Knight Without Armour

They felt the barge bumping against the quayside; they heard sharp voices questioning Akhiz and the latter’s slow, good-tempered answers; then they heard footsteps scampering on deck and over the piled timber. A.J. could not hear much that was said, but from the whole manner of the proceeding he guessed that a search was, after all, to be made.

About a quarter of an hour later voices came quite near to them. One said: “Well, you know, this may be all right as far as we’ve seen, but look at all this timber—anyone could hide amongst it.”

A.J.’s arm tightened round Daly, and from her sudden stillness he thought she must be half-fainting.

Another voice said: “Yes, of course, that’s true. And this fellow’s been putting in for nights at all kinds of lonely places—nothing at all to stop anybody from coming aboard while he’s been asleep.”

Akhiz said: “Timber very heavy to move.”

“She had a man with her.”

Akhiz repeated: “Timber very heavy.”

“Yes, you fool, you’ve said it once.”

Then from various sounds and movements it was apparent that a few of the men were trying to move some of the logs.

Later a voice said: “Well, how do you move the stuff then?”

“Big crane comes along,” said Akhiz.

“Well, keep a look-out when you unload, that’s all. I don’t suppose anyone can be here, but still, as I say, keep a look- out.”

After which the voices and footsteps disappeared. That was during the afternoon, and Akhiz did not release his prisoners until dusk. By that time they were stiff with cramp and chilled to the bone. “Very heavy, eh?” whispered Akhiz, beaming at them, when he had pushed the log a foot or so out of place. He seemed delighted at his own share in the escapade, though still incurious as to what it was all about. The quays were quite dark; the whole town, which in daylight had looked so important and flourishing, was now an overmastering stillness. Akhiz gave them scalding tea in his cabin; A.J. then gave Akhiz the twenty-four roubles agreed upon, plus another six for his extra services in outwitting the searchers, plus a small tin of American baked beans. Then they bade good-bye to their faithful host and saviour, who kissed A.J. with tremendous fervour, and even then, at that last moment, forbore to ask where they were going or what they were intending to do. Finally Akhiz went on deck to see if the quays were clear for them. There were sentries patrolling around, on the look-out for pilfering, but it was not very difficult to choose a safe moment to cross the litter of railway tracks and reach one of the steep alleys leading up from the docks to the town.

When they carne to the less deserted streets they were able to judge that Saratof was in a scarcely happier condition than Novarodar. The shop-windows were empty; the cafés closed and shuttered; no trams were running. It was all depressing enough, except for the fact that it was, after all, Saratof—the last important stage-point on their long journey from danger into safety. The Whites were but a few score miles away, which, after reckoning for so long in terms of hundreds of miles, seemed next to nothing at all; Denikin’s army, too, might have been advancing and have made the interval even less. As he trudged over the crunching snow, A.J.’s spirits rose as he contemplated the future.

But there was a more immediate future to be decided. Refreshed and abundantly fit after the river-journey, he would have pushed on that very night, and Daly also was anxious to avoid delay. For a time they talked of reaching some village perhaps ten miles or so out of Saratof and seeking accommodation there. Villages were safer than towns; the people in them were usually more kindly, less terrified of the authorities, and less likely to be inquisitive about passports and travel-permits.