glengarry as he returned the bow. " Our dogs won't sight, will they, sir ? " said Ivan Moscowvitch. " Oh no, I'm sure they won't. Mine is so good-natured that he seldom even takes his own part." "And mine," said Ivan, "is such a fool that he hardly knows enough to come into the house when it rains." Both lads laughed, and next minute they were seated together, talking away as merrily as if they had known each other for a dozen years or more.

But after a time Ivan rose. "Come, sir," he said, "as we are both students, let me introduce you to my mother and sisters." " Mother," he said, " this is young Oswald M'Gregor, who lives in a haunted castle away over the mountains yonder, but who is now, like ourselves, on his way to Skye." Madame was a very handsome lady. While her face was in repose there appeared somewhat of hauteur in her bearing ; but this vanished now, like the morning mist from Melfourvounie when the sun " spiels " up the sky. " Mr. M'Gregor, I'm very pleased to meet you." "Oh, hold, mother!" cried Ivan, "this is a young Highland chief. Do not say ' Mr.' ; simply ' Oswald ' if you feel motherly, or ' M'Gregor' if you don't." Madame smiled, and stretched out a white and languid hand to her son's new friend. This hand was begemmed with rings, rubies rare, and diamonds, but Oswald took it frankly.

" I shall call you ' Oswald,' " she said. " We have not been here before, and will be so pleased to take advantage of your advice and guidance." Viola was standing now. Nearly if not quite as tall as Oswald she was, and possessed of all her mother's dignity, but a beauty of her own, such as it is rare to witness. This beauty did not attract Oswald. Strangely enough, it rather appalled and repelled him. Her eyes were very blue, thus was she called Viola by a fond father ; her baptismal name was Mignona. And in like manner, from the splendour of her auburn hair, was Kateena — now hugging Rooskie in her arms — called Bellona (the goddess of war). Poor wee Bellona, there was little of the warlike about her, with the exception, perhaps, of her martial tresses. She gazed up kindly from out her bonnie blue eyes when Oswald knelt on one knee to shake hands.

If the boy was somewhat repelled by the cold beauty of Viola, he was not less attracted by the softer and more gentle face of sweet Bellona. " I dare say," he said to her frankly enough, " I shall only know you a few days, or a week at most, but to me, I feel sure, it will be a very pleasant time." Luath now made bold to join the group. All sat on the deck together, and the happy laughing voices of the boys and Bellona — the latter had thrown off all reserve — gladdened the hearts of every one who heard them. But the Queen of the Jsles has reached Fort Augustus at last, and entered the second stage of the great Caledonian Canal. The fast boats had not as yet been put on, so the Queen would go right through all the way. This of course necessitated a delay of nearly two hours here, during which time the good ship would creep upwards from lock to lock, higher and higher, and steam as it were right over a mountain to the loch beyond.

Viola preferred to stay on board with her mother, but the rest, including the dogs, went on shore for a walk. But it did not turn out to be a walk after alL " Let me see," said Oswald, as if talking to himself ; " where shall I take you ? "

Chapter II Quick

QUICK! UP WITH THE DRAWBRIDGE! As if in answer to Oswald's question, just at that minute there came rattling round a corner of the road, that led to the principal hotel, a boy driving a sure-footed morsel of a pony in a Uttle four-seated carriage. "Ah!" cried Oswald, "here comes Dickie Craig. Hie ! Dickie lad," he continued in Gaelic, " are you engaged ? " "Never an engagement is on me at all, sir. No such luck." " Well, dismount, you young rascal. There ! head the pony for the hills. We shall ride, and you shall run with Luath." The bare-footed, bare-legged ghillie did as he was told, and all got in. Bellona sat with Rooskie beside Oswald, who took the ribbons, and Ivan had the hinder seat to himself, but by leaning forward he could talk to both. Oswald drove them first to high ground, from which they could get a glimpse of the once-famous old Castle of Fort Augustus.

Bellona, though only twelve years of age, was like most Russians of refinement, well informed, a good linguist, and full of poetry, romance, and that form of religion which may be called the sentimental. She had already read about all the places they would visit, but listened with delight to what Oswald had to say. " Yes," he added, as he turned the pony's head in another direction, " that castle has a great story ; but it is a tale of bygone times. There is hardly a castle in all our romantic land, Miss Bellona, the waters of whose moat has not been reddened with blood, and half filled with dead bodies of warriors. These were days of fire and sword, you know. I wish I had lived then." Bellona gazed at him with upturned eyes, but drew a little away as if half afraid. But Ivan was all attention, and for the present Oswald addressed him more than the timid girl Bellona.

