Timar's Two Worlds Part 13

Michael ran constantly into the cabin to see after Timea. She was still very feverish, and knew no one. But that did not discourage Timar: his idea was that whoever travels on the Danube has a whole chemist's shop at hand, for cold water cures all maladies. His whole system consisted in putting cold compresses on head and feet, and renewing them as soon as they got hot. Sailors had already learned this secret before Priessnitz the hydropath. The "St. Barbara" floated quietly all day up-stream along the Hungarian bank. The Servians soon made friends with the crew, helped them to row, and in return had a thieves' roast offered them from the galley.

The dead man lay out on the upper deck; they had spread a white sheet over him--that was his shroud. Toward evening Michael told his men that he would go and lie down for a spell--he had had no sleep for two nights; but that the vessel might as well go on being towed till it was quite dark, and then they could anchor. He had no sleep that night either. Instead of going into his own cabin, he stole quietly into Timea's, placed the night-lamp in a box, that its light might not disturb her, and sat the whole time by the sick girl's bed listening to her delirious fancies and renewing her compresses. He never shut his eyes. He heard plainly when the anchor went down and the ship was brought up; and then how the waves began to plash against the sides! The sailors tramped about the deck for some time, then one by one they turned in. But at midnight he heard a dull knocking. That sounds, thought he, like hammering in nails whose heads have been covered with cloth to m.u.f.fle the sound. Before long he heard a noise like the fall of some heavy object into the water, then all was still.

Michael remained awake, and waited till it was light and the vessel had started again. When they had been an hour on their way, he came out of the cabin. The girl slept quietly, the fever had ceased.

"Where is the coffin?" was the first question.

The Servians came up with a defiant air. "We loaded it with stones and threw it into the water, so that you might not bury it anywhere ash.o.r.e and bring bad luck on us."

"Rash men! what have you done? Do you know that I shall be arrested and have to render an account of my vanished pa.s.senger? They will accuse me of having put him out of the way. You must give me a certificate in which you acknowledge what you did. Which of you can write?"

Naturally, not one of them knew how to write.

"What! You, Berkics, and you, Jakerics, did you not help me to paint the letters on the coffin?"

Then they came out with a confession that each only knew how to write the one letter which he had painted on the lid, and that, only with the brush and not with a pen.

"Very well; then I shall take you on to Pancsova. There you can give evidence verbally to the colonel in my favor; he will find your tongues for you."

At this threat suddenly every one of them had learned to write; not only those two, but the others as well. They said they would rather give a certificate at once than be taken on to Pancsova. Michael fetched ink, pen, and paper, made one of these skillful scribes lie on his stomach on the deck, and dictated to him the deposition in which they all declared that, out of fear of hail-storms, they had thrown the body of Euthemio Trikaliss into the Danube while the crew slept, and without their knowledge or aid.

"Now, sign your names to it, and where each of you lives, so that you may be easily found if a commission of inquiry is sent to make a report."

One of the witnesses signed himself "Ira Karaka.s.salovics," living at "Gunerovacz," and the other "Nyegro Stiriapicz," living at "Medvelincz."

And now they took leave of each other with the most serious faces in the world, without either Michael or the four others allowing it to be seen what trouble it cost them not to laugh in each other's faces.

Michael then put them all ash.o.r.e.

Ali Tschorbadschi lay at the bottom of the Danube, where he had wished to be.

CHAPTER XII.

AN EXCELLENT JOKE.

In the morning when Timea awoke she felt no more of her illness; the strength of youth had won the victory. She dressed and came out of the cabin. When she saw Timar forward she went to him and asked, "Where is my father?"

"Fraulein, your father is dead."

Timea gazed at him with her great melancholy eyes; her face could hardly become paler than it was already. "And where have they put him?"

"Fraulein, your father rests at the bottom of the Danube."

Timea sat down by the bulwarks and looked silently into the water. She did not speak or weep; she only looked fixedly into the river.

