The steward said he would
inquire, and finally returned with a sharpening stone used for the
knives in the galley. Bolting his door, Lermontoff began an
experiment, and at once forgot he was a prisoner. He filled the
wash-basin with water, and opening one of the glass-stoppered bottles,
took out with the point of his knife a most minute portion of the
substance within, which he dissolved in the water with no apparent
effect. Standing the whetstone up on end, he filled the glass syringe,
and directed a fine, vaporous spray against the stone. It dissolved
before his eyes as a sand castle on the shore dissolves at the touch
of an incoming tide.
"By St. Peter of Russia!" he cried, "I've got it at last! I must write
to Katherine about this."
Summoning the steward again to take away this fluid, and bring him
another pailful of fresh water, Lermontoff endeavored to extract some
information from the deferential young man.
"Have you ever been in Stockholm?"
"No, Excellency."
"Or in any of the German ports?"
"No, Excellency."
"Do you know where we are making for now?"
"No, Excellency."
"Nor when we shall reach our destination?"
"No, Excellency."
"You have some prisoners aboard?"
"Three drunken sailors, Excellency."
"Yes, that's what the Captain said. But if it meant death for a sailor
to be drunk, the commerce of the world would speedily stop."
"This is a government steamer, Excellency, and if a sailor here
disobeys orders he is guilty of mutiny.
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