The Great Alone (24 page)

This was the reaction Walks Straight had sought. He wanted these Cossacks to have fear in their hearts. That’s why he had told Solovey about the killings of the Cossacks in detail. After learning what had happened to their comrades, they would be afraid of the Aleuts—and afraid to stay on the island. There was no need to fight the Cossacks if they could frighten them away instead.

When they set out in the yawl again and rowed toward the anchored
Sv Petr i Sv Pavel,
Ivan Solovey noticed more than one of his men glancing apprehensively back at the Aleuts on the beach. Their uneasiness only added to the rage that seethed inside him.

“Do you think what they said was true, Solovey?” one of the promyshleniki questioned.

“They are boasting,” Solovey asserted sternly, determined that fear and panic would not sweep through his company. “Perhaps they killed two or three Russians. But to wipe out the companies of five ships? Impossible!”

“Why would they claim they had?”

Solovey wondered himself what purpose it served for the Aleuts to confess to such heinous acts. “They are savages. You cannot believe their lies.”

“But what if it is true?”

“We will find out if it is,” Solovey stated.

When they reached his vessel, the story of the slaughter of Russians was instantly related to the other promyshleniki on board. Solovey tolerated the ensuing chaos of clamoring voices demanding answers and raising questions for only a short time.

“Silence!” he bellowed above the uproar and moved to stand in the center of the deck where all could see him. Gradually the din faded to an occasional mumble while he stared at each man in turn. His gaze stopped at the Cossack Korenev, who was assigned to the vessel as the government’s tribute collector. “Tomorrow, Korenev, you will take twenty men, all armed with muskets and pistols, and make a reconnaissance along the coast. See if you can find any evidence to support these wild claims of the Aleuts.”

The action established a degree of order and discipline among his company again. But like the promyshleniki, Solovey waited anxiously for the Cossack to return with his report. It was hard to believe that two hundred well-armed Russians could be slaughtered by a bunch of savages armed only with bows, arrows, and spears.

Everyone gathered on deck when the boat carrying Korenev and his men approached the vessel. Solovey met him as he climbed on board.

“What did you learn?”

“We came across only three native dwellings. All of them were vacant. I think the Aleuts took to the mountains when they saw us coming,” he answered.

Cowards, Solovey thought to himself. “Did you find anything that gave credence to their story?” he demanded.

The Cossack squared his shoulders. “We did recover some Russian clothing, two pistols, and a sword from the barabaras. I would have to say that some Russians had been killed by these savages in order for such items to fall into the hands of the Aleut.”

CHAPTER XIV

No one dared approach Andrei Tolstykh as he stood on the vessel’s aft deck. All avoided those ice-blue eyes that could look a hole right through a man and make his skin shiver. None of the promyshleniki spoke of the change in him since the Creole girl had run off with his newborn son less than a year ago—and certainly not within his hearing. While he remained clean-shaven and dressed with his customary care, Tolstykh was gaunt of cheek now, his eye sockets hollowed and dark and his lips pressed thin. His breath reeked with the smell of kvass, yet the potent brew never seemed to have an effect on him.

The few promyshleniki who were at the base camp that winter morning when Tolstykh discovered the girl was gone remembered the frenzied search of the island he’d conducted. The villagers had been rousted from their barabaras and their dwellings nearly torn apart when he failed to find her or his son among them. Many times they had described to their fellow hunters who’d been at the outlying stations the look on Tolstykh’s face when he was informed a baidar was missing and the girl’s Aleut brother was nowhere to be found in camp, how motionless he had become, how everyone had instinctively moved back a step, sensing his fury and wanting to be out of his path. But there were no words to describe the wrenching experience of watching a man about to go mad and the uneasiness that followed when he didn’t.

In the past months, Tolstykh had relentlessly scoured the island group where the promyshleniki hunted, going to every village and questioning all the natives, demanding otter skins or answers. The vessel’s cargo hold was filled with the former. One answer had sent their vessel on this easterly course instead of westward and home to Russia. A native had claimed the girl’s brother had twice visited a village on Unalaska Island.