Timar thought it would lighten her heart if he spoke words of consolation to her. "Fraulein, while you were ill and unconscious, G.o.d called your father suddenly to himself. I was beside him in his last hour. He spoke of you, and commissioned me to give you his last blessing. By his wish I am to take you to an old friend of his, with whom you are connected through your mother, who will adopt you and be a father to you. He has a pretty young daughter, a little older than you, who will be your sister. And all that is on board this vessel belongs to you by inheritance, left to you by your father. You will be rich; and think gratefully of the loving father who has cared for you so kindly."

Timar's throat swelled as he thought, "And who died to secure your liberty, and killed himself in order to endow you with the joys of life."

And then he looked with surprise into the girl's face. Timea had not changed a feature while he spoke, and no tear had fallen. Michael thought she was ashamed to cry before a stranger, and withdrew; but the maiden did not weep even when alone. Curious! when she saw the white cat drowned, how her tears flowed! and now, when told that her father lies below the water, not a drop falls.

Perhaps those who break out in tears at some small emotion brood silently over a deep grief?

It may be so. Timar had other things to do than to puzzle his head over psychological problems. The towers of Pancsova began to rise in the north, and down the stream came an imperial barge, straight for the "St.

Barbara," with eight armed Tschaikists, their captain, and a provost.

When they arrived they made fast to the side without waiting for permission, and sprung on deck. The captain approached Timar, who was waiting for him at the door of the cabin. "Are you in command of this vessel?"

"At your service."

"On board this ship, under the false name of Euthemio Trikaliss, there is a fugitive treasurer from Turkey--a pasha with stolen treasures."

"On board this vessel travels a Greek corn-merchant, of the name of Euthemio Trikaliss, not with stolen treasures but with purchased grain.

The vessel was searched at Orsova, and here are the certificates. This is the first; be so good as to read it, and see if all is not as I say.

I know nothing of any Turkish pasha."

"Where is he?"

"If he was a Greek, with Abraham; if a Turk, with Mohammed."

"What! is he dead, then?"

"Certainly he is. Here is the second paper, containing his will. He died of dysentery."

The officer read the doc.u.ment, and threw side glances at Timea, who still sat in the place where she had heard of her father's death. She understood nothing; the language was strange to her.

"My six sailors and the steersman are witnesses of his death."

"Well, that is unlucky for him, but not for us; if he is dead he must be buried. You will tell us where, and we shall have the body exhumed; we have a man who can recognize it, and prove the ident.i.ty of Trikaliss with Ali Tschorbadschi, and then we can at any rate lay an embargo on the stolen property. Where is he buried?"

"At the bottom of the Danube."

"Oh! this is too much. Why there?"

"Gently now. Here is the third paper, prepared by the Dean of Plesscovacz, in whose parish the decease of Trikaliss took place, and who not only refused him a consecrated burial, but forbid me to bring the body ash.o.r.e; the people insisted on our throwing it overboard."

The captain clinched his hand angrily on the hilt of his sword. "The devil! these confounded priests! Always the most trouble with them. But at any rate you can tell me where he was thrown into the river?"

"Let me tell you everything in proper order, Herr Captain. The Plesscovaer sent four watchmen on board, who were to prevent our landing the corpse; in the night, when we were all asleep, they threw the coffin, which they had loaded with stones, into the Danube without the knowledge of the crew. Here is the certificate delivered to me by the culprits; take it, search them out, take their evidence, and then let each have his well-merited punishment."

The captain stamped with his foot, and burst into angry laughter.

"Well, that is a fine story. The discovered fugitive dies, and can not be made responsible; the priest won't bury him, the peasants shove him into the water, and hand in a certificate signed with two names which no man ever possessed, and two places which never existed in this world.

The refugee disappears under the water of the Danube, and I can neither drag the whole Danube from Pancsova to Szendre, nor get hold of the two rogues, by name Karaka.s.salovics and Stiriapicz. If the ident.i.ty of the fugitive is not proved, I can not confiscate the cargo. You have done that very cleverly, skipper. Cleverly planned indeed! And everything in writing. One, two, three, four doc.u.ments. I bet if I wanted the baptismal certificate of that lady there, you would produce it."