Red Mutiny (34 page)

As the crews retired to sleep after this momentous day, the
Ismail
patrolled the surrounding seas on the distant chance that the squadron might return for a surprise attack. The cloudy night was illuminated only by the sweep of searchlights from the
Potemkin
and the
St. George,
their yellow beams scanning the waters for floating mines. At one point, a shout rang out on the
Potemkin'
s spar deck that a mine had been spotted, but when some sailors took a rowboat to investigate, they discovered only a bale of straw bobbing on the waves. Apart from this incident, the decks remained silent.

In the peaceful night, Kovalenko walked the
Potemkin.
Most of the crew was already asleep. Only the late watch remained awake, speaking among themselves of the day's events and their newfound hopes for the future. Kovalenko was carried away by the thought that their success that day would prompt a revolution throughout the empire. It was a couple of hours after midnight before he relaxed and drifted to sleep in one of the staterooms.

For the first time since the mutiny began, the committee was not to be found debating into the early morning hours. Matyushenko rested, finally giving in to exhaustion. Like the rest of the crew, he looked forward to the next day, when the fight would finally be taken onto land, where it would spread like wildfire. He could not imagine who could oppose them now. Kirill and Feldmann were spending the night on the
St. George,
revolvers at their side, after hearing subversive talk against the mutiny among the crew; but they were equally confident of realizing their plan to launch an insurrection in Odessa the next day.

None of them knew that while they slept peacefully, a band of petty officers was meeting in the
St. George's
galley, plotting to wrest the battleship from the mutineers.

A
T
8
A.M.,
Matyushenko took a launch across the unusually calm harbor waters and struck out alone across the barren port. He had one thousand rubles stashed in his pocket—charity for Gilyarovsky's wife and a ploy to survey the city for the attack. Other sailors could have gone, but Matyushenko rarely delegated dangerous assignments, and he wanted to see the positions of the troops himself. It was June 18, the mutiny's fifth day, and the
Potemkin
now had allies to help force General Kakhanov into submission and carry the revolution to land.

Confidently, he ascended the Richelieu Steps. Bloodstains were still clear on the cobblestones from the slaughter two nights before. A company of soldiers stationed at the top of the steps watched with curiosity as this lone unarmed sailor headed toward them as if he ruled the city. Their officers made the first move, stepping forward to see who he was and why he had come. Matyushenko explained he wanted permission to send some money to his former commander's family as a gesture of goodwill.

Uncertain if this was possible, they sent a soldier to ask General Kakhanov. Taking a seat against the Richelieu statue to await an answer, Matyushenko brusquely asked for a light of his cigarette from the regiment's colonel, a request whose impudence he knew would have normally landed him in jail. Instead, the colonel obliged him. While he waited, Matyushenko observed Primorsky Boulevard and the adjacent streets, noting troop positions and the location of the commander's palace. He also managed to speak to a few soldiers, discreetly inquiring whether they were behind the sailors. The soldiers told him that their regiment and several others would come to their side once the bombardment began.

Several minutes later, a staff general approached and agreed to deliver the money. He looked none too pleased to be speaking to, let alone taking requests from, this ordinary sailor.

"May I have a receipt?" Matyushenko asked. The insult was obvious.

The general bristled at the suggestion that he might take the money himself, but then dashed off a note that he had accepted the rubles and would send them according to the sailor's request. Matyushenko suspected that the two battleships standing in the harbor were enough of a reason for the general to swallow his pride. Then Matyushenko returned to the port and stepped aboard the launch that was waiting for him. On his way to the
Potemkin,
he carefully sketched out what he had seen on Primorsky Boulevard. The sailors would need to know troop positions for the attack on Odessa that night.

By 10
A.M.
, the sun disappeared behind the slate-gray clouds of an approaching storm. In his cabin, Lieutenant Kovalenko was jotting down in a diary the events of the past few days when Dymchenko entered, with a worried look on his face.

"What's happened?" Kovalenko asked.

