Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 January 1914 — Page 2

The Lighthouse of the North

An Audacious Hazard of Nikolai, Independent Agent, as Related by His Lieutenant, Summers v

Our little yacht cut'gaily through )the great waves that rolled in an uniceasing surge off the great North cape iof Norway. It was the end of September; the nights and days were equal, but a blue line on the horizon betokened the approach of the Arctic icepack that would soon descend to seal that silent coast until the following spring. Nothing could exceed the loneliness and desolation of the sea-scape;" not a sail or line of smoke was visible. Far on our starboard lay the Norwegian coast. There were six of us aboard with Nikolai. We were all consumed to know the reason for our presence in those cold waters, far from civilization. This was the day on which we were to be told. Nikolai assembled us on deck —we were all members of the international league—and broke the seal of a document , Then he read out the orders. “Satcha Alexandrovitch, with five other revolutionary patriots, is on his way to Archangel aboard the Potemkin,” he told us. Our mission was to rescue them. For these men had been the hope of Russia and of freedom through many stormy months; at last, treacherously betrayed to the minions of the tsar, , they had been, sentenced, after a mock trial, to perpetual banishment in the frozen wastes of northern Russia, where no man ever lived long enough to communicate with his friends again. It was a Sentence of death in the penal settlement there. , And on the following day the cruiser Potemkin would round the great cape on her journey into the White sea, the last before the closing in of the ice, bearing her victims. Afterward, Nikolai -communicated to me his plans, aB we sat side by side the cabin, studying the char&L- • . ' . . “Here we shall intercept her,” he said, pointing to a dot off the coast. —"And all her guns—and complex ment of soldiers and sailors will never save her.” He unfolded his scheme. "Here is the lighthouse,” he said. “Its light, burning steadily, alone makes possible a voyage between those rocks and shoals. We shall destroy the light; the ship, misled, will be buffeted to pieces upon the rocks. The prisoners have been warned. They will escape in the confusion.. Perhaps they will perish; but the chance is better than the certain death which awaits them.” It was a desperate undertaking, the little yacht against the armored battleship, but none of us thought of that. Our hearts were elated with the magnitude of our task. That night, running'in close along the rocky shore, we sighted the lighthouse. It was of the old-fashioned type. The lenses did not revolve, but a steady stream of light issued through them on three sides, shooting out like a warning finger far into the darkness. “We shall shoot out the glasses,” I said to Nikolai, “Perchance, if we shoot out the central lense, no light visible from a distance will issue. The Potemkin will sail to her destruction.” Nikolai smiled rather sadly. “We cannot approach that coast within two thousand yards,” he answered. “And, at that distance, no rifle bullet would penetrate those thick lenses. Moreover, at such a distance, who could hit a beam of light by night ■»—or even the lighthouse, by day, clothed, as it always is, with perpetual sea-fogs?” “What then?” I asked. “We must take it by storm,” he answered. 1 “It is guarded by three soldiers —veterans of the Imperial Guard. Russia leaves little to chance. It must be captured.” That night the lighthouse was to be rushed. There was no other way. At dark we took bur way in toward the shore cautiously by means of the lead; we anchored at a distance of a mile and a little more, and leaving two men aboard, the five of us remaining rowed cautiously through the rocks. More than once our little boat upset, leaving us clinging to the sharp, needle-pointed crags. But each time we recovered ourselves, by some fortuitous miracle. At length, dripping, frozen and utterly exhausted, we reached the rocks on which the great lighthouse stood. It towered above us, a veritable colossus of masonry; and from its summit the steady beams of light poured forth on three sides through the fogs. And now I perceived why my suggestion could not have been carried out. The lenses were set back into the masonry, so that no rifle bullet could have been aimed at them from the base of the cliffs. Onjy far out at sea w&uld they become accessible, and there, as Nikolai had said, they could not have been pierced. We had brought cutlasses and revolvers. At a word from Nikolai we crept cautiously across our slippery foothold until we reached the ironbound door at the base of the tower. Faintly wKhin we heard two watchmen singing a peasant song. “Now, men.” said Nikolai, “It will jbe useless to knock. Nobody will open

