CHAPTER IV.BORIS GOES A-SAILING.
It was all very well for Boris to tell his new friend that he wouldenter his service; but when, away from the glamour of his presence,he considered the matter in cold blood, it appeared to him to be asomewhat audacious proceeding on his part to coolly bring to his mastera note from some one else, whom he could only describe as a tall andmasterful young barin of the name of Peter Alexeyevitch, stating thatsomebody proposed to deprive his lawful lord of the services of hispaid serf and servant, the bear-hunter! Why, after all, should his lordconsent to so audacious a proposal from a total stranger? There wasno reason that Boris knew why he should do so; in all probability hewould refuse, and perhaps punish Boris besides for his impertinence anddisloyalty in proposing such a thing, or at least being a consentingparty to such a proposal. Hence Boris entered the barin's house atDubinka in some trepidation, and gave his letter into the master's ownhands, quite expecting an angry reception.
"Well, Boris, so you killed one of the two bears, I'm told," beganthe barin. "You've come for your 'tea-money,' I suppose? Well, youhave deserved it this time, and I shall pay it with pleasure. What'sthis?--a letter? from whom?"
"That's what I can't tell your Mercifulness," said Boris. "Petka, hecalls himself, but I don't know who he is, excepting that he is agentleman like yourself, and very big and strong--like me."
The barin took the letter and glanced at it; then he flushed, anduttered an exclamation of surprise. Then he laughed, and patted Boriskindly on the back.
"Bravo, Boris!" he said, "you have made a useful friend. Do you knowwhom this letter is from?"
"From Petka, of course!" said blunt Boris.
"Your friend is the Tsar of all the Russias, my son; and, moreover, hehas requested me to transfer you to his service. You are a lucky boy,Boris, and I hope you may do your new master credit. Serve him well.He is Peter, the Hope of the Nation; all Russia looks to him, for hepromises much. You are a lucky fellow, Boris, and you may be a greatman yet."
Astonishment and wonder had caused the bear-hunter to collapse into achair, a liberty he would never have thought of taking except underextraordinary circumstances. The Tsar! it was actually the Tsar himselfwho had stepped forward to save his humble life. Boris pinched his legto see whether he was awake or asleep: it was all right, he was notdreaming. And he had called him "Petka," and the Tsar had not promptlycut off his head for the impertinence! Perhaps he would to-morrow whenhe went to the burgomaster's house in the morning. And those were theTsar's servants with whose whining forms he had carpeted the floor ofthe entrance hall! Assuredly he would pay for all this with his head.
In a dazed condition Boris left the barin's presence, and walked hometo his father's cottage, wondering whether it would not be wiser, onthe whole, to disappear into the depths of the forest until such timeas the Tsar should have left Archangel and returned to Moscow? Butworthier thoughts quickly succeeded these promptings of cowardice.Boris recalled the Tsar's kind words--he had taken a fancy to thebear-hunter, he said; and again, "Russia had need of strong arms andbrave hearts!" If this was so, and he could please the magnificentyoung Tsar by doing it, he should unreservedly place his life and hisservice at Peter's disposal.
The next morning found Boris once again at the house of theburgomaster. This time the embroidered functionary in charge of thefront entrance, mindful of his experience of the preceding day, wascareful to keep his conversation void of offence, and to preserve arespectful demeanour to the owner of two such powerful fists. Actingperhaps on orders received, he ushered the young bear-hunter directlyinto the presence of his new master.
Peter sat at a table, busily employed in manipulating a modelsailing-vessel, explaining the uses of the various sails and otherportions of the ship's furniture to a stolidly attentive companion,who sat and listened and smoked, and occasionally bowed his head inassent to the propositions laid down by his handsome young companion.There could not well be a greater contrast between any two men thanexisted between these two--the one, a short, thick-set, squat-figured,Dutch-built caricature of a man; the other, tall, far beyond theordinary height of man, straight as any one of all the millions ofpines that stood sentinel over his vast dominions, noble and majestic,the very incarnate spirit of majesty.