Oblivious to the wind-driven raindrops that pelted his face, Andrei scanned the rain-blurred coastline of the large island marked by a multitude of fingered inlets and sweeping bays. Five Russian vessels were reportedly operating in this region, yet he’d seen none, and no structures on shore indicated the locations of outlying camps. The primal instinct that had directed him to this island grew stronger as they sailed past the entrance of a double-tine-shaped bay and rounded a shoulder of land. His son was somewhere on that island, and Andrei didn’t attempt to explain the certainty he felt, even to himself. If he had to tear the island apart rock by rock, he’d find Zachar.

Beyond the promontory of land, a wide bay sank its watery talons into the neck and shoulder of the island. Obeying the inner voice that spoke to him, Andrei ordered the vessel into the natural harbor, fully aware that they had bypassed several bays that could have provided an equally safe anchorage.

Another shitik sat at anchor in the calmer waters, its sails furled and its masts bare. At the sight of another vessel, the men stirred on deck. After three years they were tired of their own company, eager for the glimpse of a new face, maybe a familiar one, and anxious for any word from home. But Andrei’s interest was centered solely on the information he might be able to obtain that would lead him to his son.

With blankets hooding them against the rain, the sentries on the shitik’s deck eagerly hailed the
Andreian i Natalia
when it hove alongside their vessel and dropped anchor. Andrei didn’t answer their call; instead he studied the armed hunters and the makeshift defenses on deck. The Cossack Maxim Lazarev answered the hail. The sentries appeared disappointed to learn they were recently from Adak. They were under the command of Ivan Solovey, who was ashore with the main contingent of hunters, they said in response to Andrei’s subsequent demand to speak to their leader.

Impatient to speak with the man and get on with his search, Andrei ordered the yawl to be lowered over the side. “Go well armed,” one of the sentries advised. “There has been trouble.”

Two more sentries met the boat when it landed on the island, and escorted Andrei and his small party to the fortified camp. He sensed the edginess in camp, an edginess that became apparent when he entered the winter hut and the men inside visibly started at the opening of the door. Andrei recognized Ivan Solovey, although he knew the man mainly by his reputation at Okhotsk for gambling, drinking, and whoring away three years’ worth of fur profit in one.
“Soloviev”
was the Russian word for nightingale. There was nothing about this coarse, darkly bearded man that resembled the sweet-singing bird. It was said his men gave him the nickname Oushasnui Solovey, Terrible Nightingale.

“I am Andrei Nikolaivich Tolstykh, commanding the
Andreian i Natalia
.” Andrei made a small nod of his head that suggested a courtly bow. He was well aware his name was known to Solovey—and all who sailed from Okhotsk.

“Ivan Petrovich Solovey, commanding the
Sv Petr i Sv Pavel.
Welcome to Unalaska, Andrei Nikolaivich.” In a hearty, comradely fashion, he used both hands to clasp Andrei’s right hand and arm. “We had begun to think there were no other Russian vessels in the area.”

“I had heard there were five operating in this island group.”

Solovey suddenly appeared to become conscious of other ears in the room listening to their conversation. When he spoke again, his voice fairly boomed with good cheer. “What kind of host am I, letting you stand there all wet and cold?” He took Andrei’s cloak and tossed it to one of his men. “Come with me,” he told Andrei. “I have something that will warm your blood again.”

After signaling his men to remain behind, Andrei followed Solovey to the private room in the rear of the hut. There were no chairs to sit on, only a rope-strung cot and some wooden barrels. A samovar sat on one of them. Solovey closed the crude planked door, then walked over to the cot and removed a bottle of cheap brandy tucked inside the blanket.

“Have a seat.” Solovey gestured toward the barrels.