By H. M. EGBERT

(Copyright, 1913, by W. G. Chapman)

to the sea, for they know that no person could Borne here with anything but evil intent.” He picked up a huge bowlder, poising it aloft with ease. “Follow me!” he cried, and hurled himself with his burden against the door. That was the mightiest blow that ever I saw struck. It shivered the oaken timbers from bottom to top. Only the. iron bolts restrained the fragments of the door. A moment later and we had cleared away tion, just as two bearded giants stepped along the flags within and confronted us. “Yield!”' cried Nikolai in Russian, covering them with his revolver. They threw up their hands with alacrity. “Where is your companion?” Nikolai asked. “In the light chamber” they answered sullenly. We dashed pell-mell up the stone stairs. We came upon him as he descended; in a twinkling he was disarmed. The lighthouse was ours. It was the work of a few moments to pour out the oil and break -the lenses. ‘ l We should have kept those fellows prisoners,” said Nikolai. “Still, they can do no harm. They will not dare attack us, and there is nowhere for them to go. Now, men, back to the bout. We hurried down. As we ran we hei trd shouts beneath us—defiant, me eking, they seemed. When we retched the ruins of the door below th< dries came ..from the darkness, mi lgled with the pounding of the surf. NiUolai exclaimed aloud and ran on ale ue across the' slippery rocks. I hei ,rd him stumble and fall. Then cui ses came to us from without, and a lail of bullets whizzed past our eai s. At the same instapt we heard. oa! s grating against the rocks. ’ 'hen we understood. We had not the ught to guard our boat. The watchmen had taken it, and, knowing every inch of the coast, would doubtless run it away. Another hail of bullets made us dodge. Nikolai came limping back to me, his face convulsed with fury; “We’re trapped like rats”’ he said between his teeth. Then a thought struck him. “They must have a boat of their own,” he called. “Follow me!” He dashed across the rocks again, the rest of us after him, When we reached the other side we found the remains of a painter. The light-house keepers had taken their own boat as well. And, while we waited there, a sucession of five shots came from the darkness on this side also. We cowered back into the darkness. “One man in that boat,” said Nikolai. “Those shots are from his magazine. And two in the other. Now —are they acting in concert, ot does each think we are the other?” We were soon undeceived. As by a signal, a volley came from either side. Two of our men cried, stumbled, and sliding across the slippery weed, splashed into the sea. • The wind was rising, and all the while the breakers had been pounding upon the rocks. We shouted in vain; we could not make our voices heard above the uproar of the elements. Rain was falling, mingled with a light SnOW. s “Into the light-house, men,” cried Nikolai; and we reached cover, just as another volley flattened itself against the massive walls. We looked around us. In a tiny chamber was a heavy table, bolted into tbe stone. Nikolai set his shoulder against it and wrenched it bodily from its fastenings. Then we half dragged, half carried it along the narrow passage to the doorway, where we tilted it on end. It fitted the orifice well and .formed a barricade against surprise. But our condition was a desperate one. We had only our cutlasses and revolvers against rifles, and no more than twelve cartridges apiece. Yet we were three against three; and if our adversaries had command of the offensive there was always the yacht. As the attack was not renewed, we left the third on guard and descended into the bottom story of the lighthouse. Here we found a curious, winding passageway, cut out of the living rock, apparently, and opening into an extensive chamber, evidently the work of engineers. At the entrance we discovered ample provisions in the shape of flour and salted meat, as well ah dried fruits and a great tank of water, connecting with what j mus* have been a rain reservoir on ; the top of the light-house. As we approached the chamber in the rock a low moan reached my ears. “There are men in there!” I cried to Nikolai. - “Who are you?” he called. Only a moan answered. An oil lamp was burning in a niche of the damp wall. Nikolai snatched itup and, despite my warnings, advanced toward the dark recesses of the prison, I following. In the far nook we saw a sight that called forth a cry of pity from my companion. Stretched out upon a bed of filthy straw, his hands chained to steel staples in tbe wall, was an old man. emaciated, and apparently upon the verge of death. Beside him knelt a

