Chapter XXXIII How Strong escaped from Prison
“You’re such an infernal blackguard, you see, Strong,” continued Jack, with engaging candour, “that one must be very careful in dealing with a man like yourself. It seems to me that it’s Siberia or the gibbet, my friend; and upon my word, I don’t quite know which to advise in your best interests. Tell us what happened at Narva.”
James Strong was considerably cowed by his experiences, and obeyed without further demur. Undoubtedly, his tale was full of untruth, but as he gave it to us I will pass it on to the reader. We were able to learn a truer version subsequently.
Strong declared that he had been taken to Narva by the fishermen, having been bound by them while still unconscious from the effects of a blow on the head from Gavril’s staff. At Narva he was thrust into a miserable prison or police cell, where he was interrogated by persons who could not understand him, nor he them. A Swedish interpreter was brought, and Strong was knocked about and bullied because he protested that he could understand Swedish no better than Russian. He repeated the word “English” in hopes that an English interpreter would be produced, but none appeared. He was half starved and atrociously bullied by Russian policemen, and so the time passed until the witness Kuzmá came to give evidence against him. At the trial the English Consul came and spoke for him (this was in consequence of our letter, no doubt), but he was taken back to his cell, the Consul informing him that he could do nothing to save him from the consequences of his violence. He would probably be convicted of attempted murder and deported to Siberia.
That night was celebrated, Strong explained, some Russian church holiday, and everyone was drunk or half drunk. He succeeded in escaping from the wooden building in which he was confined, and in finding his way down by the river to the port, securing a small boat, which proved to be rotten and to leak vilely, in which he put out to sea; he hoped to get away and finally return somehow to Hogland, where he might even yet find the treasure before we arrived, and escape with it on the first steamer that passed.
“You can’t blame me for that,” interposed Strong at this point. “I had as much right to the treasure as you, if I could find it first.”
“Oh, quite so, Strong,” said Jack. “We don’t always approve of some of your methods—as, for instance, of your attempts to remove us out of the way, us and poor Clutterbuck—but we never denied your right to compete. Proceed. Whom did you murder, and how, in order to escape from your cell?”
“You never give me a chance, curse you!” said Strong, looking livid with rage. “I have never killed a human creature. Clutterbuck fell down a nullah and broke his neck. I shot wide of you on purpose—it was necessary to frighten you off—and these fellows too. Did I murder one of them or one of you?”
“What about my leg, Strong? you infernal lying blackguard!” I said.
“I was bound to keep you back how I could,” he cried hotly; “I am sorry I hurt you, but that’s not murder, and you know it.”
“I know it was meant to be,” I said.
“It was not,” he cried; “I fired wide on purpose. One doesn’t hit a man in the leg if one means killing.”
“Oh, come, Strong; you are a poor shot, you know, at the best!” said Jack. “We don’t forget Graciosa! Go on with your story.”
“Oh, curse Graciosa, and you too!” said Strong surlily, and not another word could we get out of him at this time.
But Kuzmá told us the rest of it—that is to say, from the point at which Strong left off—though we only heard the true version of his escape from Narva at a later date, and from another source.
Kuzmá returning to Hogland in his fishing-boat, had seen in the distance, when about an hour out from Narva, a small craft occupied by one man, who seemed to be in difficulties, since he shouted and gesticulated.
As Kuzmá and his companion consulted whether to head for the small boat in order to offer assistance, they suddenly observed that the vessel had disappeared. Sailing up to the place where it had sunk they had come upon a man swimming, whom they did not recognise for Strong until they had pulled him on board.
When they did recognise him, said Kuzmá, they were for pitching him back into the sea; but Strong had a knife, and looked so dangerous, that they thought it wiser to bring him along, which they did. They knew nothing of his escape or anything else, excepting that they fully intended to make a little money out of the job, presently, by restoring him to the authorities, and claiming a gratuity.
Had they known more, they would probably have smashed in his head with an oar, and pitched him back into the gulf. Cash rewards are very, very pleasant things; but under some circumstances Kuzmá would have felt even greater satisfaction in smashing a head than in earning money by preserving it whole for others to smash!
On the following day we might fairly begin to look out for the return of our good steamship the Thomas Wilcox, and it became necessary to settle something as to James Strong and his fate.
The Russians, Kuzmá and his friends, being aggrieved parties, and also interested in a pecuniary way in returning the prisoner to his bonds, were naturally all for conveying him back to Narva under strong escort; but this James Strong besought us with tears and piteous entreaties at all hazards to disallow. He would assuredly be sent to Siberia or starved or flogged to death, he protested; nothing could save him. “For the love of Heaven,” he begged us, “let me sail with you from this accursed place.”
“But I can’t, we can’t do it, as honest men!” said Jack, in some perplexity for the wretched fellow. “Don’t you see, man, that if you set foot in England we are bound to denounce you?”
“Then land me at Copenhagen,” said Strong, “or anywhere.”
“But you’ll take the first steamer on to Hull, and the difficulties will all begin again,” said I.
“I won’t—I swear it!” he cried. “I’ll sign anything you like.”
Jack and I held a consultation over this knotty question. No doubt it will be said that our duty was obviously either to abandon the miscreant to these poor fellows, whom he had deeply aggrieved, and who would restore him into the hands of those who would try him; or else to take him to England ourselves, and arraign him there.
And yet, stern and judicial reader of these lines, we felt that either course would be equally repugnant to us. We could not allow these Russians to have their will of the fellow; how did we know that they would not knock him on the head, without trial, so soon as we were afloat? As for taking him to England and accusing him of murder, fully as we believed him guilty, we were without absolute proof, and the work of establishing a case against him was not an enterprise we cared to undertake.
In the end we decided to buy the man off from these islanders for the sum of one hundred roubles, which they gladly accepted, and to allow him to accompany us as far as Copenhagen, where he should land. In consideration, therefore, of a signed statement from him that he was guiltless of the murder of Clutterbuck, who, he solemnly declared, had fallen in fair fight during a struggle for the revolver, which had exploded and killed Clutterbuck on the spot; in consideration, I say, of a declaration to this effect, Jack and I both undertook to leave Strong unmolested so long as he did not cross our path in England. So sure as he ever came near us again, for good or ill, he should be denounced by us without further compunction.