Incomprehensible words of command are heard. The steamer starts, the devils give a creak.... “A-va-va!” shouts the captain; at the bows a bell is rung, on the black deck there are sounds of running, knocking, cries of anxiety.... The _Dir_ starts once more, puffs painfully, and apparently tries to move backwards. “What is it?” I ask, and feel something like a faint terror. There is no answer. “He’d like a collision, the devil’s doll!” I hear the captain’s harsh shout. “To the left!” Red lights appear in front, and suddenly among the uproar is heard the whistling, not of the _Dir_, but of some other steamer.... Now I understand it: there is going to be a collision! The _Dir_ puffs, trembles, and does not move, as though waiting for a signal to go down.... But just when I think all is lost, the red lights appear on the left of us, and the dark silhouette of a steamer can be discerned.... A long black body sails past us, guiltily blinks its red eyes, and gives a guilty whistle.... “Oof! What steamer is it?” I ask the captain. The captain looks at the silhouette through his glasses and replies: “It is the _Tweedie_.” After a pause we begin to talk of the _Vesta_, which collided with two steamers and went down. Under the influence of this conversation the sea, the night and the wind begin to seem hideous, created on purpose for man’s undoing, and I feel sorry as I look at the fat little captain.... Something whispers to me that this poor man, too, will sooner or later sink to the bottom and be choked with salt water. [Footnote: Chekhov’s presentiment about the captain was partly fulfilled: that very autumn the _Dir_ was wrecked on the shores of Alupka.] I go back to my cabin.... It is stuffy, and there is a smell of cooking. My travelling companion, Suvorin-_fils_, is asleep already.... I take off all my clothes and go to bed.... The darkness sways to and fro, the bed seems to breathe.... Boom-boom-boom! Bathed in perspiration, breathless, and feeling an oppression all over with the rocking, I ask myself, “What am I here for?” I wake up. It is no longer dark. Wet all over, with a nasty taste in my mouth, I dress and go out. Everything is covered with dew.... The wild goats look with human eyes through the grating of their cage and seem to be asking “Why are we here?” The captain stands still as before and looks intently into the distance.... A mountainous shore stretches on the left.... Elborus is seen from behind the mountains. A blurred sun rises in the sky.... One can see the green valley of Rion and the Bay of Poti by the side of it. TO N. A. LEIKIN. SUMY, August 12.