In the time of Catherine II. a baron of the Von Ungern family, in the province of Brandenburg, migrated to the court of St. Petersburg. He had some Slavonic blood in his veins, and shortly after settling in the Russian capital he married the daughter of a Muscovite nobleman. His wife's dowry brought him several extensive estates in Volhynia. In spite of their German name his two sons were perfect Russians. The elder, Feodor, was a naval officer. He was a thorough seaman, and the terror of every Swedish seaport and merchantman. Zeno, the younger brother, was also a seaman, but his tactical abilities were exercised only at court, and particularly among the ladies. The fame of the elder brother naturally lent brilliancy to Zeno's name also. Feodor, however, willingly left to him all the pleasures of court life and all its dazzling distinctions. Such things were not for him. The storm-tossed sea and its perilous combats were for Feodor his chiefest joy. Yet, when storm and fight alike were lulled to rest, he loved his quiet home—a little castle buried in an old forest, where his dear and beautiful wife dwelt with her little son. The boy, whose name was Alexander, was now four years old, and the father was not less proud of his domestic fortune than of his naval laurels.

Feodor had just accomplished one of his most heroic exploits against the Swedes. One stormy night he had suddenly surprised the convoy fleet at Karlskrona and burnt a large portion of it. He had captured several richly laden merchant-ships which tried hard to get out of range, plundered them of their most valuable contents, and then sent them to the bottom. He had also carried off the magnificent bell which had been taken by the Swedes from Hamburg city, and was then on its way to adorn the cathedral of Kalmar. Then he returned, unmolested, with booty and fame to Kronstadt.

Upon arriving there he considered it his first duty to deliver an account of his actions to the Admiral of the fleet. At that time the shore at Kronstadt was covered with a great number of small huts inhabited by the workmen in the port. As Captain Feodor leaped ashore from his boat, a girl, who had been watching the spot for some time, came out of one of the huts and approached him. The girl was young and pretty, and was dressed in the picturesque costume of the Volhynian women. She hurried up to the officer and seized his hand to kiss it. He recognised her immediately as his little son's nurse.

"What!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Mashinka! Why, what brings you here?"

The girl raised her finger to her lips and glanced timorously round about. Only when she had assured herself that there was no one listening did she begin to speak.

"Oh, my Master!" she exclaimed in a low tone; "have a care! Muffle yourself in your cloak! If you are recognised here you will certainly be taken!"

"Taken!" cried the Captain. "What foolishness is this, Mashinka? Why should any one wish to take me, think you?"

"Why!" echoed the girl. "To make you dig for lead in the Urals, most likely. You are an outlaw!"

"Are you raving, woman?" asked Feodor. "What crime have I committed?"

"That you will soon learn," replied Mashinka. "Last winter did you not shelter Krazinski in your house?"

"Krazinski! Why, he was a dear friend of mine—a brother-in-arms of the old days."

"That may be. But now they say he is a conspirator."

"But what is that to me? I knew nothing of that then. He came to the castle for the hunting, and after having had as much of that as he wanted he went off again. But I see I had better go off to the Court at once and tell them all about the matter."

"Nay, Master; go not there!" whispered the girl imploringly. "There you have a most powerful enemy whom your death alone will pacify."

"An enemy! Who is he?" asked Feodor in surprise.

"Your brother," replied Mashinka.

"What! Zeno?—he whom I loved so much that I made over to him my inheritance and even the title of Count as well, reserving only a minor's portion for myself?""Ay; and now he means to have that portion also," said Mashinka. "He has seized your castle in the forest; and even that seaman's whistle at your breast—he has already been promised that."

"Well, well! Fool that I am!" muttered Feodor. "Was he not all his life a miserable cur? After all, it is not to be wondered at. But what can he know of Krazinski?"

"This much—that Krazinski, in leaving, forgot to take with him a certain leather writing-case, and that it contained many dangerous papers."

"But I myself delivered that case to my wife, in order that she might take charge of it until Krazinski should demand it. She was to give it up to no one else."

"And yet, she has given it up to your brother. And because of that you have been outlawed."

"My wife!" exclaimed Captain Feodor, turning pale.

"She only was your wife. Now she is your brother's. Whoever is banished for life to the Ural mines is at the same time separated for ever from his wife, and she can at once marry again. That is how it happened. You were too long gone, and love in absence, they say, is difficult."

"But she had her son!" cried the Captain in a tone of agony. "Was not he enough to love? And such a son, too! Tell me, what have they done with my son?"

"You know well the custom, surely? When the father is banished the child is outlawed also. Son must follow father, and in order that he may never return, he is branded with a red-hot iron on the shoulder."

The Captain seemed about to reply, but the words died away upon his lips.

Suddenly he seized the girl's shoulders in his powerful grasp, and began to stare intently into her eyes. For it is a common belief in Volhynia that there are many unhappy mortals possessed by the Evil One in such a way that he takes up his abode in their eyeballs. Then, by means of all manner of phantoms and illusions, he causes them to "see the things that are not." About such sights the victims talk as if they were perfectly real. But it is believed that if a truly brave and upright man who fears not the Evil One seizes the possessed person firmly by the shoulders, gazes unflinchingly into the bewitched eyes until he perceives the demon lurking within, and then quickly and unexpectedly spits into them—then the Evil Spirit is confounded and flies in confusion from the possessed one's eyes. Thus did Captain Feodor.

