Владимир Беляев - The Town By The Sea

For a whole year after that Rogale-Piontkovskaya and her agents were left to themselves.

Connections with London broke down. For a long time no ship flying a British flag entered a Soviet port. Madame's bosses decided to make contact with her by other means.

Had he succeeded in blowing up security headquarters in our town in Podolia, Kozyr-Zyrka was to have visited the Donbas and the Azov coast and handed fresh instructions to other resident secret agents, Rogale-Piontkovskaya among them. Apparently that was the Kozyr-Zyrka's second task, which had baffled Vukovich for so long.

Many things that at first sight seemed trivial had helped Vukovich in his work. One of them was the chance suggestion I had made in my letter to Nikita that the keeper of the dancing-saloon might be a relation of the old countess whom we had seen in the far-off days of our childhood in Zarechye.

Vukovich established a link between Pecheritsa's appearance in the town by the sea and the fact that the engineer "killed at Uman" was passing the time very pleasantly abroad and had even got his name in that strangely named index of celebrities Who's Who.

When Polevoi wounded Kozyr-Zyrka in the loft of security headquarters, Kozyr-Zyrka took refuge in Pecheritsa's flat and entrusted Pecheritsa with this second task.

It was quite possible that had not Vukovich discovered in time where Kozyr-Zyrka was hiding, Pecheritsa might have made a "business trip" to Kharkov, taking in the Azov coast as well. But things

turned out differently. Pecheritsa had to flee and lat the same time carry out the task that he had been landed with by Kozyr-Zyrka.

When Vukovich had laid hands on both Pecheritsa and Kozyr-Zyrka, he was able to tie up all the threads.

Nikita's warning at the station had had a purpose. Any gossip about Rogale-Piontkovskaya might have hindered the exposure of the plot.

Madame's nerve had begun to fail her of late. As soon as she learnt that Kashket had been arrested, she hastily packed her family jewels and with the coming of dusk decided to go "for a boat trip."

While Petka Maremukha was acting her on the stage, Madame was making her way round the breakwater towards the foreign ship, which was finishing loading in the bay.

The town security chief did not tell us that evening that another boat with Soviet security men in it had followed Madame's boat, and that it was they who had prevented Madame from climbing aboard up a conveniently lowered rope ladder... He merely explained what a danger "had threatened the works, and mentioned in passing that "Madame was detained in time."........

I. must admit that many of us were still very puzzled during the night we spent guarding the works. I can write of it all now in such detail because the following days of discussion and thought about this mysterious affair helped us to understand what had happened.

Such a gale blew up in the evening that the yellow waves raged fiercely even in the harbour. The low-funnelled paddle steamer moored there ready for sailing rose and fell on the pounding seas.

The name of the ship was written in a semi-circle over one of the paddle-wheels:

FELIX DZERZHINSKY

Not long ago when calling at our port on its way to Kerch, this steamer had been the first to bring us the sad news of the death of the man whose name it now bore. Even before, it entered the harbour from the bay, we heard the melancholy note of its siren. Its flag, edged with mourning, flew at half mast.

Before the newspapers arrived from Mariupol, we had learnt all the details from the ship's wireless operator. We were told that Felix Dzerzhinsky had died of heart failure in Moscow, after his speech to the Central Committee, where with his usual vehemence he had exposed those despised enemies of the people—the Trotskyites. The news of Comrade Dzerzhinsky's death overwhelmed us... Not long ago, just before I set out for this town, I had heard Dzerzhinsky ring up the chief of our frontier-guard detachment. I still remembered with what excitement Nikita had said to me: "Do you know who that was on the phone? The first security man of the Revolution!"

The next day, at lunch-time, on Flegontov's instructions, I read out the Central Committee's announcement on the death of Dzerzhinsky to the workers of the foundry.

"The sudden death from heart failure of Comrade Dzerzhinsky, terror of the bourgeoisie, true knight of the proletariat, noble fighter for the communist revolution, tireless builder of our industry, ceaseless toiler and fearless soldier of great battles...

"His weak heart, strained beyond endurance, at last refused to function and death claimed him instantly. Death in battle..."

I got that far and stopped. Choking sobs rose in my throat. With an effort I checked myself from

bursting into tears before the whole foundry, before the sad, stern faces of my mates. Afterwards, when in a quiet, muffled voice I had finished reading the announcement, folded the newspaper and was walking back to my machine, Flegontov came up behind me and placed his heavy graphite-smeared worker's hand on my shoulder.

"Hard to read, wasn't it, Vasil?" he said quietly. "I know how you feel. What a great loss! You understand, old chap, how all of us—young and old, Communists and non-Communists—must rally round the Party to make up for our loss. We must press on no matter what the bourgeoisie plot against us. . ."

And now, as I stood on the quay looking at that name I loved so well, I still could not get used to the idea that Dzerzhinsky was no longer with us...

The Felix Dzerzhinsky was on her way to Rostov-on-Don from the Crimea and we were to make the stormy voyage on her to Mariupol, where a district Komsomol conference was being held.

Not being used to rough weather, we felt rather scared of putting out to sea on a night like this...

A tall sailor appeared on the upper deck and shouted: "Hi, Selezen! Get the boats ready!"

The sailor's voice had a familiar ring but I could not see his face.

Tolya Golovatsky, who was standing near me, said: "It's going to be tough, chaps! The barometer's falling."

"The wind seemed a bit quieter to me..."

"Don't you believe it, Mandzhura. Take a look at the weather tower. There were only eight balls hanging up there, this afternoon. Now there are nine."

"Yes, if the captain has ordered them to get the lifeboats ready, the sea must be really rough," Kolotilov, the freckled secretary of the customs Komsomol group, agreed with Golovatsky.

We mounted the creaking gangway and the officer of the watch checked our tickets. Golovatsky suggested going up on deck.

"The cabins are stuffy, you'll feel rotten down there," he said, glancing at Kolotilov who was already looking rather pale.

Having stacked our things near the stern life-boat, we went to the rail. We could make out distant signal lights somewhere near Kobazovaya Hill.

Soon the gangway was taken in. The stevedores cast off the bow line. There was a hiss of steam, the engine burst into life and the ship moved slowly away from the granite harbour wall. The stern line slipped off the mooring post and was thrown on to the deck. Its paddles churning swiftly, the ship manoeuvred out into the harbour. The rudder chain clanked. Slowly the grey hump-backed warehouses dwindled in the distance.

Striving to make his voice heard above the roar of the wind, Golovatsky shouted: "Shall we have a song, chaps?"

And taking our answer for granted, he struck up in a deep pleasant voice:

Forward, young sailors and Communists all,

Arise to build the new age!. . .

Looking back affectionately at our little harbour, we picked up the refrain in ringing voices that were at once borne away on the wind.

Dotted with twinkling yellow lights our town slipped past along the sandy Azov shore. As I sang my favourite song, I tried to pick out the lighted window of our little house. Sasha and Petka had volunteered to see me off, but I had refused. It had not been certain that the ship would leave on time, and they had to work the next day.