The sense of being totally alone in the world, without even the presence of God to comfort her, was too much. As she did most nights, Natalya began to cry into the rough sack that served for a pillow. That actually helped, at least a little.
The terrible thing is there is nothing I can tell myself I should have done differently. I didn’t act like a whore. I didn’t talk like a whore. I was dressed normally, like a teenaged girl. I didn’t do anything, so why should this have befallen me? Why? Can you answer that for me, God, if you’re out there? WHY?
Of course I know the answer; my parents and I were in a nice carriage, with a nice couple of horses pulling it. That made us rich, made us “class enemies,” the exact term the Bolsheviks used before beating me, or lining up for their fun. Or both.
Of course, the worst part wasn’t even the violation, the being made to serve. It was making me pretend to enjoy it to avoid another beating. Funny how both the Bolsheviks and the ship’s crew fixed on that. A certain kind of man? Are they all like that? No, I know they’re not. My father was a good man. I think these countrymen taking passage on this ship are good men. At least none of them look at me like a slightly rotten piece of meat.
I think if they lose, I’m going to join them in the water. I can take at least that much satisfaction, depriving these swine of the use of me.
“After midnight,” Mokrenko observed, in the forwardmost, portside cabin, “means not a lot of time. Okay, here’s what we do. Shukhov and Sarnof, dig out four dynamo lights from our baggage. Then get a uniform… make it one of the…”
The sergeant stopped at sensing the unsteady presence of Lieutenant Turgenev standing in the door. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Sergeant, but add me to the roster of those who can fight. At least somewhat, I can. I think.”
“All right, sir,” Mokrenko said, gently. “Can I ask you then to take one of your uniforms, cut open your cabin’s mattresses, and use the stuffing to make us a dummy to sit out in the open area?”
“I can do this. It may smell a little of puke before I am done.”
“That, sir, would be perfect. Now, Shukhov; get everyone’s pistols but the lieutenant’s, plus four boxes of ammunition, then meet me at the foremast. When you get there, pass out the pistols, at least two to each of us. Sarnof, you get the dynamo lights and a piece of rope. Hmmm… on second thought, no, get pieces, two more than long enough for the width of this open area plus one about half that. And please bring something to secure the dummy.”
“And, for God’s sake, everybody, do so quietly.”
The ambush was laid out in accordance with the plan of the passenger area. This area was forward, in what might otherwise have been accommodation for the crew. In the middle was an open area, through which the foremast penetrated the top deck on its way down to the keel. It was flanked by six cabins, three to either side, plus a forward storage area kept under lock and key by the captain.
“Listen up,” Mokrenko said, when everyone had assembled by the foremost portside cabin. “Everyone have their shashka?”
“Yes,” answered each man in turn, just audibly, though Turgenev whispered, “I’ve got it. I’m leaning on it. But, while I can probably shoot, I have my doubts about using a sword very effectively at the moment.”
“Not a problem, sir,” Mokrenko said. “You shouldn’t even have to shoot. First off, everyone gets two pistols except the lieutenant, who gets one. Everyone gets one of the dynamo lights. Shukhov, tie the lieutenant’s dummy to the mast, facing the rear. Then you go over to the corner by the cabin we met in, also facing the rear of the ship. The ‘stern,’ they call it. If they attack before we’re ready, light up and open fire. The rest of us will dive low.”
“I understand, Sergeant,” Shukhov whispered back. “I’m putting my mess kit under the hat, so we get a louder sound if they try to brain it.”
“Good thought.”
Then Mokrenko, carrying both lengths of rope, led the lieutenant and Sarnof to the starboard side rearmost cabin. “Just wait here, sir. I’ll be back.”
From there, still carrying the rope, he crossed the deck to the opposite cabin. Opening the doorway—the “hatch,” the sailors would have called it, he went inside and felt around for the fixed bunkbeds against the hull. He tied a rope each to the ends of these, one at the head and one at the foot, with the one at the head a half an arshin higher than the one at the foot. He then played out the rope behind him, on the deck, as he crossed back to Turgenev and Sarnof.
At the other cabin, he passed the rope around the bunks, handing the free end of one each to Turgenev and Sarnof. He worked as deliberately and carefully as his increasing sense of dread allowed. I’ve never been in a fight on the water. What if it’s different from on land?
He thought it best to explain what he wanted and why.
“They’ve seen our swords,” Mokrenko said. “But they probably don’t have a clue about the pistols or the dynamo lights. If they had that clue, they probably wouldn’t even try to take us.
“When Shukhov and I hear them enter this area, we’re going to light them up and open fire. I think they’ll run away… but we don’t want them to run away. That’s why I want you two to haul on those ropes with everything you have as soon as we open fire. When they run, they trip, then Shukhov and I attack—and you, too, Sarnof, and chop them up good. No prisoners, no survivors.”
Seeing there wasn’t going to be any argument about that, not even from the lieutenant, who tended towards gentility, Mokrenko continued. “Once we’ve finished off this group, you two go up on the top deck and clear it of sailors. Any that want to surrender at that point can, but at the slightest sign of treachery or resistance, kill them. Meanwhile, Shukhov and I will clear this deck to the stern. Questions?”
“You don’t want us to shoot from here?” Turgenev asked.
“No, sir; our pistols are enough for this part. Shoot only if one of them comes in here.”
Mokrenko left those two and that cabin, working his way silently to the straw dummy—which did, indeed, reek of human vomit—then to Shukhov. He stiffened at the sound of rats scurrying across wood. Them? Or rats fleeing them?
“You awake?”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
Mokrenko passed one end of the short rope to Shukhov. “Okay, loop the end of this rope around your arm. I’ll do the same. If one of us is dumb enough to fall asleep, the other can wake him.”
“I understand, Sergeant. Good idea.”
“Also, you take the ones from the mast to the left. I’ll take the ones from the mast to the right. We light them up, empty both pistols, draw our shashka and charge.”
“I understand, Sergeant.”
Mokrenko went then to the corner opposite Shukhov’s. There he sat carefully, laid his shashka across his lap, took one pistol in his right hand, and waited.
The remaining five men of the expedition were all, in considerable misery, collected into the portside foremost cabin, with the medic, Timashuk, armed with the last pistol, to guard them.
Well, thought Mokrenko, if the ambush fails, it is unlikely, given Timashuk’s continuing nausea, that any will survive. At least they’ll be able to go down fighting.