Peter paused in his lesson to greet the new-comer.
"De Kuyper," he said, "look here! This is a fellow who calls himselfa bear-hunter, and I saw him the other day running away from a bearfor dear life, like a hare from a hound--it was grand! If I had notinterfered, the bear would have deprived me of the services of anexcellent soldier, or sailor, or keeper, or whatever I may decide tomake of him--eh, Boris?"
"I will serve your Majesty with my life blood in whatever manner youmay be pleased to use me," said Boris, kneeling before the young Tsarand touching the ground with his forehead; "and I entreat you toforgive my ignorance yesterday, and my impertinence in treating you aslittle better than my equal----"
"Nonsense," said Peter; "get up. I hate cringing and all foolery.You shall show me what you are good for; I shall see that you haveample opportunity. Meanwhile let's have no talk about equality orinferiority. You will find that they who serve me well are my equalsin all but the name. For the present you are my special body-servant,to attend me wherever I go. And first you shall attend me on board DeKuyper's ship, and we shall see what prospect there is of making asailor of you.--Come on, De Kuyper, the wind is getting up. We shallhave a glorious sail.--Come on you too, Boris."
De Kuyper was the fortunate skipper of the first foreign vessel whichhad entered the port of Archangel during the present season, afterthe disappearance of the ice had left the harbour open to arrivalsfrom abroad. Peter had instantly boarded the _Drei Gebrueder_ on itsappearance, and having himself purchased the cargo, and handsomelyrewarded the skipper and crew for their enterprise, carried away DeKuyper to be his guest and favourite companion until his departure fromArchangel. Under the Dutch skipper's guidance, Peter was laying thefoundations of that nautical experience which was so often to stand himin good stead in after life.
Boris was no sailor--indeed, he had never been fifty yards from theshore upon shipboard, though he had ventured very much further inswimming. His sensations, therefore, as the lumbering old vesselplunged through the waves, were the reverse of enviable. Peter himselfhandled the rudder, and gave all the necessary orders for managing thesails, insisting upon Boris doing his share of the work in spite of themisery of sea-sickness which sat heavily upon the poor landsman.
It was a splendid day--hot on shore, but delightfully cool and pleasantout at sea. The wind blew freshly from the north and east, and Petercrowded on all the sail he could. The clumsy old vessel, squat-builtand broad in the beam like her master, strained and groaned beneaththe weight of canvas, but sped along at a rate which filled the youngTsar's soul with the wildest delight. As usual, when particularlyhappy, he was boisterous and very noisy, poking fun at De Kuyper,Boris, and the sailors, and from time to time singing snatches of hisfavourite songs.
It so happened that a small boat which was attached by a short lengthof tow-rope to the stern of the _Drei Gebrueder_ presently broke adrift,in consequence of the strain, and floated away astern. The young Tsarwas annoyed. He loved a good boat, and disliked to see one needlesslylost before his eyes.
"De Kuyper," he shouted, "have you a swimmer on board? Send one ofyour Dutchmen after it! Come, look sharp about it! They're not afraidsurely? Why, I'll go myself; see here!"
Before the horrified skipper could prevent him, the rash young Tsar hadthrown away his kaftan and boots, and was in the act of mounting thebulwark, when a strong hand seized his shoulder and pulled him back.The Tsar flushed with anger, and raised his big right hand to strikethe man who had presumed to take so great a liberty; but Boris pushedback the lifted arm with a sweep of his own, leaped upon a hen-coopnear at hand, so to the bulwark of the vessel, and in an instant wasoverboard, battling with the waves, and making good progress towardsthe fast-disappearing b
oat, now far astern. The Tsar's face was allbeaming with delight in a moment.
"De Kuyper!" he cried, "look at the lad--a Russian lad, mind you,skipper; none of your Dutchmen! Would your Dutchmen swim those waves? Ithink not. I tell you, skipper, that bear-hunter is a man after my ownheart. Did you observe him push me aside--glorious!--as though I hadbeen the cabin-boy? Oh, for ten thousand such Russians!"