"Higher up the loch yonder," he said, "and on a point of land jutting out into the water, stands an old feudal castle. It was at one time the strongest stronghold of the Urquharts before they were driven from their glens. " My father," he continued, " told me of a terrible raid that took place at one time, on just such a beautiful moonlight night as it is going to be this evening. The M'Connachies, who bore the Urquharts terrible enmity, came in their boats, and landed in the woods behind the old castle, advancing on it under cover of the birch-trees. ! 15 "They had hoped to surprise it, and to a certain extent were successful. The Urquharts, however, had got word of their intended attack, though they had not expected it on this particular night ; so one-half of their little garrison was out, and would not return from the hills with red deer and game till very late.

" The drawbridge was therefore down, and even the portcullis raised. "The portcullis," Miss Bellona, "was a heavy and huge iron-barred gate that could be lowered at will, to protect the great outer archway and entrance to the castle. " Well, on this particular night the Urquharts were spending their time, till their comrades should return, in high revel. Hardly was there a sentry set, or if there was he had gone to sleep. "But young Urquhart, the chief's son, cared little for revels. He was of a romantic turn of mind, and towards midnight had climbed to the tower-top to witness the big round moon that had risen high over the mountain-tops, mirrored in the placid waters of the great lake. "My father could have told you the story better than I — but there was not a sound to break the still ness.

The woods were as silent as the clouds or the sailing moon herself ; so that when something like the sound of a branch being broken was heard not far off, young Raoul started and crept on all fours, like the grey wolf of the forest, to the side from which the ominous sound had emanated. " One, two, three — a dozen, a score of armed men emerging silently from the silver-stemmed forest, and coming onwards towards the drawbridge ! "For just a moment he thought they might be his own men returned. " But no, no — those were the tartans of Clan M'Con nachie, and those their shields and claymores on which the moon now shone. " ' Hardly more quickly,' said my father, ' does eagle dart down from his eyrie in the blue sky above than did young Urquhart now descend the winding turret staircase.' "As he passed the banqueting-hall he rushed in for a moment, waved his broad dirk on high and shouted — " ' The M'Connachies are on us !

" Then down he swept. "'Warder, warder! Quick, quick! up with the drawbridge ! Come, I'll help you ! ' " He was the first to seize the chain. Alas ! it was too late ; the M'Connachies had already gained footing on the bridge, and withwarlike shouts were making the welkin ring. " Back ran Eaoul ! "A moment of extreme suspense followed. The chain that suspended the portcullis was fastened by a rope to a staple in the old wall. The warder's fingers and Raoul's meet in a mad effort to undo it ; but it resists every attempt. " There is not a moment, a second, to lose. ! 17 " Yonder is the fierce, implacable foe ! " What is to be done ? " Just then, and as two warders, claymores in hand, are rushing forward to resist the onslaught, a ray of moonlight, reflected from some sword or shield, falls upon the unyielding knot.

" In the twinkling of an eye, Eaoul has severed it with his dirk, and down hurtles the huge portcullis, smashing and imprisoning beneath its iron foot-bar three of the foremost warriors. "These men were at the mercy of the warders, and small indeed was the mercy they received. They were literally hacked to pieces where they lay. " But the battle had begun, and, while pistols rattled, huge stones were hurled from the battlements, and soon the enemy were hurled backwards to the neigh bouring wood. " And so brisk was the pistol fire they kept up that it was found impossible to raise the bridge. "The besieged inmates of that time-worn castle were as sure now of the fate that awaited them, as they were sure that the sun would rise to-morrow. "I am trying, Miss Bellona, to tell you the story in my dear father's words.

" Yes, the sun would rise to-morrow on the blackened walls of the fortress and on the grey-white ashes of its defenders. " For look ! the M'Connachies, though they have been some time hidden in the wood, have not been idle, and now they advance again, rolling or pitching B before them huge piles of brushwood. They have arquebuses, too, from which to fire moss that has been steeped in pitch, and lit. Indeed they had come to the assault that night fully prepared for any eventuality. " So well concealed are they that pistol shots have no effect, and presently they have advanced as far as the drawbridge, and are hurtling their pyre on towards the portcullis. Heaven help the poor Urquharts; their doom seems sealed. " But out from the woods beneath the light of the westering moon a still more determined foe is advanc ing.

With wild slogan, with sword and targe, on to the rescue rush the Urquharts — the band who had been away among the mountains and glens in pursuit of game. " The portcullis is raised once more, and now, headed by the brave young chieftain, out dash the defenders. " Attacked with vim and vigour, on front and rear, what force could stand it. The M'Connachies, to their honour be it said, fought like eagles — fought and fell. Not a man escaped back to his boat. Even the wounded were mercilessly thrown into the moat to sink and drown. " Then after their own wounded were attended to, and the dead laid side by side, the Urquharts returned to their banqueting-hall, and daylight only put an end to their revels. " That is a true story, Miss Bellona, of those terrible times." " I think," replied the timid girl, " it is just too dreadful to think of on so fine a day as this.

