XVIII DIPLOMACY AND—MICE

In a previous chapter I mentioned Captain B——, a Russian serving in Semenoff’s forces, who had his room in the Hotel Select full of food. This officer, and his wife, a frail little woman who had been desperately ill and was still in the convalescent stage, became my closest friends in Chita.

Every afternoon at four I was in their room for tea, and Mrs. B——, who was an accomplished musician, played Russian operas and sang. The piano had been borrowed from the wife of a Russian doctor living in the hotel. Mrs. B——’s few sheets of music were all that were left to her from a large collection, after several encounters with Bolshevists, in which the most of her baggage had been stolen or confiscated. This couple had spent the previous year in flights from various cities. They had escaped from Odessa, from Ekaterinburg, from Irkutsk—from countless places. And many times they were in deadly peril.

Captain B—— belonged to the old Russian aristocracy. He had an estate in the Altai mountains, which had been destroyed by Bolshevists, and gold mines. He had a villa in Japan. He had travelled round the world many times, and knew Africa, for instance, like the palm of his hand. He referred casually to Lake Nyanza and Victoria Falls in the same matter-of-fact way that he mentioned his visit to Niagara Falls. He spoke nine languages. He had been attached to the Russian Consulate in New York for a long time. He spoke English fluently, and was a most delightful chap. His saber-hilt had the monogram of the Czar—he was close to the imperial family, without doubt, though he discreetly kept off the subject of his former associations with the court life.

Mrs. B—— came originally from Bessarabia, and had lived in Moscow. She spoke French well, and was learning English. I picked up considerable Russian at those teas, and Mrs. B—— practiced her English on me, her husband laughing gaily at her mistakes.

I remember one afternoon that the table cover had upon it embroidered butterflies. And while Mrs. B—— was serving my tea, I put my finger on one of these butterflies, and said, “Butterfly,” for the purpose of giving her the English of it. She looked at her husband in consternation after giving me a startled glance, and said something in Russian. He was busy opening a can of jam, and looked up in surprise at what she had said to him, for she was on the point of tears.

He smiled and asked me: “What was it you just said? I did not hear. My wife did not understand.”

“I said this was a butterfly,” I replied, pointing to the embroidery.

He dropped the can of jam and roared with laughter, at the time patting his wife’s hand.

It happened that the table cover was much the worse for wear, though of fine linen.

Captain B—— spoke in explanation to his wife, and she too laughed, and began to chatter merrily.

“My wife could not understand why you should mention the fact that the table cover is very old and no good,” said Captain B——. “The Russian word ‘butterclou’ means trashy, old and worn out—junk. And she thought you were referring to the table cloth as no good, when you put your finger on it and said ‘butterfly.’”

I made my apologies. And then I told of the American of our Committee on Public Information who arrived at Harbin at two in the morning, and, ordered the drosky-driver to take him to a hotel. The driver looked very surprised, but he drove away with the American, and they rolled through most of the streets of Harbin, up and down and all around for an hour.

The American noticed that the driver peered in at shop windows, and was in the mercantile part of the city, especially among the Chinese shops. He demanded in exasperation why the driver could not find a hotel, but all the poor driver could do was scratch his head and protest that he was doing his best.

Finally, they found somebody who could translate, and discovered that the American had not asked for a “gasteenitsah,” or hotel, but had told the driver that he wished some mustard, the Russian word for mustard being quite similar to the Russian word for hotel. The driver had been trying to find a grocery store open at that early hour.

This inability to grasp the meaning of a sentence from the circumstances despite a slight mispronunciation of the vital word in the sentence, I found to be typical among most Russians. Every word must be pronounced accurately, or the Russian is completely at sea for your meaning.

For several weeks I shocked waiters and waitresses in restaurants by asking for cakes with my tea. They regarded me with distrustful eyes, and plainly disapproved of me. I could not understand why when I asked for a provodnik with my tea, I never got one, but did get a frightened look.

The explanation is that the attendants were taken aback at the discovery that Americans are cannibals, despite all reports to the contrary. For a provodnik is not a cake, but the man who looks after the fires in a passenger car, and pretends to sweep the floor when you want to sleep. Naturally, they did not serve me a provodnik—neither did they give me a cake. I got my cake by going to the counter and pointing it out. Yet provodnik strikes me as a far better name for cake in Russian, than the word they use, which is proven by the fact that I can remember provodnik now, but forget entirely the word for cake.

I found that the British were not nearly so dependent upon interpreters as we were. They had officers who spoke Russian perfectly, some of them being Russian-born. This expert knowledge of the language may be due in part to the fact that England for a long time feared Russia. Some of Kipling’s early stories of garrison life in India express this mistrust for “the man who walks like a bear.” And, in fact, the Siberian peasant does walk like a bear, for his shambling gait, a great body slightly stooped, with long powerful arms at his side, he suggests Bruin amazingly.

Captain B—— was commandant of the Hotel Select, used as quarters by Semenoff’s officers and their families. His own room was down the hall from mine, past the dining-room being used as an officers’ mess, with German war-prisoners as waiters.

I returned to my room late one afternoon, and met Captain B—— going out. I spoke to him, and he scarcely replied. He had on his sheepskin coat and Cossack cap, and I noted at once that he was not wearing his saber. It was the first time I had seen him without it. He looked pale. There was another Cossack officer with him. I sensed something wrong at once. Nicholas Romanoff, the agent referred to before, was with me, and Captain B—— stepped aside and said something to Romanoff in Russian in a guarded tone, and then marched down the hall with the Cossack.

