Louis L'Amour - Sitka

"Found a man I know," Boyar continued, "told me Zinnovy threw a scare into Rudakof. Officially, the director outranks him, but Zinnovy has frightened Rudakof with his influence in St. Petersburg."

"Go back to the boat and tell the boys I want a close watch. At the first sign of that Russian square-rigger I want to be notified, no matter where I am or what I'm doing."

They could leave now, but payment depended on delivery of the wheat, and moreover, he needed the cargo space. The schooner was small and lightly built, and without that space he could do nothing.

He walked to the knoll and seated himself at a table in one of the tearooms. A girl came to his table, smiling in a friendly way, and he ordered honey cakes and tea. Sitting over the tea he tried to surmise what Rudakof was planning. Obviously, he wanted neither to lose the wheat nor see the schooner leave before Zinnovy returned.

The waitress was a pretty blonde with braids wrapped around her head and dark blue eyes that laughed when her lips smiled. Her mouth was wide and friendly, and as she refilled his cup, her eyes caught his. "You are Boston man?" "Yes."

"You have beautiful ship." She spoke carefully and chose her words hesitantly. "When I was small girl a Boston man gave me a doll from China. He said he had a little girl like me."

"I'll bet," Jean smiled at her, "he'd like a big girl like you." "Maybe. I think so." Her eyes danced. "Most Boston men like to have girl." She wrinkled her nose at him. "Even Eskimo girl."

An idea came to him suddenly. How much pressure could Rudakof stand? Suppose a little pressure could be generated?

He spoke casually. "Count Rotcheff ordered a cargo of wheat for delivery here on my ship, and now Rudakof won't accept it."

"He is a fool!" She spoke sharply. Then what he had said registered. "You have wheat? Oh, but we need it! You must not take it away!" "I'd like to unload tonight or tomorrow," he said, "but I doubt if I can get a permit."

"You wait!" She turned quickly and went into the kitchen, and listening, he heard excited talk. A few minutes later a stocky, hard-faced Russian emerged from the kitchen and stalked angrily out the door. LaBarge sat back in the chair. The tea was good and the honey cakes like nothing aboard ship. He had a feeling something had been started that not even Rudakof could stop. Sitka was a small town. In the several hours before he was to meet Rudakof at dinner everyone in town would know he had a cargo of wheat, and if a wheat shortage existed, the director should begin to feel the protests. When he had finished his tea he placed a gold coin on the table. When she handed him his change, he brushed it aside. "You did not tell me your name?" "Dounia." She blushed. "And you?"

"Jean LaBarge."

"It is too much. I cannot take the money."

He accepted the change, then returned half of it. With a quick glance to see if anyone saw, she pocketed it. "You might," he suggested, "whisper something to the man who just left."

"My father."

"You might whisper that if Rudakof does not unload the cargo promptly, I shall be forced to leave. Unless and this you must whisper very softly, unless someone came at night to unload it, someone who could sign for it, someone reliable, whose name Count Rotcheff would accept."

Chapter 16

Rudakof's round face was beaming when Jean came into the room; he seemed a little drunk and very pleased with himself. It appeared that the problem the arrival of the Susquehanna presented was deemed to be over. He grasped Jean's hand eagerly. "Come, my friend! Sit down! Whatever else our Castle holds nobody ever complains of the cellar! What will you have? A bottle of Madeira?" Jean was pleasant but wary. Rudakof was too sure of himself. "Thank you," he said, glancing swiftly around the room.

At Rudakof's signal the servant came with two glasses. "Dinner will be served at once," Rudakof explained, "and we have a few guests." Jean tasted the wine. "You have a very interesting city," he said, deciding to strike a blow at Rudakof's new confidence. "I walked about a good deal, and talked with some of your people."

The smile left the Russian's face. Obviously this did not please him, but his spirits were too high to be undermined so easily. They toasted their respective governments and the glasses were refilled. "To the Grand Duke Constantin!" Jean proposed.

Rudakof hesitated, obviously startled, then repeated in a dull voice, "To the Grand Duke." He drank, but some of the bounce was gone out of him. Jean guessed that when one worked for the Russian American Company there were some to whom it was not good politics to drink.

The other guests were arriving. A French botanist and a German geologist who traveled in company, and a young Russian naval lieutenant named Yonovski, a handsome youngster with blond curly hair. "You have a fine schooner, Captain," Yonovski told him. "Have you had a chance to visit any of the islands?" "We came by open sea. Count Rotcheff wished us to arrive as quickly as possible."

"Oh?" Yonovski was surprised. "You know the Count?"

"He is in San Francisco, but he'll soon return to Sitka." Several of those at the table exchanged glances, obviously surprised. Rudakof, his face growing redder, filled Jean's glass. "Come, come!" he protested. "No business! The Captain is our guest!"

The conversation turned to California, the sudden westward advance of the United States due to the gold rush, and the somewhat similar movement in Siberia. Yet several of those at the table seemed preoccupied, and one of these was a tall man, stooped in the shoulders. He was a lean, hard, capable-looking man who was later introduced as Busch, a merchant-trader.

All were much interested in the American attitude toward Russia. Obviously with the situation in Europe growing serious this was becoming a major factor at Sitka.

When they moved into the next room for brandy and cigars Rudakof was beaming and jovial; the numerous drinks were having their effect. He opened his collar to give his thick neck more freedom and became involved in a lively discussion with the geologist.

Almost accidentally, LaBarge found Busch at his side. The tall man studied him out of cool, intelligent eyes. "Is it true, Captain, that you have wheat aboard? And you have not received permission to discharge the cargo?" "That's right." Rudakof's broad beam was turned to them; he did not notice their conversation. "In fact, the director seemed upset instead of pleased, and when I asked to have lighters at once, he created delays." "This wheat ... how much is it worth?"

"That's just it. The wheat was ordered by Count Rotcheff and the money for payment is on deposit in a San Francisco bank. I can collect payment by showing a receipt signed by the governor, or"--he paused--"by other responsible parties who will see the wheat used for the benefit of the colony." "Paid for?" Busch was astonished.

"Evidently," Jean suggested tentatively, "everyone is not anxious to see the wheat delivered."

For a few minutes Busch said nothing, then, "You will understand, Captain, that in our country as well as yours there are factions, and there are those who would make money even at the expense of their country. I realize this is hard to believe, but there are men who regard nothing as disloyal as long as the profits are large. Loyalty to their pocketbook or to their business firm is above loyalty to their country."

"It's the same in my country."

"I think men vary little the world over, but there are always a few who serve and ask nothing but to serve. The survival of the Sitka colony is of interest to me, and at this moment your wheat is almost the price of that survival." Yonovski interrupted and Busch moved away. The conversation grew more desultory and more ribald. Finally, the party broke up and Jean started down the steps. His eyes swept the dark harbor, searching out the schooner. Another ship was showing her lights, anchored only a short distance from the Susquehanna! From her size she could only be the patrol ship.