"But where," she added more cheerfully, "are you going to take us. Oh, what a lovely country ! " " I want," said Oswald, " to show you a little of the wild grandeur of my native land. You see we have been rising up and up all the time, and now we are high above the loch." He turned the pony carriage half-round as he spoke. All in front had been a wild, bleak, hobgoblin kind of a moorland carpeted with the heather's green; but showing peaty cliffs and bare rocks here aud there, and so sweeping onwards — a gigantic tableland — to the bluff bare hills beyond. But the scene they now beheld was like one of en chantment. Oh, I know quite enough not to attempt any graphic description of it. Visit the Highlands yourself, dear reader, and you will have pictures painted on the tablets of your memory, that shall form back grounds to your most beautiful dreams for ever and for aye.

In the foreground were birchen braes, and many a bosky dingle and dell, with here and there a little green knoll on which they tell us, at all events, fairies may oft be seen, by good people only, dancing under the light of the moon or the shimmering stars. Far down below was the loch itself, the most lovely sheet of water in all the wild Highlands. Away over it when they gazed, they could see the rocks and cliffs and woodlands green all mirrored in its surface, so that there seemed to be two wild-lands, one above, and one in the waters underneath. And from the lofty mountain's breast the fleecy bars of cloud had now fled — they were but resting there a Uttle while " ere they journeyed afar o'er the boundless blue sea." But it was mid-day now and past, and though beyond the loch, as far as eye could reach, hills on hills succes sive rose, their rugged and serrated summits were bathed, were etherealised by the mists of distance, in many a strange tint of purple-grey and opal that merged gradually into the blue of the sky above.

Perhaps it was the strange stillness of this bleak moorland, that impressed the sister and brother as much as anything else. Every now and then far down beneath they might hear a burst of happy and melodious bird-melody, but up here all was as still almost as space itself. There was the distant bleating of lambs heard on the crags afar off, or the occasional cry of some wild bird ; but these sounds served but to make the silence more pronounced — a silence indeed, that, like Egyptian darkness, could be felt. On now they drove, and soon the road took a downward sweep, until they found themselves at last in the bottom of one of the most romantic and wooded dells the young Russian Ivan Moscowvitch had ever ! 21 seen, even in the far-off forests of his own Northern land. Down here a black and brawling streamlet was spanned by an old grey bridge of stone.

The stream was indeed a wild one. It came winding and tumbling from under the silver-stemmed weeping birch-trees high up the canon, forming here a cascade and there a dark-brown deep and ugly pool, flowing but a little way at a time in peace and smoothness, then dashing in foam around the rocks and boulders that dared to obstruct its headlong passage, till at last, and right under the dark archway, it formed a deeper pool than any, and this — so Oswald told his companions — was the home of the water-kelpie, a spirit of evil that is said to haunt just such scenes as these, and whose strange, weird, and eldritch laughter may some times be heard at the midnight hour as he seizes some belated traveller, and drags him down with sullen plash into the dark depths of this kelpie pool. From this wild glen the road rises and winds above the awful precipice, but they followed it no longer ; nor, seeing that Bellona looked awed and timid, did Oswald tell her and Ivan that more than one foul murder had taken place here, so that the canon had on the whole an ugly reputation.

I think indeed that the little maiden's spirits revived considerably when the pony's head was once more turned towards the now distant village and canal. While still on the moorland she looked back down A FIGHT FOR FREEDOM towards the haunted canon with something like a shudder. " 0 dear stranger," she said naively to Oswald, " I'm sure I shall dream some dark night on all I have seen to-day."

Chapter III Oswald And Bellona

The Queen of the Lsles was just entering Loch Oich when the young travellers returned from their inland tour, and I verily believe that Bellona was glad to get back again to her mother's side. " 0 mother dear," she said in Russian, " we have seen such strange sights and a country so wild and terrible ! I am sure that dear Rooskie was trembling all the while." Her mother bent low and kissed her daughter's hair. "And I am sure," she answered, smiling, "that if Rooskie was not trembling, I know who was." Bellona blushed, and hid her head for a moment on her mother's shoulder. "Your little daughter was somewhat afraid," she confessed. Then happeuing to look round, and noticing Oswald's eyes fixed upon her somewhat sadly — for he was really upbraiding himself with having told such terrible stories in the child's hearing — the timid Bellona sUpped down off her mother's knee and went right up to the place where the young Highlander and his dog were standing. »3 The tiny hand was outstretched, the half-shy, half solemn eyes upturned.