Arrived at Saratov, he showed his papers at the Revolutionary Committee, and then took a tugboat to Syzran, where the Czechoslovak front was.
The Volga was deserted, as in those half-legendary times when the cavalry of Genghis Khan had approached its sandy shores to water their steeds in the famous river.
Its mirrorlike expanse flowed endlessly and slowly between a framework of sandy banks, green water meadows and clumps of rose willow.
The infrequent villages seemed to be abandoned.
The unbroken steppe extended eastwards, appearing to dissolve in waves of heat, as in a mirage.
The reflections of clouds floated slowly by.
The silence was only broken by the fussy splashing of the paddle in the blue water.
Ivan Ilyich lay on the scorching deck beneath the captain's bridge.
He was bare-footed, and wore an unbelted cotton blouse; a blond fuzz was beginning to appear on his jaws.
Like a cat basking in the sunshine, he revelled in the quiet, the moist fragrance of swamp blossoms, the dry smell of steppe grass wafted from the low-lying banks, and the (boundless flood of light.
It was the most utter repose he had ever known.
The steamer was carrying firearms and munitions for the guerrillas in the steppe districts.
The Red Army men accompanying the cargo were sluggish from so much fresh air—some slept, some, having slept their fill, Jay about singing and gazing at the expanse of water.
Comrade Khvedin, a Black Sea sailor in command of the detachment, endeavoured, several times a day, to rouse the men to a sense of shame for their lack of class consciousness, but they only clustered round him in sitting and lying positions, their chins propped on their hands.
"Try to understand, brothers," he said in his husky-voice, "it's not Denikin, it's not Ataman Krasnov, it's not the Czechs we're fighting, it's the whole bloody bourgeoisie in both hemispheres.... The world bourgeoisie must be dealt a mortal blow before it has time finally to rally its own forces.... We R-r-r-ussians" (he pronounced the word proudly and with emphatic distinctness) "have our blood brothers—the world proletariat—on our side....
They are only waiting for one thing—for us to finish off our own parasites, and go to their help in the class struggle.... That needs no explanation, brothers.
There have never been braver men than the Russian soldiers in the whole world—excepting the seamen of the Red Fleet, so we have all the chances.
D'you see, my lads?
It's as simple as ABC, what I say.
There'll be a fight near Samara today, and soon there'll be fighting on all continents...."
The lads listened, hanging on his lips....
Someone remarked calmly:
"That's right... we've stirred up a hornet's nest... all over the world!"
The Khvalinsk mountains showed blue on the left.
Comrade Khvedin looked through his field glasses.
The sleepy town of Khvalinsk could now be made out through clumps of trees.
Here the steamer was to refuel.
The grizzled captain was standing by the man at the wheel.
The river formed three streams here, skirting islets of willow herb, and the fairway was a difficult one.
Khvedin approached the captain.
"Not a soul in sight in the town—what does it mean?"
"We must have oil, whatever happens."
"Go ahead then, take it."
The steamer, coming right up to an island, on which the branches of black poplars almost touched the paddle boxes, sounded its siren, and began turning.
Instantly frantic voices exclaimed from the island:
"Stop!
Stop!
Where are you going?"
Khvedin drew his revolver from its holster.
The crew retreated from the side of the boat.
The water seethed beneath the threshing paddle.
"Stop! Stop!" repeated the voices.
There was a rustling in the willow herb and some men made their way to the bank of the river, revealing flushed, agitated countenances, and waving wildly in the direction of the town.
There was such a din that it was impossible to make out anything.
Khvedin tried swearing at them—good, round, seamen's oaths.
But by then all had become clear.... Puffs of smoke were seen at the landing stage leading to the town, and shots rang out over the water.
Khvalinsk was occupied by the Whites.
The people on the island were the remnants of the escaping garrison and a part of the local guerrillas.
Some were armed, but none of them had any ammunition.
The Red Army men rushed to their cabins for rifles.