Fiction; Short stories, Russian -- Translations into English
In a moment they were on the deck, where three dark-bearded figures,
eagerly chattering together, in a strange staccato tongue looked
over the side into Chelkash's boat. The fourth clad in a long gown,
went up to him and pressed his hand without speaking, then looked
suspiciously round at Gavrilo.
"Get the money ready for me by the morning," Chelkash said to
him shortly. "And now I'll go to sleep. Gavrilo, come along!
Are you hungry?"
"I'm sleepy," answered Gavrilo, and five minutes later he was
snoring in the dirty hold of the vessel, while Chelkash,
sitting beside him, tried on somebody's boots. Dreamily spitting
on one side, he whistled angrily and mournfully between his teeth.
Then he stretched himself out beside Gavrilo, and pulling
the boots off his feet again and putting his arms under his head,
he fell to gazing intently at the deck, and pulling his mustaches.
The vessel rocked softly on the frolicking water, there was
a fretful creaking of wood somewhere, the rain pattered softly
on the deck, and the waves splashed on the ship's side.
Everything was melancholy and sounded like the lullaby
of a mother, who has no hope of her child's happiness.
And Chelkash fell asleep.
CHAPTER III
He was the first to wake, he looked round him uneasily, but at once
regained his self-possession and stared at Gavrilo who was still asleep.
He was sweetly snoring, and in his sleep smiled all over his childish,
sun-burned healthy face. Chelkash sighed and climbed up the narrow
rope-ladder. Through the port-hole he saw a leaden strip of sky.
It was daylight, but a dreary autumn grayness.
Chelkash came back two hours later. His face was red, his mustaches
were jauntily curled, a smile of good-humored gayety beamed on his lips.
He was wearing a pair of stout high boots, a short jacket,
and leather breeches, and he looked like a sportsman.
His whole costume was worn, but strong and very becoming to him,
making him look broader, covering up his angularity, and giving
him a military air.
"Hi, little calf, get up!" He gave Gavrilo a kick.
Gavrilo started up, and, not recognizing him, stared at him in alarm
with dull eyes. Chelkash chuckled.
"Well, you do look--" Gavrilo brought out with a broad grin at last.
"You're quite a gentleman!"
"We soon change. But, I say, you're easily scared! aye!
How many times were you ready to die last night? eh? tell me!"
"Well, but just think, it's the first time I've ever been on such a job!
Why one may lose one's soul for all one's life!"
"Well, would you go again? Eh?"
"Again? Well--that--how can I say? For what inducement?
That's the point!"
"Well, if it were for two rainbows?"
"Two hundred roubles, you mean? Well--I might."
"But I say! What about your soul?"
"Oh, well--maybe one wouldn't lose it!" Gavrilo smiled.
"One mightn't--and it would make a man of one for all one's life."
Chelkash laughed good-humoredly.
"All right! that's enough joking. Let's row to land. Get ready!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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