Читать книгу Rescuing the Czar - James P. Smythe - Страница 17

18. This looks exciting:

"I must jot down this experience: When I was taken from the log cabin I was blindfolded and again strapped into a flying machine. There were half a dozen soldiers present; and ONE was certainly an ENGLISHMAN—I had heard his voice before. I NEVER forget a voice. If his eyes ever meet these lines he will remember me, I know. I can describe him from memory. He was medium height, wore a drooping moustache slightly sprinkled with gray and used two pairs of tortoise-shell glasses. When I met him at The Pines in the Isle of Wight we had both been through the Battle of the Somme and were recuperating from our siege amid the shell holes and the mud. I CLAIMED to be an American, and he, as a descendant of the victor of Trafalgar, scolded me roundly and vicariously for not forcing the United States into the war on the side of Britain—he'll remember that. … Perhaps it was because he DID recognize me that he insisted on my being blindfolded and handled roughly when I was led away. … The rest of the squad spoke FRENCH very poorly. … They asked me a number of questions, to which I shook my head; and, candidly, I could do so without doing violence to my knowledge of idiomatic French! … I heard them say to one another, 'When we get him to the stockade we'll see what he is made of.' 'Yes; a firing squad'll be the best thing for ALL of them.' 'Certainly! we'll follow Machiavelli's recommendation in The Prince—EXTERMINATE the whole race!' That's the idea! There should be no Louis XVIII bobbing up a generation from now to overthrow the democracy.' … To be honest with my conscience I felt creepy. … I really wanted to tell them that they had got the WRONG FELLOW, but when I tried to speak my tongue felt so dry and thick that I could not utter an audible word … so I remained involuntarily silent. … Well, on this flight I was more comfortable than on the last; but I thought it would never end and I felt horribly SEASICK. … Finally I was landed and hustled into a court made from the ends of small logs pegged into the ground like an improvised palisade—it was in a little village. …

" … There were hundreds of tatterdemalians of all nations in various uniforms and smoking vile cigarettes, lounging carelessly around. … In a little while a dozen prisoners issued from a small guardhouse in one corner of the enclosure and were conducted at the point of the bayonet to the spot where I stood. … The officer of this firing squad looked viciously at me and ordered me to 'fall in.' … We were then marched to the log wall about fifty paces to the left of the guardhouse and commanded to 'about face.' … When we did so we saw a firing squad of eighteen men in command of a Sergeant who gave the order 'Prepare to fire!' … At this point the officer stepped forward and, addressing me personally, said: 'Do you know of any reason why you should not be shot for participating in the abduction of the Imperial family?' … This was a puzzler. … I was innocent enough of such an accusation, BUT the officer before me looked about as much like a Royalist as I in my present disheveled condition looked like a member of the French Cabinet. … If I denied my guilt I felt certain of a bullet in my heart from such an ugly, unkempt mob. … Glancing at my apparel I looked fit to be one of their number, so I said courageously: 'I am PROUD to say that I am the ringleader who engineered the whole business! … "

If it gives you any satisfaction to see me die, don't waste your breath asking me any further questions—go ahead and fire!' … 'Very well,' he snapped and made me about-face to the firing squad … For a few seconds he held a silent conversation with the Sergeant. … That functionary approached with a handkerchief. 'Will you be blindfolded?' he asked. 'Thank you, I prefer to see what's going on,' I answered. … The other prisoners followed my example. … We were ordered to step back against the wall. … The squad raised their rifles at the command of 'aim.' … I now know that I felt positively nauseated at the moment, but I actually SMILED. … 'Fire!' … There was a rattle of musketry and every prisoner beside me fell forward dead. … I STOOD THERE ALONE, uninjured and alive … coming toward me down the path was the daring female acrobatic aviator with her friend, the performer of the Métropole, robed in a shimmering sport outing costume, and smiling very sweetly to the Officer of the Guard. …

" … I am certain now that this veiled lady from Buckingham is in league with this gang of Bolsheviki—and I am also certain that I owe my life to the boast I made of being a murderer myself! … "

19. The following entry reads:

"A man who has escaped death is not to be trusted on a point of discretion—he doesn't know how to select his friends. He is like a spirit emerging from nowhere in the eternal void and grabs at the first apparition that promises companionship in his embarrassing and momentary isolation. … Well, I was so glad to see that Buckingham Clorinda that I was willing to take her into my confidence at once. … She seemed so sympathetic! … 'I commend your bravery,' she said prettily, offering me her hand. … It was small and beautifully moulded, yet firm and steady, and sent an electric thrill through me like a flash. … Her eyes would disarm the most suspicious diplomatic free-lance in the world. … Struck with admiration, hypnotized by her voice, I could only blurt, 'I thank you.'

" … 'We are looking for a man of approved courage,' she continued earnestly; 'we are more than satisfied that YOU are the man.' … Again I muttered my thanks. … 'How long have you been a member?' she then asked carelessly. … THIS was not so easily answered. … I thought quickly. … 'Long enough to KNOW my lesson!' I answered oracularly. … 'You still remember your instructions?' … 'What instructions?' She answered my question by asking, 'Were they not BURNED?' … 'Who is this encyclopædic lady?' I asked myself. 'What manner of TRAP is she setting for me now?' … 'Why did you SANDBAG me?' was MY answer. … 'You are NOT to ask questions,' she returned. 'Are you not satisfied with results?' …

" … 'I am still alive.' … 'Well,' she smiled, 'a live Bolshevik, of OUR kind, is much better than a dead diplomat!' … I was taken into an improvised kitchen and indulged in a splendid meal. … I took no wine. …

" … My meal being finished she offered me an excellent cigarette. … Glancing up through a ring of smoke my eyes fell upon a rough black-and-white sketch of a tall, smooth-faced, keen-eyed man with rather large ears, firm and thin-cut lips, high forehead and steadfast gaze, dressed in the uniform of a General Officer, with a single decoration on his left breast. … she observed me closely as I gazed. … I KNEW this man and was about to exclaim: 'The savior of this country!' … but something restrained my enthusiasm. … 'You recognize him, I see,' she insinuated. … 'WHO is he?' I dodged. … She merely smiled. … She evidently realizes the wonderful power of that disarming smile and the fascination of good teeth in a shapely head. … 'You'll do!' she said with apparent reservation as she tapped a tiny bell. …

" … A short, thickset man appeared—he is not positively ugly, but he has a way of staring at one that is rather ill-bred. … There is a gold band around his left wrist and a scar upon his right cheek. … I am sure he is the SAME man I met at one of Sadakichi-Hartmann's readings from Ibsen's Ghosts. … He may recall the time. … It was in an abandoned palace on Russian Hill, somewhere in America; the lady at his left was discussing the difficulties of getting her motor car into Ragiz; the younger one on his right was known as Alma and gave her address as East 61st Street, New York … and ALL THREE were quite convinced that the Central Powers will defeat the Allies. … He is an international character and will remember this incident as well as the following: ' … This gentleman will join your party for Ekaterinburg tonight, YOU understand. If there are any mistakes I shall not answer for results!' There were NO introductions. … The man bowed and began to back away. … 'YOU may accompany him,' she said, rising and flitting from the room. … I believe I understand what this party means! … There is to be a SHOOTING party at Ekaterinburg under the auspices of the Bolshevists in a day or two and I may be ONE of the 'mistakes' for which that mystifying lady disclaims responsibility. … My companion certainly looks like a bandit, and manifests the strength of a wild bull. … He seems much interested in that patch on my shirt sleeve. … "