"Ah, yes! It may be—it may, indeed, be so," said the girl resignedly, as she wiped her eyes with the hem of her apron. "Often have I asked myself whether all I have seen and heard is not merely falsehood and deceit. It may be all the devil's work. Oh, would to God it were so! I would bless you every day of my life for driving the curse out of me. But, Master, I beseech you, cross the threshold of that hut and look within. If you see nothing, then the Evil One has indeed been at his juggling tricks with me, making me see and speak the things that are not."

Feodor stepped into the tumble-down hut to which Mashinka had pointed. The first thing that met his gaze was his little son lying on a heap of dirty straw. The little shirt had slipped down over one shoulder, and upon this the mark of the branding-iron was clearly seen. Feodor knelt down, buried his face in the straw beside the boy, and clasped him in his arms. But he uttered no cry and shed no tear.

"Why, my good Master," said the girl, "surely you, too, have become possessed, and see things that do not exist."

Meantime the child did not cry. He trembled violently; for fear, and pain, and fever were working together. The father wrapped him in his cloak, and laid him tenderly across his knees.

"Now listen," said Mashinka, "to all that the Evil One must have put into my eyes and ears, if, indeed, it is all nothing but his black magic. Your own steward had orders to bring all your treasure in a great iron chest along with the child to Tsarskoye Selo. Your brother and your wife were already in St. Petersburg—together. The treasure was to be divided among I know not how many of the high court officials. Your wife, of course, fell to the informer's portion, and the child was sent off later in order to be transported to the Urals along with you. As the boy begged most piteously for me I was allowed to travel along with him. He cried during the whole journey with the pain caused by the branding-iron. At last the steward could no longer bear his constant moaning in the carriage, and ordered me to get down and gather some poppy-heads in the field, so that I might make an infusion of them and put the child to sleep. So I gathered a great many poppy-heads and made them into a good strong tea at our next stopping-place. But I did not give it to the boy to drink. I mixed it among the brandy which the steward, the driver, and the Cossacks were drinking, and it was not long before their heads were nodding under it.

"I then took the keys of the iron chest from the steward's pocket, flung him out of the troÏka and the driver after him, seized the reins and drove off with the boy. But when the Cossacks had become a little sober they came galloping after us. When I saw that we must soon be overtaken, I opened the treasure-chest took out great handfuls of gold and silver, and flung them on the road. Of course, they could not let stuff of that kind lie, and by the time they had scraped it all together we were far away over hill and dale. On reaching the forest of Pleskov the middle horse became lame, and I saw that I could not hope to save both the money and the child. I should have had to sacrifice either one or other. So I told the boy to clasp me tightly round the neck, and away we fled together across the steppe. I had previously turned the horses loose with the troÏka. No doubt the Cossacks overtook the carriage with all the treasure. But I brought the child here through the forests and across the moors, for I knew that you would land here when you returned from the sea. But you are not angry with me, Master, for bringing only the boy with me instead of all the gold?"

As yet not a tear had risen to the rugged seaman's eyes. He sat staring with frenzied look at the cruel brand upon his son's shoulder. But suddenly, as Mashinka finished speaking, a flood of hot tears burst from the father's eyes. He wiped them away. The white handkerchief was stained with crimson spots. He held it up before the girl's eyes.

"Remember!" he exclaimed in hollow tones, "once in your life you saw a man weep tears of blood."

"Now," he added sternly, after a pause, "take the boy in your arms and follow me."

"But whither are you going, Master?" asked the girl.

"Back again to the sea."

When Captain Von Ungern, with his child and Mashinka, regained the deck of his vessel, the Gladova Strela, he found the plenipotentiary of the Admiralty already on board. That official was charged with the ukase depriving Feodor of his rank, and appointing his brother Zeno to the post of frigate-captain in his place. The crew were looking on in gloomy silence, ready for any turn which events might take.

"Throw both ukase and messenger into the sea!" shouted Feodor.

The order was exactly to the mind of the crew, and right promptly did they execute it.

"And now," he called out, "which of you will come with me wherever I may go?"

"We will all go with you against Hell itself!" shouted the men.

"Nay, my men; against the powers of Hell we will never fight, but only against those of Heaven and Earth. Henceforth we will league ourselves with all the fiends of Darkness and the Storm!"

The weather was tempestuous and the sea was running high. Not until the following day did the Admiralty decide to pursue the vessel which had vanished so suddenly in full sail. It was then too late to overtake her.

It was shortly afterwards that the sad news reached St. Petersburg that the fugitive vessel had run upon the rocks of Dago. Her mainmast and bowsprit were all that was ever picked up, so it was plain to all men that the Gladova Strela, with her fifty men and seven guns, had gone to the bottom. So after all, men said, things had perhaps happened as they ought. At all events, the name of Captain Feodor Von Ungern was utterly forgotten.