Books: Brightest in Dungeons

(3 of 4)

One of these tapping scenes is among the finest in any recent writing. Rubashov could not sleep. Though it was late, he tapped to No. 402: ARE YOU ASLEEP? At first there was no answer, then No. 402 tapped: NO. DO YOU FEEL IT TOO? FEEL WHAT? asked Rubashov. Again No. 402 hesitated for a while. "Then he tapped so subduedly that it sounded as if he were speaking in a very low voice: IT'S BETTER FOR YOU TO SLEEP. ... TONIGHT POLITICAL DIFFERENCES ARE BEING SETTLED."

EXECUTIONS? Rubashov lay down and waited. Suddenly No. 402 tapped loudly: NO. 380. PASS IT ON. "Rubashov sat up quickly. He understood: . . . The occupants of the cells between 380 and 402 formed an acoustic relay through darkness and silence. . . . Rubashov jumped from his bunk, pattered over barefooted to the other wall, posted himself next to the bucket, and tapped to No. 406: ATTENTION. NO. 380 IS TO BE SHOT NOW. PASS IT ON." To No. 402 Rubashov tapped: WHO is NO. 380? There was no answer. "Rubashov guessed that, like himself, No. 420 was moving pendulumlike between the two walls of his cell. . . .

"Now No. 402 was back again. . . .: THEY ARE READING THE SENTENCE TO HIM. PASS IT ON." There was no use passing on the message to No. 406, whom the others believed insane, yet Rubashov tapped it through. "He was driven by an obscure . . . feeling that the chain must not be broken. . . . Still not the slightest sound was heard from outside. Only the wall went on ticking: HE IS SHOUTING FOR HELP. HE IS SHOUTING FOR HELP. Rubashov tapped to No. 406. . . .

"WHAT IS HIS NAME?" Rubashov tapped quickly. . . . BOGROV. OPPOSSITIONAL. PASS IT ON. Rubashov's legs suddenly became heavy. He leaned against the wall and tapped through to No. 406: MICHAEL BOGROV. FORMER SAILOR ON BATTLESHIP POTEMKIN, COMMANDER OF THE EASTERN FLEET, BEARER OF THE FIRST REVOLUTIONARY ORDER, LED TO EXECUTION. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, was sick into the buckeT and ended his sentence: PASS IT ON."

In his memory "he saw the outlines of [Bogrov's] gigantic figure. . . . they had been roommates in exile after 1905; Tubashov had taught hime reading, writing and the fundamentals of historical thought; since then, wherever Rubashov might happen to be, he received twice a year a hand-written letter, ending invariably with the words: 'Your comrade, faithful unto the grave, Bogrov.'"

THEY ARE COMING, tapped No. 402 . . . STAND AT THE SPYHOLE. DRUM . . . . Rubashov stood with his eyes pressed tothe spyhole, and joined the chorus by beating with both hands rhythmically against the concrete door. . . . .He gradually lost the sense of time and space, he heard only the hollow beating as of jungle tom-toms; it might have been apes that stood behind the bars of their cages, beating their chests and drumming. . . .