And it seemed that but a little while and the solution would be found and there would begin a lovely new life; and to both of them it was clear that the end was still very far off, and that their hardest and most difficult period was only just beginning. GOUSSIEV It was already dark and would soon be night. Goussiev, a private on long leave, raised himself a little in his hammock and said in a whisper: "Can you hear me, Pavel Ivanich? A soldier at Souchan told me that their boat ran into an enormous fish and knocked a hole in her bottom." The man of condition unknown whom he addressed, and whom everybody in the hospital-ship called Pavel Ivanich, was silent, as if he had not heard. And once more there was silence.... The wind whistled through the rigging, the screw buzzed, the waves came washing, the hammocks squeaked, but to all these sounds their ears were long since accustomed and it seemed as though everything were wrapped in sleep and silence. It was very oppressive. The three patients--two soldiers and a sailor--who had played cards all day were now asleep and tossing to and fro. The vessel began to shake. The hammock under Goussiev slowly heaved up and down, as though it were breathing--one, two, three.... Something crashed on the floor and began to tinkle: the jug must have fallen down. "The wind has broken loose...." said Goussiev, listening attentively. This time Pavel Ivanich coughed and answered irritably: "You spoke just now of a ship colliding with a large fish, and now you talk of the wind breaking loose.... Is the wind a dog to break loose?" "That's what people say." "Then people are as ignorant as you.... But what do they not say? You should keep a head on your shoulders and think. Silly idiot!" Pavel Ivanich was subject to seasickness. When the ship rolled he would get very cross, and the least trifle would upset him, though Goussiev could never see anything to be cross about. What was there unusual in his story about the fish or in his saying that the wind had broken loose? Suppose the fish were as big as a mountain and its back were as hard as a sturgeon's, and suppose that at the end of the wood there were huge stone walls with the snarling winds chained up to them.... If they do not break loose, why then do they rage over the sea as though they were possessed, and rush about like dogs? If they are not chained, what happens to them when it is calm?