The voices in the large room stilled, the clerk stood, then the spectators. Baron Zinnovy, resplendent in a magnificent uniform, entered and seated himself behind the desk. “Proceed with the trial,” he said. The clerk stood, then cleared his throat. The crowd leaned forward, the better to hear. “The prisoner will stand!”
Jean LaBarge got to his feet, the chains clanking in the silent room. “You, Jean LaBarge, are accused: you are accused of illegal trading with Tlingit people in Russian territory; “You are accused of refusing to obey a command to heave-to given by a patrol ship of His Imperial Majesty;
“You. are accused of evading capture;
“You are accused of firing on the patrol ship Lena while it was in the service of His Imperial Majesty;
“You are accused of firing upon and killing three members of the crew of His Imperial Majesty’s ship, Lena;
“You are accused of the theft of furs belonging to the Russian American Cpmpany;
“You are accused of resisting capture …”
The clerk’s monotonous voice rolled on with the long list of accusations, some carrying at least a grain of truth, most completely false, yet the voice droned on and on.
Behind the judge’s desk Baron Zinnovy filled his pipe and considered the clerk a dull stick and a fool, but it was something that must be done. Zinnovy stifled a yawn. It was warm in the overcrowded room. He had expected this to be a triumph, but LaBarge showed no weakening, no fear as yet. The whole affair was a confounded bore. He should have shot the man when captured, then he could have saved himself this.
Helena listened, her eyes half-closed against the sight she dreaded, against the heaviness of the room and the heat of the crowded, bodies. From such an array of charges there could be no.appeal, no hope of escape. The droning voice ended. There was silence in the room.
From the back of the crowd a voice said, “It’s a pack o’ lies!” Baron Zinnovy did not lift his voice. “Arrest that man,” he said, then turned his heavy-lidded eyes on LaBarge.
“Has the prisoner any statement to make before sentence is passed?” There had been a knothole, long ago, through which came the first gray light of morning. It had been a long, long night but he had never doubted that help would come because his friend Rob Walker had gone for help, and Rob would not fail him. There was a knothole here, high near the eaves of the building, and a ray of light fell through it, too. He stared at it, remembering that morning so long ago. He began to smile.
Behind his desk Zinnovy’s eyes tightened a little and a line appeared between them. Why was the fool smiling? Had he gone insane? Could he not realize what sentence would mean? That there was no appeal? LaBarge got slowly to his feet. “You ask for a statement.” He spoke in a dull heavy voice that gained in strength as he spoke. “Whatever I might say in denial of your false accusations would be ignored. To some of the charges I admit my guilt.” He smiled broadly. “I admit to buying furs from the Tlingit and paying honest prices; I admit to evading the patrol ship because it was absurdly easy to do; but—“ His eyes strayed to the beam of light from the knothole near the eaves… Puzzled by LaBarge’s expression, Zinnovy followed the line of his gaze to the knothole, puzzled even more when he realized at what LaBarge was staring. Suddenly, Jean knew he was going to take a chance, a daring chance, but one through which he could lose nothing.
“I admit the truth of some of the statements,” he repeated, “but I deny they are crimes, Baron Zinnovy, I deny your right, as a Russian official, to conduct a trial on the territory of the United States!”
“What!” Zinnovy came half out of his chair. “What nonsense is this?” “People of Sitka!” LaBarge turned suddenly to face the crowd. “You stand now on the free soil of the United States of America! The treaty of purchase has been ratified and signed by the Czar, and this territory now belongs to the United States of America, and the Czar has proclaimed an amnesty, freeing all prisoners at present held in Sitka!”