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, INB.

woman, of mature years, but bearing the marks of great beauty and dignity, despite the prison pallor of her face. “In the name of God, who are you, friend?” asked Nikolai. “I am Adam Gortchakoff,” answered the old man, opening his eyes. I saw Nikolai start back and clap his hand to his forehead. “How long have you been confined here, Adam Gortchakoff?” he asked with a quavering voice. “Twelve years,” the old man answered. “And my daughter also.” “God help yon,” muttered Nikolai. Tears welled into his eyes. “Russia haß not forgotten you,” he said, raising the old man’s hand to his lips. “No# you, madame. But we thought you had died in Archangel.” * “There were twelve prisoners here when I arrived,” said the woman in French. “My father and I have alone survived.” She turned upon Nikolai fiercely. “Does Nicholas Starabuloff still work for Russia?” she asked. “He is still our hope and Russia's hope,” said Nikolai. Then, hastily, he began, telling them of the desperate chance (hat had let us hither. “Can youendure your chains for a few hours longer?” he asked. “We have endured them twelve years,” answered the woman; and she bent over her father and pressed a damp sponge to his lips. The sight was inexpressibly painful to me; for the first time I began to understand

"In the name of God. who are you?”

something of the hatred which inspired Nikolai against the tyranny of the tsar. But he could linger no longer. Bidding them a hasty farewell, and assuring them of their approaching liberty, Nikolai retreated up the stairs. Outside dawn was breaking. Our man was still on guard; the attack had not been renewed. “I dared not tell her that her lover is aboard the Potemkin,” said Nikolai to me. “Nicholas Stambuloff was captured and sentenced to Archangel; he is one of the six revolutionary leaders —otherwise known as Satcha Alexandrovitch. • We must and will restore him and his bride to liberty. And think —for twelve years they have not met.” “On guard!” cried our companion. We heard steps on the rocks; we drew our revolvers and waited. But, what was our astonishment when, through the mists, we Baw our t*vo companions of the yacht and the thfee Russian qpldiers conversing amicably together as they approached us. A short interrogation convinced Nikolai that the truce was a genuine one. We hurried down and, by the aid of a file which the soldiers gave us, had soon freed tbe prisoners from their bonds. Then, Beated together over a meal, explanations were offered and received. Jtappeared that the light-house was used as a secret penal station to which prisoners were sent who had been sentenced to the mines of Archangel. The secret had been well kept, and this explained why none of those Bent to the frozen north had ever been heard from. They were not there; the cruisers pat them invariably upon this desolate rock, where they remained in chains until death claimed them. The soldiers naturally thought

.. ! ~ * ( . that we had discovered the location Of their captives; thlß explained their desperate efforts to regain the lighthouse. They had abandoned the attempt, knowing of the death of two of our men, and had resolved to make by boat for the open sea. But they had. known .nothing of our yacht The men whom we had left there, seeing the soldiers advancing in theif boat through the fog, had believed them to be us; they themselves were not seen by the soldiers; who, in rowing, naturally had their toward the open sea. Thus the two parties ran into each other’s arm#. Cut off from the open sea, the soldiers had nowhere to escape; on the other hand, the men in the yacht, ahxious to learn our fate, opened a parley with them, being all Russians and from the same territory. In the end it was recognized that a truce must be effected until the fortune of war should decide for one side or the othek, This was satisfactory to the soldiers, but more so to us, who-knew of the approach of the Potemkin. “Fools that we were,” said Nikolai to me. “Had we known what we know now we should have let the Potemkin land her new captives here, concealing ouryaeht in the offing, £nd7 when she had departed, we should have taken them with us and sailed away. Now all is lost. The vessel will pound to pieces on the rocks and our captives will die with the crew. Or if they land, we shall encounter

