“You were right about being followed. A fishing boat came alongside and some impolite fellows tried to invite themselves on board. We had to teach them manners. One of your new crewmen was signaling them with a light until we put a knife in his heart.” He indicated a body lying on the deck.

“We gave our visitors a warm welcome,” another Cossack said, and his companions joined in the laughter. The guards picked the body up and threw it over the side. The captain was about to ask where the other stoker was. Too late.

The missing stoker announced his arrival with deadly force. Rifle fire cut short the Cossacks' mirth, and four men were mowed down as if by an invisible scythe. A round caught Yakelev in the chest, and the force slammed him against the bulkhead. He refused to go down and mustered the strength to push the captain out of the line of fire. The remaining Cossack dropped to his belly and crawled along the deck, firing as he went, but he was killed before he gained the protection of an air vent.

While the attacker was diverted, Tovrov and the major made their escape, but after a few steps, the major's knees buckled and his great body dropped to the deck, his tunic soaked in blood. He gestured toward the captain, who brought his ear close to the Cossack's mouth.

“See to the family,” he said in a wet, guttural voice.

“They must live.” His hand groped for Tovrov's jacket. “Remember. Without a tsar, Russia cannot exist.” He blinked in astonishment that he should be in such a position, and a soggy chuckle escaped his frothy lips. “Damn this ship. give me a horse any day....” The life went out of his fierce eye, his chin slumped forward and his fingers went limp.

Just then, the ship was rocked by a tremendous blast.

Crouching low, Tovrov ran to the rail and saw the fishing boat a hundred yards away. A bright flash from the muzzle of a deck gun, and a second shell slammed into the freighter.

The ship rocked violently.

A muffled thud came from below, as the fuel tanks caught fire, and burning fuel gushed from the tanks and spread in flaming sheets across the surface of the water. The second stoker decided to abandon ship. He ran across the deck, threw the rifle over the side, then he climbed onto the rail, leaped into a clear section of water and stroked for the fishing boat. He underestimated the speed of the spreading fuel, however. Within seconds, it caught up with him, and his screams were drowned out by the loud crackle of flames.