The audience rose to their feet, cheering. Zinnovy was shouting, his face swollen with anger. Soldiers ran along the aisles, threatening the crowd. Slowly they subsided. Jean LaBarge remained on his feet, his heart pounding heavily. He had attempted a colossal bluff and now he must carry it through. There were American ships in the outer harbor, and those ships had given him the idea. He knew that shipping men have a nose for developments, and that coupled with his great faith in his friend inspired him to the gamble. The room was quiet and Zinnovy straightened in his chair. “Prisoner, I sentence—“ “You are without jurisdiction, Baron Zinnovy.” Jean’s voice was calm, but it carried to every corner of the room. “Sitka is now a territory of the United States and if sentence is carried out on me, you will yourself be liable to prosecution under the laws of the United States.” Zinnovy hesitated. He was trembling with fury, but he was never an incautious man, and now a beam of cool sanity penetrated his rage. LaBarge was too positive, too sure. If the sale had gone through, and especially if the money was not yet paid, and he passed sentence on an American citizen, he was buying himself a ticket to Siberia from which even his friends could not save him. And the Princess Helena was right here to report every detail, so he could never deny he did not know.
The room was filled with excited whispering; he was enraged to see with what excitement the news had been greeted. Here and there was a solemn face, but all too many had been made happy. Some of the smiles were from loyal Russians who were pleased to see him thwarted. This was nonsense … merely an attempt by LaBarge to delay sentence … yet, suppose it were true? The thought was an unpleasant one; he knew even his powerful friends would sacrifice him if it became necessary … but how would a prisoner know if such a treaty had been ratified?
Even as he denied the possibility he answered the question himself. It was with prisoners as with the army: many times they knew things in the rank and file before the colonels of regiments knew. It was the grapevine, that word of mouth telegraph that could not be shut off or stopped. Perhaps—
“Sentence will be passed tomorrow afternoon,” he commanded abruptly, rising to his feet. “Return the prisoner to his cell.”
37
When he awakened it was night. Returned to his cell he had fallen across his bunk and slept like a man drugged, but he now lay wide awake, listening to the night sounds, for his was the hunter’s brain, always tuned to the little sounds, the creeping sounds. He got up and walked to the narrow window. Out there were the stars, the same he had watched long ago from the Great Swamp. Was he a fool to trust in a man so far away? Outside a night bird called, and a wind talked gently among the pines and whispered of far-off mountains, a wind that came from distant glaciers, caressed the restless waters and blew into his small window.
There was a rustle in the corridor, a rustle of movement. He turned quickly, knowing that sound. A key grated in the lock and the door opened, and in the instant before it swung wide he caught a whiff of perfume. “Jean? … Jean!”
She was in his arms then and they clung to each other, clung with a strength that hurt. “Jean! Oh, Jean! I’ve been so frightened!” Helena drew back suddenly, the guard was still in the door, but he had politely turned his back. “Jean, is it true? Has the United States bought Sitka?” “Helena”—he spoke softly so the guard would not hear—“I don’t know anything more than you. It was a bluff.
“Of course,” he added, “I know Rob. I know he has made this thing go through if anyone could, and when I saw those American ships out there, just lying there waiting … well, what could I lose?”
She hesitated, fearing to tell him. “Jean, Rob Walker has been writing to me, and they have tried everything to find you and free you. It was because of that that I am here, but at the last minute it all came to nothing. The treaty was not ratified.”
He shook his head stubbornly. “I can’t believe that. If the treaty was written, if a price was agreed upon, then Walker would get out the vote. No, Helena, if that treaty was written and submitted to the Senate it was ratified.” “But it wasn’t, Jean! You mustn’t depend on that! You must escape!” “No. I think Zinnovy wants me to attempt an escape …. if I do I’ll be shot and his problem is solved. Don’t you realize he would expect you to see me? That he might deliberately make it easy believing you would bring me something, a weapon? No, I’ll stay. If Count Rotcheff can help, then—“ “Jean?” Her throat found difficulty with the words. “Jean, Alexander has been dead for nearly a year. He died before I returned to Sitka.” “Dead?” The word did not make sense. If he was dead then she was free … free. Free … they could be together. They could belong to each other. Nothing would stand between them. Only tomorrow he would be returned to Siberia … or hanged. The improvised courtroom was jammed. The clerk took his place. Opposite Jean, Helena sat where her eyes could see his, and beside her were Prince and Princess Maksoutof. The crowd was large, and contained many familiar faces. His eyes stopped a full second.