De Kuyper grunted and took the rudder, which Peter in his excitementhad neglected.
"Your bear-hunter had better look sharp and get into that boat," hemuttered, "for the sky looks squally, and we shall have a knock-aboutbefore we reach Archangel. The sooner we get him and the boat aboardthe better I shall be pleased!"
Boris meanwhile was fast gaining upon the lost boat. Soon he hadreached it and was hauling himself over the side. The oars were safe,so that he had little difficulty in propelling the small craft towardsthe larger vessel, which had put about, and was now coming round asquickly as possible, in order to take up the recovered boat and itsoccupant.
With some considerable difficulty, owing to the roughness of the sea,this was at last effected; and Boris felt that he was amply repaid forthe risk he had run by the few words of the Tsar, and his mighty gripof the hand.
"Bear-eater," he had said, "you are my brother; let that be understoodbetween us."
After this episode neither sea-sickness nor the discomfort of sittingin wet clothes could divert the mind of Boris from the thought ofhis exceeding great joy. He had been called "brother" by the youngTsar--the god-like Peter, who had been hailed almost from his cradleas the hope of Russia; of whom even the unlettered Boris in far-offArchangel had heard distant and indistinct rumours, as of some princeof fairyland, come from no one knew where, to work wonders for hisempire, and astonish the world by his power and magnificence! Now hehad seen this wonder of the age with his own eyes--he had spoken withhim--was his servant--had received his approbation, nay, had beencalled "brother" by him.
Boris, musing thus on his great good fortune, suddenly became aware ofa commotion on board. A squall had violently struck the vessel, and shewas heeling over till her rail lay deep in the surging sea, and herdeck sloped like the side of one of his beloved snow-hills. Peter, atthe helm, was shouting orders to the seamen, with his eyes fixed uponthe sails, while the vessel plunged and lay over till the seas washedher fore and aft.
De Kuyper rushed to the rudder.
"Steady her--steady, Tsar!" he shouted, "or we shall founder in aminute!"
Peter, wanting experience and unused to squalls and emergencies, wasthinking only of the splendid excitement of rushing through the bigwaves as fast as the ship could be made to go; the danger of themoment was nothing to him. Perhaps he did not realize it; he certainlydid not heed it.
"Steady her, I tell you!" shrieked the skipper once more. "Here; let mecome! I won't go to the bottom for a hundred Russian kings. Let go, Isay!"
Peter's face flushed angrily.
"Keep away, De Kuyper, keep away," he cried; "don't anger me. This isglorious!"
But De Kuyper knew that this was no time for the politeness of courtsand the deference due to princes. He seized Peter by the shoulders andforced him from the tiller.
"I'm skipper of this vessel," he shouted, "and I intend to be obeyedwhile aboard of her. You shall command when we get ashore, if we everdo!"
Peter let go his hold of the clumsy tiller-shaft, looking for a momentlike a thunder-cloud. During that moment he revolved in his mindwhether or not he should take up that squat little Dutch skipper in hisgreat arms and throw him overboard; but better impulses prevailed. Thevessel quickly righted under De Kuyper's experienced guidance, and flewthrough the water actually quicker than before, and upon a more evenkeel. In a moment Peter had recovered his equanimity. He burst intoa roar of laughter, and brought his big hand with a whack upon thelittle Dutchman's shoulder.
"Skipper," he cried, in his hearty loud tones of approval, "forgiveme! You are a better sailor than I am, and a plucky fellow to boot. Ilove a man who stands up to me. You Dutchmen are a fine race, and goodsailors."
De Kuyper, the excitement over and the danger past, was much upset bythe recollection of his rudeness to one who, though his inferior inthe art of sailing, was so immeasurably his superior in position andimportance. He apologized profusely and humbly, and on his knees beggedto be forgiven.
"Get up," said Peter, "and don't be a fool, skipper. I liked you farbetter when you forced me away from the tiller. I was a fool, and youtold me so; that is what I like in a man."