the attack of a hundred desperate men. At all costs the Potemkin must be saved.” “We can save her yet,” I answered. “One lens is still unbroken. It was struck from the frame but not shattered. With this we can bring the vessel in safely.” “How?” asked Nikolai. I took him up into the light chamber. As I had said, one of the three great lenses had remained uninjured. Then I explained my plan. As Nikolai took it in he became greatly excited. He clapped me upon the shoulder and strode up and down the room, vowing that the bride should yet be restored to her husband, -from whose arms she had been snatched a short week after the "wedding, twelve years before. This was the scheme. The single lens, set into the central frame, would convey the light straight out to sea and afford a signal for the cruiser. The Potemkin would anchor in the offing, place the prisoners in a boat under a guard, and row them ashore. We should admit them, capture and disarm the gU&rd, and hold them in the vaults. The next party that came would meet a similar fate; and so all who arrived, for even if they suspected any danger, we could defend the light-house against a regiment, while the thick fog would render a bombardment impossible. -What would probably occur, however, would be that the ship’s officers, after the second party failed to return, would believe that both boats had been swamped in the breakers, and would take the ship back to Russia without further investigation. We raised the great lens into the Central frame. We refilled the oil lamp; and once more, though 'tm" either”'ST ”I*o side* Was darkness through the central aperture a great

searchlight shone straight out to sea. It was a little after midday when, through the thick mists that enfolded us, we heard the booming of guns. One, two, three —and silence. Then the signal was repeated. It was the Potemkin. We put our three friendly enemies down In the vaults, first exchanging clothes with them. They went readily enoiigh, when we had explained to them that their imprisonment was only'-temporary, until after the vessel’s /departure. Then three of us, dressed in the Russian uniform, with the two other men in the rear of us, waited for the arrival of the boat. It seemed an endless interval —it was really about" an hour before the ship’s boat grated against the rocks. She carried the six prisoners, chained, with six armed guards. Nikolai welcomed the sailors in their native tongue. They advanced, entirely unsuspecting. ... Then, in a trice, we had sprung on them and disarmed them. So sudden was our attack that they attempted no resistance; they stood staring at us, foolishly grinning. The prisoners were no whit less astonished. I did not admit Nicholas Stambuloff to see his bride, as Nikolai wanted. The shock would have been too sudden for both of them. We kept her below with her father; he still required her constant attention, although the hope of freedom had wonderfully fanned the flickering flame of life. But he would live ’now; he

would see freedom if never Russia again. We placed our new captives with the soldiers below and waited for the Becond boat. But no boat came. With the callousness of the Russian officer, the commander cared nothing for the fate of the crew. If they had perished on that dangerous coast, at least their captives, chained as they were, had died with them. That was all he cared about. At four o’clock we heard four guns fired in swift succession. It was the sign of departure, Excusing himself, Nikolai rushed up the stairs. I would have followed him, but he signed to me to wait below. "When he returned I could gather no information as to the reason of his departure. We brought our captives, now nine in number, up from the vaults. The situation had already been explained to the sailors by the three soldiers. We offered them a safe passage to England, our destination, whence they could readily ship aboard some* boat for the Baltic. As there was no alternative, our terms were eagerly accepted, and once more our enemies were converted into friends. I congratulated ourselves upon the termination of our adventure —bloodless, save for the death of our two men the night preceding. But when at last Nicholas Stambuloff understood the situation he turned upon Nikolai like a madman, At first his anger was incomprehensible to all of us. Nikolai, soothing hint as a child, told him that presently jte should meet some one whom he would be gald to see. “There is nobdy whom I would be glad to see,” raved Nicholas. “Do you know what you have done, you hound? | Listen, and I will tell you.