Andrei continued to stand. “I am sailing under the special protection of an imperial ukase granted by the Empress Elizabeth Petrovna—”

“Then you have been gone a considerable time, Andrei Nikolaivich.” Solovey poured equal portions of brandy into a pair of mugs, then laced the cheap liquor with hot water from the samovar. Turning, he offered one of the mugs to Andrei. “She died. Her nephew Peter succeeded her to the throne for a short time—a very short time. Now it is his wife, Catherine the Second, who rules Russia. It is said she intrigued to have him assassinated.” He lifted his mug in a mock salute. “It is a fool who trusts a woman.”

“Indeed,” Andrei murmured, staring at his cup, then lifting it to drink. It sickened him to think how besotted he had been with Tasha, how trusting. “Two hostages escaped from my protection. I have reason to suspect they fled here to Unalaska. I would appreciate any assistance you can provide to aid my search of the villages on this island.”

“I think you do not understand the situation here.” Solovey’s expression became hard and thoughtful. “I am not certain that I do.”

“One of your men mentioned there had been trouble.”

“It may be more serious than that.” Solovey glanced at the door, then lowered his voice. “The natives on the island have been bragging that they killed all the Russians who were here. The five vessels you spoke of? We have found none.”

“Perhaps they sailed for home,” Andrei suggested.

“Perhaps. And perhaps they were massacred, their bodies cut into pieces and thrown into the sea as the Aleuts claim—and the shitiks burned or sunk. I do know the natives have muskets and Russian clothing in their possession. And I do know we have been warned to leave—or suffer the same fate as our comrades.” Solovey drained the liquor from his mug and walked back to the bottle sitting by the samovar to refill it. “I doubted it in the beginning. But I have heard the same stories from more than one Aleut—some that I knew from previous voyages. With minor variations, they are all the same.” The hand holding the tin cup trembled. “They all related in great detail the way they slit the hamstrings of the Russians so they couldn’t run, then hacked them to pieces.”

“If what you suggest is true, several villages would have had to band together.” Andrei frowned.

“Yes.” Solovey looked him steadily in the eye. “Now they play with our minds, spread fear among my men. They promise to wait until winter when I divide my force into hunting parties, then they will ambush each one and kill us all—as they did the others. But they will not find us so easy to kill. So now it is my turn to ask you to aid me in avenging the deaths of our countrymen. We cannot allow their murders to go unpunished.”

The statement reminded Andrei of what he’d told Tasha the previous year—that a native must be punished for any crime against a Russian regardless of the provocation. He believed it now more strongly.

“It matters not whether there has actually been a massive uprising by the Aleuts,” Andrei stated. “Whether it is true or they are talking merely to build up courage for the deed, their voices must be silenced. We must crush this seed of rebellion before it spreads to other islands.”

“That is my thinking as well, Andrei Nikolaivich.” Solovey grinned as he picked up the brandy bottle and sloshed more of its contents into Andrei’s mug. “It is not enough for them to bow their heads to us. I want my foot on their neck.”

“Have you been able to determine the strength of the various villages on the island?”

“My priority has been to establish myself firmly on the island and instill order and discipline among my men.”

“Since the natives have shown such a willingness to talk, we must question them on the things we need to know.” If, as he suspected, Tasha and her brother had fled to this island with his child, their presence would be known by the Unalaskans. It would simplify his search and lessen the risk to his son if he knew where they were hiding.

By the time Andrei left to return to his vessel, the bottle of brandy was empty and the tales of the alleged massacre of more than two hundred Russians were on the lips of his men, as told to them by Solovey’s promyshleniki. Hearing the atrocities committed by the Aleuts made Andrei all the more determined to find his son and remove him from these savages.

After it became apparent to the Aleuts on Unalaska that Solovey had no intention of leaving the island, plans were formulated by the village elders and the war leaders to launch an attack against the Cossack encampment. Its location on an open stretch of land near the beach provided its defenders with a clear field of fire. There was no ground cover, no way to approach it without being seen, which meant they would be exposed to the superior firepower of the Cossacks. Unless, Walks Straight suggested, they waited for the thick fog that so frequently blanketed the island to launch their attack. It was agreed.