The Vagrant Duke | Page 6

others, they'll 'ave to be brisk
for we're sailin' in twenty minutes."
The matter-of-fact tones with which the unemotional Britisher made
this announcement restored the lost sense of humor of the Russian
refugee, and he broke into a grim laugh.
"An embarrassment of riches," remarked the Grand Duke.
"Riches," grunted the Captain, "in a manner of speak-* in', yes. Money
is not so plentiful. But jools! Good God! There must be half a ton of
diamonds, rubies and emeralds aboard. All they're got left most of 'em,
but complaints and narvousness. Give me a cargo of wheat and I'm
your man," growled the Captain. "It stays put and doesn't complain,"

and then turning to Peter--"Ye're not expectin' any r'yal suite aboard the
Phrygia, are ye?"
"No. A hammock for'rad will be good enough for me."
"That's the way I like to 'ear a man talk. Good God! As man to man, I
arsk you,--with Counts throwin' cigarette butts around an' princesses
cryin' all over my clean white decks an' all, what's a self-respectin'
skipper to do? But I 'ave my orders to fetch the odd lot to
Constantinople an' fetch 'em I will. Oh! They're odd--all right. Go
below, sir, an' 'ave a look at 'em."
But Peter Nicholaevitch shook his head. He had been doing a deal of
quiet thinking in those starry nights upon the Dnieper, and he had
worked out his problem alone.
"No, thanks," he said quietly, "if you don't mind, I think I'd rather
preserve my incognito."
"Incognito, is it? Oh, very well, suit yourself. And what will I be callin'
your Highness?"
"Peter Nichols," said the Grand Duke with a smile, "it's as good as any
other."
"Right you are, Peter Nichols. Lay for'rad and tell the bos'n to show
you up to my cabin."
So Peter Nichols went forward, avoiding the cargo aft, until within a
day's run of the Bosphorus when he found himself accosted by no less a
person than Prince Galitzin who had strolled out to get the morning air.
He tried to avoid the man but Galitzin planted himself firmly in his
path, scrutinizing him eagerly.
"You too, Highness!" he said with an accent of grieved surprise.
The Grand Duke regarded him in a moment of silence.
"It must be evident to you, Prince Galitzin, that I have some object in

remaining unknown."
"But, Your Highness, such a thing is unnecessary. Are we not all
dedicated to the same misfortunes? Misery loves company."
"You mean that it makes you less miserable to discover that I share
your fate?"
"Not precisely that. It is merely that if one holding your liberal views
cannot escape the holocaust that has suddenly fallen there is little hope
for the rest of us."
"No," said the Grand Duke shortly. "There is no hope, none at all, for
us or for Russia."
"Where are you going?"
"To America."
"But, your Highness, that is impossible. We shall all have asylum in
England until conditions change. You should go there with us. It will
lend influence to our mission."
"No."
"Why?"
"I am leaving Russia for the present. She is outcast. For, not content
with betraying others, she has betrayed herself."
"But what are you going to do?"
Peter Nicholaevitch smiled up at the sky and the fussy, fat, bejeweled
sycophant before him listened to him in amazement.
"Prince Galitzin," said the Grand Duke amusedly, "I am going to do
that which may bring the blush of shame to your brow or the sneer of
pity to your lips. I am going to fulfill the destiny provided for every
man with a pair of strong hands, and a willing spirit--I am going to

work."
The Prince stepped back a pace, his watery eyes snapping in
incomprehension.
"But your higher destiny--your great heritage as a Prince of the Royal
blood of Holy Russia."
"There is no Holy Russia, my friend, until she is born again. Russia is
worse than traitor, worse than liar, worse than murderer and thief. She
is a fool."
"All will come right in time. We go to England to wait."
"I have other plans."
"Then you will not join us? Princess Anastasie, my daughter, is here.
General Seminoff--"
"It is useless. I have made up my mind. Leave me, if you please."
Prince Galitzin disappeared quickly below to spread the information of
his discovery among the disconsolate refugees and it was not long
before it was known from one end of the Phrygia to the other that the
fellow who called himself Peter Nichols was none other than the Grand
Duke Peter Nicholaevitch, a cousin to his late Majesty Nicholas and a
Prince of the Royal blood. Peter Nichols sought the Captain in his
cabin, putting the whole case before him.
"H-m," chuckled the Captain, "Found ye