THE BOY NIHILIST,
or,
Young America in Russia

By ALLAN ARNOLD.

CHAPTER I.

THE UNSUSPECTING TRAVELER.

The steamship Baltic was on the point of sailing from America to Europe.

The usual scenes were visible on the wharf–the rushing on board of belated freight and baggage–the crush of passengers and their friends on deck, or down in the cabins, where partings were being drunk in wine; the crowd of steerage passengers forward, trying to keep out of the way of the sailors, and at the same time to salute or converse with their friends on the dock; the rattle and bustle all around; the blow of steam from the impatient boilers; the sharp, brisk orders of the junior officers; the rush of carriages with passengers, and the shouting of draymen anxious to get their loads aboard–all these sights and sounds were both felt and visible as a bright-looking young man, distinctly American to all appearances, alighted from a cab and walked up the steamer's gang-plank, followed by a porter and the driver with trunks and parcels.

He was indeed a bright-looking youth, such as you will find in New York oftener than anywhere else, and as he reached the deck his hand was grasped by several young and enthusiastic friends who had come aboard to see him off.

This was William Barnwell, a young New Yorker, slightly over twenty-one years of age, who had recently inherited quite a fortune from a deceased relative, and he was now on the point of starting on a tour which he intended should encompass the globe.

He was now alone in the world, so far as relations were concerned, although he had a large circle of friends to whom he was greatly attached, as they were to him.

From boyhood up he had always been an enthusiast in almost everything, but more especially in politics and revolution, as shown in national struggles, and the pride of his life was the history of the American Revolution, and the success of the patriots in that cause.

But outside of his being an enthusiast and a lover of liberty, he was not known, and had never taken any prominent part in any of the social or political movements of the day, beyond sympathizing with the struggles of the working men and women of the world in their struggles to better themselves.

These facts were not only known to his friends, but to many men belonging to the secret societies of Ireland, Germany, and Russia. That is to say, they knew him only as a bright young fellow, possessing brains and pluck, together with enthusiasm, which, if rightly directed, would make him a valuable member of any secret organization having the liberty of the people at heart. But beyond this nothing particular was known of him.

His friends gathered around and wished him a prosperous voyage and a happy return, and with refreshments and flowers they expressed themselves as only New Yorkers do on such occasions.

And as he stood there on deck, surrounded by his friends, he looked indeed like a representative American young gentleman.

He was light-complexioned, nearly six feet in height, and proportioned like an athlete; bright, smart, and intelligent.

And while the excitement of "sailing-day" was at its height, and young Barnwell was in the midst of his friends, a strange man approached and tapped him on the shoulder.

The young man turned to see who it was, but he did not know him.

"Can I speak a word with you?" the stranger asked, with a strong foreign accent.

"Certainly. Excuse me a moment, my friends. I will join you presently," said Barnwell, walking away with the stranger, a little way forward of the main hatch, out of the crowd.

"You are William Barnwell, I believe?" said the stranger.

"Yes, that is my name," said Will.

"I was sure of it. You are going abroad for pleasure, I understand?"

"Yes."

"You are an American?"

"I am proud to acknowledge it," said Will, drawing himself up to his full height.

"And let me tell you, young man, I know you thoroughly–know you for a thorough-bred American gentleman."

"Thank you."

"You would do almost anything in the cause of human liberty?"

"I would."

"I wish I had known you before."

"Why?"

"I might have bound you closer."

"To what?"

"The heart of human liberty."

"What do you mean?"

"I cannot tell you now. But when will you go to St. Petersburg, Russia?"

"Well, I did intend to go there at once, and from there visit the different capitals."

"And will you go to St. Petersburg?"

"Certainly."

"And will you do me a favor–will you do it in the cause of human liberty?" asked the stranger, catching hold of his hand.

"I will."

The stranger appeared like a Russian or a Polish Jew, but there was something about him that seemed to interest Barnwell.

"Can I trust you beyond a doubt?"

"I think you can in ordinary matters. Why do you ask?"

"For very good reasons. And when you know that the lives and liberty of hundreds of brave men and women depend upon your trust and faith, will you swear to be true?"

"I will swear, sir," said Barnwell, earnestly, for he was becoming more strongly interested.

The stranger appeared to hesitate as though not daring to trust the entire importance of the business to the young man. But he finally concluded what to do, evidently, and drawing Barnwell still further away from the throng, he took a large brown envelope from the breast-pocket of his coat.

"Everybody in St. Petersburg knows Prince Mastowix, and it will be an easy matter for you to find and approach him, seeing that you have your passport all right. Will you swear to me to place this envelope in his hand, allowing no one else to see or handle it?" asked the stranger, with great earnestness.

"I will swear to do so if you will tell me your name, and assure me that I shall not be breaking any law of my country by so doing."

"Paul Zobriskie is my name," said he, after hesitating an instant, and gazing sharply at the brave youth before him.

"I think I have heard the name before, in connection with socialistic matters," mused Will.

"Very likely; but keep that to yourself, for it will be better for you not to know me in Russia. As to the other, I assure you that you will break no law, social, moral, or political, in giving this to Prince Mastowix."

"Very well. On those conditions I will convey the packet to him," said he, taking it.

"Good; and the prince will be of great service to you during your stay in Russia, and perhaps furnish letters which will assist you in many other capitals."

"Thanks. That is just what I require, as I have no letters of introduction anywhere beyond my passport, and shall be a stranger everywhere," said Barnwell, evidently delighted with such a prospect.

"Good speed to you," said Zobriskie, shaking him cordially by the hand.

"Thank you," and they parted, Barnwell thrusting the envelope into his breast-pocket.

He returned to his waiting friends and apologized for his protracted absence.

"Do you know that man, Billy?" asked one of his friends.

"Well, not particularly. He wanted me to deliver a letter for him, that's all."

"Well, keep an eye on yourself."

"What for?"

"That man is an exiled Nihilist, and there may be danger in what you are doing," said he.

"Oh, I guess not. It is only to deliver a letter to a certain man in St. Petersburg," replied Barnwell, carelessly.

"Well, in these times, anything that is connected in the remotest way with the city of the Czar is suspicious. Have an eye to yourself, Billy," he added again.

"Oh, never fear. I shall at least do that. But come, I have some good cheer waiting for you in my cabin. Friends, follow me," said he, leading the way through the crowd to the cabin stairway.

And there they gathered to receive his cheer, and to wish him all