“Twelve years ago my bride, married a week to me, was snatched from my arms and carried off to a dungeon by the soldiers of Russia’s tyrant. I never saw her face from that day to this. After a mockery of a trial she was found guilty of conspiring against the tsar and Sentenced to Archangel. “I could have given myself up and received the same sentence. I could have been banished thither and have joined her there. And I refused. Do you know why I voluntarily cut myself off from sharing her exile? For Russia’s sake. For Russia’s sake, and because, while free, I could still fight for liberty, I hid from the soldiers, I worked in Russia for the cause. Every day I have hoped for capture; and every day I have worked like a mole in the dark to avoid it —for Russia’s sake. “And when at last the tsar laid hold of me and I was sentenced to Archangel, all my heart leaped up. I knew she was not dead. Had she died I should have felt and known it. I always knew that somewhere my wife lived, waiting for the day of reunion. And all through the voyage on the Potemkin, I was happier than I have ever been before, because I was going to her and should see her again! “And you, you fool, have ruined this! You have given me back my accused liberty, and once again I must return to Russia to fight for freedom.” Nikolai had signaled to me in the midst of this tirade and I had understood. I went into the yault and led the woman up the stairs. I think she Baw him first. Her face grew even paler than the prison pallor had bleached it Then a flush spread over her cheek and throat. I caught Nicholas by the arm and spun him around. At first he gazed at her with incredulous eyes; then he drew toward her, wonderingly. She held out her arm's. I turned and left them. On the next day we pulled out to the yacht and put our crew aboard. There was nothing but joy among ns all at the prospect of departure from those gloomy shores, for already winter was at hand and ice floes choked the sea. There was no time to be lost. We set off southward down the Norwegian coast toward a land of sunshine, I never saw a happier couple than Nicholas and his bride. Only one thing siddened me; bith announced their determination to return to Russia to take up the people’s battle. “It is right,” said Nikolai. “Thai is their only happiness in life. And some day through their efforts and those of their comrades, the land will find its peace again.” Upon the rocky shores lav the wreck of a mighty ship—an armored vessel. Trough the glasses I could make out the name Potemkin on the stern. She lay half submerged among the lapping waves. There was no signal, no sign of life on board. Had a man survived that sudden wreck he must have perished in the boisterous surf. Nikolai, standing by *my shoulder, smiled grimly. “Look at the light-house,” he answered, to my unspoken question. And then, looking backward, I saw no light. “Yes,” said Nikolai, “that is roy work,**" And then he told me what he had done in the tower on the preceding day. _ With his blood-thirst unsatisfied.’ he had crept up and shifted the great lens from the middle to the side compartment. The light, cut off from the open sea, now flared at an angle of ninety degrees, invisible from where we were, but clearly discernible round the arm of the coast. The captain of the Potemkin, ignorant that the direction of the light beam had been changed, had Bteered his course by it straight upon the rocks and perished there, with all his crew.

ENGLAND’S MANY RICH MEN

Income* Largely Derived From Invest ments Abroad, Which Reach an Enormous Total. England’s assessed income from abroad, as set forth in the income tax statistics last year, reached the immense total of 1520,000,000, which represents capital of nearly 113,000,000. These incomes are derived from foreign mines, gas works, water works, tramways, breweries, tea and coffee plantations, nitrate grounds, oil fields, land, financial, telegraph, cable, shipping . and insurance companies, branches of banks and mercantile companies, mortgages on property, loans and deposits abroad and profits of all kinds arising from business done abroad by manufacturers, 'merchants and commission agents. When it is realized how great is the capital invested by Englishmen abroad in these varied interprises the immense aggregate income, outside that included in the income tax statistics, can be imagined. According to the sanie statistics, there are 214 persons in the United Kingdom with an income of $275,000, which means that there are that many persons possessing a capital of about $6,000,000 each. But these are not the richest Englishmen. There are 66 with an income of $600,000 and over, 65 with an income of from $375,000 to $500,000, 37 with incomes of $325,000 to $375,000, and 56 with incomes of from $275,000 to $325,000. Furthermore, there are 4,143 persons with incomes of $60,000 and over, _ which means the possession of a capital of $1,000,000 and more. Consequently the total of persons in the country who possess at least $1,000,000 does net fall short of 4,751.

Each tray in an egg carrier invented by an lowa woman opens out at a different angle so that all the contents can' be examined at once. ‘ ‘ ■ - A