Romanoff’s manner was troubled. We went into my room without saying a word, and locked the door.

“What is up?” I demanded.

“Captain B—— has been arrested,” he said, sadly. “Arrested on order of the Ataman, who is down the railroad toward Harbin.”

“With what is he charged?” I asked.

“He does not know.”

Now to be arrested in Chita by order of the Ataman, especially while the Ataman is absent, at that time and under the prevailing conditions is no joke; and to be arrested without being charged with the offense for which the arrest is made, is dangerous; and to be one of Semenoff’s officers and be arrested, is doubly dangerous. Being arrested in such manner is quite likely to mean being shot within an hour. There was a good chance that while Romanoff and I stood there looking at each other we might hear a rifle volley.

It was no affair of mine. I could not prevent an execution. I had no way of knowing what had been discovered against Captain B——, if anything. It might be a private feud, it might be that Captain B—— had entirely too many Imperial rubles of big denominations in his trunk, as I well knew. It was quite possible that somebody in power had taken a fancy to Mrs. B—— and decided to eliminate her husband on a trumped up charge while the Ataman was away. And the Ataman might or might not have ordered the arrest—anything was possible in Chita.

Captain B—— was my friend. I made up my mind that not much time would pass before I called upon the Ataman’s staff, to ask as diplomatically as possible the reason for the arrest. Not that I expected to be told the truth, but I did intend to apprise Semenoff’s headquarters that I was aware of what had happened. And I did intend to imply that if an officer was executed summarily without evidence against him which justified such action, such summary action would be considered against Semenoff’s sense of justice as a military administrator.

Semenoff or Semenoff’s officers might shoot Captain B—— to satisfy some Cossack whim if they wished to, but if they did so they could not expect to have me regard them as people at all fit to exercise control over any people or part of Siberia, or to talk with me officially or unofficially.

I was determined that if Captain B—— was shot I would know why, and if disapproved, the relations existing between the United States and Ataman Semenoff as represented by me, would be broken off immediately, and that I would so report to my headquarters and if not upheld, request my relief from duty at Chita.

Knowing that Romanoff was close to the Ataman and his staff officers, I apprised Romanoff of my attitude very quickly, and told him to come with me to Mrs. B——.

We found her in tears, and frantically dressing for the street. She had not been out since she had recovered from a long illness, and the weather was extremely cold. She said that her husband had been arrested by order of a colonel who lived in the hotel across the street, and that she was going over to talk with him and demand the reason for the arrest.

I sent Romanoff with her, and again charged him to unofficially inform the colonel or anybody else concerned of my great interest in the case, and that I would expect a proper trial in case there was a legitimate charge against Captain B——. In other words, that the United States was watching, and that while there would be no interference, Cossack methods would be judged by this affair.

Romanoff and Mrs. B—— were gone more than an hour, and when they returned, Romanoff assured me that the colonel had promised to release Captain B——, but Mrs. B—— was still worried. She was well aware of the custom of shooting people first and making explanations afterward. Many innocent persons suffered by this custom. When a mistake was made, the official responsible generally shrugged his shoulders and asked if there were not plenty more people in the world.

The reason for the arrest was reported to be that Captain B—— had given a room in our hotel to an officer of Semenoff, when the officer showed an order signed by the Ataman that quarters should be provided. There was but one room in the hotel available—a room which had been occupied by the colonel who had ordered Captain B—— arrested. This colonel had not lived in the room for weeks, but had moved to the hotel across the street, leaving in his room in our hotel a small grip.

It was charged that the order for quarters was an old one, and that since it had been signed the officer had had trouble with the Ataman. But Captain B—— did not know this, and accepted the order for quarters for what it appeared to be on its face—still in force.

But the principal crime committed by Captain B—— was said to be having allowed the officer out of the good graces of the Ataman, to sleep in a room while the colonel’s bag remained in a closet. It may have been that the bag had been opened, or it may have been that the bag contained documents which would have caused the colonel trouble with the Ataman. But it all appeared to me as a fine piece of subterfuge, if the facts were as given. But one rarely gets the facts in Siberia.

Romanoff and I remained with Mrs. B—— through the evening, waiting. When she was not crying dolefully and wringing her hands, she was playing for us on her piano, stopping at times to listen to footsteps in the hall to see if they could be those of her husband, coming back.

Romanoff’s room was right across the hall, and he stepped out for a minute, leaving the B—— door open. While he was absent, Mrs. B—— stopped playing suddenly and listened. Then she cried out in terror and ran into the hall. I had heard nothing startling, and wondered what had caused her perturbation. She ran in again presently, crying “Meescha! Meescha!,” or so it sounded to me, and pointed to the corner of her room, where a large sack stood. It was a sack of sugar, and as I approached it, I heard a rustling.

I looked in and saw two mice and then held the top of the sack shut so they could not escape into the room. Finally I dragged the sack out into the hall, close to the open door of the officers’ mess-room. It was full of dining officers, and some of them looked out in surprise at seeing me dragging a heavy sack through the hall. I opened the sack and let the mice escape. They ran into the dining-room, but as no one had noticed them it did not matter. So I dragged the sack back to Mrs. B——’s room.

About ten o’clock Captain B—— came striding down the hall. I supposed the colonel had held him prisoner a few hours so as not to be too ready to show any regard for my attitude. And being in Asia, the colonel had to “save his face.”

Captain B—— wrung my hand, and I pushed him gently through the door to his wife. I went back to my own room, wondering if I had prevented an execution.