The Deluge. Vol. 2

A breach such as the culverin would make could not be filled with beams or earth. The prior foresaw with an eye full of sorrow the ruin which he could not prevent.

Monday the attack was begun anew, and the gigantic gun widened the breach. Various mishaps met the Swedes, however. About dusk that day a Swedish gunner killed on the spot Miller's sister's son, whom the general loved as though he had been his own, and intended to leave him all that he had, – beginning with his name and military reputation and ending with his fortune. But the heart of the old warrior blazed up with hatred all the more from this loss.

The wall at the northern bastion was so broken that preparations were made in the night for a hand-to-hand assault. That the infantry might approach the fortress with less danger, Miller commanded to throw up in the darkness a whole series of small redoubts, reaching the very slope. But the night was clear, and white light from the snow betrayed the movements of the enemy. The cannons of Yasna Gora scattered the men occupied in making those parapets formed of fascines, fences, baskets, and timbers.

At daybreak Charnyetski saw a siege machine which they had already rolled toward the walls. But the besieged broke it with cannon fire without difficulty; so many men were killed on that occasion that the day might have been called a day of victory for the besieged, had it not been for that great gun which shook the wall incessantly with irrestrainable power.

A thaw came on the following days, and such dense mists settled down that the fathers attributed them to the action of evil spirits. It was impossible to see either the machines of war, the erection of parapets, or the work of the siege. The Swedes came near the very walls of the cloister. In the evening Charnyetski, when the prior was making his usual round of the walls, took him by the side and said in a low voice, —

"Bad, revered father! Our wall will not hold out beyond a day."

"Perhaps these fogs will prevent them from firing," answered Kordetski; "and we meanwhile will repair the rents somehow."

"The fogs will not prevent the Swedes, for that gun once aimed may continue even in darkness the work of destruction; but here the ruins are falling and falling."

"In God and in the Most Holy Lady is our hope."

"True! But if we make a sortie? Even were we to lose men, if they could only spike that dragon of hell."

Just then some form looked dark in the fog, and Babinich appeared near the speakers.

"I saw that some one was speaking; but faces cannot be distinguished three yards away," said he. "Good evening, revered father! But of what is the conversation?"

"We are talking of that gun. Pan Charnyetski advises a sortie. These fogs are spread by Satan; I have commanded an exorcism."

"Dear father," said Pan Andrei, "since that gun has begun to shake the wall, I am thinking of it, and something keeps coming to my head. A sortie is of no use. But let us go to some room; there I will tell you my plans."

"Well," said the prior, "come to my cell."

Soon after they were sitting at a pine table in Kordetski's modest cell. Charnyetski and the priest were looking carefully into the youthful face of Babinich, who said, —

"A sortie is of no use in this case. They will see it and repulse it. Here one man must do the work."

"How is that?" asked Charnyetski.

"One man must go and burst that cannon with powder; and he can do it during such fogs. It is best that he go in disguise. There are jackets here like those worn by the enemy. As it will not be possible to do otherwise, he will slip in among the Swedes; but if at this side of the trench from which the gun is projecting there are no soldiers, that will be better still."

"For God's sake! what will the man do?"

"It is only necessary to put a box of powder into the mouth of the gun, with a hanging fuse and a thread to be ignited. When the powder explodes, the gun – devil I wanted to say – will burst."

"Oh, my son! what do you say? Is it little powder that they thrust into it every day, and it does not burst?"

Kmita laughed, and kissed the priest on the sleeve of his habit. "Beloved father, there is a great heart in you, heroic and holy – "

"Give peace now!" answered the prior.

"And holy," repeated Kmita; "but you do not understand cannon. It is one thing when powder bursts in the butt of the cannon, for then it casts forth the ball and the force flies out forward, but another if you stop the mouth of a gun with powder and ignite it, – no cannon can stand such a trial. Ask Pan Charnyetski. The same thing will take place if you fill the mouth of a cannon with snow and fire it; the piece will burst. Such is the villanous power of powder. What will it be when a whole box of it explodes at the mouth? Ask Pan Charnyetski."

"That is true. These are no secrets for soldiers," answered Charnyetski.

"You see if this gun is burst," continued Kmita, "all the rest are a joke."

"This seems impossible to me," said Kordetski; "for, first, who will undertake to do it?"

"A certain poor fellow," said Kmita; "but he is resolute, his name is Babinich."

"You!" cried the priest and Charnyetski together.

"Ai, father, benefactor! I was with you at confession, and acknowledged all my deeds in sincerity; among them were deeds not worse than the one I am now planning; how can you doubt that I will undertake it? Do you not know me?"

"He is a hero, a knight above knights," cried Charnyetski. And seizing Kmita by the neck, he continued: "Let me kiss you for the wish alone; give me your mouth."

"Show me another remedy, and I will not go," said Kmita; "but it seems to me that I shall manage this matter somehow. Remember that I speak German as if I had been dealing in staves, wainscots, and wall plank in Dantzig. That means much, for if I am disguised they will not easily discover that I am not of their camp. But I think that no one is standing before the mouth of the cannon; for it is not safe there, and I think that I shall do the work before they can see me."

"Pan Charnyetski, what do you think of this?" asked the prior, quickly.

"Out of one hundred men one might return from such an undertaking; but audaces fortuna juvat [fortune favors the bold]."

"I have been in hotter places than this," said Kmita: "nothing will happen to me, for such is my fortune. Ai, beloved father, and what a difference! Ere now to exhibit myself, and for vainglory, I crawled into danger; but this undertaking is for the Most Holy Lady. Even should I have to lay down my head, which I do not foresee, say yourself could a more praiseworthy death be wished to any man than down there in this cause?"

The priest was long silent, and then said at last, —

"I should try to restrain you with persuasion, with prayers and imploring, if you wished to go for mere glory; but you are right: this is a question affecting the honor of the Most Holy Lady, this sacred place, the whole country! And you, my son, whether you return safely or win the palm of glory, you will gain the supreme happiness, – salvation. Against my heart then I say, Go; I do not detain you. Our prayers, the protection of God, will go with you."

"In such company I shall go boldly and perish with joy."

"But return, soldier of God, return safely; for you are loved with sincerity here. May Saint Raphael attend you and bring you back, cherished son, my dear child!"

"Then I will begin preparations at once," said Pan Andrei, joyfully pressing the priest. "I will dress in Swedish fashion with a jacket and wide-legged boots. I will fill in the powder, and do you, father, stop the exorcisms for this night; fog is needful to the Swedes, but also to me."

"And do you not wish to confess before starting?"

"Of course, without that I should not go; for the devil would have approach to me."

"Then begin with confession."

Charnyetski went out of the cell, and Kmita knell down near the priest and purged himself of his sins. Then, gladsome as a bird, he began to make preparations.

An hour or two later, in the deep night, he knocked again at the prior's cell, where Pan Charnyetski also was waiting.

The two scarcely knew Pan Andrei, so good a Swede had he made himself. He had twirled his mustaches to his eyes and brushed them out at the ends; he had put his hat on one side of his head, and looked precisely like some cavalry officer of noted family.

"As God lives, one would draw a sabre at sight of him," said Charnyetski.

"Put the light at a distance," said Kmita; "I will show you something."

When Father Kordetski had put the light aside quickly, Pan Andrei placed on a table a roll, a foot and a half long and as thick as the arm of a sturdy man, sewn up in pitched linen and filled firmly with powder. From one end of it was hanging a long string made of tow steeped in sulphur.