"Several people just came from the
St. George
," Dymchenko said, perched on the sofa's edge. "The crew's divided. Some insist on sailing to Sevastopol to start talks with Chukhnin. They say the
Potemkin
can do as it pleases."

"This is the work of the petty officers," Kovalenko said.

"Without a doubt."

"We have to go there straight away."

They left Kovalenko's cabin to discover that Matyushenko and Kirill had already prepared a launch to go to the
St. George.
Matyushenko, who chastised himself for not dealing with this problem earlier, wanted the petty officers arrested, but Koshuba believed that if they tried this now, the battleship would surely erupt into further division. Instead, he wanted speakers from the
Potemkin
to convince the crew to stay the course in Odessa. Skeptical, Matyushenko agreed to this line of action.

Along with several sailors, Kirill and Kovalenko volunteered to go. As the launch was prepared to cast off, Dr. Golenko rushed to Matyushenko, who now planned to stay on the
Potemkin,
asking what was happening. Before Matyushenko finished explaining the unrest on the
St. George,
Golenko asked to go to that ship as well, saying he could attend to any sick sailors on the battleship since their doctor had gone ashore. Although Golenko had not previously involved himself much in political actions, he had proved helpful to the mutineers as a doctor, and this kind of gesture would further the solidarity between the two battleships. Matyushenko waved him aboard.

When the launch arrived, boatswain Kuzmenko blocked their path to the
St. George's
quarterdeck, to keep them from further influencing the crew. "Our crew no longer wishes to remain with the
Potemkin
" he said. "They want to leave for Sevastopol."

"Allow us to speak to the crew," Kovalenko said, forcing him aside.

On the quarterdeck, he found the situation much more perilous than he had suspected. The crew argued among one another as to what they should do; some nearly came to blows. Kirill jumped onto a pile of lumber, an impromptu podium from which to address the sailors. His voice, weakened as it was, was easily drowned by shouts of "No more words from the
Potemkin
!" and "We won't listen. Enough. We're going to Sevastopol."

"We'll stay with the
Potemkin
Koshuba yelled, trying to rally the sailors. "We won't leave them alone. Any cowards who want to go to Sevastopol can step ashore and walk."

A cacophony of voices erupted on the quarterdeck. No particular side sounded as if it was winning, and the sailors looked for someone to lead them. They noticed Kovalenko and Golenko. Soon the uproar shifted to a call for the officers to speak.

"Comrades ... comrades ... comrades," Kovalenko yelled, replacing Kirill on the lumber pile and motioning with his hands for the crew to settle down. They calmed down as he spoke. "Yesterday was the most remarkable day since the beginning of the
Potemkin
uprising. Yesterday we gained a powerful ally in the
St. George.
We welcomed your decision to join us, hand in hand, to fight the tsar.... But now, barely a night has passed, and you're wavering. Some among you want to go to Sevastopol, but aside from your surrender, what outcome do you expect from Chukhnin? Did you voluntarily join us yesterday only to betray us the next day? What kind of evil spirit has spread the seeds of doubt in your soul? What confuses you? Is our fight not righteous?"

The crew remained silent as Kovalenko embraced the words of revolution in a way he had never done before. "Comrades, our cause is righteous because we fight against a government that started a pointless, destructive, and shameful war for its own pleasure. We fight a government that answered the humble requests of the St. Petersburg workers with a shower of bullets and a government that leads to the gallows the defenders of the people's rights. So, comrades, power and truth are on our side. Let us be strong, and with our battleships, rush to the help of the people. Long live the rule of the people! Long live freedom and justice!"

For a few moments, the crew was unanimous, calling out, "We won't go to Sevastopol. We won't leave the
Potemkin?
Kovalenko stepped down, eyeing Kuzmenko, who was obviously shocked by hearing these words come from an officer.

Then a
St. George
sailor stood forward, breaking the temporary spell cast by Kovalenko. "If the
Potemkin
doesn't want to join us, we can find our own way to Sevastopol. If they want, they can follow."

Kirill shouted, "Why go to Sevastopol?"

