He turned, after a moment, and walked aft. They were not yet free. If Zinnovy knew they had started and had slipped out of the harbor he might sail north and round Japonski Island to cut them off. Only, it was dark, and while the night lasted there was still a chance.
"Barney." LaBarge stopped beside Kohl, who had turned the wheel over to Larsen.
"You told me you once took a boat through Neva Strait." Kohl was still sweating out the near collision. "But that was in broad daylight!" he protested.
Jean grinned at him. "Next time you see the crowd at the Merchant's Exchange," he told him, "you can tell them you're the only man alive who ever took a schooner through Neva Strait in the dark!"
Chapter 23
Helena, wrapped in a dark cloak, returned to the deck. She had stood by during part of the escape operation, and now she, listened to comments of the crew. This ship, she realized, was operated as though every man aboard had a real share in its success. Rolling along under a good head of sail with a following wind, the crew stood by, alert for whatever might come. "Neva Strait," Kohl was explaining patiently, "is four miles of pure hell in the daytime. The Whitestone Narrows are maybe forty yards wide, possibly less. In the daylight the dangers are marked by kelp, and some of the rocks are awash. At night you can't see anything."
LaBarge knew that Kohl's first instinct when danger threatened the ship was to hesitate, to object to the risk. His second instinct was to weigh their chances and if the situation warranted it, to go along with the risk. "And if we get through? What then?"
"Peril Strait around the end of the island, and once in the sound on the other side, we sail north."
"One thing I'll say," Kohl grumbled, "you've got guts."
"A good ship and a good crew," LaBarge added.
Together he and Helena walked to the waist, where a little spray was breaking over the gunwale, and it tasted salt on their lips. They were silent together, listening to the bow-wash about the hull, the whining of wind in the rigging, and the straining of the schooner against sea arid wind. These were sounds of the sea, the sounds a man remembers when he lies awake at night on shore, and hears in his blood, feels deep in the convolutions of his brain, the sounds that have taken men back to the sea for these thousands of years. The winds that whispered in the rigging had blown long over the icy steppes and the cold Arctic plains, and over empty, lonely, unknown seas that lay gray under gray clouds. Neither of them could avoid the realization that if all went well they would be together for months on end. Now, for the first time, they knew they were definitely committed to a long journey together. As their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness they could watch the whitecaps on the dark, glasslike waves, and see the darker, unknown shores that rose abruptly from the water's edge. "You seemed very calm."
"I wasn't," Jean admitted, "I was scared."
"This story I must tell to my uncle. He will enjoy it." She changed the subject.
"The Neva Strait ... it is bad?"
"Did you ever walk down a dark hallway in a strange house, a hallway scattered at random with chairs? It will be like that."
"You leave it to the mate?"
"I'd better ... he's twice the sailor I am. Don't be fooled by that business back there: I was gambling that they wouldn't think I'd take such a risk. Also, I've a good ship and a good crew, and I knew they would be ready for anything that might happen. For day-to-day sailing Kohl is much better than I am." They were silent, watching the water. Helena knew that Zinnovy had gone so far now that withdrawal was impossible. Although the shooting of Rotcheff could not be proved, if she reached the Czar his position would be at least endangered and might be finished. It was always easier to explain a disappearance than to escape consequences of crime when confronted by a witness. Yet the longer Zinnovy pursued the schooner the better Rotcheff's chances of recovery without hindrance, and Rotcheff would be in touch with Busch. The merchant had as many fighting men as Zinnovy himself and would be no more reluctant to use them. Long after Helena went below, Jean remained on deck. He walked forward to where Boyar stood lookout in the bow. "You have crossed Siberia, Boyar? How long would it require?"
"Who can say? Three months? Or three years? It is a long trip, nearly six thousand of miles, and the roads are bad, the troikas miserable, the people indifferent or criminal."
Three months ... they could scarcely hope to make it faster even though she was a niece of the Czar. To secure an escort they must appeal to the very people they wished to avoid. The headquarters of the Russian American Company was in Siberia, and many of the officials were actually in the pay of the Company. The shores slipped by in darkness. It gave him an eerie feeling to be sliding into these narrow channels, uncharted and largely unknown. How many men might already have lost their lives here, unrecorded by history? Captain Cook had been here, and the Spanish before that, and the Russian ships. The first Russians who had come to these islands had vanished. There was a story in the Tlingit villages that a chief covered with a bearskin had enticed them into the woods and into an ambush. A second boat sent ashore to find the first vanished in the same way. Their ship had waited and waited, then finally sailed away. But Chinese and Japanese fishing boats had been carried to this coast, and some of their crews might have survived. What strange lives they must then have led, with no hope of return to their homes.
"Neva Point ahead, Captain."
"Go aft and report to Mr. Kohl. I'll stand watch." He tasted the smell of pines on the wind, heard the splash of something falling into water. Behind him the crew were moving about, taking in sail. The Point loomed suddenly on their left, well defined. On their right a breaking rock showed a ruffle of white foam where the angry lips of the sea bared its teeth against the shore.
Kohl came forward and spat across the rail. "Thank God, she's deep enough.
There's four fathoms in the Narrows, and it's deeper beyond." The Whitestone Narrows closed down on them like the jaws of a trap. It was cooler there, with the forest closer. They could hear the murmur of wind in the pines, but the schooner moved forward confidently. Ahead of them there was faint gray in the sky.
After what seemed a long time of creeping down the dark Narrows the schooner slid into the open water beyond. The Neva lay behind ... how long had it been? "Nearly two hours," Kohl said. "There aren't any fast passages of the Neva." Pope came on deck to take over the watch. He glanced at the graying sky, a thin, silent man who seemed ever discontented with things as they were. He swore bitterly when he realized they had passed the Neva in his sleep, and swore again when he learned he must take her through Peril Strait. Finally, more tired than he could have believed, Jean stumbled down the companionway and stood in the paneled cabin, watching the brass lamp sway to the ship's movement. Helena was at the table with a freshly brewed pot of tea. "Mr. Kohl took his to his bunk. Sit down. You looked exhausted." Gratefully, he accepted the tea. The warmth went through him slowly, taking the chill from his muscles, the damp from his bones. He was the first to speak and it was of something he had considered for a long time. "There's something you can do for me," he said. "You can do it if anyone can. I want to see the Czar."
She was startled. "The Czar! But why?"
"Maybe ... I don't know ... he might consider selling Alaska to the United States. If he should agree ... well, Rob Walker could do the rest." "I can promise nothing, but I can try."
She was silent, and he saw how white were her fingers that pressed the cup, and the shadows under her eyes, shadows he had not been able to see out on the deck under the clouds. "Jean, Jean," she whispered, "I wish I knew how he was." "He'll be all right."