Khvedin himself took the captain's place, sending such resounding oaths echoing down the river that the men on the island were immediately comforted, and smiles appeared on their faces.
In the heat of the moment Khvedin wanted to make an immediate frontal attack on the town from the river, and send a landing party ashore to deal with the enemy.
But Ivan Ilyich restrained him, convincing him with little difficulty that an unprepared attack must fail, that envelopment must first be carried out, and that Khvedin had no idea of the enemy's strength—perhaps they even had artillery!
Khvedin ground his teeth, but gave in.
The steamer backwatered with the current beneath rifle fire, and approached the island from the west, where the town was hidden by woods.
Here they moored.
The men on the island—there were about fifty of them, ragged and unkempt—came rushing down to the sandy bank.
"Listen to what we have to tell you, you devils!" they shouted.
"Zakharkin is corning to our aid, with the Pugachevsk guerilla fighters."
"We sent a messenger to him the day before yesterday."
They went on to relate how, three days ago, the local bourgeoisie had seized the building of the town Soviet and the postal and telegraph offices in an armed raid.
Officers had replaced their shoulder straps, fallen upon the arsenal, and seized machine guns.
Schoolboys, merchants, officials, had armed, even the deacon from the church ran up and down the street with a hunting rifle.
The coup had been completely unexpected, the Reds had not even had time to snatch up their rifles.
"Our commanders ran away—they betrayed us...."
"And we are running about like lost sheep."
"Oh, you!" exclaimed Khvedin, "you landtubbers!" It was all he could find to say.
They all gathered together on the riverbank for a military council.
Telegin was elected secretary.
First it had to be decided whether to take Khvalinsk out of the hands of the bourgeoisie, or not.
The decision was for taking it.
The next question was whether to wait for the Pugachevsk guerrillas, or to take the town with the forces at their disposal.
On this point there was much argument.
Some exclaimed that they ought to wait, since the guerrillas had machine guns, others that they ought not to wait, since any minute White steamships would be coming up from Samara.
Khvedin, sick of arguing, waved his hand impatiently.
"Enough jabbering, Comrades!
Passed unanimously: Khvalinsk to be ours by nightfall.
Draw up the minutes please, Comrade Telegin!"
Just then horsemen appeared on the cliffs of the left bank: first two, then four more. Seeing the steamer they galloped off.
In a short time the whole bank was covered with horsemen, and broad pikes made from scythes caught the sun's rays.
"Hi, there—who are you?" shouted the Khvalinsk people.
From the other bank came the reply:
"Zakharkin's detachment of the Pugachevsk Peasant Army."
Khvedin seized the megaphone and boomed out, the veins in his neck swelling:
"We've brought you arms, brothers—come over here to the island.... We're going to take Khvalinsk...."
From the other side came the cry:
"All right! We have a gun.... Send the steamer across for it."
The horsemen on the riverbank formed one of the detachments of the peasant guerrilla army fighting in the Samara steppe against those districts which had acknowledged the power of the Samara Provisional Government.
This army sprang up immediately after the occupation of Samara by the Czechs.
The town of Pugachevsk, formerly Nikolayevsk, became its organizational centre.
Hither came all the hotheads who loved riding for its own sake, all who had been confined to the peasants' narrow wedge of earth by the machinations of Shekhovalov, the well-known purchaser of land, all those endeavouring to hold land in the teeth of the rich Ural Cossacks, all those whose souls—born of the boundless steppe, where the wheat murmurs eternally, where the peasant, urging on the slow-stepping bullocks, follows the clumsy plough— brimmed over with emotions which refuse to be suppressed.
The enemy sprang up everywhere, like a mirage in the steppe.
A meeting would be called in the village—rich peasants, noncommissioned officers from the tsarist army, disguised agitators from Samara, cried loudly that it was an unheard-of thing for the poorest peasant, the day labourer, the landless vagabond to be allowed to rule the district, and take their land and grain away from well-to-do farmers.
And the meeting ruled that messengers should be sent to neighbouring villages, bidding them to make trenches.
A whole district would sometimes rise, bring weapons from secret hiding places, plough a furrow for a boundary line, and dig trenches dozens of miles long.
At some places a republic would be proclaimed, acknowledging Samara as its centre.
The defence of the territory was entrusted to the cavalry, the infantry only being mobilized when Red attacks were expected.
Scythes bound upright to long poles were made to serve as weapons for the cavalry.
These kulak armies were a real menace.
They appeared unexpectedly, out of the misty siteppe, falling upon the lines and machine guns of the Reds.