"We'll anchor out at sea and start negotiations with Chukhnin!"

"Are you going to negotiate how to bring Golikov and Gilyarovsky back from the sea?" a
Potemkin
sailor retorted.

"No," Kirill answered for them. "They're going to ask forgiveness and crawl before Chukhnin in surrender."

The
St. George
sailor retreated into the clusters of men. Still there was no consensus. Surprisingly, Golenko then clambered onto the pile of lumber. Kovalenko urged the doctor to come down, fearful of what he would say.

"I'm the son of a peasant," Golenko began, undeterred by Kovalenko. "I care about what happens to every one of you. But if you go to Sevastopol, what will you demand? That the borscht be cooked better or that you be allowed ashore more often?"

The crew had no response.

"Comrades, there's too much injustice in Russia. I joined you to demand that everyone be equal. You can see for yourselves the kind of injustice that exists. We must eradicate it."

The doctor's short but pointed speech brought numerous nods of agreement from the crew. After he stepped down, a petty officer renewed the call to surrender the battleship, but the enthusiasm for this course of action had waned, now that the crew questioned what was to be gained by pleading with Vice Admiral Chukhnin. Koshuba then promised the sailors they would take no further action until they convened again with the
Potemkin.
This placated them further.

Golenko slipped off to speak with boatswain Kuzmenko and several petty officers. "I can't stay on the
Potemkin
anymore," he told Kuzmenko. "They'll shoot me, one way or another." Knowing that Ensign Alekseyev's passive resistance had proved useless and that the
Potemkin
would soon shell Odessa, Golenko had resolved to launch a counter-mutiny. His speech to the crew had won their trust, which he would need later, in order to act against them. Kuzmenko and the petty officers accepted the doctor's offer of help, and they plotted how to take back the battleship.

With the dissent on the
St. George
settled, at least temporarily, all those from the
Potemkin
returned to the launch. Nobody had noticed Golenko's brief absence. As they climbed down the ladder into the boat, Kuzmenko leaned over the railing and said, "Our committee shouldn't go to the
Potemkin
again. There's nothing for them to do there. By noon, we will weigh anchor."

"Watch yourself," Kirill said, pointing to the anchor chain, "or you'll find yourself at the bottom of the sea along with that anchor."

The launch cast off. Koshuba and several other
St. George
leaders followed in another boat to the
Potemkin,
to report on the heightened dissent among the crew. Matyushenko listened impatiently. They had come too far to be delayed by a few petty officers on the
St. George
who were more loyal to the tsar than to the ranks of sailors from which they themselves had risen. The joint committee agreed to send another group to the battleship, this time with an armed guard. They would arrest the traitors and bring them to the
Potemkin.
No more half measures.

It was clear that the
St. George's
crew also needed some inspiration, but the problem was whom to send. Days of speaking on behalf of the revolution, often over the clamor of engines or in smoke-filled rooms, had ravaged Matyushenko's voice. Kirill and Feldmann, both compelling speakers, were hoarse as well, incapable of shouting down a boisterous crew. Furthermore, several other good agitators had gone to meet with Kakhanov and obtain provisions and coal. This left Koshuba and his fellow
St. George
revolutionaries to rally their own crew.

Then, for the second time that day, Dr. Golenko volunteered, this time to lead the armed guard and speak to the sailors again. The committee hastily deliberated. Those favoring him, the majority, said the doctor had chosen to stay aboard when he could have left with the other officers; he had presented himself well earlier on the
St. George;
and the sailors would respect his authority as an officer. Only Kovalenko, who could not go again because he needed to prepare the battieship for the potential bombardment of the city, voiced serious concerns. He argued that the doctor was the one who had first approved the rotten meat bought in Odessa and that he had abandoned the
Potemkin
for the
Vekha
during their first confrontation with the squadron. Could he be trusted now? But Kovalenko's concerns did not sway the ship's leaders. They had little choice but to send Golenko now; he would be accompanied by two
Potemkin
committee members who would guarantee that he would do as told. The doctor would go, it was decided.