Easter had only just passed and the first springtime rivulets were appearing as I hastened my departure. During that time, I felt exactly like a bird in flight, and with the free ocean tugging at me, I could not calmly remain in Rykovsk behind the wall of the Pilinga Mountains.

“I’m leaving aboard the first passenger steamer!” I said prior to departure during my goodbyes to Tymovsk exile-settlers.

But when the first loaded steamer arrived, it brought sensational news: Vladivostok was on military alert and the entire region was preparing for war!

“They probably won't let you go to Vladivostok,” administrators skeptically told me. “You’ll need to alter your route and first go to Nikolaevsk, then down the Amur. But then, for all that, you’ll be mobilized for enlistment…”

Upon this information, all personal calculations shifted to the second plan. Rumors were emerging among penal laborers and officials: What would happen on Sakhalin in the event of military action?

“It won't be touched. As an island of penal laborers, it will remain neutral,” one official remarked.

“No,” others vociferated. “Sakhalin, as a criminal depot, will be a dainty morsel for their fleet. As soon as all the foreigners land on the island and include all the penal laborers in their plans, it will fall into their hands! The local commands don't have the strength to put up a resistance.”

Penal laborers, too, did not refrain from bold predictions. Some were intrigued by the idea of being included in a plan. Most dreamed of joining the military's ranks and then earning a full pardon.

There lived in Rykovsk an exile I much loved, Pëtr Osipov, also known as Arsenii Kobchik. He was a good warrior from the days of Nicholas I. He had been in that strict school of a model regiment, wherein, in his expression, nine men get knocked about and the tenth is turned into a soldier; he then completed three difficult tours, in Hungary, beyond the Danube, and near Sevastopol (he was at the battle of Black River).